[ John's still angry too, hates that implicit accusation, that he left them, like it was something he chose. But there's more important shit right now: Danny's muscle and ink, the gore of him, the idle way he shakes his hand out - hm.
John takes it, grabs that wrist out of the air and studies it. Rush job. Sloppy. He should know better than to sheathe a knife chipped; he smooths his thumb over the greenish vein, taps it on a flare of ink near the wristband, and heals it up properly, brow furrowing briefly in concentration.
One injury fixed and he can start a new one fresh; he'd joked but he's kind of hot for the idea of Danny on his back with his legs folded up over him, slut hole exposed so he can drop his own cock down his throat. He'll take the opposite rib. His baby gives twice as much as Adam ever did.
There's something else he should ask about but he's pretty sure if he did he'd just white out again and flay Danny's whole chest fatally open, so it's better to pretend he doesn't see any difference in his heart and focus a little down and to the left instead. ]
You're mine.
[ Certain of it. Fond. He hadn't left Danny a note because what the fuck did Danny need to hear from him? John expects him to simply know without being told. Protect my interests. Take care of your family. I'm not here but you are, and that's the same as if I was here, because you're my voice, my knife, my son. He slips his fingers lovingly into Danny's side, parting slick muscle. Thumbs the top of this brand new slit like he's fingering a pussy, but this time there's no corresponding pleasure, no new nerves grown like a prostate, just a violation of meat where there shouldn't be and John reaching for the bone. ]
no subject
John takes it, grabs that wrist out of the air and studies it. Rush job. Sloppy. He should know better than to sheathe a knife chipped; he smooths his thumb over the greenish vein, taps it on a flare of ink near the wristband, and heals it up properly, brow furrowing briefly in concentration.
One injury fixed and he can start a new one fresh; he'd joked but he's kind of hot for the idea of Danny on his back with his legs folded up over him, slut hole exposed so he can drop his own cock down his throat. He'll take the opposite rib. His baby gives twice as much as Adam ever did.
There's something else he should ask about but he's pretty sure if he did he'd just white out again and flay Danny's whole chest fatally open, so it's better to pretend he doesn't see any difference in his heart and focus a little down and to the left instead. ]
You're mine.
[ Certain of it. Fond. He hadn't left Danny a note because what the fuck did Danny need to hear from him? John expects him to simply know without being told. Protect my interests. Take care of your family. I'm not here but you are, and that's the same as if I was here, because you're my voice, my knife, my son. He slips his fingers lovingly into Danny's side, parting slick muscle. Thumbs the top of this brand new slit like he's fingering a pussy, but this time there's no corresponding pleasure, no new nerves grown like a prostate, just a violation of meat where there shouldn't be and John reaching for the bone. ]