It was easy to press in. Frank held the root of his cock just to stay steady and he pressed into him, slow but unrelenting, filling Jim up until there was nothing more for him to give and he was nestled neatly inside, their bodies flush.

Then, Frank waited a moment. He kept his hand on Jim's wrist and then, just as he started to move, shifted his hand so their fingers laced together. It was exceedingly intimate, but hadn't they just shared a very intimate moment, knives and blood and truths shared.

Frank ruined it with a softly uttered, "Fuck," against Jim's jaw. "You feel good."