He can feel it. He's close enough to. Danny's frustration, that feels like it's growing, like the tremor under the land before something happens. Under his hands, against his mouth. Like this isn't enough. Any of it. Even when Danny's hand is all but ground into his back, when he's giving back as much as he's getting at the very least. When he's going to leave imprints all over Steve's skin, and any chance of sanity left.
Crumbling, fading, turning to ash and dust and wind. Turning into fire, and desperate need, and clawing fear.
Climbing up outward, inside his skin, like stinging nettled between each layer of muscle. Snapping out, everywhere violent and sudden and sharp as lightning, causing him to hold on tighter. Almost desperately, which works not at all when it's the second Danny is pulling away. Or well. Maybe not away. Hands still not letting go, not pulling out of Steve's space, from being plastered against Steve, as much as he can while Steve's bending down.
But still away. Still away enough that it's not enough, feeling Danny's breath on his lips, Danny's voice bouncing off his own mouth, sinking into his skin and swimming for his ears through an endless wave on wave of distortion. Of everything so loud, so everywhere. Frantic and frenetic under his skin, in his head, when he's opening his eyes, dazed to watch Danny say that last word.
Like he's not sure. Like he might be talking to himself, and Steve is just trespassing on the need for words here.
Steve may have opened his mouth, thought likely with very little idea at all what he could say now. Which doesn't matter, because by the time he has, Danny's mouth. His mouth that was allowed to pause, breathing hard, chest and shoulders rising and falling. Because Danny's mouth? Goes right back to his. Like somehow, in any universe Steve has a leg to stand on.
Like he could, after kissing Danny. After the way Danny is kissing him, again, shutting him up instead of asking for more words this time. After the way Danny's hands can't let go of him for longer than a second, before they tighten, again. Like it's imprinted into Danny's muscles he can't let go because then Steve would vanish finally. Like he meant to.
When there's nothing left but to submit. But to give the hell up on words, and fight to claim Danny's mouth, god, to deserve any part of this now. Like he never could -- vanish; deserve; speak -- when there's a deep, dark, semi-broken groan being torn out of bottom of his chest. Because there is nothing. Nothing that could pry him away from Danny at this second. Nothing.
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Crumbling, fading, turning to ash and dust and wind. Turning into fire, and desperate need, and clawing fear.
Climbing up outward, inside his skin, like stinging nettled between each layer of muscle. Snapping out, everywhere violent and sudden and sharp as lightning, causing him to hold on tighter. Almost desperately, which works not at all when it's the second Danny is pulling away. Or well. Maybe not away. Hands still not letting go, not pulling out of Steve's space, from being plastered against Steve, as much as he can while Steve's bending down.
But still away. Still away enough that it's not enough, feeling Danny's breath on his lips, Danny's voice bouncing off his own mouth, sinking into his skin and swimming for his ears through an endless wave on wave of distortion. Of everything so loud, so everywhere. Frantic and frenetic under his skin, in his head, when he's opening his eyes, dazed to watch Danny say that last word.
Like he's not sure. Like he might be talking to himself, and Steve is just trespassing on the need for words here.
Steve may have opened his mouth, thought likely with very little idea at all what he could say now. Which doesn't matter, because by the time he has, Danny's mouth. His mouth that was allowed to pause, breathing hard, chest and shoulders rising and falling. Because Danny's mouth? Goes right back to his. Like somehow, in any universe Steve has a leg to stand on.
Like he could, after kissing Danny. After the way Danny is kissing him, again, shutting him up instead of asking for more words this time. After the way Danny's hands can't let go of him for longer than a second, before they tighten, again. Like it's imprinted into Danny's muscles he can't let go because then Steve would vanish finally. Like he meant to.
When there's nothing left but to submit. But to give the hell up on words, and fight to claim Danny's mouth, god, to deserve any part of this now. Like he never could -- vanish; deserve; speak -- when there's a deep, dark, semi-broken groan being torn out of bottom of his chest. Because there is nothing. Nothing that could pry him away from Danny at this second. Nothing.