( The uncomfortable lingering call of the liquor on the table was still loud in his mind. He had to keep his hands busy, and he needed to keep his mind busy. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ... Hank closes his eyes, and he lifts Connor's hand up again to his face. It's not enough to count, to talk, to breathe - he needs that oral fixation. )
No, baby... let me.. ( His body vibrates, his temple beaded with sweat, and his mouth takes to Connor's fingers again. Slipping each one in between his lips. His other hand is clenching on the back of Connor's shirt, so tightly, that his knuckles are white. )
no subject
No, baby... let me.. ( His body vibrates, his temple beaded with sweat, and his mouth takes to Connor's fingers again. Slipping each one in between his lips. His other hand is clenching on the back of Connor's shirt, so tightly, that his knuckles are white. )