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Tadashi's already been fucking his employer for months before there's ever a suggestion of anything more extreme. He knows better than most that Ainosuke's tastes have always been far from conventional, having watched quietly from the sidelines as adolescence twisted his young master into something seemingly far crueler, far darker than he'd ever seemed capable of when they were children.
Still. Tadashi also knows exactly how much it takes for him to ask for this, and not simply take it. It's growth of a kind; no longer demanding acquiescence, but truly asking, even laced with the expectation of a rejection judging by how his voice trembles as he does.
Though, of course, that could simply be from how Ainosuke's currently occupied with being drilled into the wall of his master bathroom's waterfall shower when he gasps out his request.
“I want it... So you'll do it for me, right?”
Tadashi falters in his rhythm, earning a frustrated huff from his master. Who seems to take it upon himself to buck back into his hips instead, further threatening his secretary's balance. It's only fair really that he grabs a wet fistful of Ainosuke's cobalt locks, and yanks back sharply, satisfied by the sight of that muscular back curling to accommodate it. The breathy little moan that accompanies it only adds to the picture, making it nigh impossible for Tadashi to even consider turning down his request, impatient as it is.
“This isn't enough for you, Ainosuke-sama? You want it to really hurt?” The teasing lilt to his voice only earns him a furiously stubborn glare thrown over his master's shoulder. Not even the snarled admonishment for his formality can wipe away his barely-there smirk.
The aggressive kiss made up more of teeth than lips does though, and despite the loss of his boss' tight hole wrapped round him, Tadashi finds himself swooning all the same.
“You're going to regret this. Answer me, damn it.” It's growled into his mouth, chased with a possessive bite hard enough he tastes copper as he laps into his lover – his tormentor – his master's mouth.
“Show me how, Ai. That's all I ask.”
The fond warmth in his voice seems too much for Ainosuke, who only manages to rut into his stomach for a handful of seconds longer before his core tenses beneath Tadashi's wandering hands and he spills down his left hip.
It's only as he's stroked through a conciliatory handjob that it occurs to him exactly what Ainosuke's asking of him. He's been trusted before to give and take the pain so intrinsic to his love, but bruises heal quickly, and a cane seldom scars no matter how cruel the lash. To take a blade to him – or better yet, suffer beneath it - and spill that too-precious blood deliberately? A thought so sacrosanct is one he can hardly bear, and he finds himself, rather shamefully, cumming between his master's fingers far too quickly.
-----
Pinning Ainosuke into any kind of box has always been a futile effort, especially when it came to his downright mercurial approach to romance. Though he never approached anything with less than a feral passion, it lent him an unpredictable edge that Tadashi found himself overwhelmed by at times.
So though it's not unprecedented, it's still somewhat strange to find Ainosuke so beautifully compliant.
Though he trembles with excitement, he holds his position obediently as Tadashi takes his time binding his wrists at each thigh. In part, it's to keep him steady for what's still to come, but he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't appreciate the sight of Ainosuke wrapped so carefully in the scarlet rope they'd picked together. Slipping a thumb between the rope and his thigh, he's pleased to feel the muscle twitch beneath his touch; a sure sign Ainosuke's already pleasantly oversensitive.
“How is it, Ai?”
“Mmm...it could be tighter,” he purrs.
Tadashi only tuts softly. As if it isn't going to be enough to go under the knife tonight.
Speaking of which, he steps away now to quickly pull on a vinyl glove, taking up the short blade they'd settled on. It's a light little thing, finely made. Of course it is. Nothing less would meet his master's exacting standards after all.
There's no sense delaying further, and the way Ainosuke jolts as his gloved hand meets his chest is far too gratifying. With a steady touch that belies his own nerves, he spreads his fingers, watching as the skin draws taut and paler between them.
Starting with the blunted edge, he trails it feather-light down the curve of his lover's chest. It's impossible to miss how Ainosuke's breath catches, leaving the surface jumping with each heartbeat. He doesn't bother to ask yet if it's meeting expectations; judging by how his cock twitches where it still lies heavy against his thigh, it does.
