He doesn't exactly know how it happens. It's almost disorienting in it's fastness. This dazzlingly bright, giddy smile smacks itself across Danny's mouth in front of his eyes, when that mouth is not still trying to pull the bottom of his spine out through his tongue, and then suddenly, that smile and Danny's face, and this bubble of soft laughter is being smothered into his neck.
There's blonde hair catching on his stubble and messy across his cheek and his vision, nearly in his eyes. Air plungering itself into his lungs and veins and Danny is laughing. Soft, low, like he just got the best joke. And Steve doesn't even get to ask before he's back up, again. Back up, the echo of biting, fierce pressure still on Steve's mouth, and the warmth of breath and friction against his neck, while his eyes are back on that smile.
The stupid, brilliant smile that he hasn't a clue what or how or where exactly. Only that's it there, and bewilderingly, it's making the edges of Steve's mouth twitch. He's so damn beautiful. How can he, or the rest of the world with the chance to, not see that. More people catch it than Danny ever seems to see. Steve doesn't. But then Steve was number one on that list. Of the people who noticed and whom Danny never saw.
Until now. Now, when Danny is staring down at him with that smile, bright and teasing, calling him on being impatient and reckless and maybe having a pattern, rushing forward like every single second is a sprint. Like Steve might have a single thing to be embarrassed about where it came to this, or even Danny himself. Like Danny pushing up like this, won't make it even easier to pull the shirt off him, that he isn't already there. Five steps ahead of there.
Ahead of the curve, and off the cliff. Even though he likes these jeans and he likes Danny's weight on top of him. Even like the thoughts it inspires that are nowhere near the menu of anything they've been doing for these two weeks. But he's hardly about to apologize for that, when Danny is jeans, on top of him, with smile, making every single inch of his skin on the outside pull tight and splashing the inside of his chest with such warmth.
He lets the words come out better than warmed in the sun all day, smooth and thick and slow, drawing out every single word in the sentence with far more intention and implication than the spoken words themselves, "I have a problem with every single piece of your--" And he pauses, to give Danny's chest towards his jeans a one second look. "--clothing."
And even when the words roll on, a spark of smugness dragging his mouth crooked and leaving it there, his tone and every implication, even though the rest. "You haven't been listening at all the last two years? I made it pretty clear."
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-11 11:19 pm (UTC)There's blonde hair catching on his stubble and messy across his cheek and his vision, nearly in his eyes. Air plungering itself into his lungs and veins and Danny is laughing. Soft, low, like he just got the best joke. And Steve doesn't even get to ask before he's back up, again. Back up, the echo of biting, fierce pressure still on Steve's mouth, and the warmth of breath and friction against his neck, while his eyes are back on that smile.
The stupid, brilliant smile that he hasn't a clue what or how or where exactly. Only that's it there, and bewilderingly, it's making the edges of Steve's mouth twitch. He's so damn beautiful. How can he, or the rest of the world with the chance to, not see that. More people catch it than Danny ever seems to see. Steve doesn't. But then Steve was number one on that list. Of the people who noticed and whom Danny never saw.
Until now. Now, when Danny is staring down at him with that smile, bright and teasing, calling him on being impatient and reckless and maybe having a pattern, rushing forward like every single second is a sprint. Like Steve might have a single thing to be embarrassed about where it came to this, or even Danny himself. Like Danny pushing up like this, won't make it even easier to pull the shirt off him, that he isn't already there. Five steps ahead of there.
Ahead of the curve, and off the cliff. Even though he likes these jeans and he likes Danny's weight on top of him. Even like the thoughts it inspires that are nowhere near the menu of anything they've been doing for these two weeks. But he's hardly about to apologize for that, when Danny is jeans, on top of him, with smile, making every single inch of his skin on the outside pull tight and splashing the inside of his chest with such warmth.
He lets the words come out better than warmed in the sun all day, smooth and thick and slow, drawing out every single word in the sentence with far more intention and implication than the spoken words themselves, "I have a problem with every single piece of your--" And he pauses, to give Danny's chest towards his jeans a one second look. "--clothing."
And even when the words roll on, a spark of smugness dragging his mouth crooked and leaving it there, his tone and every implication, even though the rest. "You haven't been listening at all the last two years? I made it pretty clear."