[ the joint is a joke, and gator can see it as eddie hands it over. he leans forward, plucking it with attitude, his gaze not leaving eddie's for a solid moment. he then looks at it, rolls his eyes, a sigh escaping his nose as he opens it, re-rolls it, then licks and twists. ]
You're a fuckin' shitty joint-roller, you know that? Or were you just tryin' to fuck with me?
[ oh, it's tempting. the idea that flashes through gator's mind - reaching forward and grabbing eddie by the throat. the lick of violence is soon subsided as gator pulls a lighter from his pocket and sparks said joint. he takes a deep drag, no coughing, the smoke lilting from his lips. he nods, jerking his head, offering the joint to eddie. ]
Don't make me do this shit by myself.
[ strained, he exhales, a healthy dose of smoke exiting his lungs. he wiggles the joint between his fingers for eddie to take, impatient. if eddie has to be the one babysitting gator tillman, he shouldn't be doing it sober. ]
Well, now youāre just hurting my feelings, deputy. Why would I ever do an awful, dishonest thing like that? And to law enforcement no less.
[ He clutches a hand to his chest, eyes even wider than the norm as he feigns innocence and hurt. It might actually work on someone who hasnāt known him for longer than fifteen minutes, but those big brown eyes wonāt fool anyone for long. Eddie Munson is anything but innocent, and the fact that he can hardly stop himself from grinning in amusement as Gator rerolls the joint is a sure sign that he is absolutely the type to roll a shitty joint on purpose. Especially to law enforcement.
It doesnāt take him long to drop the act, though. He drops onto the shitty couch beside his impatient house guest, resisting the urge to get into his space and take up as much room as humanly possible just to be a nuisance. ]
Are you asking me to hold your hand? And here I thought you were a big boy. But, if you insistā¦
[ He plucks the joint from Gatorās hand, and immediately sort of regrets under-packing it now that heās partaking too. Itās fine. The wad of cash in his pocket says he owes this guy any amount of weed he wants for the time being. ]
Iām kind of impressed, actually. Not even a cough. Bravo.
Don't be a fuckhead. You did it on purpose, but I'm lettin' it slide. This time.
[ brows raise, skeptical expression painted, head tilting as he shoots eddie a look. dangerous as that is, he watches him under dark lashes as eddie takes the joint. he sucks in the last of the smoke, then lets it blow from his parted lips. ]
What, you gonna turn down a little weed? You afraid I'll get too high or somethin'?
[ gator purses his lips, eddie a little too close for comfort, but gator leans back against the worn headrest, closing his eyes. he's not buzzed, not yet, but the smell and the inhale in his lungs - strong shit, and gator grins slowly. he opens his eyes, turning with his head still against the couch. ]
Hurry up and give that shit back.
[ he raises his fingers, wiggling them playfully. ]
[ Thereās that feigned innocence again as Eddie shoots him a look of his own, doe-eyed an even-toned, but there actually might be a glimmer of truth behind his words this time. Heās well aware that the man on the couch beside him is dangerous, extremely volatile and in a position that allows him to call Eddie out on his illegal shit at any point in time that he may grow irritated enough to do so. ]
You might actually loosen up and become a pleasant person to be around. And if that happens? Well, goddamn, youād be totally rewriting every opinion Iāve ever formed of you. And we canāt go doing that now, can we?
[ But of course, Eddie canāt help but crack a joke, coasting only on the comfort of the fact that being the keeper of the drugs kind of gives him just enough of an upper hand to be a little shit for awhile. ]
Hey, hey, hey. Hold your horses.
[ He leans out of reach to take another slow puff on the joint. Just to waste time. Just to be annoying. It wonāt matter in the end. He has another, much better one already rolled and ready to go. ]
This is you being nice, huh? I know weāve already established that Iām definitely special, but, uhā¦tell me.
[ He tilts his head, grinning. ]
Are all the other local criminals this lucky? Or just me?
[ gator's gaze washes over eddie's face, the faux-innocence. he blinks slow, knowing and well aware that he's fucking with him. terrified. gator turns his eyeline away from eddie, stiffening his spine before he sits up a bit. he takes off his ballcap, tossing it to the worn chair near them.
he's more relaxed than he's been all day, but who knew it'd be at the hands of the munson burnout. he's a criminal with a nothing future, and gator knows that one day, just one day, he won't have him to protect and serve. cuffs are going to be on this boy at some point. gator licks his lips, they're dry, fat tongue still damp with it. he almost laments that eddie lives like this, but that doesn't last long. no feeling does but the ache for more. ]
You should be fuckin' terrified, but you ain't, are you? I'm pleasant as fuckin' punch, sweetheart, but if you got a problem with my presence, say the word.
[ eyebrows jump, so does his hands, mouth pulling down in an overreacting frown. it's then that gator snatches the joint after eddie's slow, deliberate movements. gator sticks out his tongue, pulling a face, before he tokes on the joint. he inhales, stickiness in his lungs, but no coughing once again. another pull, then another. that's when the ton of bricks comes falling. he's high, so high. he glances over to catch eddie grinning at him, and gator smirks slow. ]
Maybe it's 'cause you're so fuckin' stupid.
[ he smiles, then pushes eddie back against the cushion. he holds his hand over his chest, eyes glittering. ]
Or maybe it's 'cause I think you're kinda -
[ there it is, the cough. it rolls out of gator in a wave, and he laughs, smoke thick between them as he leans his head back. ]
[ Eddie can see when the weed works its magic. Itās a visible change, and it happens fast. Movements slow, grow a little more languid, speech isnāt quite so snappy. Eddie is almost impressed.
He opens his mouth to make another smartass quipāsomething about his level of intelligence and how it didnāt hurt from the teachers in his life, therefore itās not going to hurt from law enforcement who, for the record, is just as stupid as he is if heās not expecting to be drug testedā
But it all dies on his tongue. The warm hand pressing against his chest is enough to stupefy him into silence for once in his life, however briefly. His eyes widen, his heart thumps, and he struggles to find a responseā¦and then comes the cough, Eddie laughs, and the spell is broken. But heās not quite ready to move on yet. ]
Well, donāt leave me hanging, big man. Kind ofā¦what?
[ Maybe he was wrong to call Gator uninteresting when heās high. This is a very interesting turn of events. He sits up and once again, crowds the already shrinking space between them. ]
Intriguing? Annoying as shit? Oddly charming and charismatic? Or, my absolute favorite, in league with the devil?
[ And thereās that stupid grin again, eyes bright as if heās almost daring him to respond honestly.]
All of the above is acceptable as well.
Edited (me when i rush out a tag and also suck at spelling...) 2025-10-17 01:39 (UTC)
[ in league with the devil. that makes gator laugh between his coughs, handing the joint back to eddie to kill off. he's stoned, completely and utterly, the strength of the weed slowly melting him from head to toe. he rubs his dry eyes with the palms of his hands, then glances over at eddie, realizing that he actually does want an answer.
this is dangerous. gator inwardly kicks himself, mouth curling from grin to grimace. he turns his head away, hand at eddie's chest long-since forgotten. he sighs, leaning back against the sofa. he looks over at eddie, those big, bright eyes. he's too close. gator's mouth slides into a sneer, and he leans forward, daring eddie to lean in. he looks his face over, gaze from his eyes to his nose, his mouth. ]
I think you're fuckin' annoyin'.
[ that doesn't stop the churning disgust at himself, the slow licking of his lips speaking it all for him as he decides against it. for now. he moves himself out of eddie's web, knowing the sticky fronds of weed will lead him there eventually. maybe. probably. who knows? gator blinks, and the temptation is so there. he can't help himself, and it rolls off of his wet tongue. ]
I think you're kinda cute, for a fuckin' drug dealer. You know I should take your sorry ass in for that alone. Look at you. Fuckin' danger to yourself.
[ gator closes his eyes for a moment, a rush and another ton of bricks hits him. he's beyond stoned, and he lays his hand on eddie's bent knee. ]
[ Eddie chuckles as he takes the joint off of his hands, more than happy to polish the pathetic thing off. Heās built up a higher tolerance over the years, but that doesnāt mean that he isnāt feeling it. Heās just better at pretending like he doesnāt, and his baseline personality already being flighty and impulsive certainly helps. Heās all too conscious of the fact that he would be halfway across the room already, overthinking and anxious, if that little joint hadnāt worked some kind of magic and inspired a little bravery.
Eddie offers an amused look at the confirmation that, not only is he annoying, but fucking annoying, but says nothing. He merely takes one last drag of the ember burning between his fingers and, in one smooth movement, blows out a column of smoke, and then leans over to stub out the cinders in the overflowing ashtrayāright across Gator. Obnoxious, suffocating, entirely too close, like personal space is merely a suggestion.
And then, there it is. Thereās a long pause, heart beating in his ears as he contemplates that reveal. Despite all his constant teasing, poking and prodding, Eddie was never really sure if he expected it to lead anywhere other than two black eyes.
Now itās Eddie who needs to put some space between them. Finally, he snorts and stands, letting the hand fall from his knee. ]
Yeah? And how are you gonna spin that paperwork?
