The Color of the Moon

by DracoNako

"Don't run with scissors," they always say. But what about knives? [Kink and aftercare.]

This is also available on my AO3 account [of the same name], and since it was so greatly received I guess I'm putting it on here, too. Enjoy!

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"Yaknow, when I first met you, I thought you were a vampire."

We're sitting on his couch, awkwardly holding hands on the cushion between us. Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers plays on the TV in front of us, but I'm not invested in it for the moment. We do this every night, Robert and I. Same show, same seating, but different dialogue. Tonight, Robert's opening statement intrigues me.

I uncross my legs and give him a forward glance. "Is that right?"

Robert rubs the back of his neck, faint pink painting his cheekbones. "I uh…" His hand smacks against his thigh and he looks away. "Maybe?"

"That's really cute."

"It's… not."

I reach across the couch and grasp Robert by the chin. My nails leave half-moon indents in his cheeks. "Yes, it is."

He must be surprised by my forwardness, because for several moments his mouth only flaps open and closed again and again. The pink in his tawny skin brightens and warms under my fingertips. For several moments, we stare at each other without blinking.

It's not until I let his chin go that I realize I've been leaning towards him. I drop my hands to my sides.

"If I was a vampire, the blowjobs would be hotter."

"Or bloodier."

I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear and wink. "Some people are into that."

"Are you?"

This gives me pause and I still. "I… Of course not!" Now it's my turn to blush. "That would… be weird."

Robert picks up his drink, eyes half-closed as he studies me over it. Bourbon – the kind with cinnamon in it – spices the air. Even with the TV on in the background, it's suddenly so quiet that all I can hear is the sound of our combined breathing and my heart in my ears.

"Are you sure you're not a vampire?" he asks.

I puff out my cheeks. "Of course I'm not!"

Robert arches an eyebrow.

"I just… Might like the idea of playing with blood and knives."

"That's cute."

I look over. "On you."

It's so quiet now that you could hear a pin drop. Robert's face is unreadable as he continues to regard me. Finally, he leans forward and sets his drink on the coffee table. Ice clinks around in the glass. My heart is beating so hard that my head is spinning with the change in bloodflow.

Robert puts his hands on his knees and stands up. "I mean, I have knives."

"You…" I blink. "What?"

"You heard me."

He extends a hand to me and I take it with a shudder. Warmth pools in the pit of my stomach. Are we…?

"People don't normally get to be the ones holding my knives, yaknow." We're walking up the stairs as he talks. Each step we take accentuates his words. "Normally, I'm the one wielding them. But." He looks back at me as we get to his door. "I'm not afraid of scars."

The heat in my stomach swells throughout the rest of me and it takes all of my strength to avoid pinning him against the door and ravishing him. My teeth dig into my lip so hard that I can taste blood. It just makes things worse.

Robert's hand rests on his doorknob and just… stays there. I run a tongue over my lips. I'm supposed to be in control of our encounters, but right now I feel like a fly in a spider web. His eyes rake me up and down.

"Well?"

My throat goes dry as it hits me. Oh. "Uh…"

Robert quirks an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

After a couple of blinks, I lift my chin up and give him a direct, icy stare. "Open the door."

His mouth twitches in a smirk but he says nothing. The doorknob jiggles, giving way to the dark and clothes-riddles room beyond. Faint moonlight falls on the bed, revealing bedsheets that for once have been made. I'm amazed.

We stand in silence for a moment before I gesture into the room. "Enter."

"Yes, Sir."

My heart jumps into my throat. I fight the urge to grab him by the throat and choke him until he sees the same stars I do.

Our feet are soundless on the floor. Robert stops just short of the bed and turns, arms outstretched in front of him.

I make another wave of my hand. "Take your jacket off."

The leather squeaks as he complies. His jacket – the one he covets so much – falls to the floor and forms a puddle of leather at our feet. That leaves his shirt and his jeans.

"Remember our safe word?" I ask, taking a step closer.

A bulge forms in his jeans as he replies. "Dover." His hands remain out in front of him, shaking.

"And you're sure about this?"

Robert doesn't even blink. "Yes."

In the space of a heartbeat, I snake out and grab his chin, forcing a short-lived grunt from the back of his throat. "Yes, what?"

"Sir. Yes, Sir."

Though he tries to keep his expression even, his shuddering breath gives his excitement away. I press my nails into his skin, just hard enough to turn his breathing even more ragged, and run my thumb over his lips. Like instinct, his mouth cracks open, just a bit.

