A Love Worth Serving

for Kinktober2023 by Annika Sage Ellis

contains: referenced CNC, referenced dom/sub, kink negotiations, cis/trans, angel/demon

note: this is a direct follow-up to Day 26, so go check that one out first!

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The first thing Justice did for aftercare was put his sword away, sheathing it into invisibility at his hip. Pride put his horns and tail away, wiggling out of the loose rope bonds on his own. It gave him the freedom to drag their pre-emptive aftercare pile across the floor. In it was a huge fluffy blanket, a box of bandages, wipes, and a pair of drinks.

Pride turned around and Justice was already there, reaching for the bandages with blank-faced determination. He dug around, rattling through the various sizes. Pride scooted closer with the blanket.

“I’m okay,” he insisted.

“I cut you,” Justice answered, staring deep into the box. He didn’t look up until he found what he was looking for, and even then, he didn’t meet Pride’s eye. He licked his thumb over the small cut under his jaw, swiping away a thin layer of ichor.

“It was only a little one.” Pride tilted his head so he could get a better angle with the bandage. “Plus it was hot.”

Justice put the box down, but didn’t brighten. The imposing persona he wore in the scene evaporated as if it had never been there at all. He hunched over his crossed legs, trying to look as small as possible. Fingers played with the hem of his dress, like a kid waiting to be scolded.

Pride threw the blanket over both their heads. It baffled Justice so much he forgot to be upset, and Pride took advantage of his confusion. He cupped his cheeks in both hands, holding his head steady.

“I’m fine,” he promised. “I had fun. I asked you to do it, and you were awesome.”

Justice smiled a little, but it faded when his eyes welled up. Big, round tears streaked down his face before Pride could try to stop them, sliding down his fingers and dripping off the heels of his palms. Pride tried to swipe them away to no avail. Justice wrenched his face up, biting his lip hard, but a tiny sob squeaked out despite it.

Pride crushed him in a hug, scooting all the way into his lap to comfort as much of him as possible. Weakly, Justice folded his arms around his middle, hands clenched into shaky fists. He muffled his cries into the curve of his shoulder, hot tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Pride slid the blanket off their heads and around their shoulders, adding extra comfort to the hug, but Justice didn’t seem to notice the change. He buried his face in Pride’s neck, hiding himself from the world.

Ending the scene like he did had been a little jarring—it wasn’t unexpected, Justice felt every emotion to the maximum level—but now Pride was concerned. Sure, it had been more intense than usual, but they planned everything out and agreed to it.

Except the part where Pride got cut.

Suddenly, he was hyperaware of the bandage adhesive. The pain was so inconsequential, both during and after the high of the scene, he didn’t bother to count it as a wound, but Justice clearly felt otherwise. And as Pride cradled him, hugged him as tight as he could to prove he was okay, a wriggling worm of guilt snuck into his mind. After all, Pride was the one who suggested knife play in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” Justice sniffed, out of nowhere.

“What?” Pride blurted. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything.”

“What the fuck? No.” Pride grabbed his face, staring sternly into his puffy eyes. “You didn’t ruin a damn thing, J. Cut that shit out.”

He laughed wetly, a few stray tears leaking from his eyes. Pride slapped around until he found the wipes and used a couple to clean his face. It wasn’t what they were for, but he didn’t want to stand up to find the tissues. Getting the rest over with, Pride cleaned up the mess on his own face, and then on their bodies. Justice patiently waited for him to be done, eyes closed and sniffling. No tears replaced the tracks Pride had wiped away, so he let himself relax.

“Drink?” he offered. He handed Justice his aftercare-drink-of-choice, a bottle of lemonade. Justice took it gratefully, twisting it open to sip. Pride opened his own, cracking the tab on an energy drink. For a while, they sat in silence, wrapped in the blanket and each other.

The occasional sniff from Justice reminded Pride he couldn’t resign himself to sleep yet. As hot as their scene was to him, there was clearly more underneath it than they anticipated going in. They expected a bit of a bump as Justice got used to being in the dominant role, but not “bursting into tears as soon as the scene ends” intense. Pride tapped a nail against the aluminum can in his fist, trying to find a good place to start.

