It distracts them both, even as they push and pull with words. They both seems to fall under the same, too. The way a kiss stops everything. Not because they mean to, but because one of them slides, and the other one seems like all they can do is follow. Tangled up, sinking beneath the waves. Tumbling deeper into each other, until someone needs air and words suddenly exist at the same time.

Bubbling up, forcing more space, air, thoughts through the endless press of pressure slowly building up and up and up.

Prying in the lights, with the curl of amusement and pleased denial in Danny's voice. The way Steve can hear it coming. He's wrong. He's pushing, prodding, choosing the right words. And Danny is coming right along with him into it, too. And how did this happen. When did it go from something Steve couldn't even consider, not even side-eye what it all was, not even when he was listening to Danny swear and rant and beg on a voicemail, to that fact they're all tangled up, joking about it?

"That isn't what you just said?" Steve taunted, eyebrows raising, mouth curving wide. Making the entire reaction over the top.

Even when it's gutted. Threaded thinner by the fingers crossing over his skin, causing him to tip and shift. Pushing into him, reactively, only to stretch and arch up into Danny hands, even as his muscles tightened against the skin that's so much more sensitive. The skin to prickle behind and around where those hands touch him. Gutting his thoughts. Blistering through the thought, like air's necessity, there will never be enough of this.

Of these hands. Of the way all of this feels. All the touches and the teasing. All the warm, sharp words. The surprise rushes of heat and want.