The Tomorrow Trilogy Fanfiction - Trust
So 500themes gave me the theme "Toxic Tease" and well, I thought of Savin. And then I thought of n3m3sis43's TT fanfic Control. This would take place after Chapter Six but before her planned events for Chapter Seven. Heavy warnings for Savin's blood and knifeplay kinks.
After Mitchel’s little stunt of approaching me in the Palace Gardens a second time, the bastard’s been a bit more subdued. Hasn’t approached me at all -- not even after the Council meetings are done. The way he’s been looking at me, though? He’s totally fucking desperate to meet up again. Wonder how many times he’s had to sit under a cold fucking shower, now. I know I’ve had to have a few.
As much as the bastard likes pain, I wonder if I can convince him to indulge me in another one of my kinks. Fucking in public? Totally fucking hot. But knives? Oh, Mitchel has no fucking clue what that would do to me.
Except I know I need to be in complete control of myself. Blood alone gets me going. Cutting someone up and making them bleed? Even more so. It’s one of the reasons I even decided to go into surgery in the first place -- there’s nothing like cutting someone open and piecing them back together. Nothing like knowing someone’s life is entirely in your hands and that if you make one wrong move, it’s over.
Taking a scalpel to someone who’s asleep and can’t feel it? It’s nothing compared to someone who can. Mari wasn’t into it -- Jazz would let me if he didn’t have to see, but he’d never let me cut all that deep. He didn’t like pain -- and to be honest, I’m not exactly sure I was ever really comfortable hurting him during sex, either. Never seemed right.
But Mitchel? Not only can that bastard take a fucking beating but he totally wants to be left bruised and broken every time we fuck. I’ve got some free time tonight -- I keep thinking about bringing my knives over to his apartment. But if I’m gonna do that, I need to take a moment and pleasure myself. Clear my head a bit.
As much as I want to think about how I’m going to drag my knife across Mitchel’s skin, I can’t. I think about Jazz instead. How his voice sounds when he’s begging me to fuck him harder. How his nails dig into my back as he’s getting close. The way he bites his lip. It’s not long before my hand feels way too rough and I need release.
It only takes me a few more minutes of stroking myself to bring myself to the edge. I almost back off and give myself a moment to recover, but I don’t. Maybe if I come a second time I’ll be able to hold off long enough to get Mitchel close a handful of times. Maybe even get him to beg.
That’s the thought that pushes me over the edge the first time. And it’s what keeps me going even after I’ve gone soft in my own hand. It’s not long before I’m hard again, though. This time I can only focus on Mitchel, on how I want to drag the knife across his skin over and over again.
Once my head clears from my second orgasm, I get up from my bed and grab my phone. As I get dressed, I pull out my knife set from the closet. Some of them are ones that went “missing” from the surgical suite of the hospital, others are ones I’ve bought myself. I’ve only ever used one with Jazz -- and while I love the hell out of that knife, I don’t want to use the same one on Mitchel.
As I’m busy selecting a knife, Mitchel finally answers his phone. Bet he thinks he was being coy, not answering it right away. “Emperor,” he grunts into the phone, “It’s been a while.”
“Only a week, Councilman,” I’m quick to point out to him. “Surely an older man like yourself has more control over your baser needs than that?”
I must have said just the right thing, because Mitchel’s deliciously silent on the other end. Making him speechless is a difficult thing to do. “Are you at home, Councilman?” I ask, keeping my tone light as I finally choose the right knife. Just sharp enough to slice through skin easily, but not so sharp it won’t cause much pain. Good.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I want you to remain clothed -- in fact, wear your favorite suit,” I tell him, shivering at just the thought of cutting the fabric off his body. I’d say goodbye, but that seems inappropriate considering our arrangement, so I hang up without giving him the chance to speak or ask questions. Not like he has any room to argue -- if he wants me to fuck him, then he’s got no choice but to listen.
