“Please — please don’t.” He begged softly, removing your hand from his blemished cheek. With a faint sigh, his eyes spoke more words than he could muster from his ever-tightening throat. Using the pad of his thumb, he reassuringly rubbed your palm. It all he could offer.

“Don’t touch me. I can’t handle it.” The outlaw pleaded, his voice strained against the thick air. He felt pathetic. Tiredly, his eyes fluttered closed.

The warmth of the night engulfed the both of you, but not pleasantly.