"Would you like to suck on me, my pet?"

Robert swallows hard. "Yes, Sir."

I touch my thumb to his lips, harder, and slide past them to his teeth. It's just an experimental probe, enough to give him a taste of me but nothing further. The bulge in his jeans grows.

"S-Sir…" he says around my thumb.

"Yes, my pet?"

"May… I taste you?"

I pull my hand away and he whines in response. His hands remain in front of him, hovering oddly in the space between us. He's learning quick.

"Your shirt."

Robert shakes his head, dazed, before he reaches for the back of his shirt and yanks it over his head. Each movement takes an eternity, but I'm patient. At last, his shirt's on the floor, too, right on top of his jacket.

"Good boy."

His hands return to their awkward, floating position in the space between us. Robert's breathing is so loud it seems to echo around the room.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"May I take off my jeans?"

I pinch my chin and study him. His tan skin seems golden in the light, like something bestowed by gods. "Not yet," I reply.

His thighs press together. "It hurts…"

"I know." With that, I sweep past him for his nightstand. My hand curls around his shoulder as I pass. "Soon, pet."

With Robert standing there, I crack open a drawer and scan the darkness inside for any hint of a knife but can find nothing. I run a hand through the inside. Instead, all I find is a box of condoms. I toss those to the bed, for later.

"Darling," I say in a voice like honey, "where are your knives?"

"There's…" Robert swallows again. "One in my jacket."

The drawer slides shut with a whisper of air. I come back to his side, dropping to my knees to go through his jacket pockets. After a moment, I find what I'm looking for. The knife opens and clicks into place, allowing me to review the full length of its curved smile.

"It's a nice knife," I say with a smile. "I approve."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You're being a very good boy so far, Robert."

"Thank you, Sir."

I turn the knife back and forth in front of me. "Do you think you deserve a reward?"

"Do you, Sir?"

I make a noise in the back of my throat and move for the front of Robert's jeans. My gaze locks on his.

"What would you like me to do, Pet?"

Robert's breath catches. "A-anything you want, S-sir."

I close the knife and set it by my knee before grasping at the waistband of Robert's jeans and slipping my fingers down the front. Not deep enough to touch the textured head of his cock, but he shudders nonetheless.

The touch lasts only a moment before I pull out again. Robert whines again, a low noise in his throat.

"I bet it aches pretty badly, hmm?" I ask, dragging a nail down the front of his jeans. The rugged stitches press into my skin.

"Y-yes, Sir." His hips twitch, betraying him.

"I bet you're just dying to be touched, hmm?"

Robert hisses and presses his thighs together. "Yes, Sir."

I pat his thighs, my reminder to keep them spread, and he complies. He stares down at me, gaze liquid fire that spreads a great want through my body.

"I bet you want me to touch you, hmm?" I say, continuing my gentle movements on his clothed crotch.

"God yes, Sir."

"Can you say please for me, Pet?"

"Please, Sir?"

With a quickness I can't restrain, I move for the zipper and pull it down. We don't break eye contact as I move from touching the front of his jeans to the front of his boxers through the window I've created. His eyes screw shut and he whines.

"Damien!"

I snatch my hand away and at once he realizes his mistake.

"I-I mean… Sir… Please don't stop, Sir."

Before I do, I smooth out the front of my pants and regard him with a smile, taking in the gentle flush of his cheeks and his heaving chest. Only when I'm pleased with the sight do I resume my ministrations.

Robert's hips buck every so often as I tease his hard-on. His breathing gets shallow, shallow, shallow, until I'm sure he could pass out at my hand. Without warning, I stop, leaving him humping the air.

Robert looks down. "Sir?"

I pick up the knife and rise to my feet in a fluid motion before planting my free hand against his chest. With a small push, he takes a step back, then another, until his knees are flush with the edge of the mattress.

"Sit."

He does so without a word and moonlight spills across his naked back. God, how I long to make him scream.

"Lie back."

Robert sets his arms at his sides and leans back until his spine meets the mattress. Moonlight turns his flushed face an even paler shade.

"Thighs spread."

His thighs make a gap between them wide enough for me to stand comfortably in. At this angle, I can see just how strained his cock is inside his boxers.

