I take the knife and drag it along his right thigh as I lean over him slightly. Just enough that he’ll feel the blade but not enough to actually cut him. Not yet.
“Anything?” he asks me.
I keep my eyes on his thigh as I reply. “Anything, Tommaso.”
It’s more than I should be admitting, yet I do. I can already imagine the guilt that I’ll feel later. Even after the conversation we had. But I push it down as far as I can. I want to enjoy this moment. As if it’s the last one we’ll have.
Because it very well could be.
The danger of the moment only turns me on more.
“Even…breed me?” he asks, breathless. At the same time, I slice into the soft flesh of his thigh and watch as crimson drips down onto his bedsheets. Feeling his skin buckle and part beneath my hand is so completely satisfying. Hearing him hiss in pain and then exhale in pleasure is even more so.
“Breed you?” I ask him with a chuckle. “Is that what you want?” I ask him lowly. “You want me to pretend to plant my seed in you, Tommy?” I cut him again, this time on the opposite thigh, right near the cuts from before. I fight the urge to lean down and lick his blood from his skin. I want it to stain him and the duvet.
Tommy grunts. “Maybe I do.”
I look up at him finally, then down at his ever-hardening cock.
“How pathetic of you,” I tease him.
I lean down until my mouth is just an inch from his length and I breath against him. He shifts his hips up like he expects to be able to slide himself into the warmth velvet of my mouth, but I back up, and simply let my hot breath wash over his pulsing skin.
“Aleksandr…” he moans.
“Hmm, how impatient you are,” I whisper. I cut him again. This time deeper. Deep enough that any more and he would need stitches.
I toss my knife to the side and I press my fingers down into the wound, feeling his blood against my fingertips. Warm, slippery…visceral.
“You bleed so good for me,” I tell him. “Do you like when I cut you?”
Tommy shifts under my touch and his hips grind against the air.
“Y-Yes….Sir,” he says, remembering my honorific without needing to be told.
I can’t resist. I pop those two fingers covered in his blood into my mouth and taste it. Like iron and dirt. I inhale the smell of sex in the room and it only makes the taste more potent.
“Mmm, you taste so good,” I say.
Then, I do exactly as he told me I wouldn’t. I leave the room.
It takes some willpower not to walk right back in the second he notices I’m gone. He groans.
“Alek,” he calls for me.
I lean against the wall beside the doorframe.
I can picture him in there. Squirming on the bed. Rocking his hips up into the air trying to find some sort of friction.
My own cock is throbbing in my jeans. I reach a hand down and palm at it slowly. My other hand slides up to my own throat and I rub and squeeze there as I tilt my head back against the wall.
“Alek…what the fuck are you doing?” Tommy asks. His voice is full of frustration and I hear the bed creak as he tries to move but the restraints on his arms keep him from moving very far.
I don’t say anything. Forcing him to lay there all alone, needy…desperate. Hot.
My breath quickens and I unbutton my pants. There’s a soft zzzp as I undo my zipper and I wonder if he hears it. With a little shifting of fabric, my length is free from it’s confines and I wrap my hand around my aching shaft.
“Alek…come back,” Tommy’s voice is growing more breathless.
