It's going to his head as more air gets in, from being able to breathe, while he's laughing on the stairs, but Danny doesn't have his hand splintering Steve's body or his mouth making it impossible to breathe in. The insanity is spreading, because it's nothing but amusing. The stumbling of feet, and the sliding of shoes. Attempting to, and then finding stairs, sometimes while smacking into the rise before the stair first, while Danny follows but get noisy, annoyed, like he isn't.
Making Steve's smile even more smug and sunk in, mouth curved in a press that feels impossible to fight against. Even while Danny is throwing those words at him. Feet landing solidly on the mid rise. Half-way. The thought relieving and exhilarating. Insane. Halfway up and he can stop thinking about it at all. Halfway up the stairs to his room. His bed. Where Danny isn't fighting him on being drug to.
Which he can't think about how can be true. Both at all, and because Danny is saying that suddenly.
Danny is talking about him, naked. Him and his dick, and actually using the word dick, not swearing at some low life he wants to punch for being the worst kind of scum doing something to children, and it slams into Steve like he downed half a bottle of scotch on a dare. Both Danny talking about it, and Danny saying it. Danny, who never. It's not like he's got an entirely clean mouth. But never. He'd never pictured this as part of it either.
It feels like glass is shattering in his head, chain links snapping, when he laughs, against Danny's unspoken threat, even while Danny lunges. Absolutely the reverse of it. Steve's shoulders slamming the wall, and his head hitting a photo, unable to even parse the pain because Danny is suddenly against him, hand dragging him down that he moves to fluidly. Even if only to tense everywhere and shiver at the sensation when Danny is suddenly attached to his throat like a leech.
Talking to every part of his body with it. Every part of his air. Warm and wet. One of Steve's hands finding the back of Danny's head, even as he was shifting down the wall to make it easier, get him closer, and leaning his head away to give Danny more room. Would give Danny anything if he didn't stop. They didn't. None of this did. Even if he really must be insane, because it's popping back inside his head even as he does that. As Danny's mouth pulling on his skin, ratching his pulse even higher, into something that makes Steve's eyes almost roll to a close but doesn't stop him.
"What?" He says, voice caught and tone tense for focusing, when his other hand finally moves. Rolling with the red, the best way he knows how to. Absolutely. From the bottom to the hilt entirely.
Dropping him further into the boiling oil, when his hand slides deftly straight down to the front of Danny's pants and cup around the -- insane, impossible, but actually presently happening, has been, hasn't stopped being -- bulge there, inside the far too, and hate-able for even more reasons now, nice grey pants. His thumb rubbing up and down fabric heavy along it. "Like this? Is this what you're saying is holding us up?"
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It's going to his head as more air gets in, from being able to breathe, while he's laughing on the stairs, but Danny doesn't have his hand splintering Steve's body or his mouth making it impossible to breathe in. The insanity is spreading, because it's nothing but amusing. The stumbling of feet, and the sliding of shoes. Attempting to, and then finding stairs, sometimes while smacking into the rise before the stair first, while Danny follows but get noisy, annoyed, like he isn't.
Making Steve's smile even more smug and sunk in, mouth curved in a press that feels impossible to fight against. Even while Danny is throwing those words at him. Feet landing solidly on the mid rise. Half-way. The thought relieving and exhilarating. Insane. Halfway up and he can stop thinking about it at all. Halfway up the stairs to his room. His bed. Where Danny isn't fighting him on being drug to.
Which he can't think about how can be true. Both at all, and because Danny is saying that suddenly.
Danny is talking about him, naked. Him and his dick, and actually using the word dick, not swearing at some low life he wants to punch for being the worst kind of scum doing something to children, and it slams into Steve like he downed half a bottle of scotch on a dare. Both Danny talking about it, and Danny saying it. Danny, who never. It's not like he's got an entirely clean mouth. But never. He'd never pictured this as part of it either.
It feels like glass is shattering in his head, chain links snapping, when he laughs, against Danny's unspoken threat, even while Danny lunges. Absolutely the reverse of it. Steve's shoulders slamming the wall, and his head hitting a photo, unable to even parse the pain because Danny is suddenly against him, hand dragging him down that he moves to fluidly. Even if only to tense everywhere and shiver at the sensation when Danny is suddenly attached to his throat like a leech.
Talking to every part of his body with it. Every part of his air. Warm and wet. One of Steve's hands finding the back of Danny's head, even as he was shifting down the wall to make it easier, get him closer, and leaning his head away to give Danny more room. Would give Danny anything if he didn't stop. They didn't. None of this did. Even if he really must be insane, because it's popping back inside his head even as he does that. As Danny's mouth pulling on his skin, ratching his pulse even higher, into something that makes Steve's eyes almost roll to a close but doesn't stop him.
"What?" He says, voice caught and tone tense for focusing, when his other hand finally moves.
Rolling with the red, the best way he knows how to. Absolutely. From the bottom to the hilt entirely.
Dropping him further into the boiling oil, when his hand slides deftly straight down to the front of Danny's pants and cup around the -- insane, impossible, but actually presently happening, has been, hasn't stopped being -- bulge there, inside the far too, and hate-able for even more reasons now, nice grey pants. His thumb rubbing up and down fabric heavy along it. "Like this? Is this what you're saying is holding us up?"