#ratwritesmasky

"FUCK! MOVE!" Masky roars, swinging a plank of wood in your direction.

A blur of white, a crashing, and suddenly you're slammed into the filthy wooden floor. You couldn't have known it was there, couldn't have seen it coming. You can't even see it now, as it scrambles over-top you and begins screeching.

"Whatthefuck- Tim!" You scream, trying desperately to push the thing off of you. You catch sight of a gnarled, clawed hand, and then it's ripped off of you in a blur.

Masky grunts as he lands with a loud clatter against a row of rotting pews, one fist gripping the thing by its throat while the other lands blows against its' face. The creature claws at his shoulder, pulling a shout from the brawny man.

You pull yourself up, barely coherent as you dart forward and slam yourself into the thing. You fumble for your belt, where you know your knife is, but it's already peeling away from the two of you and galloping out of a broken window.

"What the fuck?! What the fuck was that?" You sputter, chest heaving almost in time with your pounding heart.

Masky is silent for a beat, trying to catch his breath between wet coughs.

"I don't- motherfucker got me!" He hisses, pressing a hand to the fabric beginning to soak through with crimson ire.

"Tim," you begin, reaching forward. He glances at your hand before glancing to the door, swallowing his pained expression with a deep inhale.

"We need to leave, now. Grab your shit." He grunts, turning to walk out.

You open your mouth to speak again, but he repeats himself. "Now. Before that fucking thing comes back."

You can do nothing but scoff as you collect your bag and follow him out the chapel doors, sulking down the path to lick your wounds in his car.

Everything that could go wrong on a mission had gone wrong.You should have known the day was going to sour and fizzle off into another regretful mission when you woke up with a splitting headache and a sore throat that hadn't faded with the countless glasses of water you chugged down.

"Recon," Tim had said, "scoutin' for a new hole to hide in."

You couldn't argue with Slenderman. Not even when he chose you to head out with Tim instead of Brian, Toby, or anyone else you thought could handle an outing better than you.

Now, nearly eight hours later, you're stuck in the same car you left in. Tim stands outside the open hood, hands bracing himself against the rain-slicked metal.

Every now and again you heard him curse and knock something around, speaking in a hushed tone to himself. Your signal had cut out miles ago, and the dark sky outside was nonetheless comforting to your situation.

You're pulled from your thoughts when the hood slams shut, sending droplets of rain splattering across the windshield. The driver side door creaks open and in slides Tim, peeling off his soaked jacket and tossing it into the floorboard of the backseat.

"Any luck?" You try, though you know the answer by his demeanor.

He doesn't respond, instead busying himself with fishing a half-smooshed pack of cigarettes from his front pocket.

"Right." You mumble, tiredly exhaling.

"You know, if Brian were here he'd damn sure get this piece of shit started up again."

You furrow your brows, glancing sideways at him. Tim cracks his door, extending a boot outwards to keep it open as he flips his lighter.

"I'm sure he would." You mutter, leaning your chin against the palm of your hand.

The smell of cigarette smoke permeates through your nostrils, leaving a sour taste in your throat. Outside, the rain barrels down harder. Clouds pass over the moon, blocking the light and leaving the empty stretch of road to be illuminated by scarce starlight. The 'recon' you'd been assigned to had been a bust. In the area you were sent to look, a couple hours from the mansion, stood what looked to be an old church in shambles. The only thing of value left inside was an old radio, surrounded by ruined furniture and sloping walls that looked as if they were melting. It would have been decent, you think, if it weren't for the fact that you were attacked. Neither of you knew who— or what, for that matter, was there, but it certainly was powerful enough to knock you off your feet and leave Tim with a small gash across his shoulder. At the thought, you speak.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Fine." He answers, too quick. He takes another long pull from his cigarette, and when he pulls it away from his mouth you see how hard he's been biting the bud.

"What was that thing back there?"

Tim takes another thoughtful drag before throwing the bud out the door, slamming it shut.

"Don't you think I would have told you if I knew?" His words are pointed, tone sharp.

"No reason to take it out on me, dude."

"You know, I don't even know why you were allowed to come in the first place."

The words hit you like a brick, breath caught in your throat.

"Even Toby could have handled that. Brian could have- matter of fact, literally anyone else could have taken that." His tone is steady, though his voice rises with a high inflection.

