( without his hud, sharkface is a shadow painted in broad, black strokes, backdropped in flashing red. he smells blood, sharp and cloying — his arm, sharkface's busted lip or nose or wherever the fuck he managed to nail him in their brief struggle. this motherfucker might actually kill him. that's a thought.
steel sheet groans under pressure as he braces his shoulders on the wall, inching his legs apart. his helmet rolls down the split track of his thighs, stopped by his knees. )
You wanna fuck around and find out? ( then, sweeter: ) Come give me a kiss.
no subject
steel sheet groans under pressure as he braces his shoulders on the wall, inching his legs apart. his helmet rolls down the split track of his thighs, stopped by his knees. )
You wanna fuck around and find out? ( then, sweeter: ) Come give me a kiss.
( bet his draw is faster than his lunge. )