Well, yeah. There are plenty of times he'll shut up. This mouth of his gets a vacation in bed, because A. he's usually doing something better with it and B. he's still working on "there's a baby in the house, let's not wake her up and scar her for life."
And there are other times. When he's too preoccupied to even start, when he'd rather play something close to the chest, because he doesn't always need everyone he knows knowing about everything in his life, alright, no matter what Steve says or thinks or how annoying he can be in trying to wheedle out the problem, going into investigative, high-focus mode, like he thinks Danny's being blackmailed or something every time Danny doesn't tell him what's wrong.
But this is not one of those times. This is talking Steve into reality, out from under whatever umbrella of mission-ready focus he'd steeled himself for, because this should all be taken seriously, but that doesn't mean it should be taken seriously, and, really, Danny's warning sirens all go off blaring their unhappiness at him when Steve gets that narrowed concentrating look, like he's defusing a bomb.
Which is not to say that when he gets what he asks for -- a click of plastic and drops of slick liquid falling on his skin, and then, pressure, like before, except Steve doesn't stop, Steve keeps going -- he doesn't tense up.
But it's not like he's under sights of a firing line. It's confusion, uncertainty, bewilderment, muscles not sure what's happening, body trying to adjust, to give more room and take it away at the same time, and he's concentrating too hard on finding that space to really be able to tell if it feels good or not.
It doesn't feel bad. It feels weird. Strange. Pressure where he's not used to pressure. Clarifying for him exactly how tight he is, how new this is, and Steve's fingers are long and clever, but they're not exactly small, either, and this is just the tip.
But it's. It's not bad. Just new. And it's Steve, so, really, when has he ever not gone where Steve went? Next to North Korea, this is a cakewalk.
So he says the first thing that comes to mind, that ricochets off what Steve said downstairs, about what he wants, has wanted, will do, wants to do. "Make me."
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-01 06:56 pm (UTC)Well, yeah. There are plenty of times he'll shut up. This mouth of his gets a vacation in bed, because A. he's usually doing something better with it and B. he's still working on "there's a baby in the house, let's not wake her up and scar her for life."
And there are other times. When he's too preoccupied to even start, when he'd rather play something close to the chest, because he doesn't always need everyone he knows knowing about everything in his life, alright, no matter what Steve says or thinks or how annoying he can be in trying to wheedle out the problem, going into investigative, high-focus mode, like he thinks Danny's being blackmailed or something every time Danny doesn't tell him what's wrong.
But this is not one of those times. This is talking Steve into reality, out from under whatever umbrella of mission-ready focus he'd steeled himself for, because this should all be taken seriously, but that doesn't mean it should be taken seriously, and, really, Danny's warning sirens all go off blaring their unhappiness at him when Steve gets that narrowed concentrating look, like he's defusing a bomb.
Which is not to say that when he gets what he asks for -- a click of plastic and drops of slick liquid falling on his skin, and then, pressure, like before, except Steve doesn't stop, Steve keeps going -- he doesn't tense up.
But it's not like he's under sights of a firing line. It's confusion, uncertainty, bewilderment, muscles not sure what's happening, body trying to adjust, to give more room and take it away at the same time, and he's concentrating too hard on finding that space to really be able to tell if it feels good or not.
It doesn't feel bad. It feels weird. Strange. Pressure where he's not used to pressure. Clarifying for him exactly how tight he is, how new this is, and Steve's fingers are long and clever, but they're not exactly small, either, and this is just the tip.
But it's. It's not bad. Just new. And it's Steve, so, really, when has he ever not gone where Steve went? Next to North Korea, this is a cakewalk.
So he says the first thing that comes to mind, that ricochets off what Steve said downstairs, about what he wants, has wanted, will do, wants to do. "Make me."