Not that it isn't still weird. Not that he doesn't still feel strange, loose in some places and tight in others, still messy, wanting a shower, wanting sleep, wanting to leave it alone and go back to nothing threatening, like necking on the couch for hours instead.
Except he doesn't want that. Not really. Because it doesn't actually matter, the way Steve looks, but the truth is Steve is impossible to resist. Impossible for Danny not to want to touch, to run his hands over hard muscle and softer than expected skin, rasp lips against stubble, taste Steve all the way down, salt and sweat and musk. Beautiful in a way Danny can't even comprehend, sometimes, because it's not like he always saw it, knew it was there. Sure. He knew Steve was good-looking. Got more than his fair share of female attention. But beautiful? Irresistible? Something Danny has to reach out and touch?
That's new. New-ish, anyway.
It's something else. Lots of things. He could spend hours listing them all, and never really get to the bottom of it. Not like Steve wants, with his how did it start and why and when. Like Danny could even have just one answer to that.
He doesn't know. It just is. Came upon him all sneaky and slow and then slammed him into the cement with the force of an 18-wheeler.
Okay. So maybe keeping it G-rated for a while won't be happening, and that's fine, too. It all is, if it ends up like this, with Steve here, arm looped around him, breathing soft and even into his hair, taunting him like they're in the car on a case and he's got nothing better to do. Making every knot loosen a little further with distraction, with each smile getting a little drowsier.
It's warm, and he's tired, and morning is going to come far too soon, even if it can't be that late, yet. "There you go, you only got half left to try and get."
Which is another lie. He wouldn't be here at all if it weren't already a hopeless cause.
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Not that it isn't still weird. Not that he doesn't still feel strange, loose in some places and tight in others, still messy, wanting a shower, wanting sleep, wanting to leave it alone and go back to nothing threatening, like necking on the couch for hours instead.
Except he doesn't want that. Not really. Because it doesn't actually matter, the way Steve looks, but the truth is Steve is impossible to resist. Impossible for Danny not to want to touch, to run his hands over hard muscle and softer than expected skin, rasp lips against stubble, taste Steve all the way down, salt and sweat and musk. Beautiful in a way Danny can't even comprehend, sometimes, because it's not like he always saw it, knew it was there. Sure. He knew Steve was good-looking. Got more than his fair share of female attention. But beautiful? Irresistible? Something Danny has to reach out and touch?
That's new. New-ish, anyway.
It's something else. Lots of things. He could spend hours listing them all, and never really get to the bottom of it. Not like Steve wants, with his how did it start and why and when. Like Danny could even have just one answer to that.
He doesn't know. It just is. Came upon him all sneaky and slow and then slammed him into the cement with the force of an 18-wheeler.
Okay. So maybe keeping it G-rated for a while won't be happening, and that's fine, too. It all is, if it ends up like this, with Steve here, arm looped around him, breathing soft and even into his hair, taunting him like they're in the car on a case and he's got nothing better to do. Making every knot loosen a little further with distraction, with each smile getting a little drowsier.
It's warm, and he's tired, and morning is going to come far too soon, even if it can't be that late, yet. "There you go, you only got half left to try and get."
Which is another lie. He wouldn't be here at all if it weren't already a hopeless cause.