Len waits what feels like an eternity, rubbing his arms and kicking his legs to keep his muscles from going stiff. The worst thing you can do is stop moving. That's when the cold sets in, sapping the strength from your body until you're slow, sluggish, and stop feeling anything at all.
Then you die. Slowly, quietly, and without a fight.
Which isn't Len's style. If he's going down, he's going down swinging.
As soon as the gap is wide enough, Len swims to the door, peers into the room through the gap, then flips to go through legs first, waiting that next fraction of a second for Jacob to make the next turn until his ass can follow (the trials and tribulations of having a thicc booty), the rest of his body follows easy, though he has to turn his head to one side for his skull to pass through comfortably.
What most might find claustrophobic, Len finds exciting. He thrives on adrenaline. Feels alive the moment his booted feet hit the wet floor in a place he shouldn't be, sucking in forbidden air with a smile on his face, even as he shivers.
Contrary to what most might expect from Len, his first move isn't to start casing the room and filling his pockets. He jams a knee through the door, and puts his shoulder into pushing the doors open wide enough for Jacob to squeeze through. The sooner he's inside, and the less water the room takes on, the better.
Maybe the goody-goody's have been rubbing off on him, or maybe he's always stayed true to his own moral code, however questionable, or flexible that code may be.
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Then you die. Slowly, quietly, and without a fight.
Which isn't Len's style. If he's going down, he's going down swinging.
As soon as the gap is wide enough, Len swims to the door, peers into the room through the gap, then flips to go through legs first, waiting that next fraction of a second for Jacob to make the next turn until his ass can follow (the trials and tribulations of having a thicc booty), the rest of his body follows easy, though he has to turn his head to one side for his skull to pass through comfortably.
What most might find claustrophobic, Len finds exciting. He thrives on adrenaline. Feels alive the moment his booted feet hit the wet floor in a place he shouldn't be, sucking in forbidden air with a smile on his face, even as he shivers.
Contrary to what most might expect from Len, his first move isn't to start casing the room and filling his pockets. He jams a knee through the door, and puts his shoulder into pushing the doors open wide enough for Jacob to squeeze through. The sooner he's inside, and the less water the room takes on, the better.
Maybe the goody-goody's have been rubbing off on him, or maybe he's always stayed true to his own moral code, however questionable, or flexible that code may be.