You've heard enough. You kick your foot into the floorboard as you wrench your door open, stepping into the cool night-air with a huff. The door slams shut behind you, and inside the car you hear a smack against the dashboard. Tim was intense, Tim could be a dick, but fuck. If you didn't think you were friends, or atleast something more than acquaintances you'd have taken it in stride.

You stare into the dark line of trees ahead of you and grit your teeth, contemplating if you should walk away and take a breather or not. The rain has thinned out into a light drizzle, tapping gently against your hair and shoulders. The driver's side door opens and then slams shut, heavy footfall thumping in a line behind you before Tim enters your peripheral.

"You know damn well it's true. Don't act all bratty with me just because you cant handle someone telling you the truth." He spits, rounding the hood until he's standing directly beside you.

You turn to face him, scowling. "How the fuck was I supposed to know any of that would happen?”

"I tell you- we tell you every time we're out to pay attention." He punctuates the words with a poke to your shoulder. "All you had to do was keep an eye out, yeah? And you couldn't do that?"

"You're just mad that your boyfriend couldn't come with you. I didn't do shit wrong, Tim, and you know that. What's your deal? Huh? What did I do to you?"

Tim scoffs, giving you an incredulous laugh. "Unbelievable."

"No, I'm being serious. What's your issue with me?" You step closer, eye-level with the stout figure in front of you.

"Ain't no issue with you, is there? Naw, you're just perfect, ain't you?" His lips twitch, chin tilting to the side.

Tim's attitude is confusing you. Just the other night, you and Brian were sitting on the back porch with Tim sharing a 6-pack, reminiscing on times before you wound up under the same roof.

"You're fucked up." You hiss, clenching your fists. "Want me to have eyes on the back of my head? An- I don't even know what, jumps on me and you expect me to be ready for it?"

"Nothin' going on in that pretty head, huh?"

You narrow your eyes and purse your lips, ready to spit in his stupid face or dig your fingers into his wrapped wound.

"You- you fucking-" You're so mad you can barely think, fighting the urge to wrench your hand in his hair and punch him square in his jaw.

Like you could ever win that battle.

"Can't even talk right. Can you do anything right?" Tim's lips split into a smug little smile, and for a second you catch as his eyes flick to your lips before landing back on your eyes.

"I hate you." You seethe, feeling as your teeth squeak together at the pressure you apply.

"I'm sure you do." It's his turn to narrow his eyes, chest puffing as he steps closer. The space between you suddenly grows smaller, your chest nearly grazing against his. You notice it fast, the red dusting his cheeks and the flush in his neck. His chest rises and lowers in a deep motion, nostrils flared in heavy exhales.

"You're annoying. You're so fucking annoying." Is all you can manage, suddenly aware of just how close he is to you. Tim takes note of your faltering expression, his gaze dropping to your chest in the same manner you did only seconds ago. Suddenly, he snatches himself away as if an invisible force rips him backwards. His demeanor hardens, smile dropping into a scowl, bushy brows turning downwards until his face is pinched into a bitter expression.

"Says you. I don't have time for this shit." He scathes, turning on his heel.

You barely register the words before they're out of your mouth. "Yeah, I'm sure you don't, shortstack."

It's as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Tim wrenches himself backwards immediately, turning his body like the snap of a branch. You step backwards, the color drained from your face at his deathly look. His eyes are dark, mouth twisted into a snarl. If looks could kill, you'd be dead right where you stand.

His hand shoots out and snatches your wrist, the pressure nearly crushing the fragile bones in his grip. He yanks you forward until you're nearly standing on his dirty boots, nose nearly touching his. Your stomach twists into something nasty, disgusting as fear blossoms in the base of your spine and petals upwards to your chest.

"Don't. Fucking. Call me that." He growls through gritted teeth, his hair falling messily in a way over his eyes that they look impossibly darker.

You take in quick, sharp breaths, blinking rapidly as you scan his face. His thumb presses into the veins on your wrist, hold faltering ever so slightly. You can't think, you have to say something—

He stands completely still, his blown pupils never leaving yours.

You don't know why you say it, but the minute the words leave your parted lips you want to curl in on yourself and stay there.

"O-or what? You gonna hurt me, shortstack?"

He's on you immediately, wrenching a hand in your shirt and snatching you up until you're hovering off the floor. The impossible show of strength is uncomprehendable to you, until he takes it a step further and whips you around until your back is slammed into the car. He's so close that you can feel the heavy puffs of air pushing out of his nose and fanning your neck. Your wide eyes are unfocused on the tree line, his hair and shoulder bordering your vision as he presses himself into your ear and huffs.

