He doesn't even know how to explain that feeling, like something explodes in his brain, behind his eyes, levels his chest, when Danny even jokes about that. Danny who has spent every day of two years, in which he was present anywhere near Steve, telling him how terrible of a cop he isn't, and how many rules he's breaking, and how everything is different on the ground. Hearing him shove it all out the window?
Maddening. Even more so than Danny's tone, amused and rejecting. When he doesn't fight, falls into bed, hands snaking up against Steve's skin. Possessive, fingers stretching wide, still dragging him in. Closer, closer, closer. The words like a heart beat. Like the world already stopped existing against, and it's just Danny. From one end of the spectrum, where he was quite and freaking out, to the other, where those hands are everywhere.
Words singeing the air Steve's trying to breathe in. When breathing is over rated. Everything is overrated but Danny. Danny touching him. Trusting him. Choosing him. Over everything he's clutched tighter than air, only marginally less tighter than Grace. When Steve's leaning down, the fire Danny talked about, already soaring under his skin, in the faster breaths from Danny. In leaning in and finding his mouth, while sliding. A knee between Danny's legs, a hand on the other side of Danny, while shaking his head.
Like he's got some control. Any leg to stand on, for mocking Danny, and his decent into madness. Isn't matching every step. Hasn't been walking it long enough he paved the path, built shelters to hide behind, long before Danny even got here.
"No, I don't think so," Steve said, letting his mouth loose. "The damage from those is incredibly minimal." "Well." His head tipped in thought a beat. "Unless you're going to stab someone in the eye with it."
Or, really, any orifice. Structural integrity wouldn't survive much else down with the sticks. If that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-02 04:01 pm (UTC)Maddening. Even more so than Danny's tone, amused and rejecting. When he doesn't fight, falls into bed, hands snaking up against Steve's skin. Possessive, fingers stretching wide, still dragging him in. Closer, closer, closer. The words like a heart beat. Like the world already stopped existing against, and it's just Danny. From one end of the spectrum, where he was quite and freaking out, to the other, where those hands are everywhere.
Words singeing the air Steve's trying to breathe in. When breathing is over rated. Everything is overrated but Danny. Danny touching him. Trusting him. Choosing him. Over everything he's clutched tighter than air, only marginally less tighter than Grace. When Steve's leaning down, the fire Danny talked about, already soaring under his skin, in the faster breaths from Danny. In leaning in and finding his mouth, while sliding. A knee between Danny's legs, a hand on the other side of Danny, while shaking his head.
Like he's got some control. Any leg to stand on, for mocking Danny, and his decent into madness. Isn't matching every step.
Hasn't been walking it long enough he paved the path, built shelters to hide behind, long before Danny even got here.
"No, I don't think so," Steve said, letting his mouth loose. "The damage from those is incredibly minimal."
"Well." His head tipped in thought a beat. "Unless you're going to stab someone in the eye with it."
Or, really, any orifice. Structural integrity wouldn't survive much else down with the sticks. If that.