Against the World

Chapter 4

MIDORIYA'S POV

Kacchan's lips were on my neck, biting hard enough that it felt like he was breaking skin, not that I'm complaining. I may not understand a lot of feelings, but I do understand pain and pleasure, which often coincide with each other for me.

"Clothes, off, now," he hissed into my ear before taking the lobe in his mouth and biting hard. I bucked my hips against him, which turned out to be a mistake. His knee pressed against my cock roughly, pushing me back against the door.

I groaned in pain at the intense pressure on my cock and balls while his teeth continued sinking into my skin. "Give me the knife in your pocket," he said.

Without hesitation, I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled my favorite knife from there. It was a Karambit Talon pocket knife with a metal dragon going up the handle. It was the same green as my hair and eyes. These are my favorite types of knives, but this one isn't as curved and beautiful as I would want it to be since it's a foldable knife.

"What's your safe word?" he asked, taking the knife from my fingers.

"I don't have one." I've never needed one. There's never been a person who can push my limits like that.

He laughed cynically against my neck before pulling away. "I won't go on without a safe word," he warned.

"Vanilla," I said.

He nodded. "That is the only word I will stop for. I will not stop for anything else," he said. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said as the cold of my knife slid under my shirt. It wasn't the blade, but the handle was definitely enough to get me excited.

"You have thirty seconds to get undressed." He took a step back and flipped the knife open. "Whatever clothes you still have on after thirty seconds, I'll be cutting off of you."

He acts like that's supposed to make me strip faster. I kicked my shoes off before sliding my socks off and stuffing them inside my shoes. Then, I kicked my jeans off since they are my favorite jeans. They have holes up the thighs and hug every curve and muscle tightly. Lastly, I took my sweatshirt off and tossed it with the rest of my clothes. In nothing but my boxers and my black t-shirt, I crossed my arms and leaned against the door.

"Six more seconds," he said, amusement lacing his voice as he took in the massive bulge in my boxers.

"You can end the timer whenever you want."

"If you move, I will end up cutting you," he warned. "Which could be fatal and start a war between your gang and us. So please, don't fucking move." He stepped forward and put the knife against the top of my shirt before gripping it with his left hand. Slowly, he started dragging the knife down, slightly digging the tip into my skin. It felt like a long, deep cat scratch, and it was taking everything in my power not to buck my hips against his.

But I don't want that knife to dig in deeper than it's supposed to. He was correct about saying it would start a war. If he were to kill me on purpose, he would deserve that. However, nobody would believe that he accidentally killed me by dragging a knife across my body. And if they did, they would probably start a war anyway.

He leaned forward to kiss my chest but stopped. He looked up at me as he continued cutting my shirt from my body. He had incredible control, and I'm surprised. I have horrible control when I'm anxious about something like this.

"When's the last time you were tested?" he asked.

"Two months ago," I said. "I've only been with my roommates since then, who tested clean at the same time."