Fic: Whetstone (Bob/Mikey)
Title: Whetstone
Author: pushkin666
Pairing: Bob/Mikey
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,579
Disclaimer: See Community Introduction Post
Warnings/enticements: BDSM, knifeplay, see Community Introduction Post for further information
Summary: He hadn't expected Mikey to react like this; to actually be turned on by the feel of the blade against his skin, the danger inherent in it. Hope surged in his chest for a brief moment before he forcibly dampened it down. It was too soon to get excited by this, too early to believe that Mikey wanted this as much as Bob did.
Author notes: Very excited to post the first fic of many in this 'verse! Many thanks to the invaluable dreamersdare for the beta.
Ever since they first started seeing each other Bob has wondered whether Mikey is actually interested in the BDSM scene or whether he thinks it's something he needs to do to keep Bob's interest. They haven't played much up to now, although Mikey has been to the club on a number of occasions. They’ve certainly never tried anything as intense as tonight may turn out to be. Bob always tried to be honest with himself and he had to admit that he was nervous about Mikey's reaction.
It was Mikey after all who had asked for this, after seeing the latest demonstration at the club two weekends ago. It had been Patrick and Brendon giving a workshop on bladeplay. Admittedly, they'd gone all the way; Patrick cutting Brendon twice, breaking the skin enough to bleed but not to scar. Mikey had been hyper afterwards, asking Bob if they could try it, wearing him down from the initial barked ‘No’ to an ‘alright, but no breaking the skin.’
Bob wasn't comfortable about this, but it certainly wasn’t because he was inexperienced. He considered himself an expert in knifeplay and had trained many tops in the practice, including Spencer, who as a student was an absolute joy. Nor was it because he didn’t want to - the thought of running a sharp blade over Mikey's flesh made him so hard he almost couldn't breathe; he was just concerned about Mikey's reactions. One wrong move by Mikey could result in Bob cutting him, something he didn't want to do. Well, not unless they'd mutually agreed on it beforehand.
If tonight went well that could be something to consider for the future. Bob liked the idea of seeing his knives cut into Mikey's skin, making him bleed; deep enough to scar. He shivered. Not tonight though.
Tonight he wasn't going to use any of his really sharp knives, choosing instead one of the duller ones. This was the type of knife that he used when training up new tops; showing them how to use the blade correctly until he was satisfied with their competence and they were comfortable enough to move onto the sharper ones.
Bob set the knives on the table and took a step back. He looked at Mikey, at the young man that he would love to call his sub in his heart of hearts - if only Mikey believed it himself and knew what it really meant to Bob. Mikey was sat in a chair, his arms tied behind the back of the chair. As ordered, he’d dressed in boxers and an old loose t-shirt that he was happy for Bob to destroy. Mikey was wearing socks and Bob had put the heating on so Mikey wouldn’t get cold. The last thing he needed was for Mikey to start shivering. He looked gorgeous and vulnerable, and Bob’s breath caught as he stared at him. Mikey was... beautiful. There was no other word for it.
"Are you alright?" Bob asked, running his hand through Mikey's hair.
Mikey nodded, his eyes not leaving Bob's.
"You still want to do this?"
Mikey nodded silently and Bob shook his head. "You have to tell me, Mikey. Out loud." He needed to hear Mikey say it.
"Please, Bob. I want you to do this. I've wanted you to do this since we saw Patrick and Brendon. I can't stop thinking about it. Please..." Mikey was pleading now and Bob put a hand on his wrist. Mikey instantly calmed.
"It's alright, Mikey. I was just checking. We're doing this. So..." Bob straightened up. “You need to remain completely still while we’re doing this. I'm not going to use sharp knives on you. Not this time. I will use one to cut your t-shirt off you but then I'll switch to a different knife. Even though it's not razor sharp it will still cut you if you move unexpectedly. If you jerk or move at all, I'll stop. You feel uncomfortable at any point then you use your safeword and I’ll stop. Do you understand me, Mikey?" It wasn’t just courtesy; Bob needed Mikey to confirm that he was with Bob all the way.
"Yes." Mikey's voice was hesitant, but his eyes were sure as he stared at Bob.
"Tell me your safeword again." Bob knew what it was of course; he just wanted to remind Mikey of it. He always asked a sub to give their safeword at the beginning of an intense scene, even if they'd played together many times before. It helped set the scene, made the sub feel more comfortable. Bob always thought that the safeword told something about the person too.
