Teeth, sharp against his shoulder, a sudden sting and ache that's bound to leave a mark, and he's breathless, head back against the cushion, hips canting up helplessly, half laughing and half groaning, saying, "Jesus, Steve, don't damage the merchandise, huh?" but you break it you bought it doesn't seem like it would stop Steve right now.
Neither would reminding him that as much as Danny hates going to the beach, it does, occasionally happen, and this, this is exactly the kind of thing Kono would never let him live down. Not that Danny is thinking clearly enough to point that out. Not when Steve is shoving into him, grinding hard and hot. Forcing himself closer. Making one of Danny's hands run up his back, over shifting, twisting muscle. The other dropping to curve, hard, down over the back of his pants. Fingers pressing hard into the curve of his ass, pulling his tighter, closer.
Because it's still not close enough. Not even when it's bare skin sliding against bare skin, and Steve's mouth is hard against his shoulder. Not when Steve is groaning into his skin, swearing into it, his name dragging in some three a.m. version of his voice, thick and scraped from the bottom of the barrel, a dull razorblade over Danny's nerves, snapping each one of them, one at a time, like strings snapping on a violin.
When the only thing he can think is more and Steve and he can't even, can barely register the fact that Steve is doing this to him, that he's doing it to Steve, his hands gripping and owning that expanse of skin, the beltloops, pants, legs. Feeling like he's getting rolled out by a cement mixer, Steve is so heavy and he's big, it's like being attacked by a mountainside, crushing Danny into the couch and Danny does not give a single fuck, as long as Steve doesn't stop what he's doing. Curling up into him, to give as good as he gets, as much as he can, cheek pressing into the cushion, neck stretched and straining under Steve's mouth.
So much for taking a minute, taking a second to adjust, to consider, to enjoy, but everything is burning and his heart is catapulting, head singing, and he doesn't care, there's time later, there will be. Right now it's only Steve, only him, the rest of the world can burn to a crisp except for Grace and him.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-13 03:52 am (UTC)Neither would reminding him that as much as Danny hates going to the beach, it does, occasionally happen, and this, this is exactly the kind of thing Kono would never let him live down. Not that Danny is thinking clearly enough to point that out. Not when Steve is shoving into him, grinding hard and hot. Forcing himself closer. Making one of Danny's hands run up his back, over shifting, twisting muscle. The other dropping to curve, hard, down over the back of his pants. Fingers pressing hard into the curve of his ass, pulling his tighter, closer.
Because it's still not close enough. Not even when it's bare skin sliding against bare skin, and Steve's mouth is hard against his shoulder. Not when Steve is groaning into his skin, swearing into it, his name dragging in some three a.m. version of his voice, thick and scraped from the bottom of the barrel, a dull razorblade over Danny's nerves, snapping each one of them, one at a time, like strings snapping on a violin.
When the only thing he can think is more and Steve and he can't even, can barely register the fact that Steve is doing this to him, that he's doing it to Steve, his hands gripping and owning that expanse of skin, the beltloops, pants, legs. Feeling like he's getting rolled out by a cement mixer, Steve is so heavy and he's big, it's like being attacked by a mountainside, crushing Danny into the couch and Danny does not give a single fuck, as long as Steve doesn't stop what he's doing. Curling up into him, to give as good as he gets, as much as he can, cheek pressing into the cushion, neck stretched and straining under Steve's mouth.
So much for taking a minute, taking a second to adjust, to consider, to enjoy, but everything is burning and his heart is catapulting, head singing, and he doesn't care, there's time later, there will be. Right now it's only Steve, only him, the rest of the world can burn to a crisp except for Grace and him.