Danny is trying to break him. Rip him open all along a vein of fire that feels like its getting everywhere. Gotten everywhere. Burning down everywhere that once existed in any other fashion before this. Before this wiped it out. Firm, soft lips and the rough drag of stubble and the way he feels his center twisting tight and knotting down.
Talking to him, while kissing his skin, while dragging it from his own neck. Sucking on his skin and making Steve's world feel like parts of it are shattering. Just because of this small touch. His mouth, and those hands. Pulling him pushing him, his head, when there's no fight. Danny is shoving him moving him, to do more, take more. Hand up his shirt, across the fragile skin at the small of his back. His side. His neck and his hair. Impossibly everywhere.
Trekking fire up his throat, biting at the muscle there and making him shake. Making him drop out Danny's name. Something like a warning for what he's asking for, prodding, poking, shattering all the walls around. But it's so bare, so base and the bottom of the barrel, everything he wants, everything that burns him alive at the center carefully trapped. But always there.
When none of this was supposed to be there either. Danny was supposed to be gone. He was going to be gone or pissed drunk at this point. Not here. Not having no understanding how the world flipped upside down. Doesn't understand when his breath is shuddering more in his chest that even making it from his lungs, up his throat to his mouth. Wasn't supposed to end up here. Not on top of Danny.
Not talking about sex, not thinking about flashes of every dirty, secret, fantasy born not of the last year, but of the last month. Of getting almost everything. All those touches, tastes, watching him when he falls back. Knowing to taste of Danny's skin, his cock, the span of his hips, the way he thrusts, slow from restraint and fast when control snaps. The way he shakes, writhes, drives glorious bruises in with his fingers and hands on Steve's own hips, the way he curls perfectly inside Steve's arms, how his own face fits against the back of Danny's neck or his shoulder.
The way he sounds when he's shattering, swearing, pleading Steve's name over.
Steve can piece it together like an op puzzle. Has. Hasn't tried. But he's only human.
And there is no one on the planet he's wanted as much as Danny is such a long time. Maybe ever.
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Talking to him, while kissing his skin, while dragging it from his own neck. Sucking on his skin and making Steve's world feel like parts of it are shattering. Just because of this small touch. His mouth, and those hands. Pulling him pushing him, his head, when there's no fight. Danny is shoving him moving him, to do more, take more. Hand up his shirt, across the fragile skin at the small of his back. His side. His neck and his hair. Impossibly everywhere.
Trekking fire up his throat, biting at the muscle there and making him shake. Making him drop out Danny's name. Something like a warning for what he's asking for, prodding, poking, shattering all the walls around. But it's so bare, so base and the bottom of the barrel, everything he wants, everything that burns him alive at the center carefully trapped. But always there.
When none of this was supposed to be there either. Danny was supposed to be gone. He was going to be gone or pissed drunk at this point. Not here. Not having no understanding how the world flipped upside down. Doesn't understand when his breath is shuddering more in his chest that even making it from his lungs, up his throat to his mouth. Wasn't supposed to end up here. Not on top of Danny.
Not talking about sex, not thinking about flashes of every dirty, secret, fantasy born not of the last year, but of the last month. Of getting almost everything. All those touches, tastes, watching him when he falls back. Knowing to taste of Danny's skin, his cock, the span of his hips, the way he thrusts, slow from restraint and fast when control snaps. The way he shakes, writhes, drives glorious bruises in with his fingers and hands on Steve's own hips, the way he curls perfectly inside Steve's arms, how his own face fits against the back of Danny's neck or his shoulder.
The way he sounds when he's shattering, swearing, pleading Steve's name over.
Steve can piece it together like an op puzzle. Has. Hasn't tried. But he's only human.
And there is no one on the planet he's wanted as much as Danny is such a long time. Maybe ever.