Blood (San)
content warning: vampire, blood, knife play, switch, sex, chains; dubcon
Masterlist
Minors DNI 🔞
word count: 3678
You don't remember falling asleep, but you wake up warm... too warm. Sheets like silk cling to your skin. The air smells faintly sweet...like something ripe and overripe at once...like fruit and pennies.
Your wrists ache. That's the first real thing you feel.
You blink groggily, vision blurred at the edges... and then you hear the sound. A slow drag of fabric. Movement. Someone's here.
You shift... and metal rattles. Your hands don't move far, and you realize you're chained.
Panic surges hard in your chest, but it's faint on the surface and followed by questions you can't answer. Had you been drugged? How long had you been there? Who had captured you? It's all cloudy... like every thought is swimming toward the surface and drowning halfway there.
Then you see him sitting in the shadows at the edge of the bed.
Choi San.
Legs spread, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers loosely tangled together. His eyes are fixed on you. He's calm....patient...like he's been watching for a while.
And when your gaze meets his... you stop breathing.
He tilts his head slowly, "Finally awake my sweet girl?"
Your mouth is dry. "W... where am I?"
"Shh." He rises, walking toward you with that same quiet fluidity. He moves like he doesn't have to hurry...like you're already his.
You pull against the chains, but they clink uselessly.
He smiles, flashing teeth that seem too sharp. "Don't bother," he says softly. "I didn't put you here to hurt you."
You stare at him, heart racing. Your body is warm... too warm considering you're barely clothed in what you can only assume is one of his shirts. The collar is loose, slipping off your shoulder. You feel exposed and vulnerable because you know you weren't wearing this yesterday. "If I'm not here to be hurt, why do you need the chains?"
His eyes flash with a glimmer of amusement. "You came to me, sweet girl?" he taunts. "Don't you remember? You followed me after the show asking to be with me."
You shake your head. You can't recall a thing, but it doesn't sound like something you'd do. "I don't think..."
He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, so close that the warmth in your body deepens like a flush.
"Yes, you did," he assures you. "You begged for it. You stared at me from the crowd like you wanted me to ruin you. Then you pursued me down the street like a desperate little whore."
You try to look away... but can't. His eyes hold yours, as the blanket is removed. Your pulse thuds in your ears.
"Such a sweet girl," he murmurs, voice dropping as he brushes a thumb across your blood colored cheek. "Even now...when you've finally got what you wanted all along...you're pretending to resist so save your own image."
You can't remember anything past the opening of the concert. "What did you do to me?" you tremble.
His smile turns cold. "Nothing you didn't ask for."
You shake your head again... barely. Your body isn't listening.
His hand trails lower... across your throat, your collarbone... until he finds the edge of the shirt and traces under it.
"You're so warm, sweet girl," he sighs. "That's how I know you're ready for me now." He leans down until his lips brush your ear. "I've been so good while waiting for you to wake up. I haven't even tasted you yet." His voice is soft, but your body reacts as if he'd screamed it.
You suck in a breath...sharp, quick, already halfway to pulling away before the cuffs remind you they aren't for show.
He leans back just enough to meet your eyes again. His gaze is hungrier than any look you've ever seen.
Then you hear it...
Metal sliding from leather.
Your stomach drops.
The knife appears in his hand. It's cold and cruel and sharp and pointed. The kind of beautiful you only ever associate with something that hurts.
Your breath catches in your throat, fear making your shrink back against the bed.
San tilts it, just a little, letting the ambient light catch the edge. It gleams.
You can't look away. Not from the blade... not from him.
"I want to see it," he taunts, eyes trailing across your perfectly untouched skin. "I want to see what your skin looks like when it opens for me."
He presses the flat of the knife to your thigh...just above where the hem of his shirt rests. The chill makes you shiver, but you don't flinch. You can't give him the satisfaction.
"Good girl," he breathes. "Stay very, very still."
He drags it up slowly, skimming the inside of your thigh, then tracing the curve of your hip... never cutting. Just letting the edge promise what could come next.
The shirt slips from your shoulder entirely. He looks at it, then at you.
"You want it, don't you?" he asks. "The pain. The heat. The proof that you're real...that this isn't a dream."
You don't speak. You can't without incriminating yourself.
