delicatale

He can't stop his mind from going there though. Can't stop picturing Steve lying on his bed, right in that spot where the light from the sunset turns the world golden, where he always lies, like some kind of lizard, soaking up the last of the sun to power him through the night. He's probably still shirtless from taking the picture of his back, and restless because he won't have taken his usual post-work swim. That's why he's calling, because if he can't swim he needs something else to take the edge off the day. Danny knows him, far too well it seems.

"You - I hate you. Fine. Tell me. What exactly gets you off, that I don't already know about."