#ravenpunk

It'd become bloody and rough. That's what he said.

Raven's hands were covered in blood, and Punk didn't know who's blood. That's how he came back to the shitty little apartment they were splitting, that was barely bigger than a studio.

Before Punk could ask anything, Raven was shoving those bloody fingers in his mouth. He tried to pull away, but something was off. Raven was stronger in a way he shouldn't have been. There was something much colder about him, literally. The blood was warm, but Raven's fingers were cold.

"Just fucking suck on it, you stupid brat." Raven barks, his voice echoing. Punk is too stunned to disobey, so he does. The distinct taste of iron and the salt from Raven's skin fill begin to overwhelm him as he does. He feels his knees begin to buckle, and Raven immediately catches him. Punk is safe in his arms, as much as he knows he's in danger. He chooses to feel safe.

As soon as Raven slowly pulls his fingers out, he brings Punk up for a soft kiss, and another one. Before suddenly, the older man bites down on his lip, making Punk whimper before his legs fully give out and Raven is supporting all his weight.

"Good boy." Raven laughs, letting him drop to the floor.

Groaning, Punk is sure he blacked out for at least a moment, because when he opens his eyes, Raven is on the couch already having grabbed a beer from the fridge.