[ Thereās another sly smile just before he breaks off to collect the second joint and beer. His voice comes muffled from the depths of the kitchen: ]
You know, that stupid hat does you no favors, but, uhā¦
[ He hesitates, running his tongue over his teeth, almost loathing himself for what heās about to say. But heās feeling bold, and this is probably going to remain as nothing but a very foggy memory by the time all of this wears off. ]
Despite your own line of employment? Yeah, youāre not so bad yourself.
[ gator's glazed-over gaze follows eddie's form into the kitchen, watches him get the beer. you're not so bad yourself. that registers somewhere deep inside with a panic switch, but it's so planted that the weed is making it hard to reach the surface. alarm bells should be going off, but they aren't. he blinks slow, still watching, head tilted against the back of the sofa. he's fucked up, but he's not going to admit it. beer will set him right. ]
My hat ain't stupid. I know how I look.
[ he smiles despite this, then pushes himself to sit up. he fails once, but then finds his balance, a short laugh escaping. it's not a rare sight, gator laughing, but it's the tone of it that's the thing. he's usually cruel, mean, sinister laughter in the dark. a whistle from his lips and a tire iron against the head. boots, fists. this isn't like that, this is different, as gator is laughing in a way that's light, almost airy. almost. ]
Hurry back here. I'm thirsty. I need somethin' to drink.
[ and he is, the weed parching the inside of his mouth. he finally tears his stare from eddie to the various drugs he has in his open lunchbox. ketamine sounds tempting, but this isn't just some fun party. this is eddie fucking munson, and gator's already called him cute. there are the bells, the sirens, and gator clears his throat. he isn't sober, not a sliver, but he's mildly paranoid. it'll be fine when he's crossfaded. that'll be better. that'll... balance. ]
My line of employment is fuckin' important, my feelin's don't really matter.
[ Pretty sure thatās what someone who wears a stupid hat would say, he thinks as he vaguely considering tossing the hat out the window given the opportunity. Gator is already so high, he probably wouldnāt even notice. That might be a mission for future Eddie.
But for now? That laugh is what stops him dead in his tracks.
It feelsā¦sort of wrong, and not because itās particularly chilling. Itās wrong because it lacks malice, lacks cruelty, and is somehow shockinglyā¦normal? Eddie has heard Gator laugh before, but it was never quite like this. This feels almostā¦wrong, sheerly because of how normal it is. It isnāt paired with the sound of violence, and thereās no malice, no cruelty, no dripping dark ferocity. This is unburdened, almost carefree, and itās not an unpleasant sight or sound.
Finally, Eddie shakes it off, but he canāt help but think that this man should have taken up smoking years ago. Maybe heād be at least slightly better adjusted. ]
My feelinās donāt really matter.
[ He echoes in a damn good impersonation, unceremoniously shoving a beer in Gatorās direction as he flops back onto the couch with the second joint already lit and between his lips. Itās much less pitiful compared to the previous one, with some actual effort put into it. ]
So, uh, what do you call the level of pissed you get when I call you officer, then? Is that a feeling or...just a really nasty involuntary bodily response? Demonic possession?
[ One canāt coast on a built up tolerance forever, and as Eddie blow out a column of smoke, it becomes abundantly clear that itās really starting to hit him now. That familiar heavy feeling begins to sink in, like heās swimming through syrup. Itās not unpleasant by any means, but with increasingly heavy limbs, shrugging his jacket off turns into a mighty effort. With the out of the way, he lets his head fall back against the headrest with a low chuckle, eyes half-lidded now. ]
And by the way? You should laugh more often. Like, a real laugh. Looks good on you.
[ gator's brows furrow low when eddie does his impersonation, a scowl forming on his lips. he knows he's being teased, and while normally he'd sock eddie in the jaw for it - now, he doesn't. he can't. he's too busy feeling the effects of the weed, the way the cold beer sinks into his hand. gator lifts the can, taking a generous gulp, swallowing the mild carbonation down. he sighs, satisfied, looking over at eddie and grinning. that's what he needed - cold, balancing. good, better. gator tilts his head. ]
They don't.
[ without abandon to hold him back, gator stares as eddie removes his jacket. he shrugs it off, leather falling against the worn cushions. he's transfixed, taking the joint from eddie's fingers to take a long inhale. he blows the smoke out in a ring, then blows through it. he hands the joint to eddie, then sits up a bit, fucked beyond all recognition. he licks his lips, then another long guzzle of beer. ]
'Cause I ain't an officer anymore. I'm a fuckin' deputy. I don't like it is all.
[ more beer, and the can is finished. he holds it between his legs, cammo-adorned and open. he's relaxed, more than anything he's felt in a while. when eddie compliments his fucking laugh, though, gator still feels pinpricks of panic. ]
[ Eddie just canāt help himself. He throws his head back and erupts in a howl of laughter, like Gator has just told him the most hysterical joke of all time. He struggles for composure, but it takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to calm down enough to explain. Wiping tears from his eyes, he continues: ]
Every other comment Iāve made tonight is enough to risk you kicking my ass or turning me in. But you think that I think a complimentānot even a particularly groveling oneāis gonna change that? I was wrong about you, man. Youāre fascinating.
[ His shoulders shake and he covers his face with a hand, threatening a second wave of laughter. He genuinely doesnāt mean it to be cruel or mocking, but the fact that Gator thinks this is what Eddie is under the impression is going to save him is truly hystericalāand would be regardless of the amount of marijuana in his system. If he wanted to play it safe, he wouldnāt poke so much. He would do better feigning innocence. He wouldnāt be sitting on his own couch with an officerādeputy. ]
Jesus Christ. I canāt be the first person to say something nice to you.
[ Or maybe he could. Thereās a lot to be said about Gatorās personality, even if the vessel it comes in is, unfortunately, kind of handsome. Eddie shakes his head and snorts, finally offering up the joint after that display of nonsense.
Then comes aināt nothinā about me that you want, an all Eddie can do is shrug noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying. There is a lot that he dislikes about this man. He could write entire list and still add more on a bad day. And yetā¦ ]
[ gator's lip curls as he's called dude, but he lets it go. he's not eddie's dude. he's not eddie's, well, anything. maybe gator's getting too comfortable around this burnout, maybe he's getting too fucked up. he opens his mouth to say it, to tell eddie that he can't, that he has to go - but he's aware that he can't drive like this, even down the rocky pull-off out of here. he licks his lips again, silenced. eddie's still talking, laughing, and gator's eyes are fixed on eddie's own. fascinating. ]
You think you got the right to say somethin' like that?
[ he's not argumentative. far from it. gator's brows contract, and he's confused. fascinating. he knows what it means, but he's never particularly thought that about himself... or anyone, for that matter. but right now, in this moment, eddie is the most interesting thing he's ever seen. his gaze travels eddie's face, and gator snatches the joint back. he knows he shouldn't, but he inhales deep and blows it into the air between them. ]
Maybe you are.
[ untrue, but he has to admit that he kind of likes the attention. it's more than he ever got growing up under roy tillman's boot on his throat. useless, stupid. that's what he's more inclined to hear. puke pile. gator doesn't think of that, he can't, and he finishes the joint all by himself simply to be an asshole. simply to be unpleasant. he hands eddie the roach of it, tilting his head with a smile. ]
How's that for fascinatin', huh?
[ then that - you sound pretty sure of yourself catches him off-guard. what the hell is he supposed to say to that? gator inwardly panics, and then the effects hit like a train. he leans against the cushions again, turned to eddie, watching him. ]
[ Now, that is fascinating, and, damn Eddieās empathy, but quite sad as well. He doesnāt allow it to pull at his heartstrings too hard, but he acknowledges it for what it is: a chip in the violent, asshole exterior, revealingā¦something beneath. Heās not quite sure what it is yet, but he knows that people usually donāt get to be like Gator Tillman unless something fucked them up along the way.
Usually. There are always exceptions. The asshole on his couch right now did just finish the entire joint off by himself which doesnāt exactly endear him to Eddie. But all the same...]
Iām actually pretty sure I have the right to say anything I want. Deputy.
[ And thereās that incessant grin again as he tilts his head, holding the other's gaze unblinkingly as he yet again reaches over him to stub out what remains of that joint. ]
And Iām also pretty sure I never shut up, so, uh, the chances of me saying something else equally nice before you leave or, more likely, pass out? Extremely high.
[ In a way, it just might be a threat. He notices that his guest very pointedly avoids that last statement (which is equally fascinating), and Eddie is willing to leave that alone for now, but he canāt promise things wonāt loop back around. Heās never balked at the opportunity to make people uncomfortable anyway, particularly this person.
Then heās asked to put some music on, and he tips his head back, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he groans dramatically. Itās as if heās just been asked to take a hike across the Sahara rather than three steps across the room. He feels too heavy and too sluggish and weighed down to make the trek. ]
You couldnāt have asked five minutes ago? Jesus Christ.
[ But he forces himself up regardless, and although those three steps feel like miles, he manages, cursing himself in the back of his cloudy mind for giving in to these demands at all.
He digs out a record (old school, always, why mess with a good thing?), sets it onto the turntable, and drops the needle. The standard Munson fare begins to crackle out of the speakersāsomething heavy on the guitar and overlaid with raw vocals. He makes a show out of turning it down to a respectable level as well, turning to look right at Gator as he gives an exaggerated twist of the dialā¦then readjusts it and turns it back up a notch or two. His reputation, no matter how much itās been twisted by the public, simply wonāt allow him be too respectable. ]
Once I sit back down, Iām not getting up again, so you may as well make any and all requests now.