I pull my hair back, tying it up high as I make my way out of my apartment. It’s getting too long again -- I’d cut it, but Jazz prefers it long. My stomach twists at that thought. Jazz isn’t coming back. I know that. Have known that since the moment he left -- but I still can’t fucking cut my goddamn hair. Fucking Christ, I don’t need to be thinking about this now.
I give myself a little shake, trying to think of something else. Like how skin just yields under a knife. How blood pools on the skin. My breath catches in my throat just thinking about it. How the hell I make it through surgery without getting hard is a total fucking mystery to me.
I’m at Mitchel’s apartment complex before I know it. Even taking the stairs two at a time, the handle of the knife digging painfully into my side. I can’t wait to show it to Mitchel. I don’t think the asshole has any fucking clue about this particular kink of mine. As much as he likes pain, though...
Well, he better not have a fucking problem with it. Otherwise I’m going back home and getting myself off again. While his hands do feel so much better than mine, I can take care of things myself if I need to.
His door flies open just as I put my knuckles on the wood and Mitchel pulls me inside and shuts the door behind me. Has me up against the wall just as quickly, his hands already tugging my shirt over my head as he grinds against me. It’s totally fucking hot, and I can’t help letting him think he’s getting his way for once as he kisses my neck and bites my shoulders.
Except I didn’t come here to let him top, as intriguing as that idea is, right now. Wonder if he’s anywhere near as good with his dick as he is with everything else. I grab his hair, wrench his head back while putting my lips to his throat and biting as hard as I can without drawing blood.
The way Mitchel squirms and whimpers is incredible. Reminds me of what I came here to do, in the first place. I drag him over to the couch and push him down on it, climbing into his lap as I pull out the knife I brought with me. Mitchel must be too focused on feeling up my bare chest because he doesn’t even see it until I have it pressed against his throat.
“We’re gonna do things a little bit differently today, Councilman,” I breathe, grinding myself against him a little bit. I’m careful with just how lightly I press the knife into his throat. Don’t want to cut him just yet -- though I think I already failed at that when he stiffens underneath me.
“How so, Emperor?” His voice is totally subdued and I finally let go of his hair, trailing my fingers down the side of his neck while I drag the flat side of the knife down to the collar of his shirt. His eyes follow every move of the knife.
“Tell me, how do you feel about blood?” I ask, and his eyes finally meet mine. They’re wide with fear and I can feel him swallow thickly.
“Yours or mine?” he counters, his voice annoyingly smooth despite the shiver that runs through his body.
“Considering that I’m the one holding the knife, well...” I trail off, licking my lips as I slice the top button off Mitchel’s shirt. He’s wearing a suit, just like I told him. Blood from where I pressed the knife to his throat’s already starting to pool and I can’t help bending forward and licking it from his skin. Can’t stop the quiet little moan that escapes me, either.
“Ah. Well then, Emperor, I guess I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?” he asks, his voice wavering as I bite his shoulder.
I smirk at him before pushing his jacket off his shoulders and tossing it aside. I’ll be nice and leave that piece of clothing intact. His shirt, though? Won’t be so fucking lucky. I already have the knife pressed against the fabric when Mitchel’s hand grabs my own.
“Don’t rush it, Emperor,” he purrs as I meet his eyes. There’s a small smirk on his face, though his eyes don’t look as confident. “I can only imagine how fluidly your hands move once a knife is in them. I wouldn’t want to, ah, miss that.”
I ignore how my face is suddenly way too warm as I drag the knife down his chest in one slow, fluid motion. No need for undoing buttons when the knife cuts through his shirt so fucking easily. He gasps -- even squirms slightly as I move the knife away from his chest and move it down his arms. I can feel him shiver and I know he’s hard now.
The thought of running the blade lightly over his cock makes me shiver. Like hell he’d let me anywhere near that particular part of his body with a sharp metal object, but the thought still excites me all the same. It’s not long before I’ve cut every piece of clothing off his body, each stroke of my knife getting closer and closer to breaking skin.
