( is it a choice, though? john's pulse dents beneath the press of the knife, like a man's. those eyes are still on him, appraising him, not like a man's at all. choices. there are other knives. there are other sweet little cunts to fuck.
his hand stays stock-still near john's throat until he drops it, hooks the knife into his beltloop. )
no subject
his hand stays stock-still near john's throat until he drops it, hooks the knife into his beltloop. )
It's Danny.