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It's exciting, I realize. When my hand scratches at bare skin and cold flesh my heart races.
My head is dizzy when my eyes flicker back and forth between his open, pale lips to his inaudible breaths. The pleasure makes me dizzy.
“Does it feel good?” I question him, thumb lingering against his healed scars. Ones that paint his stomach and arms. He could only sigh lightly.
He's weak.
That only makes me more excited. I lean down to press a wobbly kiss against his cheek, grinning ear to ear.
When I lean back, it's true that it's forbidden, what I do. His hair cascades around him like a halo, and it paints him in a dramatic light.
I scoff— And my hand reaches over to the bloody knife above his head. He shakes his head, a low whine grumbling in his chest but all that comes out is a coughing sputter of blood.
I press the tip of the knife against his open wound, and it squelches upon contact. My free hand trails to wrap around his neck, letting it all settle in.
I raise my hips to line it against his softening cock. “You like this, don't you?” I giggle, and my hold on the knife tightens. He doesn't answer me.
Pitiful.
“Answer me!” I yell, pressing the tip of the weapon further into his bleeding wound. He could only attempt to gasp for air. He sinks into me, and I moan.
It's addicting, the sensation is all too addicting. I spare a glance at him, and his eyes seem heavy. He's dying, and there's nothing he can do about it.
I sink the blade into his wound and his body shakes with a pathetic yell, his breath halts and his heartbeat slows.
I laugh, and I laugh. A breathy one, one that soon enough has me hunching over with it. Like a maniac I shriek with laughter until I'm breathless.
Only when my ribs squeeze at my lungs do I dissolve into mewls. I twist and turn the knife, and my head fogs at the sound of the blood.
I need more. I press the knife deeper and it splatters against my lips, nose and cheeks. I do it for as long as I could manage, until I was drenched in blood.
His, blood.
I shudder at the thought of that. When I move from my position of straddling his hips, could then I toss the knife away.
Before kicking at his legs, and move to somewhere in the room to fetch a cigarette.
Boring.
He didn't even last long.