[ it isn't a home, far from it. the tillman ranch is a prison, designed beautifully and comfortably for anyone within its walls. at least, that's what they like to think. for billy, gator can't imagine it, won't. in gator's mind, billy should be thankful they live in domestic bliss, their every need tended to by roy's wives as they lay up and fuck. nothing is more perfect than that.
however, when billy squeezes gator's hand - that comes close. so, so close.
gator lowers the tailgate of the truck, pulling a basket and a cooler out with both arms. he shifts their weight, following billy out between the trees. he smiles at him, one eye closed against the sunshine, then laughs. it's a sweet sound, airy, a giggle that turns his cheeks pink. he isn't a bad dog. ]
Surprises, huh? Go on, you ain't seen what's in these. Pick a place, babygirl. Anywhere you fuckin' want.
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however, when billy squeezes gator's hand - that comes close. so, so close.
gator lowers the tailgate of the truck, pulling a basket and a cooler out with both arms. he shifts their weight, following billy out between the trees. he smiles at him, one eye closed against the sunshine, then laughs. it's a sweet sound, airy, a giggle that turns his cheeks pink. he isn't a bad dog. ]
Surprises, huh? Go on, you ain't seen what's in these. Pick a place, babygirl. Anywhere you fuckin' want.