Danny's hand finds his head, and his kiss feels like fire. A little desperate. A little too honest. Broken over everywhere, and threatening, in the thrum of his skin, everywhere to just let out everything else he's managed to keep closed in his fists. How long. How deep. Through everything. Everything, everything. Everyone. He's wanted Danny. He's been so aware of Danny. Everything he put into everyone's hands, and everything that threw away.
Never seeing him, while Steve couldn't stop seeing him and had no right to be wanting this.
Wanting even more than everything Danny gave him. Like it wasn't enough that it was more than he'd ever gotten before.
Someone at his back, and his side, as much in his real life as on the field. Whom he could trust with full impunity and implicitness. Danny who spoke the truth even when it was the worst thing to say, or share. Who made the god damn hard choices and somehow got himself to other fucking countries he shouldn't have been able to get to, no less make the military do his bidding, to be there every time it was almost the last time Steve's eyes closed and opened because he made it through.
He was allowed all of that, but none of this, and somehow this had been there all along. In Asia, The Middle East, here.
When he can claim it, trying not to let the tsunami of all those years, months, weeks, days, minutes swap straight through him and paint all his sins on Danny's mouth, his skin. Even when something that he can't tell if is a growl or groan, or maybe both, rips its ways out of his chest and straight into Danny's mouth as Danny shifts himself, them, lining everything up, and friction makes fireworks explode behind his eyes and through his whole body. Tears at all of his skin and any strength not to let it all fall.
Burning comets of debris to burn the bed and Danny's ears. Send him running back to wherever else he could want to be. To the places and people who are easier and maybe even better for him. Except that just makes Steve's hands more harder.
"I want you," Steve mouth says, breathing out the fire that is consuming his skin again. When sleep would be impossible, and he'd be rubbing himself on the bed, or his his hand, whether he was awake or asleep. This would never let him go, let him be, ever again. The scent and taste and feel of Danny everywhere. Spurring him on. Needing his hands back on Danny's hips, rubbing them together, tight and perfect, and making the world explode all over again.
Even when the muscles in his back begin to burn with nothing to support them being half upright. His hands needed.
Until Danny rectifies that with shoving him back. Back on his back. Back on his bed. Back under Danny and Danny's hand, while he grates into Danny, and those words are still coming out, like Steve can't stop them. Not saying them, or meaning them, or always having meant them. "I just want you."
More than sleep. More than sanity. More than even fucking thinking. Breathing. Everywhere, and every way he could have Danny. When his brain was suggesting so many other things. Sweat and force, madness in every bit of his body, and losing it. On Danny. In Danny.
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Danny's hand finds his head, and his kiss feels like fire. A little desperate. A little too honest. Broken over everywhere, and threatening, in the thrum of his skin, everywhere to just let out everything else he's managed to keep closed in his fists. How long. How deep. Through everything. Everything, everything. Everyone. He's wanted Danny. He's been so aware of Danny. Everything he put into everyone's hands, and everything that threw away.
Never seeing him, while Steve couldn't stop seeing him and had no right to be wanting this.
Wanting even more than everything Danny gave him. Like it wasn't enough that it was more than he'd ever gotten before.
Someone at his back, and his side, as much in his real life as on the field. Whom he could trust with full impunity and implicitness. Danny who spoke the truth even when it was the worst thing to say, or share. Who made the god damn hard choices and somehow got himself to other fucking countries he shouldn't have been able to get to, no less make the military do his bidding, to be there every time it was almost the last time Steve's eyes closed and opened because he made it through.
He was allowed all of that, but none of this, and somehow this had been there all along. In Asia, The Middle East, here.
When he can claim it, trying not to let the tsunami of all those years, months, weeks, days, minutes swap straight through him and paint all his sins on Danny's mouth, his skin. Even when something that he can't tell if is a growl or groan, or maybe both, rips its ways out of his chest and straight into Danny's mouth as Danny shifts himself, them, lining everything up, and friction makes fireworks explode behind his eyes and through his whole body. Tears at all of his skin and any strength not to let it all fall.
Burning comets of debris to burn the bed and Danny's ears. Send him running back to wherever else he could want to be.
To the places and people who are easier and maybe even better for him. Except that just makes Steve's hands more harder.
"I want you," Steve mouth says, breathing out the fire that is consuming his skin again. When sleep would be impossible, and he'd be rubbing himself on the bed, or his his hand, whether he was awake or asleep. This would never let him go, let him be, ever again. The scent and taste and feel of Danny everywhere. Spurring him on. Needing his hands back on Danny's hips, rubbing them together, tight and perfect, and making the world explode all over again.
Even when the muscles in his back begin to burn with nothing to support them being half upright. His hands needed.
Until Danny rectifies that with shoving him back. Back on his back. Back on his bed. Back under Danny and Danny's hand, while he grates into Danny, and those words are still coming out, like Steve can't stop them. Not saying them, or meaning them, or always having meant them. "I just want you."
More than sleep. More than sanity. More than even fucking thinking. Breathing. Everywhere, and every way he could have Danny. When his brain was suggesting so many other things. Sweat and force, madness in every bit of his body, and losing it. On Danny. In Danny.