Author's Note: First off, I wanna thank the two lovely guests who left a review on 'Three Words'. I wish I could reply personally! Anyways, thank you so much and I hope you like my future smutty fics just as much ;)

Secondly, a fair warning about this fic: It has cutting (consensual!), romanticised blood, and Yao drinking said blood. Read at your own discretion!

Yao exhaled shakily as he drew the knife up to Ivan's chest, the cold handle making his hand clammy. He crawled up higher on Ivan on the bed, wondering how Ivan's breaths could stay so calm when Yao's heart wouldn't stop hammering.

'Are you sure?' Yao asked.

Ivan nodded, a small smile on his lips. 'I told you I'm fine…'

'It'll hurt.'

'I've suffered worse. And at the hands of people I barely knew.'

Yao's eyes travelled down to the scar on Ivan's throat – a pale, cruel ragged line across where Ivan's own people had sliced his throat, chopped off the head of a nation so that they could start anew. Ivan had recounted to him, distantly, how his rolling head had caught the glimpse of pooling blood, of his people storming the Winter Palace and destroying what little was left of Russia's imperial pride, tearing down the age-old emblems in favour of a golden hammer and sickle. And like any other deep, knife-twisted wound, the scar had remained.

Yao leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Ivan's lips, an overflow of fondness in his chest when Ivan held him closer, smoothing his palm over the cruel line crossed out on Yao's back.

'Tell me if it's too much,' Yao whispered, waiting for Ivan's nod before pulling away. He straddled his hips and placed his hand over the slight left of Ivan's chest. 'Here?'

Ivan nodded, his body tensing and relaxing beneath Yao's weight. He took hold of the curve of Yao's calves, running his thumb over them. 'Make sure it's deeper than just a scratch. I want to really feel it.'

Yao swallowed, placing the tip of the blade to Ivan's smooth and unmarked chest. His fingers trembled – though this was, unfortunately, far from his first time using a knife on someone. He hated to think he was marring Ivan's snow-pale skin, tearing up such a precious and vulnerable part of him. But feeling the slow, longing grind of Ivan's hips against his, seeing the yearning look in those amethyst eyes; it all made Yao want to know just what might happen if he were to cut. He wanted to see Ivan come undone, to writhe in pain and pleasure beneath Yao's touch.

He carefully pressed the tip of the blade into Ivan's skin, pressure building until the first pinprick of blood bloomed out. Ivan's breath shook, his grip on Yao's legs tightening as the blade drew down in a smooth line. Ruby droplets eased out of the cut, rising and forming, making their slow trickle down Ivan's chest. Like rose petals in the snow, Yao thought, entranced as he leant down to kiss the blood away. He licked up the tiny drops, leaving a warm, lingering kiss in their place.

Ivan groaned, his hand making an encouraging smooth over the back of Yao's head. His cock was growing hard beneath Yao's weight, responding to every slight friction of the clothing separating them. 'Finish the rest of it, Yao… please…'

Yao hummed, tasting the metallic sweetness on his tongue for a moment longer before lifting his head back up. He set the blade to slice several times more, the cuts now deeper, slower. Ivan held back a small cry as crimson rose up from each new line, these careful etches into the skin that Yao took pride in.

'Last cut, Ivan,' Yao said breathily, licking up the wounds once more. 'Is that okay?'

'Y-Yes,' Ivan panted, his fingers combing through Yao's hair. His hand closed into a tight, desperate fistful of hair when Yao's hips rolled hard against him. 'Yao…'

Yao pressed a reassuring kiss on Ivan's collar bone, though his hips were also growing impatient in their spastic twitches. He leant down and made the last draw of the blade, a final stroke before setting the knife aside on the bedside table. He leant back to admire his handiwork. The left of Ivan's chest was smeared with red, a raw wound glistening above where his heart was beating, bearing the engravement of the word 'love' in Yao's tongue.

'How is it?' Ivan asked, his chest rising and falling in shallow, quickened breaths. His fringe was matted slightly against his forehead, his cheeks dusted with the flush of arousal. Yao brushed the soft, silvery blonde hair away from Ivan's eyes and leaned in.

'Beautiful. You're even more beautiful than before.'

A sweet smile graced Ivan's lips, the curve of it still felt even as their lips melded in a warm embrace. Ivan's hips rubbed up against Yao, a low whine deep in his throat. Yao hummed in pleasure, indulging in the way they twitched and melted at each other's touch. Rocking his hips back and forth in small, tortuous movements, he wanted to make the pain of Ivan's new cut fade, to make him cry out in bliss. Yao dragged the rest of their clothes off, reaching over to grab the lube and popping it open.

