Kinktober2023 Day 11: Blood Kink
Fountain of Life
for Kinktober2023 by Annika Sage Ellis
contains: masturbation, fingering, finger sucking, masochism, cis/trans, angel/demon
dysphoria warning: Pride is a trans man whose genitals are described with the following terms: folds, clit. Please use discretion if these words will trigger any dysphoria.
Justice expertly julienned another carrot, metal of the blade flashing in his hand. He scraped the thinly sliced vegetables into a bowl, grabbed another whole carrot, and sliced it in half to begin again. Watching him from across the counter, close enough to reach out and touch, Pride sighed wistfully.
Even though he was banned from making meals for both of them, he made the effort to hover around while Justice cooked. Whether that meant gathering ingredients, giving unwanted advice, or simply standing around so Justice would have to acknowledge him at some point, Pride was there. He’d be eating half this dish, after all, so frankly he should be allowed to give some input!
Opposed to throwing together whatever happened to be in the fridge and hoping it was edible, Justice followed recipes to the letter. He kept the cookbook open on the counter even if he’d made the dish a hundred times, moving with practiced efficiency. Most of the time, Pride was distracted watching him work—especially when he got out the knives.
He couldn’t help himself, really. Justice was able to cut things quickly into evenly shaped chunks, and he made it look easy. Vegetable chopping prowess wasn’t the reason Pride had to stop and stare, though. Justice had a control, rarely utilized, that made him want to claw the walls. The way he gripped the handle, the confidence of putting his hand so close to the knife, how he slid his fingers down the flat of the blade to nudge any extras off. Pride swallowed hard.
“Are you going to help,” Justice asked, “or stand there?”
“Stand here,” he replied.
Justice glanced up from his carrots to eye him disapprovingly. Pride smiled back. Nothing would change his mind: watching Justice handle a knife was the most important thing he could be doing in the world.
“How many of these do you need?” Pride asked.
“This is the last one,” Justice said, “but then I have to dice the tomatoes.”
“Cool…”
He slid the first julienned half of the carrot into the bowl and grabbed the second. “You’re entertained by the strangest things.”
“Sure, ‘entertained.’”
“What would you call it, then?”
Pride tapped his cheek, pretending to think. “I guess I’d call it being ‘deeply aroused’ by—”
“Argh!”
The knife fell with a clatter onto the cutting board. Justice jumped back, clutching his fingers. Golden ichor stained the blade, along with the few slices of carrot he’d managed to chop.
“What happened?” Pride asked.
“Cut myself.” Justice rushed to the sink. “Can you get rid of those, please?”
“Sure, yeah.”
Pride reached across the counter and scooped up the sullied carrots. The ichor glimmered with power, radiating beauty. This was an angel’s blood—Justice’s blood. The inside of him was as bright as the outside, so pure his veins ran gold. Pride couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.
The ichor slid down the sides of thinly sliced carrots, threatening to drip onto the counter. Not thinking at all, he stuck them in his mouth.
It burned. As if he’d taken a bite of the sun itself, his mouth burned, rejecting the holy substance between his teeth. Down to his fundamental essence, his body revolted against it, setting every nerve on fire in an effort to get him to stop.
Pride didn’t stop. Through the pain, he admired the taste of the ichor—the taste of Justice. Somehow, it tasted like comfort. It was a warm hug. It was peace, one of the building-blocks of eternal rest. Heaven. It seared his tongue and gave him hope. Pride didn’t know what to do other than suck on them a little to—
“What are you doing?”
Pride jerked up. Completely baffled, Justice gawked from the sink. He clutched a paper towel around his sliced fingers, gold bleeding through the thin material.
“Getting rid of ‘em,” Pride answered, muffled by the carrots still in his mouth,
“I meant throw them in the trash,” Justice said. “Not eat them.”
“Too late now.”
Pride chomped down on the reject carrots, and Justice cringed the whole time. The ichor burned all the way down, fire racing down his throat. He shivered.
“Are you… okay?” Justice asked.
“You’re one who’s bleeding.”
“And I felt your pain. That’s technically a holy substance, Pride, do you need—”
“I’m fine.” It wasn’t a lie, he felt more than fine. “It’s okay, I—I liked it.”