"You just don't know when to stop, d'ya?"

"Tim- I'm-" You stammer, pressing your hands against his chest, shoulders, neck, anywhere you can get a grip. He lets out a low grunt when you brush over his wound, and presses a knee between your thighs to brace himself against the car and your body. You gasp, nearly squealing, fingers digging into his shoulder and neck.

"You gotta lot of nerve. Testin' me something fierce. Seems like you want me to hurt'cha. That right?" He releases his grip on your shirt, but never lets go of the fabric, only allowing you to sink low until you're forced to sit over his knee and stand on the tips of your toes.

You gape at him, unable to form a sentence. The situation is shocking, nearly unbelievable. You try your best not to put weight on his leg, but it's nearly impossible at the height he's got you moved to.

"Answer me." He grunts, pulling you off the car slightly by the collar of your shirt before bouncing you off it. You let out an 'oomph!' as the air escapes your chest, and quickly scramble to answer.

"No! Tim, let me go-!" You claw at his hand, but it remains unmoving. "This is-"

"No? Naw, I don't think so. I told you not to say it, and you did anyway. I think you want this, dolly. Want me to get it into your empty fucking head that you need to listen." He hisses, pulling you close to his face until your noses bump.

Oh fuck. He's gonna beat your fucking ass.

Tim straightens out his knee and lets your legs buckle, but never allows you to fall with the hold he has on your shirt. You push off the car, trying to stand up straight, but he steers you like a ragdoll to the side and snatches open the backseat.

"Watch your head." Is the only warning he gives before he shoves you inside, knocking you flat on your back. He pushes the heap of your legs dangling from the car into the seat, climbing overtop you and slamming the door behind himself. His weight knocks the air out of you, pressing into your stomach until your lungs can take in nothing. Your heart is beating so fast it hurts, chest squeezing painfully as your body tries to keep up with the motions.

"O-okay, okay! I'll listen, Tim, I swear-"

"Yeah, you'll fuckin' listen." He chortles, scooping his hands under your shoulders and manhandling you until your head is slammed against the glass of the opposite door. You're both too big for the backseat, but Tim uses the space in the best way possible. One of his legs boxes both of yours against the backseat, the other straddling your knees and forcing you to curl them to your chest. He forces himself between them, leaning inwards so they're braced under his arms and his pecs are pressing into your inner thigh.

He doesn't give you time to speak as he wrenches a hand in your hair and pulls you into his face, teeth clacking painfully together as his lips clash with yours in a heavy, angry kiss.

You whine into his mouth, your hands coming to brace yourself against his broad chest. His fingers falter in your hair, easing his grip into something like a heavy-handed caress. His lips move against yours in a battle, sucking your lips between his teeth like he's trying to subdue them. You breath in desperate inhales through your mouth as best you can, the car filled with wet smacks and heady breaths. Tim moves a hand from the seat to press into the back of your knee, sliding it upwards until it just about rests on his injured shoulder before pressing it up over the headrest. You feel the stretch in your thigh, the muscle twitching with exertion. At the new space his hips move instantly, slamming into your pelvis until the button of your jeans clacks against his.

The pressure is immediate. He's painfully hard in his jeans, the fabric doing nothing to shield the imprint as it rubs over your groin. You gasp into the kiss, mouth widening, and he tilts his head and presses you harder against the window as his tongue invades the new space.

You suck on the wet muscle, your tongue glancing against his. You can feel the spit gathering against your cheeks and his chin, little moans and grunts pouring so vigorously from your mouth that you're not sure if they're his or yours.

Tim pulls himself off you with reluctance.

"Fuck. You shouldn't have…you're making me do this."

"What?" You pant, head spinning.

"I'm so sick of you. Always with the questions, never understanding anything you're told. You never, ever listen. Now look what's happening."

You swallow thickly, your mind so scrambled it brings tears to your eyes. "Y-yeah, yeah I'm—" you don't even know what you're saying, doomed to whatever space Tim has pushed you into. "Can't help it, Tim."

"We're gonna fix that."

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as he grinds his hips painfully against yours.

"Take off your pants." His voice booms over you, your back sinking down until only the crown of your head touches the glass. It's uncomfortable, the hard plastic of the door digging into your spine and neck. You try to reach for your button, but your arm is at such an awkward angle between your body and the seat you struggle. Your other arm is bracing against the back of the drivers seat, holding yourself up from sliding into the floorboard.

Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Can't even do the first thing I ask you."

You whine, trying to push yourself up and on your elbow.

"Fine." He grunts, rough hands flying to your zipper. The rough fabric pinches against your sensitive skin as he grapples with it, pulling it up to your knees and shoving them downwards until they bunch at your ankle. It hurts, the angle he's contorted you in, and you can't help but whine. At the sound, he smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"All you do is whine."

He presses your legs back down, all the way up to your chest. Your face grows hot, like you've stuck it in a fire. Your panties are tacky against your cunt, exposed to the stuffy air of the car. You press your eyes shut as Tim's hand comes to squeeze the skin of your thigh right beside your pussy, his head tilting to inspect the newly exposed skin.

"Shit…you're really into this, ain't'cha? Fuckin' soaked…" He grumbles, pressing a thumb against your clit as his palm rests on your mons. Then, he pulls his hand away just as quick as it landed there. You yelp as his hand lands across your ass, leaving goosebumps sprawling across your skin.

"Open your eyes." He commands, and you follow, brows pinched upwards in shame.

"Don't look away from me. Understand?" He grunts, raising his brows expectantly. You nod, hair getting pinched by the doorhandle.

You find it hard to follow his command when he pulls out his cock, laying the heavy thing on top of your cunt. You can't stop your eyes as they flick to it, briefly, but enough to make out the wide, dripping head of his angry shaft. It's as big as the rest of him, just as you imagined. Wide, intimidating, heavy.

A slap lands across your cheek, ripping a yelp from your throat.

"I said look at me. Don't be stupid." His dark eyes narrow, frown twitching as he stares down at you. It's then you notice his angle, his large frame hunched over you to keep you bunched in a tangle between him and the seat. You can't believe this is happening, can't believe that Tim is sliding his dick over your panties and making you take it.

The head of his cock nudges against your clit, and your hips jerk up uncontrollably to chase the friction. Your eyelids flutter as he pumps against you, and even though he's touching you through the thin fabric of your underwear, it feels better than anything your finger could ever do. He exhales roughly into the air, chest rumbling in what almost sounds like a purr. Your cunt pulses around nothing, clit twitching in desperation to get more, more, anything that he can give, you want to take. Tim doesn't look away from your eyes, your face, and you don't dare try to look away from his. His face, however stoic he may try to keep it, falters when he slides his length fully flush between his hand and your clothed slit.

The realization that he's bigger than he looks dwindles in the forefront of your mind as he grabs the crotch of your panties and slides them to the side, revealing your weeping cunt to the air.

"Oh, fuck…" He whispers, but you don't think you were meant to hear it. Your body flushes with the knowledge that you're exposed, fully exposed to Tim and there's nothing you can do about it. As if hearing your thoughts, Tim stretches your legs open further until your pussy parts at the seam and cold air invades the wet flesh.

"Wait-!" You start, but Tim makes a noise like one would give to a misbehaving puppy.

"None of that. Did I say look away?"

You shake your head, lips quivering. The muscles in your face twitch as he scans your expression, his eyes softening as if observing a masterpiece. Thoughtfully, he looks downwards to where your hips meet his jeans. You sniffle a little, internally cursing yourself for the pitiful way he makes you feel.

His clammy palms knead the flesh of your thigh in their descent to where you need them most, fingertips ghosting over the sensitive area above your clit. You gasp when his middle finger slides over the hood of your clit, roughly circling the turgid bud.

Your spine snaps at the contact, bowing your back off the seat, hips rolling to meet his hand.

"Oh! Fff-uck- Tim-" You mewl, hands clenching into tight fists as he rubs your clit in tight circles.

"Yeah? You like that?" He drawls.

"Yea-ah, yeah," you suck in a hiccuping breath, bending your head to face him as your thighs twitch and jerk against his ribs.

"You want me to keep going?" His voice is soft, surprisingly gentle in the face of his demeanor. He keens forward, curling over your torso to hover his face above yours. He drops his hand from your leg, tracing it upwards until it rests loosely around your neck while his other hand continues to finger you.

"Yes, please." You nod, voice shaky and small.

"Yeah?" His hand squeezes your throat, lightly at first, then tight. Too tight.

Your eyes widen, lips parting. His hair falls across his brow, face fallen flat in a mix of focus and distant frustration. His hand slips from your clit to the tight ring of muscle at your entrance.

