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Hyunjin wouldn’t have thought things would come to an end like this. He’d never much thought of the end at all. Immortality was a warm cocoon that had taken a lot of the more commonplace worries off his shoulders. He’d never gotten cocky, per se; Minho had taught him to be intelligent and wary, so Hyunjin had never been reckless. But he supposed he’d gotten— complacent.
Which was how he found himself, now, in a vampire trap, the spellwork of the circle glowing under his feet. If he’d been paying attention as he’d flittered through the alleyway, he’d have smelled the magic. He’d have seen the slight ripples in the air. But he hadn’t been paying attention. Dawn was near, and he’d only thought of getting home, where he’d be safe from the sunlight.
The first thing he’d done when the pavement beneath him had burst into icy bluish lines of light and he’d found his feet stuck to the ground was to try and claw at the spellwork. But once activated the chalk lines were no longer— physical in the same way they’d been before. And even if they were, Hyunjin found himself shockingly human, in this moment. The magic of the trap was sapping him of strength, of energy. A lethargy was setting in, and he couldn’t exert anything like his usual strength. He’d tried, in desperation, to use his blood to break the circle — tearing into his wrist with his sharpened canines, blood splattering down across the glowing lines. It did nothing. He couldn’t break the circle from the inside.
His heart was still, unable to pound with his panic, but he felt it all the same. He thought about calling Minho. But that would do no good — his maker had moved several cities away last year, wanting a change of scenery. He’d never be able to get here before dawn. And Hyunjin wasn’t sure he wanted to call him into such a scene, when at any moment, whoever set this trap could come to see exactly what it had snagged.
As the minutes ticked on, the sky going from inky blackness to indigo, and then to a more recognizable dusty blue, Hyunjin realized no one was coming for him. It was a slow, foggy realization, which he came to as he became so weak he could no longer stand. He slumped down onto the asphalt, legs tucked to one side, a hand braced on the ground. He felt tired, he felt sick, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was the circle and how much was the oncoming dawn.
He’d have thought whoever set the trap would come to kill him, or worse, come to— take him. Vampires weren’t easy to capture but they were valuable: their blood, their teeth, hair and skin. Rare and highly demanded pieces for the black market, used in spellwork and tinctures.
It became clear, as the sky began to tint gold, that no one was coming to kill or collect him. A hunter’s trap for certain then. Why bother coming to get their quarry, when the sunlight would take care of it for them.
Hyunjin could no longer feel his feet or hands. He should message Minho, to say goodbye if nothing else. But the thought was foggy, far away, and he could not make himself move.
He’d heard the fire was swift. As he slumped over completely, his temple resting on unforgiving pavement, he hoped it was true.
——
Chan could be a bit of a workaholic, but no one could ever call him a morning bird. If he was awake before the sun rose, it was usually because he’d stayed up all night. The rising sun was a signal to go the fuck to bed, not get out of it.
He’d drawn the short straw today: opening the gym in the morning. But it was the week after the full moon, and they all had to pull their weight. At least he hadn’t drawn the shortest straw — he hadn’t had to open the morning after the full moon. That privilege had gone to Jisung, who’d trudged over to the shopping square with mud still covering his boots.
Still, when Chan cracked a yawn, he allowed it to be a grumpy yawn. Beyond his car’s windshield the sun had not yet even broken over the horizon. The worst part was a lot of the times when he opened the gym, there were actually people waiting for his arrival. What kind of monster wanted to use an elliptical at six in the fucking morning.
He turned down a new street, and felt, even through the glass and metal of his car, a sort of shift in the air. It was almost like a slap, sudden but not nearly so painful, not so physical. Energy, a pulsing tang of it in the air, increasing as Chan drove along the quiet street. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end, and after flicking a glance at the rearview mirror and seeing no one behind him, he eased off the gas, letting the car slow to a meandering roll. It was magic — he couldn’t quite smell it, but there was almost the barest ghost of a scent.
Trying to see better, he leaned forward, peering around. The businesses around here were still all closed at this time, and the apartments above them were darkened, blinds drawn. The car continued to roll, and that presence grew ever stronger, until Chan was passing a dry cleaners that had an alley around the side, and then he finally found the source.
He slammed down on the brake, and the car was already going so slowly it barely lurched. Without thinking, he put the car into park, right in the center of the little lane, and clambered out.
Once outside the smell was strong, fizzy and greenish, like crushed leaves. It was a smell he knew well.
The alleyway was glowing. In the brightening morning, it was not as stark as it had likely been earlier, but still enough to see. White-blue light illuminated the rough texture of the brickwork of the wall, gave Chan a long shadow behind him as he approached.
There was a figure, slumped into a curled up position overtop the crisscrossing of spellwork lines. They — he, Chan realized as his eyes adjusted to the glare of the glowing circle — seemed to be unconscious, a smear of darkness blotting out some of the circle.
A vampire. He’d suspected, but as he inhaled deeply, his nose told him for certain. Under the scent of human magic that was the trap, other spellwork was evident. Something older, something that tickled at the back of Chan’s brain. A little sweet, like fruit gone soft, a little metallic, like he’d just bitten his tongue.
This was a hunter’s trap, then. Like a snare for a rabbit, left to lie in wait.
Chan glanced up at what he could see of the sky between the buildings on his either side. It was the gradient orange-yellow-blue of impending sunrise. The hunters were letting nature do their dirty work for them.
