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the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

Summary:

Andrew begs for you to hurt him. You hesitate.. until you dont.

Notes:

Guess whos back with more hozier smut :D

Im sorry nobody asked for this

This one is lowkey weird so again im sorry please tell me in the comments about how disgusting this is

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

you’ve always known there was something dangerous in andrew. the way his voice sometimes shakes when he talks about the past. the way he stares at his hands too long, like he’s remembering what they’ve done.

one night, andrew shows up at your door, blood on his knuckles, jaw clenched, barely speaking. you clean him up, but he won’t stop looking at you like you’re the one who could hurt him more than anything else ever has.

and then he asks. quietly. "hurt me. please."

not out of hate. not anger. but trust. a need to feel something real. he doesn’t want to fuck you. not at first. he wants you to slice a line across his ribs with the tip of a knife. wants you to press down, slow. wants to see if you'll still kiss him when he's trembling.

“Tell me to stop,” you whisper.

“I won’t,” he breathes. “Not with you.”

the blade glides gently over his skin. barely breaking it, just enough to sting. his head falls back against the pillows, mouth slack. hands behind his back, bound with his own shirt because he needs to give up control.

“this is what you want?” you ask.

“No,” he growls. “This is what I need.” he looks up at you like you’re holy. like the blade in your hand is a rosary and your body is the thing he’s about to worship. mouth open, trembling for redemption.

“you don’t have to do this,” you whisper.

“i want you to.” his voice is hoarse, low. “don’t go easy on me.”

you straddle him slowly. his breath catches when your bare thighs press against his. he’s hard already. has been since you pressed that first kiss to the bruise on his jaw, since you cleaned his wounds like you loved him. that’s what’s killing him, isn’t it? the care. the kindness. it burns more than any blade.

your fingers trace the dip of his ribs, and he twitches. you press the edge of the knife there, just enough to make the skin dimple. he groans. not in pain. in relief.

“you bleed so pretty,” you murmur. you cut a slow, thin line. just enough to sting. just enough to remind him he’s real.

he gasps, hips jerking under you. you swear you could see his cock jump in his pants. “fuck—do it again.”

you drag your nails down andrews chest this time, letting your tongue follow the trail of red. you grind down on his lap, still clothed, and he moans like he’s unraveling. you cut another line across his waist band. he lets out a broken sound. you watch his adams apple bop.

"love, please- im gonna cum like this if you-"

you slap his face gently. just once, as if testing the waters. his eyes flutter.

“you better fucking not,” you say. “Not until you beg.”

he looks up at you, pupils blown. “please. I need it. need you to ruin me.”

you enjoy making him beg. you undo his jeans with slow, cruel fingers, pull him free, wrap your fist around him with blood still on your palm. you stroke him just how he likes, tight and slow, your knife pressed flat against his throat, not cutting, just a threat. just a promise. hes panting, hips rolling uncontrollably.

“im yours,” he chokes out. “please don’t stop.”

when you finally sink down on him, it’s slow and thick and filthy. you ride him like a slow exhale, like penance, one hand tugging his hair back so you can watch his mouth fall open. he’s whimpering under you. you don’t let up.

your name falls from his lips like prayer. over and over, desperately. whimpers and pleads, of how he needs this. you continue scratching his biceps with the knife as you ride him.

"dont cum." you command.

"i- i cant. fuck-"

"then beg for forgiveness."

you let him cum shortly after anyways. because you love him.

...

you untie his hands and wipe the blood away carefully, applying bandages on particularly bad spots. andrew refuses to meet your eyes until you kiss him and murmur

"youre such a good boy."

he clings to you like a lifeline. like it wasnt the pain that saved him. but you. then you lay in bed together, your fingers tangled up in his hair.

"thank you.." he mutters into your neck.

"next time, tell me whats hurting you instead of making me cut it out of you."

he laughs, broken and wet. you two fall asleep like that, safe and in love.

Chapter 2: before the first light

Summary:

andrew wants to make it up to you for what he had you do last night.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

the light is golden when you wake.
and he’s already between your thighs.

at first, you think it’s a dream. his hair spilling down your stomach, his arms locked around your hips, holding you steady like he’s anchoring himself to the real world.

but the heat of his tongue? the slow, deliberate roll of it through your folds, pausing at your clit like a reverent kiss? that’s real.

"what are you doing?” you whisper, still half-asleep.

he doesn't look up. just murmurs against your skin

“repenting.”

His mouth is so gentle you almost cry.

there’s none of last night’s desperation, none of the blades or the pain. just slow, wet circles of his tongue. long licks like he’s savoring you. like you’re the most important thing he’s ever tasted.

"let me,” he breathes. “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.
You let go.

fingers in his curls, eyes fluttering shut, legs thrown over his shoulders. he hums when you moan. fucking moans into your pussy like it’s the only thing he wants in his throat. and when you try to pull away, too sensitive, too much, he grabs your thighs and holds you down.

“don’t run from it,” he whispers. “you gave me everything last night. let me give it back.”

you come once like a gasp.
twice like a sob.

by the third time, your whole body is shaking. your hands are in his hair, tugging, nails scraping his scalp, and he still won’t stop. still licking. still whispering things like:

“you taste like forgiveness.”
“you’re so good to me.”
“i could die like this.”

and when he finally crawls up your body, face wet, lips swollen, he kisses you like he’s starved.

"still scared of me?” he asks softly.

“no,” you whisper.

“good.” he grins, crooked and sweet.

“'cause I’m not done proving how much I love you.”

Notes:

okay yeah did i eat w this oneee

Notes:

I hope u had fun. Probably didnt.

Also if you guys have ever posted a work and seen that you can choose ASL and BSL as the official language of the work? Why??? Deaf people can read?????????