It's a blistering kind of relief, a different kind of blasting through brimstone and accelerant, as the itch in his skin explodes into heat. A reddish flash covering his vision more than anything like pain that needed focus or recognition or attention, as the man flattens in shock only long enough to lose his breath, before he's struggling under Steve's girth. A rat trying to escape a ship wreck, a body shuddering under the collapsed shower of bricks.
Steve's jaw is tight, but it's almost a smile.
A vicious glee and flash of expected annoyance.
Because he has to pull back. Only enough to get to his knees, weight still hard as battering ram on the man's back and waist. Before Steve moved whip crack fast, getting a knee on his spine and hearing the oof of breath that fled him again. Body caving forward, while Steve grabbed one arm, jerking it backwards and forcing the opposite shoulder into the ground, through a stream of winded, gasping threat even while the first cuff latched tight. "Pigs. Dirty pigs. Even you. I saw you, both of you. Enjoying your--"
"Hands behind your back," Steve said sharply. Hands harder than necessary as some part of him responded with ice sharpness at the truth in those words. Steve's mind flashing only too unhelpfully to the hand under his jacket. Fingers fisted in his hair. The noises. The taste on his tongue.
Fake. Fake, except where he hadn't been entirely. Tried to be, but couldn't.
Because Danny never lets him keep his lies. Not even in this. Even if he can never know. How true it was.
He hadenjoyed it. Blistered. Burned. Wanted.
The second clicked under his fingers. Absolutely still digits that wanted to dig into this man .Violent for the trespass. To crack his jaw. Bash his teeth. Make sure he could never speak a single word. Never make anyone hear it, and need him to lie about one of the things he learned most to bury down and make a lie, except in the darkest night or deepest bottle. There's a hard glance toward Danny, because this was his part. Always his part. When Steve is snapping upward, fast as a shot, deadly fast, followed by a stillness of shoulders that said nothing about ease, while dragging the staggering man to his feet.
Pushing him, without mercy toward his partner. "Book'em, Danno."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-10-19 11:29 pm (UTC)It's a blistering kind of relief, a different kind of blasting through brimstone and accelerant, as the itch in his skin explodes into heat. A reddish flash covering his vision more than anything like pain that needed focus or recognition or attention, as the man flattens in shock only long enough to lose his breath, before he's struggling under Steve's girth. A rat trying to escape a ship wreck, a body shuddering under the collapsed shower of bricks.
Steve's jaw is tight, but it's almost a smile.
A vicious glee and flash of expected annoyance.
Because he has to pull back. Only enough to get to his knees, weight still hard as battering ram on the man's back and waist. Before Steve moved whip crack fast, getting a knee on his spine and hearing the oof of breath that fled him again. Body caving forward, while Steve grabbed one arm, jerking it backwards and forcing the opposite shoulder into the ground, through a stream of winded, gasping threat even while the first cuff latched tight. "Pigs. Dirty pigs. Even you. I saw you, both of you. Enjoying your--"
"Hands behind your back," Steve said sharply. Hands harder than necessary as some part of him responded with ice sharpness at the truth in those words. Steve's mind flashing only too unhelpfully to the hand under his jacket. Fingers fisted in his hair. The noises. The taste on his tongue.
Fake. Fake, except where he hadn't been entirely. Tried to be, but couldn't.
Because Danny never lets him keep his lies. Not even in this.
Even if he can never know. How true it was.
He had enjoyed it.
Blistered. Burned. Wanted.
The second clicked under his fingers. Absolutely still digits that wanted to dig into this man .Violent for the trespass. To crack his jaw. Bash his teeth. Make sure he could never speak a single word. Never make anyone hear it, and need him to lie about one of the things he learned most to bury down and make a lie, except in the darkest night or deepest bottle. There's a hard glance toward Danny, because this was his part. Always his part. When Steve is snapping upward, fast as a shot, deadly fast, followed by a stillness of shoulders that said nothing about ease, while dragging the staggering man to his feet.
Pushing him, without mercy toward his partner. "Book'em, Danno."