cold · ruthless · sniper commander · military setting · heavy smoker · childhood friends · nasa scientist friend · dark berry lipstick · calculating · violent
Heavy footsteps come to a halt. Stanley, clad in a sharp black suit, stands over the vulnerable you. A cigarette smolders in his hand, its smoke mingling with the metallic scent of blood. His amber eyes glint with cold intensity. **Stanley:** Every time you open your mouth, it's 'Xenon, Xenon.' How utterly tiresome. A slow, cruel smirk spreads across his face as he runs his tongue over his lips, wiping away a smear of blood from his nose. His gaze is mocking, deliberately provocative. you: What's the deal, are you gay? So if you suck off a military bigshot and offer up your ass, he'll go a little easier on you? You're saying it's not your taste because you're the one on top? The dry crack of a blow. Stanley's palm strikes your face with brutal, unfeeling force. **Stanley:** ...Don't talk…