He knelt, examining the spellwork, the words and symbols unintelligible to him. The vampire did not stir at his proximity. He had overly long dark hair, obscuring most of his face. His hand, limp on the ground, was pale as milk, and pretty. Artist’s hands.
Chan had come into contact with vampires in passing, but more often than not though he simply scented them when they’d already vacated an area. Their two species were not antagonistic, but neither were they friendly. Different kinds of magic, like oil and water, each side leaving the other to face their trials and celebrate their boons alone.
Many of Chan’s kind would leave this creature. It wasn’t their business. It wasn’t a shifter. And vampires caused problems for them, for all the others, with their bloodlust, their cruelty. Smearing the supernatural with their blood stained hands.
But Chan had met awful shifters, violent and prone to rages. Like vampires, their kind were as varied in personality as the humans they’d once been.
Maybe this vampire wasn’t a good one. Maybe it deserved to burn to ash under the sun. But Chan didn’t know. All he knew was he could not leave this creature to such a fate, go about his day, left to forever wonder if he’d let something innocent be destroyed.
He sniffed. The magic of the trap was not reacting to his presence. It did not smell foul, nor hostile to him.
In a move that was either very bold or very stupid, Chan got back up onto his feet and then stepped straight into the circle. It did not immediately darken and deactivate, but the light did dim and flicker, the air warping around Chan, like the spell was unhappy at his intrusion.
The vampire did not move. Chan had wondered if the spell weakening wouldn’t have the vampire regaining consciousness. But nothing happened other than the magic writhing around Chan, pattering at him like a horde of angry moths.
He bent and scooped the vampire up into his arms, finding him icy cold and surprisingly heavy. Dead weight, Chan thought, darkly humorous. It wasn’t anything Chan couldn’t handle with relative ease, though. His own magic sang in his veins.
Stepping out of the circle was harder than stepping in. The vampire felt like he grew heavier as Chan pushed through, a definite feeling of resistance pushing back at Chan, like the air was thickening, made of gelatine.
But then he was out, and just like popping a bubble, the circle of spellwork behind him was snuffed out in a blink. The vampire’s weight suddenly lifted, a little, like he’d become slightly buoyant, but it was just the lack of magic yanking at him.
The sun was over the horizon. Chan could tell, by the way the sky was turning that kind of clear, crisp blue. But it hadn’t risen high enough to peek over the buildings yet. They were still in shade. He didn’t have a lot of time.
When he made his way back out onto the street, it was still empty, his car still idling. He awkwardly opened the back door and crammed the vampire down into the footwell of the backseat as best he could, figuring he might be a little more protected from any beams of sunlight down there. This wasn’t entirely successful: the vampire was fairly tall, limbs long and lanky. Chan wedged his feet in and then closed the door, rushing to get back into the driver’s seat.
Where did one hide a vampire, Chan wondered hysterically as he turned his car around. He supposed he could just drop him down a manhole and pray — it wasn’t like Chan had any vampire friends with a spare, light-tight hidey hole.
“Hey,” he said, as he rolled through a stop sign. Silence, from the back. “Hey, do you have anywhere I can take you?”
No response, but Chan hadn’t really expected one. Vampires were as good as properly, truly dead during daylight hours, and even if that wasn’t the case, the trap had likely weakened him too.
It wasn’t like the vampire would’ve told Chan where his daytime resting place was anyway.
With no other recourse, Chan went to the only place he could think of: home. His home.
It was lucky they’d already been close. It was lucky that Chan was able to, mostly, stay in the shadow of buildings and trees. It was lucky the parking space right in front of his ground floor apartment was still empty from when he’d vacated it about twenty minutes ago.
He unlocked his front door, propping it open before going back to get the vampire out of his car. The parking strip had an awning, and the front door of his apartment was shaded by the balcony of the second floor apartments above. Even with that protection, Chan didn’t let himself dawdle — it wouldn’t do to be seen, or take stupid chances.
Picking the vampire up a second time was no easier; in fact the awkward angle of having to hoist him out of a footwell made it harder. It was good the guy wasn’t injured or partly conscious — Chan banged him around quite a bit as he hauled him inside, using his foot to shut the front door behind them.
Chan’s blinds were all still drawn, but they weren’t exactly light tight, and the sun had definitely come up over the horizon now, golden light shining pinpricks across the floor. Chan dithered in his entryway, eyes landing on his coat closet, and thought, Well, that’ll do.
He yanked open the door — it was cramped, coats and jackets hanging from the short rack. On the floor his shoe collection was piled untidily. There was no time to clear it out, so Chan put the vampire down on top of the uneven, bumpy surface of all his shoes. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do.
Chan breathed heavily once the vampire was curled up in the tiny space, feeling adrenaline buzz through him. He’d done it. There was a vampire in his closet.
A very— beautiful vampire, Chan was steadily realizing as he stared down. The vampire’s hair had fallen away from his face this time, and where before Chan had seen only a sharp jawline, little glimpses of a plush mouth, he now could see the whole of it.
Dark, slanted eyebrows leading into a slim, slightly convex nose. Long lashes against his pale cheeks, and a very full mouth with a pouty bottom lip. Chan wondered at the shape of his eyes, what the vampire would look like when he was awake. In spite of a face that leaned more toward androgyny in its beauty, the vampire’s body was solidly male. Not as muscular as Chan, but tall and lithe, shoulders wide and neck sturdy. He was wearing jeans and a soft, sky blue sweater, which complimented the paleness of his skin, the unnatural texture of it.
