[He ruined it. Must've. Jay picks up the pace, one hand snapping out to fist into the fur of Tim's arm and his sleeve. One part of him wants to jerk away while the other leans into the touch almost instinctively, pitifully desperate for interaction of any sort. And he can't, for the life of him, fucking tell which soul that's stemming from.]
[The thought of Jay trying to move this mountain of fur and flesh is almost laughable; nonetheless, something about that assertive declaration must have worked. Tim moves, obediently, stumbling after.]
no subject
[The thought of Jay trying to move this mountain of fur and flesh is almost laughable; nonetheless, something about that assertive declaration must have worked. Tim moves, obediently, stumbling after.]
Like where?