[ point + knife ] your muse holding mine at knife point. ( lucifer + leo )
there had to be something POETIC about the contrast of the cool blade against his fiery skin. for a second, it was all he could focus on — how striking the sensation was, how easily this could turn sour for him ( as if it hadn’t already, with lucifer having the clear upperhand ), how close to his pulse the tip of the blade was … if lucifer applied just the right amount of pressure, he could probably feel the life pulsing through him himself. although leonardo was more accostumed to being on the opposite side of this particular predicament, this was no first time for him. and if the devilish glint on the brown hues staring back at him were anything to go by, he’d bet it wasn’t a first for lucifer either. figures.
getting himself out of this vulnerable position was an option, and a rather obvious one at that, but leo didn’t take it ; made no attempts to switch their roles, in whatever way that may have been accomplished. his mind practically swirls with ideas on how he could turn this around, how he could try to best lucifer at his own game ( alright, maybe it was multi-player ) … yet he makes no effort to turn into a reality. for just this fleeting moment, it was more appealing to be the prey — and how much more delicious would it be to make himself the predator again when the time comes ?
a smirk makes its way onto his lips, easy and familiar. when he speaks, his voice is rough — as would be expected of someone with a knife pressed to their throat.
“ always had a feeling this was one of your kinks. ”