A lock of hair was stuck against the vampire’s sharp cheekbone. Chan wanted to brush it back.
Instead, he got to his feet and shut the door.
Chan found his breath was shaky in his chest. He tried to tell himself it was from the fading adrenaline. He stared at the closed closet door, slowly trying to— think through the logistics of this. The living room window faced south. It wouldn’t get any direct sunlight through it, but Chan didn’t want to take any chances. He pulled the little throw blanket off the sofa, exposing the cracked leather, and brought it over to the closet. Carefully, he tucked it into the gap at the bottom, where the door didn’t quite meet the imitation-wood flooring.
It was the best he could do.
Outside, birds were chirping, and Chan could hear the pipes groaning as the person who lived above him turned their shower on. He checked his watch — 06:08 AM.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and with a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Changbin.
It rang, and rang, which made sense, given the circumstances, but Changbin eventually picked up with a gruff, “What.”
“Hey,” Chan said, shoving his hand through his hair and leaning his forehead against the heel of his palm. “I’m sorry, I know you closed last night, but I’m just letting you know I’m late this morning.”
“Everything okay?” Changbin asked, voice rough with sleep but still concerned, rather than angry. Chan was seldom late to anything.
“Uhm, I— yeah? I uh.” Chan licked his lips, nervous and feeling silly, stupid. “There’s a vampire in my closet.”
There were a few beats of silence, on the other end of the line, nothing but the faint staticky crackle of the connection. “There’s a what in your where?” Changbin finally asked.
“A vampire in my closet,” Chan repeated, voice going high at the end with repressed, hysterical laughter. “I was driving to the gym and saw him caught in a hunter trap. So I, uh. Stopped. And brought him home.”
“Why,” Changbin said, flat and low.
Chan dropped his hand from his hair, likely standing on end now, curls unruly. He braced that hand on his hip. “I mean I couldn’t leave him, Changbin, he would have fried,” Chan said. Changbin wasn’t as much one for charity cases like Chan, but he was still a good guy, and would offer help when and where he could. Chan didn’t think Changbin would have left the vampire there either.
Another silence, longer this time. “What does he look like,” Changbin asked, still in that flat, unimpressed tone.
Chan pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it in confusion, like he might be able to see Changbin’s face, or vice versa. “Huh?” he said, bringing it back to his ear.
“Is he pretty,” Changbin said, and it clicked for Chan, his cheeks heating.
“No!” he said, automatic, and then, “well, I mean, yes, but that isn’t why—”
Changbin was already heaving out the sigh of the greatly burdened. “Whatever, just get to the gym. You’ll be opening a little late but it was clean when I left, because I’m not Jisung and I actually tidy up before I go.”
“Jisung can’t lift the weights off the ground,” Chan said morosely, mostly out of habit. It wasn’t fun to tease Jisung when he wasn’t in earshot to hear it though.
“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin said, the words cracking around a yawn. “Jisung will be in at two, okay? Don’t pick up any pixies on the way in.”
He hung up, and Chan pouted down at his phone screen.
——
Hyunjin, shockingly, came into consciousness.
It was slow, strange for his kind. Vampires were compelled to sleep when the sun came up, like even when they were cloistered underground, it was a physical thing bearing down upon them. But when it set, that compulsion winked out, a quick snap. Hyunjin was used to being— dead to the world, or totally lucid.
This felt like something he barely remembered, something human. This sticky lethargy, like his sleep-state was clinging to him. A beetle caught in amber. He was so weak.
But he was alive. In a manner of speaking. When he managed to rouse himself into something resembling wakefulness, he felt a muted kind of surprise. He hadn’t burned.
Any relief was short-lived. He was curled up, shoved into a cramped space, enclosed. His vision swum as he opened his eyes: his usual ability to see in the darkness had been— muted. The trap had drained him of energy, and he couldn’t replenish it on his own. He needed blood. He wasn’t likely to get any in the near future.
The hunters had come back for him, he assumed as he shifted and his hip bone ground into something lumpy and unpleasant. They must have come to collect him after he’d fallen unconscious. Would they cut him up, he wondered, or would they torture him to try and get him to give up others of his kind.
He worked to push himself up into a sitting position, and found, to his surprise, that his hands were unbound. He was weak enough that they wouldn’t have even needed silver cuffs — simple rope would have sufficed, and there wasn’t even that. As he rose, something brushed against his head, his face. It felt like— fabric.
His hand spasmed beneath him, where it was braced on the lumpy ground. He felt around for a moment, fighting through the fog of his mind, and realized what he’d been laying on were a bunch of shoes.
A closet? he thought, blurry and confused.
For the first time since he woke up, he inhaled. Deep and slow, his eyes going half-lidded. It smelled— like so much in here. The chemical, artificial scent of laundry detergent mixed with a musky, damp kind of scent. Canine. Like running his hands through the fur of an animal that had frolicked through a creek. Those were the strongest smells, but there was also the smell of— skin, sunlight. A human. Male. And then there was greenery. The lush, leafy scent of magic mixing with a real forest scent, moss and pine and earth. Rich and life giving.
