Summary:PwP, with the boys deciding

Summary:

PwP, with the boys deciding to have some knifeplay (or what they define it as), in the middle of Heavenly Host.
Notes:p

Don't do this at home.
Work Text:

      At first, the blade threatened to kiss his right shoulder without touching. It shone coldly against the pallor of his body, swinging from one extreme to another and slightly passing the short strands of his hair. They prickled every time it went past neck, at the same time that the bottom part of the boy’s body received a much more warm attention.

      It was beautiful how easily Sakutaro gave in to his touches, legs trembling whenever the palm of Kizami’s hand would find his crotch and twist against it.

      Not like the younger man wasn’t easy since the beginning. There was some doubt when Kizami suggested that idea, some opposition when his hands were tied back and his glasses were taken off his face, which only seemed surprised with it all.

      “It’s all too blurry.”

      “That’s alright. You’ll only need to feel it.”

      And that was all he needed to accept what could be called torture by some. By some-- The Byakudan high schooler never showed anything but a smirk when doing that, having his gray sharp hues glinting with every anticipation made by the knife he was holding so strongly into. And Morishige-- Well, there was a certain pressure, cold shivers assaulting his stomach, but the fear only increased his excitement.

      Insanity helped put him together.

      A normal person would find taking off their clothes and being bare, vulnerable at the haunted hall a bad idea, but not them. Who cared? Until now, no spirit bothered to show up and kill them, there was no human voice nearby for a good couple of hours, they were tired and hungry and had no other choice, so what did they have to lose?

      Besides a few drops of blood and a composed skin, of course.

      Pants a few inches down his thighs, cock hard up and buried in the other’s hole, hands holding down the freshman on his place-- If anything happened, Kizami could easily escape for his safety and leave the younger helplessly. But how could he now, when Morishige’s skin broke so easily at each cut, when his blood tinted the bruises in such a pretty red?

      Moving out a bit, he let the knife move downwards, painting the middle of his back.

      It hurt how tight Morishige would get after each cut, how his insides would clamp and suck him in. It only made the elder want to ram himself deeper, not caring on how loud the other would scream, or how much strength he would have to put into it. It actually was even better to have that annoying silence filled with chocked gasps and groans, with just the sound of their skin clapping against each other and the vision of the male melting - in all possible ways - underneath him, clenching his nails on the false window to not fall right there. The grasp on his skin was not that strong, yet enough to open up, increasingly clear.

      It was when the painful touch reached his sides and had its own fun with the waistline that Morishige knew he was at his limit. Mostly because of the spot that Yuuya’s thick length kept abusing at each thrust, slickly filling him with precum and making his entire being weak - but also for the aching strips all over his back, the reddish patterns drawn witness of their action.

      “Nnng, you are being such a good boy...”

      Yuuya would moan against his ear, licking it as he gave another hard thrust. God, that was too much, he felt so full and too unrelieved, used so well under the elder’s figure. One more stroke, thrust or slash and he swore he would explode.

      Or maybe none of the above.

      The knife was bought up to the height of his eyes, and even if his vision was a total blur, mess from the mixed emotions, he could clearly see only the sharp side soaking with his blood. If he tried enough, could see Kizami’s face reflection on it, even if only for a few seconds.

      “Lick it.”

      For the first time, he had to turn his face to confirm that task. He wasn't kidding. Fuck, he really wasn't kidding, and apparently wouldn't start moving his hips again if Morishige didn't obey that order.

      He had nothing to lose.

