It's rough, and it's ragged. A shriek of air in the destruction of his lungs, and Steve, holding at that bite, before pushing into him with desperate, short thrusts. All speed and messy rhythm, shoving Danny's heart into overdrive and electrifying muscles until they shake. A hand slipping under his leg, tugging it up, and he lets it, wraps that leg up by Steve's hip. Curling under him, legs tight, arm tight, fingers tight.
Everything burning into a blaze of desperation and need so thick it's like requiring air to breath or blood to run. Wanting Steve under his hands, wrapped in legs and arms and anything else he can get on him, as deep gut-punches of pleasure rock him in shudders and groans stifled deep in his throat. Sweat sliding between his shoulders and back and the couch cushions, and there's nothing, nothing in existence except Steve and the back and forth glide of bodies, interrupted and stumbling, now, frantic, pushing for speed and not elegance. Steve's hips bucking smooth under his hands, and Steve's fingers reaching for his hair, tugging him away from the pulse flying under his tongue.
Mouth opening to that word, head spinning. When Steve. Steve. Steve. Is bringing him along, dragging him onto this insane rollercoaster, next to him, with him, like always, right there, never more than an outstretched hand away. Now close enough to kiss, for Danny's breath to be half air and half Steve's staggered gasps. The snapping brilliant shock of teeth, nipping at his lip, making him push back, harder, shoulders lifting off the couch as his stomach contracts, muscles shivering. Hips tucking helplessly.
When there's nothing, nothing at all he wants more than he wants Steve. All of him. Every inch of him. Every messed up thought and inclination and every escalated response, every bad memory and every luminous smile. Shaking hard enough the couch could shiver apart. Muscles standing out hard under skin, as he pushes, shoves, erasing everything but sheer pleasure from the shattered remains of Danny's thoughts.
Where nothing else is worth a damn. Not bad ideas, or old fears. Not the knowledge this will end, and probably badly. Not the trapdoor that had opened under his feet. Nothing but his fingers digging into Steve's skin, and the dominoes that aren't getting tipped so much as they are being devastated. Everything coiling tight, begging to snap, and it's close, he's so close, can't even control his body anymore, just lets it take over with helpless jerks, because Steve's got him, okay, saying c'mon because they're in this together, like always.
Hand at the side of Steve's neck, sliding to palm the side of his face, back down again, and the cards are starting to fall everywhere, silent flashes incinerating in his head and chest. There. There. As the ground opens up beneath him again and he topples into it, joints locking, body shaking hard and heavy, head-punched and demolished.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-16 04:55 am (UTC)Everything burning into a blaze of desperation and need so thick it's like requiring air to breath or blood to run. Wanting Steve under his hands, wrapped in legs and arms and anything else he can get on him, as deep gut-punches of pleasure rock him in shudders and groans stifled deep in his throat. Sweat sliding between his shoulders and back and the couch cushions, and there's nothing, nothing in existence except Steve and the back and forth glide of bodies, interrupted and stumbling, now, frantic, pushing for speed and not elegance. Steve's hips bucking smooth under his hands, and Steve's fingers reaching for his hair, tugging him away from the pulse flying under his tongue.
Mouth opening to that word, head spinning. When Steve. Steve. Steve. Is bringing him along, dragging him onto this insane rollercoaster, next to him, with him, like always, right there, never more than an outstretched hand away. Now close enough to kiss, for Danny's breath to be half air and half Steve's staggered gasps. The snapping brilliant shock of teeth, nipping at his lip, making him push back, harder, shoulders lifting off the couch as his stomach contracts, muscles shivering. Hips tucking helplessly.
When there's nothing, nothing at all he wants more than he wants Steve. All of him. Every inch of him. Every messed up thought and inclination and every escalated response, every bad memory and every luminous smile. Shaking hard enough the couch could shiver apart. Muscles standing out hard under skin, as he pushes, shoves, erasing everything but sheer pleasure from the shattered remains of Danny's thoughts.
Where nothing else is worth a damn. Not bad ideas, or old fears. Not the knowledge this will end, and probably badly. Not the trapdoor that had opened under his feet. Nothing but his fingers digging into Steve's skin, and the dominoes that aren't getting tipped so much as they are being devastated. Everything coiling tight, begging to snap, and it's close, he's so close, can't even control his body anymore, just lets it take over with helpless jerks, because Steve's got him, okay, saying c'mon because they're in this together, like always.
Hand at the side of Steve's neck, sliding to palm the side of his face, back down again, and the cards are starting to fall everywhere, silent flashes incinerating in his head and chest. There. There. As the ground opens up beneath him again and he topples into it, joints locking, body shaking hard and heavy, head-punched and demolished.