"Unicorn," Mikey told him.
Bob smiled down at him. "Good boy," he said, watching how Mikey relaxed slightly at the praise.
Bob moved around the back of the chair, checking the knots on Mikey's wrists. He slid a finger under the rope to check that they weren't chafing, that Mikey hadn't pulled too hard against them. "How do these feel?" he asked.
"Okay," Mikey replied. "They feel okay."
Bob sighed silently. Okay was a word that Mikey used far too often for his liking, but Bob knew sometimes it was difficult for Mikey to articulate clearly how he felt. In that respect he was very like Gerard. Bob often needed to prompt Mikey with further questions, just to understand exactly what Mikey was feeling.
"Are they hurting?" he asked.
"No." Mikey twisted his head to look at Bob. "They're fine, Bob. They don't hurt and..." he moved his hands trying to pull his wrists apart, "I can't get free."
"Good, that's good." Bob ran his hands up Mikey's arms, the skin smooth underneath his fingers and then moved around to the front of the chair. He stood for a moment just staring at Mikey. He was so damned hot and there was no way Bob was going to hurt him, well not without intention. He took a breath and then stepped over to the side table, picking up the sharpest knife he’d taken out.
"This one I'm going to use to cut your t-shirt off you." Bob brought the knife over to Mikey and held it out so he could see it. Bob carefully nicked his own arm with the blade, cutting through his skin easily, causing a small drop of crimson blood to spill down.
"This is very sharp," Bob said. "You don't move when I'm cutting your t-shirt. I know I keep repeating myself Mikey, but just remember. Don't move."
Mikey nodded and Bob put the knife down. "Once that's done I'm going to use the other knife.” Bob picked it up and ran it over his arm. "See. This won't cut as easily. I'll use the flat side and the tip, but I won't use the edge of the blade."
He stared at Mikey for a moment. "Alright." Bob took a deep breath, stilling himself. "Let's start."
Asking Mikey again if he was okay might just unsettle him. Besides, he trusted Mikey to tell him to stop, to use his safeword when he needed. So far, that was working. Mikey hadn't been reticent about speaking up when he wasn’t comfortable.
Bob picked up the sharp knife. "Keep still," he told Mikey
He slid his left hand under Mikey's t-shirt and pulled the fabric taut, away from Mikey's body. Keeping the blade pointed outwards he pushed the knife under the cloth.
Bob could feel tremors running over Mikey’s' body. He held Mikey’s' gaze for a moment before beginning to slice through the t-shirt. Once he'd cut through the neck seam it was easy, the fabric parting like soft butter.
Bob pushed the two parts aside, baring Mikey's chest and stomach to his gaze. Mikey was gorgeous, although a little too thin for Bob’s usual tastes; his ribs and collar bones prominent under the thin stretch of skin. Bob swallowed. He wanted to run his hands over Mikey’s flesh, hold Mikey down by his hips, press his thumbs deep and leave bruises.
Bob shook his head, clearing it. Some other time. He needed to be calm right now, to make sure that Mikey didn’t regret asking Bob to do this.
He had known Mikey for a few years now and he’d always thought he was as highly strung as his brother, just hiding it better. It showed in the way he looked after himself, or didn’t in Bob’s opinion. If it were up to him he’d be taking Mikey in hand properly; making sure he ate, taking him down when he needed it and pulling him out of himself when it was necessary.
But Bob still wasn’t sure if Mikey really wanted that. He shrugged internally. This was getting him nowhere. He needed to concentrate on Mikey now.
“You’re doing fine,” he told Mikey. “Now I’m going to deal with the arms. Keep still for me.” Mikey nodded, his eyes never leaving Bob’s face. Bob quickly cut through the arms of the t-shirt and then pushed the tattered remains aside so Mikey’s upper body was completely bare to his gaze.
Bob swallowed and put the knife onto the side table, picking up the duller blade. "Keep still, Mikey, and remember to breathe."
Mikey nodded again and Bob stepped in front of him. He wanted Mikey to see what he was doing with the knife before he moved behind him, wanted Mikey to be comfortable with the feel of the metal against his skin before it went out of his sight. He held the tip against Mikey's left shoulder and trailed it slowly and carefully down Mikey's arm. Mikey shivered slightly, but said nothing.
Bob focused his attention on Mikey as he drew the blade over Mikey's skin, tracing the outline of his body.