"I'm going to take your jeans off," I say, setting the knife down beside him, "and you're not going to move unless I say so. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

The button pops free without too much effort, splitting to give way to his boxers. I tap my fingers against his lower back, the single for him to raise his hips, and he does so with a gasp. With a slowness that I'm sure is driving him mad, I ease his jeans down to his thighs. Then I signal for him to lower his hips once more. Once he does, I yank his jeans down to his ankles and study his body. Only a pair of underwear stands between me and his naked flesh.

"The jeans can come off later," I announce before crawling onto the mattress, straddling him. My hair falls down like a curtain around us. Robert bites his lip so hard I'm surprised it's not bleeding.

I lower myself until our mouths are almost touching. "Would you like me to kiss you?" I ask.

"Yes, Sir."

My lips ghost over his and our mouths open simultaneously. Our breaths mingle together, coffee and cinnamon bourbon spicing the air and raising the hair along my arms. Heat fills every inch of my body, combined with a longing so fierce it's amazing I've kept my composure for so long. The kiss deepens when I press my tongue to his lips and he opens for me. Good boy.

When we pull away, we're both gasping. The wait's killing Robert – he presses his crotch to mine and rubs with a mewl that tugs at my heart strings.

"Would you like me to please you, Pet?"

"Please, Sir!" Robert replies with a croak.

I reach down between us and cup the front of his boxers, eliciting a sound I don't think I've ever heard before from him. His fingers twitch at his sides. The magnetic pull between us is so fierce I don't think I could pull away if I tried.

Instead, I grab the knife and flip it open with my thumb.

"Are you sure about this, darling?"

Robert nods, too busy grinding into my palm to give me a proper reply, and I make a mental map on his skin of the best places to cut. Thumb against the side of the blade, I draw it across his shoulder, on its side. The sudden chill draws out a sharp moan from his lips, like the first notes of a symphony.

I do it again, this time with the blade. Robert hisses, still grinding into my palm, as a thin line of blood beads up on his skin.

Again, lower on his arm. Robert gasps, breath fogging the air, and moans. The sound is low and guttural. He's an animal in human skin, but he obeys my every command like a common dog.

When his hips jerk faster, I pull my hand away and make a quick slash on his arm, lower than the other two. Blood wells from the cuts, dark red against his tan skin, and I smear it with my palm. Though it's not much, it's enough to paint my hand with.

My palm touches his chest, leaving a partial bloody handprint in its wake. Robert throws his head back and grunts.

"It appears I've marked you, pet."

"Indeed, Si—"

His words are cut off when I draw the knife across his palm. Though I don't go deep, blood still beads up, much faster than it did on his arms. I take him by the fingers and bring his hand to my mouth, eyes trained on his face as I give it a gentle lick. His jaw locks and his eyes squeeze shut, but he doesn't say our safe word.

"You're taking this rather well," I say. "Such a good pet." With a sigh, I draw a finger into my mouth and suck on it.

"I have something else you could suck instead," Robert replies with a chuckle. His eyes widen as I arch an eyebrow. "I mean… Sir."

Our eyes never break contact as I trace a hand around the edge of his hard-on. My tongue wraps around his finger tip. I guide it to the back of my throat and though it constricts my breathing, I don't let up for several moments. When his fingers leave my mouth, it's with a slimy pop.

Blood coats my tongue. The combined iron and salt makes me salivate as I regard his form. My underwear is soaked through by now.

No matter. I press the blade to his hip and make a shallow incision, right above the hem of his boxers. Robert groans again, but the noise turns to a strangled moan when I lean down and suck at the wound.

"Damien!"

I pull up and quirk an eyebrow. Robert's panting, tongue half-out of his mouth. He catches my gaze and blushes.

"I mean… Sir…"

Patting the outside of his thighs, I move towards the hem of his boxers. "You'll learn."

The salty smell of him fills my nose as I run my tongue over the front of his underwear. Robert gives a full-body shudder beneath me. When he moves to tangle his hands in my hair, I rear up and pin his wrists to the mattress.

"You're forgetting yourself, Pet," I say with an edge to my voice. After a moment, I reach for the knife again. "Behave."

He doesn't reply, so I draw the knife across his stomach. It's a shallow incision, more like a paper cut than the work of the knife, just below his belly button.

"Pet?"

"Yes, Sir?"

Another cut, under his ribs. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you going to behave?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you just saying that so I'll suck you off?"

Robert arches into my hand. "No, Sir."

It's all the reassurance I need. My thumbs hook into his boxers and pull them down his body, keeping a careful eye on his hands. They remain flat against the bed, even when I run a tongue up the length of his cock. A breathy exhale leaves his parted lips. He is the epitome of ecstasy, blood running down his arms and a twisted smile on his face. It's almost enough to orgasm on all by itself.

