Their therapist is going to have a field day with this.
It's a thought that comes out of nowhere, but it's true. Their therapist, and Danny's own therapist, and Chin and Kono and Lou, and everyone who ever made a joke or assumption about him and Steve being together. Like it was obvious already.
And not one of those people had ever seen this, because this didn't exist, couldn't, would never. Steve staring at him like a predator. When Steve has seen him shirtless before, and touched Danny's bare skin, and this is nothing new, except in how it is everything new. Steve drinking him in like he's never seen Danny's skin before, until he gets pulled back in and pushes his way back in, and his hands are everywhere, drawing up groans from deep in Danny's chest, when he rubs a thumb over sensitive skin, spans his hands over Danny's ribs, and Danny's trying to push into them, into Steve, even when its impossible. When his two hands aren't enough and couldn't ever be enough, and Steve's hands are huge, but they aren't big enough, ether, because Danny wants him across all his skin, at once. He wants to be wrecked in it. Drowned in it. Every single touch that was never supposed to happen, when no one has ever touched him quite like this.
Like he's a liferaft, and a ship to be wrecked, all at the same time. Like Steve can't get enough, either. Like he's getting as drunk on Danny as Danny is on him, and that's never been true. Amber and Gabby were fun and sweet and fragile and they could fit right in the circle of Danny's arms, but they never stormed him like a beach to take.
Maybe no one would, except Steve.
Who is talking about stopping, without any indication that he would, or could. Doesn't pull back. Doesn't pause. Making fun of him with words that sound like they've been branded on the inside of Steve's chest, and are still smoking.
Clearly lying, but not enough for Danny not to say: "Do not stop."
He doesn't care about the front door, as long as it doesn't open behind him, and send them sprawling. He will care about the therapists, and the team, and other people (Grace, what will Grace think?), but not yet. They don't exist. Not in this space, that's rapidly shrinking, and still isn't close enough.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-10-27 12:49 pm (UTC)Their therapist is going to have a field day with this.
It's a thought that comes out of nowhere, but it's true. Their therapist, and Danny's own therapist, and Chin and Kono and Lou, and everyone who ever made a joke or assumption about him and Steve being together. Like it was obvious already.
And not one of those people had ever seen this, because this didn't exist, couldn't, would never. Steve staring at him like a predator. When Steve has seen him shirtless before, and touched Danny's bare skin, and this is nothing new, except in how it is everything new. Steve drinking him in like he's never seen Danny's skin before, until he gets pulled back in and pushes his way back in, and his hands are everywhere, drawing up groans from deep in Danny's chest, when he rubs a thumb over sensitive skin, spans his hands over Danny's ribs, and Danny's trying to push into them, into Steve, even when its impossible. When his two hands aren't enough and couldn't ever be enough, and Steve's hands are huge, but they aren't big enough, ether, because Danny wants him across all his skin, at once. He wants to be wrecked in it. Drowned in it. Every single touch that was never supposed to happen, when no one has ever touched him quite like this.
Like he's a liferaft, and a ship to be wrecked, all at the same time. Like Steve can't get enough, either. Like he's getting as drunk on Danny as Danny is on him, and that's never been true. Amber and Gabby were fun and sweet and fragile and they could fit right in the circle of Danny's arms, but they never stormed him like a beach to take.
Maybe no one would, except Steve.
Who is talking about stopping, without any indication that he would, or could. Doesn't pull back. Doesn't pause. Making fun of him with words that sound like they've been branded on the inside of Steve's chest, and are still smoking.
Clearly lying, but not enough for Danny not to say: "Do not stop."
He doesn't care about the front door, as long as it doesn't open behind him, and send them sprawling. He will care about the therapists, and the team, and other people (Grace, what will Grace think?), but not yet. They don't exist. Not in this space, that's rapidly shrinking, and still isn't close enough.