Examining his naked torso in the large vanity mirror which Roman used for his morning routine, Victor twisted in position as he sought out the perfect location for his latest addition. Pulling the waistband of his dark boxers down an inch, there was a patch of untouched flesh there he could use but the position was awkward and would take an irritating amount of time to heal.
Behind him, splayed out on his favourite red velvet chaise lounge with a vodka martini clutched in one hand, was Roman and he watched the whole ritual with open fascination. Over the years together he had witnessed Victors’ scarring ritual more times than he could count and yet he never grew bored of watching the scarring of his skin catch the low lighting as the man himself selected the optimal space for a new addition.
“Does it even hurt anymore?”
Roman had asked the question without thought, voicing his musings as he adjusted his silk robe across his own bare torso.
“It never did.” Victor admitted, catching Romans’ eye in the reflection of the mirror. “Even at the start.”
“Bullshit. Cutting lines into your body doesn’t hurt?” Roman took a swig of his drink. “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. It doesn’t feel like anything. If anything, it feels good. Feels right, you know?”
“No, I fucking don’t.” Protesting the point, Roman stood up and padded his feet through the plush carpeting to stand before Victor with a look of disbelief. “How can that feel good?”
“It just does,” Victor shrugged before a very wicked idea arose in his mind, “you can try it if you want.”
Roman barked with laughter.
“Me? Cut up this body?” Roman opened up his robe, putting everything on display without shame. “Do you know how much time and fucking money I have spent getting this body where it is?” He continued to chuckle as he brought his glass to his mouth again and took a long sip.
Refraining from an eye roll but taking the time appreciate the free show, Victor clarified his meaning.
“I meant on me, Roman.”
The use of the first name was a careful choice to show he wasn’t kidding.
The smile immediately faded from Romans’ face as his breath audibly hitched, and Victor could see the fingers tighten around the martini glass in his hand.
“Do you want to do it?” Victor asked again, amused by the unexpected reaction.
“Yes,” Roman agreed, regaining his composure as he carded a hand through his thick hair, “I think I do.”
Reaching across the vanity table, Roman picked up the small sterilised scalpel which Victor used religiously in his ritual. It could never be any old knife to do the trick. It had to be this scalpel. If there was a story there, Roman had yet to hear it.
But first he had to be sure.
“Are you fucking with me?”
Roman’s voice held a calm nonchalance which Victor immediately recognised the danger in. Roman was not a calm individual and his calm always preceded a storm which would rage violently if the answers he received were not to his liking.
The scalpel glinted in the low light of the room, the scalpel which has taken more lives than even Victor himself could probably count, and this single instrument had seen more pain and fear than most people could possibly comprehend.
But Victor was not afraid.
“I never fuck with you.” Victor countered and his words were sincere. He killed for Roman without a moment’s hesitation, he dedicated himself to making sure that he was not only comfortable but also safe from harm. He would never, could never, fuck Roman over.
“You can make the mark if you want to.” Looking up to meet Romans’ gaze, he continued. “It was your kill after all.”
Tilting his head as he finished his drink and placed the glass down gently next to the mirror, Romans’ murderous look had settled into something less dangerous yet somehow more intense.
“I suppose it was.” He drew out slowly, surveying Victor up and down with interested eyes.
At the attention, Victor felt himself grow hard within the confines of his leather trousers and he regretted not taking them off before starting this little game.
“So where do you want it?” Roman asked, his silk robe still fully open, exposing the matching silk boxers beneath and it wasn’t hard to see his own growing hardness through the thin material.
“Right here.” Victor indicated the small, unblemished area with the point of his finger.
Two inches above his nipple.
The closest available space to his heart.
Roman muttered something which sounded suspiciously like ‘fucking romantic’ but he quickly pushed his robe out behind him and slipped atop Victors’ lap.
At the sudden pressure on his groin, Victor let slip a growl which had Romans’ eyebrow cocking up in surprise.
“Down, boy.” His tone was teasing but Victor could tell he was pleased with the reaction as Roman continued to lean forward until their chests were pressed together so he could growl back into Victors’ ear, “And don’t bleed out on my fucking rug.”
Smirking at the demand, Victor gave a feral smile.
Running the dull edge of the scalpel down Victors’ defined collarbone, Roman was determined to make a show of this achievement and he took his time to trace out a few of the older scars, some brilliant white and some faded with time.
“Here we go.” Visibly biting his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated, Roman placed the tip of the scalpel against Victors’ skin on the area which has been selected. Fighting back a smile as he saw goosebumps rise at the point of origin, he took a small breath before pushing the sharp edge of the blade into the flesh deeply enough to guarantee a scar.
Victor grunted and it was difficult to tell if it was in pain or pleasure as the knife made its first incision and Roman paused to take in the small sound as a shiver of desire trickled down his spine.
“Keep going.” Victor demanded; his calm voice unusually rough with thinly veiled lust. “Finish it.”
Pulling the knife through the pale flesh slowly, Roman was engrossed in the intimacy of the task as he watched the skin separate only for the newly created divot to be immediately filled with blood as he continued to carve along a thin line, matching those around it. As he worked, a low rumble seemed to originate from within Victors’ chest and Roman could feel the strength of the vibrations through his fingers.
The continual sting of the fresh cutting only served to heighten the arousal which Victor was trying to keep in check. Now painfully hard, every slight jostle of Roman against him was a torture far worse than the severing of his skin. He always liked a bit of pain to go with his pleasure and Roman was always more than happy to comply, but this was new.
“Finished!” Roman announced with a flourish, dropping the scalpel to the floor and leaning back slightly to admire his work. “Isn’t it perfect?”
Tilting his head down, Victors’ attention was immediately drawn from the bleeding cut on his chest to the prominent bulge of Romans’ boxers, the silk long having given up the battle to disguise anything.
In the silence, Victor realised that Roman was actually waiting for an answer.
Running a finger along the incision, Roman collected some of the blood on his finger and dragged it down Victors’ chest, the ridges of the wild scarring making an interesting sensation against his fingertips as he paused to swirl the blood around Victors’ rapidly hardening nipple.
A rough hand came to rest against the back of Romans’ neck, and he found himself pulled forward in a brutal kiss. Teeth clashed and the taste of blood quickly coated their tongues, but neither was certain who exactly it belonged to. If anyone else had handled him in such a way they would find their hand removed and rammed down their throat before they could even think about their actions.
But not Victor.
The metallic scent of Victors’ blood mixed with the natural musk of the other was intoxicating to both, spurning them on as Romans’ hands cupped around Victors’ head. His fingers grazed the short buzzcut and he refused to let up their kiss as he held him in place and ground into his lap with renewed fervour.
“Roman, you’re killing me here.” Breaking the kiss, Victor rested his hands on Romans’ hips in a surprisingly gentle grip, splaying his fingers and marvelling at how soft his skin was beneath his calloused hands.
“Bed. Now.” Roman demanded hoarsely, giving a final harsh grind into Victors’ lap to force the man into action. “Someone needs fucked and they need fucked right now.”
“That you or me?” Victor asked wryly, unable to move until Roman removed himself from his lap.
With a wolfish grin, Roman slid off his lap and discarded his robe on the floor as he moved around to stand behind Victor, once again making eye contact through the mirror as he leaned over to murmur in Victors’ ear.
“Watch your mouth or I’ll pick that scalpel back up and really give you something to scream over.”
At the threat, a hand made itself known on Victors’ groin and he groaned at the direct contact as he tipped his head backwards and started to nip at the warm skin of Romans’ jaw with his sharp teeth.
“You could try, boss.”