There will never be enough minutes in this night, in these hours, for this.
The inside of his chest filling, steamrollering any lungs and organs stupid enough to be in the way, trying to shove out at his ribs, the way his heart already can't stop tumbling and sprinting toward decimation, as Danny is laughing and smiling right into his skin. That slightly crazy, deeply ragged, bent sound that makes it sound like Steve's suggestion is not only insane, it is literally the other side of impossible.
How is that not supposed to go to his head. How is he not supposed to wrap his hands around it and tug and prod and push at it. Every single time he can. Every single second available to him. How he is he supposed to even turn around, while holding case files, or talking to other officers, and not remember, for a flash of a second, Danny like this. Trembling at the edge of undone.
Letting Steve do this, egging him on with single smart mouthed remark, dragging Steve down into the flame with him.
Steve kissed him, again, even with the words beating at his mouth. Nothing. Nothing was as important as touching him, again. Even when he dragged back with a snort, mouth stretched wide in the kind of smile than was heedless of containment or control, beyond smug and arrogant, into something almost amusing twisted, like Danny had any idea what could be meant by that statement. Danny. "Look who's talking."
Danny wasn't conducive to any of it. His ability to breathe. His ability to think. Whether in here, or even on the job, when it came to certain other cases and specific days in the past. When Steve blew straight past any ability to be stopped, to be willing to listen, to let anything or anyone get in his way, for Danny. Before all of this. Before it was madness spoling out in every direction.
Every reason to stop, to not go forward, beyond the rules themselves already. Every single overturned, rammed through, warning sign. That is a hazy whisper beside all of this. Danny's voice filling his room. Danny's hands mapping his skin, like they are remaking it and burning it down. Danny, himself. Warm under his hands. Under every part of himself, right now, right here. When he can't help rocking a little bit, just to feel Danny. All of him, pressed up tight, even when he's not trying to merge into his skin. Something he'll want to give up.
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The inside of his chest filling, steamrollering any lungs and organs stupid enough to be in the way, trying to shove out at his ribs, the way his heart already can't stop tumbling and sprinting toward decimation, as Danny is laughing and smiling right into his skin. That slightly crazy, deeply ragged, bent sound that makes it sound like Steve's suggestion is not only insane, it is literally the other side of impossible.
How is that not supposed to go to his head. How is he not supposed to wrap his hands around it and tug and prod and push at it. Every single time he can. Every single second available to him. How he is he supposed to even turn around, while holding case files, or talking to other officers, and not remember, for a flash of a second, Danny like this. Trembling at the edge of undone.
Letting Steve do this, egging him on with single smart mouthed remark, dragging Steve down into the flame with him.
Steve kissed him, again, even with the words beating at his mouth. Nothing. Nothing was as important as touching him, again. Even when he dragged back with a snort, mouth stretched wide in the kind of smile than was heedless of containment or control, beyond smug and arrogant, into something almost amusing twisted, like Danny had any idea what could be meant by that statement. Danny. "Look who's talking."
Danny wasn't conducive to any of it. His ability to breathe. His ability to think. Whether in here, or even on the job, when it came to certain other cases and specific days in the past. When Steve blew straight past any ability to be stopped, to be willing to listen, to let anything or anyone get in his way, for Danny. Before all of this. Before it was madness spoling out in every direction.
Every reason to stop, to not go forward, beyond the rules themselves already. Every single overturned, rammed through, warning sign. That is a hazy whisper beside all of this. Danny's voice filling his room. Danny's hands mapping his skin, like they are remaking it and burning it down. Danny, himself. Warm under his hands. Under every part of himself, right now, right here. When he can't help rocking a little bit, just to feel Danny. All of him, pressed up tight, even when he's not trying to merge into his skin. Something he'll want to give up.