The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname



Bam likes Khun’s knife. Likes wrapping his hand around Khun’s wrist and asking without words for—

The first time left Khun wide-eyed but now he’s so good at leaning in close and making a soft, hushing sound, warm against Bam’s skin as he slowly warms Bam up, flicks of a blade on his stomach and sides, the press of heated hands between his legs, the slick and slide of lube, then the smooth wood of the handle pushed inside him.

Bam groans at each sensation, every bit of it, bites his tongue to keep from making too much noise, only for Khun to stare at him, narrow his eyes, and take it as a personal challenge to make him scream.


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