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“My pain felt like a poison, slowly leaking into my bloodstream. On bad days it itched so bad under my skin that I found it impossible to focus,” she explains, and I can relate to every word.
“I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway because it felt too good to spill a little of that poison out of me.”
“Rogue, what are you talking about?” I ask, trying to make sense out of what she’s saying.
She takes my hand, guiding it so my fingers slip over the inside of her arm, and beneath her colorful tattoos, I feel bumps and ridges that I’ve never noticed before.
“It’s easy to mask pain, you just need to find a distraction,” she whispers.
“You did that to yourself?” I check, feeling all my muscles tense.
“For a while, when things got really bad,” she admits. “But I stopped when Skid started to notice.”
“And did it make the pain go away?” I ask her, curious.
“For a little while, but it always came back.”
“So what are you saying, Rogue?” I look at her fiercely, I want to make whoever made her do that to herself fucking suffer.
“I feel that same release when you're inside me,” she tells me. “And I wonder how it would feel if you maybe…”
“No, absolutely not.” I pull back from her, this is too much. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.
“Grimm, I want to test us. We need to know each other’s limits. I want you to cut my skin, and bleed some of the pain out of me.”
I scrub my hand over my face when my dick gets hard at the idea.
“Rogue, you don’t know what you're asking me to do.” I shake my head.
“I’m asking you to give in to your desires. I'm giving you my permission and trusting you,” she explains calmly.
Her hand slides over my torso on its path to the bedside table where the knife I took off my belt last night is resting. I grab her throat in the arch of my hand to stop her and she smiles at me darkly.
“You don’t scare me. You won’t hurt me. I can’t be hurt anymore. She takes my wrist in her hand and pulls it slowly away from her skin and in replacement of her slender throat, she presses the handle of the knife into my palm, before shifting her hot little body to straddle me.
I trail the tip of the knife over her skin, starting at her collarbone and finishing at her waistband and as I slide it across her pelvic bone, she throws her head back and grinds against my hard cock.
“You really want this?” I check, my voice coming out weak.
Can I trust myself? What if I like watching her bleed too much to stop?
“Yeah.” She nods back at me, taking my wrist again and guiding my hand back up to her collar bone. “Here,” she instructs, and I hesitate before I act. I know I’m gonna enjoy this far too much but I promised myself I wouldn’t test myself with her.
“Do it.” Her eyes flare at me.
I press the tip of the knife into her skin and drag it slowly through her flesh, and she sighs so beautifully I couldn’t regret it even if I wanted to. Her blood drips onto my knife, and the tiny rotations her hips make against me have me desperate to be inside her. So I thrust her up with my hips, slide my free hand between us to grab my cock, and slowly edge it inside her. Rogue takes the knife from my hand and licks herself off my blade, her tongue sliding flat against its metal while her pussy clenches around me.
“Fuck, I wanna taste you.” I grab her throat, dragging her onto my mouth and tasting the copper tinge from her lips and tongue.
She’s holding the knife now. She could slit my fucking throat if she wanted to. I pull back and watch the small streams of blood weep from the slit I put in her skin, mesmerized as it slowly trickles over her chest and drips onto her nipple.
There’s more than I expected there to be. I purposely didn’t cut too deep so I wouldn’t scar her, and I give into temptation, fisting her blood-streaked tit in my palm and watching her blood stain me. I find it fascinating how she can counteract all my triggers. I’m craving more of her blood on my skin, and the taste of her in my mouth feels like it belongs there.
“Again, here,” Rogue presses the blade against her lower belly, digging its point into her skin. And with her sticky blood coating my hand, I slide my fingers down her body and take control of the knife again.
Her life is in my hands and it feels so fucking precious.
I stare into her eyes as I make another incision and her finger trails through the gash, collecting more blood that she coats my lips with. I snatch her fingertip between my teeth and narrow my eyes at her. How can it be possible to worship something and hate it at the same time?
