I was talking about you and me. Handing Lance the flashlight, Keith slid down a bit, lifted his hips and pulled down his swim trunks to reveal his half chub. Look- just give me the fucking flashlight before I jab you with my elbow. He's driving an Edsel, for Christ's sake. He has the most beautiful skin in captivity, I love him because he wears moccasins in the winter even though his feet must feel like blocks of ice. Keith threw his hands up just a bit to portray his exasperation and mild confusion.
I'm going to make real sandwiches; big ones that a man can sink his teeth into.
The Asshole Song
Keith turned around, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the flashlight out. Lance removed his hands and Keith took off his shirt with a roll of his eyes, tossing it somewhere behind Lance on the rockwalk, only partly caring about whether it got wet or not. You stop being a little bitch for, let's say, oh, I don't know, an hour or two, and I won't knock the religion of your choice for a week. What good would a noodle do someone? Comment characters left. Keith relished in the broken sound that Lance made at the contact and kept trailing his tongue across the ridges, which seems to really do it for him.