[ He gets to focus on the little things, the praise in that low voice, the pinpoint of sharp, bright sensation and the burn that follows in the tickle of the cool air. ]
Two more.
[ They're small, they'll barely bleed, and they'll heal. But for a few days he'll have a vivid reminder of this to look back on. Meanwhile Bull will have the memory of him like this, bound and gasping for air, that hazy look in his eyes and the glisten of precome on his belly.
Seconds tick by before he sets the blade's tip to his skin again. Just as slow, another line scratches into his skin, thin and red and lined perfectly with the first, connecting those lurid red marks together. ]
Breathe.
[ He's lowered his head, nose resting at his temple, the stirrings of breath a faint tickle against soft, blond hair. He could almost envy him this, the singularity of it, free of need to do anything but focus and feel.
no subject
[ He gets to focus on the little things, the praise in that low voice, the pinpoint of sharp, bright sensation and the burn that follows in the tickle of the cool air. ]
Two more.
[ They're small, they'll barely bleed, and they'll heal. But for a few days he'll have a vivid reminder of this to look back on. Meanwhile Bull will have the memory of him like this, bound and gasping for air, that hazy look in his eyes and the glisten of precome on his belly.
Seconds tick by before he sets the blade's tip to his skin again. Just as slow, another line scratches into his skin, thin and red and lined perfectly with the first, connecting those lurid red marks together. ]
Breathe.
[ He's lowered his head, nose resting at his temple, the stirrings of breath a faint tickle against soft, blond hair. He could almost envy him this, the singularity of it, free of need to do anything but focus and feel.
Not all of his scars came from battle. ]