I have a theory about how Danny would kiss that space between Steve's pecs, move lower kiss by kiss, tease the hairs apart and lick at his skin, mouth at it a little so he can hear the hitch in Steve's breath, the way he's trying and failing to hide those small sounds at the back of his throat, the way he whimpers when Danny scrapes his teeth over one well-defined ab, his hand burrowing in Danny's hair and his nails scratching the back of Danny's neck a little until Danny hums contentedly into his skin.
Danny drags his cheek across the jut of Steve's hip, scrape of barely-there, evening stubble, making Steve hiss and laugh softly, murmuring, I hurt enough, okay? And Danny looks up, can't keep a thing off his face, looks gut-punched, and Steve says, hey, hey, c'mere, come on, and pulls him up, wraps himself around him, kisses him long and slow . . .
H/C ftw!! Obviously we're craving some, to project that onto the pic! IT IS DELICIOUS, THOUGH. Also, MY HEART CLENCHED JUST THERE. :')
And Danny sinks into it, remorseful and supplicating, feeling Steve's chest rise and fall beneath him, strong and sure, alive. He can't help the stroking, though; his hands are restless, they need to touch, to reassure himself that Steve is hale and whole and will live to drive him up the wall and make him tear his hair out in worry another day. He can't help the slow slide of their lips together, either, spit-slick and so painfully gentle, as Danny draws Steve's breath into his lungs, kisses him soft and sweet and grateful that he has this, that this is his to keep.
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AKLHFG;JFHG;F;LKJJ
OH GOD, PLEASE. *________*
I have a theory about how Danny would kiss that space between Steve's pecs, move lower kiss by kiss, tease the hairs apart and lick at his skin, mouth at it a little so he can hear the hitch in Steve's breath, the way he's trying and failing to hide those small sounds at the back of his throat, the way he whimpers when Danny scrapes his teeth over one well-defined ab, his hand burrowing in Danny's hair and his nails scratching the back of Danny's neck a little until Danny hums contentedly into his skin.
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CLEARLY we are jonesing for some tender, fond, maybe h/c-y moments. I'm gonna noodle :D :D :D :D
asdjfhlaksdhlakfhsdfsad licking at his skin *falls over*
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Danny drags his cheek across the jut of Steve's hip, scrape of barely-there, evening stubble, making Steve hiss and laugh softly, murmuring, I hurt enough, okay? And Danny looks up, can't keep a thing off his face, looks gut-punched, and Steve says, hey, hey, c'mere, come on, and pulls him up, wraps himself around him, kisses him long and slow . . .
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And Danny sinks into it, remorseful and supplicating, feeling Steve's chest rise and fall beneath him, strong and sure, alive. He can't help the stroking, though; his hands are restless, they need to touch, to reassure himself that Steve is hale and whole and will live to drive him up the wall and make him tear his hair out in worry another day. He can't help the slow slide of their lips together, either, spit-slick and so painfully gentle, as Danny draws Steve's breath into his lungs, kisses him soft and sweet and grateful that he has this, that this is his to keep.