"You're gorgeous when I'm eating you," I say before swirling my tongue around him. Robert moans, head thrown back.

"T-thank you, Sir."

I stare up at him through half-lidded eyes, take him in my fingers, and wrap my lips around him. Robert's fingers grip the sheets. He tastes like salt and sweetness and, faintly, like iron, a delicious cocktail all his own. Cinnamon from our ghostly kiss still sticks to my tongue. I close my eyes and lose myself in the movements.

My eyes snap open when Robert's fingers wrap in my hair and pull. At once, I pull away from his cock and press a thumb to the head. The moan he makes is unearthly, more like a cry than a noise of pleasure.

"Hands against the mattress," I say in a low voice, stroking his cock with my thumbnail. "I won't please you if you don't listen to me, pet."

Robert's chest is heaving, his breath forming small clouds in the air. "I'm sorry… Sir…"

The knife whistles in the air and slices at his skin, on one of his thighs. His jaw locks.

"Behave, darling," I say before setting the knife back down. My lips touch down on the shallow slash I've made and I kiss it, sucking until blood coats my tongue. A sharp exhale sounds Robert's mixed pain and pleasure.

"You still doing good, darling?"

"Yes – God – yes, Sir."

"Still remember our safe word?"

"Dover." His voice is more air than anything else.

Without further ado, I wrap my lips around him again and suck until he moans so loud I'm sure the entire neighborhood can hear us. He bucks into my throat, upsetting the rhythm, but I let him as the sounds of his erratic breathing fill my ears. He's close – very close.

"God! Damien, DamienDamienDamienDami—"

I pull away as Robert's moans grow into screams. His voice dies in his throat, reduced to gasps that catch and choke him.

"Sir…" It's said in a sultry whine that makes my cock swell hearing it.

"That's not what you called me a second ago," I reply, crawling up his body until we're face to face once more. His hips stop moving and lie flat on the mattress. His face is flushed.

"I'm sorry, Sir… I got carried away…"

I smile. Tuck my hair behind my ear. Grasp the side of his face and tilt his chin up. With my coffee-tainted breath fanning across his face, I whisper, "Do you want to come, darling?"

Robert sighs into my palm. His stubble tickles my skin. "Yes, Sir."

"Are you going to beg for it?"

He's calming enough now to give me an arched-brow expression. "Are you going to make me, Sir?"

"I don't know." My nails leave deep crescents in his cheek. "Do I have to?"

"Please, Sir…" Robert bucks his hips and gives a low moan. "I want to so bad…"

When I pull my hand away, the moon-shaped slivers in his cheeks remain, turning from white to red to faint pink. I shove myself off the bed and undo my belt. After rolling it up, I set it on the pillowcase. Then I plant my hands on my hips.

"Take my pants off, pet." I glance at his bleeding palm. "If you get blood on them, you're going to be punished."

Robert sits up, wincing as his open sores get strained. His jeans and underwear pool around his ankles and he kicks them to the side. Then he drops to his knees in front of me and kisses my clothed hipbone. His hands sit flat on his knees.

"You're the devil," he groans before lunging at my pants with his teeth. After a moment of fussing – and shock on my end – the button pops free. Next comes the zipper. As he runs my pants down my body, he kisses me – between my thighs, on top of my garter belt, at my knee caps, everywhere his lips can access. Seeing him on his knees makes my stomach somersault.

"Boots." I point to them and stretch a foot out. The zipper comes off of one – again, with his teeth – and then my left foot is free. The world is unstable as I try to adjust to not wearing heels.

Then comes the other. Robert sets them both to the end of the bed, taking great care to avoid getting blood on them.

"Stockings, Sir?"

"No." I take his chin again and run a hand through his hair, which he tilts into with a faint purr. "You're doing a good job, pet," I say.

Robert looks up at me and beams. "Thank you, Sir."

His hair is silky in my hands as I grab a fistful of it and yank his hair back. His cry of surprise melts into a moan. While his mouth is still open in such a perfect O, I shove two fingers inside. His tongue and the back of his throat massage me until I pull my fingers out again, coated in his bourbon-scented saliva.

I bend over him and tug his head back farther. With my coffee-coated breath fanning over his face, I ask again, "Do you want to come?"

A dazed expression crosses his face, all slacked jaw and half-open eyes. God, you're such a turn-on.

"Please, Sir?"

