There are lots of things Steve is good at. Like driving Danny up a wall. Or shooting things. Making other things disappear in as large an explosion as possible. Driving things, flying things. Swimming, and diving. He's good at running, good at strategy, good at getting the attention of even the most jaded and bored of waitresses.
And he's good at this, too. Mouth clever against Danny's skin, but lighter than Danny expects. Especially when Steve is grinning at him, and his hand was at Danny's wrist.
Not anymore. Now, it's tipping Danny's head, fingers pressed warm against his jaw and cheek, leaving Danny's hand free to find the back of Steve's head and cradle it, all too aware now of the tiny sound trying to force it's way up and free from the grip in his lungs. He's got to be, now that Steve's mentioned them, labeled them obscene, which is, thanks, just not accurate, alright. This is not some porn session, there's nothing heavy and creepy about this. It's almost a whimper, choked into a moan that doesn't actually make it past the lowest part of his throat.
"Oh, sure," he says, instead, goading, despite the threadiness of his voice, the way air doesn't quite seem to be working the way it normally does in his voice. "But you, you're good at everything, aren't you." Heavily sarcastic. Disbelieving. Like Danny can't believe Steve manages to put his shoes on the right feet in the morning.
"No, don't answer that. I don't need your ego getting in bed, too, there's only so much room here."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-03-03 04:16 am (UTC)And he's good at this, too. Mouth clever against Danny's skin, but lighter than Danny expects. Especially when Steve is grinning at him, and his hand was at Danny's wrist.
Not anymore. Now, it's tipping Danny's head, fingers pressed warm against his jaw and cheek, leaving Danny's hand free to find the back of Steve's head and cradle it, all too aware now of the tiny sound trying to force it's way up and free from the grip in his lungs. He's got to be, now that Steve's mentioned them, labeled them obscene, which is, thanks, just not accurate, alright. This is not some porn session, there's nothing heavy and creepy about this. It's almost a whimper, choked into a moan that doesn't actually make it past the lowest part of his throat.
"Oh, sure," he says, instead, goading, despite the threadiness of his voice, the way air doesn't quite seem to be working the way it normally does in his voice. "But you, you're good at everything, aren't you." Heavily sarcastic. Disbelieving. Like Danny can't believe Steve manages to put his shoes on the right feet in the morning.
"No, don't answer that. I don't need your ego getting in bed, too, there's only so much room here."