It took a moment for Adam to answer, but he pointed to an area in the carport that had a lot of the things that they used outside. "It should be over there." He should have been cautious. Gunnar was unleashed most days, but he still always stayed around the trailer. Still, it wasn't even a question of if the dog was going with them, even for Adam.
Adam stood up then, letting the dog go, who still refused to leave his side. Gunnar at least stopped yapping, opting instead to bound and prance around Adam, obviously happy he was with him. He looked around, trying to see if there was anything else he wanted while he was here, but spotted nothing.
Except a rock.
His eyes lasered in on them, and dark desire sparked inside him, something he couldn't and wouldn't resist. Not this time. He headed toward it and picked it up, letting it move through his aching hands. The rock wasn't any warmer and grated against his dry skin. It had good weight. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he whirled around and sent it sailing, knocking against the side of the house with a pleasing thud.
Then he found another. WHACK! And another. CRASH! And so on, unable to stop himself, denting the walls, breaking windows, and not so much as even a commotion from any of the nearby trailers. It became all he could focus on, punctuating each throw with an angered shout, huffing with his exertion as he repeated. Pick. Throw. Crash. Again. And again. And again. It felt so good that he couldn't stop himself from it at all.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-12-20 09:48 am (UTC)Adam stood up then, letting the dog go, who still refused to leave his side. Gunnar at least stopped yapping, opting instead to bound and prance around Adam, obviously happy he was with him. He looked around, trying to see if there was anything else he wanted while he was here, but spotted nothing.
Except a rock.
His eyes lasered in on them, and dark desire sparked inside him, something he couldn't and wouldn't resist. Not this time. He headed toward it and picked it up, letting it move through his aching hands. The rock wasn't any warmer and grated against his dry skin. It had good weight. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he whirled around and sent it sailing, knocking against the side of the house with a pleasing thud.
Then he found another. WHACK! And another. CRASH! And so on, unable to stop himself, denting the walls, breaking windows, and not so much as even a commotion from any of the nearby trailers. It became all he could focus on, punctuating each throw with an angered shout, huffing with his exertion as he repeated. Pick. Throw. Crash. Again. And again. And again. It felt so good that he couldn't stop himself from it at all.