Chapter 79 #3
This was hard for her. She probably wouldn’t be able to promise never to do it again. And so the only thing left for me would be to kiss those spots where she wanted to leave scars, in the hope of making her forget, even if only for fleeting moments.
“Then I’ll stay anyway.”
I’ll stay.
Fuck, Davian. What kind of promises are you making?
I wanted to. Wanted to be there for her. Wanted her to be able to count on me.
But could I promise such things? Promises I had no power to keep?
She pressed her lips together, as if it dawned on her more than on me that sooner or later my promise would turn into a sharp-edged lie.
I swallowed.
“Where do you want to…”
God, I couldn’t even bring myself to say it.
Her fingers trailed down her right breast, and my breath caught as they slid over her nipple, yet didn’t linger there, but moved further down over the lower curve until the tip of her finger came to rest just below her breast.
So close to her heart.
“Make it long.”
My vision blurred more and more.
She didn’t want it to be quick and painless.
She wanted to play with time.
“Make sure it stays.”
It wasn’t the scar she wanted to keep.
She wanted me to stay.
She knew our paths would part. Had to.
She didn’t want to forget me.
My tears just fell.
Clutching the blade tightly, I knelt down, placed the sharp piece of metal before that spot, but paused.
I looked back into her eyes, searching for confirmation, not wanting to miss a single moment in which I might fail to notice that I was perhaps hurting her.
Yet I knew that I could never physically hurt her.
That my Blue processed physical pain differently than those who weren’t shaped by a life in survival mode.
Without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head slightly to the side and pushed her upper body toward me with her back arched, so that my attention drifted back to the blade on its own.
The moment it touched her skin, we both held our breath.
It was as if time stood still. As if this were more than just a cut, more than just a symbolic act.
I had learned how to make precise cuts, how exactly deep I needed to go to penetrate certain layers of tissue, and I knew which cuts left scars. And even though this spot here was incredibly delicate, I knew how to proceed.
Yet I was filled with reverence.
She placed her life in my hands, wanting not only for me to take her pain with pain, but also for me to leave a lasting mark of myself on her.
She wanted me to be a consequence.
Aestheticized pain.
Tangible.
Carefully, I stretched the skin at that spot with my thumb and index finger until it lay taut beneath the blade.
Adrenaline made my heart race, yet it was fascination that made me press the blade firmer against her parchment skin until I penetrated the second layer.
Quill tensed, sighing softly yet with enough intensity that my heart skipped a beat.
Her pain is mine.
I began to draw the blade steadily through her skin, which parted for me, and immediately her blood welled in the gash.
Quill’s hand slid into my hair, and I let her grip it tightly as she whimpered in pain.
Mesmerized, I continued drawing the blade, allowing Quill’s hand to slide to my shoulder, where she dug her nails in even harder until I felt them piercing through my shirt into my skin, and she whimpered once more.
Pure fascination with this woman’s body – behind whose skeleton cage my Blue lay hidden – lured me into wanting to go on, but I gathered all my reason and brought the cut to an end.
I could sense Atrinus waiting, watching, as this moment gave him everything he would need to overpower me and make use of her.
Entranced, I stared at her blood, watching it pool at the low end of the cut where I had started it, growing more and more.
Ink.
She was bleeding.
For me.
A sacrifice I would never be able to adequately thank her for.
This would leave a paper scar. A remnant of our coexistence.
A transparent pearl of water fell onto her breast, rolled down toward her nipple, causing me to instinctively look up at her, my gaze lingering for a moment on her glass eyes, saturated with emotion, before I rose slightly, braced myself with my hands on the table, leaned toward her nipple, and licked the sweet salt from its rosy tip.
She sighed, trembling beneath me, but I gave her no time, moving on toward her wound, and just before her ink-blood could escape from the end of the cut closest to her body's center, I let my tongue glide over the gaping tear and licked the ink-blood from her skin.
“Inkbird”
It had been nothing more than a shaky, whimpering whisper. But what it triggered inside me was beyond description.
Something so deep within me that I couldn't even reach for it flared up. Like a light in the darkness long believed lost, yet too far away for me to ever have a chance to follow its fleeting glow, which faded the very next moment. As if it had never been there. Forgotten. Surreal.
It stirred such intense despair within me that I licked her wound again, found my way back to her erect nipple, and clamped it between my lips.
Quill moaned far too desperately, far too unrestrainedly.
But I couldn’t stop and let my hands wander to her back, pressed her against me, trying not to touch her with the blade before I began to suck on her nipple and let my hands wander to her butt, where my fingers clawed into her flesh as I sucked her nipple so hard that her loud moans forced me to tear myself away from her.
The blade clattered onto the desk beside her.
Disturbed and yet intoxicated, I looked down at her reddened nipple, where I had clearly caused blood vessels to burst, while fresh blood gathered at the cut below, pooling at the lower end before running down her stomach unhindered.
Her chest rose and fell heavily, and fuck, it was that startled, innocent look, with eyes full of tears, that made my greedy lips land on her neck next.
“I know you read my pages,” she gasped into my ear, surrendering to more desperate kisses.
My left hand landed on her unmarked breast.
“That you touched yourself.”
My hand gripped her tit tighter as I slowly realized what she was talking about between frantic breaths.
“That you were watching me, Davian.”
So I had been right. She had been watching me. Had lured me to her. Moaning my name on purpose.
That little sly devil.
“I should have come into that room and taught you a lesson,” I whispered against her neck. “You little…”
“Hmm?” Her next words brushed against me in the form of a warm breath. “What am I to you?”
I began to knead her tit, so that the next words slipped from her lips as a desperate moan.
“What do you want me to be for you?”
My cock began to ache under all the pressure.
I was so fucking hard for her.
Atrinus was ready to burst out of me, but I fought against him.
He wasn’t allowed to…
“Your muse?”
Fuck.
“Your toy?”
I growled fiercely into her neck.
“Your whore?”
This woman…
“Tell me…”
I silenced her with my lips, pressing myself against her without regard for the consequences and bit her lower lip.
Quill’s lustful moans of pain filled the entire room.
Atrinus is already in control.
Frightened by my own actions, I tore myself away from her.
A smirk crept onto her wet lips. Lips on which I wanted to see only one liquid.
“My downfall.”
The architect’s ink heart, full of corruption.
Its arteries, the roots of his construction.
His muse is trying to keep the heart alive.
An act of devotion she won’t survive.
– Leaking Batteries Diary