He's been stabbed here before as well, but it's always an insult. A relief as well. Daemon laughs.

"Do you know how long it takes to die of a gut wound?" He speaks with blood dripping from his mouth, falling on his prey's face. "I could keep you here for hours. But I won't. A reward for your fire."

If this strange little man were a woman, Daemon would get a child on her immediately. What an strong bastard that would make. But the gods are not so kind, and so all Daemon can do is lean forward in a biting kiss. "You're mine."