God. God, fuck. That. That is perfect. That snaps something in his head, with the kind of relief that feels like a dam is crumbling like someone took the key stone and the whole wall is failing without a fight. When Danny's mouth opens under his, and his hands are suddenly sliding on Steve's skin, trying to touch his whole back. When it's like diving into the ocean, and having the waves wash right up at him, around him, everywhere. When Danny moves, and he feels like something in his chest is so overwhelmed its full stuffed with cotton.
Almost immobilizing him, even when he doesn't stop. With Danny still there. Not only the fingers carefully digging into his shoulder like that grip on a rock cliff. Not the careful touch of anything else, like the uncertainty the ground would still be there any next second. Not the perfect silence. Not his closed eyes. Not that that fraught stillness, from a man who is almost never still, never silent. Who literally surges to life under his mouth, like he's never stepped out, like he could never leave Steve alone in the fierce, uncontrollable all of this at his fingertips.
Literally. Had been at his fingertips. Crashing like waves on his lips. Making him disoriented, giddy, buoyed.
When all he wants for a moment is this. To kiss Danny and to feel Danny kissing him back. Fully engaged, involved, unafraid. Pulling Steve down at the same time as shoving into his space, into his chest and his face, the way Danny always has, since that very first day. Going toe to toe, dangerous and endlessly, heart always sloppy on his shoulder, so honest, so Good. So unwilling to give anything less than his all, demanding to be seen, recognized for all it, blinding Steve with it every day.
He wants that. All of this. Wants this in everything else. For Danny to be able to breathe, laugh, and spend his time lobbing insults at his head the whole way. Even if it won't, it might not. He doesn't know. But it's still here. It's still here, when he can't tell which of them is gulping this down like water after being dehydrated for days more. When Steve is more clear, more drive for the static shorting it all.
Even when he's letting go of his grip on Danny with the free hand not wrapped under him, and reaching out blindly. Searching on the edge of table for the god damn remote, without a single part of him that wants to let go of Danny's mouth or Danny's hands now that he's reclaimed them. Now that they aren't lost, and Danny isn't still. Doesn't want to let go of it, anymore than he could let go of the sea, or breathing.
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Almost immobilizing him, even when he doesn't stop. With Danny still there. Not only the fingers carefully digging into his shoulder like that grip on a rock cliff. Not the careful touch of anything else, like the uncertainty the ground would still be there any next second. Not the perfect silence. Not his closed eyes. Not that that fraught stillness, from a man who is almost never still, never silent. Who literally surges to life under his mouth, like he's never stepped out, like he could never leave Steve alone in the fierce, uncontrollable all of this at his fingertips.
Literally. Had been at his fingertips. Crashing like waves on his lips. Making him disoriented, giddy, buoyed.
When all he wants for a moment is this. To kiss Danny and to feel Danny kissing him back. Fully engaged, involved, unafraid. Pulling Steve down at the same time as shoving into his space, into his chest and his face, the way Danny always has, since that very first day. Going toe to toe, dangerous and endlessly, heart always sloppy on his shoulder, so honest, so Good. So unwilling to give anything less than his all, demanding to be seen, recognized for all it, blinding Steve with it every day.
He wants that. All of this. Wants this in everything else. For Danny to be able to breathe, laugh, and spend his time lobbing insults at his head the whole way. Even if it won't, it might not. He doesn't know. But it's still here. It's still here, when he can't tell which of them is gulping this down like water after being dehydrated for days more. When Steve is more clear, more drive for the static shorting it all.
Even when he's letting go of his grip on Danny with the free hand not wrapped under him, and reaching out blindly. Searching on the edge of table for the god damn remote, without a single part of him that wants to let go of Danny's mouth or Danny's hands now that he's reclaimed them. Now that they aren't lost, and Danny isn't still. Doesn't want to let go of it, anymore than he could let go of the sea, or breathing.