There was no metallic, acrid smell of spelled silver. No bloodscent. No ashes or dusty chalk.
Maybe it hadn’t been hunters after all.
Unused to being so unable to see in the darkness, Hyunjin felt around his surroundings, the smooth painted wood of what he thought must be the door. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, like his hands were only halfway tuned in to what his brain was asking of them.
It wasn’t quiet. His wrist banged off the door frame as he searched for a handle. Before he was able to find it, the door swung open, and bright, piercing light had him squeezing his eyes shut and recoiling.
It did not burn. A masculine voice said, “Ah, shit, sorry.”
The insides of Hyunjin’s lids were orange with the light shining through, and then very suddenly it dimmed. He squinted his eyes open, found the room significantly darker now, a single table lamp lit. Enough for him to see by in this stunted state, without being painfully overbright.
He was in a closet — a coat closet. The room beyond was a small, neatly furnished living room, with a boxy black leather couch and large flatscreen television.
Legs came into his vision, partly blocking his perusal. He followed them up to a sturdy torso, and then the face of a young man. “Hey, hi,” the man said, smiling softly. His voice was low and gentle, caring, soothing. Like Hyunjin was a rain-drenched kitten and not a fucking vampire. “You okay?”
The man had a heartbeat. It was strong, steady. Hyunjin leaned forward and sniffed surreptitiously. The magic scent was stronger, so was the— animal scent, the sunlight scent.
“You’re a shifter,” Hyunjin said, the words indistinct around the edges, his voice scratchy. He was so thirsty.
The man knelt in front of him, the corners of his mouth still upturned, brows quirked. “Yeah, I’m a wolf,” he said. “My name’s Chan. Can I ask yours?”
He was handsome. His nose was strong and a little broad, mouth wide. The shirt he was wearing had short sleeves and his arms were all corded muscle. Heat radiated off him. It wasn’t— the same allure a human had. Thrumming, buzzing things humans were, their bodies calling out to Hyunjin like siren song. A thread in the night.
This man — Chan — was more solid than that. A rock, an anchor. Hyunjin’s eyeteeth itched.
“Hyunjin,” he murmured. “Did you— get me out of that trap?”
“I did,” Chan said, smiling again, though there was a hint of worry in his warm brown eyes. “I don’t know who set it. I was on my way to work and could feel the magic. You were— totally knocked out. So I picked you up and brought you home.” His expression turned a little sheepish. “Sorry for stuffing you in the closet — it was the only light-tight space I had on such short notice.”
Hyunjin stared at him. “You saved me,” he whispered. “Why.”
The smile fell totally off Chan’s face. “You would have burned,” he said. “How could I have left you there when you would have died?”
It was not unusual for Hyunjin to be lost for words — he was someone who felt emotions so very strongly, but seldom could formulate the words to do his feelings or thoughts any real justice. So it was now.
This man did not know him. This man owed him nothing. Shifters, while often somewhat shunned by society, were legal, allowed to exist, to have standing amongst the world. His kind were not. His kind were to be destroyed on sight. Blood hungry, monstrous. A shifter might not have the same level of animosity towards vampires that the usual human would, but there was an expected kind of— ambivalence, at the very least.
Hyunjin sunk his senses down, feeling for the magic in himself, a constant hum. Quieter now, than usual. Weak and fluttery like a butterfly’s wings. But there all the same.
Chan was telling the truth. Hyunjin could feel it in himself, though he had to focus hard. Life debt. A tie, a pull. Hyunjin was bound to Chan by the very magic within him. He would have to repay this.
“I thought when the sun went down you’d be good as new,” Chan was saying. Hyunjin, who’d closed his eyes without realizing it, opened them again. Chan was frowning, his gaze darting across Hyunjin’s somewhat floppy posture. “You seem— unwell.”
“The trap stole much of my energy,” Hyunjin mumbled. “I will need to feed to replenish myself.”
He needed to call Minho. His phone— was hopefully still in his pocket. He could not hunt like this — he was not sure he would even be able to walk.
“There are— others I may call on to help me,” he continued, the words slurring together. Chan’s eyebrows drew down. He was growing indistinct around the edges, Hyunjin’s vision doubling. “Thank you, I— I will repay—”
“Whoa,” Chan said, his hands reaching out quickly to grasp Hyunjin’s shoulders when Hyunjin swayed heavily. He was warm, hot. The heat of his palms sunk through the material of Hyunjin’s sweater. He smelled like flesh, like life. Hyunjin’s canines elongated to delicate points, saliva flooding his mouth.
Without any thought, Hyunjin’s hands came up to weakly grip at the front of Chan’s shirt, hooking his nails into the fabric. Thirsty, he was so thirsty.
“Easy,” Chan was saying, soothing. “Easy, easy.”
Hyunjin’s head lolled a little. “Please,” he whispered, not even sure what he was asking for.
“I can call— whoever you need,” Chan said, as Hyunjin fought to focus on the words. “Or I can give you blood. Do you want that? You can feed on me.”
Why would you let me do that, Hyunjin thought, but didn’t have the energy to say. He wanted to accept so badly. But he forced himself to shake his head, mumbling, “Life debt.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Chan said, voice coming as if from far away. “Everything I’ve done was of my own free will.”
That wasn’t how it worked. That wasn’t how anything worked.