Another stroke with the blunt edge – this time just a little harder – raises a thin pink welt, no doubt sure to fade fast. Still, it's proof of concept if nothing else.
The next few minutes pass in loaded silence, only Ainosuke's restrained rasping breaths breaking it occasionally. It doesn't take long before he's squirming impatiently on the spot, staring daggers into the side of Tadashi's head as he leans down to continue tracing fleeting scores down the tender skin of his abdomen.
“'Dashiii,” he whines in a drawn-out nasal tone that immediately calls back to their younger years. God, he'd been such a brat.
“Ready for more?”
The nod he receives is confirmation enough for Tadashi to flip the blade in hand, trying not to think about just how much sharper this is. How easy it would be to just press that little bit harder. Will his master put an end to it the second he feels his skin split? Would he even listen at that point? It would be such a simple thing to push again, feel the tip not just graze, but catch, penetrate. No-one else would ever be able to touch him so deeply, so perfectly. Just one more thing that Tadashi had taken from him over the years and hoarded so jealously for himself.
The first cut is not in fact the deepest. Hell, it barely breaks the upper dermis. But a moment or so after Tadashi lifts the knifepoint from his master's left pectoral there are minute little beads of the finest ruby welling up in its wake.
He stares, utterly transfixed. It's such a small nick. Inconsequential. He's treated worse cuts from Ainosuke's morning shave... But the deliberate intent behind this sends him reeling.
With only the briefest glance at his lover's flushed approving expression, he brings the blade back down, scoring another fine line, intersecting the first. Where they cross, the blood rises fastest, beading into one fat pearl that practically begs to overspill. Tadashi presses his thumb beneath it carefully, watching how it quivers, but doesn't yet roll.
“More.”
“Greedy~”
Though he'd usually never chide Ainosuke so, the space they hold in these nights lets him grow bolder than usual, delighting in the impatient, though far from shameful, huff that earns him.
It's quickly replaced by a surprised half-moan as he works quickly to drag the full knife-edge against the swell of his bicep. The angle is sloppy, and more than once the blade nicks unevenly, digging deeper than expected and rewarding him with a steady little trickle of blood that quickly tracks lower. Only at that does Tadashi notice quite how hard his own heart's pounding at the sight.
With a reverent sigh, he works his thumb into the trail, savouring how it makes the black vinyl glisten even in the dim light cast by the bedside lamp. Ainosuke's groan is all the encouragement he needs to press harder, gripping at the split skin and splaying his fingers to watch it well up all the faster. Another hasty slice an inch or so above the last sees a fine scarlet spiderweb start to spread down his upper arm, and God how that steals Tadashi's breath from him.
Before he knows entirely what he's doing, his thumb is against his own lips while he laves at it in urgent strokes, savouring how copper explodes on his tongue. It's so much better than the taste of his own kiss-bitten lips.
“Share with me.” There's no question in it. And he's never been one to disobey for the sake of it.
Any of his usual finesse is utterly forgotten as he crushes his mouth against Ainosuke's, forcing his tongue in to let him taste himself. There's nothing in the world but the wet heat of their kiss, and his own jack-hammer heartbeat threatening to punch right through his ribcage.
Isn't it wonderful? Do you understand what you've given me?
-----
Whether he understands or not, Ainosuke remains nothing if not generous. When he's been bled for all he can stand, his desperate begging for release fills Tadashi's heart to bursting. And as those ropes uncoil and fall away to return his freedom, he wastes no time in lunging, seemingly uncaring for the blade still tucked amongst the sheets. If anything, the unexpected prick against his palm spurs him on, and Tadashi knows in his deepest soul that nothing could ever compare to the tenderness of Ainosuke's blood-soaked palm cradling his cheek as he turns his face back into the light.
What follows has no right to be as tender as it is, stemming from such cruel roots as they both have. But when Ainosuke collapses on top of him, choking on his own cries as he cums deeper than Tadashi ever thought possible, nothing in his life has ever felt so right.