Work Text:
Cold smooth metal slides across sweat-slicked skin, a slight drag, blunt side of the knife leaving behind a streak of chill. Dave tips his head back, eyes shut, placing himself fully under John’s control. John slithers the knife across Dave’s thigh, careful not to cut him…yet. “You like that?”
“Yeah,” Dave breathes.
John leans forward to kiss him gently, bringing the knife up, pressing it so lightly to Dave’s soft cheek for just a brief second. “Good. Lay back, baby.” Dave obeys, settling in on the bed. Fresh sheets, soft mattress, softer pillow. John had laid everything out for him in advance, hours earlier. He looks up at John with those deep brown eyes, wide and full of a wholehearted, trusting love. John straddles him, calves closed around Dave’s waist, and nabs one of Dave’s hands, rubbing their thumb over Dave’s palm. “Can I use this hand?”
“Mhm.” He’s so obviously enamoured with them.
They lift it to their face and kiss his palm before reaching for the lube sitting nearby, carefully coating Dave’s fingers with it, then positioning the hand where they want it. “Finger me,” they say, letting go of his hand. “One finger at a time.”
Dave wordlessly slips his middle finger into them and they let out a soft ooh, clenching around him for a moment. When they relax, he starts to slow-fuck them, pushing deep then gently pulling back over and over again, stroking them. They twirl the knife in their hand, watching it. Dave’s eyes are glued to it too, watching it glint in the low light. Eagerly. He knows what it’ll be used for later.
“One more,” they breathe, “one more, baby. Then we get this party started.” Dave obliges, sliding the second finger in, stretching John as much as he can. They toss their head back with a sigh, then grab his forearm, wrapping their fingers around it tightly, holding him still. “Stay there.” They rock their hips against his hand, fucking themself on it, and he watches with rapt attention, awestruck, eyes flitting between their face and the knife in their hands, the white-knuckle-grip they have on it. “Ooh, yeah… So good.” They look down at his waist, at his dick, rock-hard and waiting. “Fuck, you’re already so ready for me, baby.”
“I am,” Dave replies a little desperately. “Please, John, please…”
“Please what?” They coax, running one finger over his chin, bringing the knife so close to his skin but not touching him. For a moment he can't take his eyes from it, trembling with anticipation, but then his gaze flicks back to their face.
“Use me,” he manages, staring deeply into their eyes, and they grin almost mischievously at him. They fucking love when he says that, when he begs them to do as they like with him.
“Oh, I will, sweetheart,” they whisper, leaning forward to kiss him. With a final twist of their hips against his hand they gently pull his fingers back out. They let go of his hand and for a second he keeps it where it is before they nudge it, and he lets it fall to the mattress. Then they take hold of his cock, stroking it for a moment, smearing lube onto it before lowering themself down, slowly taking all of him in them. He shivers and writhes a little, like he’s trying to grind against them, but he stills when they slide the knife over his chest. They’re still using the blunt side but they’ve tipped it slightly, letting one edge just barely bite into his skin. His heart fucking races. He wants to beg them to cut him up but he knows they just did this so he’d hold still. They grin down at him, lifting the knife from his skin. They haven’t cut deep enough to draw blood, just a surface scrape, but still, the newly-exposed skin underneath burns so nicely. Dave feels almost dizzy and they’ve hardly started, he’s just looked forward to this so much and now that it’s here he’s so overwhelmed. “Relax, baby, relax,” John breathes, running their free hand over his chest, through his fuzzy chest-hairs. “Take it slow, yeah?”
“Mhm.” He slides his hands over their thighs and hips, feeling them, and they let him, hoping it’ll help calm and ground him. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Oh I know, baby,” they purr coyly, stroking a hand up his body, over his face and into his hair. “You look so gorgeous like this, too, y’know,” their voice drops to a whisper as they lean over, his dick still inside them, looming over him with a smile. “So fucking soft and relaxed. You’re gonna lemme do whatever I want to you, aren’t you? ’Cause you know it’ll feel good, you know I know what’s best for you…” Dave lets out a quiet high-pitched noise that almost sounds like yeah . “Yeah, you do.” John bends over to kiss him on his forehead. “So vulnerable,” and now their voice is almost inaudible, “and you know I’ll never hurt you more than you’d want…” Dave couldn’t answer that. His brain had gone fuzzy. Their tits are right in his face, almost, hair draping around his head like a curtain. “’Cause I love you,” they finish in a whisper, and then they finally use the knife for what it’s made for as they start to ride him. He groans, tipping his head back, pushing himself up off the mattress like he’s trying to be closer to them. The blade drags so softly down his skin, barely pricking him, wobbling slightly with John’s movement, pushing a little deeper at times. They lean back to have a little more stability and look down at him as he stares up at them with his mouth partway open, eyes glimmering. John thinks he looks too pretty to be real. Dave is thinking the same about them.
