It's maybe a little odd to be doing this with the background noise they've got, but the room is pretty dim and the movie isn't on too loud, and, really, as far as distractions go, Steve is just honestly stellar. Even when he's not demanding all of Danny's focus, he gets it anyway, because there is so much to take in: the stubble scraping rough against Danny's fingers, that still can't hide the softness of skin underneath, the warmth that goes chasing through veins and floods close to the surface to follow the path Danny's fingers trace. The tiny hitch, not of breath but of everything, the slightest of pauses when Danny curves his fingers into Steve's hair.
Making the world focus down to just this. Breath, and the brush of tongue and lips, and sinking into it, twisting slightly for a better angle. He'll have a hell of a crick in his neck, but he doesn't yet, and it's worth it, to be back here, to have Steve leaning into him and around him, back in his space like he doesn't think Danny should get to have it all to himself.
And it feels like kind of a turning point, something Steve isn't going to argue or weaponize, something he's not going to lock away as a potential landmine. The kind of normal kiss that Danny's starting to get used to again, just because Steve is there and he'd rather be tasting him, following the branching pulse point s across Steve's body with his mouth and fingers, would rather listen to the way his breathing starts and stops and holds, nowhere near the ragged disastrous edge but just this side of not quite normal, either.
Not that this is the best position, exactly. He can't really get hands on Steve the way he wants, like this, but there's something to be said for these small touches, when only their sides are touching and their hands are at the other's jaw, cheek, the nape of their neck. Intimate in a way that's nothing really like the times they're pressed flush to each other, like they're each trying to go straight through the other one. This is quieter. Calmer. Almost sweet, if that was a word Danny felt like might ever be used for Steve.
So he takes his time. Enjoys it. Forgets all about the movie in the background, the beer sweating lightly against his slacks. Everything there is except Steve and the slow warm press of his mouth.
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Making the world focus down to just this. Breath, and the brush of tongue and lips, and sinking into it, twisting slightly for a better angle. He'll have a hell of a crick in his neck, but he doesn't yet, and it's worth it, to be back here, to have Steve leaning into him and around him, back in his space like he doesn't think Danny should get to have it all to himself.
And it feels like kind of a turning point, something Steve isn't going to argue or weaponize, something he's not going to lock away as a potential landmine. The kind of normal kiss that Danny's starting to get used to again, just because Steve is there and he'd rather be tasting him, following the branching pulse point s across Steve's body with his mouth and fingers, would rather listen to the way his breathing starts and stops and holds, nowhere near the ragged disastrous edge but just this side of not quite normal, either.
Not that this is the best position, exactly. He can't really get hands on Steve the way he wants, like this, but there's something to be said for these small touches, when only their sides are touching and their hands are at the other's jaw, cheek, the nape of their neck. Intimate in a way that's nothing really like the times they're pressed flush to each other, like they're each trying to go straight through the other one. This is quieter. Calmer. Almost sweet, if that was a word Danny felt like might ever be used for Steve.
So he takes his time. Enjoys it. Forgets all about the movie in the background, the beer sweating lightly against his slacks. Everything there is except Steve and the slow warm press of his mouth.