[ deputy. then eddie stares at him, glittering eyes all lit up from the weed, and he leans over gator's lap. gator doesn't gasp, but he does make a small sound that might just give him away. an inhale through his teeth. he has two urges, and they both duke it out in the back of his mind: one, grab eddie and throw him off, back, away from him like the thing he is, and two, to slide his tongue in his mouth and kiss him like only a man can. he doesn't do either, no, he merely smiles slow, as if he's giving eddie this chance. when he leans away, though, gator catches eddie's gaze again and holds it, tilting his head. ]
Is that so? You gonna sweet-talk me?
[ there go the inhibitions. they melt down into his shoes, just like the rest of him, and he plants himself haphazardly on the couch now. he rips his vape from his outer thigh pocket and takes a pull of it, sour watermelon filling the air. the nicotine will put him right, okay? that makes sense. it'll keep the flush from his cheeks from being too obvious. it's the weed, it makes him... warm. ]
Jesus Christ!
[ it's mocking, but playful, and he watches eddie struggle off of the couch to put something on. he notes how he bends over, the sliver of skin that exposes itself between jeans and t-shirt. gator licks his lips slow, then takes another drag from the vape. he blows the smoke upward, but when the tune starts, he closes his eyes. that's what he wants, to simply exist here. he taps the beat with his fingertips against his knee, and he's close to smiling, a smirk edging itself across the expanse of his mouth. his dark lashes open, and he stares at eddie, really stares at him. he crooks his finger. ]
[ Eddie can only chuckle, because he isnāt deaf. He catches that little noise and when he pulls back, he holds his gaze for a moment. Just the span of two heartbeats, head tilted and a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Heās well aware that a wave has been rolling in over the course of his evening and eventually, itās going to have to crash. Itās just inevitable. Whether itās going to result in Gatorās hand around his throat or something more pleasant, he has no way of knowing yet. It could go either way, really.
But he doesnāt linger. He heads over to put the music on and doesnāt look back until Gator mocks him. He rolls his eyes dramatically over his shoulder, but silently concedes that he probably deserves a taste of his own medicine. ]
Led Zeppelin.
[ He echoes with a laugh and a shake of his head. Now that is a request heās more than happy to oblige. The current record is removed and returned to its sleeve, and a battered Zeppelin album is selected. ]
Youāre a man of far better taste than I suspected, Tillman. Color me surprised.
[ The space between them grows suspiciously smaller when Eddie returns to the battered couch. Now theyāre close enough that Eddie can knock his knee against Gatorās, and does, just because he can. He says nothing, just lets his eyes drift shut for the briefest of moments while the sweet sounds of Jimmy Pageās guitar fill his ears and the scent of watermelon assaults his senses. He considers complaining, considers telling him that flavored nicotine isnāt going to save his lungs any more than the cheap filter cigarettes Eddie smokes, but he not feeling it. That trek took a lot out of him and just might have softened his bite a bit.
He tips his head to the side, eyes fluttering open again, and stares silently for a beat, two, then reaches over to further bridge whatever space remains between them. Without allowing himself a moment to think (or rather overthink), he lets his fingers skate idly over the collar of the other manās jacket, so close to skin to skin contact, but not quite there. ]
You know, I was under the impression I already was. Sweet-talking you, I mean.
[ That wave has to crash eventually, and Eddie may as well help it along. Itās stupid, heāll probably regret it later, but thatās the effect weed so often has. Right now, heās willing tot take the risk, just to see what all of this is accumulating to. ]
[ if it keeps on rainin', levee's going to break. gator doesn't know how close he is to breaking, to flooding, for the warm water of eddie's touch to drown him in something akin to a wild-eyed, wild-haired hurricane. he's disoriented by it, the knee, the knock, the fingers so fucking close that gator takes in a breath, not realizing he's been holding it. he stares at eddie, dark gaze to dark gaze, before he swallows. he knows what's happening, and he knows he likes it. he's overstepped, eddie's overstepped, and now here they are. gator licks his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. cryin' won't help you, prayin' won't do you no good. ]
Then keep doin' it.
[ he reaches up, slow and delayed, the weed pumping through him enough to stop the rattle-shot his heart would normally be without it. he places his hand on eddie's thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth. lazy, unbothered. he's already past wanting to kill him, but if he says something stupid, well, that could change. but now, in this moment, in the waves of the music and the warmth of the trailer - gator keeps his gaze fixed on eddie until he smiles. molasses, poured right out of a jar. ]
You might just get fucked.
[ his eyes light up, but they're near-black with how blown his irises are. he leans his head against the back of the couch, hand raising. he pauses just above eddie's zipper, then pulls away, shrugging out of his jacket. the kevlar is next, and then it's just a black t-shirt before his skin. he knows that this is wrong, yeah, but so is everything else in this podunk fucking town. nothing's been right since he moved here, but this feels better. right. who the fuck cares? ]
Unless you want dinner first. You that kinda girl? Like to be wined and dined before you're sixty-nined?
[ A line has definitely been crossed, but neither one of them seems interested in trying to take a step back before this goes too far. Itās not possible anyway. Doped up or not, they both have to know in the back of their minds that itās just a little too late for that. Canāt go back, canāt undo, canāt pretend like this isnāt happening. Canāt pretend like he doesnāt want it to.
And just like Gator, Eddie has landed on āwho the fuck caresā. This town would hate him even if he were the most upstanding of upstanding citizens. What he does or how he behaves really doesnāt matter when itās always going to end the same way. Besides, If he cared, truly cared, he could have ended this two joints and a beer ago. He could have ended it before the door was even opened.
But he didnāt, and now this is where theyāve landed. Quite the jump from the start of the evening. ]
Wow, just outright assuming Iād let you, huh? Thatās bold.
[ As if it does any good to play coy now. Heās doing an awful job backing it up, anyway. He may chuckle, but itās not enough to hide the fact that the hand on his thigh has his head spinning and his heart pounding like a drum. Or the frustrated, disappointed huff he canāt help but make when the hand is pulled away. Embarrassing and pitiful, really, but he can and will easily blame it on the fact that heās high as a kite. An easy excuse right at his fingertips. ]
I really donāt think youāre that much of a gentleman, if Iām being perfectly honest.
[ He tilts his head and studies him for a moment without all those layers. Eddie has had a difficult time seeing Gator as anything other than just another cop, something thatās already shifted quite a bit this evening, but seeing him without the kevlar really seals it. Not that heās aiming for anything close to an emotional connection here, but seeing him as a real person? Kind of a nice change. He almost reminds him of someone. Almost.
He doesnāt let himself dwell on it, though. That could be dangerou. Instead, he reaches out yet again, works his fingers into the thin fabric of the t-shirt and tugs, urging him in closer. ]
But, uh, Iām also pretty sure Iām not like any kind of girl youāve ever met, so I think Iāll manage, sweetheart.
[ that little frustrated huff is enough for gator to jump against his inseam, and he wants more of it. when eddie claims that gator's no gentleman, he laughs, squeezing, so gentle that eddie may not even feel it. he massages just as slow, a low hum escaping his lips at the feeling of it, the soft weight. his eyes flick from eddie's crotch to his eyes, dangerous, but a smile still prevails. he knows that he wants this, knows that he wants eddie, and that he's making it more than obvious. a flick of his thumb over what gator knows is the head, the slit still covered in black denim. ]
Go on, you don't know I ain't a gentleman, do you?
[ soft, a whisper, gravel and home-grown grit. gator grins again, being tugged by eddie by his t-shirt, being pulled. he likes it, likes knowing that eddie? is right there with him. he breaks the distance, his mouth covering eddie's as he kisses him, slow, stoned, deep. his eyes flutter closed, hand still resting against eddie's dick as he picks up his massaging. he wants him hard, begging, so full of gator that he can't walk. this isn't what gator expected pulling up - he thought he'd get enough and go home, collapse, jerk off thinking of something like this, then fall asleep. that's as far as he's ever gotten around eddie munson and said tight jeans. ]
I could take you out to a nice fuckin' dinner, let you meet my goddamn daddy, ride you around and pretend you're mine, but that ain't what you want, and that ain't what I want, now is it, huh?
[ against eddie's ear, gator's hot breath coming out in aroused huffs as he touches eddie, unzips him, reaches inside - he groans, wrapping his hand around him and giving a healthy stroke. ]
[ Eddie isnāt expecting it, lulled into a false sense of apathy by the slow, steady touch that doesnāt seem to be heading anywhere in particular, barely harder than a breath against his thigh. Until heās proven wrong. ]
Jesus fucking Christā
[ He gasps and jolts, his hips arching away from the couch as if a current of electricityās been shot through him. He hisses and releases his grip on the fabric of the t-shirt, scrambling to find purchase in something a bit more solidānamely, Gatorās shoulders, nails digging right through the t-shirt and into flesh. He doesnāt mean it to hurt, but he doesnāt particularly care if it does. Heās already well on his way to coming totally undone, and theyāve only just begun.
