Nope. Cute that you’re under the impression I’d invite you to, though.
[ His tone and grin indicate a joke, but staying truly isn’t an option. It was never an option, and it’s never going to be an option. Despite their alcohol and weed addled minds, they both seem to have arrived at the same conclusion about this situation. They both recognize the risks and the type of bad news it could spell if this little —— were found out by the wrong person. They don’t need to be feeling brave or taking chances here, and this doesn’t need to be a complicated situation.
But it’s kind of already more complicated than Eddie is giving it credit for. If he’d expected anything at all, it was a quick fuck-and-go, because that’s the type of behavior it’s easy to associate with Gator Tillman. Never in a million years did he expect any form of aftercare, any tenderness or sweetness, let alone the two of them pressed close in a small shower washing one another’s backs. Maybe he can thank the weed, but he’s still not sure what to do with this information. It’s novel enough at the moment, but if it becomes a common occurrence, there may well come a time where, no matter what he says, Eddie’s feelings could shift and he won’t want him to leave. And then…well, that would be an enormous problem for everyone involved.
For now, though? For now, that’s not even a seed of worry in the back of his mind. It’s fine. It’s a nice bonus, and it doesn’t have to mean anything because it doesn’t. ]
Tell me about it, man. But, uh, I’m a perfect angel, so…
[ He says as if he didn’t just prove himself the complete opposite only minutes ago. He does keep to his word, though. As he snatches the soaped up washcloth for his own and works it in careful circles along Gator’s spine, his hands don’t wander too far. One does, however, come to rest on his hip, squeezing slightly as he drops kisses along his shoulders. ]
[ cute. gator smirks at that, allowing eddie to wash him gently. he's still unsure of so many things, but this feels good, so good that he melts into the touch. he's not used to it - being cared for, this kind of gentleness. it almost wants to make him flinch, almost wants to make him get dressed and storm out. that stab of anxiety threatens to pierce the veil of substance-induced haze. he closes his eyes, leaning his arms against the shower wall, silent. he's thinking, and thinking deeply, wondering what exactly would happen if his father found out. a barbaric man, a true bastard, a hard man for hard times.
gator respects his father, much more than anyone he has surrounding him. his devotion is buried deep within like bodies on the ranch. the fixing place. how many people has gator killed? just because his father said so? would he be next after this? his brows knit, and when eddie puts his hand on his hip - gator doesn't want it to feel so nice, but it does. enough for gator to try to catch his breath. he looks over his shoulder at eddie, tattooed arms still stretched out, water running over his eyelashes. it's a blur, but he can make out eddie, can make out the look on his face. this is bad.
gator turns, taking the washcloth and eddie's waist, both hands occupied. he leans and kisses eddie - really kisses him - mouth open and still choking on secrets. what if eddie found out about the deaths? would he be scared? would it matter? gator is the definition of bad, of the seed that grows rotten without tending. he's wild, an animal, his mind a trap of violence and rage. but in this moment, he kisses eddie with all he has. he bites his bottom lip, pulling it, sucking on the edge before he lets it go. ]
I gotta go.
[ leaning past eddie to turn off the water, they stare at each other, gator's eyes boring. he parts from eddie to open the curtain, then steps out, soaking. he grabs a threadbare towel, rubbing himself down. he has to get out of here, fucked up or not. he'll meander to the nearest gas station, pick up a six pack, then take it home to get closer to the darkness. holed up in his room, the cold of the night biting into him as he drinks alone. that's more like it. he glances at eddie, and there isn't true hatred in his gaze, but there's something keeping him from kissing him again. the need to flee, to retreat. ]
[ The fact of the matter is that Eddie has some idea of what he’s gotten himself into. Though he may not know the whole of it, he still understands that the man he’s dealing with is genuinely dangerous and at least capable of killing. Whether or not he actually has is unknown to him, but he’s seen the storm brewing behind Gator’s eyes on more than one occasion, and he’s often wondered if, or rather when he might be the next to find Gator’s hands around his throat.
Because Eddie has been known to poke the bear. Cops are easy to mess with, especially the specific breed of small town cop he’s the most familiar with. The ones who will haul him downtown only to release him an hour later because they never find anything and fail to follow up on some pretty obvious leads. Gator isn’t that breed of cop. He’s something darker all together, but Eddie has still never been able to help himself, and the two of them managed to entwine themselves together long before this evening’s events. Eddie sells, Gator uses, and neither can out the other without sacrificing themself as well. They’ve just twisted themselves more tightly together now, adding a second layer to this whole fucked up ordeal.
