Graves was hours from anywhere useful, the snow was falling heavier, covering everything around his, and his damn truck decided that this was the best time to give out. He doesn't know what's wrong and he's sure no tow company is up right now. If he could even get service. There's just trees and a long road that is getting buried in this damn blizzard. Just his luck.
Hes there for a good hour, popping his hood as if he knows a damn about cars, pacing up the street to search for service, just to repeat when it doesn't magically work the 3rd time.
Two bright headlights might as well have been heaven gates, he jumps up, waving his arms and shouting.
The car slows, rolls down its window.
Reader looks him over,
"Yer car broke down?"
The blonde nods, "damn thing been giving me shit for weeks, I thought I'd make it home atleast."
The man takes a look at it, deems he'll need to get it to the shop,
"Too late to call anyone, you could stay at mine, we'll come back in the morning for your car."
He agrees. Too trusting, too nice. He'd offer the same so why wouldn't he accept?
The man gives him dinner and a blanket on the couch.
He's woken up by the feeling of something deep inside him. His hole stretched thin and fluttering around the intrusion.
