"Got your pick, huh?" There's nothing that gets Len going like a little competition. Len doesn't care about being the best, it's the challenge that excites him. Whether it's the promise of an uncrackable safe, breaking out of prisons designed to keep him locked up, or testing the patience and restraint of a man/woman/other dangerous enough to kick his ass as readily as they'd screw him.
Lean shifts up onto his elbows, crossing one long, long leg over the other. He tilts his head from one side to the other, observing Kabal like a cat does a spider, or some other small, fragile creature whose only purpose is to be chewed up and spit out by something higher up the food chain.
After some fun. Going in for the kill right off the bat isn't half as satisfying.
"I strongly doubt there's anyone around here quite like me, and definitely not in these." A shift in his position, pulling his knees in closer. Kabal gets an eyeful of said thighs, silky panties, and the ass they're attached to, but not without the distraction of his casually bouncing foot.
"What are you, the big wolf on campus? You telling me you're the strongest, hardest, scariest motherfucker in this joint?" A flit of his eyelashes, scanning Kabal from dick to face and back again. Casing the joint for valuable goods. Anything he'd like to fence.
"Cause if you've got your pick, and I'm clearly superior in every way to you, then I have more than my pick of guys. And I love a good fiasco." Especially the one happening right here, right now, between two grown men who were trying to kill each other less than forty-eight hours ago. Len sighs, stretching his arms above his head. Entirely, shamelessly unbothered by their current position.
"So I guess I've got a lot of appointments I could be taking. What makes yours so important?" A smirk that's more eyes than mouth, the amusement in the crook of his brow.
Is it really a pressing matter if Kabal isn't going mad with lust or wrath?
no subject
"Got your pick, huh?" There's nothing that gets Len going like a little competition. Len doesn't care about being the best, it's the challenge that excites him. Whether it's the promise of an uncrackable safe, breaking out of prisons designed to keep him locked up, or testing the patience and restraint of a man/woman/other dangerous enough to kick his ass as readily as they'd screw him.
Lean shifts up onto his elbows, crossing one long, long leg over the other. He tilts his head from one side to the other, observing Kabal like a cat does a spider, or some other small, fragile creature whose only purpose is to be chewed up and spit out by something higher up the food chain.
After some fun. Going in for the kill right off the bat isn't half as satisfying.
"I strongly doubt there's anyone around here quite like me, and definitely not in these." A shift in his position, pulling his knees in closer. Kabal gets an eyeful of said thighs, silky panties, and the ass they're attached to, but not without the distraction of his casually bouncing foot.
"What are you, the big wolf on campus? You telling me you're the strongest, hardest, scariest motherfucker in this joint?" A flit of his eyelashes, scanning Kabal from dick to face and back again. Casing the joint for valuable goods. Anything he'd like to fence.
"Cause if you've got your pick, and I'm clearly superior in every way to you, then I have more than my pick of guys. And I love a good fiasco." Especially the one happening right here, right now, between two grown men who were trying to kill each other less than forty-eight hours ago. Len sighs, stretching his arms above his head. Entirely, shamelessly unbothered by their current position.
"So I guess I've got a lot of appointments I could be taking. What makes yours so important?" A smirk that's more eyes than mouth, the amusement in the crook of his brow.
Is it really a pressing matter if Kabal isn't going mad with lust or wrath?