[ It stings, that sudden shock of teeth and blood. Carver grunts but doesn't jerk away, doesn't immediately retaliate with a blow of his own. This is just happening, a moment left to spiral and who's to say where it ends? He doesn't care, Carver realizes, he hasn't for a while now. Hands dig into his sides, skipping over old scars, and Carver just forges ahead. Only way out is through, same as it's ever been. And it's easy to work a man's belt open like this, natural as breathing. Easy, too, to shift and bite that fucker on the side of the neck because it's that sort of moment; getting a hand down a man's pants and bloodying him in the same breath. Why the fuck not? ]
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