He does like tactical superiority. Loves it. Would be raising an eyebrows toward Danny about his choice of words, or maybe his choice of pointing out there that Steve has nothing to do with fairness, when he can be overrunning it. Control something. Which might be true. Even when he's about to toss a tired comment at Danny, which would help if when he looks up from skinning boots and pants, Danny didn't still have that look on his face.
That one that had been pretty much wiped away with deep kisses, with so much less than threaded breath, and grasping hands. Back there. Earlier with the stuttering, and making his mocking of the word better sound like a sudden commitment to the idea that the word couldn't even fit it. Lining his mouth and the color of his eyes, and the hands, that are rapidly finding him. Dragging him back in and down.
And for a moment, it's seriously like being shot. Again. All over, again.
That look he can't explain or justify. Doesn't have the words to even pry from Danny.
Now at this second. Not when Danny is inches away from touching, and then not at all. Fingers skirting his hips, the first touch on newly bared skin, but they aren't staying, still headed back further, curving and pulling with the same earlier strength and thinking about that face even is going to have to wait. Because Steve doesn't have room for both of them, and there is no room for anything but following that touch, but getting back to Danny.
One knee landing between Danny's legs, the other following close behind, and the first hand threading back in his hair, down his head, to the back and his neck tipping his head up. Catching his mouth as Danny drag him back down. When it's going from the brush of fingers on his skin, to the brush of legs and leg hair, to mouth, opening soft, slipping too quickly, too easily back toward wanting more, wanting the everything of seconds ago.
He can't help the groan that splits free, spills on to Danny's lips, tightening fingers briefly, nerve ending firing like a dominio chain of fireworks in his skin. The rest of the world slipping to the side, out of the room, off the too small couch, beyond anything that is not Danny and Danny's hands and and Danny's skin under him. And the way, his weight settles against Danny's body for only a moment, before he has to shift. Tip his hips and rub into Danny, shallow, shameless movements.
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That one that had been pretty much wiped away with deep kisses, with so much less than threaded breath, and grasping hands. Back there. Earlier with the stuttering, and making his mocking of the word better sound like a sudden commitment to the idea that the word couldn't even fit it. Lining his mouth and the color of his eyes, and the hands, that are rapidly finding him. Dragging him back in and down.
And for a moment, it's seriously like being shot. Again. All over, again.
That look he can't explain or justify. Doesn't have the words to even pry from Danny.
Now at this second. Not when Danny is inches away from touching, and then not at all. Fingers skirting his hips, the first touch on newly bared skin, but they aren't staying, still headed back further, curving and pulling with the same earlier strength and thinking about that face even is going to have to wait. Because Steve doesn't have room for both of them, and there is no room for anything but following that touch, but getting back to Danny.
One knee landing between Danny's legs, the other following close behind, and the first hand threading back in his hair, down his head, to the back and his neck tipping his head up. Catching his mouth as Danny drag him back down. When it's going from the brush of fingers on his skin, to the brush of legs and leg hair, to mouth, opening soft, slipping too quickly, too easily back toward wanting more, wanting the everything of seconds ago.
He can't help the groan that splits free, spills on to Danny's lips, tightening fingers briefly, nerve ending firing like a dominio chain of fireworks in his skin. The rest of the world slipping to the side, out of the room, off the too small couch, beyond anything that is not Danny and Danny's hands and and Danny's skin under him. And the way, his weight settles against Danny's body for only a moment, before he has to shift. Tip his hips and rub into Danny, shallow, shameless movements.