The icy iridescent blade slides over Dave’s skin, lightly, so barely there, a stinging sensation pulsing through Dave’s chest. Blood beads on his skin, slithering down, and Dave feels like he can hardly even remember to breathe. John still rides him, fucking themself on him, panting softly, and he can’t tear his eyes from them. The burning in his chest and the heat in his hips mix together in a blinding sort of pleasure, so intense he can’t even think straight. “You like this?” John asks.
“Yes,” Dave replies on pure reflex, “Yes, god, yes.”
“Good.” The blade drags over his shoulder, leaving behind a thin line of blood, quickly beading up on his skin, and Dave keens. “Shit, little too deep.”
“No, do that again," he gasps.
John doesn’t answer that because they aren’t going to listen to him. He always begs for more and more pain but they know better than to give in, his desires are always bigger than what he can really handle. They aren’t about to hurt him too badly. They run their thumb over the new wound on his shoulder, pressing lightly, and he gasps then moans loudly. John lifts the thumb to their face and, making direct eye contact with him, they lick it clean. His eyes are big and round, locked to their mouth, and they smile at him. They bring the knife down again, so delicately gliding it over his skin again, over his tits. His eyes roll into the back of his head, and they move a little faster, a little rougher, slamming their hips on his. He grips their body again, not guiding them, just feeling them, running his thumbs over their bones and muscles. Eyes tracking over their myriad tattoos.
“Cut me up,” Dave breathes, voice trembling, “hurts so good.”
John drags their fingers across Dave’s chest, smearing blood over him, and he looks down, watching, letting out soft whimpers. “Don’t wanna hurt you too bad,” they reply softly.
“Please,” Dave whines.
“Shhh, baby.” John slides the knife over Dave’s other shoulder and his head goes slack, rolling back on the mattress. “Trust me.”
“I do.” He’s breathing harder now, begging: “My face…”
“No, Davey, no, too obvious.”
“Please!”
“Shhh.” They cup his face with their free hand. He feels blood smear on his cheek and shivers. “Shhh, baby, you don’t have to yell,” their voice is wavering a little and he knows they’re just as turned-on and desperate as he is. “Don’t have to yell, ever.”
“Maybe I wanna,” Dave half-bluffs. He’s joking, but only a little bit… He likes being loud.
John giggles at that. “Well, then it’s just hot.” Dave laughs and John stares down at him lovingly, brushing their thumb over his cheek. “God, you have the best laugh…”
“Lucky for you, you’re so fuckin’ funny.” Dave’s hands slid up their thighs to hold them by the hips again. “Want you closer to me… cut me open.”
He watches their grip on the knife tighten again, their breathing hard, gritting their teeth. They’re so fucking into this, it’s so obvious. “Gonna fuck you so hard,” they manage, sliding their hand over his chest. “Fuck it. Sit up.”
Dave obeys immediately, doing his best to move quickly, and they pull themself off him, earning a sad whine from him before they shove him, hard, into the headboard. They lean in and kiss him aggressively, tongue in his mouth, biting his lips, pressing their body flat to his. They feel him shift, rocking his hips, trying to fuck himself on them, and they pull back, slamming one hand down to grip him by the hip. He yelps. “Did I tell you you could buck your fuckin' hips at me?”
“No,” he whimpers, eyes wide, glued to theirs.
“Then don’t.”
“Okay.”
They pause to grip his cock and line it back up with their hole. “You fuck me, and only me, no one or nothing else, exactly the way I say to, got it?”
