Dagger Dance

By M Lindsay, writing as Eladrial Skeksis

*

Eladrial looked up as the man entered the room, smiling slightly as he approached. The heavy door clanged shut behind him, the insistent strobes and rainbowed lights of the club winking out, leaving only a dull reddish glow. She looked him over; tall and lean, well muscled like a dancer, his hair surrounding his face in dark waves. Her tongue clicked in her mouth and she smiled wider, her long teeth gleaming. He only smiles at this and drew closer, his own long teeth creasing his bottom lip. He reaches to grasp her.

She stands and fades into a chill mist as he draws close, and the room fills with a thousand whispered voices, a susurrus of sound, a thousand bloody pleasures promised.

He glances around, young yet in his talents and unable to follow, the red glow in the room deepens and the mist settles about his shoulders, a smell of grave dirt and lilies filling the air. The cold settles about his shoulders and he shudders as a cold, manicured hand settles on his shoulder, he glances down and starts as he sees the twin bladed push dagger it holds, the Toledo steel lying icy against his chest. He shudders again as she reforms behind him, her chin resting on his other shoulder, her other arm snaking around his waist.

She draws him in tight, pressing against him, and slides the dagger up to his collar bone, watching him swallow hard as she presses the flat of it into his skin. Still smiling, she slides around his torso, moving to stand before him, tracing the dagger tip across his shoulder blades, and bringing its point to the softest part of his neck. She tilts her head so her fringe falls across her face. Twin Pools of crimson light glow behind the curtain of dark hair and she presses the dagger so it creases his skin, and then traces it down his chest, cutting the shirt aside and leaving a thin line of red.

He shivers, and grabs for the dagger-hand, but stops as she runs a finger down the line of blood. He pauses as she paints the blood across his lips and kisses his life deeply into his mouth. He feels lightheaded, and his grip on her arm eases as he draws her close. His eyes try to catch and hold hers a moment before closing. The coppery taste of his own blood fills his mouth as he kisses deeply in return, sending hot euphoria through him, his sex stirring. He draws her closer, her legs parting a little beside him as she feels him.

She slides the remains of his shirt off as she kisses him, his blood smearing down her dark dress; she rests the point of it on his cheek, and pushes him down to his knees.

She cuts the lacing to her dress, letting it slip off her shoulders to pool about her feet in a silken puddle. She steps out of it and kneels high beside him, still smiling. She kisses down his neck, the dagger tracing a paralleled bloodied line down his torso, resting in the dark thatch of hair peeking out from his breeches. She kisses and licks her way slowly down the fresh rivulet of blood, her other hand resting lightly on his hip. It grips tighter as she cuts the laces of the breeches, and pulls them down to join the dress on the floor, cutting them free as they reach his knees. Rising up again, she kisses him again, more of his blood coursing over his tongue, her eyes crimson pools of lust. She holds the dagger against his side grips it tightly and slides it into him just a little. She draws back slightly, tilting her head and smiling.

Drawing breath sharply, he looks down to the wound, his arms at the small of her back tensing, he looks up at her, a strange mix of fear and lust in his eyes. He watches the blood well around the blade, and dips his finger into it, pushing a little into the wound, alongside the steel. His lips part slightly and he moans, again watching her. As she slides the dagger free, he shakes his sex hard and hot between their close touching thighs.

She holds the dagger out for him, her hands gripping the slick blade tight enough to crease her palm and bring blood welling up. His eyes fill with hunger at the sight, and taking the dagger; he draws her palm up and sucks for a few moments. Her eyelids flutter at the rhythmic drawing off, and she swoons. He watches as her chest suffuses with color, two high points of rose lighting her cheeks as well. Seeing her tilt her head back, he lets drop the hand, and cradling her back, he lowers her to the floor, kneeling between her creamy thighs. She moans softly to him, "Cut me... it's your turn..." He holds the dagger up, the red stained blade reflecting the light. He traces it over her sex, and tickles her belly with the tip of it. Leaning down her takes her hungrily in his mouth, as he watches her.

She shudders, as all he nerves in her thighs and her sex begin to twitch, the cold of the dagger making her muscles inside clench. She parts her legs a little more, her back tensing as she watches him. She moans as he sucks hard on her button, laving her forcefully with his tongue, her back arches and she snakes a hand down to her sex, pushing to fingers inside. He continued his ministrations for what seemed like forever, as she clenched and unclenched her bloodied hand on the floor beside her, her hips rocking. He rests the dagger cold on her stomach; her muscles drawn tight form its touch, and he slowly crawls up over her body. She watches him as he turns the dagger in his hand, glancing at her over its twinned blades Her voice deepens, becoming primal, as she feels the tip of his sex brush against hers, and she stares at the dagger, her pupils dilated." do it, cut me....do with me as you will" He looks at his mistress uncertainly a moment, then lowers the dagger, sliding it into her side. She cries out gutturally, her muscles spasming inside as she comes to her first climax. Her neck arches, her hips rising to meet him, the dagger being pushed deeper by the arching of her back. She watches as he dips his fingers in the welling crimson , and paints his lips with it, leaning up to kiss her, the dagger moving slowly in and out of the wound. Her hand finds his sex, and begins stroking it in time to the rhythm, and she touches it to the warmth of her sex at the upstroke, kissing him passionately, feeling her blood draining as she becomes dizzy.

He gasps as she takes his sex in her hand, her rhythm matched perfectly to the inexorable stroking of the dagger in her side, his breathing become ragged. Beads of sweat break out across his shoulders, and he watches as the points of color brighten on her cheeks. He feels her pull him to touch her sex, and fights the urge to simply drive himself deep within, allowing her to set the pace. The muscles in his legs jerk spasmodically, the nerves bright hot with passion and he cries out as she draws him into herself, his sex alongside her fingers, still sliding in and out inside her. He drives the dagger in to its hilt and watches as her eyes widen to their fullest, her small cries and moans deepening further to a wholly bestial growling and purring. He cries out as he slows the thrusts, finding she has ringed the base of his sex with two fingers of her other hand. The twinned sensations of her stroking fingers and his driving thrusts making him clench and unclench his jaws, his eyes wide open and staring. He catches her eyes staring at him, the red glow within seeming all the brighter as he feels her climax again, her sex pulsing and squeezing.

He hears her cry out... "Deeper... harder... Ahh yes...Just like that..." as his hand at the blade matches the long strokes, the dagger ice to the fire of his sex. She bares her neck to him He leans forward and bites down hard, drinking from her feeling her pulse inside him like a hammer. Holding some in his mouth, he leans up and kisses her, the coppery taste sending him spiraling towards his own climax, and sending her off for the final time as the blood pools beneath her. She tenses her back arching as he draws the dagger out slowly, and she relaxes against the floor. Her hands meet across his back and draw him down to lay fully upon her and he rests his head on her chest, listening to the fluttery heartbeat within.

She lays breathing slowly, concentrating one closing the wound, as he kisses her chest and neck again and the sounds of the nightclub return to her as she quiets her senses, as they sink into torpor at the coming of the dawns light outside.