There's half-rusted out groan carving it's way, bloody and dark, already on fire, from his throat before he even knows it's coming. When the world shifts from the endless, low-fire of Danny's skin and his hands, to lips dragging madness down his jaw. Against the underside of it. From him just tilting his head and pushing into the movement without a thought, to the second where his fingers dig into the muscle of Danny's thigh and ass.
To the moment where everything is sharp, hot, sparkling under Danny's mouth on that spot, because he's pulling, because there are suddenly teeth. Wet and hard against Steve's neck, making all of his body feeling like it's throbbing as one thing, surprised by a sudden jolt of lightning. Causing him to grind himself into Danny. His chest, his hips, him. Making his body sieze and shudder a handful of time, even when he's dragging Danny closer, into him, setting explosions off from firecrackers.
Hand sliding over and down and more in. Wanted, burning through him. Grafting across the cheeks of Danny's ass, thumb settled up the crease of that skin and fingertips stretched, in a rough, sudden cup around him. Pressing up on the place where they are slammed together, pushing fingers tips, possessively, against the smooth skin at his center, and the loose skin of his balls and the base of him, as the world burned against teeth, against want, against a desperate, wanted, courted dissolution.
Like there was a need to compress Danny there, flush and flat, touching everywhere, everything, never let him go.
When he wants to kiss Danny, wants to burn it down into his lungs, but he's already tipped his head. He's already pushing his neck still against Danny's mouth, words, voice, cheek, chin, head, even when it's like asking Danny to fry the rest of the wires, when he should care give a damn, tomorrow morning, but it's a long way away and Danny's mouth is here now. He wants it on his skin now.
"Is this your version of less talking, more action?," Steve is grating out, as sarcastic and buoyed by undoing as that undoing was unraveling his want to hold stil, say, think. Shorting his voice out somewhere into Danny's hair, stripping it from his insides like muscles ripping up from bones. Because the idea that Danny is still there, makes him want to fuck the rules, fuck Monday mornings, fuck waiting or asking or anything but up the ante for the reasons Danny is plastered against him.
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To the moment where everything is sharp, hot, sparkling under Danny's mouth on that spot, because he's pulling, because there are suddenly teeth. Wet and hard against Steve's neck, making all of his body feeling like it's throbbing as one thing, surprised by a sudden jolt of lightning. Causing him to grind himself into Danny. His chest, his hips, him. Making his body sieze and shudder a handful of time, even when he's dragging Danny closer, into him, setting explosions off from firecrackers.
Hand sliding over and down and more in. Wanted, burning through him. Grafting across the cheeks of Danny's ass, thumb settled up the crease of that skin and fingertips stretched, in a rough, sudden cup around him. Pressing up on the place where they are slammed together, pushing fingers tips, possessively, against the smooth skin at his center, and the loose skin of his balls and the base of him, as the world burned against teeth, against want, against a desperate, wanted, courted dissolution.
Like there was a need to compress Danny there, flush and flat, touching everywhere, everything, never let him go.
When he wants to kiss Danny, wants to burn it down into his lungs, but he's already tipped his head. He's already pushing his neck still against Danny's mouth, words, voice, cheek, chin, head, even when it's like asking Danny to fry the rest of the wires, when he should care give a damn, tomorrow morning, but it's a long way away and Danny's mouth is here now. He wants it on his skin now.
"Is this your version of less talking, more action?," Steve is grating out, as sarcastic and buoyed by undoing as that undoing was unraveling his want to hold stil, say, think. Shorting his voice out somewhere into Danny's hair, stripping it from his insides like muscles ripping up from bones. Because the idea that Danny is still there, makes him want to fuck the rules, fuck Monday mornings, fuck waiting or asking or anything but up the ante for the reasons Danny is plastered against him.