He doesnāt beg, but thereās a sort of desperation there regardless, like he can count on one hand the amount of times heās been touched like this by another person. For all his teasing, he is woefully inexperienced, and it shows. Itās always been the wrong place, wrong people, no timeā¦Does that make Gator Tillman the right person? Apparently it does, at least tonight.
Besides, what he lacks in experience, he makes up for it with enthusiasm and an almost wildly unpracticed edge, surging forward to meet the kiss with more teeth than most people would find particularly enjoyable. ]
Like you would risk anyone knowing about this.
[ He just barely manages to huff out a laugh before heās thrown once more, a groan pulled from his throat. That doesnāt mean heās at a loss for words, though. Shutting up Eddie Munson is a nearly impossible feat, and he proceeds to hiss out a stream of expletives, just about every filthy word in the English language tumbling from his lips as he arches against Gatorās hand, chasing the feeling of pleasure. ]
Once isnāt gonna be enough, though, you know.
[ He reaches up to tangle his fingers into the other manās hair, giving an experimental tug just to see what happens. He stares, pupils blown so wide that his eyes look almost pitch black. ]
Youāll get off, youāll get me off, youāll head home, youāll spend every goddamn night thinking about meā¦and then youāll show back up at that door within a week.
[ Heās so confident in that prediction that he would put money on it. ]
Lather, rinse, repeat until one of us skips town or dies. Isnāt that right?
[ when eddie digs his fingernails, stubby even as they are, into his shoulders, gator grunts. what eddie doesn't know is that gator likes it to hurt, sometimes one way, sometimes both ways. he likes the hand in his hair, the gelled locks coming undone with a tug. gator bites his lip, then kisses along eddie's jawline. his hand is still lazy, though he's enjoying that hint of desperation. he's just as horny for it, the weed and beer and music and - fuck, he feels good. smells good. tastes good. ]
Well, goddamn, look at you. Fuckin' psychic. What else you got in that crystal ball?
[ it's a dark chuckle against eddie's skin, hot, breathy. he continues to stroke him slow, but as soon as he feels him stiffen, gator sighs, pleased. his eyes close, another hum of low approval exiting his nose. he kisses eddie's neck, biting, sucking, making sure to leave the prettiest mark possible. he flicks his tongue over it, ownership, even if only in the moment. ]
You ain't skippin' town. We're both dyin'.
[ he licks the underside of eddie's ear, nibbling on the flesh of the lobe. low-hanging fruit, breath beer-laced and warm. he frees eddie completely, then glances down at it, watching his own palm wrap and pull. he licks his lip again, then gazes down at eddie, looking into the darkness of those eyes. he likes them, and he won't pretend otherwise. he swallows thickly, then kisses him again, only this time - it's a little gentler, less haste. gator sucks on eddie's bottom lip, then devours him again, piece by piece. ]
Blind man could see thatās exactly whatās gonna happen. A full week might even be generous.
[Just like a blind man could also see that Eddie isnāt going to turn him away when this inevitably happens again. Heās well aware that heās always leaned just a little too close to an addictive personality for comfort, and heās taken care not to involve himself with anything much harder than weed and alcohol, if only for the sake of his uncle, but this? Gatorās lips and teeth and hands and dark eyes? Dangerous. So much more dangerous than any pill or substance, and Eddie already wants more.
He swears again, louder this time as Gatorās teeth find his neck and work at leaving a nice souvenir, one heāll have to admire in the mirror later. A ragged gasp is ripped from the back of his throat and he inclines his head to offer a wider swath of skin, his grip on Gatorās hair only tightening in an effort to keep him there, to keep him close. Although he says nothing, his meaning is more than clear: Go ahead, devour me whole, see if I care to stop you.
Heās in a frenzy, a live wire ready to spark, but what really manages to dizzy him is when everything slows down a little. Itās not any less pleasurable, but when the kisses become slower, softer, heās so taken aback that he has no choice but to slow down himself, realizing that he doesnāt have to force this to an end. Why would he do something like that when he isnāt actually ready for it to be over? He swallow each kiss, lingers in them for as long as he possibly can, welcomes the ones that end in a bite. His eyes flutter closed and in that moment, he decides that maybe the watermelon flavored nicotine isnāt so bad. Sort of pleasant, even, when mixed with the sour scent and taste of beer. ]
What? [ He manages to rasp, hearing the question perfectly well, but too dazed and blissed out for any immediate response. A couple blinks and he manages a much more typical response: ] Wouldnāt you like to know?
[ He supposes he would probably like to know. Heās loath to pull away, to lose the teeth and fingers marking his body even for a moment, but this sort of arrangement is often better when both parties are equally involved. With another huff of frustration, he steals one last kiss, bites at Gatorās lip as he pulls away, then slips to his knees on the ancient, faded carpet. ]
Maybe youāre the first. Maybe youāre the second, third, fourthā¦Would it really make you feel any less special?
[ He stares up at him with those enormous eyes, head tilted with faux innocence as he takes the whole thing achingly slow, walking his fingers slowly up Gatorās thighs toward his beltā¦where he pauses to smirk, pulls his hands away, and very purposefully pushes all that long hair back behind his ears and over his shoulders, implying that heās done this at least once before and would very much like to avoid at least some kind of messy repeat this time around. ]
Now, where were weā¦?
[ He pretends to think very hard for a moment, thenā¦fuck it. He skips right to the chase, reaches up to work his beltās buckle open, pulls his zipper down and reaches in, only to let out a bark of shocked laughter.]
Jesus Christ. You just may be the first cop in the history of the world who actually isnāt over-compensating. Congratulations. What am I supposed to do with all this?
[ It doesnāt seem to be a question that he really needs answered, because he seems to know just what to do. He wraps his hand around him, stokes him with a flick of his wrist, then drags his tongue up the length, gaze still fixed on the face above him, intense and unblinking. ]
I am gonna skip town. One of these days. Then what will you do?
[ He smirks, almost daring him to respond honestly, holds his gaze for just a beat longer, then takes him in his mouth. One hand works away on what he canāt reach wit his mouth, and the other digs into the other manās thigh, stubby nails scraping and clawing into his flesh. Unpracticed and a little uncoordinated, but not horrible. ]
[ maybe, maybe not. he has his legs spread, cammo and black t-shirt, eddie's breath on his thigh - fuck, he looks good like this, on his knees. gator licks his bottom lip, chest rising and falling with anticipation. he's hard, beyond hard, and who knew it would only take a few substances and kissing? he's desperate, but it doesn't show, his knees lifting very slightly to open his legs further. he wants to kiss eddie again, wants to properly take him to bed, but this is just as good - maybe better. gator gets off on the control just as much as everything else, but this pretty thing unzipping him and reaching in - gator moans, low and soft.
this is territory gator didn't think he'd breach with eddie munson, of all people. the skinny burnout guitarist, the drug dealer, the illegal bits and pieces of his life all adding up to one hell of a rap sheet. all of his indiscretions, this is just one more, isn't it? and as for gator, he's never cared where he gets it. sure, he's looked at him once or twice, but it's always been passing fancy. nothing solid, nothing tangible. now that he's exposed and eddie's complimenting him, his size, gator laughs, just as velvet as his touch as he helps brush eddie's hair out of his face. he tucks a lock behind his ear, then tilts his head. ]
I ain't over-compensatin' for shit, baby. Too much for you?
[ eddie's tongue is a sin in itself, written on the back page of a bible with a phone number. gator's eyes flutter closed at the sensation, of eddie's warm hand, the slickness of his mouth. his back arches just slightly, turning into a roll of his hips. his grip ends up on one of the threadbare cushions, heels in his boots digging into the carpet. however, when eddie utters it: i am gonna skip town... - gator's eyes open, and they're shiny and cruel. no softness, the edges around his irises hard and dark. he lifts eddie's chin, a quick movement, teeth gritting. he looks down at him, the intensity thick. a knife's edge runs between them, and gator smiles. there is no mirth. ]
You run away and I'll chase you down.
[ why? he doesn't know. it's not like they know each other that fucking well, and this is the first time they've ever... done anything as intimate. eddie's still on his knees, and before gator can elaborate, eddie is sucking him and gator grunts, his expression immediately turning from stone-cold to melted, the weed and beer in his system kicking into high gear at the pleasure. gator places his hand at the back of eddie's neck, guiding him, his thighs tightening. ]
I'll chase you down and make you come until you wanna turn back.
[ he's a man of his word. now that it's happening - eddie is right. this is now a line crossed into addiction, and at the thought of pumping loads into eddie - gator gasps, a moan exiting wet lips. he's already leaking, eddie's nails digging, and gator hisses, thrusting shallowly. he wants this so bad, and it's only unlocked now in his mind. ]
[ It really should be enough to shut him up for a time, but it isnāt. Eddie allows himself to be guided for a time, genuinely enjoying the warm weight of the hand on the back of his neck and he hums low in the back of his throat around Gatorās cock, encourages his thrusting even if it means hell for his own gag reflect. But when he thinks Gator is close to finishing, he pull off of him, chest heaving and a touch of laughter in his throat. He already looks half a mess, eyes watering and cheeks flushed, wiping saliva from his chin with the back of his hand, but thereās clearly still a good measure of wickedness there as he pulls back, teases, does everything he can to be a brat. ]
You sound like a man obsessed already, sweetheart. A small time dealer really has you this hot and bothered?