The whole time, I’m watching Mitchel’s face. How he winces ever so slightly every time the knife gets too close to his skin. How he bites his lip when I pull the knife away, the little whines that escape his throat.
He wants me to cut him. Even better, but he totally wants to watch. My own jeans are far too tight, now. I don’t even give him any warning as I pull him away from the couch. With how excited I am, I know I won’t be careful with how much I cut him and where the blood goes. Mitchel doesn’t even question it, instead following my lead and practically throwing himself down on his bed.
I slip out of my jeans before crawling on top of Mitchel. I almost, almost want to tie his wrists to the headboard but think better of it. I want him clawing at me while I cut him -- want to feel his nails dig into my skin. As I drag the flat side of the knife along the inside of his thighs, Mitchel shivers. Grasps his sheets as if I had dug the blade into his skin.
“I’ll tell you what, Mitchel,” I whisper, flicking my tongue over the tip of his cock. “If you let me cut wherever I want, I might consider letting you come. Hell, I might even consider letting you top.”
“Let me guess, Savin,” he moans as I slide my mouth down his length. “You want to cut a, ah, particularly sensitive part of my anatomy.”
Damn right I fucking do. I smirk, looking up at him over the edge of my glasses as I just suck his dick harder. Fucking Christ, he’s grabbing at my hair already. Just as he really digs in his nails, I pull my mouth away. “Well, Mitchel?” I prompt, lightly tracing around the head of his cock with the flat end of my knife.
There’s this slight look of panic in his eyes before he throws his head back, no doubt because he’s trying to hide it. “I’ll -- have to think about it, Emperor.”
Thinking about it won’t get him that orgasm he so desperately wants right now, but I’m not about to tell him that as I pull myself up and straddle him. The cut on his neck has already stopped bleeding, but I can’t help tracing my tongue along it anyway. I straighten out and place my knife very lightly on his chest. One shallow cut down his sternum.
I don’t know if that was me or Mitchel gasping involuntarily like that, but I totally don’t care either way. Mitchel’s squirming under me, panting and groaning as I bend forward and tease that cut with my tongue as well. My eyes nearly roll back into my head as I do it. I kinda want to be covered in his blood by the end of the night but I’m not sure how much of this Mitchel’ll really be able to take.
Either way, I’m totally about to find out.
“See, Councilman. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I breathe against his skin. I’m already thinking of the next place I want to cut -- maybe just under his ribs. Or even along his thighs. I want to make him jump and squirm as much as possible. I know how deep I can cut with this knife -- how I’d like to see if he’d tolerate me cutting into muscle, but I didn’t bring anything to sew him back up with, either.
Before Mitchel can even answer, I trace my initials into his skin, this time pressing the knife a little deeper. I take my time, feeling my own breath catch with each little gasp and shudder coming from Mitchel. The whole time he’s watching my face -- my hands. I put my knife down and tease the cuts with my fingers, smearing his blood all over him.
I’m painfully hard by now but I know that I likely won’t be able to do this again -- not with someone so willing to let me cut as deep and as many times as I want. Still, I let myself tease him after each cut, running my fingers along the edge of his cock. Blood’s an awful lube but it still helps slicken things when I wrap my fingers around him.
No matter where I cut him, though, it’s totally not enough. I think he knows it, too. He’s got his eyes closed, now, and his breath’s ragged. But he’s still hard and ready to go as tease the tip of his cock with my tongue again. All I can taste is blood at this point and I’m about ready to explode, but if I can get him to agree to one last cut...
“Had enough, Mitchel?” I ask, running my hands along his torn up thighs. Some of those are a little deeper than I intended -- not deep enough that I have to worry about stitching him back up afterwards, though.
When he shakes his head it’s all I can do to stop myself from grabbing the knife and doing one long, jagged cut across his stomach.
