It's just like Danny, to go from dirty talk to this, and Steve can barely smile, but somehow he manages one anyway, a thin, fond one against the curve of Danny's breast, rocking back and forth in a slow, deep rhythm, and then he sits up, sits back, pulls Danny up and hoists him into his lap, coaxing his shorter, smoother legs around his waist and letting him ride on top of him, fingers sliding through his hair.