“Yes,” he breathes, and they slide back onto him with a soft sigh. “Oh, fuck…”
John drags the blade down the middle of Dave’s chest in response, leaving a thin but visible bleeding line, and he gasps and moans. The new cut spans from between his tits to right above his belly button. They watch gooseflesh ripple across his skin and smile to themself. They know he wants more, he always wants more, it’s up to them to keep him from demanding too much. To know his limits for him. They twirl the blade in their hand and smile at him as he stares at it openly, transfixed. Its silvery clean surface is marred with Dave’s blood but in John’s opinion that just makes it even prettier. They settle into a rhythm, bouncing on his dick, pausing every now and then to rut against him, to grind their cock against his belly, whispering praise, dragging the knife gently over his skin, knowing he’s loving every minute of it. They lose track of time, lost in the sensation, the routine of it, breathing hard. He’s struggling to keep an even keel, too, gasping for breath, running his hands over their legs, looking up at them and looking down when they drag the knife over his skin and tossing his head back with a loud moan when they slide it deeper into his skin than before. They’re mindful to keep it to surface scrapes, to not cut too deep; they may leave scars but none will last too long. He likes the sting of skin abrasions more, anyway. From the sounds Dave keeps making they know they’re doing a good job.
Further confirmed when: “Can I cum? Please?” Dave struggles to say, pawing at their hips.
“No, no, just a little longer, baby,” John pants. “Just a little longer.” Dave whines and John drags the blade by its blunt side over Dave’s arm, leaving behind a streak of cold chill on Dave’s skin. Dave grips them tighter and John smiles. “You can do it, Davey, you’re so, so good at this. So good at listening.”
“Okay,” Dave whimpers.
“Good boy,” they purr, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. They twirl the knife in their hands, letting him watch it closely, pausing to run their fingers up the flat side of the blade, smoothly gliding over the slick metal. “Gonna speed up. Keep it together, m’kay?” Dave groans in response and John ignores him, doing what they said they would. “Better not cum yet. You’ll regret it…” Their eyes glimmer darkly and he lets out a weak sound, head flopping back, trying to control himself. John grins at him. “You feel so good, baby. So hard for me. Perfect fucktoy.”
“Only for you, Johnny,” Dave pants, voice wobbling, and they beam at him before leaning forward to kiss him deeply. He’s earned special treatment with that nickname, and they lift the knife to press its tip into his jawline.
They grip him by the hair, blade digging into his chin, riding him hard; the bedframe rattles, thumps loudly against the wall. They’re both moaning and panting and Dave lets out little high-pitched needy sounds when John tugs at his scalp, short ragged whines that almost sound like words, loud enough John was sure, with a little glee, that they were disrupting the neighbors. John’s hips slam into Dave’s over and over and over again, hands shaking, knife jittering over the edge of Dave’s skin, drawing little beads of blood. They let it slip, a little, pressing it into his chin, and watch his eyes roll back before shutting. Before Dave they’d never even considered doing something so… so violent to someone else but watching him completely fall apart under them, covered in smeared and streaked blood, is so fucking hot. His eyes are glossy and wet like he’s about to cry, pupils blown, unfocused—fucked out of his mind. Brows knit together with the effort of controlling himself, of trying to obey John when he's just so so close. “Cum in me,” John commands, and they feel him full-body shiver before finally letting go, his head going limp in their hand as his cum pulses into them with a sigh. They keep riding him, not quite close themself, feeling him tremble under them, overstimulated. “Wanna suck me?”
“Oh, please,” Dave pants.
“Good.” John lifts themself off him again, sitting up on their knees, and Dave scoots downward, just a little, to put his head at John’s crotch level. “You can touch me, too.” Dave doesn’t answer but takes hold of John’s cock with one hand to guide it into his mouth. John sighs and tilts their head back. It takes Dave a while to adjust, to take all of John into his mouth, slowly working his way down and making himself relax the whole time, hand supplementing where he can't get his mouth just yet. He listens so carefully to John, to the noises they make, the way they gasp and whisper soft praise and let out the most beautiful little sounds of pleasure as he works. He licks down their cock, earning himself a quiet groan, then takes the head into his mouth, hums softly and they let out a choked sound of joy. He begins to bob his head, gripping their hips to steady himself, choking quietly when the head of their dick pushes too far into the back of his throat. It hurts but it’s so fucking good and he just wants them to cum down his throat. Their skin feels firm under his hands, he adjusts his grip just to feel the slight squish of the thin layer of fat they've grown over the years beneath his fingers. He never thought they'd make it this far and every day he's so fucking grateful and it just overwhelms him, sometimes, in moments like these. John exhales shakily, drawing his attention; he looks up at them. They're looking down with their jaw slack, breathing a little rough. “Ooh, baby, fuck… God, you’re so good at this…” Impulsively John grips the back of his head and Dave hesitates before he feels the knife slide over his shoulderblade, and he shudders. John bucks their hips into his mouth with an almost-desperate little panting sound and he loosens his grip on their hips, inviting them to fuck his mouth, opening wider, relaxing. They oblige, gripping his hair tighter before starting to thrust into his throat. He chokes more. “You still like this?” He hums and they groan. If he could smile, he would, but instead he just keeps taking their cock as best he can. Letting them face-fuck him. “Good, fuck… good. Ohhh, I love you, David.” They’re so fucking close. He can feel how hard they are, like a fucking rock. “Gonna cum, baby.” Dave lightly taps John’s left hip twice and they pull out. “What?”
