"Pistola"
requested by FBF
by feldman
He probably thinks of it as armor, and he's right, most eyes slide right off that leather shell and are glad that he keeps walking. Away.
Chiana prefers when he walks toward. She likes the way the black darkens him and gives his masculinity a Nebari flavor, likes how the dull shine delineates his shape, the odd turn-out of his slightly bowed legs, his individual variations on the hollows and bulges that have always caught her eye since she ripened out of childhood.
He probably thinks the coat protects him, and maybe it does. But she knows the heart underneath those PK straps, has run her fingers through primal fur covering muscles that could rip her in half, heard him subvocalize her name and beat at his heart in frustration.
She knows where he came from, and
she isn't fooled.