The next thing Hyunjin knew, he was being lifted, Chan making a slight grunting noise over the exertion of it. Such a sound would have had Hyunjin’s hackles playfully raising if he was lucid, but right now it didn’t even register. Chan got him settled, wobbly as a newborn deer, on his feet for the barest moment, before he was wrapping an arm around Hyunjin’s waist, putting a hand on the back of Hyunjin’s thigh. Pulling Hyunjin up into his arms. It was an awkward way to be carried, but they weren’t going far. Chan sat on the couch, Hyunjin in an ungainly kind of sprawl across his lap.
Hyunjin’s face had been tucked into the juncture of where Chan’s neck met his shoulder. This was a particular kind of torture. There was so much saliva in his mouth that he was leaving little smears on Chan’s skin.
No, he thought, the points of his teeth pricking into his own bottom lip. He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until Chan made a gentle, crooning sound at him, running his hand over the back of Hyunjin’s head. “It’s okay,” he rumbled. “I want you to. It’s okay. Take what you need.”
The worst part was he meant it. Hyunjin could— take. He felt it, felt the willingness of the body underneath his, smelled it in Chan’s scent.
Hyunjin wasn’t used to living creatures not flinching from him. Even professional feeders could get a little uneasy sometimes. Chan was either very brave or very foolish. Maybe shifters didn’t have the same kind of instincts humans had, when it came to vampires. Maybe Chan was just so affable he didn’t care if his guest murdered him.
Hyunjin poked his tongue out, and at the first taste of sweat, he felt his entire mind go utterly blank. He licked along Chan’s neck, a broad stroke with the flat of his tongue. He tasted of salt, of heat, of sunlight. Hyunjin moaned thickly, mindless, not usually so easily lost.
Then he bit, Chan’s firm flesh giving a delicious beat of resistance before yielding to the razor sharpness of Hyunjin’s fangs. Chan hissed, his head falling back against the couch cushion, and the first tang of blood worked its way around where Hyunjin’s fangs were still pressed deep into the wounds he had made.
He pulled back a little, and without his fangs there to act as stoppers, the blood welled out, thick and as hot as Chan’s skin, hotter. Metallic and buzzing with magic. Hyunjin squirmed, pressing closer, his hands suddenly capable of renewed strength. Almost frantically, he shifted positions, going from sitting across Chan’s lap to straddling him, pinning Chan down against the couch cushions with his body.
He bit again when the blood slowed sooner than usual, deep and unkind, and Chan arched under him, giving a low groan. Hyunjin sucked hard, swallowed heavy mouthful upon mouthful. He was— thoughtless, a creature of base instinct. Savage. He’d been taught better than this.
His nails scraped over Chan’s scalp— when had he moved his hand there, he didn’t know. His fingers tangled in Chan’s curls, held him fast, head tilted so Hyunjin could ravage the side of his neck. Chan breathed like an animal in pain, pinned and desperate.
I’m sorry, Hyunjin wanted to say, forgive me, I’m sorry.
If Chan had been human, Hyunjin would have killed him. Or very close to it. As it was, Chan’s heartbeat slowed some, but not too much, and his blood flowed readily, the heat of him never wavering. Hyunjin drank until the desperation faded off, until he felt whole again.
His hands, one still in Chan’s hair, one clutched to his shoulder, both went lax. Hyunjin stopped sucking, shifting to gentle licking. An apology. He felt as the wounds steadily shrunk and vanished under his tongue. That was new, strange.
Chan was shaking. Hyunjin felt an acute kind of guilt, right up until he shifted a little and his hips ground down into Chan’s, and he realized Chan was hard.
“Ah?” Hyunjin said, sitting back, gaze dropping down between their bodies. His face felt— wet. He was probably a horror of blood.
Chan grabbed his hips, slid Hyunjin back easily so Hyunjin was sitting on his thighs. Like this, the length of his stiff cock was very visible beneath his track pants. But Hyunjin supposed that was the price to be paid if Chan didn’t want Hyunjin actively sitting on it.
“Sorry,” Chan said, and when Hyunjin looked at his face, he found Chan blushing, a light sheen of sweat across his forehead. How did he have any blood left to be blushing with. How did he have enough left for that impressive erection, now that Hyunjin thought about it.
Hyunjin shook his head, slow and dazed. Not from a lack of energy like before, but because he was blood drunk. Floaty and so very warm. The life and magic was suffusing through Hyunjin’s body, tingly and pleasant. “It happens a lot,” he said, which was true enough. Most feeders tended to enjoy the process. But Hyunjin usually— put effort forth to ensure that. He was usually gentler. He usually used glamour.
“Yeah, I bet,” Chan said, a thick rasp to his voice that sent a little jolt of pleasure along Hyunjin’s spine. He was looking at Hyunjin with— want, his pupils large in his pretty eyes.
Fuck it, Hyunjin thought. It had been a while, and humans had that saying, one he couldn’t quite remember right now — something about a brush with death. Something about remembering how to feel alive.
With renewed deftness and dexterity, Hyunjin delved both hands past the elastic waistband of Chan’s sweatpants and boxers. Chan’s whole body jerked, his mouth falling open around an incoherent noise of surprise as Hyunjin used one hand to yank his waistband down, the other curling around the frankly ridiculous appendage Chan called a cock.
It was damp at the tip already, flushed a pretty red. Hyunjin watched as it twitched in the shock of the cool air. Or maybe it was because of Hyunjin’s loose touch, warm but probably cool against the feverish warmth of him.