The tip of the blade dips under the shirt, just at your collarbone. And this time, he applies just enough pressure.
A sting runs across your skin.
He pulls the knife back revealing a single trail of blood. It's slow and red and beautiful.
San's eyes go black, and he tilts his head curiously before leaning down and licking it with a slow drag of his tongue.
Your whole body clenches, wrists straining in their binds, breath punching from your lungs.
He moans.
"Sweet girl," he whispers against your neck. "Blood like candy."
And then, while your skin is still tingling, still slick with his tongue...he bites. His teeth sink in with no hesitation or warning as the burn of the knife blurs into the deeper, darker ache of his fangs. Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out. It's too much pain and pleasure to know what sounds would be appropriate and your body decides, instead to shut down.
San grips your hips, holding you down like you might float away.
You can feel every slow draw of his mouth... the pull of your blood, warm and pulsing between you. His tongue laps at the wound like it's sacred, and all you can do is give it to him.
He doesn't stop after the bite.
You think he might...just for a moment. His mouth leaves your throat, lips red with your blood, tongue sweeping across the corner of his mouth like he wants to savor every trace. He's glowing...not with light, but with a hunger so ancient and terrifying that you can't help but find him beautiful.
You barely have time to blink before the knife returns.
His hand slides back down to your thigh... the blade going with it. He flips it in his palm like he's done it a thousand times before...and maybe he has. The tip hovers just above the curve of your inner thigh, still untouched, still clothed in the illusion of modesty.
You flinch this time.
San doesn't react with annoyance. Instead, he smiles. "Now you're starting to understand, sweet girl," he murmurs. "I'm an enigma. Something so terrifying you can't help but want me."
He presses the blade higher and your legs involuntarily tense against the feeling as your hips rut towards him...inviting him closer.
San's fingers ghost along the outer edge of your other thigh. They're cold against your warmth and gentle in comparison to the knife. He watches your reactions the way a scientist watches a test subject...in fascination at every twitch and in complete control of what's to come.
"Does it scare you?" he asks, voice low. "That I'm being careful?"
You blink at him.
"Because I could be careless," he says, dragging the tip of the blade higher, until it nudges against your panties. "I could tear this off you. Slice it open. Mark you where no one else ever gets to see."
Your thighs tremble. You're surely soaked by now. You know he can feel it...sense it. But he doesn't mock you.
"I won't cut you there," he explains. "Not yet."
He presses a kiss to your knee, trailing his lips upward. You can't stop watching him, can't look away from the way his mouth moves over your skin like it belongs there.
The knife drags upward again, grazing lightly over the waistband of your panties. Then... just above it to your stomach.
"This skin," he whispers softly, "is begging for it."
He nicks you again. Another shallow cut that's clean and efficient. The skin splits like silk. Blood wells to the surface, and his eyes darken. San bends forward immediately and licks the line open.
Your head falls back at the euphoric feeling of his teeth grazing your skin.
He groans like your pleasure feeds something deeper than thirst.
His other hand moves to your wrists, tracing the metal cuffs, then trailing down your arm. He catches your chin between his fingers and tilts your face back to his.
"You like this," he notices. "Dirty little thing."
You should lie. You should say no, but your hips roll before you can stop them, seeking friction...relief...anything.
"Say it," he says, voice sharper now. "Tell me you want more."
You clench your teeth, determined not to give him what he wants.
He smirks, "I can make you beg if you'd prefer."
The knife drops to the mattress beside your hip. He doesn't need it for the next part. He tugs your panties down and smirks knowingly when you lift your hips permissively.
He doesn't praise you. The look in his eyes is enough to tell you that this was the only outcome he ever expected...the inevitable end to a game only he knows is being played.
San presses his palm flat against your bare core. You're thoroughly soaked. You know it, now so does he.
His fingers slide between your folds, just enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy. When you whimper, finally breaking, he grins devilishly, "There my sweet girl..."
He brings his bloodstained fingers to your lips.
"Suck."
You obey. The taste is faintly metallic. And when he sees you take them into your mouth without question, the last thread of restraint slips from his expression.
San leans in, fangs just barely brushing your lower lip. "I'm going to fuck you," he warns bluntly. It isn't a question.
Your chest rises in shaky and uneven breaths. You don't know whether to beg or cry.
