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Kas grins, looking mischievous.
“I thought so. Lie down. On your stomach.”
His brows furrow briefly before he turns around and stretches his body across the floor, utilizing the mat as a protection layer between his dick and the cold floor.
I pull open one of the kitchen drawers, removing a small paring knife before straddling his waist.
“The next time you think it’s okay to kill someone without me, I want you to remember this.” I let the tip of the knife penetrate his skin across his shoulder, dragging it down slightly. “Just like I know what you need and how you get, you should know my desires. Cutting you is nice, and it allows me to enjoy a small amount of my bloodlust, but you know I want more,” I say, making the next cut deeper. “I don’t want to hurt you like that, Kaspian.”
He takes in a shuddering breath as I make another cut, his fists squeezing the edge of the mat. When I give him some reprieve, he breathes deeply.
“I know, but I’ll take it. I’ll accept the pain. For you.”
“I want more,” I say through gritted teeth, restraining my hand from plunging the knife deep into his back. “I’m losing grip on my control.”
“You want more.” He doesn’t form it as a question, just simply repeating what I said.
I finish my cuts, deeper than I usually go, and press my hand into the wounds and feel his blood on my fingers. I smear it into his skin, listening to him hiss and gasp at the pain. With my free hand, I stroke my cock and let the other hand spread the crimson liquid across his shoulders and to his neck.
I press down on the lines, watching as more red drops emerge from his skin, forming small rivulets, and then I coat my fingers once more. I get up and flip him to his back, watching him grimace as I place my hand on his chest. I want to see the blood on him as I come, but I also want to see his face.
“The way you came into my life was a fucking nightmare,” I say, causing him to furrow his brow. “A fucking liar and manipulator. Someone I knew I’d never trust. I wanted you dead multiple times. I wanted it to be me that ended you.” I stroke my shaft faster as I watch him process my words. “You put your trust in me when you shouldn’t,” I growl. “I can’t live without you, and yet, in these moments, when I hold a knife to your flesh, I want to run the blade all the way through. I need a release, Kaspian. Your life is in danger the longer I have to wait, you understand?”
He nods once. “Your darkness doesn’t scare me, Quin. I won’t go without a fight.”
“It’s why we’re meant for each other,” I say with a smirk.
His eyes twinkle. “Come on me. I know you want to mix it in with my blood, you fucking sicko.”
I roll my shoulders and let my head drop back as I stroke. Kaspian spurs me on with filthy words, begging for my release.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, hunching over and shooting my cum onto his chest.
Some of it hits his chin, but he doesn’t move to wipe it off. He just stares into my eyes and grabs my bloodied hand, bringing it to his face. He takes my forefinger and uses it to wipe the cum from his chin until it’s at his bottom lip. His tongue slides out, licking it up before he takes my finger into his mouth and sucks, tasting his blood on my skin as well.
The sight makes my cock twitch, cum still dripping from the slit.
“We taste so good together,” he says in a husky tone. “Like sin and chaos.”
I lean forward and plunge my tongue into his mouth. Several minutes later, we’re a tangle of limbs as we lie on the floor covered in blood and cum—a perfect portrait of everything most people would find disturbing, yet we find typical.
5
KASPIAN
Once we’ve showered, and as Quin bandages the cuts on my back, I ask him a question that’s been on my mind since the words left his mouth. It’s not how he knew I was acting out for his attention, because that’s obvious. I know he can see through my lies sometimes. When I’m too angry I’m not good at shielding my emotions. I wasn’t out with anyone today, but he seemed to know that. He never questioned who he was. It bothers me that he doesn’t act jealous, but maybe it’s just because he’s more secure than I am.
“Why do you consider me a nightmare?”
He chuckles, his voice deep. I watch him through the mirror in the bathroom as he finishes up with the bandage. His eyes meet mine in the reflection, his arm wrapping around my shoulders, his muscular forearm at my neck.
“Nightmares are classified as things that leave people shaken. They wake up with a rapid heartbeat and fear coursing through their veins. The disturbing themes frighten them.” He runs his knuckles down my cheek. “I always enjoyed my nightmares. I would wake up and smile, relishing the same symptoms others consider negative. My heart racing, adrenaline pumping, and memories of images that were typically my constant state of mind. They didn’t scare me, they gave me a thrill.” He grips my chin. “You are a nightmare in the best way. My heart races when you’re around. The things we do together make my adrenaline pump, filling me with an intoxication you can’t get from any drug on the planet. The dark imagery you’re capable of creating with a weapon and your hands gives me a thrill similar to when I plunge a knife into someone’s heart. You are a nightmare, Kaspian, but there’s nothing negative about that.”
He stares at me for a few seconds before walking away, and all I want to do is tell him how much I fucking love him. It’s rare that I’m overcome with these feelings. I don’t even expect them half the time. I told Quin years ago I didn’t need him to love me because I wouldn’t believe it anyway, and I’m sure he feels the same. I don’t know that I actually love him. Not the way most people love their partners. We’re very different, but I feel something. Who says I need to have the same definition of love as everyone else? Why can’t my love be different? Everything else about us is.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and smile. “A beautiful fucking nightmare,” I whisper, thrilled by his words.
* * *
