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Red II

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Yixing drags the knife across the skin of Baekhyun’s face, from just above his ear, slowly slowly, to the corner of his mouth. Baekhyun can feel the bite of the blade parting his flesh but he doesn’t feel the pain. It’s meant as a mark, a brand, a claiming. Yixing’s eyes are dark with it, hungry, but he holds his body with a lifetime of control. Baekhyun stays still on his knees before him, only his laboring chest betraying him. It doesn’t matter. They’ve been coming to this for a long time now, since the first moment Baekhyun looked at Yixing, since the first time he saw his throat move on a laugh and he wanted to grasp it in his teeth.

Yixing cups a hand over the uncut side of Baekhyun’s face, uses his thumb to gently push his chin down, his mouth open wider. He traces the blade, gently, feather light, over his lips, using the flat of it to tug the plush lower lip down. Baekhyun carefully touches the blade with his tongue, watching the way Yixing’s nostrils flare, the way his throat bobs on a swallow. Baekhyun’s dick throbs, and in their nakedness it is obvious the way Yixing’s jumps in harmony.

It’s a standard pocket knife, single edge. There’s a directionality to knives, Baekhyun knows, a way of caressing the steel without losing a part of yourself in the process. He brushes his tongue from the wide side of the blade to the sharpened edge, slowly, tasting the bits of his own blood gathered there. Carefully, so carefully, he moves his head forward, tongue still gentle travelling down the steel, until he wraps his lips around the blade. It’s cold in his mouth, the metal barely tapping against his teeth. He pulls, eyes never leaving Yixing’s, careful never to let himself move any part of him toward the sharp of the knife. Yixing's chest stops moving, every inch of him exquisitely controlled, completely still. When the blade is free and clean, Baekhyun taps the tip of his tongue to the point of the knife, smearing the well of his own blood across his upper lip.

With a growl Yixing tosses the knife to the side and they crash together, all pretense of control lost. It’s brutal and animalistic, the way Yixing forces Baekhyun to the floor, sucking the blood from his tongue, the way Baekhyun bucks him and flips them so it’s Yixing with his back to the hardwood. Bright crimson drips onto Yixing’s cheek, beautiful against his skin. A drop falls on his lip, another on his bared teeth, and Baekhyun cannot help the way his chest rumbles with satisfaction, the way his hips roll into Yixing’s beneath him.

He shudders, and with a stuttering movement, Yixing lets his head fall back, just enough for Baekhyun to surge forward and bite his own mark, his own claim, there, in the junction between shoulder and neck. It is a compromise to the traditional mark, on the back of the neck. And maybe that will come later, their defiance writ large on their skin. But for now, this livid circle of teeth mollifies them both.

Baekhyun lets Yixing flip them again, rakes sharp fingernails across his back as Yixing thrusts into him.

There’s no omega slick to help him, only lube they’d had to buy from some back alley dealer. Yixing had insisted on over preparing him, when they were both still clear eyed enough to speak. He’d insisted on a safeword, of sorts, safe action really, since they both assumed they’d be beyond words. A sharp tug on the ear, and everything would stop.

Baekhyun never, ever, wanted this to stop.

Everywhere, since they’d been children, had insisted this act was contrary to nature, was a sin above all others. Freakish, an abomination. On his back, with Yixing above him, staring at him with eyes lost and feral and somehow still Yixing, Baekhyun wants nothing more than to take the knot he could feel at Yixing’s base, slamming into him with every thrust. It wouldn’t happen, Baekhyun’s biology wasn’t equipped for it, not without relaxants and maybe a plug, not without work. But he thinks about it, about a future of the two of them, like this, in rut together, about Yixing’s knot pushing inside him and holding there, and he keens. He gathers blood from his face, smears a bit more from Yixing’s neck where it oozes from Baekhyun’s bite, reaches down, and mixes it with his own precome to form a bloody slick, wraps his hand around himself. He pulls, roughly, wild with it. Yixing’s eyes go wide and he makes a sound between a growl and a whine, hips losing all sense of rhythm as he chases his release mindlessly. The pain of Yixing’s last thrust, trying in vain to force his knot into Baekhyun’s body, tips Baekhyun over the edge, come painting both of their chests, his own knot throbbing.

It must have been only seconds that passed but it felt like hours. Yixing was collapsed half on top of him, no longer inside him, come leaking slowly out of Baekhyun’s ass. They were cheek to cheek, Yixing’s heavy panting breaths tickling Baekhyun’s neck. He didn’t want to move but he knew the blood from his cut would glue them together soon, and Yixing would feel guilty for the pain.

“Xing,” he murmurs.

Yixing hums low and he can feel the vibrations of it everywhere. He shivers. Yixing feels the shiver and lifts his head, their skin disconnecting with a squelch and a flash of bright pain. Baekhyun doesn’t manage to completely hide the flinch.

Brow furrowed in concern, Yixing rakes his eyes over him, and Baekhyun can see the visceral satisfaction when he looks at the cut on his face, and then the guilt and closed expression that follows immediately after. Baekhyun lifts a gentle hand to the back of his head, trails it through his hair, down his neck, and circles the ring of teeth left, still weeping blood, on his mate’s body. When he meets Yixing’s eyes again, there is understanding there.

They kiss, slowly, softly, like coming home.

“I love you,” Baekhyun whispers when they pull apart. He smirks. “My big strong alpha.”

Yixing smiles his small private smile, the one he only ever shares with Baekhyun. “I love you, too.” Yixing bends to kiss him on the nose. “My mate.”

The love, and the sense of rightness, that surges through Baekhyun’s body like a wave makes anything seem possible.