Sam stares at the growing bead of blood on Tron’s thumb, holds himself absolutely still against the counter while Tron reaches out and smears it across his bottom lip. He smells the iron tang, feels its sticky warmth, and almost flicks his tongue out to lick it off. Instead he curls his fingers around the edge of the counter, breathes in sharp as the former program touches the side of his face with his unmarked hand and tilts his head up. Tron leans in, watches Sam as he carefully slides his tongue across his lip; the warm, reverent caress leaves Sam shaking and his heart pounding while heat pools low in his groin.
He can't look away as Tron pulls back and glances at the small gash on his right thumb. Blood keeps welling up, threatening to trail down a deep rich line on Tron's hand, but just before it slides off he moves his hand, holds his thumb mere centimeters from Sam’s mouth. He doesn’t need prompting, opens his mouth and wraps it around the thumb. Hot iron blooms on his tongue, thicker than water. He curls it around the digit, rubs against the still-soft pad and feels the whorls of his thumbprint; more blood spills in his mouth, mingling with the salt on skin, and he swallows it all down while watching the pupils in Tron’s eyes dilate.
Sam’s never seen Tron so…aroused. His face is flushed, the gray rings in his eyes shrinking by the second, lips parted and wet from where he’s been licking it. He’s trembling, breaths shallow and hitching as Sam sucks out more blood. Slowly Tron pulls his thumb out, slides the wet, sticky pad across Sam’s lips, and then shoves him against the kitchen counter, kisses him roughly. Sam hisses as the counter digs into his back, and then again as Tron nips and bites at his bottom lip. He wraps his hand around the back of Tron’s head, fingers curling reflexively as teeth worry at his lip; sharp pain shocks his nerves as Tron breaks skin and blood spills out between them. His gasps turn into moans as the former program sucks on his split lip, shivers hot-cold from the juxtaposition of pain and pleasure as Tron presses the tip of his tongue to the gash.
He knows, when Tron slides his hands down his sides and under his thighs to hoist him up on the counter, that they’re not going to make it out of the kitchen.