He's being pulled at and shoved, and the last thing Steve's about to do, even when he's trying not to laugh at the irritating making sharp edges out of all of Danny's words, is not follow. God. Like there's any way he'd move anywhere else. Anything else in the world, the universe, needed more than following those hands. Being drug so that he's covering even more of Danny, laying on top of him.
Unable to keep a groan from slipping through his lips, into Danny's mouth. Because he might have been fine with just driving home the damn point, but Danny would not be. And his own body is making it stunningly clear, especially when he's manhandled like he's anything smaller and easier moved than he is, that it really likes all of this. Which is not a surprise. But it still has his back arch, stomach muscles all crunching tight, grinding down into Danny at a flash of actually unexpected sparks.
"Yeah," Steve shot back. Not a single second's hesitation for Danny's question, that wasn't taken up in kissing Danny.
In driving the man's head into the pillow, by a handful of hair, or into the bed with the hand at his hip still. Before he slid his face, like he couldn't get close enough. Didn't want a single inch between his mouth and Danny's ear. Like Danny could possibly miss it. Even from five inches away.
When Steve barely permits the one in the smoldering, golden, doubtlessness of, "Me."
Every bit of him. Somehow. No matter how crazy, beyond of control, it is and he is and they get. Danny keeps saying it. Keeps dragging him in, and pushing him further, harder, higher. Always meeting him and giving him just as much, too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-03-04 01:49 am (UTC)Unable to keep a groan from slipping through his lips, into Danny's mouth. Because he might have been fine with just driving home the damn point, but Danny would not be. And his own body is making it stunningly clear, especially when he's manhandled like he's anything smaller and easier moved than he is, that it really likes all of this. Which is not a surprise. But it still has his back arch, stomach muscles all crunching tight, grinding down into Danny at a flash of actually unexpected sparks.
"Yeah," Steve shot back. Not a single second's hesitation for Danny's question, that wasn't taken up in kissing Danny.
In driving the man's head into the pillow, by a handful of hair, or into the bed with the hand at his hip still. Before he slid his face, like he couldn't get close enough. Didn't want a single inch between his mouth and Danny's ear. Like Danny could possibly miss it. Even from five inches away.
When Steve barely permits the one in the smoldering, golden, doubtlessness of, "Me."
Every bit of him. Somehow. No matter how crazy, beyond of control, it is and he is and they get. Danny keeps saying it.
Keeps dragging him in, and pushing him further, harder, higher. Always meeting him and giving him just as much, too.