It's the stupid joke Steve breathed against his lips. Tungsten steel. And closet space.
It's the rapidly shrinking space in Danny's chest, the closed-in ribs, that's making it hard to breathe in all the wrong ways, none of the ways he wants associated with Steve being this close. With Steve's hands curving possessive over his body, like Steve owns his skin. And Steve pushing his amusement all the more insistently, leaning into him in a way that Danny desperately wants to just want, without tripping over himself into a pitch-black pit, the kind that has a bottom, far down enough it'll break every bone in his body when he lands.
"They barely lasted long enough to say they'd done anything," he points out, edging cautiously around the pit mouth, conscious of the lack of barrier or rescue rope. "And anyway one good evening is hardly enough to go on."
He can do this. Relax. Steve's not working on it, like he did on that stupid Tungsten steel crack. He's not riding the edge of Danny's nerves. The wound-taut coil in his center loosens, minutely.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-02-27 04:27 am (UTC)It is the jeans.
It's the stupid joke Steve breathed against his lips. Tungsten steel. And closet space.
It's the rapidly shrinking space in Danny's chest, the closed-in ribs, that's making it hard to breathe in all the wrong ways, none of the ways he wants associated with Steve being this close. With Steve's hands curving possessive over his body, like Steve owns his skin. And Steve pushing his amusement all the more insistently, leaning into him in a way that Danny desperately wants to just want, without tripping over himself into a pitch-black pit, the kind that has a bottom, far down enough it'll break every bone in his body when he lands.
"They barely lasted long enough to say they'd done anything," he points out, edging cautiously around the pit mouth, conscious of the lack of barrier or rescue rope. "And anyway one good evening is hardly enough to go on."
He can do this. Relax. Steve's not working on it, like he did on that stupid Tungsten steel crack. He's not riding the edge of Danny's nerves. The wound-taut coil in his center loosens, minutely.