He can’t help but stare. Blood trails down, over, and between patches of blonde fuzz and upon yellowed bruises. It holds the slick paper to Jukka’s ass like glue as the next card is placed over yet another cusp of flesh. One more staple is driven in.
A king. A queen… and now the jack peer curiously up at him. The room wavers as he sips his beer. He grins knowingly at Jarppi, who’s holding the staple gun after all. He can’t help but imagine the same fingers that are pressing paper to skin… he can’t help but imagine those same fingers pressing forward and breeching the entrance that he himself knows clenches and winks each and every time metal pierces skin.
Drawing a drag from his nearly completely ashen cigarette, Steve-O only barks out a laugh when Jarppi catches him staring and promptly offers him the world. “You want to go next?”