A lot of terrible things have been done in the name of religion. Michael never gave a fuck about religion. Max is the one who did the soul searching, who read every religious text he could find. Michael never did ask him if he found what he was looking for. As far as he is concerned, if there was a god, wouldn't there be something in all those texts about them? No, to him, this was as close to religion as he could get. Max's mouth, the way their bodies fit together, the pounding of their hearts; this is his religion and Max, Max is his god. There is no one in any world more deserving of worship than this man.
Max is covered in his blood, it's smeared all over his face, it's soaking into his shirt and on his hands and Michael thinks he has never loved him more than in this moment. He's begging for him to do the same, to open him up and taste him, to make sure he leaves his mark. "Max..." he sighs, reaching for him, pulling him in to lick into his mouth, tasting his own blood and come on Max's tongue. The desperation in his lover's tone tugs painfully at Michael's heart. He feels a little as if he would die if he doesn't get to possess Max the same, to claim him and take him so completely. I can't be alone in this. As if that is even an option.
"Max, you will never have to be alone in anything ever again. I won't let that happen. Consider it another one of my vows to you. This one will be sealed in blood." He reaches for Max's shirt, tugging it over his head. The wound on his shoulder protests at the movement but he barely notices. His heart skips a beat, as always, at the sight of Max's body, bare chested and blood stained. He wants the scars to be in the same spot, to match like twin flames burning just like the two of them.
He reaches for his lover, cradling his face in his crimson fingers to kiss him gently before dropping his head to Max's shoulder and sinks his teeth in. First there's the blood, it's sharp and the tate of it mixes with the taste of his own blood still on his tongue. He doesn't stop there. They both need more and the dark pleasure, the darkness inside of him, the thing that wants this, that craves possessing this man completely, that fuels his jealousy, his obsession, stirs just under the skin as he bites and tears through flesh and muscle. The pain would be sharp, he knows now; ripping tearing, his mouth leaving a throbbing gash in its wake.
When he's finished, sure that it will leave behind a scar much like his own, he pulls away, blood spilling from his parted lips, brown eyes on Max's face. There is a tiny piece of his lover on his tongue, a tiny, holy piece of flesh and he swallows just like Max did. He doesn't feel conflicted or horrified at what they've done. No one, no one will ever lay claim to Max like this.
There's blood everywhere, they're both a sticky mess and Michael wants more. It's like the beast inside of him won't be satisfied until he's devoured the other completely. Dropping down again he laps at the wound he's made, tongue dipping inside to taste, and then he's moving away, lower, leaving a bloody trail of kisses from his chest to his abdomen. Max is still raging hard, maybe even more so in spite of the pain or because of it, cock already slick with so much precome and Michael's own blood from earlier. He needs to taste. Max's blood still dripping from his lips he takes that perfect, weeping cock into his mouth all the way to the base until he's almost choking on it and then he pulls back to lap and suck at the come right from the tip.
"Fuck, Max. Max..." He pulls back with a groan, savoring the taste of Max on his tongue. "You're mine. Only mine forever."
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Date: 2023-06-06 11:33 am (UTC)Max is covered in his blood, it's smeared all over his face, it's soaking into his shirt and on his hands and Michael thinks he has never loved him more than in this moment. He's begging for him to do the same, to open him up and taste him, to make sure he leaves his mark. "Max..." he sighs, reaching for him, pulling him in to lick into his mouth, tasting his own blood and come on Max's tongue. The desperation in his lover's tone tugs painfully at Michael's heart. He feels a little as if he would die if he doesn't get to possess Max the same, to claim him and take him so completely. I can't be alone in this. As if that is even an option.
"Max, you will never have to be alone in anything ever again. I won't let that happen. Consider it another one of my vows to you. This one will be sealed in blood." He reaches for Max's shirt, tugging it over his head. The wound on his shoulder protests at the movement but he barely notices. His heart skips a beat, as always, at the sight of Max's body, bare chested and blood stained. He wants the scars to be in the same spot, to match like twin flames burning just like the two of them.
He reaches for his lover, cradling his face in his crimson fingers to kiss him gently before dropping his head to Max's shoulder and sinks his teeth in. First there's the blood, it's sharp and the tate of it mixes with the taste of his own blood still on his tongue. He doesn't stop there. They both need more and the dark pleasure, the darkness inside of him, the thing that wants this, that craves possessing this man completely, that fuels his jealousy, his obsession, stirs just under the skin as he bites and tears through flesh and muscle. The pain would be sharp, he knows now; ripping tearing, his mouth leaving a throbbing gash in its wake.
When he's finished, sure that it will leave behind a scar much like his own, he pulls away, blood spilling from his parted lips, brown eyes on Max's face. There is a tiny piece of his lover on his tongue, a tiny, holy piece of flesh and he swallows just like Max did. He doesn't feel conflicted or horrified at what they've done. No one, no one will ever lay claim to Max like this.
There's blood everywhere, they're both a sticky mess and Michael wants more. It's like the beast inside of him won't be satisfied until he's devoured the other completely. Dropping down again he laps at the wound he's made, tongue dipping inside to taste, and then he's moving away, lower, leaving a bloody trail of kisses from his chest to his abdomen. Max is still raging hard, maybe even more so in spite of the pain or because of it, cock already slick with so much precome and Michael's own blood from earlier. He needs to taste. Max's blood still dripping from his lips he takes that perfect, weeping cock into his mouth all the way to the base until he's almost choking on it and then he pulls back to lap and suck at the come right from the tip.
"Fuck, Max. Max..." He pulls back with a groan, savoring the taste of Max on his tongue. "You're mine. Only mine forever."