There’s a smudge of dirt along the side of Steve’s face that Danny takes his time with, rubbing his knuckles over the shape of Steve’s cheekbone and trying not to shake too bad. Steve is so fucking pliant, so zoned out and trusting, his hands resting gently at the back of Danny’s knees. He feels too vulnerable, and Steve is the one letting himself be touched like this.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, and lets out a shaky exhale when Steve just obeys.
“Don’t like the eyeliner?” Steve does ask, and Danny is so careful, edge of the cloth and not pushing too hard.
“Like it too much,” Danny admits, rueful. He’s not very good at this, doesn’t want to get soap in Steve’s eyes. Mostly he’s just smearing it around. But the mascara isn’t quite so heavy when Steve blinks his wet lashes open, and he looks a little bit more like Danny’s partner than some poor boy on the street.
It scares Danny thinking about Steve like that, Danny realizes with a jolt that makes him drop the washcloth on the table with a soggy plop and cup Steve’s face in his hands. He likes this Steve, he wants this Steve, crazy, punches-bad-guys-in-the-face Steve, drive-you-up-a-fucking-wall Steve. Steve’s hands slide up the vulnerable backs of Danny’s thighs and it’s comforting. Steve sits up straighter and his lips part like he’s reaching up for Danny to kiss him, and it’s dizzying. Steve licks his lips and Danny wants to set things on fire.
Danny has a hand clenched tight in Steve’s hair, right at the scalp, yanking him back in a tight bow over the high back of the chair before he knows he’s moving. His knee is shoved up tight between Steve’s legs, right against his cock, snug against the growing bulge of it as Steve gasps and grasps at Danny, still at the unprotected bend of his knees. He doesn’t fight him one inch, leans into every point of contact Danny has on him and moans soft and sweet when Danny does kiss him, hot, panting kisses because Steve drives Danny to absolute madness. He would never do this, Danny is a nice guy, but Steve just. He slams his fists against Danny’s buttons and Danny just has to keep him here, just a moment (minute, hour) longer and get some of his own back, lick into Steve’s mouth until he’s ruined for all other kisses.
He tastes like…salt water and island grit, smells like Steve except for this spot on his jaw that Danny didn’t get a chance to wash, where he smells like cheap cologne, where Wilson grabbed him. Danny growls even as he licks into Steve’s mouth, wants to take a sledgehammer to each of that shit heap’s fingers for the boys they couldn’t save before tonight, for touching Steve even though he’s the last person who needs saving. He might be saving Danny as they fall into each other, as Steve’s hands slide up to just under Danny’s ass and dig their black polished nails in through the thin fabric of Danny’s khakis.
Danny groans, and has to tear away just to breathe. Jesus fuck, the thought of those hands on him, the contrast of those nails and the reddened skin of-oh-Steve’s own cock as he jerks himself off, maybe works a finger into himself, two, pinked up asshole winking with black polished nails working in and out-Danny has to disentangle for a second, just to get his head on straight so he doesn’t cream all over the inside of his briefs.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, and lets out a shaky exhale when Steve just obeys.
“Don’t like the eyeliner?” Steve does ask, and Danny is so careful, edge of the cloth and not pushing too hard.
“Like it too much,” Danny admits, rueful. He’s not very good at this, doesn’t want to get soap in Steve’s eyes. Mostly he’s just smearing it around. But the mascara isn’t quite so heavy when Steve blinks his wet lashes open, and he looks a little bit more like Danny’s partner than some poor boy on the street.
It scares Danny thinking about Steve like that, Danny realizes with a jolt that makes him drop the washcloth on the table with a soggy plop and cup Steve’s face in his hands. He likes this Steve, he wants this Steve, crazy, punches-bad-guys-in-the-face Steve, drive-you-up-a-fucking-wall Steve. Steve’s hands slide up the vulnerable backs of Danny’s thighs and it’s comforting. Steve sits up straighter and his lips part like he’s reaching up for Danny to kiss him, and it’s dizzying. Steve licks his lips and Danny wants to set things on fire.
Danny has a hand clenched tight in Steve’s hair, right at the scalp, yanking him back in a tight bow over the high back of the chair before he knows he’s moving. His knee is shoved up tight between Steve’s legs, right against his cock, snug against the growing bulge of it as Steve gasps and grasps at Danny, still at the unprotected bend of his knees. He doesn’t fight him one inch, leans into every point of contact Danny has on him and moans soft and sweet when Danny does kiss him, hot, panting kisses because Steve drives Danny to absolute madness. He would never do this, Danny is a nice guy, but Steve just. He slams his fists against Danny’s buttons and Danny just has to keep him here, just a moment (minute, hour) longer and get some of his own back, lick into Steve’s mouth until he’s ruined for all other kisses.
He tastes like…salt water and island grit, smells like Steve except for this spot on his jaw that Danny didn’t get a chance to wash, where he smells like cheap cologne, where Wilson grabbed him. Danny growls even as he licks into Steve’s mouth, wants to take a sledgehammer to each of that shit heap’s fingers for the boys they couldn’t save before tonight, for touching Steve even though he’s the last person who needs saving. He might be saving Danny as they fall into each other, as Steve’s hands slide up to just under Danny’s ass and dig their black polished nails in through the thin fabric of Danny’s khakis.
Danny groans, and has to tear away just to breathe. Jesus fuck, the thought of those hands on him, the contrast of those nails and the reddened skin of-oh-Steve’s own cock as he jerks himself off, maybe works a finger into himself, two, pinked up asshole winking with black polished nails working in and out-Danny has to disentangle for a second, just to get his head on straight so he doesn’t cream all over the inside of his briefs.
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