“In my mouth,” Dave rasps, voice rough. John grins and starts to stroke themself as he opens his mouth, looking down at the head of their dick, how red-hot and slick it is.
“So close, so close,” John pants, “Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming.” Dave opens his mouth wider, flattening his tongue, sticking it just a little out of his mouth, and closes his eyes as John moans and cums over his face. Their aim is pretty solid and most of it lands in his mouth, just a bit splattering onto his cheeks, nose, and chin. He leans forward to lick his tongue just barely over the tip before swallowing. “Shit. Good boy… Fuck, you’re so good.”
Dave licks his lips, smiling up at John, and they drop down again, sitting in his lap, on his thighs, to kiss him. He’s so soft under them, sliding his arms around them, pulling them close. They put down the knife, setting it on the sheets next to them but far enough away to not accidentally nick either of them.
“You did so well,” John purrs, running their hands over his arms. “I love you, David. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Dave croaks. “So much. So much.”
They kiss him again before pulling back and looking him over. He’s not cut up too bad, they made sure of that, but blood is smeared all over him from it. “C’mon, let’s clean you up. How’s a bath sound, beloved?”
“Mmh, sounds good.”
“Wanna take it alone, or with compan—”
He was talking before they'd even gotten half the question out of their mouth. “No. Together.”
John flashes him a little smile. “Want me to draw it up and let you rest here?”
“Mmmh… yeah.”
They kiss him one last time, then get off the bed, pausing for a moment to drape a sheet over him delicately and move the knife to the nightstand. Fortunately there’s a bathroom attached to the bedroom, so they aren’t too far from him. They leave the door cracked, turning the light on and squinting in the sudden brightness before leaning over to turn on the water. They take their time, hand under the faucet, adjusting the temperature to get it just right before putting the plug in place and letting the bath start to fill up. While that’s going they head back to the bedroom to see Dave curled up, eyes shut, and for a moment they think he’s asleep until his eyes peel back open to look at them. He lifts his arms, beckoning for them to come closer, and they oblige, clambering into bed, letting him pull them so close. They wrap around him. “You okay?”
“Mhm. Burns so good.” He nuzzles into their neck. “Love you so much.”
John kisses the crown of his head. “Good. I love you too, Dave.” They squeeze him lightly. “C’mon, your bath’ll be ready soon.”
“Bathe with me?” He pleads, and they grin.
“I’d love to.”
With that Dave sits up and gets out of bed, letting John lead him to the bathroom. They’re both a little unsteady on their feet for different reasons, and Dave sits on the closed toilet while John kneels down to check the water temperature with their arm. They adjust the faucet to run a little colder, let it pour for another few moments, then shut it off. “Okay. How’s that?”
Dave leans over and sticks his hand in, then grins. “Oh, perfect.”
He eases himself into the water, slowly, sighing softly, relaxing into it. John climbs in after, in front of him, a washcloth in their hand, which they promptly dunk in the bath before leaning forward to ever-so-gently drag it over Dave’s chest. They wipe off the cuts as delicately as they can, mindful when Dave winces slightly, dabbing at parts that start to bleed again. “You okay?” They ask softly.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He looks at them lovingly. He’s coming down off it and he can’t make himself be as sappy as he was before but John can practically read the words I adore you written all over his face, and they smile back. “C’mere, lemme wash your hair.”
“Oooh, yes.” They purr, twisting around and leaning down to let Dave take hold of their head. He douses their hair, getting it nice and wet before squirting shampoo into his hand and massaging it into their scalp. They hum softly, relaxing against him. “You’re so, so good at this…”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, rinsing the soap from their hair. He gently wrings their hair out, studying it, making sure it isn’t still sudsy. When he’s sure it isn’t, he coats it in conditioner, massaging John’s scalp again, feeling them further melt onto him. He pulls them up onto his chest. They lean back on him with a quiet sound of happiness. “So soft…” He kisses their temple and they smile. For a moment he simply holds them, enjoying the feeling of them against him, the warm water they’re in. His eyes slide shut and he relaxes, resting his head against theirs.