“I want you to, ah, cut me -- there, Savin.”
Or maybe I’ll just pick up my knife and press it to the tip of his cock instead. “You sure?” I push, hardly able to breathe myself. Please fucking say yes please please please.
“Yes,” he gasps. He’s already gripping the sheets tightly, as if he were preparing for me to press the knife even deeper into his skin.
I lick my lips. My heart is racing -- no one has ever trusted me enough to let me do this. I take my time, making sure to cut as lightly as I can -- and the slight cry that escapes his lips is more than fucking worth it. Especially as that cry grows louder when I keep cutting with small, light strokes. When I toss the knife aside and slid my mouth around his cock, we both moan.
As a reward for trusting me, I should let him come. Except I don’t want to know what his tastes like -- especially since everything tastes like blood at the moment, anyway. But as I look up at him over the edge of my glasses, my tongue teasing the underside of his cock, I think I know what I might do instead.
As he starts to tense, I stop. Crawl up along his body, which is sticky now with his blood and just turns me on even worse. I press my lips to his, eagerly deepening the kiss as I grind against him. I even position myself so that his cock rubs against my ass. If I ride him, I can control the depth and speed.
He breaks the kiss first, brushing his lips against my neck. “Can I...?” Mitchel trails off, pressing a finger against my entrance. The fact that he even thought to ask instead of just assuming he could take whatever he wanted makes me smirk to myself.
“Only if you don’t come unless I say so,” I purr, gasping as he pushes his finger inside of me. I arch my back and press myself against him. I’ve hardly touched myself this whole time and now any touch of his hands on my body sends electricity down my spine.
Mitchel doesn’t waste his time, sitting up more on his bed to make the angle a little easier to manage. I can feel him press against me now and I push back against him, my breath catching in my throat as the pain overwhelms me for a second. But with every roll of Mitchel’s hips it gets easier to manage, especially when I focus on all of the cuts I’ve put on Mitchel’s body instead. How I really am covered in his blood and how I almost want to be covered in something else of his, too.
“Slow down, Mitchel,” I groan, trying to match his rhythm. He must be more impatient than I thought, the way he’s practically slamming into me. And fucking Christ, does it feel amazing, but... “I didn’t say you could come.”
“I know,” he grunts, and he relents just a little bit. “Not going to, Savin.”
He starts following my lead immediately after that. Guess he does have more control over himself than I gave him credit for. I slide myself up and down his length slowly, wanting to tease even if he’s the one in me and not the other way around, for once. His nails are digging into my hips when they aren’t raking down my back. Feels fucking incredible.
It’s not long before my own thin control breaks. I grab one of Mitchel’s hands and wrap it around my cock while I just ride him harder than I have yet. I can feel myself getting close -- and judging by how harsh Mitchel’s thrusts are, he’s pretty fucking close, too.
I shouldn’t let him. He hasn’t begged for it. It’s bad enough I’m letting him fuck me, even if he’s just as good at using his dick as he is everything else. He keeps striking my spot and I don’t want him to fucking stop -- not when I’m so damn close.
As I cry out, he just tightens his hand around my dick and everything goes white as I come. I can’t quite catch my breath but I manage to get enough control of myself to get off of him. The strangled whine that escapes his throat when I do lets me know that he hasn’t come yet. “I think that’s enough pleasure for you today,” I murmur breathlessly in his ear.
“So I don’t -- I don’t get to --”
“Did I say you could?” Mitchel just shakes his head as I pull away from him entirely and move to get off the bed. “Then of course not, Councilman.”
Mitchel just groans and throws his head back against the pillows. As desperate as he looks right now, I almost climb back over to him.
Except I need to throw back on my clothes, go home, and take a shower. Let him take care of himself. “You can pleasure yourself,” I tell him as I pick up my knife -- and his eyes light up immediately. “But you can’t come until I’ve left your apartment.”