Mikey's breathing quickened under the knife’s caress, but he kept still, his eyes focused on the movement of the knife. Once Bob felt that Mikey was comfortable he walked behind him. Bob trailed the tip of the knife over Mikey's back. Even though the knife wasn't the sharpest he owned it was still enough to leave a red mark as he drew it over Mikey's pale skin. Bob concentrated on the patterns and designs he was tracing over Mikey, ignoring his own arousal at the sight of his marks all over Mickey’s skin in favour of focusing on the cadence of Mikey’s breathing. He took his time, waiting until he was satisfied with what he’d created, before he stepped back in front of Mikey.
He was surprised to see that Mikey was hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric of his boxer shorts. He hadn't expected Mikey to react like this; to actually be turned on by the feel of the blade against his skin, the danger inherent in it. Hope surged in his chest for a brief moment before he forcibly dampened it down. It was too soon to get excited by this, too early to believe that Mikey wanted this as much as Bob did.
He wanted to be Mikey’s Dom in every sense of the word, beyond topping in a scene. He swallowed and wrenched his mind back onto what he was doing. It was something to think about later, when Mikey was safely asleep and Bob could process what had happened.
He moved the knife again and Mikey whimpered softly, the sound bringing all of Bob's dominant instincts to attention. He wanted to push Mikey down onto the bed, tell him to hold still and cut into him; make him bleed. He wanted to claim Mikey and mark him; with hands and mouth, knives and whips. Anything that would show that Mikey was his. Mine! his mind snarled and it took all of Bob’s considerable control to stop himself from doing just that. He managed it - would have been disgusted with himself if he had failed - but it was a damned close thing.
Bob stilled, making sure he was under control for the rest of the session. It seemed to go on for hours, even though it couldn’t have done. Bob could feel himself falling deep, lost in a silence that was broken only by Mikey’s erratic breaths. Mikey remained hard throughout, even when, again to Bob's surprise, he zoned out; body completely still and relaxed, breathing deep and slow, eyes closed.
Finally, Bob stopped, taking a step back and gradually becoming aware of their surroundings. He put the knife down onto table; it was an effort to relax his grip on the handle, his fingers aching from the strain. Carefully, he untied Mikey's hands. He was still checked out, eyes fluttering open as Bob pulled him up from the chair; gaze unfocused.
Bob guided him into the bedroom and removed the rest of Mikey's clothes, all the time telling Mikey how beautiful he looked, what a good boy he'd been for Bob, how pleased Bob was. Through it all, Mikey stayed hard.
Mikey wasn't exactly steady on his feet and Bob kept hold of him, gently pushing him down onto the bed. Bob’s hands were shaking as he fetched a bottle of water from the bedside table. He needed to sit down to calm himself, to bring himself down from his own high. That instinct that made him look at Mikey and just want to posses; to love and hurt, to take Mikey apart and then put him back together again.
He opened the water bottle and held it to Mikey's mouth, his other hand on the back of Mikey's neck. Mikey swallowed obediently and Bob gave him some more, letting him drink slowly until the bottle was empty.
"Bob.” Mikey’s voice deep and slurred and Bob hushed him, sinking down onto the floor and spread his legs.
Mikey looked down at him, wide-eyed now, his cock red and wet and right there. Bob leant forward, swiping his tongue over the sensitive head, before swallowing him down.
He held Mikey's legs apart, his fingers digging into his thighs. They'd leave a mark and Bob was fiercely glad for that. Mikey strained against Bob's hands, trying to push up to him and Bob knew it wouldn't take long.
He was right. It was only moments later that Mikey cried out, filling Bob's mouth. Bob licked lazily over the softening flesh, not letting go until Mikey whined softly in protest. He was sweating, his eyes still unfocused and his lips swollen where he'd bitten at them as he came. He looked gorgeous and debauched and Bob couldn’t help himself. He turned his head and sank his teeth into Mikey’s right thigh, biting down hard enough to leave a bruise. Mikey cried out at the pain, but he didn't move, his body slack against the bed.
Bob pushed himself up. His legs were unsteady and he kept his hands on the bed. He was glad to see his teeth had left a mark.
He settled Mikey under the covers, fetched him another bottle of water and then left him to sleep.
It wasn’t until he was safely away from Mikey, in the other room, that Bob started to shake. He grabbed himself a glass of bourbon and sat on the couch, trying unsuccessfully to calm himself down. He couldn’t wipe the pictures of Mikey under the knife out of his head and he let himself fall back against the cushions with a low groan.
It was going to be a long night.