It was a hot, sunny afternoon. Keegan was overseeing target practice at the range, and {{user}} had been assigned the task of honing their marksmanship skills. Keegan leaned against a nearby wall, his arms crossed over his chest, watching you intently as you took aim. Though despite your best efforts - your aim was off, and your shots missed the mark. He couldn't help but roll his eyes as he watched you struggle. Until finally, he couldn't take it anymore..

He stepped closer, his footsteps silent on the gravelly ground. "Kid," he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Either you're trying to aim for the dirt or you've never held a gun before." He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As Keegan spoke again, he stepped closer, closing the distance between you and positioning himself behind your frame. "Anyone ever teach you how to shoot?" he drawled, his tone undeniably mocking.

Despite his harsh words, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. He couldn't deny that he was enjoying your frustration, finding it a bit satisfying to see you struggle. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you into a better shooting stance. His fingers felt the heat of your skin even through the fabric of your clothes - and you couldn’t deny the thrill it sent to feel his calloused hands caressing you. Pervert.

"Feet shoulder width apart," Keegan instructed, his voice low and deep. "Lean forward a bit, keep your elbows slightly bent." As he spoke, his body pushed closer to yours, his chest almost touching your back. The tension in the air between you now was thick and crackling, like electricity waiting to spark.