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The first touch of the knife sends a shiver up Eret’s spine. The metal isn’t necessarily cold, per se, but compared to the warmth of the beacon beneath him and of Foolish’s steadying hand on his bare hip, it’s considerably cooler. The point is needle-sharp as it rests against his skin, a reminder of what they’re here for as much as the hum of the beacon is. Foolish’s lips, too, are warm, as he kisses the top of his spine.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you, too,” they breathe.
The first cut doesn’t hurt, not really. It’s more of a pleasant sting as Foolish shallowly drags the point down the length of her shoulderblade. If he even breaks skin, it’s immediately healed by the beacon. Eret sighs, relaxing against the beacon’s warm glass, desire curling in her gut. The next cut is similarly gentle, the blade passing over her skin without breaking it, the sting evaporating a moment later.
“How’s that feel?” Foolish says softly, rubbing their hip. The heat of his body isn’t as close as it was when he was leaning over them, but that’s okay.
“Good.” Eret takes a deep breath, eyes closed. “More, please.”
The next cut is still shallow as Foolish drags the knife down their back, but this time, they can feel the flesh give way and split. It heals a second later, the magic of the beacon knitting it back together seamlessly; the pain is sweet, regardless. Eret groans, going tense, but relaxes again as the knife is pulled away. Another cut, another sweet line of pain, another seamless heal. Foolish does it again, again, pulling more sounds from her as he does. After six, he pauses, kissing the nape of their neck again.
“Doing so good, treasure.” Another kiss, another stroke to their hip. “You ready for more?”
“Y-Yes.” He swallows, mouth dry. “Please.”
“I’m gonna draw blood this time.” It makes Eret’s breath hitch when he says things like that, that desire flaring up once again. Makes their heart flutter, too.
“I know.”
They really feel it, this time, as Foolish presses the blade into his skin and drags, as he carves deliberate swirls into the long plane of his back. Blood wells in the cuts and stays on the surface as the skin heals back up. This time, Foolish doesn’t pause, going from one pass to the next; he draws waves and shapes with the knife, lets it catch on the bumps of their spine. Eret moans as Foolish drags his tongue up one of the cuts, licking the blood from his healing skin. A moment later, the blade is back, another pass, another cut. It hurts. It feels incredible. Foolish kisses his shoulder when he starts to shake, hushing him softly, still carving shapes into his side all the while.
“Shh, treasure,” he soothes, voice soft in her ear. He kisses the back of her neck, breath hot against her skin; it’s this, more than anything, that makes tears prick at the corners of her eyes. He digs the knife a little deeper, startling another moan out of her. When it withdraws, the wound immediately heals. The pain is no more than a memory after a moment. “You look so beautiful. You’re doing so good.”
“Love you,” Eret says -- gasps, more like, voice breaking as Foolish starts cutting another line into his back.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He licks the blood from this one, too, drawing another moan. She’s so hard that it nearly hurts. “I love you so, so much.”
He continues to praise them as he works, letting them slip further and further under. All Eret needs is for this to continue, for Foolish to tell him how wonderful he is, for the pain to be followed by immediate relief and sweet words to keep him going.
The point of the knife moves to her left shoulderblade. A short line vertical, two short lines horizontal. A circle. Another circle. When Eret realizes exactly what it is he’s writing, she starts to fully cry, going limp against the beacon as Foolish carves the rest of his name into her upper back. It won’t scar, not with the healing magic coursing through her, but she’ll know. She’ll know that his name is there. That she’s his. Foolish kisses the blood from her shoulders, tracing the already-healed marks with his tongue, and it just makes her sob more.
Eret loses track of the time, of the shapes Foolish leaves on them. Hearts, stars, waves. Words spoken quietly into their ear as they cry, praise and reassurance to match the sharp pain and tingle of magic. Lines carved into their back, a hot tongue dragging up their skin. Slumped over the beacon, they can’t remember anything outside of Foolish, Foolish, Foolish. He loves them. Gods, how they love him in return. They might be saying it between sobs and gasps, but wouldn’t really know; everything sounds a little muffled around the cotton filling their head.
The knife pulls away one final time. Something cool touches his heated back, wiping away the remaining blood as his shoulder shake with sobs. Foolish rubs his hip the entire time, words low and gentle in his ears. It all turns to static in the space between and does nothing to stop the tears, but at this point, Eret doesn’t know if he wants the tears to stop. It doesn’t really matter if they do. He’ll be taken care of, either way.
Behind her, a cork pops. Foolish leans over her, kissing her neck as two slick fingers rub over her hole and press in slowly. He works her open carefully, adding more lubricant when he needs; two fingers spread wide, making room for a third; three fingers spread wider and pushing against her prostate with every press. Eret sobs in pleasure, head bowed, body lax. In her ear, Foolish murmurs a quiet, persistent I know, I know.
His fingers withdraw. A moment later, they feel the head of his cock press at their hole, thick and hot as the rest of him. He enters them in one long, slow push, the gentle stretch unrelenting. They can’t stop crying; when Foolish gets fully seated, his body draped over theirs, his hands stroking their sides to soothe, it only makes them cry harder.
“So good,” she thinks he’s saying, “Feel so good, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart, it’s okay.” His hips draw back, and slowly, ever so slowly, push forward again.
He fucks them like that, slowly, gently, lovingly, over the beacon, keeping them covered as they shake. His murmurs of praise and admiration turn to grunts and groans of pleasure, his pace soft. When he passes their prostate again, Eret goes tight; it makes Foolish gasp and speed up just slightly, now aiming for the spot. He’s so good to them. He’s never been anything but good to them.
Foolish kisses the sweat from the back of her neck, holds her hips, fucks her like he loves her. She knows he does. When he’s holding her like this, how could she not? Heat pools in her gut, building, building. Foolish must sense it, because he takes her length in hand and strokes in time with his thrusts, reminding her that it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.
The rubber band inside him snaps; Eret sobs as he’s overwhelmed with sensation, with pleasure, orgasm wracking his body. Foolish comforts him through it as he cries, still rolling into him. That’s it, that’s it, beautiful, love you, so good, thank you, I love you. A few moments later, Foolish shudders, pressing in as far as he can, hips jerking shallowly as he cums deep inside them. Heat fills their gut, warming them from the inside out. Gods, they love him.
Slowly, they both come down from their highs. By the time Foolish pulls out, he’s gone soft; Eret’s sobs have mostly subsided, now just an occasional hitch of the chest as tears continue to fall. Despite the warmth, she’s shivering.
Gentle as he’s always been, Foolish gathers them into his arms, kneeling on the floor and holding them close. A finger brushes their chin, tilting their face up; he’s gazing at them so very fondly when they open their eyes, vision swimming with tears. He kisses them slowly, smiling against their lips, thumb brushing away tears. The ones he can’t catch with his hand he gets with his lips, next kiss landing under their eye, then one to their forehead.
“You wanna get cleaned up, now?” Foolish asks, when Eret rests his head on his shoulder. Eret nods into his neck, a whimper lodging in his throat. He’s safe. It’s okay. Foolish kisses his temple, carefully standing and taking Eret with him. “You got it. Did so good, sweetheart. So beautiful.”
“Love you,” she mumbles.
“I love you, too, treasure.” Another kiss to her temple. The vibrations of his chest feel nice as he talks.
Eret sighs in relief as Foolish lowers the both of them into a heated pool, the warm water surrounding them like a blanket.
He keeps them close then, too.