Eddie is quite certain he’ll be able to untangle himself from Gator, though, if it should come to that. He’s sure he’ll know when to pull back before he digs too deep of a hole for himself. He’s sure, and he can only hope that he’s not wrong, because that kiss sets him on fire, more so than all the ones before it. It’s intense and leaves him wanting for more of something that he knows he can’t have right now. It’s enough to nearly makes him doubt his ability or desire to ever put an end to this. Fuck, this is bad, this is terrifying, actually, and that seed of doubt threatens to germinate once more—
But they part, and just like that, their time is up, and worrying isn’t worth the effort. Eddie reaches for a towel to begin squeezing the water from his dripping hair, wraps the towel around his waist, and carefully slips by the other man to collect fresh clothing from his chaotic dragon’s hoard of a bedroom. ]
I’m not stopping you, man.
[ And he doesn’t. He doesn’t try to reach for him, utters no word to slow him, and when they separate, he makes no move to close the space between them once more. He gets it. Gator has already stayed longer than intended. Any longer and it will look even more suspicious than it already does. They both know that this is how it needs to be.
He emerges moments later, right back in his typical band t-shirt uniform, and leans against the door frame to eye him, arms crossed and head tilted, expression unreadable despite the smile on his mouth. ]
[ entwine and untangle. gator knows that if push comes to shove, he'll haul eddie in, but that's never the case in stark county. roy allows eddie to sell just as he allows gator to use. not a single breath in this fucking county isn't accounted for by roy himself, including all the huffing and puffing they were doing on the couch not an hour ago.
it was good, gator knows that, and he also knows he'll be back for more of it. drugs, sex, rock and roll. the led zeppelin record is skipping in the living room, long since forgotten by both of them in their sex-induced shower. gator gazes at eddie before he slicks his hair back with his hands. he's still wet, but he'll be dry by the time he pulls up at the ranch. that's what matters here. ]
I ain't sayin' you are.
[ gator throws eddie a sarcastic smile, closed-lipped, before he reaches down for his clothes. he hitches his pants up moments later, gun on his thigh as he adjusts his belt. boots are on, ballcap's back on, and he looks good as new. the stink of sex has cleared out, nothing but remnants of weed and beer where a hard fuck happened. gator licks his lips, looking down at the couch, but he doesn't let himself get too far drawn into it. not here, not now. instead, he merely walks up to eddie and looks at him - really looks at him, right down his nose - before he backs off and lifts both hands. ]
Next time, burnout. Don't let me see your ass haulin' around or I'll ticket you.
[ opening the door to the trailer, gator steps out into the cold bite of the night. kevlar graces his chest as he turns toward the entrance, doorknob in his hand. he stares at eddie, then winks at him. ]
That bullshit better fuckin' stay down after this, alright, Munson? Don't make me come back out here tonight! You ain't gonna like it if I do!
[ and slam goes the door, gator walking back out into the night. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ His tone and grin indicate a joke, but staying truly isn’t an option. It was never an option, and it’s never going to be an option. Despite their alcohol and weed addled minds, they both seem to have arrived at the same conclusion about this situation. They both recognize the risks and the type of bad news it could spell if this little —— were found out by the wrong person. They don’t need to be feeling brave or taking chances here, and this doesn’t need to be a complicated situation.
But it’s kind of already more complicated than Eddie is giving it credit for. If he’d expected anything at all, it was a quick fuck-and-go, because that’s the type of behavior it’s easy to associate with Gator Tillman. Never in a million years did he expect any form of aftercare, any tenderness or sweetness, let alone the two of them pressed close in a small shower washing one another’s backs. Maybe he can thank the weed, but he’s still not sure what to do with this information. It’s novel enough at the moment, but if it becomes a common occurrence, there may well come a time where, no matter what he says, Eddie’s feelings could shift and he won’t want him to leave. And then…well, that would be an enormous problem for everyone involved.
For now, though? For now, that’s not even a seed of worry in the back of his mind. It’s fine. It’s a nice bonus, and it doesn’t have to mean anything because it doesn’t. ]
Tell me about it, man. But, uh, I’m a perfect angel, so…
[ He says as if he didn’t just prove himself the complete opposite only minutes ago. He does keep to his word, though. As he snatches the soaped up washcloth for his own and works it in careful circles along Gator’s spine, his hands don’t wander too far. One does, however, come to rest on his hip, squeezing slightly as he drops kisses along his shoulders. ]
See? Totally innocent.
