For lover100 - Author's Choice 001. Crimson
TITLE: Crimson
AUTHOR:
g_shadowslayer (Penemuel)
FANDOM: Person of Interest
PAIRING/CHARACTER: John Reese (this fic's pairing: Mark Snow/John Reese)
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: C
PROMPT: 001. Author's Choice
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: It's not Reese's kink, but it meshes too well with one of them...
WARNINGS: BDSM, bloodplay, dangerous practices with bodily fluids, pain kink, just general 'Mark Snow is a creep'iness
NOTES: Mark Snow is a terrible, TERRIBLE Dom. He doesn't give a shit about informed consent, or about the fact that this kind of thing is dangerous. This relationship is a huge abuse of authority. Please understand that this is the character's issue, not the author's ignorance!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, and I'll try to clean them up a little before I give them back...
WORD COUNT: 1007 per WordPerfect
The first time it happens is accidental. Snow scratches Reese too hard, and a line of crimson beads blossoms along his ribcage.
But Snow groans and brushes his thumb over the cut and licks up the crimson liquid, then leans in to lick more up with a hungry, questing tongue.
When Snow shoves him down on the bed and fucks him, he's the hardest he's ever been.
* * *
The second time it isn't so much accidental as incidental, when they have to bail out over the woods and Snow ends up having to cut him free. His knife slips on the parachute harness, and red blossoms on Reese's shoulder.
They're miles behind enemy lines and Snow should worry, but he saw the plane's trajectory, and after that crash there aren't enough of their enemies left to come and interrupt them before he stanches the bleeding with his fingers and then fucks Reese senseless.
* * *
The third time, Snow comes to his apartment and has him pinned, hungry and writhing when he pulls out a small multi-tool with a blade so new it's still glistening with oil.
His hands are steady as he cuts across Reese's bicep, groaning as the crimson beads well up. Fingers grip tight and Reese moans, head tilted back against the wall as Snow leans in and sucks the blood from the wound.
For Reese, it's all about the intensity, about the sensation -- the pleasure in pain.
For Snow, it's the blood that really gets him going -- that gets him so hard he can't think and all he can do is slam into Reese's willing body, hand slipping on his upper arm with the blood that hasn't stopped flowing yet.
* * *
This time, Snow is angry -- possessive. He pushes Reese down on the bed and growls, "I don't like having to watch you with someone else."
"It was the job, Mark. You knew that when you sent me. Cara couldn't have done it this time, so it needed me."
Snow leans in close, and there's a dangerous light in his eyes. "You didn't have to enjoy it so much."
"Dammit, Mark, it wouldn't have been believable if I just lay there and took it," he answers, maybe a little defensively, because damn it, it was good...
And the knife is out now, Snow's other hand splayed wide in the middle of his chest as he straddles his hips and traps his cock. "You're even thinking of him right now, aren't you?" he growls.
Reese wisely says nothing -- he could stop him; could use his strength and his training to do so if he really wanted to -- instead, just draws in a hiss of breath at the sting of the first cut, heat slithering down his spine.
Snow leans in close and shows him the knife, edge glistening crimson with his blood.
In a low, dangerous tone, Snow tells him, "Some arms dealer with a great big dick might be able to fill that greedy hole of yours, but there is no one else on this Earth who will do the things I do to you. No one."
Snow licks the knife clean right in front of him and god help him, he's suddenly hard as a rock, knowing what Snow will be like and wanting more, now.
And Snow can see it in his eyes, because he brings the knife back down for another cut, and then another. Reese moans and shudders, hips trying to move, but he's pinned too expertly.
Snow's fingers run over the cuts, leaving red trails across his tanned skin, hot and slick. Then Snow growls again, climbs off him and grabs the lube; smacks him on one thigh. "Spread 'em, John," he growls, and Reese obeys quickly, eagerly.
He's back on the bed and kneeling between Reese's thighs only a moment later, slicking his cock and growling softly at the sight spread out before him.
There isn't anywhere near enough blood, Snow thinks as he reaches forward to paint his palms with it. Then he grips Reese's hips, positions his cock, and shoves deep with one brutal thrust.
Reese cries out, voice rough with hunger, arching in the bed as he's filled. He misses Snow releasing his hips and licking his lips at the sight of the bloody handprints, but he does not miss the way Snow's already rock hard cock twitches inside him. "Oh fuck," he gasps, muscles clenching hard on it.
Snow pulls back and slams in hard, then leans forward and picks up the knife again. "You're mine, John," he growls as he cuts a fresh stripe on Reese's bicep. Even though he keeps the cuts shallow, it's started to scar after all the attention he's given it and that just makes him hotter, another mark of his ownership on Reese's delicious body.
Then he switches hands with the knife (he may not be as ambidextrous as Reese, but he has enough skill with his left to manage) and digs his thumb into the fresh cut.
Reese cries out, bucks up into Snow as muscles twitch, clenching on the rock hard cock filling him. "Ohgod, Mark!" he gasps. "Please!" And he writhes in the bed, bucking up into every savage thrust.
Snow cuts him again and again, but keeps returning his attention to the one on his bicep. His cut. His mark on Reese's body.
Snow's hands are nearly dripping crimson now; slick red wrapped around his achingly hard cock, jerking him hard and fast and he's crying out and coming so hard as he clenches on Snow's cock.
Snow milks the last of his offering from his cock, then moves his hand and looks at his handiwork.
Crimson handprints mark Reese's body, one wrapped possessively around his cock. Snow studies him painted in his own blood and rams deep one more time, roaring as he comes. And all Reese can do is lie there, trembling with little aftershocks of pleasure as Snow rocks into him until the last spasms fade.
