Danny's mouth is an incredibly good distraction, and if he hadn't meant to be distracted by it, or to distract Danny by pressing against it, he might have thought a little more before he was kissing him. Not that he can. Not that he ever does. Not that he did that morning in his living room, when the world obliterated on so few words, the strangest disjointed questions, and the inability to not. To not step into Danny's space, and take everything.
Fingers in his hair, finding Danny's mouth and tasting everything right off it. Every real word and impossible fantasy.
No part of him that really wanted to keep fighting, not for another minute, another second when those words. The way his muscles clench and he stretched long and out under Danny's weight, against the warmth of his breath. The press of his lips. Danny's mouth shifting across his face. Drawing heat down across his cheek, toward his jaw. Breath pressed into him, friction that makes his head rush, eyelids straining to close, tilting his head away.
Leaving himself at the mercy of Danny's touch, whatever skin Danny wants. Even when it's all, everything else, important still, only hanging on by tender hooks, under the heavy breaths escaping out his nose, causing his chest to rise slightly faster. Fingertips digging in against muscle on Danny's back for purchase, when he's pushing up against Danny's mouth. Tracing against his skin, words trapped there, not argued. Like maybe his point isn't lost. It's not black and white. One or the other. Danny can't own it all.
Uncertain whether he's going to manage focusing, or simply loose it along the way. Hanging on against that touch, the fire singing itself into his skin, under Danny's touch, fingers creeping further into Danny's hair, cradling his head close against him, even when he's giving him as much skin as he could possibly want, anything he wants. "And we're in this together, right?"
Not one sided. Not casual. Not other people. Not ending today, tonight, tomorrow morning. Not keeping each other in dark about what's going on. Where they're going, what they're doing. Doesn't that mean this, too? Or does it? He doesn't even know. Wants. To know. Needs to. Wants. Him not to stop, or pull away, right now, again.
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Fingers in his hair, finding Danny's mouth and tasting everything right off it. Every real word and impossible fantasy.
No part of him that really wanted to keep fighting, not for another minute, another second when those words. The way his muscles clench and he stretched long and out under Danny's weight, against the warmth of his breath. The press of his lips. Danny's mouth shifting across his face. Drawing heat down across his cheek, toward his jaw. Breath pressed into him, friction that makes his head rush, eyelids straining to close, tilting his head away.
Leaving himself at the mercy of Danny's touch, whatever skin Danny wants. Even when it's all, everything else, important still, only hanging on by tender hooks, under the heavy breaths escaping out his nose, causing his chest to rise slightly faster. Fingertips digging in against muscle on Danny's back for purchase, when he's pushing up against Danny's mouth. Tracing against his skin, words trapped there, not argued. Like maybe his point isn't lost. It's not black and white. One or the other. Danny can't own it all.
Uncertain whether he's going to manage focusing, or simply loose it along the way. Hanging on against that touch, the fire singing itself into his skin, under Danny's touch, fingers creeping further into Danny's hair, cradling his head close against him, even when he's giving him as much skin as he could possibly want, anything he wants. "And we're in this together, right?"
Not one sided. Not casual. Not other people. Not ending today, tonight, tomorrow morning. Not keeping each other in dark about what's going on. Where they're going, what they're doing. Doesn't that mean this, too? Or does it? He doesn't even know. Wants. To know. Needs to. Wants. Him not to stop, or pull away, right now, again.