Have you seen yourself? Steve asks, into Danny's mouth, with a tone that's almost vengeful, and it doesn't make sense. None of this does, is only believable in the very slightest of degrees if it's actually just another dream, that Danny will wake up from feeling guilty and turned on in equal measure, but that is an especially impossible thing for Steve to say.
Sure. Danny's seen himself. He knows how he looks, knows he keeps himself in decent shape, is overly-protective of his hair and the few pieces of nice clothing -- more, now, ever since he started making a better salary -- and tonight, he made an extra effort, to look the part. Wore his best suit, the one that looks most like it belongs on this island, crisp and light. His best shirt. And he still didn't look anything like Steve, or half the other men in that joint. And there are people who look like Steve, who wear a tux like Steve does, but they're in movies and on magazine covers. They stop traffic, and pick up phone numbers like dropped pennies.
They don't get stuck on Danny. It's absurd. The very idea of it. That he could have been driving Steve as insane in that room, as he felt. Like his skin was about to boil right off. Wanting to snap each one of that guy's fingers, where they lay on the small of Steve's back, one by one, slow and satisfying.
Looking down, to follow the line of Steve's fingers, as they drag down his chest, to the buttons of this vest, that Steve already undid once tonight, without knowing it was like he was unbuttoning Danny's sanity, one at a time. "What's wrong with this suit?"
There's nothing to hate about this suit. He loves this suit, paid more for it than for any other single item of clothing he's ever owned, and it was worth every penny. Tailored precisely. A little different. Classic lines, that Steve is painting with heavy pressure, and clouding up Danny's head, catching Danny's breath as his fingers pause at the buttons, only to reach up and drag him in by the collar of his shirt, while Danny's hands shift down, to Steve's hips, partly to keep him close, and partly to keep his balance, and partly because he's still not at all sure this is even happening.
Steve saying never. But not meaning the never Danny still thinks, believes, knows it true, because he can't start being sure that down is up just because he feels like he's tumbling into the sky. This was never going to happen. Steve was never going to understand it or want it. The very best case scenario was always that Steve, finding out, wouldn't hold it against him, because sometimes things happen and peoples' feelings get complicated.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-10-24 05:55 pm (UTC)Have you seen yourself? Steve asks, into Danny's mouth, with a tone that's almost vengeful, and it doesn't make sense. None of this does, is only believable in the very slightest of degrees if it's actually just another dream, that Danny will wake up from feeling guilty and turned on in equal measure, but that is an especially impossible thing for Steve to say.
Sure. Danny's seen himself. He knows how he looks, knows he keeps himself in decent shape, is overly-protective of his hair and the few pieces of nice clothing -- more, now, ever since he started making a better salary -- and tonight, he made an extra effort, to look the part. Wore his best suit, the one that looks most like it belongs on this island, crisp and light. His best shirt. And he still didn't look anything like Steve, or half the other men in that joint. And there are people who look like Steve, who wear a tux like Steve does, but they're in movies and on magazine covers. They stop traffic, and pick up phone numbers like dropped pennies.
They don't get stuck on Danny. It's absurd. The very idea of it. That he could have been driving Steve as insane in that room, as he felt. Like his skin was about to boil right off. Wanting to snap each one of that guy's fingers, where they lay on the small of Steve's back, one by one, slow and satisfying.
Looking down, to follow the line of Steve's fingers, as they drag down his chest, to the buttons of this vest, that Steve already undid once tonight, without knowing it was like he was unbuttoning Danny's sanity, one at a time. "What's wrong with this suit?"
There's nothing to hate about this suit. He loves this suit, paid more for it than for any other single item of clothing he's ever owned, and it was worth every penny. Tailored precisely. A little different. Classic lines, that Steve is painting with heavy pressure, and clouding up Danny's head, catching Danny's breath as his fingers pause at the buttons, only to reach up and drag him in by the collar of his shirt, while Danny's hands shift down, to Steve's hips, partly to keep him close, and partly to keep his balance, and partly because he's still not at all sure this is even happening.
Steve saying never. But not meaning the never Danny still thinks, believes, knows it true, because he can't start being sure that down is up just because he feels like he's tumbling into the sky. This was never going to happen. Steve was never going to understand it or want it. The very best case scenario was always that Steve, finding out, wouldn't hold it against him, because sometimes things happen and peoples' feelings get complicated.
It was never, never, this.