minute forty-six
In a hostage situation, the first 15 to 45 minutes are considered the most dangerous.
Remember that the only goal is your survival. If you survive, you have won.
Boyd Crowder and Tim Gutterson both grew up to be Guides. They have always lived as hostages.
Inspired by Febuwhump and written for the Justified Discord server’s collective whump bingo board. This fulfills our “hostage situation” square. Mind the tags!
Enjoy, sinners. Here's something dark and fucked up. I'm always saying Tim needs to get whumped more and Boyd needs to get worse, so, I did all that :)
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since we accidentally gave Raylan a kink meant for Boyd I think it's only fair we give Boyd a kink I usually reserve for Raylan!! So let's do this: Boyd/Tim + jealousy kink
Thank you for the prompt, @itookyoudown! I think you might like this one, I tried to suit it to your tastes.
Words: 656
“Jimmy, leave us, would you?” Boyd says, without turning to face either of them.
Tim remains at ease where he’s standing, on the opposite side of Boyd’s desk.
Jimmy looks between the two of them. Tim knows he feels iced out, when Boyd does this. He must think there is some secret planning he’s not let in on. Tim grins. He doesn’t dissuade him from that notion. He’d stick his tongue out, but Boyd isn’t even looking behind to grip it between his thumb and knuckle. Seems like a wasted opportunity.
Jimmy shuts the door behind them, and Boyd finishes pouring himself two glasses of top shelf whiskey. Boyd sets the tumblers on his desk and sits in his leather chair. “C’mere,” he says.
Tim ambles around the large, wooden desk. He sits on the edge, a leg propped against the drawers.
“I said c’mere, boy,” Boyd snarls. His voice is tight and sexy, how Tim likes it. He grips Tim by the hips and pulls him toward his lap. Tim lands on Boyd’s thighs with a small exhale. He shivers. He wraps his arms around Boyd’s neck, arching his back so his chest rubs against Boyd’s own.
“Is this better, Boss?” Tim asks. He rolls his hips forward, brushing their cocks against each other, before he leans back. His arms still meet around Boyd’s neck, but his chest is no longer dragging along Boyd’s.
Boyd’s hands slide down Tim’s back, until they find their rightful places on Tim’s hips. Boyd grips Tim again, holding him in place, their cocks aligned. “Your behavior is unacceptable, brat,” Boyd hisses.
Tim’s shoulders shake with unreleased laughter. “Aw, man, is this my employee review? Are you gonna write me up?” Tim asks.
Boyd’s hand is whip fast on Tim’s cheek. His palm pushes Tim’s skull against the hard wood. Pain blooms from his temple. Oops. Pushed Daddy too far. Tim whines. “You will address me with respect, worthless dog,” Boyd commands.
Tim pants. “Yes, Daddy,” he says.
Boyd lifts him up by his hair and slams his head back down on the table. “Have you earned the right to call me Daddy?” he asks, though the question is very clearly rhetorical.
“No, Master,” Tim says. He tries not to slur the words. His ears are ringing. Blood pulses pain into the newly blooming bruise.
Boyd lifts his head back up by his hair and holds him in his eye contact. “Where were you last night?” he asks.
Tim swallows thickly. “I was with Mark,” he says.
“Oh, were you?” Boyd asks, deceptively light.
“He needed me,” Tim says.
“Needed you?” Boyd repeats. His tone is light. There’s almost a bit of humor in there, if you were easily convinced. Tim was not. “What did he need, beast? A blowjob? A tight little hole to fuck himself into?”
Tim shakes his head. “No—he,” he tries to explain, but he is not surprised by the interruption. Boyd’s fingers tighten in his hair. Boyd’s other hand comes up to clench around Tim’s jaw, halting his speech. His fingers dig into Tim’s face, so tight Tim worries about the bone.
“If this mouth cannot speak honestly, it will not speak at all,” Boyd warns. “I should have known,” he spits. “You always were a little whore. First you send your baby-doll fuck-me eyes at Colt. Now, you prance off after your miserable little leech. What next? You’ll be shaking your sultry little ass for Deputy Givens?” Boyd hisses.
Tim’s breath catches in his throat.
Boyd stills. “Oh?” he asks. Tim shivers. “Oh,” Boyd rolls out. He slams Tim’s face on the hardwood with enough force to break his nose.
He rips out Tim’s belt and forces down his jeans. “Well, then must I show you who you belong to?”
The first impact against Tim’s back is comforting. Boyd forces his thick cock up Tim’s unprepared hole. The second impact is even better.
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therapist boyd au... what is this hannibal? have you been in my brain, tooks?? need more on this topic, stat.
look look LOOK ... therapist/patient is my guilty pleasure pairing it's so fucked up it's such a betrayal of ethics and morals and when it comes to unequal power dynamics and inability to meaningfully consent i feel it's one of the most insidious ones right up there with incest.
it's part horror and part forbidden relationship trope and authority kink and for me all three are so deeply intertwined together i cannot distinguish them.
the idea of boyd entering into the psychology field...a power-hungry man like that being given power over vulnerable people...a silver-tongued man like that learning the language of therapy and understanding the inner workings of the therapeutic alliance ...
oh no oh yes.
makes me crazy makes me sick makes the lusty part of my brain short-circuit!! i cannot think too much about it and rarely indulge the thoughts and haven't even attempted to write it because of how much i want therapist!boyd getting a recently honorably discharged from the army and even more recently hired into the us marshals tim into his therapy room and doing what boyd has always done best but now he's even worse because he has a whole new fluency for exerting influence over and new angle of power to manipulate someone that's fallen under his spell!!!
i never want it to happen yet i need it to happen right now.
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