"Then you need to fucking listen." He pushes his middle and index finger inside you without a second thought, lips curled into a snarl as his hand tightens further around your throat. You let out a choked sound, and his eyes fall to your reddening lips. His fingers fuck into you harshly, rough fingerpands scraping against the pliant, soft flesh.

"I gave you one fucking thing to do. What was it? Huh?"

You can't speak. Even if his hand wasn't around your windpipe, squeezing it shut until you can barely get a breath in, the pressure of his fingers pumping into you like a machine knock the oxygen from your lungs. His legs shift against you, pressing tighter against your hips, forcing you to feel how hard he is against you.

"Can't even answer. Dumbass." He huffs. You almost cry when he rubs his thumb over your swollen pearl, fingers curling so deep inside of you that it touches a spot you didn't know you had. It burns, the girth of his fingers, and the thought crosses your mind that you wouldn't be able to fit his girth if you couldn't take his fingers. Your vision grows fuzzy in the sides of your eyes, yet you do your best to focus on his face. Beads of sweat dot his brow, red tongue darting to wet his lips, vein of his neck bulging beside his bobbing adam's apple. The nibbling fear that he wasn't letting go begins to grow, your muscles tensing around his hips and fingers.

"All you had to fucking do was keep your eyes on me. I barely touch you, and you forget that?"

He releases your neck, and your chest expands with an uproar of oxygen. Tears spill down your cheeks, your chest heaving with rough, wet coughs.

Tim pulls his fingers out of you, smearing your slick across your lower belly.

"F-fuck you!" You pant, little hiccups and sniffles pouring from your lips as you glare up at him.

Tim raises his brows, straightening himself over you. Wordlessly, he lifts you up until your legs are over his shoulders, hissing through the pain as he drops your weight over them. Your ass hovers over the seat, backs of your legs pressed flush into him. He watches your face, never looking away even as he pumps himself over your cunt.

His hands come to hold your hips, relinquishing some of the weight from his shoulders as he pulls you upwards. You realize when the thick head of his cock taps against your ass what's happening.

Your eyes grow wider, hands coming to grip at his stomach. You're not ready, you cant take him.

"Don't forget, you asked for this."

Tim punches the air from your legs as he splits you open, the stretch burning through your body unlike anything you've ever felt. Electricity zips through your spine, snapping your back like a bow before curling you in on yourself. You jerk, squirm, anything to get away from the overwhelming burn between your legs. You wail as he presses deeper, clapping a hand over your mouth as your hips snap down and your head falls limply to the fabric beneath you. His meaty hands pull you down on his fat cock, his body bending over you in a way that nearly folds you in half.

He sinks all the way in, inch by painful inch, a broken moan spilling from his mouth.

"No, no, move your hand." He rasps, his breath dusting over your face. You nod, limply, whimpering quietly as he brings a hand to brace himself beside your head.

"What happened to that big mouth, huh?" His hips snap into yours, his v-line flush against your skin. He's deep, so fucking deep, you can feel his pulse against your walls. It hurts, it's too much, it's-

He taps your cheek, coming to grip your jaw. Tim pulls your face forward, forcing you to face him. He presses his lips to yours, not quite kissing you yet. He drags his cock out of you slowly, until only the tip remains. You moan unabashedly, eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets.

"You-s’n-no con..condom! Fuck-"

He shakes his head, smiling a little to himself. "Not like you care."

Tim slams into you, pulling you up by your hips so that you meet his.

"Oh fuck! Fuck-" You cry, nails digging into his biceps. Tim grunts through his teeth, bending his head to watch where his girth slips into your wet cunt.

"Shit, you should see how you suck me in."

"I can't, it-! Feels so..so good, Tim s'good-" You babble, head lolling uncontrollably.

"Yeah, yeah." He whispers, pistoning in an out of your pussy like he was mad at it. "Tell me about it."

You sob, clamping around him like a vice. He punches into you rough, and you feel like you're heart will come out of your chest. You ball your fist against his shirt, your body squirming uncontrollably beneath him as he continues his brutal assault. If Tim is trying to stay silent, he's not doing a good job.

Grunts, small moans, and curses billow from him, his hands gripping so tightly into the soft skin of your hips you're afraid he'll break the flesh. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you're aware that you're fucking Masky in the back of his car on the side of a road.

The seat creaks beneath as he pounds into you, barely audible with the mix of your cries, Tim's moans, and the nasty slapping of skin against skin.

