This is a million years late, I’m sorry.
Jack’s first love was a gun. The rush from pulling the trigger (and the kickback) nearly knocked him off his feet, but he’s learned to stand against it, to bare his teeth into the wind.
This isn’t that. Rhys gives like water, stretched long and pale beneath Jack, sweat dampening the blindfold, hands flexing not to escape his bonds but to feel them tighten. He’d shown Jack how to tie the ropes himself.
It’s not love, this tightness in Jack’s chest, this weightlessness under his ribs. Of course not. But Jack thinks he could drown in it all the same.
So many from that list seem like amazing Rhack prompts. How about “I do not believe in love at first sight. But goddamn. (Look at you.)” for Rhys and Jack?
Published
ugh 