He moves slowly now with no rush. San picks the knife back up, and his fingers grip the hilt easily, like it's just an extension of his hand. You watch the blade flash in the low light... watch it dip between your thighs.
You tense. The cuffs above you clink again as you try to pull away.
"Still trying to resist me?" he murmurs. "You can give in to your needs here, sweet girl," he hums, his breath hot on your skin. "It'll be our little secret."
The blade is warmer when it touches you, and you realize it's because of the blood. He moves it up slowly until the tip barely nudges the lips of your cunt. Not cutting...not yet. It's as if he finds pleasure in playing with his food.
You whimper.
"Good girl," he praises. "Don't move."
You stay still. Completely still. He tilts the blade.
The thick, blunt spine (not the sharp edge) rests against your folds. You suck in a breath as he presses it in to part your labia.
You gasp at the intrusion. Your hips buck automatically, but the chains stop you from going too far. San's other hand presses firmly against your thigh, holding you wide open as he slides the hilt up and down your slit. It's slow and obscene.
Your legs shake. You're drenched and hate yourself for it. You shouldn't want this. You should fight it, but your body has already conceded for you.
"You moaned," he points out. "Sweet girl, I'll give you what I promised you I would last night. There's no need to be ashamed."
Then, without looking away, San turns the blade in his palm and squeezes.
You see it happen in real time...his fingers clenching around the steel, the edge biting into his own skin, slicing through the meat of his palm without hesitation. Blood appears instantly, dripping thick and red down the hilt... down your thighs.
Your eyes widened. "San!"
"Shh," he breathes. "You'll love it."
He brings his bleeding hand to your mouth.
"Open."
You hesitate for one heartbeat, but the look in his eye leaves no room for negotiation. Your lips part.
His blood touches your tongue...hot, metallic, electric. You jerk against the cuffs, but he catches your chin and holds it. More blood pools into your mouth and down your throat. You swallow it without thinking.
It burns.
Not like fire. Not like pain. It's heat. It's alive. It's like your body has woken up to something it didn't know it was missing.
San watches you drink from him like it's the only thing that matters. His blood drips down your chin and chest, mixing into the cuts he'd already given you.
He leans in close... lips brushing your ear.
"Now," he whispers. "Now you're mine."
Your eyes flutter open, your vision unfocused. The cuffs still hold your arms above your head, but your body stops resisting. You barely remember the knife anymore... only the heat between your thighs, the ache in your chest, and the taste of his blood still thick on your tongue.
You blink. "What... what do you mean?"
San hums softly, "You drank from me."
His hand moves to your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip like he's remembering how you licked him clean.
"And that means I can turn you."
Your breath catches. "No," you whisper, your heart pounding. "Please... don't."
He tilts his head. "Don't what?"
"I didn't ask for that. I didn't want..."
His finger presses gently to your lips. "Shhh..."
"I want to stay me," you beg. "I don't want to be like you."
San leans in and kisses your throat right over the last bite. His tongue presses against your skin.
"You don't want to be like me?" he questions. "And yet, you want me to bite you again, don't you?"
You don't answer.
His hand slides down your throat, over your breast, down your stomach, and between your thighs. He finds you wet and soaked and sighs against your throat.
"You're a desperate little thing."
You moan. It comes out before you can stop it. His touch is light... teasing... two fingers sliding against your slit, up to your clit, rubbing slow little circles until your back arches off the bed.
"Your body knows what it wants, sweet girl," he sighs.
"San," your eyes roll back as you become weak for him.
His mouth finds your neck again.
"Say it," he taunts against your skin. "Tell me you want me to stop."
"I..."
His teeth graze your skin again, and his fingers don't stop moving. You're a needy mess beneath him.
"Tell me no," he warns. "Or I'll fuck you until you stop breathing."
Your moan gives him the answer. It's all he needs to thrust inside you...deep, hot, and desperate. You gasp at the sudden fullness, at the way he stretches you open like he'd been waiting for this chance his entire life.
His hands find your hips, and he holds you steady while he fucks you like he's meant to shake your soul loose.
"Every time I bite you," he growls into your neck, "you clench around me harder."
He bites you again. It's not deep, but hard. You cry out as blood spills down your collarbone, and his mouth latches onto it, drinking greedily, tongue flicking over your skin while his hips never slow.
