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sickle_stories"She’ll carelessly cut you and laugh while you’re bleeding.", from “She’s always a woman to me”
“It’s been such a long time since I had a new toy,” she whispered. The knife’s blade waved lazily over his skin. Abruptly, she kissed him, pressing her lips to his. Distracted by the turn of events, he barely registered the cold pressure on his chest.
She bit his lower lip, not tenderly or coquettishly, but slowly, sinking her teeth deeper and deeper into him, testing and finally tasting. Smiling, she withdrew and rubbed his chin, smearing the blood that trickled down. With her other hand she brought the blade to her gave and licked it.
He thought he saw blood on the blade and moved to look down at his chest, but her hand on his chin stopped the movement. She pressed her bloodied thumb past his swelling lip and he tasted his blood just as it disappeared from the blade into her own mouth.
~~
He would whistle, in the dark, out of boredom and misery, trying to remember songs from what felt like millennia ago, in a dreamland. She took to calling him ‘her little canary’.
For a while, however, he couldn’t whistle. Not until his lips healed again.
He’d been ‘her broken birdie then.
He still was.
~~
“Sing for me,” she whispered against his lips. “I like it when you sing.”
A smile pressed itself against her lips. Birdie wouldn’t sing.
~~
“Your mind is all I desire.” A soft whisper, a light touch. Then a slow pain.
~~
"She doesn’t cut so that you bleed, friend. Never so simple. She cuts so you bleed for her, she cuts so she may drink. But mostly, she cuts because she may. And it pleases her. If one day your blood should cease its flow, I would not be surprised to see her cut you still, just to explore this new change. Don’t think you can control her with blood. It is not necessary for her, just a whim."
“It’s been such a long time since I had a new toy,” she whispered. The knife’s blade waved lazily over his skin. Abruptly, she kissed him, pressing her lips to his. Distracted by the turn of events, he barely registered the cold pressure on his chest.
She bit his lower lip, not tenderly or coquettishly, but slowly, sinking her teeth deeper and deeper into him, testing and finally tasting. Smiling, she withdrew and rubbed his chin, smearing the blood that trickled down. With her other hand she brought the blade to her gave and licked it.
He thought he saw blood on the blade and moved to look down at his chest, but her hand on his chin stopped the movement. She pressed her bloodied thumb past his swelling lip and he tasted his blood just as it disappeared from the blade into her own mouth.
~~
He would whistle, in the dark, out of boredom and misery, trying to remember songs from what felt like millennia ago, in a dreamland. She took to calling him ‘her little canary’.
For a while, however, he couldn’t whistle. Not until his lips healed again.
He’d been ‘her broken birdie then.
He still was.
~~
“Sing for me,” she whispered against his lips. “I like it when you sing.”
A smile pressed itself against her lips. Birdie wouldn’t sing.
~~
“Your mind is all I desire.” A soft whisper, a light touch. Then a slow pain.
~~
"She doesn’t cut so that you bleed, friend. Never so simple. She cuts so you bleed for her, she cuts so she may drink. But mostly, she cuts because she may. And it pleases her. If one day your blood should cease its flow, I would not be surprised to see her cut you still, just to explore this new change. Don’t think you can control her with blood. It is not necessary for her, just a whim."