Chan’s hands had gone from Hyunjin’s hips to instead grip the couch cushion they were sitting on. Hyunjin thought there might be claws involved. He wouldn’t have minded.
“You don’t have to,” Chan said weakly. He was squirming, very slight little rolls of his hips like he couldn’t help himself. His eyes weren’t brown anymore. They’d gone a kind of honey gold. His canines looked a bit sharp.
Hyunjin smiled, beatific and bloody. “Oh, trust me,” he said, tightening his hold just a little, “no one can force me to do anything I don’t want to do.”
Then he leaned forward and spit onto the head of Chan’s cock, his saliva streaked with the red of Chan’s blood. He began a rhythm, a little too dry at first but that quickly wasn’t an issue — Chan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his cock positively dripped with precome. Hyunjin wondered if he was always this easy, or if it was because of the pain of the bite, the endorphins. Maybe it was just the fact that Hyunjin was a vampire.
The column of Chan’s neck was so pretty as his head tipped back. Hyunjin’s fangs had never retracted. He sped up his movements, skin on skin gliding easily now. He had to use two hands. He didn’t think he’d ever had to use two hands. He had big fucking hands.
“I’m gonna come,” Chan gasped out, a strange, gravel rasp to his voice. A doubled voice. Chan’s own, and then a second, rough and layered over it, like he had two sets of vocal chords. “God, fuck—”
Hyunjin took a hand off Chan’s cock to instead lift the hem of Chan’s shirt up, baring his stomach, his chest. He was sculpted, muscles stark and made more defined by the way Chan was tensed right now. Hyunjin corkscrewed his other hand around the head of Chan’s cock, those reddened, sensitive glans, and then Chan made good on his threat and came. He groaned through it, with his human lungs, his human voice, while a growl rumbled deeper the whole time.
Come landed across Chan’s stomach, streaked in pale lines. Hyunjin gentled his touch, slowed, until the way Chan’s cock was twitching had stopped.
Interesting. Different. Hyunjin had never fucked a shifter before. He’d never had much interest. He found himself a little more curious now.
Chan’s breathing was steadying. The shine of sweat, previously limited to his forehead and temples, had spread, a thin sheen across his neck and stomach. His mouth— he’d been biting his lower lip. It was swollen and red. His eyes were back to being dark, rich brown. He was blinking slowly, lashes clumped together like he’d cried a little. Cute, Hyunjin thought.
He touched Chan’s stomach lightly, those refined muscles, and Chan twitched under his hand a bit. Hyunjin looked at him through his lashes. “May I?” he asked, nails scratching lightly.
“Huh?” Chan asked, fucked silly. Very cute, Hyunjin decided. Like a puppy. Chan looked down at Hyunjin’s idle, tracing hand, and then his own come, and said, “Oh! I mean, yeah?”
Hyunjin swiped his fingers through the come on Chan’s skin, gathering it up, and then promptly shoved those fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. It wasn’t blood, but it was— adjacent.
He didn’t bother making a show of it, wasn’t trying to be sexy, but Chan’s cock gave a decided twitch. “Does that— do anything for you?” Chan asked, clearly not meaning the question in a sexual way.
Hyunjin swallowed, letting his fingers fall from his mouth. “A very little,” he said. He wiped at Chan’s chest a few more times, bringing his fingers back up to his mouth to lick them clean, like a person trying to get the last traces of syrup off a breakfast plate.
Chan watched, with a dreamy kind of rapt attention. “I’ve never been with a vampire before,” he said. A pause, as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean, and then dry, Chan still watching on. More quietly, he added, “I’ve never been with someone so beautiful before either.”
Hyunjin froze. He wasn’t capable of blushing anymore, but if he were, he would have. He was very well aware of what he looked like. In this second life of his, his looks had been a definite boon, a weapon in some respects. But he wasn’t used to receiving compliments with such— soft ardentness.
In his human life, he’d been a romantic. Maybe somewhere deep down he still was.
He didn’t know what to say. Thank you, maybe, would have sufficed. He didn’t feel like indulging in coquettish flirting, which was one of his favorite knives to wield. It felt wrong here. Chan was too— real. This wasn’t a place for the sort of games Hyunjin was used to.
Mostly he wanted to ask how Chan had survived until his twenties while still being so very foolish, so very soft.
Chan didn’t seem put off by his lack of response. He tucked his damp cock away, wincing a little at the overstimulation. Then he laughed, a nervous, embarrassed kind of sound. “Guess we’re even now, huh?”
Hyunjin slid back, off of his lap and back onto his feet. He felt— normal, his normal. Strong and capable. He could see into the shadows of the room. He ran a hand through his hair, stringy and a little gritty from his laying first on pavement, then on the floor of a closet. “You’ve saved my life twice over,” he said. “I could fuck you every day until you die and it wouldn’t even the scales. That isn’t how this works.”
Chan got to his feet, unsteady for the barest moment before he stabilized. It was a weakness of the legs borne from his orgasm, Hyunjin thought, rather than because of the blood loss. He must have already healed, which was— good. His expression was very somber. “I’m not keeping track,” he said. “I couldn’t have left you there, it was my own conscience. I would have felt guilty. You don’t owe me.”
