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The room is dark around us, except for the few candles I’d lit before joining you in our big bed. A storm is in the distance, the low rumbles of occasional thunder signaling its approach. For now, only a light rain falls outside but the wind is gusty – rushing around the corners of the house with an eerie howl.

Our rituals are unspoken and undefined, yet we’d always practiced them with the reverence of a pious Christian imbibing their Christ on the venerated day of rest. We’d even taken to calling it “communion”, when we joined like this – when we met in our darkened and candlelit room to partake of the other, to share and give of each other’s body, of each other’s blood – worshipping one another with our own dark rites.

We’re sitting on the bed, facing one another. The flicking candle flames cast shadows every where, deepening the already dark circles around your eyes – you look positively frightening in this light and it gives me a shiver every time I see you in it. I hand you the razor blade, and you take it from me without even looking at it.

“Where?” you ask, eyes boring into mine. There’s no need for many words, not when we’re communicating on this level.

I reach out and lightly trace a faint line just above your right nipple.

I sit back again, waiting while you prepare for the cut – the cleansing. I’ve cut there before, but never deeply. It’s a sweet pain – a warm burning that is pleasurable. I’m giddy with anticipation, and twist my hands in my lap anxiously.

I like to cut quickly and violently – but you’re much more methodical than I; or perhaps sadistic is a better word. You cut slowly, and deeply – I watch as you push the blade into your skin and unhurriedly begin to drag it across. My first instinct, always, is to turn away, but I don’t. Instead I watch in rapt fascination as the bright metal slides across your skin – leaving a deep, red line in its wake. It’s not a very long cut, and as you get to the end the first thick droplet of blood begins to seep from the wound.

With a primal moan, I move towards you, putting my hands against your chest and bringing my mouth to the cut. The sight of the blood alone has me in a state of euphoria, but it’s still nothing compared to the first taste of it on my tongue. Hungrily, I lick the blood that is now flowing freely – you never disappoint me, always cutting deep enough for a steady flow. I feel you wrap your arms around me with a low moan. I bathe the wound, drinking of you, swirling my tongue around your nipple and staining your chest with smeared blood. I think I might cum just from this. Tasting your blood brings me to my most primal state, and all I know now is to taste and drink of you, going at you like some wild animal. I bite your nipple viciously, and you grab a handful of my hair, yanking it hard and forcing my head back. I look up at you, my mouth smeared with blood, my eyes wide and wild. I lick my lip, wanting what I know is going to come next.

Your lips meet mine in a hard kiss. You push me onto my back and in a seemingly fluid motion ram your cock inside of me. There’s no need for ceremony, the need is too urgent. I cry out in pleasure and pain. You move up on me, so that I have access once more to your bloodied chest. Greedily, I wrap my arms around you, digging my nails into your back and pulling you closer so that I can taste you again. I can hear your own moans, groans and growls and mixing with my own it’s a beautiful primordial cacophony. You’re fucking me so hard, and it hurts but I still want more.

I feel you grabbing my wrist and pulling it above my head, and up to you. I’m not expecting the sudden dull sting that suddenly burns just below my wrist or the sensation of cold air on an open wound and I cry out, loving the feeling, loving that you’ve opened me up. You don’t taste me right away, because I can feel a long rivulet of blood trickle down the length of my arm. Then the warmth of your mouth closes over the exposed cut and I can feel your wet tongue slowly teasing the small opening. You pull back and lick the blood that is pouring out now, your tongue following the long trail of it down my arm. After a bit of this ecstasy – being fucked by you, tasting you while you’re tasting me, you bring your face to mine. I wonder if I look as you do – wild with a feral-bloodlust burning in your eyes, almost as if you’re drunk on my blood, your mouth and cheeks smeared with the dark red liquid. The storm outside has come – thunder explodes and lightening illuminates the room with an eerie pale blue glow as torrents of rain pound against the window. You kiss me feverishly, and I wonder how we can ever join more fully in our earthly forms – our blood and saliva mixing in our kiss, your cock buried deep inside of me soon to pour forth your seed. I can feel my own orgasm rising at the thought, and know yours is as well. I feel you spasm inside of me, a second ahead of my own, and it hits me like a tidal wave. The entire universe is reduced to a swirling rapture of nothingness – only you and I and our raucous cries.

I awake a bit later – unsure how much time has passed. The intensity of our coming together apparently knocked us straight into an unconscious state. The storm has passed and the room is still, the dripping candles still dancing on their wicks in the hushed air. You’re lying on top of me, your head resting on my chest. Your eyes open as I look down at you. I give you a weak smile, and you lean up and kiss me gently. You take my hand and kiss my cut, still bleeding slightly. My entire arm is covered in drying blood – in fact, most of our bodies and the bed are. The intensity of the orgasm begins to hit me as I come down and back to reality, and tears well in my eyes. You crawl up closer to me, sliding out of me in the process, and pull me into your arms and rock me gently while I cry, whispering soft words into my ear – I always cry after these exchanges, great racking sobs that will eventually subside into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. As the tears lessen, I look up at you, a smile on my face – already feeling the urge to laugh and you smile back at me.

“There is nothing,” I whisper to you, touching your face. “Nothing but this – nothing but us.” You pull me to you and kiss me again, a slow, tender and soft kiss that eventually leads into a heated, passionate one. I can feel your cock stirring against my leg once more and suddenly I need you inside of me again with a terrible urgency. We make love then, in the early morning hours, and fall into a deep sleep with you still inside of me.

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