[ His accusation comes paired with a smirk and a dark chuckle as he rests his cheek against Gatorās thigh and peers up at him with those wide eyes, looking almost sweet of a moment. He thinks he could try it, though. Take that wad of cash and see how far he can coast before it all runs dry and he has to turn back or figure out something else. There really isnāt much for him to lose at this point, and the thought of of finally getting out is appealing in and of itself, but what really puts it over the edge is the tempting threat of being chased. Itās about seven different shades of fucked up how readily he think heād welcome it and how deeply he wants to challenge him on it just to give him a nudge in the right direction. Because the cruel, hard look in his eyes and the way he lifts Eddieās chin to meet his gazeāEddie believes heād do it, given enough encouragement.
All Eddie was really aiming for tonight was one less noise complaint on his record and the police off his back for a single evening. Heād wanted Gator Tillman in and out of his home as quickly as possible, but now things have twisted rather dramatically and here he is on his knees, palming himself while he willingly sucks that very same man off. Even worse, Eddie is sure heāll do just about anything to chase this high again when itās all over. He canāt phrase why and heās not even sure he wants to understand what was unlocked in him tonight. All he can do is acknowledge that the two of them have walked hand in hand into the lionās den and the exit has been sealed. They are both well and truly, completely and utterly fucked.
And the worst part is just how fine he is with that. He feels fully insane. ]
Butā
[ He begins, raising his head. He licks his lips and chooses to take pity on him, repositioning to take him in his mouth once more. He wants so badly to hear him hiss and moan again, and he scrapes his short nails down his thigh, leaving white marks as he swirls his tongue over the tip, eye contact still unbroken. ]
Iād really like to see you try.
[ There it is. A challenge, emphasis on the really, clearly containing more than a crumb of truth. Eddie would very much like to see him try. ]
[ gator is close, and when eddie pulls off - he grunts, hand at the back of his head tightening as he takes in a sharp breath. his mouth is open; fat-tongued due to the weed, the pleasure still rocking through his pelvis. he thrusts up, trying to get back at eddie's mouth, a groan of frustration and a slight whine as eddie denies him. he speaks, and gator's eyes light up, that cruel streak rearing its head. he slips his hand around eddie's neck, wrapping his fingers around his throat. he doesn't squeeze, but the eye contact he's holding means he doesn't have to. he'd never have to. ]
You think I won't chase your ass down? Ain't nothin' I can't do. Is that it?
[ when eddie takes mercy and slips the head of gator's cock back into his mouth, gator pants, the sensation of eddie's nails sending him over the edge. he rocks his hips, hand now in eddie's hair as he rides it out. again, he pulls off, and gator groans, so frustrated that he swallows thickly. he wants to come. he knows he's eddie's plaything for now, and that both turns him on and makes him incredibly angry. what about this little burnout does it for him? those eyes, maybe. that ass in those jeans, again, maybe. gator grabs a handful of eddie's hair, ripping his head back, before he leans down and kisses him. he can taste himself, taste cock, but that doesn't bother him, never has. ]
What'cha want, huh? Me to admit somethin'? You think I won't tax that ass like it owes me money? You think I won't ruin you for anyone else?
[ he backs away, hand still in eddie's hair, and he stares down at him. cold, calculating, but glassy-eyed from lust and substances. he takes in a breath, steadying. ]
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[ the joint is a joke, and gator can see it as eddie hands it over. he leans forward, plucking it with attitude, his gaze not leaving eddie's for a solid moment. he then looks at it, rolls his eyes, a sigh escaping his nose as he opens it, re-rolls it, then licks and twists. ]
You're a fuckin' shitty joint-roller, you know that? Or were you just tryin' to fuck with me?
[ oh, it's tempting. the idea that flashes through gator's mind - reaching forward and grabbing eddie by the throat. the lick of violence is soon subsided as gator pulls a lighter from his pocket and sparks said joint. he takes a deep drag, no coughing, the smoke lilting from his lips. he nods, jerking his head, offering the joint to eddie. ]
Don't make me do this shit by myself.
[ strained, he exhales, a healthy dose of smoke exiting his lungs. he wiggles the joint between his fingers for eddie to take, impatient. if eddie has to be the one babysitting gator tillman, he shouldn't be doing it sober. ]
Go on. Don't be a cocktease, now.
no subject
[ He clutches a hand to his chest, eyes even wider than the norm as he feigns innocence and hurt. It might actually work on someone who hasnāt known him for longer than fifteen minutes, but those big brown eyes wonāt fool anyone for long. Eddie Munson is anything but innocent, and the fact that he can hardly stop himself from grinning in amusement as Gator rerolls the joint is a sure sign that he is absolutely the type to roll a shitty joint on purpose. Especially to law enforcement.
It doesnāt take him long to drop the act, though. He drops onto the shitty couch beside his impatient house guest, resisting the urge to get into his space and take up as much room as humanly possible just to be a nuisance. ]
Are you asking me to hold your hand? And here I thought you were a big boy. But, if you insistā¦
[ He plucks the joint from Gatorās hand, and immediately sort of regrets under-packing it now that heās partaking too. Itās fine. The wad of cash in his pocket says he owes this guy any amount of weed he wants for the time being. ]
Iām kind of impressed, actually. Not even a cough. Bravo.
no subject
[ brows raise, skeptical expression painted, head tilting as he shoots eddie a look. dangerous as that is, he watches him under dark lashes as eddie takes the joint. he sucks in the last of the smoke, then lets it blow from his parted lips. ]
What, you gonna turn down a little weed? You afraid I'll get too high or somethin'?
[ gator purses his lips, eddie a little too close for comfort, but gator leans back against the worn headrest, closing his eyes. he's not buzzed, not yet, but the smell and the inhale in his lungs - strong shit, and gator grins slowly. he opens his eyes, turning with his head still against the couch. ]
Hurry up and give that shit back.
[ he raises his fingers, wiggling them playfully. ]
Don't make me get mean.
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[ Thereās that feigned innocence again as Eddie shoots him a look of his own, doe-eyed an even-toned, but there actually might be a glimmer of truth behind his words this time. Heās well aware that the man on the couch beside him is dangerous, extremely volatile and in a position that allows him to call Eddie out on his illegal shit at any point in time that he may grow irritated enough to do so. ]
You might actually loosen up and become a pleasant person to be around. And if that happens? Well, goddamn, youād be totally rewriting every opinion Iāve ever formed of you. And we canāt go doing that now, can we?
[ But of course, Eddie canāt help but crack a joke, coasting only on the comfort of the fact that being the keeper of the drugs kind of gives him just enough of an upper hand to be a little shit for awhile. ]
Hey, hey, hey. Hold your horses.
[ He leans out of reach to take another slow puff on the joint. Just to waste time. Just to be annoying. It wonāt matter in the end. He has another, much better one already rolled and ready to go. ]
This is you being nice, huh? I know weāve already established that Iām definitely special, but, uhā¦tell me.
[ He tilts his head, grinning. ]
Are all the other local criminals this lucky? Or just me?
no subject
he's more relaxed than he's been all day, but who knew it'd be at the hands of the munson burnout. he's a criminal with a nothing future, and gator knows that one day, just one day, he won't have him to protect and serve. cuffs are going to be on this boy at some point. gator licks his lips, they're dry, fat tongue still damp with it. he almost laments that eddie lives like this, but that doesn't last long. no feeling does but the ache for more. ]
You should be fuckin' terrified, but you ain't, are you? I'm pleasant as fuckin' punch, sweetheart, but if you got a problem with my presence, say the word.
[ eyebrows jump, so does his hands, mouth pulling down in an overreacting frown. it's then that gator snatches the joint after eddie's slow, deliberate movements. gator sticks out his tongue, pulling a face, before he tokes on the joint. he inhales, stickiness in his lungs, but no coughing once again. another pull, then another. that's when the ton of bricks comes falling. he's high, so high. he glances over to catch eddie grinning at him, and gator smirks slow. ]
Maybe it's 'cause you're so fuckin' stupid.
[ he smiles, then pushes eddie back against the cushion. he holds his hand over his chest, eyes glittering. ]
Or maybe it's 'cause I think you're kinda -
[ there it is, the cough. it rolls out of gator in a wave, and he laughs, smoke thick between them as he leans his head back. ]
Motherfucker.
no subject
He opens his mouth to make another smartass quipāsomething about his level of intelligence and how it didnāt hurt from the teachers in his life, therefore itās not going to hurt from law enforcement who, for the record, is just as stupid as he is if heās not expecting to be drug testedā
But it all dies on his tongue. The warm hand pressing against his chest is enough to stupefy him into silence for once in his life, however briefly. His eyes widen, his heart thumps, and he struggles to find a responseā¦and then comes the cough, Eddie laughs, and the spell is broken. But heās not quite ready to move on yet. ]
Well, donāt leave me hanging, big man. Kind ofā¦what?
[ Maybe he was wrong to call Gator uninteresting when heās high. This is a very interesting turn of events. He sits up and once again, crowds the already shrinking space between them. ]
Intriguing? Annoying as shit? Oddly charming and charismatic? Or, my absolute favorite, in league with the devil?
