Teach Me to Tango
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
615
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
615
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Waltz of Blood
Waltz of Blood
There's always more punishment where the first drops came from. The sweet hiss of a rzorblade as it slithers along skin is intoxicating.
Watching the metal square slide along your skin is fascinating to you, pulling your eyes along, following the thin red lines that flow down your arms. The mirror only exaggerates the faint blue scroll of the veins in your hands, the tic of the muscles as they calmly control the sting, smudging the perfect bloodlines.
You can't tear your eyes away, even as you watch your hands move unwillingly to your heart, carving shallow lines in the flawless skin. You've tread the line between twisted pleasure and the sharp spark of pain many times. And you've always come out on the pain until now. The twitch in your fingers doesn't come this time, and neither does the little warning blip in your head that tells you to stop.
This time, just once, you feel the need to keep going. The feeling of intensity snowballs along the edges of your nerves, crisp and cool like an autumn evening. It's electric, humming over vast expanses of unmarred skin, making your eyes roll back in a perverted parody of pleasure, making your lips turn up in a grim expression that can't truly be called a smile.
Never thought you'd die with a smirk on your face.
Once was enough to be proven wrong.
There's always more punishment where the first drops came from. The sweet hiss of a rzorblade as it slithers along skin is intoxicating.
Watching the metal square slide along your skin is fascinating to you, pulling your eyes along, following the thin red lines that flow down your arms. The mirror only exaggerates the faint blue scroll of the veins in your hands, the tic of the muscles as they calmly control the sting, smudging the perfect bloodlines.
You can't tear your eyes away, even as you watch your hands move unwillingly to your heart, carving shallow lines in the flawless skin. You've tread the line between twisted pleasure and the sharp spark of pain many times. And you've always come out on the pain until now. The twitch in your fingers doesn't come this time, and neither does the little warning blip in your head that tells you to stop.
This time, just once, you feel the need to keep going. The feeling of intensity snowballs along the edges of your nerves, crisp and cool like an autumn evening. It's electric, humming over vast expanses of unmarred skin, making your eyes roll back in a perverted parody of pleasure, making your lips turn up in a grim expression that can't truly be called a smile.
Never thought you'd die with a smirk on your face.
Once was enough to be proven wrong.