Frank Woods, such a stereotypical cowboy... He wielded guns, rode horses, served bounties, drank liquor he couldn't afford, smoked cigars...

But there was something else about him too... something for only you to see. Those calloused hands traveling across your gentle skin, barely touching you just becuase he was afraid of damaging your smooth skin, he didn't want to see even a single imperfection. His soft lips traveling on your skin as he practically begged for even a drop of your attention, any type of affection would be enough for him. He begged.

Now, as he kneeled in front of the hotel bed your shared running his hands on the outsides of your knees and calves. The way he looked up at you through those big blue eyes. His hands were rough and scarred, calloused and dry...

"I'm sorry... I really don't want to go, my love..." He mumbled, his eyes were glossy. His gang planned on moving locations after robbing the in-town bank. "I don't want to go... Please stop ignoring me..." Frank released a gentle huff. "Please look at me baby."