[ And thereās that stupid grin again, eyes bright as if heās almost daring him to respond honestly.]
All of the above is acceptable as well.
no subject
this is dangerous. gator inwardly kicks himself, mouth curling from grin to grimace. he turns his head away, hand at eddie's chest long-since forgotten. he sighs, leaning back against the sofa. he looks over at eddie, those big, bright eyes. he's too close. gator's mouth slides into a sneer, and he leans forward, daring eddie to lean in. he looks his face over, gaze from his eyes to his nose, his mouth. ]
I think you're fuckin' annoyin'.
[ that doesn't stop the churning disgust at himself, the slow licking of his lips speaking it all for him as he decides against it. for now. he moves himself out of eddie's web, knowing the sticky fronds of weed will lead him there eventually. maybe. probably. who knows? gator blinks, and the temptation is so there. he can't help himself, and it rolls off of his wet tongue. ]
I think you're kinda cute, for a fuckin' drug dealer. You know I should take your sorry ass in for that alone. Look at you. Fuckin' danger to yourself.
[ gator closes his eyes for a moment, a rush and another ton of bricks hits him. he's beyond stoned, and he lays his hand on eddie's bent knee. ]
You should roll another. You got beer?
no subject
Eddie offers an amused look at the confirmation that, not only is he annoying, but fucking annoying, but says nothing. He merely takes one last drag of the ember burning between his fingers and, in one smooth movement, blows out a column of smoke, and then leans over to stub out the cinders in the overflowing ashtrayāright across Gator. Obnoxious, suffocating, entirely too close, like personal space is merely a suggestion.
And then, there it is. Thereās a long pause, heart beating in his ears as he contemplates that reveal. Despite all his constant teasing, poking and prodding, Eddie was never really sure if he expected it to lead anywhere other than two black eyes.
Now itās Eddie who needs to put some space between them. Finally, he snorts and stands, letting the hand fall from his knee. ]
Yeah? And how are you gonna spin that paperwork?
[ Thereās another sly smile just before he breaks off to collect the second joint and beer. His voice comes muffled from the depths of the kitchen: ]
You know, that stupid hat does you no favors, but, uhā¦
[ He hesitates, running his tongue over his teeth, almost loathing himself for what heās about to say. But heās feeling bold, and this is probably going to remain as nothing but a very foggy memory by the time all of this wears off. ]
Despite your own line of employment? Yeah, youāre not so bad yourself.
no subject
My hat ain't stupid. I know how I look.
[ he smiles despite this, then pushes himself to sit up. he fails once, but then finds his balance, a short laugh escaping. it's not a rare sight, gator laughing, but it's the tone of it that's the thing. he's usually cruel, mean, sinister laughter in the dark. a whistle from his lips and a tire iron against the head. boots, fists. this isn't like that, this is different, as gator is laughing in a way that's light, almost airy. almost. ]
Hurry back here. I'm thirsty. I need somethin' to drink.
[ and he is, the weed parching the inside of his mouth. he finally tears his stare from eddie to the various drugs he has in his open lunchbox. ketamine sounds tempting, but this isn't just some fun party. this is eddie fucking munson, and gator's already called him cute. there are the bells, the sirens, and gator clears his throat. he isn't sober, not a sliver, but he's mildly paranoid. it'll be fine when he's crossfaded. that'll be better. that'll... balance. ]
My line of employment is fuckin' important, my feelin's don't really matter.
no subject
But for now? That laugh is what stops him dead in his tracks.
It feelsā¦sort of wrong, and not because itās particularly chilling. Itās wrong because it lacks malice, lacks cruelty, and is somehow shockinglyā¦normal? Eddie has heard Gator laugh before, but it was never quite like this. This feels almostā¦wrong, sheerly because of how normal it is. It isnāt paired with the sound of violence, and thereās no malice, no cruelty, no dripping dark ferocity. This is unburdened, almost carefree, and itās not an unpleasant sight or sound.
Finally, Eddie shakes it off, but he canāt help but think that this man should have taken up smoking years ago. Maybe heād be at least slightly better adjusted. ]
My feelinās donāt really matter.
[ He echoes in a damn good impersonation, unceremoniously shoving a beer in Gatorās direction as he flops back onto the couch with the second joint already lit and between his lips. Itās much less pitiful compared to the previous one, with some actual effort put into it. ]
So, uh, what do you call the level of pissed you get when I call you officer, then? Is that a feeling or...just a really nasty involuntary bodily response? Demonic possession?
[ One canāt coast on a built up tolerance forever, and as Eddie blow out a column of smoke, it becomes abundantly clear that itās really starting to hit him now. That familiar heavy feeling begins to sink in, like heās swimming through syrup. Itās not unpleasant by any means, but with increasingly heavy limbs, shrugging his jacket off turns into a mighty effort. With the out of the way, he lets his head fall back against the headrest with a low chuckle, eyes half-lidded now. ]
And by the way? You should laugh more often. Like, a real laugh. Looks good on you.
no subject
They don't.
[ without abandon to hold him back, gator stares as eddie removes his jacket. he shrugs it off, leather falling against the worn cushions. he's transfixed, taking the joint from eddie's fingers to take a long inhale. he blows the smoke out in a ring, then blows through it. he hands the joint to eddie, then sits up a bit, fucked beyond all recognition. he licks his lips, then another long guzzle of beer. ]
'Cause I ain't an officer anymore. I'm a fuckin' deputy. I don't like it is all.
[ more beer, and the can is finished. he holds it between his legs, cammo-adorned and open. he's relaxed, more than anything he's felt in a while. when eddie compliments his fucking laugh, though, gator still feels pinpricks of panic. ]
You're just sayin' that shit so I don't bust you.
[ and he truly believes that. ]
Ain't nothin' about me that you want.
no subject
[ Eddie just canāt help himself. He throws his head back and erupts in a howl of laughter, like Gator has just told him the most hysterical joke of all time. He struggles for composure, but it takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to calm down enough to explain. Wiping tears from his eyes, he continues: ]
Every other comment Iāve made tonight is enough to risk you kicking my ass or turning me in. But you think that I think a complimentānot even a particularly groveling oneāis gonna change that? I was wrong about you, man. Youāre fascinating.
[ His shoulders shake and he covers his face with a hand, threatening a second wave of laughter. He genuinely doesnāt mean it to be cruel or mocking, but the fact that Gator thinks this is what Eddie is under the impression is going to save him is truly hystericalāand would be regardless of the amount of marijuana in his system. If he wanted to play it safe, he wouldnāt poke so much. He would do better feigning innocence. He wouldnāt be sitting on his own couch with an officerādeputy. ]
Jesus Christ. I canāt be the first person to say something nice to you.
[ Or maybe he could. Thereās a lot to be said about Gatorās personality, even if the vessel it comes in is, unfortunately, kind of handsome. Eddie shakes his head and snorts, finally offering up the joint after that display of nonsense.
Then comes aināt nothinā about me that you want, an all Eddie can do is shrug noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying. There is a lot that he dislikes about this man. He could write entire list and still add more on a bad day. And yetā¦ ]
You sound pretty sure of yourself.
no subject
You think you got the right to say somethin' like that?
[ he's not argumentative. far from it. gator's brows contract, and he's confused. fascinating. he knows what it means, but he's never particularly thought that about himself... or anyone, for that matter. but right now, in this moment, eddie is the most interesting thing he's ever seen. his gaze travels eddie's face, and gator snatches the joint back. he knows he shouldn't, but he inhales deep and blows it into the air between them. ]
Maybe you are.
[ untrue, but he has to admit that he kind of likes the attention. it's more than he ever got growing up under roy tillman's boot on his throat. useless, stupid. that's what he's more inclined to hear. puke pile. gator doesn't think of that, he can't, and he finishes the joint all by himself simply to be an asshole. simply to be unpleasant. he hands eddie the roach of it, tilting his head with a smile. ]
How's that for fascinatin', huh?
[ then that - you sound pretty sure of yourself catches him off-guard. what the hell is he supposed to say to that? gator inwardly panics, and then the effects hit like a train. he leans against the cushions again, turned to eddie, watching him. ]
Put on some music.
no subject
Usually. There are always exceptions. The asshole on his couch right now did just finish the entire joint off by himself which doesnāt exactly endear him to Eddie. But all the same...]
Iām actually pretty sure I have the right to say anything I want. Deputy.
[ And thereās that incessant grin again as he tilts his head, holding the other's gaze unblinkingly as he yet again reaches over him to stub out what remains of that joint. ]
And Iām also pretty sure I never shut up, so, uh, the chances of me saying something else equally nice before you leave or, more likely, pass out? Extremely high.
[ In a way, it just might be a threat. He notices that his guest very pointedly avoids that last statement (which is equally fascinating), and Eddie is willing to leave that alone for now, but he canāt promise things wonāt loop back around. Heās never balked at the opportunity to make people uncomfortable anyway, particularly this person.
Then heās asked to put some music on, and he tips his head back, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he groans dramatically. Itās as if heās just been asked to take a hike across the Sahara rather than three steps across the room. He feels too heavy and too sluggish and weighed down to make the trek. ]
You couldnāt have asked five minutes ago? Jesus Christ.