He nods his head vigorously, his hand flying to his cock in the same second I pull my pants back on. I trust him to listen to me as I walk out of his room and into the living room.
And that? That might be a problem.
After Mitchel’s little stunt of approaching me in the Palace Gardens a second time, the bastard’s been a bit more subdued. Hasn’t approached me at all -- not even after the Council meetings are done. The way he’s been looking at me, though? He’s totally fucking desperate to meet up again. Wonder how many times he’s had to sit under a cold fucking shower, now. I know I’ve had to have a few.
As much as the bastard likes pain, I wonder if I can convince him to indulge me in another one of my kinks. Fucking in public? Totally fucking hot. But knives? Oh, Mitchel has no fucking clue what that would do to me.
Except I know I need to be in complete control of myself. Blood alone gets me going. Cutting someone up and making them bleed? Even more so. It’s one of the reasons I even decided to go into surgery in the first place -- there’s nothing like cutting someone open and piecing them back together. Nothing like knowing someone’s life is entirely in your hands and that if you make one wrong move, it’s over.
Taking a scalpel to someone who’s asleep and can’t feel it? It’s nothing compared to someone who can. Mari wasn’t into it -- Jazz would let me if he didn’t have to see, but he’d never let me cut all that deep. He didn’t like pain -- and to be honest, I’m not exactly sure I was ever really comfortable hurting him during sex, either. Never seemed right.
But Mitchel? Not only can that bastard take a fucking beating but he totally wants to be left bruised and broken every time we fuck. I’ve got some free time tonight -- I keep thinking about bringing my knives over to his apartment. But if I’m gonna do that, I need to take a moment and pleasure myself. Clear my head a bit.
As much as I want to think about how I’m going to drag my knife across Mitchel’s skin, I can’t. I think about Jazz instead. How his voice sounds when he’s begging me to fuck him harder. How his nails dig into my back as he’s getting close. The way he bites his lip. It’s not long before my hand feels way too rough and I need release.
It only takes me a few more minutes of stroking myself to bring myself to the edge. I almost back off and give myself a moment to recover, but I don’t. Maybe if I come a second time I’ll be able to hold off long enough to get Mitchel close a handful of times. Maybe even get him to beg.
That’s the thought that pushes me over the edge the first time. And it’s what keeps me going even after I’ve gone soft in my own hand. It’s not long before I’m hard again, though. This time I can only focus on Mitchel, on how I want to drag the knife across his skin over and over again.
Once my head clears from my second orgasm, I get up from my bed and grab my phone. As I get dressed, I pull out my knife set from the closet. Some of them are ones that went “missing” from the surgical suite of the hospital, others are ones I’ve bought myself. I’ve only ever used one with Jazz -- and while I love the hell out of that knife, I don’t want to use the same one on Mitchel.
As I’m busy selecting a knife, Mitchel finally answers his phone. Bet he thinks he was being coy, not answering it right away. “Emperor,” he grunts into the phone, “It’s been a while.”
“Only a week, Councilman,” I’m quick to point out to him. “Surely an older man like yourself has more control over your baser needs than that?”
I must have said just the right thing, because Mitchel’s deliciously silent on the other end. Making him speechless is a difficult thing to do. “Are you at home, Councilman?” I ask, keeping my tone light as I finally choose the right knife. Just sharp enough to slice through skin easily, but not so sharp it won’t cause much pain. Good.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I want you to remain clothed -- in fact, wear your favorite suit,” I tell him, shivering at just the thought of cutting the fabric off his body. I’d say goodbye, but that seems inappropriate considering our arrangement, so I hang up without giving him the chance to speak or ask questions. Not like he has any room to argue -- if he wants me to fuck him, then he’s got no choice but to listen.
I pull my hair back, tying it up high as I make my way out of my apartment. It’s getting too long again -- I’d cut it, but Jazz prefers it long. My stomach twists at that thought. Jazz isn’t coming back. I know that. Have known that since the moment he left -- but I still can’t fucking cut my goddamn hair. Fucking Christ, I don’t need to be thinking about this now.