“So,” he began. “That was a lot, huh?”

“It was,” Justice agreed.

“In a good way, or…?”

Hesitant, he sighed. “I don’t like hurting you.”

“This was an accident though.”

“I know, but...” Justice paused to drink, and Pride wrapped the blanket closer around them. “It wasn’t on purpose, but I still hurt you. And I don’t want to be someone who hurts people.”

“You aren’t.” Pride sat up to look him in the eye. “All that was fake, it doesn’t count.”

“This counts.” Justice brushed past the bandage, the paper cut’s worth of damage he caused. He swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I liked it?”

His lips twitched into a little smile, but he shook his head. “Not really.”

Pride put his head down on his shoulder, biting the inside of his cheek. “Was it just the ‘cutting me by accident’ part that was a lot?”

“It was… all of it? I threatened you and I could have hurt you at any time, because of the sword. And then actually hurting you made it all… worse.”

“You could have used the signal.”

“I know.” He sniffed, palming at his eyes. “Maybe I should have. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Pride kissed his cheek softly, privately suspecting the reason. Justice wanted to make everyone around him happy, to his own detriment sometimes. If he knew Pride loved and wanted him to play the scene out to the end, he would do it. Even if he didn’t want to.

“I want you to tell me if it sucks,” Pride told him. “If you hate it, I’m not having a good time.”

“I didn’t hate it,” he insisted, voice thick. “It was—It would have been okay if I didn’t use my sword, I think.”

The wriggling guilt dove into Pride’s chest. He knew it was up to Justice to use their signal if he wanted to end a scene, but that didn’t stop him from feeling slimy and gross for suggesting something that would make him want to use it.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, staring into his drink, “if I made you do too much for me.”

“You didn’t make me.” Justice wrapped his arms around him, resting his cheek on his head. “I pushed myself too far when I shouldn’t have.”

Pride swallowed hard and tried to believe it. Still, it felt stupid in hindsight to suggest knife play. He knew Justice wasn’t into pain, giving or receiving. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t get hurt, even negotiating intentional harm out of the picture, and Pride knew that. But he assumed it wouldn’t matter if something like this happened because he liked it.

“Maybe this kink isn’t for us,” he said.

“Maybe not,” Justice agreed. He squeezed Pride a little. “I’m not upset about trying it, though.”

Pride nodded into his neck. Even if he couldn’t do knife play with Justice, he could still do it by himself. He had plenty of his own blades. Once the emotional dust cleared, this scene would be great jerk-off material, too.

“I liked our characters,” Justice said, out of nowhere.

“You did?” Pride asked.

“I wouldn’t mind playing them again if you wanted to.”

That idea intrigued him as much as masturbating with a knife. “What did you like about them?”

“Well…” Justice smiled into his hair, and Pride could almost see the bashful look on his face. “I liked that I got to deceive Heaven to have you, but still be an angel. It’s like the opposite of our corruption scenes.”

“I guess it is, I didn’t think about it like that.”

“And I got to be sinful with no repercussions.”

Pride snickered—he saw that coming a mile away. “I liked it too, for the usual reasons.”

“You’re tempting enough to make an angel sin?”

“Exactly. And I liked getting to talk back.”

“You do that all the time.”

“Yeah, but when you punish me for it, that means I’m breaking a rule. It’s way sexier.”

Justice scoffed, but hugged him closer. Pride nuzzled into the curve of his neck, forgotten energy drink tipping in his relaxed hand. Playing these characters again did sound fun, but if they were nixing the knife play, Pride had some edits to make.

“If we do these roles again,” he said, “can I have more praise next time?”

“Sure, that’s easy.” Justice hummed, turning to murmur in his ear. “Maybe I can train you to be good for me.”

The suggestion alone made Pride shudder and curl his toes. Justice kissed the side of his neck lovingly, and he could feel his lips pull into a smile. A warm, content fuzz bloomed in his chest.

The scene they did tonight was imperfect, sure, but there was so much to love about it. There was so much to love about doing any scene with Justice, the one who knew his body better than anyone—and vice versa. They would tinker with it until it satisfied both of them, and be doubly secure in knowing it was done together.

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Tips are appreciated!