Blood Driven Dream
I wrote this a few years ago and considering I still can read it I figured I might as well post it.
The two bodies were huddled close together on the floor. Subdued, sensual, dark rock music travelled through the air. The now heated piece of metal passed from the small unadorned hands of the one occupants of the room to the large, multi-layer polished hands of the other. Dark brown, nearly black, eyes stared into eyes that were even darker.
One of the large hands slid the sharp edge of the metal down the other hand's arm, next to another slice. Naked lips came to meet the blood at the surface of the skin. As all the blood on the surface was lapped up more blood came to the surface. As the drinker finished they reach for the razor but they did not receive it. The razor had been set aside.
The drinker looked up, long, dark hair falling into their face. "Are we done?"
"Mmhmm..." came the response through messy lips.
"Who let you have a razor anyway?"
"Should they not have?"
"You have black lipstick and blood smeared all over your face."
"I don't think I did when I bought the razor." When they had bought the razor they probably had looked much like they did now. They had had the same black, straight hair that fell just above their shoulders. The same florescent pink streaks in that hair. The same thick ribbon around their neck. The same make-up lined darkest of eyes. The same large hands with layers of nail polish. The arms were most likely covered. The cloths were maybe different, the lipstick unmarred or not even present. The blood: invisible.
This being's counter-part stared evenly at them, waiting to absorb every word that entered the space between them. The counter-part was free of the other's adornments and make-up. Their marks were to be found in other locations.
"Toni," the one with the smeared face used the short form of their counter-part's name, "how did...?" They let their words trail off; they were not truly confused by the current situation; only outside eyes, peering in, would be.