I give myself a little shake, trying to think of something else. Like how skin just yields under a knife. How blood pools on the skin. My breath catches in my throat just thinking about it. How the hell I make it through surgery without getting hard is a total fucking mystery to me.
I’m at Mitchel’s apartment complex before I know it. Even taking the stairs two at a time, the handle of the knife digging painfully into my side. I can’t wait to show it to Mitchel. I don’t think the asshole has any fucking clue about this particular kink of mine. As much as he likes pain, though...
Well, he better not have a fucking problem with it. Otherwise I’m going back home and getting myself off again. While his hands do feel so much better than mine, I can take care of things myself if I need to.
His door flies open just as I put my knuckles on the wood and Mitchel pulls me inside and shuts the door behind me. Has me up against the wall just as quickly, his hands already tugging my shirt over my head as he grinds against me. It’s totally fucking hot, and I can’t help letting him think he’s getting his way for once as he kisses my neck and bites my shoulders.
Except I didn’t come here to let him top, as intriguing as that idea is, right now. Wonder if he’s anywhere near as good with his dick as he is with everything else. I grab his hair, wrench his head back while putting my lips to his throat and biting as hard as I can without drawing blood.
The way Mitchel squirms and whimpers is incredible. Reminds me of what I came here to do, in the first place. I drag him over to the couch and push him down on it, climbing into his lap as I pull out the knife I brought with me. Mitchel must be too focused on feeling up my bare chest because he doesn’t even see it until I have it pressed against his throat.
“We’re gonna do things a little bit differently today, Councilman,” I breathe, grinding myself against him a little bit. I’m careful with just how lightly I press the knife into his throat. Don’t want to cut him just yet -- though I think I already failed at that when he stiffens underneath me.
“How so, Emperor?” His voice is totally subdued and I finally let go of his hair, trailing my fingers down the side of his neck while I drag the flat side of the knife down to the collar of his shirt. His eyes follow every move of the knife.
“Tell me, how do you feel about blood?” I ask, and his eyes finally meet mine. They’re wide with fear and I can feel him swallow thickly.
“Yours or mine?” he counters, his voice annoyingly smooth despite the shiver that runs through his body.
“Considering that I’m the one holding the knife, well...” I trail off, licking my lips as I slice the top button off Mitchel’s shirt. He’s wearing a suit, just like I told him. Blood from where I pressed the knife to his throat’s already starting to pool and I can’t help bending forward and licking it from his skin. Can’t stop the quiet little moan that escapes me, either.
“Ah. Well then, Emperor, I guess I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?” he asks, his voice wavering as I bite his shoulder.
I smirk at him before pushing his jacket off his shoulders and tossing it aside. I’ll be nice and leave that piece of clothing intact. His shirt, though? Won’t be so fucking lucky. I already have the knife pressed against the fabric when Mitchel’s hand grabs my own.
“Don’t rush it, Emperor,” he purrs as I meet his eyes. There’s a small smirk on his face, though his eyes don’t look as confident. “I can only imagine how fluidly your hands move once a knife is in them. I wouldn’t want to, ah, miss that.”
I ignore how my face is suddenly way too warm as I drag the knife down his chest in one slow, fluid motion. No need for undoing buttons when the knife cuts through his shirt so fucking easily. He gasps -- even squirms slightly as I move the knife away from his chest and move it down his arms. I can feel him shiver and I know he’s hard now.
The thought of running the blade lightly over his cock makes me shiver. Like hell he’d let me anywhere near that particular part of his body with a sharp metal object, but the thought still excites me all the same. It’s not long before I’ve cut every piece of clothing off his body, each stroke of my knife getting closer and closer to breaking skin.
