He's swearing into clenched teeth, the snapping red-line of his jaw, and he knows his fingers must have made a fist of Danny's hair, but he can't stop. Not once Danny ducks his head right back down. And it's not a kiss this time. It's not a gentle, maddening brush of lips. It's wide, warm, no, hot and wet. Danny's mouth making contact with his skin. When barely has time to be registering it.
When he's jerking from the sudden wash of sensation, and it doesn't stop or slow now. Danny's mouth latching on to a nipple. The feel of warmth, of suction, the graze of teeth, and fast flick of his tongue on a direct collision and control of Steve's hips, grinding into Danny's body. Fingers making it everywhere suddenly. Not the slow, every line drag up his body they'd been doing. Everywhere. Suddenly flitting, digging in, moving, like it can't touch enough, fast enough.
He's going to burn up before this ends, when Danny doesn't even stay at his chest. There are lips and teeth making their way down his chest, fighting against his ribs, snapping apart his holds. And then, in a movement that seems to happen like a void filling itself in, Danny is attacking his mouth. And Steve can feel it going. Everything. With a sickening explosion he doesn't even give a damn about. Both sets of hands finding the sides of Danny's head, finger tips digging in too hard, but he can't stop.
He's held so still, moving feels like the whole world is exploding around him, like he has to kiss Danny, down into the marrow of his bones, almost vicious and proprietary, every bit as hard and as hot as he's being kissed, like it's the only way he can breathe or keep his heart going. That tiny desperately soft whimper slamming into him, eaten by his lips, and shoving itself like burning steal under skin, shoving him up and Danny back. All movement, the world swimming almost to vertigo, after none.
Pulling his legs out from under Danny as he's pushing Danny into the opposte end of the couch, by shoulders, always against him, under him. Never letting go. Covering Danny in a corner of two cushions without any consideration for the small space, or not tossing himself across and on Danny. Mouth moving, still hard, pulling at skin grazing teeth, along his jaw, the hollow under his ear, down across Danny's throat.
Pulling skin hard without warning while his hands are going fast down across Danny, ripping at the bottom of his shirt, fingers under the cloth, catching only for seconds in the skin at Danny's stomach before he's back to pulling it up, without a single care for whether this t-shirt survives the next three seconds, which shows when he's jerking it upward, saying roughly into Danny's skin. "Off, now."
It's almost a growl compared to any of the other words or laughter he had earlier. One with no qualms about making it happen.
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When he's jerking from the sudden wash of sensation, and it doesn't stop or slow now. Danny's mouth latching on to a nipple. The feel of warmth, of suction, the graze of teeth, and fast flick of his tongue on a direct collision and control of Steve's hips, grinding into Danny's body. Fingers making it everywhere suddenly. Not the slow, every line drag up his body they'd been doing. Everywhere. Suddenly flitting, digging in, moving, like it can't touch enough, fast enough.
He's going to burn up before this ends, when Danny doesn't even stay at his chest. There are lips and teeth making their way down his chest, fighting against his ribs, snapping apart his holds. And then, in a movement that seems to happen like a void filling itself in, Danny is attacking his mouth. And Steve can feel it going. Everything. With a sickening explosion he doesn't even give a damn about. Both sets of hands finding the sides of Danny's head, finger tips digging in too hard, but he can't stop.
He's held so still, moving feels like the whole world is exploding around him, like he has to kiss Danny, down into the marrow of his bones, almost vicious and proprietary, every bit as hard and as hot as he's being kissed, like it's the only way he can breathe or keep his heart going. That tiny desperately soft whimper slamming into him, eaten by his lips, and shoving itself like burning steal under skin, shoving him up and Danny back. All movement, the world swimming almost to vertigo, after none.
Pulling his legs out from under Danny as he's pushing Danny into the opposte end of the couch, by shoulders, always against him, under him. Never letting go. Covering Danny in a corner of two cushions without any consideration for the small space, or not tossing himself across and on Danny. Mouth moving, still hard, pulling at skin grazing teeth, along his jaw, the hollow under his ear, down across Danny's throat.
Pulling skin hard without warning while his hands are going fast down across Danny, ripping at the bottom of his shirt, fingers under the cloth, catching only for seconds in the skin at Danny's stomach before he's back to pulling it up, without a single care for whether this t-shirt survives the next three seconds, which shows when he's jerking it upward, saying roughly into Danny's skin. "Off, now."
It's almost a growl compared to any of the other words or laughter he had earlier. One with no qualms about making it happen.