The face happens, again. The one Steve isn't sure of. Where Danny almost looks pained, out of breath, blown away by the words that fell out of Steve's mouth and Steve has to pretend. His guts don't twinge. He's not watching Danny for his own signs. That he's about to run. That it was too much. That he's a damn asshole and he never should have opened his mouth and shoved that at Danny, wanting to burn him down, trip him up, make it impossible to think, make him understand.
That it's too much, and he's known that for years. He always has been. Too much. A sinkhole circling Danny. But not like this.
He forgets on Danny's lips, without forgetting. Like he can fight and run, as far as he needs, as long as he has to, ignoring whatever might be wrong with him, but he never forgets. Not entirely. It's not allowed. They aren't allowed to have weaknesses that they don't look in the eye, even if they carry them on their back, in the rest of their pack, without looking toward it. The way it hovers even when he's kissing Danny.
Wanting to forget. Wanting Danny to forget it. Wanting Danny to never ever forget it.
Even when his body gives a shudder, everything rushing in to fill the vacuum, as a sound comes out of his mouth, unbidden and unstoppable, a needy smothered whimper caught in teeth and lips, drug up from the bottom of his spine, when Danny's fingers suddenly come off of him. Finding some other part of him. Every dazed, slipped sideways, his weight foreign for a second. The burn of absence entirely upsetting the balance he'd haphazardly worked out with the onslaught. Scalding at his skin in its absence, all of his skin crawling with want, even as Danny's hand caught his side.
Fingers curling his side, while Danny yells through the din in his skin, and then is smacking his arm, making Steve frown and then wither a look at him, though it never does get anywhere near his eyes. "You can't walk on any other normal day. What makes you think I'd believe you could manage any better now?" There's no hesitation in Steve's still pulling him that way, and Steve's smirk dragging itself out warm and sharp. "I can carry you, if you're going to keep holding up the rear."
It's insane. They are insane. Certifiable. While Danny is flushed and yelling, and Steve wants all of it back on him already.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-10-31 04:10 pm (UTC)The face happens, again. The one Steve isn't sure of. Where Danny almost looks pained, out of breath, blown away by the words that fell out of Steve's mouth and Steve has to pretend. His guts don't twinge. He's not watching Danny for his own signs. That he's about to run. That it was too much. That he's a damn asshole and he never should have opened his mouth and shoved that at Danny, wanting to burn him down, trip him up, make it impossible to think, make him understand.
That it's too much, and he's known that for years. He always has been. Too much. A sinkhole circling Danny. But not like this.
He forgets on Danny's lips, without forgetting. Like he can fight and run, as far as he needs, as long as he has to, ignoring whatever might be wrong with him, but he never forgets. Not entirely. It's not allowed. They aren't allowed to have weaknesses that they don't look in the eye, even if they carry them on their back, in the rest of their pack, without looking toward it. The way it hovers even when he's kissing Danny.
Wanting to forget. Wanting Danny to forget it. Wanting Danny to never ever forget it.
Even when his body gives a shudder, everything rushing in to fill the vacuum, as a sound comes out of his mouth, unbidden and unstoppable, a needy smothered whimper caught in teeth and lips, drug up from the bottom of his spine, when Danny's fingers suddenly come off of him. Finding some other part of him. Every dazed, slipped sideways, his weight foreign for a second. The burn of absence entirely upsetting the balance he'd haphazardly worked out with the onslaught. Scalding at his skin in its absence, all of his skin crawling with want, even as Danny's hand caught his side.
Fingers curling his side, while Danny yells through the din in his skin, and then is smacking his arm, making Steve frown and then wither a look at him, though it never does get anywhere near his eyes. "You can't walk on any other normal day. What makes you think I'd believe you could manage any better now?" There's no hesitation in Steve's still pulling him that way, and Steve's smirk dragging itself out warm and sharp. "I can carry you, if you're going to keep holding up the rear."
It's insane. They are insane. Certifiable. While Danny is flushed and yelling, and Steve wants all of it back on him already.