[ But he forces himself up regardless, and although those three steps feel like miles, he manages, cursing himself in the back of his cloudy mind for giving in to these demands at all.
He digs out a record (old school, always, why mess with a good thing?), sets it onto the turntable, and drops the needle. The standard Munson fare begins to crackle out of the speakersāsomething heavy on the guitar and overlaid with raw vocals. He makes a show out of turning it down to a respectable level as well, turning to look right at Gator as he gives an exaggerated twist of the dialā¦then readjusts it and turns it back up a notch or two. His reputation, no matter how much itās been twisted by the public, simply wonāt allow him be too respectable. ]
Once I sit back down, Iām not getting up again, so you may as well make any and all requests now.
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Is that so? You gonna sweet-talk me?
[ there go the inhibitions. they melt down into his shoes, just like the rest of him, and he plants himself haphazardly on the couch now. he rips his vape from his outer thigh pocket and takes a pull of it, sour watermelon filling the air. the nicotine will put him right, okay? that makes sense. it'll keep the flush from his cheeks from being too obvious. it's the weed, it makes him... warm. ]
Jesus Christ!
[ it's mocking, but playful, and he watches eddie struggle off of the couch to put something on. he notes how he bends over, the sliver of skin that exposes itself between jeans and t-shirt. gator licks his lips slow, then takes another drag from the vape. he blows the smoke upward, but when the tune starts, he closes his eyes. that's what he wants, to simply exist here. he taps the beat with his fingertips against his knee, and he's close to smiling, a smirk edging itself across the expanse of his mouth. his dark lashes open, and he stares at eddie, really stares at him. he crooks his finger. ]
Led Zeppelin.
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But he doesnāt linger. He heads over to put the music on and doesnāt look back until Gator mocks him. He rolls his eyes dramatically over his shoulder, but silently concedes that he probably deserves a taste of his own medicine. ]
Led Zeppelin.
[ He echoes with a laugh and a shake of his head. Now that is a request heās more than happy to oblige. The current record is removed and returned to its sleeve, and a battered Zeppelin album is selected. ]
Youāre a man of far better taste than I suspected, Tillman. Color me surprised.
[ The space between them grows suspiciously smaller when Eddie returns to the battered couch. Now theyāre close enough that Eddie can knock his knee against Gatorās, and does, just because he can. He says nothing, just lets his eyes drift shut for the briefest of moments while the sweet sounds of Jimmy Pageās guitar fill his ears and the scent of watermelon assaults his senses. He considers complaining, considers telling him that flavored nicotine isnāt going to save his lungs any more than the cheap filter cigarettes Eddie smokes, but he not feeling it. That trek took a lot out of him and just might have softened his bite a bit.
He tips his head to the side, eyes fluttering open again, and stares silently for a beat, two, then reaches over to further bridge whatever space remains between them. Without allowing himself a moment to think (or rather overthink), he lets his fingers skate idly over the collar of the other manās jacket, so close to skin to skin contact, but not quite there. ]
You know, I was under the impression I already was. Sweet-talking you, I mean.
[ That wave has to crash eventually, and Eddie may as well help it along. Itās stupid, heāll probably regret it later, but thatās the effect weed so often has. Right now, heās willing tot take the risk, just to see what all of this is accumulating to. ]
Or was I not obvious enough?
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Then keep doin' it.
[ he reaches up, slow and delayed, the weed pumping through him enough to stop the rattle-shot his heart would normally be without it. he places his hand on eddie's thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth. lazy, unbothered. he's already past wanting to kill him, but if he says something stupid, well, that could change. but now, in this moment, in the waves of the music and the warmth of the trailer - gator keeps his gaze fixed on eddie until he smiles. molasses, poured right out of a jar. ]
You might just get fucked.
[ his eyes light up, but they're near-black with how blown his irises are. he leans his head against the back of the couch, hand raising. he pauses just above eddie's zipper, then pulls away, shrugging out of his jacket. the kevlar is next, and then it's just a black t-shirt before his skin. he knows that this is wrong, yeah, but so is everything else in this podunk fucking town. nothing's been right since he moved here, but this feels better. right. who the fuck cares? ]
Unless you want dinner first. You that kinda girl? Like to be wined and dined before you're sixty-nined?
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And just like Gator, Eddie has landed on āwho the fuck caresā. This town would hate him even if he were the most upstanding of upstanding citizens. What he does or how he behaves really doesnāt matter when itās always going to end the same way. Besides, If he cared, truly cared, he could have ended this two joints and a beer ago. He could have ended it before the door was even opened.
But he didnāt, and now this is where theyāve landed. Quite the jump from the start of the evening. ]
Wow, just outright assuming Iād let you, huh? Thatās bold.
[ As if it does any good to play coy now. Heās doing an awful job backing it up, anyway. He may chuckle, but itās not enough to hide the fact that the hand on his thigh has his head spinning and his heart pounding like a drum. Or the frustrated, disappointed huff he canāt help but make when the hand is pulled away. Embarrassing and pitiful, really, but he can and will easily blame it on the fact that heās high as a kite. An easy excuse right at his fingertips. ]
I really donāt think youāre that much of a gentleman, if Iām being perfectly honest.
[ He tilts his head and studies him for a moment without all those layers. Eddie has had a difficult time seeing Gator as anything other than just another cop, something thatās already shifted quite a bit this evening, but seeing him without the kevlar really seals it. Not that heās aiming for anything close to an emotional connection here, but seeing him as a real person? Kind of a nice change. He almost reminds him of someone. Almost.
He doesnāt let himself dwell on it, though. That could be dangerou. Instead, he reaches out yet again, works his fingers into the thin fabric of the t-shirt and tugs, urging him in closer. ]
But, uh, Iām also pretty sure Iām not like any kind of girl youāve ever met, so I think Iāll manage, sweetheart.
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Go on, you don't know I ain't a gentleman, do you?
[ soft, a whisper, gravel and home-grown grit. gator grins again, being tugged by eddie by his t-shirt, being pulled. he likes it, likes knowing that eddie? is right there with him. he breaks the distance, his mouth covering eddie's as he kisses him, slow, stoned, deep. his eyes flutter closed, hand still resting against eddie's dick as he picks up his massaging. he wants him hard, begging, so full of gator that he can't walk. this isn't what gator expected pulling up - he thought he'd get enough and go home, collapse, jerk off thinking of something like this, then fall asleep. that's as far as he's ever gotten around eddie munson and said tight jeans. ]
I could take you out to a nice fuckin' dinner, let you meet my goddamn daddy, ride you around and pretend you're mine, but that ain't what you want, and that ain't what I want, now is it, huh?
[ against eddie's ear, gator's hot breath coming out in aroused huffs as he touches eddie, unzips him, reaches inside - he groans, wrapping his hand around him and giving a healthy stroke. ]
You been hidin' all this from me?
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Jesus fucking Christā
[ He gasps and jolts, his hips arching away from the couch as if a current of electricityās been shot through him. He hisses and releases his grip on the fabric of the t-shirt, scrambling to find purchase in something a bit more solidānamely, Gatorās shoulders, nails digging right through the t-shirt and into flesh. He doesnāt mean it to hurt, but he doesnāt particularly care if it does. Heās already well on his way to coming totally undone, and theyāve only just begun.
He doesnāt beg, but thereās a sort of desperation there regardless, like he can count on one hand the amount of times heās been touched like this by another person. For all his teasing, he is woefully inexperienced, and it shows. Itās always been the wrong place, wrong people, no timeā¦Does that make Gator Tillman the right person? Apparently it does, at least tonight.
Besides, what he lacks in experience, he makes up for it with enthusiasm and an almost wildly unpracticed edge, surging forward to meet the kiss with more teeth than most people would find particularly enjoyable. ]
Like you would risk anyone knowing about this.
[ He just barely manages to huff out a laugh before heās thrown once more, a groan pulled from his throat. That doesnāt mean heās at a loss for words, though. Shutting up Eddie Munson is a nearly impossible feat, and he proceeds to hiss out a stream of expletives, just about every filthy word in the English language tumbling from his lips as he arches against Gatorās hand, chasing the feeling of pleasure. ]
Once isnāt gonna be enough, though, you know.
[ He reaches up to tangle his fingers into the other manās hair, giving an experimental tug just to see what happens. He stares, pupils blown so wide that his eyes look almost pitch black. ]
Youāll get off, youāll get me off, youāll head home, youāll spend every goddamn night thinking about meā¦and then youāll show back up at that door within a week.
[ Heās so confident in that prediction that he would put money on it. ]
Lather, rinse, repeat until one of us skips town or dies. Isnāt that right?
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Well, goddamn, look at you. Fuckin' psychic. What else you got in that crystal ball?
[ it's a dark chuckle against eddie's skin, hot, breathy. he continues to stroke him slow, but as soon as he feels him stiffen, gator sighs, pleased. his eyes close, another hum of low approval exiting his nose. he kisses eddie's neck, biting, sucking, making sure to leave the prettiest mark possible. he flicks his tongue over it, ownership, even if only in the moment. ]
You ain't skippin' town. We're both dyin'.