This entry was originally posted at http://g-shadowslayer.dreamwidth.org/232657.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
AUTHOR:
g_shadowslayer (Penemuel)
FANDOM: Person of Interest
PAIRING/CHARACTER: John Reese (this fic's pairing: Mark Snow/John Reese)
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: C
PROMPT: 001. Author's Choice
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: It's not Reese's kink, but it meshes too well with one of them...
WARNINGS: BDSM, bloodplay, dangerous practices with bodily fluids, pain kink, just general 'Mark Snow is a creep'iness
NOTES: Mark Snow is a terrible, TERRIBLE Dom. He doesn't give a shit about informed consent, or about the fact that this kind of thing is dangerous. This relationship is a huge abuse of authority. Please understand that this is the character's issue, not the author's ignorance!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, and I'll try to clean them up a little before I give them back...
WORD COUNT: 1007 per WordPerfect
The first time it happens is accidental. Snow scratches Reese too hard, and a line of crimson beads blossoms along his ribcage.
But Snow groans and brushes his thumb over the cut and licks up the crimson liquid, then leans in to lick more up with a hungry, questing tongue.
When Snow shoves him down on the bed and fucks him, he's the hardest he's ever been.
* * *
The second time it isn't so much accidental as incidental, when they have to bail out over the woods and Snow ends up having to cut him free. His knife slips on the parachute harness, and red blossoms on Reese's shoulder.
They're miles behind enemy lines and Snow should worry, but he saw the plane's trajectory, and after that crash there aren't enough of their enemies left to come and interrupt them before he stanches the bleeding with his fingers and then fucks Reese senseless.
* * *
The third time, Snow comes to his apartment and has him pinned, hungry and writhing when he pulls out a small multi-tool with a blade so new it's still glistening with oil.
His hands are steady as he cuts across Reese's bicep, groaning as the crimson beads well up. Fingers grip tight and Reese moans, head tilted back against the wall as Snow leans in and sucks the blood from the wound.
For Reese, it's all about the intensity, about the sensation -- the pleasure in pain.
For Snow, it's the blood that really gets him going -- that gets him so hard he can't think and all he can do is slam into Reese's willing body, hand slipping on his upper arm with the blood that hasn't stopped flowing yet.
* * *
This time, Snow is angry -- possessive. He pushes Reese down on the bed and growls, "I don't like having to watch you with someone else."
"It was the job, Mark. You knew that when you sent me. Cara couldn't have done it this time, so it needed me."
Snow leans in close, and there's a dangerous light in his eyes. "You didn't have to enjoy it so much."
"Dammit, Mark, it wouldn't have been believable if I just lay there and took it," he answers, maybe a little defensively, because damn it, it was good...
And the knife is out now, Snow's other hand splayed wide in the middle of his chest as he straddles his hips and traps his cock. "You're even thinking of him right now, aren't you?" he growls.
Reese wisely says nothing -- he could stop him; could use his strength and his training to do so if he really wanted to -- instead, just draws in a hiss of breath at the sting of the first cut, heat slithering down his spine.
Snow leans in close and shows him the knife, edge glistening crimson with his blood.
In a low, dangerous tone, Snow tells him, "Some arms dealer with a great big dick might be able to fill that greedy hole of yours, but there is no one else on this Earth who will do the things I do to you. No one."
Snow licks the knife clean right in front of him and god help him, he's suddenly hard as a rock, knowing what Snow will be like and wanting more, now.
And Snow can see it in his eyes, because he brings the knife back down for another cut, and then another. Reese moans and shudders, hips trying to move, but he's pinned too expertly.
Snow's fingers run over the cuts, leaving red trails across his tanned skin, hot and slick. Then Snow growls again, climbs off him and grabs the lube; smacks him on one thigh. "Spread 'em, John," he growls, and Reese obeys quickly, eagerly.
He's back on the bed and kneeling between Reese's thighs only a moment later, slicking his cock and growling softly at the sight spread out before him.
There isn't anywhere near enough blood, Snow thinks as he reaches forward to paint his palms with it. Then he grips Reese's hips, positions his cock, and shoves deep with one brutal thrust.
Reese cries out, voice rough with hunger, arching in the bed as he's filled. He misses Snow releasing his hips and licking his lips at the sight of the bloody handprints, but he does not miss the way Snow's already rock hard cock twitches inside him. "Oh fuck," he gasps, muscles clenching hard on it.
Snow pulls back and slams in hard, then leans forward and picks up the knife again. "You're mine, John," he growls as he cuts a fresh stripe on Reese's bicep. Even though he keeps the cuts shallow, it's started to scar after all the attention he's given it and that just makes him hotter, another mark of his ownership on Reese's delicious body.
Then he switches hands with the knife (he may not be as ambidextrous as Reese, but he has enough skill with his left to manage) and digs his thumb into the fresh cut.
Reese cries out, bucks up into Snow as muscles twitch, clenching on the rock hard cock filling him. "Ohgod, Mark!" he gasps. "Please!" And he writhes in the bed, bucking up into every savage thrust.
Snow cuts him again and again, but keeps returning his attention to the one on his bicep. His cut. His mark on Reese's body.
Snow's hands are nearly dripping crimson now; slick red wrapped around his achingly hard cock, jerking him hard and fast and he's crying out and coming so hard as he clenches on Snow's cock.
Snow milks the last of his offering from his cock, then moves his hand and looks at his handiwork.
Crimson handprints mark Reese's body, one wrapped possessively around his cock. Snow studies him painted in his own blood and rams deep one more time, roaring as he comes. And all Reese can do is lie there, trembling with little aftershocks of pleasure as Snow rocks into him until the last spasms fade.
This entry was originally posted at http://g-shadowslayer.dreamwidth.org/232657.html. Please comment there using OpenID.