"Make it look pretty, but train it to kill."
Lancer is completely aware that Edge is capable of murder.
The Mafioso was constantly exposed to death, a lot of it happening by his delicately sculpted hand.
Yes, Lancer is a completely aware of this but still kisses his rosy lips hungrily, large hands possessively groping the ginger's thick ass and thighs.
Edge moans in delight as their hips grind against each other, their members painfully erect. The close proximity of their bodies leaves no space, hot skin against hot skin, sticky with perspiration and desire.
Lancer knows that the young man who crawls into his bed each night, seeking his affection, is dangerous. He knows the gorgeous ginger that kisses him so passionately, submits to him so eagerly, cums for him so blissfully, is a killer.
There's an unfathomable amount of blood on those graceful, porcelain smooth hands.
Still, Lance can't help but love him.
YOU ARE READING
ANOTHER BOOK OF BS INSTEAD OF SLEEP
RandomIT'S BACK FUCK E V E R Y T H I N G REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DAILY PROMPTS FOR Y'ALL WHO COULDN'T TELL