"It'd be pathetic how desperate you are if you were so fucking sexy," he groans.
You're shaking now. Your whole body is vibrating with overstimulation. The cuffs hold you in place while he slams into you again and again—cock pounding into your soaked cunt with a relentless, inhuman rhythm.
And then his hand comes up to your throat. He doesn't squeeze... not at first. He just holds you there, his thumb resting against your pulse.
You look into his eyes, and he knows you're already close.
When he finally adds pressure, he uses only uses a little to start, but he adds more when he sees its effect on you.
Your vision blurs at the edges. Your pussy clenches desperately as your orgasm builds with the breath stolen from your lungs.
He bites again, right on your breast, and the shock sends you shooting into a full-body climax. You scream so loudly that it barely sounds human. Your thighs shake. Your cunt flutters around him like it doesn't want to let go.
And still... he keeps going.
You can't breathe. The air is gone. The room is spinning.
Your heart skips once.
Twice.
And then you die.
Your body goes limp, but he doesn't stop.
San fucks you through your last heartbeat...through your last shudder...through your death. He bites your throat one more time and greedily sucks the last drop.
And the moment your eyes fly back open they're burning, wild, and new. You're still on his cock, still being fucked in a way that shouldn't be possibly, and you come again.
A howl tears out of you...one wet and feral with pure bliss and hunger.
"Good girl," he grunts.
Your breath hitches, your first inhale as something reborn. The air burns in your lungs as sharply as the knife. It was as though you were tasting the whole world for the first time.
You blink up at him.
San hovers above you, still buried in your body, still throbbing inside your slick heat. His eyes are dark with pride, with hunger, with possession.
But you feel different now. You feel strong. Your fingers curl, and you know it's not a placebo. There's an intense strength coiled in your muscles now. The pulse of his vampiric blood is still echoing in your veins.
You look up at your chained wrists and pull. They snap with a crack like thunder.
San freezes.
You sit up and push him beneath you. You pin him down and straddle him. His eyes widen, and his cock twitches inside of you, turned on by your strength.
A grin curves on your lips at the shimmer in your peripheral vision, and then your hand drops to the side of the bed.
You pick up the knife.
The same blade that had sliced your skin...that had fed him...that had baptized you in pain and lust and something worse is now your tool to wield.
Blood clings to the edge, dried in parts, still wet in others where your thighs had soaked it. His blood. Yours. Thick, rich, almost black in the low light.
San's lips part as he watches you bring the blade to your mouth.
"Fuck," he breathes.
You flatten your tongue against the steel and lick it clean from base to tip. The iron tang of blood hits your taste buds like lightning. Your satisfactory moan is low and feral.
San's hands grip your thighs so tightly you feel the purple bruises forming.
His eyes are locked on your mouth...on your tongue dragging along the metal...on the way your eyes darken at the first taste of blood.
He swallows hard. His hips grind faster.
"You like that?" you taunt.
He says nothing.
You lick the other side of the blade, then press a kiss to the hilt.
San groans. His hips bucked into you, cock pulsing deep inside, and you feel it... his body surrendering even while his pride refuses to speak it out loud.
"You want to be ruined too, don't you?"
His jaw clenches. He doesn't answer.
You decide to show him what you can do now. In one smooth motion, you slide the blood-slick hilt between his thighs and press it to the tight hole behind his balls.
His eyes snapped open in shock and need.
You push just a little. Once it's still inside him, you rock your hips, desperately fucking yourself on his lengthy cock, your pussy soaking and dripping as you slide the handle of the knife deeper into him.
San breaks. His head falls back against the sheets, neck arched, hands digging into the meat of your thighs like he needs to anchor himself before he unravels completely.
"You gave me your knife," you whisper, grinding down harder, "and now I'm just giving it back, Sannie."
You lean forward, mouth to his ear, hips slamming down onto him while the knife hilt stretches him open.
"I want you to feel what I felt. I want to split you open while I fuck you full."
He loses it.
He thrusts up into you, desperate and messy with his mouth on your throat, your jaw, your lips, moaning into your skin like a man being wrecked by his own creation.
You ride him through it, one hand buried in his hair, the other fucking the hilt of the knife deeper into him as his body trembles beneath yours.
"Good boy," you praise before pulling out the knife and offering him your cut hand. "Now lick it clean."
