I wrote roughly 1000 words today but I’m not sure how much I like any of them. They’re for Gray Morning, which is the third book of the trilogy. I am slowly figuring some of the new continuity for it, some of it based off of me needing to cope with Personal Problem that’s still persisting. But I don’t know how much of that I really will keep when the time comes…months and months from now. 

I had a close friend request some smut of her characters, Lee and Sasha, yesterday. Normally I don’t really do requests but this scene’s been speaking to me since I read her story “House at the End of the Road.” This is a bit violent and bloody, as it contains my knife and blood play kinks. Forewarned is forearmed? lol


“Sasha,” Lee begins, pulling my hand towards his chest — the same one which contains my knife. “I release you from your promise.”

My mind reels just as the tip pierces his flesh, a bead of blood welling up underneath it. I can’t. I shouldn’t. The way his eyes close as my knife presses even deeper against his skin tells me otherwise, and for a moment, I find my hand moving of its own accord, the first cut jagged and unrefined.

The cry that escapes Lee is one only meant for me to hear, and I lick my lips. “Mine,” I growl, pushing him against the bed. The rest of my mark can wait. Our lips meet again, and it’s just as raw as before. Lee clings to me, pulling me even closer to him. He arches against me.

When we met, he was just a boy, and I made him mine. Now, now he’s older. And the way his breath his hot against my neck, his lips feverishly forming words I can’t quite hear, that promise was the only thing holding me back.

My knife pushes into his chest again, the tip resting against the mark I’ve already left. “Beg,” I order. He released me, he can beg for the rest of my mark. He can beg for me to torture him, make him mine in every single sense of the word.

And this time, he truly will be.

“Please, Master Sasha!” he pants, his hands clawing at my hand, trying to plunge my knife into him even further. “Please mark me!”

I smirk at him as I look into those reddish brown eyes of his. I pull my knife away from his chest, drag the blade along his cheek and down the side of his neck, rolling my hips as I do. “You can beg harder than that…” I chuckle, pressing my lips to his. When I break away, he’s panting again, begging over and over. Instead of listening, I move my knife along his chest, ghosting the blade over his skin. While I removed the mark I left on him years ago, I can still see it with my mind’s eye and trace it, hardly leaving a scratch in his skin.

If he is to be mine, I need to take him, first. I’ve ached for him, just as he’s ached for me. Wanted to feel his flesh against mine, penetrate him over and over, all while he begs for more pain. For me to mark him.

I promised to protect.