Billy doesn't answer. He doesn't even seem to hear. He's too focused on getting his own pants situated. He moved with a sort of lethargy that contentment breeds, wanting to linger there and enjoy every moment of it. Slowly, he reached over to assist Mike. Not to free him, but to push his pants back up into place, more or less. His fingers trailed over the other's hips, as if considering doing more. Reluctant to let this one go. He fought so very hard...
Finally, Billy pulled himself away. He shoved open his door and slipped out of the truck. He slammed it shut behind him. He took his time crossing around the front of the truck, his gaze fixed on the windshield the whole time even though it was too dark to see through it. Coming around to Mike's side of the truck, he pulled the knife from his pocket, flipping it open. To have it ready.
He yanked open the door. Hard. Not seeming to worry if the jolt or shock of being dragged by his hands hurt the other. He pulled it open far enough that Mike was hauled completely from the truck, to the gravel they parked on. And for a moment, Billy just stood there. One hand on the the door, the other holding the knife, watching Mike.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-07-27 01:53 am (UTC)Finally, Billy pulled himself away. He shoved open his door and slipped out of the truck. He slammed it shut behind him. He took his time crossing around the front of the truck, his gaze fixed on the windshield the whole time even though it was too dark to see through it. Coming around to Mike's side of the truck, he pulled the knife from his pocket, flipping it open. To have it ready.
He yanked open the door. Hard. Not seeming to worry if the jolt or shock of being dragged by his hands hurt the other. He pulled it open far enough that Mike was hauled completely from the truck, to the gravel they parked on. And for a moment, Billy just stood there. One hand on the the door, the other holding the knife, watching Mike.