There's something sickeningly smug layering itself over the incinerating fire tearing right back into his lungs, sharp and fast and blinding. Popping behind his eyes and in the muscles in his neck, reminding him of how close things could get, or be, if he let them, if he doesn't watch it. If Danny just keeps tilting up into him, against him, or he keeps thrusting into Danny. Listening to those words roll off his tongue, feeling those careful, no quite to and not quite not skittish, fingers testing his skin.
His voice at first flippant and tauntingly disgusted, before Danny contradicts himself with a tone Steve has locked in a specific box of recognition. A special, rare place, where he knows it's wrong, but his fingers are running lines into Danny's back the way Danny's running cracks in the foundation under his feet, under every thought doing this. Used only on specific people Danny really doesn't want anywhere near him.
Old friends, certain superiors, old not-quite-girlfriends. This acid spike that's curling his voice, and cutting his taunting, and, best or worst of all, making Steve rumble a laugh, half in his chest and half onto to Danny's lips, that's smug and too aware, shooting back. "You changed your mind, then?"
When he knows Danny hasn't. Or at least he's pretty sure he hasn't, given all this. But they aren't talking about that. Not when he's using Danny's flippant, sudden, sparking turn around tone as a springboard. Steve's pretty sure Danny's mind hasn't been changed at all, just that he doesn't exactly want the details of other people on top of it. Which, Steve can't actually argue, even when he's cruelly needling.
Which is why he doesn't leave it at that entirely. Because it's not entirely inconvenient, this setup Danny's given him.
Danny wrapped around him, over him, in a way that makes Steve drop his hand from Danny's side and his back to that leg swung over his. Finding the back of Danny's thigh and pulling him closer, pulling Danny's leg higher, pushing into the space under it, getting even closer. Narrow hips rocking a little shamelessly, into a more comfortable position, against the momentarily blinding image of both of Danny's legs both wrapped like this.
Higher. Tighter. Fighting to exist in the same space again. Fingers digging in against the heavy back, inside of Danny's thigh briefly.
Before he's running his palm up the back inside of it. Experimenting with the interestingly wide open space he'd not at all really counted on between Danny's legs given by the position. Even while he was baiting Danny onward, with this syrupy sarcastic lead, when he's capturing Danny's lips to kiss him and to keep poking at the same time. "Because this's just sadistic if you have."
Especially when Steve doesn't sound in the slightest honest, or worried, or like he gives care. Isn't soaking it up like sunshine in the middle of a Saturday afternoon when naps just slam you over with the Aloha feeling of not needing to be anywhere, doing anything but lapping up the sun and the breeze and the shade and the sea.
Like he absolutely loves it every single time Danny turns into a short-sighted, raving idiot due to jealousy.
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His voice at first flippant and tauntingly disgusted, before Danny contradicts himself with a tone Steve has locked in a specific box of recognition. A special, rare place, where he knows it's wrong, but his fingers are running lines into Danny's back the way Danny's running cracks in the foundation under his feet, under every thought doing this. Used only on specific people Danny really doesn't want anywhere near him.
Old friends, certain superiors, old not-quite-girlfriends. This acid spike that's curling his voice, and cutting his taunting, and, best or worst of all, making Steve rumble a laugh, half in his chest and half onto to Danny's lips, that's smug and too aware, shooting back. "You changed your mind, then?"
When he knows Danny hasn't. Or at least he's pretty sure he hasn't, given all this. But they aren't talking about that. Not when he's using Danny's flippant, sudden, sparking turn around tone as a springboard. Steve's pretty sure Danny's mind hasn't been changed at all, just that he doesn't exactly want the details of other people on top of it. Which, Steve can't actually argue, even when he's cruelly needling.
Which is why he doesn't leave it at that entirely. Because it's not entirely inconvenient, this setup Danny's given him.
Danny wrapped around him, over him, in a way that makes Steve drop his hand from Danny's side and his back to that leg swung over his. Finding the back of Danny's thigh and pulling him closer, pulling Danny's leg higher, pushing into the space under it, getting even closer. Narrow hips rocking a little shamelessly, into a more comfortable position, against the momentarily blinding image of both of Danny's legs both wrapped like this.
Higher. Tighter. Fighting to exist in the same space again. Fingers digging in against the heavy back, inside of Danny's thigh briefly.
Before he's running his palm up the back inside of it. Experimenting with the interestingly wide open space he'd not at all really counted on between Danny's legs given by the position. Even while he was baiting Danny onward, with this syrupy sarcastic lead, when he's capturing Danny's lips to kiss him and to keep poking at the same time. "Because this's just sadistic if you have."
Especially when Steve doesn't sound in the slightest honest, or worried, or like he gives care. Isn't soaking it up like sunshine in the middle of a Saturday afternoon when naps just slam you over with the Aloha feeling of not needing to be anywhere, doing anything but lapping up the sun and the breeze and the shade and the sea.
Like he absolutely loves it every single time Danny turns into a short-sighted, raving idiot due to jealousy.