"There was nothing fucking notable about that movie. There almost was. But then apparently you can't kill main characters because fucking pussies." Lana rolled her eyes. Just once she wanted to see a movie in which everyone just fucking died. No Prince Charming to the rescue. He's balls deep in the evil witch and so on and so fourth. That would be entertaining.
"I'd always rather fuck up your shirt. But you seem to let others beat me to it. And I bet they didn't even swallow." She teased and watched him move around. How long had it been since she had been entangled in that body? She couldn't remember exactly. Which only meant one thing... Too long.
Lana rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I still fail to see an issue with the two of us being in an act together. Orgasms, knives, blood... Shit who wouldn't want to come to that show? I bet the audience would even partake in a big circle jerk." She grinned and moved closer to him, her hand trailed along his spine for a moment.
At the mention of the other knife thrower, Lana rolled her eyes again. "Fuck the Scot. He's too high and mighty." The thought of being in his show though, starting to pull at things low within her. "I'd be more than happy to be in your show. But if they won't let me, you know I'd still be more than happy to have your whip along my skin and your knives piercing my being..."
Lana came in front of him once more, her hands moved down to his slacks, shamelessly groping the slowly formed bulge in the front of his pants. "I've missed you. I grow tired of the vanilla cupcakes in this world." Her hands moved away from his slacks and she took a small step back, hands moving over her own body now. "Have you really missed me? Or are you feeding me some bullshit line to appease me? I know it must be so much better with your fae high here..." Her hands moved down the front of her body, cupping her breasts and trailing down between her legs. "Maybe I should find that childe of mine.... see if he is any good at replacing you...."