⠀ « the empty—handed pickpocket the opportunity to backtrack, the good samaritan his mama raised. “what’d you say, boy?” ⠀

⠀ built like an old fence post: solid, weathered, rooted in dirt. shoulders take the hit and give nothing back. he turns fast, boots scuffing, and looks down at the thing that bounced off him like a june bug off a windshield. giving » ⠀

⠀ « minutes. i’ll buy you somethin’ hot.” ⠀

⠀ « body dragged along with a palm splayed over back. he soaks the kisses up like a drought——head tipped, neck bare, a pleased rumble working out of his chest with every press of lips. “there’s a diner off the highway, ten » ⠀

⠀ “tellin’ fibs.” teeth sucked, scolding only to watch him pout. punishing nip of cheek fat / forgiving squeeze of waist, his wretched, sweet thing. soft like rot, spoiling on his tongue. “c’mon, baby.” already sitting up, steadying the » ⠀

⠀ « a good tug. they pass some time like that, reacquainting with the taste of each other’s mouths, before the rumble of a stomach has him drawing back. “y’hungry, doll?” ⠀

⠀ kisses tasting like tobacco and metal, all teeth and tongue. dog—like and delicious. a pleased rumble low in his chest, practically purring as he’s pressed down into the creaky mattress. catching lower lip betwixt dentin and giving it » ⠀