[ he licks the underside of eddie's ear, nibbling on the flesh of the lobe. low-hanging fruit, breath beer-laced and warm. he frees eddie completely, then glances down at it, watching his own palm wrap and pull. he licks his lip again, then gazes down at eddie, looking into the darkness of those eyes. he likes them, and he won't pretend otherwise. he swallows thickly, then kisses him again, only this time - it's a little gentler, less haste. gator sucks on eddie's bottom lip, then devours him again, piece by piece. ]
You ever gave a man head?
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[Just like a blind man could also see that Eddie isnāt going to turn him away when this inevitably happens again. Heās well aware that heās always leaned just a little too close to an addictive personality for comfort, and heās taken care not to involve himself with anything much harder than weed and alcohol, if only for the sake of his uncle, but this? Gatorās lips and teeth and hands and dark eyes? Dangerous. So much more dangerous than any pill or substance, and Eddie already wants more.
He swears again, louder this time as Gatorās teeth find his neck and work at leaving a nice souvenir, one heāll have to admire in the mirror later. A ragged gasp is ripped from the back of his throat and he inclines his head to offer a wider swath of skin, his grip on Gatorās hair only tightening in an effort to keep him there, to keep him close. Although he says nothing, his meaning is more than clear: Go ahead, devour me whole, see if I care to stop you.
Heās in a frenzy, a live wire ready to spark, but what really manages to dizzy him is when everything slows down a little. Itās not any less pleasurable, but when the kisses become slower, softer, heās so taken aback that he has no choice but to slow down himself, realizing that he doesnāt have to force this to an end. Why would he do something like that when he isnāt actually ready for it to be over? He swallow each kiss, lingers in them for as long as he possibly can, welcomes the ones that end in a bite. His eyes flutter closed and in that moment, he decides that maybe the watermelon flavored nicotine isnāt so bad. Sort of pleasant, even, when mixed with the sour scent and taste of beer.
]
What? [ He manages to rasp, hearing the question perfectly well, but too dazed and blissed out for any immediate response. A couple blinks and he manages a much more typical response: ] Wouldnāt you like to know?
[ He supposes he would probably like to know. Heās loath to pull away, to lose the teeth and fingers marking his body even for a moment, but this sort of arrangement is often better when both parties are equally involved. With another huff of frustration, he steals one last kiss, bites at Gatorās lip as he pulls away, then slips to his knees on the ancient, faded carpet. ]
Maybe youāre the first. Maybe youāre the second, third, fourthā¦Would it really make you feel any less special?
[ He stares up at him with those enormous eyes, head tilted with faux innocence as he takes the whole thing achingly slow, walking his fingers slowly up Gatorās thighs toward his beltā¦where he pauses to smirk, pulls his hands away, and very purposefully pushes all that long hair back behind his ears and over his shoulders, implying that heās done this at least once before and would very much like to avoid at least some kind of messy repeat this time around. ]
Now, where were weā¦?
[ He pretends to think very hard for a moment, thenā¦fuck it. He skips right to the chase, reaches up to work his beltās buckle open, pulls his zipper down and reaches in, only to let out a bark of shocked laughter.]
Jesus Christ. You just may be the first cop in the history of the world who actually isnāt over-compensating. Congratulations. What am I supposed to do with all this?
[ It doesnāt seem to be a question that he really needs answered, because he seems to know just what to do. He wraps his hand around him, stokes him with a flick of his wrist, then drags his tongue up the length, gaze still fixed on the face above him, intense and unblinking. ]
I am gonna skip town. One of these days. Then what will you do?
[ He smirks, almost daring him to respond honestly, holds his gaze for just a beat longer, then takes him in his mouth. One hand works away on what he canāt reach wit his mouth, and the other digs into the other manās thigh, stubby nails scraping and clawing into his flesh. Unpracticed and a little uncoordinated, but not horrible. ]
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[ maybe, maybe not. he has his legs spread, cammo and black t-shirt, eddie's breath on his thigh - fuck, he looks good like this, on his knees. gator licks his bottom lip, chest rising and falling with anticipation. he's hard, beyond hard, and who knew it would only take a few substances and kissing? he's desperate, but it doesn't show, his knees lifting very slightly to open his legs further. he wants to kiss eddie again, wants to properly take him to bed, but this is just as good - maybe better. gator gets off on the control just as much as everything else, but this pretty thing unzipping him and reaching in - gator moans, low and soft.
this is territory gator didn't think he'd breach with eddie munson, of all people. the skinny burnout guitarist, the drug dealer, the illegal bits and pieces of his life all adding up to one hell of a rap sheet. all of his indiscretions, this is just one more, isn't it? and as for gator, he's never cared where he gets it. sure, he's looked at him once or twice, but it's always been passing fancy. nothing solid, nothing tangible. now that he's exposed and eddie's complimenting him, his size, gator laughs, just as velvet as his touch as he helps brush eddie's hair out of his face. he tucks a lock behind his ear, then tilts his head. ]
I ain't over-compensatin' for shit, baby. Too much for you?
[ eddie's tongue is a sin in itself, written on the back page of a bible with a phone number. gator's eyes flutter closed at the sensation, of eddie's warm hand, the slickness of his mouth. his back arches just slightly, turning into a roll of his hips. his grip ends up on one of the threadbare cushions, heels in his boots digging into the carpet. however, when eddie utters it: i am gonna skip town... - gator's eyes open, and they're shiny and cruel. no softness, the edges around his irises hard and dark. he lifts eddie's chin, a quick movement, teeth gritting. he looks down at him, the intensity thick. a knife's edge runs between them, and gator smiles. there is no mirth. ]
You run away and I'll chase you down.
[ why? he doesn't know. it's not like they know each other that fucking well, and this is the first time they've ever... done anything as intimate. eddie's still on his knees, and before gator can elaborate, eddie is sucking him and gator grunts, his expression immediately turning from stone-cold to melted, the weed and beer in his system kicking into high gear at the pleasure. gator places his hand at the back of eddie's neck, guiding him, his thighs tightening. ]
I'll chase you down and make you come until you wanna turn back.
[ he's a man of his word. now that it's happening - eddie is right. this is now a line crossed into addiction, and at the thought of pumping loads into eddie - gator gasps, a moan exiting wet lips. he's already leaking, eddie's nails digging, and gator hisses, thrusting shallowly. he wants this so bad, and it's only unlocked now in his mind. ]
That's it, baby. Fuck.
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You sound like a man obsessed already, sweetheart. A small time dealer really has you this hot and bothered?
[ His accusation comes paired with a smirk and a dark chuckle as he rests his cheek against Gatorās thigh and peers up at him with those wide eyes, looking almost sweet of a moment. He thinks he could try it, though. Take that wad of cash and see how far he can coast before it all runs dry and he has to turn back or figure out something else. There really isnāt much for him to lose at this point, and the thought of of finally getting out is appealing in and of itself, but what really puts it over the edge is the tempting threat of being chased. Itās about seven different shades of fucked up how readily he think heād welcome it and how deeply he wants to challenge him on it just to give him a nudge in the right direction. Because the cruel, hard look in his eyes and the way he lifts Eddieās chin to meet his gazeāEddie believes heād do it, given enough encouragement.
All Eddie was really aiming for tonight was one less noise complaint on his record and the police off his back for a single evening. Heād wanted Gator Tillman in and out of his home as quickly as possible, but now things have twisted rather dramatically and here he is on his knees, palming himself while he willingly sucks that very same man off. Even worse, Eddie is sure heāll do just about anything to chase this high again when itās all over. He canāt phrase why and heās not even sure he wants to understand what was unlocked in him tonight. All he can do is acknowledge that the two of them have walked hand in hand into the lionās den and the exit has been sealed. They are both well and truly, completely and utterly fucked.
And the worst part is just how fine he is with that. He feels fully insane. ]
Butā
[ He begins, raising his head. He licks his lips and chooses to take pity on him, repositioning to take him in his mouth once more. He wants so badly to hear him hiss and moan again, and he scrapes his short nails down his thigh, leaving white marks as he swirls his tongue over the tip, eye contact still unbroken. ]
Iād really like to see you try.
[ There it is. A challenge, emphasis on the really, clearly containing more than a crumb of truth. Eddie would very much like to see him try. ]
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You think I won't chase your ass down? Ain't nothin' I can't do. Is that it?
[ when eddie takes mercy and slips the head of gator's cock back into his mouth, gator pants, the sensation of eddie's nails sending him over the edge. he rocks his hips, hand now in eddie's hair as he rides it out. again, he pulls off, and gator groans, so frustrated that he swallows thickly. he wants to come. he knows he's eddie's plaything for now, and that both turns him on and makes him incredibly angry. what about this little burnout does it for him? those eyes, maybe. that ass in those jeans, again, maybe. gator grabs a handful of eddie's hair, ripping his head back, before he leans down and kisses him. he can taste himself, taste cock, but that doesn't bother him, never has. ]
What'cha want, huh? Me to admit somethin'? You think I won't tax that ass like it owes me money? You think I won't ruin you for anyone else?
[ he backs away, hand still in eddie's hair, and he stares down at him. cold, calculating, but glassy-eyed from lust and substances. he takes in a breath, steadying. ]
Enough suckin'. Go get the lube.
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