Scream 4

Chapter 29

(A/N warning: this chapter contains knife-play/other explicit content, a.k.a Danny Johnson just being himself a.k.a Danny Johnson being one kinky bastard)

*~*~*

"Hush, pet. Sssh."

It was soothing sound. It should have been, at least, but you couldn't stop how you sucked in a breath and flinched when an object-an icily cold object- made contact with your bare shoulder.

What a nightmare. What an utter nightmare.

Your mind raced with a million things at once when you felt something that could not have been anything else but a blade resting wide and unmoving on your skin. Thoughts like; why would he do this? And; I'm so stupid were just two of the many hammering in your brain.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to shut Jed and the world around you out, but it only worsened your feeling of not knowing what was about to happen. And several long moments, more like minutes, nothing happened.

Your toes curled up in your shoes.

"Turn around."

You expected the weapon to be at least lowered so you could face him without the risk of having your trachea cut open, but Jed didn't even give you that. Experience told you not to disobey the person holding your life in their hands, so you complied.

In the image of perfect innocence, with his head tipped to the side as if puzzled, he asked, "Why are you trembling?"

"Y-You're holding a knife..." Your voice warbled in your throat out of fear of what the outcome was going to be. Knives were always a source of harm, as you had learned. "Why are-why are you holding a knife?"

"I've already told you," Jed shook his head that was still tilted to the side.
"I am going to teach you."

"Teach me with a knife?" You demanded incredulously. "Surely there are other ways to teach me without a fucking-"

"If you'd like to keep that impertinent tongue of yours it might be smart to keep it still." The edge of impatience encroaching onto his words just then made you blink. So far, you had only experienced the gentle side of him, but never witnessed the flare of impatience that came out of him just now.

His other hand placed itself on your shoulder. Again, not much pressure, but more than enough for you to tell what he wanted you to do. You sank to your knees with the front of the desk behind your neck. What could act as a safe way to ensure nothing harmful was behind you, it now served as a way to trap you between the desk and the man before you.

Your breathing didn't calm down and almost stopped when you stared up at him, into his eyes, hard and dark unlike the rest of his face that remained cool.

Roleplay, you reminded yourself, repeating the word in your mind like it was your lifeline. It's just roleplay. Nothing more. He won't hurt me.

"How much do you like living?" As if underlining his question, the knife neared your cheek dangerously close. It was so sharp you could feel the cutting edge of the blade ghost over your skin even when it hadn't directly touched you yet. The breath leaving you hitched as you gritted your teeth while inching back, the edge of the desk painfully digging against your neck.

Your hand shot up to grip his arm, surprised to find hardened muscle underneath what you thought to be only a lean frame. It wasn't the type of muscle you were used to, as most of the guys you've ever really known worked out for the aesthetic as opposed to the functionality of it.