"Hear how wet you are? How long have you- fuck- wanted this? Wanted me to fuck you?"

Your brain stopped stringing thoughts together the minute he slid his dick into you. You lift your head up, clacking your forehead against his.

"L-long time. Realllly lo-long time." You squeak, heels digging into Tim's back. He slams into you again, lifting your hips, and kisses your cervix. You yelp, clawing at his arms as he fucks into you like it was his purpose.

"Yeah?" He responds, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

His hand slips down to where your bodies meet, fingers dancing around your stuffed hole.

"You're real tight, know that? Takin' me all in, made f'me." He huffs, fingers coming to lazily and roughly rub at your sensitive clit.

In a devastating blow, Tim reels back and spits on your ruined cunt. It's all it takes to send you over.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, ripping sobs and shaky little moans from your spent body. Horrifyingly, Tim keeps going.

"Comin' on my cock like a fuckin' slut." He drawls.

He fucks you through it, prodding at your clit as you convulse around him.

You try to stop the sounds forced out of you, but you can't.

"Please! Oh, fuck-pleasepleaseplease-"

"Stop complaining." He spits, ripping his hand from your clit to your throat. He squeezes, thumb pressed hard against your windpipe, and your eyes roll back.

Tim fucks all his weight into you, the feeling unbelievable. Your mind teeters on the edge of collapse, the pleasure nearly unbearable as it slinks onto the line of pain.

"All your good for. Takin' my cock, yeah? Can't listen for shit, but sure can beg for it."

Tim's hips falter, his grip tighter, eyelids fluttering shut.

It's all too much, now, you don't think you can take it anymore. You can't catch your breath, he's so deep you think he's actually in your guts, and Tim's weight is the only thing keeping you grounded.

"'M sorry! 'm s-sorry…T-Tim- can't..'m-"

"Oh, you're sorry? For almost gettin' us killed, callin' me names?"

You nod frantically, hopeful that your apology will let him off you and give you room to breathe.

He hums, thoughtfully, slowing his hips to a slow roll against your puffy cunt.

"Such a brat." He whispers, taking his hand from your hip to wipe away the tears pooling at your lips. His gaze softens momentarily, watching as your wet eyes search his and your swollen lips tremble.

Then, he pulls himself out, thumb on your neck rubbing comfortingly across your heartbeat.

Tim slams into your cunt, fucking you so violently it makes you nauseous. His eyes are glazed over, hand hooked around your throat squeezing so hard you can't breathe. He leans down to your ear, all the while punching vigorously into you, and whispers against the shell of your ear.

"I know you're sorry. I don't think I care." He bites at your jaw, pummeling into your so hard you think it'll bruise.

You're going to pass out. Your vision is hazy, your head is pounding, and you can do nothing to stop it. Fuck, you're close again.

Tim grunts something, your legs flailing pitifully around his wide torso. He releases your neck, instead turning his hand to squeeze the very base of the muscle so that you can get a few breaths in. You sputter and gag, sobbing into his shoulder.

"Take it, take it all. Fuck-" He growls, hips stuttering as he grows still. He spills into you, painting your insides with his seed before collapsing fully on top of you.

He pets your hair as you cry, trying to catch your breath. After your tears titter off into quiet, swallowed whimpers, he peels himself off you.

"'M sorry." He offers, rubbing a thumb over your red, puffy cheeks. "You did so good f'me." Tim presses a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, and finally your lips.

"You're rough." You sniffle, bringing a hand to rub his sweaty face.

"I know. I'm sorry."

He stands, rolling his shoulders. The wound secretes fresh blood, earning a shallow sigh from Tim. You sit up, pulling your underwear from around your ankle back to its right position.

"Are you okay? You're bleeding."

Tim nods, silently maneuvers around the console and into the front seat, digging through the glove box to pull out a handful of diner napkins. He pats down your face and your inner thighs, offering a quiet apology when you hiss.

"Does your shoulder hurt?"

"Nah, barely deep. Didn't wanna stop s'all."

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the rain returning and pattering down gently on the roof. When the silence is finally broken, it's by Tim.

"I'm sure Brian'll show up in the mornin." He drawls, running a hand through his hair. "We don't- um, have to do this again. If you don't wanna."

You smile at the floorboard, shy despite already having been wrecked.

"No, I wanna. If you wanna."

"I wanna." He smiles, reaching a hand behind the seat to rub your knee.