You and Ike, in eachother's arms, blades in hand, cutting eachother lovingly. Slits and lines are drawn across your bodies together, some small and delicate, some jagged and violent, but both of you entranced by the way the blood cascades down your arms and chests and legs. When you're both decorated and designed, you simply feel eachother. There's no inherent sexual desire here, just touching and caressing your shared open wounds together, letting your blood mix as hands touch everything, inside and out. It's intimate, feeling him this way as he explores all of you. Maybe he even presses those delicate hands into your cuts, slipping a crimson stained fingertip in his mouth and tasting it, calling it sweet, a gentle smile on his face where your blood is smudged on his lip, and you can't help but lean in and kiss it off.