He's not expecting Danny to graft to him suddenly with some kind of giddy desperation, leg behind his knees and hands carving up his back like it's tracks of land Danny can divide, conquer, claim, keep. Making him laugh, a little quiet-dark-warm sound gusting into Danny's mouth, when he's trying to find the remote still, and Danny is keeping him there, pulling him in, like quicksand.
Finger catching for purchase on the table, awkward balance, but not about to give up the fever with which Danny is kissing him. Like he's a last meal. Like he's everything. All the movement like a sudden storm shook loose, battering itself on his lips, his skin, the roll of Danny's hips, digging up into him, pushing lights and stars into the places where his head is still ringing. Driving want into looping, soaring, falling through the sky, relief. Setting it all on fire.
Shoving warmth and adrenaline, something dangerously like success, like liquid gold, into Steve's veins.
Fingers finally finding the remote and gesturing blindly toward the same space his tv has always been. Jamming the button half a dozen times, until there's silence suddenly louder than the dialogue that had been there. None of which holds a candle to Danny pulling back. Face flushed and so alive. So alive it makes Steve feel like someone's dosing him with high voltage electroshock. Except that he wants more of this.
"Yeah." Steve agreed. Mouth curving toward a unruly smirk, even when it takes his eyes a second to adjust from looking at the absolutely glorious smile finally caught up on Danny's mouth again. The light in his eyes. So much, so much more than second ago, when Danny was shuttered away, somewhere inside, somewhere he couldn't touch. Danny, under his fingers, looking right. Making him lightheaded with want, with relief, with the sparking of a plan.
Piece falling perfect into place, into an order, in a design, an understanding, a plan of attack. Even when he's prodding Danny, and pulling up, getting a handful of Danny's pants to tug him with, even when Steve's still half on top of him. "You seem to be failing this whole plan to get off the couch and out of here."
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Finger catching for purchase on the table, awkward balance, but not about to give up the fever with which Danny is kissing him. Like he's a last meal. Like he's everything. All the movement like a sudden storm shook loose, battering itself on his lips, his skin, the roll of Danny's hips, digging up into him, pushing lights and stars into the places where his head is still ringing. Driving want into looping, soaring, falling through the sky, relief. Setting it all on fire.
Shoving warmth and adrenaline, something dangerously like success, like liquid gold, into Steve's veins.
Fingers finally finding the remote and gesturing blindly toward the same space his tv has always been. Jamming the button half a dozen times, until there's silence suddenly louder than the dialogue that had been there. None of which holds a candle to Danny pulling back. Face flushed and so alive. So alive it makes Steve feel like someone's dosing him with high voltage electroshock. Except that he wants more of this.
"Yeah." Steve agreed. Mouth curving toward a unruly smirk, even when it takes his eyes a second to adjust from looking at the absolutely glorious smile finally caught up on Danny's mouth again. The light in his eyes. So much, so much more than second ago, when Danny was shuttered away, somewhere inside, somewhere he couldn't touch. Danny, under his fingers, looking right. Making him lightheaded with want, with relief, with the sparking of a plan.
Piece falling perfect into place, into an order, in a design, an understanding, a plan of attack. Even when he's prodding Danny, and pulling up, getting a handful of Danny's pants to tug him with, even when Steve's still half on top of him. "You seem to be failing this whole plan to get off the couch and out of here."