Today’s post is a list of my kinks, and a list of kinks I’d like to explore in writing. Except where noted, they are the same. (As I’ve written this, I’ve come to realize that not all of these are necessarily kinks, as much as “likes.” I’m not sure that it matters. Apologies.)
I’ve decided to re-engage in a flash fiction writing spree, and you get the benefits. As an added bonus, I decided to play a little more with Mike and Daniel (Daniel is the MC for Nurse’s Orders, and Mike is his police officer partner in the novel, but as you know, I love writing the two of them together, too.) For tonight, I have for you a m/m blood/knife play short, at 500 words. I hope you enjoy it!
Edited, because Daniel’s name was Sam in an early draft and I forgot to change them all.
Once they had started, Mike couldn’t imagine stopping. Each night that Daniel needed him, Mike pulled the long, bone-handled knife out of the bedside drawer and gave in. After a while, it wasn’t giving in, and there were nights in which Mike lay awake in bed, listening to Danny’s breathing, wondering if tonight was going to be the night. He tried to fight away the feelings of guilt, but his hard cock betrayed him as he lay there imagining what it felt like to split Dan’s skin open gently, watch rivulets of blood run down his leg or arm or back, and stroke his fingers through the warm liquid until they were both heaving and ready to fuck.
In the beginning, it was always Dan’s need that started it. Daniel would wake Mike, begging, voice broken and raw. “Please Mike,” he would say. “I need it.” Slowly, “I need it” turned to “I need you” and then “I want you.” They never spoke about this in the daylight, not once, and that was just fine with Mike. He wasn’t ready to admit the degrees of fucked-up-ness they had between them. He wasn’t ready to admit that this…this relationship meant more to him than he let on. He didn’t want to risk the chance that Daniel would recoil in disgust, tell him to get help, and insist on separate hotel rooms from here on out.
Tonight, though, Mike wanted it more than he could explain. He tossed and turned until he couldn’t take it anymore, until need threatened to close up his throat and stop him from breathing.
“Danny?” his voice rasped in the darkness. “Danny.”
Daniel, it seemed, was already awake. “Yeah, Mike?”
“I…uh…can we do it again tonight?” He reached out an arm and slid the table drawer open, hoping Daniel would understand.
A beat passed, two. “Yeah, Mike, we can do it again tonight.”
Relief flooded him, but he still felt tense, bound inside himself. He knew that the feeling would unravel and spin away once he started. He swung his legs out of bed and saw that Daniel had done the same.
“Where do you want to do it?” Daniel asked. He’d never asked before, not like this, so giving.
“We did your thigh last time. Back?”
Daniel cleared his throat in the darkness. Mike could see Daniel turn in the moonlight, tan back strong and bare. “Go ahead.”
Mike stood, took the knife in his hand, and placed the point on Daniel’s back. He hesitated just for a second, unable to believe his luck. As the blade pierced skin, tiny rivers of blood welled up and ran. Mike could feel his cock getting harder. After a few cuts, he felt like he could breathe again, and Daniel’s breath was coming long and slow. He put the knife back in its drawer, leaned down, and kissed Dan’s neck gently. Daniel reached up and pulled Mike closer.
“Yeah, Mike,” Daniel whispered again.
Tomorrow is release day and I’m beside myself with excitement. As a gift to you, I present Daniel and Mike in a flash fiction knife play story.
“Mike?” Daniel’s voice was dry and cracked in the dark as he reached out across the space separating their beds. “Mike, please.”
For his part, Mike was awake instantly, mind racing, heart pounding. Nothing could wake him up like his little brother calling his name, voice jagged with pain. “Danny? What is it, man?” He reached his arm across the gap and grabbed Daniel’s arm, gripping tight. He rolled over and snapped the light on.
“Mike,” Daniel gasped again, unable to get the words out, pressing a palm to his forehead, eyes screwed shut tight.
“Hey, hey, I gotcha.” His voice was sleep roughened, and his throat felt tight with anxiety. Reluctantly, he released Daniel’s arm and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and shifting to sit next to his brother.
Daniel rolled over and pushed himself to sitting. His eyes screwed shut, he pressed his other palm to his forehead, holding tight like he thought his brain might explode if he didn’t grip it tightly enough. “I need it, Mike. I need you.”
Mike groaned. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t like to do it. It made him nervous, for so many reasons. But he knew it helped, and he’d do anything for this man. The long silver blade rested in the drawer in the table between the beds, where they always kept it these days, close at hand, just in case. It used to be the one they kept for safety, just to have a weapon close at hand, just in case. Now it was the blade that pierced Daniel’s skin on a rough night. Mike pulled it out.
“Give me your arm.”
Daniel slowly dropped an arm from his forehead, lay it forearm up on his knee. He seemed to be barely able to sit still, every few seconds letting out a small huff of exertion.
“Are you sure?” Mike hated to admit to the tremor he heard in his voice. “You sure you need it tonight? Can’t we do anything else?”
The look Daniel gave him said it all, eyes desperate, wild. “Look, if you’re not gonna —”
Mike held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it.” He lifted the knife to Daniel’s bicep and dragged it through the skin gently, almost tenderly. Trailing fingers up, he held Daniel’s elbow, turned his arm so that the tenderest part of the arm was exposed, and pressed the point into the skin.
Daniel gasped and groaned. Mike could see his shoulders slump and his body start to relax.
Blood welled up at the tip and began to flow in a trickle towards Daniel’s elbow. He pressed harder and the blood flowed faster, dragging it up and across Daniel’s bicep, cutting a thin line that split the skin and beckoned blood into the light. Mike watched the blood ooze out of his brother and set the knife on the table, unwilling to admit to the heat pooling in his stomach.