Hyunjin bit back a sigh. There was no point arguing. It didn’t matter that Chan wouldn’t hold Hyunjin accountable — the magic in Hyunjin’s very marrow did. He could feel it.
And even if it didn’t, Hyunjin’s honor code would have demanded it anyway.
“I have to go,” Hyunjin said, and watched as Chan’s stupid puppy eyes got even more puppyish with quickly smothered sadness. “My maker probably was able to feel my pain, my distress. I have to let him know I am alright.” He inclined his head. Chan was shorter than him by several inches, but their builds were so different it felt silly to compare. “If you’re ever in dire trouble— I’ll know. I’ll come. Things would be easier if you reached out to me, in such a circumstance.”
Chan smiled, that big smile. He had dimples. He was catastrophically handsome. Minho would laugh at Hyunjin, if he saw Chan. Very much Hyunjin’s type. Very cliche of him.
“All things considered, my life is pretty quiet,” Chan said, laughing a little. It made Hyunjin smile in turn, the curve of his lips shockingly shy. It had been decades since Hyunjin felt shy. “But uh, sure. If I’m ever in mortal peril, I’ll wish for you.”
Hyunjin — unsure what exactly was wrong with him tonight — leaned down and kissed the pretty, plush curve of Chan’s mouth. “Thank you again,” he murmured when he pulled away, Chan wide eyed and flushed. “You saved my life. I won’t forget it.”
——
Despite being a shifter, Chan’s life was usually pretty quiet. He’d managed to avoid the registrars and since he was off the books he didn’t have to deal with the fallout — no fanatics harassing him at home, or coming to protest his existence at the gym. The list of ridiculous things that had happened to him in life was surprisingly short. Aside from being bitten by a were-racoon when he was sixteen on a family camping trip, and the subsequent rabies shot, nothing eventful had ever happened to him.
Even Changbin had more stories than Chan did, but Changbin spent a lot of his full moons outside. Every once in a while Chan would join him, but for the most part, he spent full moon nights locked in his own apartment, padding around and shedding all over his own furniture. Changbin sometimes insisted Chan should enjoy his other form more but that one incident with the skunk did not, exactly, persuade Chan that being outside all night was worth the trouble. Changbin had smelled for weeks, and Jisung had laughed and gagged in equal turns.
So, no, Chan’s life was blessedly normal, in spite of his supernatural status. Stumbling across a vampire in trouble was a shocking and unusual turn for him. And no one could blame him, for assuming that he’d ever have need for Hyunjin to return the favor.
He was wrong, but, well. No one could blame him, at least.
Even with late summer lengthening the days, it was always still dark out when it was time to close up the gym. Tonight, as Chan tidied up the weight plates left tossed around, he was alone. This was not always the case — sometimes he had to shoo customers out when it was time to lock the doors. Every once in a while Changbin made noises about just biting the bullet and keeping the gym open 24 hours, but Chan was insistent that if they did that, they’d need to hire a fourth person at the very least. He was a workaholic, not a fucking masochist.
Earlier, when Chan had first come in for his shift, he’d been met with a scowling Changbin, hands on his hips as he’d tugged Chan aside. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts,” he’d hissed angrily. “You could have been dead, and I couldn’t even call the cops since your little guest would get you landed in jail— why do you have that look on your face.”
Chan had blinked, slow, brain still sluggish. He’d slept like a rock, but he’d been floaty all day. “What look?” he’d asked.
“Fuck, did he glamour you?” Changbin had asked, waving a hand in front of Chan’s face. “Are you a thing-thrall now—”
“He fed on me and then gave me a handjob,” Chan had said, more dreamily than he’d intended. But no one could judge him, surely. He was unable to forget the way Hyunjin’s mouth had prettily shone with his own blood, redness clinging to that plush bottom lip. “Changbin, he is so pretty.”
Changbin had stared at him, his upper lip pulled into something like a snarl, something like the way Jisung had looked every time he’d gotten a whiff of skunk. “You know what, I’m going home,” he’d said, turning abruptly to leave.
Just as well, Chan might’ve started going into detail, because he was too happy to contain it. Later, he’d have been embarrassed, but in that moment, he’d just felt— giddy. Likely a leftover endorphin kind of thing.
His good mood had persisted all day, and so it was now, as he locked up the gym, closing the reinforced glass double doors. He’d turned the lights off inside the building, but left the signage on. Around the shopping square, they were the last business open, and one of the few that left their sign lights on all night. Across the large parking lot, the large chain grocery store also had their lights on, but they closed an hour earlier than the gym. It was quiet, his car the last in the lot.
His sight in the dark wasn’t as good when he wasn’t in wolf form. Neither was his sense of smell. There was nothing more than a prickle of unease to warn him. He’d been turning the keys in the door and then suddenly he stopped, leaping backwards to take cover behind one of the brick pillars that supported the roof’s overhang. There was the sound of a shot, and the pillar at Chan’s back vibrated with the impact.
Someone swore. Chan let his shift take hold, just enough to sharpen his senses. Immediately things were louder: the distant motorway, the leaves rustling in the trees, the sound of rubber shoe soles shifting across pavement. His surroundings ticked up in brightness. And he could smell human sweat, gun powder. Silver.
His heart was already pounding. He had nowhere to run.
Then someone was whistling, like you would to call a dog to heel. “Come on out, doggy, don’t you want to play?” a male voice taunted. Another snickered. So there were at least two. “Or are you going to make us run you down?”
