#spookysituation

17 - rain kiss.

   it’s pissing rain in los santos and they’re stowed away in some shithole motel,   the one bitching about the weather and the other seriously considering   drowning him in the nearest puddle. not even the nice kind of rain — the kind   that’s warm, the kind that makes it feel as if the air itself is clinging to the skin,   the kind that reminds people like the two of them of BLOOD.

   and constantine may be laughing behind his hand at trevor, the great griping   pissbaby. can run an entire bloody criminal operation, can’t stand a bit of rain   spoiling his skies. it’s adorable, in a way. though that could also be the close   quarters, slowly driving him MAD. but then, trevor grows on a bloke. bit scary,   that idea, but it’s true. there’s a reason ron and the lot of them follow him   about. he’s a cunt, but somehow you get to love him.

   unless he won’t SHUT THE FUCK UP about the rain. big pouting git.

                                   “ — oi, trev. “

   and a stubbled mouth rasps across that of the criminal, a wicked grin tugging   at the corners of his lips as he pulls back a minute later, hovering mere inches   away — just enough that hot, whiskey-laced breath mingles with the frosted   clouds issued from the other man’s lips. he teases, darts eyes suggestively   downwards, and quirks an eyebrow mischievously.

untag the actual tag itself and then retag it?

it’s not legally fucking if you do not penetrate.