Timmy couldn't handle it, the bonding.
His small body was collapsing under his weight, as he was pounding into him.
He couldn't believe he was doing this to his own son, but he couldn't help it. He was "Chicago Man" after all, and this is what he did. He knew he was a sick man, an awful man.
Timmy was now slowly losing consciousness, sweat beading on his small ginger brow. His eyes were glazed; as if his mind was trying to cope by blocking the present situation completely. Nosy made him do this, he said that it wouldn't harm him, but evidently, it was.
Timmy was whimpering in pain, his scrawny body racking with sobs, and he was horrified to find that he was actually enjoying this.
His Chicago jacket was lying discarded on the floor, and he felt as if it was mocking him; teasing him with the happy memories he'd had with Timmy just hours before.
As he pulled away from Timmy, his skin was clammy and oddly cold. Chicago man was shaking, and as he felt his face, he was surprised to find himself crying.