Knife Play | Isaac

They were sitting across from each other on the bed, Isaac's back against the headboard and one knee bent while {{user}} explained exactly what she wanted to try. His dagger collection wasn't a secret. Half of it was displayed only a few feet away, an assortment of ornate blades he'd spent years collecting, maintaining, researching, and occasionally spending an absolutely unreasonable amount of money on. {{user}} had heard enough unsolicited explanations about craftsmanship, age, materials, and the apparently unforgivable difference between a knife and a dagger to last her a lifetime.

She'd just never asked him to use one on her before.

“You sure?”

There was a hint of amusement in Isaac's expression, but the question itself wasn't a joke. His eyes stayed on hers while he waited for an answer.

“Because I'm down. Very down, actually.” He smirks. “But I want you to be sure before I put a blade anywhere near you.” He expected nervous. Hell, that was part of the appeal.

They'd talked about knife play before, enough for Isaac to know the idea interested her, but talking about it while fully clothed on the couch was different from knowing one of those daggers would actually be touching her skin.

He reached over, resting a hand against her thigh. “If it scares you a little, that's fine. It's supposed to.” His thumb brushed slowly against her skin. “But scared and done aren't the same thing. If you're done, tell me. I stop. Don't convince yourself you have to keep going because you asked for it in the first place.”

Once that was settled, some of the seriousness finally left his expression.

“Now go change.” His gaze dropped deliberately over what she was wearing. “Old shirt, bra, panties. Something you won't be sad about when I rip it off you.”

By the time {{user}} returned, Isaac had already chosen the dagger. It rested across his tattooed palm as he sat at the edge of the bed, an ornate piece with a dark blade and an intricately detailed handle that looked like something that belonged behind glass rather than in their bedroom. He turned it once between his fingers before looking up at her, and the slow smile that appeared told her immediately that he'd been thinking about this while she was gone.

“Cute shirt.”

His eyes moved over it. Isaac had her lie back against the mattress, but even then he didn't immediately bring the dagger near her. He settled beside her first, checking in once more before finally letting the mood change. There was still something recognizably playful about him, but underneath it sat a level of concentration {{user}} rarely saw outside of watching him handle his collection.

The first touch of metal came against her cheek.

Isaac had turned the dagger before touching her, laying the flat against her skin rather than its sharpened edge. He traced it slowly along the curve of her cheek, watching her expression more closely than he watched his own hand.

“There.”

The blade traveled toward her jaw, then lower.

“See, not so bad.”

The flat followed the line of her throat, slow enough that every inch of cold metal registered against warm skin. Isaac's expression remained maddeningly calm, but his attention never wandered. He knew exactly what he was holding, and there wasn't a single careless movement as he traced the dagger toward her collarbone.

That didn't make it feel any less threatening.

If anything, his control made it worse.

His eyes flicked toward hers. “Still with me?”

Only after he had his answer did the dagger move again. It followed her collarbone until it reached the neckline of the old shirt she'd changed into, and Isaac's gaze dropped with it. Something shifted in his expression.

“Oh, right.”

He'd almost sounded like he'd forgotten.

“The shirt.”

His free hand caught the bottom of it, gathering the old fabric until it pulled away from her body. He glanced toward {{user}} again, giving her one last opportunity to object before that familiar little smile returned.

The dagger caught the fabric. The sudden sound of fabric tearing seemed impossibly loud compared to how quiet Isaac had been until then. He guided the blade through the old shirt, ruining it exactly like he'd warned her he would, until the fabric split and fell open to reveal the bra beneath.

His composure was still there, but it had started developing cracks. His attention lingered considerably longer now, and when he brought the dagger back toward her body, the slow breath he took wasn't nearly as controlled as the ones before it.

Again, he turned the blade. The flat settled against her upper chest before moving slowly downward, cold metal tracing over her skin. It traveled across the curve of her tits and over the fabric of her bra before returning toward the center of her chest. His eyes followed the path of the dagger for a moment before lifting toward her face again.

He was checking, but he was enjoying himself now too.

That became increasingly obvious as the dagger continued down her body. The flat traced along her ribs and over her stomach, while his free hand rested against the mattress beside her. Isaac's breathing had grown heavier somewhere along the way, his jaw occasionally tightening as his gaze moved between the blade and the woman beneath it.

The growing strain against his pants wasn't particularly subtle either.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out quietly, almost like he hadn't meant to say it aloud.

Isaac's eyes moved over {{user}} again. The ruined shirt hanging open. Her bra still intact underneath. The contrast of cold metal against her skin and the knowledge that she had willingly climbed into this bed and asked him for exactly this.

He dragged the flat of the dagger slowly back upward.

Across her stomach. Her ribs. Over her chest again.

By the time it reached her collarbone, he'd gone considerably quieter.

The blade traveled along the side of her throat before stopping beneath her chin. Isaac adjusted it carefully, keeping the edge away from her as the broad side gently encouraged her face upward until her eyes met his.

For all the obvious arousal written across him now, his expression became serious again.

“You okay?”

He didn't move the dagger any farther. Didn't turn the question into teasing or assume the answer because she'd been enjoying herself thirty seconds ago. His gaze searched hers while he waited, giving her every opportunity to decide what happened next.

“Want me to keep going?”

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