Yeah, but — ( beneath john's hand, a hairline tremor splinters danny's unnatural stillness, forearm to pinky. just like that, he's alive again, gracelessly dropped back into his soft human shell and choking on a hitched little wounded hiccup; a tight fuck, oh fuck.
it wasn't a bluff. or maybe it was, a little. he wanted john to do that trick again, the one from the alley, the one where he pulls his invisible knife from the black hat of his eyes and raws danny open a second time, just to make sure it was real. maybe there was no knife the first time, but there is one now. maybe danny is more magician's rabbit than wolf, as his knee twitches wider, away from the blade's hungry edge, then squeezes back in until it spills ribbons of blood from his meat. watch him disappear. watch him come back.
he nearly shovels into the artery anyway, because john doesn't want him to. the injury is too gradual, fucked into his thigh like a lazy morning indulgence, to trigger a rush of adrenaline to stopper the pain. the blade gnaws into flexing muscle, stutters and stops high on his inner thigh, closest to his flushed hard cock. danny lets john have the knife, but only to plunge his thumb into the blood-slippery opening he created. )
But. ( but, but. what was he saying? he stares at john through a shattered kaleidoscope of tears. his body learned to take a lot without flinching, but it betrays him in other ways, like this. his free hand fists into john's hair at his nape, muffling his shaking. ) I think you're the prettier fuck.
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it wasn't a bluff. or maybe it was, a little. he wanted john to do that trick again, the one from the alley, the one where he pulls his invisible knife from the black hat of his eyes and raws danny open a second time, just to make sure it was real. maybe there was no knife the first time, but there is one now. maybe danny is more magician's rabbit than wolf, as his knee twitches wider, away from the blade's hungry edge, then squeezes back in until it spills ribbons of blood from his meat. watch him disappear. watch him come back.
he nearly shovels into the artery anyway, because john doesn't want him to. the injury is too gradual, fucked into his thigh like a lazy morning indulgence, to trigger a rush of adrenaline to stopper the pain. the blade gnaws into flexing muscle, stutters and stops high on his inner thigh, closest to his flushed hard cock. danny lets john have the knife, but only to plunge his thumb into the blood-slippery opening he created. )
But. ( but, but. what was he saying? he stares at john through a shattered kaleidoscope of tears. his body learned to take a lot without flinching, but it betrays him in other ways, like this. his free hand fists into john's hair at his nape, muffling his shaking. ) I think you're the prettier fuck.