Steve lets him, because Steve always lets Danny move him. Rolls to his back, while Danny pushes up, winds up straddling Steve's hips, and bending in toward him, like Steve's mouth is the only source of air left in this room or this world.
Maybe it is.
Air, but not sanity, because Danny can feel that evaporating out from between his own ears, with a tortured shriek like the whistle of a teakettle on a hard boil. Everything condensing, and crystallizing. Guilt, and anger, and want, and longing. As much disgust with himself as there is pure heady need for Steve. His hands, and his mouth. To prove against them that Danny wasn't lying, earlier, that he doesn't want to talk or think about anyone in the past.
He doesn't. Didn't, then. It wasn't about Rachel, or Gabby. Amber. Except in how, if he'd known, at least one would never have happened. Gabby would probably have ended very differently. Playing second fiddle to a woman she knew about, and this man, that she never did, and how could he have expected her to somehow want to stay, knowing she'd always come second, third, fourth?
But it's not about that. This feeling. This need to prove himself. Paint himself across all of Steve's skin. Maybe feel like, if he's straddling Steve, and kissing him into the mattress, Steve won't be able to go anywhere. That Danny will be able to try and start making up for it.
Hands running down his body, over his chest and stomach and sides, down to where Danny's thigh is interrupting the line of his torso. Chasing the edge of his jaw, finally, finally, like he'd been thinking for too much of tonight and wanting for too much of the last three years, down to his throat, the pulse ticking solidly away there, a little faster now, against Danny's tongue.
Steve doesn't want to hear it, but Danny still needs to prove it. That he wants Steve more than almost anything or everything or anyone else in the world. That Steve is important. Second only to Grace.
That he's the only one Danny wants to touch, kiss, roll onto a mattress with. Fight with, even, as long as it doesn't lead to Steve leaving.
Because Steve's not allowed to leave. Danny hasn't had enough time yet.
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Steve lets him, because Steve always lets Danny move him. Rolls to his back, while Danny pushes up, winds up straddling Steve's hips, and bending in toward him, like Steve's mouth is the only source of air left in this room or this world.
Maybe it is.
Air, but not sanity, because Danny can feel that evaporating out from between his own ears, with a tortured shriek like the whistle of a teakettle on a hard boil. Everything condensing, and crystallizing. Guilt, and anger, and want, and longing. As much disgust with himself as there is pure heady need for Steve. His hands, and his mouth. To prove against them that Danny wasn't lying, earlier, that he doesn't want to talk or think about anyone in the past.
He doesn't. Didn't, then. It wasn't about Rachel, or Gabby. Amber. Except in how, if he'd known, at least one would never have happened. Gabby would probably have ended very differently. Playing second fiddle to a woman she knew about, and this man, that she never did, and how could he have expected her to somehow want to stay, knowing she'd always come second, third, fourth?
But it's not about that. This feeling. This need to prove himself. Paint himself across all of Steve's skin. Maybe feel like, if he's straddling Steve, and kissing him into the mattress, Steve won't be able to go anywhere. That Danny will be able to try and start making up for it.
Hands running down his body, over his chest and stomach and sides, down to where Danny's thigh is interrupting the line of his torso. Chasing the edge of his jaw, finally, finally, like he'd been thinking for too much of tonight and wanting for too much of the last three years, down to his throat, the pulse ticking solidly away there, a little faster now, against Danny's tongue.
Steve doesn't want to hear it, but Danny still needs to prove it. That he wants Steve more than almost anything or everything or anyone else in the world. That Steve is important. Second only to Grace.
That he's the only one Danny wants to touch, kiss, roll onto a mattress with. Fight with, even, as long as it doesn't lead to Steve leaving.
Because Steve's not allowed to leave. Danny hasn't had enough time yet.