Sex Metal Barbie // lashton

prologue

The knife's edge was cold against his jaw, tracing the defined bone ever so gently as his warm eyes stared down at his submissive, kneeling figure. Not with disgust did he look down upon him. Not with disdain either. But with a little something that looked like love. Behind his heavy black leather boots and his turtlenecked, black long sleeved shirt was a man just begging to be understood. A man pleading to be let go of from his indelible memories. A man who wanted nothing more than to be naked for his lover but couldn't bring himself to strip off the layers of armor he's spent so long crafting.

Isn't it dangerous to see just what someone can pick up from past trauma? Isn't it just pitiful how hard they'll try to mask the pain they carry inside?

A gasp filled the air as the tip of the knife gently dug into soft, sweet, porcelain flesh and the sound of two beating hearts echoed through the room as they synced together as if they were built for one another. Like they were made of two halves of one whole. It sounded like a drum, and fortunately for them both the man knew how to beat a drum in a perfect rhythm. He played it like the organ was his own personal instrument, his own possession, but that's okay. It did beat for him anyways.

He wonders what the man's imagining as he trails to blade down his skin, not quite slicing it apart just yet but letting himself indulge in the fact that he could. He definitely could.

"I don't wanna hurt you."

The words filled the air in a gentle hum as it broke the chilling silence, a contradicting remark that meant, "I don't want to physically hurt you, but emotionally, the damage I carry will hurt you. It will kill you."

But he's okay with that.

He leaned forward and the man seemed almost afraid as the tip of the knife broke the gentle skin that connected his neck to his shoulders. Wide eyed and frightened, he dropped the weapon and it's clash to the floor rippled through the still waters of the room.

"I-I-"

He wrapped a hand around the small nick in his body before looking at the bit of smeared blood on his hand. He met the dominant's eyes before holding his hand out, his words strong and definite.

"I'm yours."

He fell to his knees and then tilted his neck ever so slightly to the right before their eyes connected one last time. So many emotions played through his darkened hazel irises, each harder to read than the last. Each came with a new layer of gloss.

"You don't want to be."