They stay like that for a length of time neither bothers to measure. Dave breaks their relaxation by leaning forward, reaching for the body soap, and beginning to scrub John gently, massaging them lightly. They let out a soft sigh, letting him rub them down. Their skin is so soft and warm under his hands, slick from the water and firm from muscle just underneath. He can still, if he presses hard enough, feel their ribs under his fingers, but they aren't as prominent as they used to be. He delicately traces over their tattoos with his fingers, thumb gliding over their skin, rubbing little circles and whorls on their skin. Every now and then they twitch like he’s hit a sore spot and every now and then he could feel their muscles are too stiff; he pauses to massage them out with a lighter touch. When he’s worked his way back up to their head, lightly massaging their temples, they open their eyes to gaze into his. They sit together for a moment, John's eyes studying his, a slow smile slipping across their face. They just love him so much. “Mmh’kay,” John sighs, sitting up, “Your turn, baby.”
The two shift around a little until Dave’s leaning back on John, just as John had been on him, and they’re covering him in soap, lathering him, hands moving in delicate circles over his flesh, making sure he knows, with every touch, how loved he is. They’re so careful not to tug on his injured skin, not to irritate it at all, kissing his cheeks and nuzzling his hair. At first he gazes blankly at the bathroom walls, but his eyes slide shut eventually, relaxing entirely into their arms. His expression soft, his body softer, he's so rarely serene like this and they're so glad he can be tonight. “Lie back, lemme wash your hair.”
He shimmies, folding his legs, laying his head in their lap. They cup water up with their hands to douse his hair, careful not to get it in his eyes, then gently rub shampoo into his scalp. They like playing with his hair, scrunching their fingers over his skin, working up suds. They rinse him out as best as they can, ruffling through his hair while it’s underwater, then lean down to kiss him before straightening up and putting conditioner in his hair. When they rinse that out they comb their fingers through his hair, feeling how soft and smooth it is now. They hum gently. “Good boy.” He smiles softly, looking up at them, and they lean over to kiss him again, sweetly. He shifts, sitting up more, leaning on them. The water sloshes lightly.
John holds Dave for quite a while, til the water cools and it isn’t as relaxing anymore, at which point they climb out, Dave first, then John, nabbing their towels off the rod on the wall. John rubs themself down as quickly as they can while Dave towels off a little gingerly, trying not to reopen any wounds, then sits down on the closed toilet. They’ve done this before and he knows the routine. John wraps their hair in the towel, squeezing it lightly, then bunches it up on top of their head before turning to Dave, giving him a little once-over, then nodding. They fumble in the cabinet under the sink, then pull out gauze, cotton balls, disinfectant and bandaging. They get to work on him, gently disinfecting each cut, dabbing the blood off with cotton balls, pressing gauze to the slightly-deeper cuts that take longer to quit bleeding, then smoothing bandaids over the deeper wounds that still weep slightly. It doesn’t take long to patch him up; they’ve had practice. “That feel okay?”
“Yeah.”
They smile at him in slight relief. “Lemme dry your hair.” Dave simply nods, looking sleepy, and lets John drag a brush through his hair, waving the hairdryer over it. It doesn’t take long, Dave’s hair is short and fluffy, and when it’s all dry John drags their fingers through it and Dave’s eyes shut serenely. “Not gonna bother to dry mine,” they mumble, pulling the towel off their head. Their wet curls flop down onto their shoulders so prettily and Dave knows they’re going to be so wild and fluffy and gorgeous the next morning. “C’mon, let’s get to bed, darling.”
Dave stands up, then wraps his arms around John, pulling them close. He shuts his eyes and buries his nose in their shoulder, taking a deep breath of their clean skin, and they grin, lifting their hands to hold his. “Take me with you,” Dave mumbles, and they laugh lightly before pulling him out of the bathroom, into the bedroom with them. His footfalls are heavy with sleep and they tug at him, pushing him into the bed; he flops down and shimmies to fit on the bed, then scooches to one side to let them in. They drape themself over his arm and curl up into his side, and he shifts, leaning over and wrapping his other arm around them. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” they purr, kissing his cheek. “Sleep tight, baby.”
“You too,” Dave replies, sounding half-asleep already.