"I can take care of them, you know," Roy says, brushing his thumb over the bruise on Tim's cheek. He still can't get over how fucking pretty he is, still wants to know what the fuck happened to put him here, living on the street, selling himself for money, but he doesn't feel right asking, and Tim's exactly not the sharing type. Besides, he's got demons of his own and that's not exactly why he's here.
"Don't worry about it," Tim smiles and climbs on top of Roy, wraps his hand around his dick. "Just let me make you feel good, okay?"
And well, Roy can't argue with that.
***
Two days later Roy hears about it on the police scanner, exact description of the guy he saw trying to throw Tim around a few nights before.
Dead. Every finger on each hand broken.
"So what happened to that guy?" Roy asks the next time he sees him and Tim just shakes his head, puts his fingers to Roy's lip.
"Shh," he smiles, settling down between Roy's thighs. "Don't worry about it."
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timeasmymeasure
filled
Date: 2015-09-11 02:21 am (UTC)"Don't worry about it," Tim smiles and climbs on top of Roy, wraps his hand around his dick. "Just let me make you feel good, okay?"
And well, Roy can't argue with that.
***
Two days later Roy hears about it on the police scanner, exact description of the guy he saw trying to throw Tim around a few nights before.
Dead. Every finger on each hand broken.
"So what happened to that guy?" Roy asks the next time he sees him and Tim just shakes his head, puts his fingers to Roy's lip.
"Shh," he smiles, settling down between Roy's thighs. "Don't worry about it."