He can be totally derisive, and exasperated, because Steve is listening to him, the way Steve always listens to him. Following his hands back down, the way he always follows Danny's hands, except Danny's never tried it like this before, feels a little thrill that it works.
Wonders how many times he could have tried it, in the past. If it would have worked, then.
If Steve was telling the truth. If it's really been years.
But none of that is anything he wants to think about, right now, because he doesn't want to think about anything, right now, just wants to slip back under, go back to floating along that lazy river, with Steve flattened out on top of him, taken out like someone whacked him in the head with a pipe. "Shut up and stop moving."
Drowsy, but not drowsy enough. He doesn't want to even be able to put words together, to form them and speak them. He doesn't want Steve to apologize, and he doesn't want Steve to move. It might be the very last thing he wants, in actuality.
It all happened so fast. The job. The drive. His confession. And. This. No time to stop and think, or let it soak in, or be savored. The only moment of pause that one down at the doorway, when Steve decided to strip down, and even then, Danny didn't get to really take that moment for everything it should have been. Didn't get to fill himself up on looking, or let himself run fingers over every inch of newly exposed skin.
Everything Steve will almost definitely mock him for. Say he's sensitive. And maybe he is, because once Steve capitulates, and settles back down over him, Danny lets his hands and arms relax, and slides one palm up Steve's back, slow and lazy, over the nape of his neck, to curve at the back of his head.
Turning a little towards where Steve's face is not quite pushed into his neck, but his breath is puffing against Danny's damp skin, and his nose is brushing into Danny's hair, and for a second, Danny wants to turn them both over.
Blanket Steve, like Steve's blanketing him. Keep him from trying to get away. A thought that makes Danny shift, a little, under him, and let his other arm circle Steve's waist like a seat belt, even if it doesn't press down, or drag him in.
Just. "Don't go anywhere."
Okay. Not now. Not anymore. Not now that Danny knows.
no subject
"Whatever."
He can be totally derisive, and exasperated, because Steve is listening to him, the way Steve always listens to him. Following his hands back down, the way he always follows Danny's hands, except Danny's never tried it like this before, feels a little thrill that it works.
Wonders how many times he could have tried it, in the past. If it would have worked, then.
If Steve was telling the truth. If it's really been years.
But none of that is anything he wants to think about, right now, because he doesn't want to think about anything, right now, just wants to slip back under, go back to floating along that lazy river, with Steve flattened out on top of him, taken out like someone whacked him in the head with a pipe. "Shut up and stop moving."
Drowsy, but not drowsy enough. He doesn't want to even be able to put words together, to form them and speak them. He doesn't want Steve to apologize, and he doesn't want Steve to move. It might be the very last thing he wants, in actuality.
It all happened so fast. The job. The drive. His confession. And. This. No time to stop and think, or let it soak in, or be savored. The only moment of pause that one down at the doorway, when Steve decided to strip down, and even then, Danny didn't get to really take that moment for everything it should have been. Didn't get to fill himself up on looking, or let himself run fingers over every inch of newly exposed skin.
Everything Steve will almost definitely mock him for. Say he's sensitive. And maybe he is, because once Steve capitulates, and settles back down over him, Danny lets his hands and arms relax, and slides one palm up Steve's back, slow and lazy, over the nape of his neck, to curve at the back of his head.
Turning a little towards where Steve's face is not quite pushed into his neck, but his breath is puffing against Danny's damp skin, and his nose is brushing into Danny's hair, and for a second, Danny wants to turn them both over.
Blanket Steve, like Steve's blanketing him. Keep him from trying to get away. A thought that makes Danny shift, a little, under him, and let his other arm circle Steve's waist like a seat belt, even if it doesn't press down, or drag him in.
Just. "Don't go anywhere."
Okay. Not now. Not anymore. Not now that Danny knows.