the song for this chapter is "NC-17," by Travis Scott :)
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Finley
While I felt somewhat equipped with the knife part of what Harry was trying to teach me, I was completely clueless when it came to guns.
I had never shot a gun in my life, although I had held one to Harry a shocking amount of times. Even more shocking...whenever I did...it usually led to great sex.
I guess that's why I felt a little...well...horny, to be honest...as Harry was swiftly and expertly loading each gun and cocking them, laying them out a table. He looked so focused as he did it, a crease between his brows and his lips pursed together tightly as his fingers moved nimbly to get each weapon ready for use.
"You know, it's very impolite to stare," Harry suddenly mused without ever breaking contact from the ammo he was currently loading into one of the guns, a small smirk growing on his lips.
"Can't help it, the um...the gun is really pretty?" I replied although it came out more like a question than a statement.
He paused what he was doing, glancing at me with an amused expression and a raised brow.
"This gun? Or mine?" He asked suggestively, and I groaned immediately at his answer that I had unintentionally set him up for.
I ignored his statement and picked up one of the smaller guns.
"What does this do?" I asked dumbly, just trying to get both my mind and the conversation off of sex, as this giant warehouse was beginning to feel smaller and smaller with each tense second that passed.
Harry reached forward and plucked the gun out from my hand, holding a pistol out for me instead.
"That is a single-shot handgun. Kind of pointless unless you have either an isolated target, or you need to sneak it into a high-security area or something," he explained, and I raised an eyebrow.
"So it only has one bullet? Kind of a risky choice," I laughed.
He shrugged. "Not if you never miss."
I rolled my eyes at his consistent arrogance as he walked back over to the table and set the gun down and then grabbed his pistol from his waistband, walking up next to me as we faced the body-shaped targets. "Alright, so, I know you've held these a couple of times, but when you shoot them, it has a lot of kick to it, so the trick when firing it is to have your arms extremely steady, or else the kickback from the gun will cause the bullet to miss your target," he began, and I nodded along like I had a single fucking clue as to what he was talking about.
"Now, this is a pistol, and while a revolver," he paused to pick up another gun that was slightly smaller than the pistol, but slightly larger than the single shotgun, "which holds six to seven rounds, a pistol on average will hold around seventeen," he continued to explain, placing the revolver down and unhinging the bottom of the gun which my TV knowledge allowed me to identify as the magazine, and showed me the bullets, before clicking the magazine back into place.
"This will probably be the gun most commonly available to you, and when we leave today, I'm gonna bring one back for you, so that if you want it, you can have it. I'll bring some of the knives too, and whatever else would make you feel more safe having," he rattled on, and I smiled at the unconventionally sweet gesture.
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full throttle || h.s. ||
Fanfiction"Who's that over there?" The man looked at me like I was from outer space, or perhaps like I lived under a rock, maybe a mixture of both. "Him? They call him Full Throttle," he chuckled with a hint of nervousness in his voice. I scrunched...