I take his hand, the one I slashed, and press it to the front of my underwear. His fingers seek my dick at once, flicking it between his thumb and forefinger. A moan bursts from my mouth before I can stop it

"What're you…" I bite my lip and fight to regain my composure. "What're you doing, pet?"

If he hears the warning in my words, he ignores it in lieu of teasing another moan out of my mouth. Heat swells in my stomach. One of his fingers prods at the heat below my dick, but at that I tug at his hair and give an erratic shake of my head.

"Not… there."

His fingers return to massaging the head of my dick and I cry out. My knees buckle, struggling to hold up the weight of my body. With every flick of his thumb, the heat inside me swells, until he withdraws his fingers and sticks them in his mouth. The sight alone draws another moan out of my mouth.

"God, you're fucking hot." I snap my fingers and let go of his hair. My desire is too much to contain. "On the bed."

Robert jumps up and lies back, hand around the base of his cock. I flip the knife opened and closed before letting it fall on top of his jacket.

"Hands on the mattress."

"Sir?"

"Hands on the mattress, pet. Unless you don't want me to devour you."

His cock twitches. "Yes, Sir."

When he's sprawled out to my satisfaction, I drop to my knees, split his thighs open further, and open my mouth to take him in.

At first he says nothing, there's just soft grunts as I devour him. My tongue brushes over the textured head of his cock.

"Dam-Sir…" His fingers clench in the bedsheets. What a delicious sight.

I wrap my hand around his dick and remove my mouth long enough to say, "Say my name." Then I resume, nails digging crevices into his thighs.

"Damien!" His hips rise, forcing his cock deeper into my throat. I hum around him, an accompaniment to the song he makes out of moaning my name. The light of the moon turns him golden as sweat breaks out on his skin. Higher and higher he goes, both in pitch and in volume. His hips are so high off the ground that I'm sure it's uncomfortable, but he doesn't stop until, with a broken cry, he comes in the back of my throat. It's bitter, but I don't stop until he rides out his high and falls back into the mattress.

The moment his cock is free of my mouth, I jump up to curl up next to him on the bed.

"God… Damien…"

I swat his bare stomach.

"Sir." He wheezes, skin a bit paler, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. "I… God… Wow."

I press myself to his side and hold him as his breathing slows and he begins to shiver. The shock of being slashed at must be getting to him at last.

"Darling?"

Robert exhales and blinks several times, wide eyes filled with an expression I can't discern.

"I… Wow," he repeats.

I sit up and plant my hand on his chest, over the bloody handprint I left on him earlier. "Are you okay?"

Bourbon spices the air. "Yeah. Just… winded." Robert lifts his arm and winces when he sees the cuts on his skin. "Where's my knife?"

"With your clothes." I jump up from the bed. "Let me take care of that."

I've been in his house enough times to know that the medicine kit is hidden behind his bathroom mirror. Though it's the size of a bulk pencil case, there's enough packages of bandaids in it – courtesy of me – to deal with our many adventures.

I waltz back into the bedroom to find Robert curled on his side in the middle of the mattress, holding his jacket to his chest.

"Are you okay?" I ask again.

"Yeah." He's trembling when he speaks. "That was… wow."

"Was it too much?"

"No."

I come to his side and drop the first-aid kit next to him. It pops open without my prodding.

"So," I say, guiding him into a sitting position. "Think vampire blow-jobs would be hot?"

"This was nothing comparable to a vampire blowjob." He must see my frown as I fish through the kit, because he quickly adds, "It was way better."

"Still think I'm a vampire?"

"I never did say that, besides admitting to it when we first met."

I arch an eyebrow but don't say anything further, instead focusing on the boxes of bandages. "So, important question: Dinosaur bandages or puppies."

"Puppies. Obviously."

"Point taken." I set the box of puppy bandages aside and open a tube of Neosporin. It's cold enough to send shivers through me as I smush it in my fingers and rub it on his cuts. While he grunts and squirms under my ministrations, he doesn't protest and he doesn't scream.

"My tough darling," I murmur as I rip open a bandage and press it to the cut on his shoulder.

When he's bandaged up, I kick the first-aid kit off the bed and take him into my arms. The soft sound of our breathing fills the air.

A warm hand brushes my thighs. I look down at Robert through my lashes. "Darling?"

His thumb brushes the head of my dick and I arch into him.

"It's my turn," he says, dark eyes ablaze as he climbs on top of me. I put my hands over my head. I already know the drill.