The sudden pause where Danny's voice cuts off mid-sentence, that way Danny's voice never does, without the appearance of Grace or a shooter, makes Steve's muscles tighten without any request or warning. When Danny is looking at him. For the life of him, Steve having no clue what this face actually is. Danny staring at him. Maybe faintly in pain? Definitely in shock? Staring. Just staring.
The tension pulling Steve's ribs in over his lungs, a cage that never managed to contained anything before.
Before Danny suddenly there is sound and movement all at once, so much so it's like the seconds before a firecracker and then the explosion of the firecracker right after. It's almost disorienting. Suddenly, the sentence picks up like Danny never held that, and lost the words, at the same time while he runs into Steve, pushing Steve's arm out of the way and then his hands are back again.
Sliding suddenly. Warm, solid, heavy hands. Down his waist, his thighs, around back. Fast like maybe Danny feels it, too. This stupid feeling. That even though they've admitted this has been sitting, silent, under everything for a while, it feels like it's got the shortest sprint timer attached to it. A zero-hour clock that going to strike and this will all vanish back into perfect folded suits, and they'll wake up in their bed and --
A sound rockets its way out of Steve's chest, slashing hot against Danny kissing him, acid still burning as white light pummeling his inside and lacing itself with actual explosives, body shuddering for real this time as his hips jerked him forward in Danny's hand and his stomach. Steve's head dizzy with the thought about Danny's hands, Danny's hand's get everywhere, what was he expecting, but he can't even laugh yet.
Steve doesn't even know when his one hand found the round of Danny's shoulder and ended up squeezing this hard. Focus isn't a thought, burning, his voice thicker and hoarser, even as he refused to give. "So much for the door."
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The sudden pause where Danny's voice cuts off mid-sentence, that way Danny's voice never does, without the appearance of Grace or a shooter, makes Steve's muscles tighten without any request or warning. When Danny is looking at him. For the life of him, Steve having no clue what this face actually is. Danny staring at him. Maybe faintly in pain? Definitely in shock? Staring. Just staring.
The tension pulling Steve's ribs in over his lungs, a cage that never managed to contained anything before.
Before Danny suddenly there is sound and movement all at once, so much so it's like the seconds before a firecracker and then the explosion of the firecracker right after. It's almost disorienting. Suddenly, the sentence picks up like Danny never held that, and lost the words, at the same time while he runs into Steve, pushing Steve's arm out of the way and then his hands are back again.
Sliding suddenly. Warm, solid, heavy hands. Down his waist, his thighs, around back. Fast like maybe Danny feels it, too. This stupid feeling. That even though they've admitted this has been sitting, silent, under everything for a while, it feels like it's got the shortest sprint timer attached to it. A zero-hour clock that going to strike and this will all vanish back into perfect folded suits, and they'll wake up in their bed and --
A sound rockets its way out of Steve's chest, slashing hot against Danny kissing him, acid still burning as white light pummeling his inside and lacing itself with actual explosives, body shuddering for real this time as his hips jerked him forward in Danny's hand and his stomach. Steve's head dizzy with the thought about Danny's hands, Danny's hand's get everywhere, what was he expecting, but he can't even laugh yet.
Steve doesn't even know when his one hand found the round of Danny's shoulder and ended up squeezing this hard.
Focus isn't a thought, burning, his voice thicker and hoarser, even as he refused to give. "So much for the door."