It's not all that terrible. Having his ready retort silenced by Danny. His mouth. A kiss that is so much more demanding of an immediate response than any of the words in that question Danny had thrown out. Fingers having slid up into his his hair, and then tightened, dragging him in. No question in that part. No question in the way he answer, just as ready as words. No part of him held at bay.
Tipping into Danny's mouth, lips salty and warm, like a landslide. One arm against the back of the couch, and the other finding Danny's side, again. When he knows, even if he has no way to keep his words, or back them up, or prove them empirically real, that they still are. Are everywhere, in inch inch of his veins. When this feels almost like back to normal. If there is a normal. If you can make a normal in so few days.
Not part of a promise. Not something to steal. Not something to prove a point. Not anything more than Danny wanting to kiss him, so much so that even getting an answer doesn't matters beside it. Not that Steve doesn't still have, doesn't let it fall out, more breathless words than the amusement trying to trickle into his too bare expression.
"Not every weekend. Not last weekend." And Steve would know. The whole lot of them would know. Danny Williams. In slacks and a button up even at a weekend BBQ. There are reasons for those bets. Even more so for the one that held out when and if Danny William's wore, or even owned shorts, that were not underwear or board shorts, and whether anyone was likely to ever see this occurrence take place.
"Unless you're telling me this is another habit you picked up while I was gone."
You know. Like any of this. Hands on Steve's skin, kissing him. This mattering. So much that for a minute it shook everything.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-09 04:40 pm (UTC)Tipping into Danny's mouth, lips salty and warm, like a landslide. One arm against the back of the couch, and the other finding Danny's side, again. When he knows, even if he has no way to keep his words, or back them up, or prove them empirically real, that they still are. Are everywhere, in inch inch of his veins. When this feels almost like back to normal. If there is a normal. If you can make a normal in so few days.
Not part of a promise. Not something to steal. Not something to prove a point. Not anything more than Danny wanting to kiss him, so much so that even getting an answer doesn't matters beside it. Not that Steve doesn't still have, doesn't let it fall out, more breathless words than the amusement trying to trickle into his too bare expression.
"Not every weekend. Not last weekend." And Steve would know. The whole lot of them would know. Danny Williams. In slacks and a button up even at a weekend BBQ. There are reasons for those bets. Even more so for the one that held out when and if Danny William's wore, or even owned shorts, that were not underwear or board shorts, and whether anyone was likely to ever see this occurrence take place.
"Unless you're telling me this is another habit you picked up while I was gone."
You know. Like any of this. Hands on Steve's skin, kissing him. This mattering. So much that for a minute it shook everything.