The whole time, I’m watching Mitchel’s face. How he winces ever so slightly every time the knife gets too close to his skin. How he bites his lip when I pull the knife away, the little whines that escape his throat.
He wants me to cut him. Even better, but he totally wants to watch. My own jeans are far too tight, now. I don’t even give him any warning as I pull him away from the couch. With how excited I am, I know I won’t be careful with how much I cut him and where the blood goes. Mitchel doesn’t even question it, instead following my lead and practically throwing himself down on his bed.
I slip out of my jeans before crawling on top of Mitchel. I almost, almost want to tie his wrists to the headboard but think better of it. I want him clawing at me while I cut him -- want to feel his nails dig into my skin. As I drag the flat side of the knife along the inside of his thighs, Mitchel shivers. Grasps his sheets as if I had dug the blade into his skin.
“I’ll tell you what, Mitchel,” I whisper, flicking my tongue over the tip of his cock. “If you let me cut wherever I want, I might consider letting you come. Hell, I might even consider letting you top.”
“Let me guess, Savin,” he moans as I slide my mouth down his length. “You want to cut a, ah, particularly sensitive part of my anatomy.”
Damn right I fucking do. I smirk, looking up at him over the edge of my glasses as I just suck his dick harder. Fucking Christ, he’s grabbing at my hair already. Just as he really digs in his nails, I pull my mouth away. “Well, Mitchel?” I prompt, lightly tracing around the head of his cock with the flat end of my knife.
There’s this slight look of panic in his eyes before he throws his head back, no doubt because he’s trying to hide it. “I’ll -- have to think about it, Emperor.”
Thinking about it won’t get him that orgasm he so desperately wants right now, but I’m not about to tell him that as I pull myself up and straddle him. The cut on his neck has already stopped bleeding, but I can’t help tracing my tongue along it anyway. I straighten out and place my knife very lightly on his chest. One shallow cut down his sternum.
I don’t know if that was me or Mitchel gasping involuntarily like that, but I totally don’t care either way. Mitchel’s squirming under me, panting and groaning as I bend forward and tease that cut with my tongue as well. My eyes nearly roll back into my head as I do it. I kinda want to be covered in his blood by the end of the night but I’m not sure how much of this Mitchel’ll really be able to take.
Either way, I’m totally about to find out.
“See, Councilman. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I breathe against his skin. I’m already thinking of the next place I want to cut -- maybe just under his ribs. Or even along his thighs. I want to make him jump and squirm as much as possible. I know how deep I can cut with this knife -- how I’d like to see if he’d tolerate me cutting into muscle, but I didn’t bring anything to sew him back up with, either.
Before Mitchel can even answer, I trace my initials into his skin, this time pressing the knife a little deeper. I take my time, feeling my own breath catch with each little gasp and shudder coming from Mitchel. The whole time he’s watching my face -- my hands. I put my knife down and tease the cuts with my fingers, smearing his blood all over him.
I’m painfully hard by now but I know that I likely won’t be able to do this again -- not with someone so willing to let me cut as deep and as many times as I want. Still, I let myself tease him after each cut, running my fingers along the edge of his cock. Blood’s an awful lube but it still helps slicken things when I wrap my fingers around him.
No matter where I cut him, though, it’s totally not enough. I think he knows it, too. He’s got his eyes closed, now, and his breath’s ragged. But he’s still hard and ready to go as tease the tip of his cock with my tongue again. All I can taste is blood at this point and I’m about ready to explode, but if I can get him to agree to one last cut...
“Had enough, Mitchel?” I ask, running my hands along his torn up thighs. Some of those are a little deeper than I intended -- not deep enough that I have to worry about stitching him back up afterwards, though.
When he shakes his head it’s all I can do to stop myself from grabbing the knife and doing one long, jagged cut across his stomach.
“I want you to, ah, cut me -- there, Savin.”
Or maybe I’ll just pick up my knife and press it to the tip of his cock instead. “You sure?” I push, hardly able to breathe myself. Please fucking say yes please please please.
