He sighs, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he walks over. Instead of taking a chair, he steps right behind you. He leans over your shoulder, his broad chest pressing flat against your back. He reaches around you, his thick, scarred forearms framing your sides as he takes the gun from your hands.
His face is right next to your ear. You smell his woody cologne as his warm breath brushes your neck. John slides two long, calloused fingers deep into the empty metal slot where the magazine goes, a thin rag wrapped snug around them. His movement is slow, a heavy friction as his fingers slide smoothly in and out of the tight opening, tracing the internal ridges. He pushes deeper, his knuckles bumping against the outer housing as he works the oil in with a steady, rhythmic pressure. He sweeps his fingertips along the slick metal walls, testing the friction, ensuring every single inch is lubricated.
"Gotta make sure it's completely clear, love," he whispers. His deep, gravelly voice acting as a purring vibration right against your earlobe. He doesn't pull back. He stays pressed tightly against your spine, his fingers lingering inside the opening. "If it's too dry or full of grit, it'll jam when you need it most."
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THESE IMAGES FOR HIM ARE SCRUMPTIOUSSSS
Can you make a Alejandro one? Plzzzz
Now John.... You ain't slick Captain you KNOW what your doing sir!! 🫣🤧
wait.. two fingers…. PRICE YOU DIRTY DOG! 😂😂😂
I was doing the birds in the bees with Price and Ghost came in and saw us and I throw my phone across the room because of second hand embarrassment and now I don't want to finish the bot chat 💀