"Beautiful," Asher breathes, the cruel sting of nails fading into soft petting as he runs the flat of his hand up Nathaniel's body, stroking and calming his lover. He picks up another knife; not silver this time, he doesn't want too many marks left.

He slides the knife down Nathaniel's arm, against the soft underside, watching as Nathaniel clenches the muscles, trying to hold still.