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“Maybe not tonight,” he says, “but I will.”
I drop my head against the wall, silently praying for strength.
“You really want me to carve my name into you?” I ask, looking at him again. He nods eagerly.
“Anyone can get married. Anyone can make promises. But this—” He waves his knife around. “This is truly forever. Tattoos can be removed, scars can’t.”
“You’re insane,” I breathe. “Truly fucking insane.”
“I’ve never pretended to be anything else,” he says, grinning wickedly. “Your name, right here.” He pats the inside of his thigh, and I take a deep breath.
“You really want this?” I ask again, and he nods. I push off the wall, and walk toward him. My knees are shaky, and by the time I get to him, I collapse to the floor between his legs.
His cock stands up, resting against his lower stomach. I try not to look at it, but fuck, it’s right in my face and leaking precum. He’sgenuinelyexcited for this.
He holds the knife out to me, handle first. I hesitate before grabbing it, our eyes locking.
“Your name,” he says, rubbing his thigh again. “Make it deep.”
My heart is in my throat as I spin the blade around, trying to figure out the best way to hold it to do this.
I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this.
I let out a long breath as I press the tip of the blade against his thigh. He lets out a muted grunt, and I glance up at him, finding him with wild eyes.
“Do it,” he breathes.
With a final breath, I drag the blade down. Blood immediately wells, then begins to drip down his thigh. Instincts kick in, and I press my hand against the wound.
“Oh my God. Oh my God!” I panic. “I can’t believe I did that. Does it hurt?”
“No,” he groans. He grips his cock in his fist, the head turning an angry shade of reddish purple. “Keep going.” He pumps himself as I watch, mesmerized.
I pull my bloodied hand away and make the next cut. He groans and slams his fist down, gripping the base of his cock tighter. I quickly make the last slash in theKand let out a breath.
“Lick it,” he grunts and I snap my head to him. “Taste me, Kens.”
“No one said anything about licking your blood,” I say. He swipes his finger through his blood and brings it to his mouth. I watch with a strange mix of curiosity, horror, and arousal as he sucks it off his finger, groaning at the taste.
My mouth waters. It’s the first time in my life I’ve been truly worried about my mental state.
This can’t be normal.
Then again, Kiwi isn’t normal.
I hesitate as I move toward his leg. His eyes open, locking on mine as I trace the cuts with the tip of my tongue.
“Fuck,” he groans, drawing the word out. “Suck on it.” I wrap my mouth around the cut and flick my tongue over it before sucking gently. His arm holding him up goes weak, and he nearly falls back on the bed. “Fuck.Fuck.”
The warm coppery tang fills my mouth, and surprisingly, it’s not unpleasant. It’s not as gross as I thought it would be. It’s not great either. Tolerable.
I pull my mouth away, breathing heavy. It’s still bleeding, and the sight of the crimson contrasting his pale inner thigh is turning me on more than anything else ever has.
Fuck.
I need to go to therapy.
“Keep going,” he growls.