“Yes,” he gasps. He’s already gripping the sheets tightly, as if he were preparing for me to press the knife even deeper into his skin.
I lick my lips. My heart is racing -- no one has ever trusted me enough to let me do this. I take my time, making sure to cut as lightly as I can -- and the slight cry that escapes his lips is more than fucking worth it. Especially as that cry grows louder when I keep cutting with small, light strokes. When I toss the knife aside and slid my mouth around his cock, we both moan.
As a reward for trusting me, I should let him come. Except I don’t want to know what his tastes like -- especially since everything tastes like blood at the moment, anyway. But as I look up at him over the edge of my glasses, my tongue teasing the underside of his cock, I think I know what I might do instead.
As he starts to tense, I stop. Crawl up along his body, which is sticky now with his blood and just turns me on even worse. I press my lips to his, eagerly deepening the kiss as I grind against him. I even position myself so that his cock rubs against my ass. If I ride him, I can control the depth and speed.
He breaks the kiss first, brushing his lips against my neck. “Can I...?” Mitchel trails off, pressing a finger against my entrance. The fact that he even thought to ask instead of just assuming he could take whatever he wanted makes me smirk to myself.
“Only if you don’t come unless I say so,” I purr, gasping as he pushes his finger inside of me. I arch my back and press myself against him. I’ve hardly touched myself this whole time and now any touch of his hands on my body sends electricity down my spine.
Mitchel doesn’t waste his time, sitting up more on his bed to make the angle a little easier to manage. I can feel him press against me now and I push back against him, my breath catching in my throat as the pain overwhelms me for a second. But with every roll of Mitchel’s hips it gets easier to manage, especially when I focus on all of the cuts I’ve put on Mitchel’s body instead. How I really am covered in his blood and how I almost want to be covered in something else of his, too.
“Slow down, Mitchel,” I groan, trying to match his rhythm. He must be more impatient than I thought, the way he’s practically slamming into me. And fucking Christ, does it feel amazing, but... “I didn’t say you could come.”
“I know,” he grunts, and he relents just a little bit. “Not going to, Savin.”
He starts following my lead immediately after that. Guess he does have more control over himself than I gave him credit for. I slide myself up and down his length slowly, wanting to tease even if he’s the one in me and not the other way around, for once. His nails are digging into my hips when they aren’t raking down my back. Feels fucking incredible.
It’s not long before my own thin control breaks. I grab one of Mitchel’s hands and wrap it around my cock while I just ride him harder than I have yet. I can feel myself getting close -- and judging by how harsh Mitchel’s thrusts are, he’s pretty fucking close, too.
I shouldn’t let him. He hasn’t begged for it. It’s bad enough I’m letting him fuck me, even if he’s just as good at using his dick as he is everything else. He keeps striking my spot and I don’t want him to fucking stop -- not when I’m so damn close.
As I cry out, he just tightens his hand around my dick and everything goes white as I come. I can’t quite catch my breath but I manage to get enough control of myself to get off of him. The strangled whine that escapes his throat when I do lets me know that he hasn’t come yet. “I think that’s enough pleasure for you today,” I murmur breathlessly in his ear.
“So I don’t -- I don’t get to --”
“Did I say you could?” Mitchel just shakes his head as I pull away from him entirely and move to get off the bed. “Then of course not, Councilman.”
Mitchel just groans and throws his head back against the pillows. As desperate as he looks right now, I almost climb back over to him.
Except I need to throw back on my clothes, go home, and take a shower. Let him take care of himself. “You can pleasure yourself,” I tell him as I pick up my knife -- and his eyes light up immediately. “But you can’t come until I’ve left your apartment.”
He nods his head vigorously, his hand flying to his cock in the same second I pull my pants back on. I trust him to listen to me as I walk out of his room and into the living room.
And that? That might be a problem.