Too shocked to reply, Justice sputtered at him, but he wasn’t paying attention. Pride circled the counter, came up to him, and took his hands.
“Can I,” he asked, “see it, for a minute?”
“See this?” Justice confirmed, raising his injured hand.
Pride nodded, swallowing thickly. He must have looked as desperate as he felt, because Justice unwrapped his hand and held it out for him. Two cuts, one on his index and middle finger, gushed shimmering gold ichor. It smeared over his skin, fingers slightly curled. He almost whined.
“Pride?” Justice asked, voice softening.
“Don’t—Don’t fuckin’ judge me for this,” Pride breathed. He picked up the hand and pointed the fingers towards his mouth. “C-can I…?”
It was clear in his eyes that he didn’t understand why, but Justice nodded. Pathetically grateful, Pride slid his fingers onto his tongue.
The ichor burned, but this time he moaned. It scorched his gums and made his teeth rattle, but the gentle aftertaste made all the pain worth it. Pride lapped up more, aching for the fiery calm. Dizzy from pain and pleasure alike, he shoved a hand down his pants, pushing past his wet folds to rub his clit.
“O-oh, okay,” Justice said, standing there with a dirty paper towel and an addled expression.
“Msorry,” Pride mumbled, between his whimpers. He didn’t know why he apologized. The comforting flavor of the ichor made him weak.
“No, no, if this is what you need, I’ll—I guess I’m already helping.”
Pride laughed around his hand, and moaned when Justice stroked his tongue. He sucked more ichor out of the tiny wounds, and Justice let him, the cause of both his aches. Already, his mouth felt raw, burned over and over. He didn’t stop, didn’t even think about stopping, sucking and licking and rubbing himself in frantic circles.
As much as he loved it, Pride hated it too. If the ichor had been painful and nothing else, he might have been able to salvage some dignity, but the softness was what brought him back. The tenderness wrapped around his chest and squeezed him tight, until he wanted to explode. Such a holy thing wasn’t meant for him, and he knew it. That was why he couldn’t get enough.
Justice stroked the inside of his mouth, bleeding all over it, and he nearly sobbed. The ichor coated his tongue, his teeth, his throat, setting it all on fire then kissing him with blessings he didn’t deserve. Pride bucked into his own hand, too overwhelmed to keep an even pace. His head spun with countless emotions, and then he really did sob, a single tear racing down his cheek.
“Oh, Pride, no,” Justice murmured, kissing his forehead. “I’m here, I’m right here.”
Pride keened for him, taking his fingers as far back as he could. He knew Justice was here for him, protected him, loved him, bled for him, and every mechanism of creation said he wasn’t supposed to. Pride was never meant to taste divinity again, so thoroughly barred from forgiveness that anything holy burned him alive. But Justice gave him anything and everything he could, just because he wanted it. Pride choked and whined and sucked and fucked his hand, because he knew this was the best he’d ever have. Sucking the blood out of an angel was as close to Heaven as he’d ever get again.
Seeing his dissolved state, Justice reached down to help in a second way. He joined Pride’s hand against his clit, rubbing him firmly. He moaned so loud, so needy, not even the fingers in his mouth could muffle it. The burn of the ichor faded in the face of it, replaced by a hot bliss. Pride jerked his hips against them both, racing closer to his finish every second. All he could taste was fire, all he could do was want it, all he could see was Justice, watching him with fond eyes.
“Love you,” Pride mumbled through his hand.
“I love you too,” Justice said. He still didn’t know what was happening, Pride could tell, but that didn’t matter. Justice loved him.
His orgasm didn’t happen at once. Instead, it washed over him like a wave. Pride arched against the counter, whimpering softly, and Justice guided him through it. He stroked his clit until the very end, when Pride went limp, and dropped his mouth. Justice took his fingers back, slimy with saliva.
“Well, I’m not bleeding anymore,” he announced.
Pride managed a dizzy laugh, mouth stinging. He slouched against the counter, staring off into space, for minutes.
At some point, Justice brought him a glass of water. “Go rest,” he said. “I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”
“’Kay,” Pride mumbled.
He waddled out of the kitchen, and collapsed on the couch. Later, they ate there together, and Justice had two small bandages around his fingers.