no subject
gator respects his father, much more than anyone he has surrounding him. his devotion is buried deep within like bodies on the ranch. the fixing place. how many people has gator killed? just because his father said so? would he be next after this? his brows knit, and when eddie puts his hand on his hip - gator doesn't want it to feel so nice, but it does. enough for gator to try to catch his breath. he looks over his shoulder at eddie, tattooed arms still stretched out, water running over his eyelashes. it's a blur, but he can make out eddie, can make out the look on his face. this is bad.
gator turns, taking the washcloth and eddie's waist, both hands occupied. he leans and kisses eddie - really kisses him - mouth open and still choking on secrets. what if eddie found out about the deaths? would he be scared? would it matter? gator is the definition of bad, of the seed that grows rotten without tending. he's wild, an animal, his mind a trap of violence and rage. but in this moment, he kisses eddie with all he has. he bites his bottom lip, pulling it, sucking on the edge before he lets it go. ]
I gotta go.
[ leaning past eddie to turn off the water, they stare at each other, gator's eyes boring. he parts from eddie to open the curtain, then steps out, soaking. he grabs a threadbare towel, rubbing himself down. he has to get out of here, fucked up or not. he'll meander to the nearest gas station, pick up a six pack, then take it home to get closer to the darkness. holed up in his room, the cold of the night biting into him as he drinks alone. that's more like it. he glances at eddie, and there isn't true hatred in his gaze, but there's something keeping him from kissing him again. the need to flee, to retreat. ]
I think you know that.
no subject
Because Eddie has been known to poke the bear. Cops are easy to mess with, especially the specific breed of small town cop he’s the most familiar with. The ones who will haul him downtown only to release him an hour later because they never find anything and fail to follow up on some pretty obvious leads. Gator isn’t that breed of cop. He’s something darker all together, but Eddie has still never been able to help himself, and the two of them managed to entwine themselves together long before this evening’s events. Eddie sells, Gator uses, and neither can out the other without sacrificing themself as well. They’ve just twisted themselves more tightly together now, adding a second layer to this whole fucked up ordeal.
Eddie is quite certain he’ll be able to untangle himself from Gator, though, if it should come to that. He’s sure he’ll know when to pull back before he digs too deep of a hole for himself. He’s sure, and he can only hope that he’s not wrong, because that kiss sets him on fire, more so than all the ones before it. It’s intense and leaves him wanting for more of something that he knows he can’t have right now. It’s enough to nearly makes him doubt his ability or desire to ever put an end to this. Fuck, this is bad, this is terrifying, actually, and that seed of doubt threatens to germinate once more—
But they part, and just like that, their time is up, and worrying isn’t worth the effort. Eddie reaches for a towel to begin squeezing the water from his dripping hair, wraps the towel around his waist, and carefully slips by the other man to collect fresh clothing from his chaotic dragon’s hoard of a bedroom. ]
I’m not stopping you, man.
[ And he doesn’t. He doesn’t try to reach for him, utters no word to slow him, and when they separate, he makes no move to close the space between them once more. He gets it. Gator has already stayed longer than intended. Any longer and it will look even more suspicious than it already does. They both know that this is how it needs to be.
He emerges moments later, right back in his typical band t-shirt uniform, and leans against the door frame to eye him, arms crossed and head tilted, expression unreadable despite the smile on his mouth. ]
I’ll see you next time, deputy.
no subject
it was good, gator knows that, and he also knows he'll be back for more of it. drugs, sex, rock and roll. the led zeppelin record is skipping in the living room, long since forgotten by both of them in their sex-induced shower. gator gazes at eddie before he slicks his hair back with his hands. he's still wet, but he'll be dry by the time he pulls up at the ranch. that's what matters here. ]
I ain't sayin' you are.
[ gator throws eddie a sarcastic smile, closed-lipped, before he reaches down for his clothes. he hitches his pants up moments later, gun on his thigh as he adjusts his belt. boots are on, ballcap's back on, and he looks good as new. the stink of sex has cleared out, nothing but remnants of weed and beer where a hard fuck happened. gator licks his lips, looking down at the couch, but he doesn't let himself get too far drawn into it. not here, not now. instead, he merely walks up to eddie and looks at him - really looks at him, right down his nose - before he backs off and lifts both hands. ]
Next time, burnout. Don't let me see your ass haulin' around or I'll ticket you.
[ opening the door to the trailer, gator steps out into the cold bite of the night. kevlar graces his chest as he turns toward the entrance, doorknob in his hand. he stares at eddie, then winks at him. ]
That bullshit better fuckin' stay down after this, alright, Munson? Don't make me come back out here tonight! You ain't gonna like it if I do!
[ and slam goes the door, gator walking back out into the night. ]