      Nodding, the boy stuck out his tongue, carefully brushing it against the blade, the bitter taste invading his mouth and throat

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Tóm tắt:PwP, với các chàng trai quyết định để có một số knifeplay (hoặc những gì họ xác định nó như), ở giữa các máy chủ trên trời.Ghi chú: pKhông làm điều này ở nhà.Văn bản tác phẩm: Ban đầu, lưỡi dao đe dọa hôn vai phải của mình mà không cần chạm vào. Nó chiếu coldly chống lại pallor cơ thể của mình, swinging từ một trong những cực đoan khác và hơi đi qua sợi ngắn của mái tóc của mình. Họ prickled mỗi khi nó đã đi qua cổ, đồng thời phần dưới cùng của cơ thể của cậu bé đã nhận được sự quan tâm ấm áp hơn nhiều. Nó được đẹp, cách thức dễ dàng Sakutaro đã cho ông chạm, chân run rẩy mỗi khi lòng bàn tay của Kizami sẽ tìm thấy đáy quần của ông và xoắn chống lại nó. Không giống như những người đàn ông trẻ tuổi đã không được dễ dàng kể từ đầu. Đã có một số nghi ngờ khi đề nghị Kizami rằng ý tưởng, một số phe đối lập khi bàn tay của ông đã được gắn trở lại và kính của ông đã được đưa ra khỏi khuôn mặt của mình, mà chỉ có vẻ ngạc nhiên với tất cả. "Đó là tất cả quá mờ." "Đó là alright. Bạn chỉ cần cảm thấy nó." Và đó là tất cả các ông cần phải chấp nhận những gì có thể được gọi là tra tấn bởi một số. Bởi một số--The Byakudan đứa học ba à không bao giờ cho thấy cứ nhếch mép khi làm điều đó, có màu xám của mình sắc nét màu sắc từ với mọi dự đoán được thực hiện bởi Dao ông nắm giữ mạnh mẽ như vậy vào. Và Morishige--Vâng, đã có một áp lực nhất định, lạnh shivers hành hung Dạ dày của mình, nhưng sự sợ hãi chỉ làm tăng sự phấn khích của mình. Insanity helped put him together. A normal person would find taking off their clothes and being bare, vulnerable at the haunted hall a bad idea, but not them. Who cared? Until now, no spirit bothered to show up and kill them, there was no human voice nearby for a good couple of hours, they were tired and hungry and had no other choice, so what did they have to lose? Besides a few drops of blood and a composed skin, of course. Pants a few inches down his thighs, cock hard up and buried in the other’s hole, hands holding down the freshman on his place-- If anything happened, Kizami could easily escape for his safety and leave the younger helplessly. But how could he now, when Morishige’s skin broke so easily at each cut, when his blood tinted the bruises in such a pretty red? Moving out a bit, he let the knife move downwards, painting the middle of his back. It hurt how tight Morishige would get after each cut, how his insides would clamp and suck him in. It only made the elder want to ram himself deeper, not caring on how loud the other would scream, or how much strength he would have to put into it. It actually was even better to have that annoying silence filled with chocked gasps and groans, with just the sound of their skin clapping against each other and the vision of the male melting - in all possible ways - underneath him, clenching his nails on the false window to not fall right there. The grasp on his skin was not that strong, yet enough to open up, increasingly clear. It was when the painful touch reached his sides and had its own fun with the waistline that Morishige knew he was at his limit. Mostly because of the spot that Yuuya’s thick length kept abusing at each thrust, slickly filling him with precum and making his entire being weak - but also for the aching strips all over his back, the reddish patterns drawn witness of their action. “Nnng, you are being such a good boy...” Yuuya would moan against his ear, licking it as he gave another hard thrust. God, that was too much, he felt so full and too unrelieved, used so well under the elder’s figure. One more stroke, thrust or slash and he swore he would explode. Or maybe none of the above. The knife was bought up to the height of his eyes, and even if his vision was a total blur, mess from the mixed emotions, he could clearly see only the sharp side soaking with his blood. If he tried enough, could see Kizami’s face reflection on it, even if only for a few seconds. “Lick it.” For the first time, he had to turn his face to confirm that task. He wasn't kidding. Fuck, he really wasn't kidding, and apparently wouldn't start moving his hips again if Morishige didn't obey that order. He had nothing to lose. Nodding, the boy stuck out his tongue, carefully brushing it against the blade, the bitter taste invading his mouth and throat