He slickened Ivan's hard cock, his breaths quickening at how it felt in his hand, at how he anticipated having Ivan inside him, thrusting. Just having Ivan's fingers inside him – teasing, curling in just the right way, murmuring in Yao's ear how wonderful he felt – that alone was almost enough to leave Yao aroused beyond his senses. He eased himself down onto Ivan's cock, a small moan slipping out when he felt its girth fill him up and render his legs almost limp with pleasure.

'Yao…' Ivan crooned, dragging his name in a voice dripping with longing. He dragged his hands down Yao's splayed thighs, pulling him closer. 'You're so warm and tight…'

'Aiyah…' Yao felt a flush creep up his throat and face – no matter how many times he heard Ivan say this, it still embarrassed him. And soon enough, Ivan would make a comment about that, about how much he loved seeing Yao flustered like this. To make sure it didn't get to that, Yao made a pre-emptive strike: a roll of his hips. Ivan's breath shook at the friction, his hips jerking up to match Yao's rhythmic thrusts. Yao grabbed Ivan's arms for support, his lips parting in bliss and his cock smearing pre-cum onto Ivan's abdomen.

Groaning at the building tension at the core of his being, he rested his head down to Ivan's chest and sloppily smacked his lips over the stains of blood, licking up the sweet-tasting red until he reached the wound. He ran his tongue over the tiny lines where the knife had cut, causing Ivan to hiss in pain.

'Sorry,' Yao murmured, pressing his lips elsewhere in apology. Ivan's hands ran over his back, squeezing firmly at the shoulder blades before rolling him over.

'No, do it again, please,' Ivan said, his voice husked with want. He rested his forearms on either side of Yao's head, fingers sweeping away the hair from Yao's face. 'Kiss me where it's bleeding…'

Yao ran his palm tenderly over the wound, not sure if he found the blood droplets trickling down his wrist worrying or strangely arousing. 'Why hasn't it healed yet?'

'I don't know,' Ivan said, breath tickling Yao as he placed pleading kisses on the outer shell of his ear, 'but I don't think I want it to.'

Yao's eyes almost fluttered shut, wanting to melt at this searing warmth – of Ivan's words brushing against his ear, of his cock buried deep into him, of the sticky coating of blood on his hand. He lowered his head, planting fervent kisses along the way to the shallow cuts on Ivan's chest. He flattened his tongue on it and tasted the beating, pulsing blood flowing out. Ivan moaned, taking hold of Yao and making slow, deep thrusts into him. Yao spread his legs further apart and gasped, helpless to the twitching of his hips and the curling of his toes into the bedsheets. He sucked and lapped at the wound, knowing each little sting would elicit a hissed cry from Ivan, that each little hit of pain-pleasure would make Ivan's plunge into him harder.

Yao tightened around Ivan's cock, his legs now hooked around Ivan's back and trembling with each gasp-inducing thrust. Ivan's cock barely fit, its hot friction inside Yao enough to make his own erection ache for release, to make his thoughts muddled and hazy and filled with only how much he wanted Ivan to make him come. He squeezed his eyes shut, too lost in pleasure to make his lips do anything but stay limply parted against Ivan's chest.

'I-Ivan,' Yao managed to hoarsely call out, Ivan's thrusts reaching a peak in their roughness. Yao whimpered as he came, grabbing onto Ivan as he felt the hot release of his own seed on his stomach. Ivan cried out softly, heart beating frantically in Yao's ear as his thrusts grew slower and lazier in their rhythm. Yao felt Ivan's cock pulse and twitch inside him, humming contentedly as they relaxed in their tangled hold.

There was a moment of only sighs and pants, their muscles falling limp and complacent among rustled sheets. Ivan rolled over to his side, yanking the blanket over them as they collected their breaths.

'How do I taste?' Ivan asked, using the pad of his thumb to smear the blood off Yao's lips. Yao smiled and gently caught Ivan's thumb between his teeth.

'Sweet,' Yao said, releasing Ivan's thumb and turning over to his side to face him. He felt his hand around for the wound on Ivan's chest, thinking to wipe away the bloody mess they'd made. The sticky coating of blood was still there, and the rest of the wound had closed up as expected of any living nation. But a scarred ridge still remained. Yao frowned, tracing it. 'Your cut…'

'What is it?'

'You're not letting it heal completely, are you? How are you doing that?'

'I'm not doing anything. But I'm glad it's staying. I want it to stay,' Ivan murmured, pulling Yao closer into his embrace. He combed Yao's hair back and ran his fingers through it soothingly. 'Who said our scars have to be painful memories?'

Yao's eyelids grew heavy as these words lingered, as he felt the bliss of Ivan's touch and thought on the battles that had become permanent marks on his body. He had always thought it was only ever the wounds that hurt the most that stayed, the ones that stung with betrayal or heartbreak. But now, with the tender scar on Ivan's chest, that immortal engraving he could trace his fingers over, he could take comfort in knowing there was more than only pain in their wounds. There could be love, too.