2015-04-15 2:11:33 ¶ ● ⬀ ⬈

jackofakind:

> He should have picked up on the tension, but he was too busy trying to chase the headache away. If it was the source of this heat and the complaining then he just wanted to banish it.

> When his hand was grabbed Tim still made a curious noise, about to ask what the other was up too–except then he was bitten and he yelled. “Ow! Jack stop!” It was a miracle he didn’t use his grip in the man’s hair to yank his head back in an attempt to free himself. Instead he leaned closer, teeth set against the pain. “Boss please. Why are you–please that hurts.”

> Would the pleading help? Probably not. Timothy did steel himself for more pain, his mind racing to something as far as broken bones if the guy was in a bad enough mood. Perhaps this was just Jack’s way of making him suffer, and since he couldn’t inflict the same migraine he had to apply the agony somewhere else.

Jack releases him, licking the salt and blood from his lips. The fit of rage dissipates as quickly as it came, and it leaves him feeling even more drained than before, but weirdly sated. He slumps further in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk, and makes another annoyed sound. He keeps his grip on Tim’s wrist, reaching for the can on his desk with his other hand and popping the drink into Tim’s bleeding one.

“Mm- open that for me, would ya’, kiddo?“ Jack says casually– like he didn’t just almost take a chunk out of the double’s hand with his teeth, like none of it ever happened.