Raylan wraps his hand around Tim’s neck like he wraps his hand around his glock.
Index finger extended straight along the side, tip brushing the tender spot behind his ear, like it would along the frame below the barrel. Palm solid across the back, across the grip, across the short hairs that raise themselves up on their ends. Thumb curling around, sliding down, back and forth, getting it right, solid, but not too hard.
Tim’s head is bent down and he’s breathing like he’s run a mile, or an alley in Kabul. He’s on his knees on the bed. Raylan’s got him held like a weapon. He’s hard as fuck.
“You can touch yourself,” Raylan murmurs.
He would shake his head if he could, if he wanted to move in the slightest. He doesn’t trust his voice.
“Your call,” Raylan tells him calmly. “You know what to do if you want to stop.”
Tim does. He doesn’t want that.
Raylan’s index finger moves now, sure, across the stubble at his jaw, across the underside, the frame, slips across the trigger, rests just above his adam’s apple, like it lives there.
no subject
Raylan wraps his hand around Tim’s neck like he wraps his hand around his glock.
Index finger extended straight along the side, tip brushing the tender spot behind his ear, like it would along the frame below the barrel. Palm solid across the back, across the grip, across the short hairs that raise themselves up on their ends. Thumb curling around, sliding down, back and forth, getting it right, solid, but not too hard.
Tim’s head is bent down and he’s breathing like he’s run a mile, or an alley in Kabul. He’s on his knees on the bed. Raylan’s got him held like a weapon. He’s hard as fuck.
“You can touch yourself,” Raylan murmurs.
He would shake his head if he could, if he wanted to move in the slightest. He doesn’t trust his voice.
“Your call,” Raylan tells him calmly. “You know what to do if you want to stop.”
Tim does. He doesn’t want that.
Raylan’s index finger moves now, sure, across the stubble at his jaw, across the underside, the frame, slips across the trigger, rests just above his adam’s apple, like it lives there.
He waits a beat, for the word that won’t come.
And slow, so so slow, he starts to squeeze.