Kavinsky's grin went from simply knowledgeable to downright feral when he had Steve coming up toward the table. He picked up one of the knives and flipped it a few times, back and forth. Back and forth.

"I do know how much you like it when I get a little rough with you, Stevie," he teased. "And I like how you like it."

He flipped the knife some more and then sat on the edge of the table. Who cared about the sins? That's not what this was really about, was it? No, it was about the harm, the injury, the giving oneself over to the gratification of pain. Kavinsky could do a lot with that. He licked his lips and spread his knees.

"C'mere."