Chan’s hands, braced against the pillar, shook lightly. “I’m unarmed,” he called out. He contemplated texting Changbin, or Jisung, just to let them know what was going on. So that when he went missing, there was some kind of trail.
He wasn’t sure they wouldn’t come running though. He didn’t want to risk that. He didn’t want to risk them.
“Your kind are never unarmed,” a different male voice said.
Chan’s gums itched, his teeth pressing, wanting to elongate into something sharp. His nails scratched at the brickwork. “I’m not a vampire,” he said. “Hunting my kind is illegal.”
He could hear footsteps — they were fanning out. They must have been hiding behind his car before. Waiting for him. It was only a matter of time before one of them circled around far enough to have him in sight.
“You forfeited any rights the moment you helped that bloodsucker,” the first voice said.
Movement, in Chan’s peripheral. He looked to the right and saw one of the hunters had finally come around enough to see him. He was holding a silver gun, engraved with runes. Chan froze.
“Hands in the air, dog,” the hunter said, gesturing shortly with the barrel of the gun. “And then come out into the open.”
Chan obeyed, slowly raising his hands, showing they were empty. He’d survive being shot — he’d survive being shot a lot, so long as they didn’t completely eviscerate his head or heart. But he didn’t relish the idea of being riddled with bullet holes, and he had no idea what kind of spellwork that gun had on it.
When he stepped carefully out from behind the pillar, he saw that there were five hunters, three men and two women. Only two of them had guns. Of the other three, two had knives, long, serrated things — and one had a crossbow, like this was the fucking fifteen hundreds. Chan supposed he didn’t want to get shot with a bolt any more than he wanted to get hit with a bullet though.
Every projectile weapon was aimed at Chan’s chest. His heart was racing, his head feeling light, dizzy. Even if he started screaming, there was no one around to hear.
“Where is the vampire you stole from us,” one of the women said, her gun held steady.
It clicked, then. Not that the knowledge would do him any good.
He wondered if he should lie. The instinct to play dumb was strong. But these people had been willing to kill a vampire — and had likely already killed others. Wasting their time would not end well for him.
“I don’t know,” he said, because it was the truth. “I brought him back to my home and then when he recovered, he left.”
The hunters shifted slightly, weight moving from one foot to another, glances darting to the side. They were not happy — brows drew down into scowls, mouths pressed into thin lines.
And then there was a twang, and the crossbow bolt was lodged into Chan’s thigh.
He screamed, immediately dropping to the pavement. He grabbed at his leg, fingers frantically reaching for the bolt to rip it out, but it was hot to the touch, burning. The noises coming out of his throat were part animal, and completely involuntary.
“Do you want to change your answer?” the man with the gun asked, eyes bright as he watched Chan squirm in pain. Chan snarled at him, his teeth too long to properly speak, and the man laughed. “Hit him with another.”
No, Chan thought, and then there was— a blur, displaced air wafting across Chan, smelling of fruit and iron. And then the man with the gun suddenly didn’t have a head.
Someone screamed, all the hunters bursting into movement. There was a bright flash of blue light, hot and buzzy, smelling of magic, of a storm. Chan let go of his panic, his fear, let his instincts take over, and felt every bone in his body immediately begin to warp, his joints parting and then snapping back together. He arched on the pavement, fur rippling across his naked flesh as he lost his fingers in favor of paws, his face elongating, every feature changing.
By the time he was a full wolf it hadn’t been even a minute. He was still in pain, the bolt lodged in his leg. There was a body next to his on the asphalt now, ripped open and bleeding. He rolled away, struggling out of the confines of his human clothes and limping toward the fight.
The hunters were clearly using amulets and charms, and one of them even seemed to have some sorcery training. Hyunjin circled them, his dark eyes wide and wild in his face, just as animal as Chan’s but in a different way. He had blood all over the bottom half of his face, smeared down his neck. In his left hand was one of the hunter’s knives. bloodied, and his right hand was— injured, burned, dangling at his side.
He didn’t look afraid. He looked terrifying.
Chan shot forward, ignoring the ripping, searing pain in his leg to leap at one of the two remaining hunters. He got the man around the back of the neck, his teeth sinking into flesh, grinding down on the bones of his spine. The man cried out in shock and pain, the two of them tumbling down onto the ground. Chan began to shake his head back and forth, ripping at the man’s flesh, while the hunter flailed blindly back at him with the knife in his hand. Chan squeezed his eyes shut to protect them as the knife sliced across his skull, poking into his neck.
There was another burst of light, this one smelling more acrid, burning. The hunter facing off with Hyunjin was skilled in spellwork, her chanting cries uneven but never faltering— until she began to scream, high and ragged. That cut off sharply, the ensuing silence almost seeming to echo with its suddenness. Abruptly, the only sounds in the night were the wind rustling the trees, Chan’s rapid breathing, and struggling, shifting weight of the man he was still desperately holding down.
“You can let go now, Chan,” Hyunjin’s voice said, calm and cool, like clear spring water over smooth stones. Chan— didn’t, his jaw locked tight. There was more struggling for the barest moment, and then a meaty, dull kind of thump. The hunter fell lax in Chan’s grip.
Chan breathed fast and sharp through his nose, his long snout. His eyes were still clamped shut. Across his head and face, the cuts from the knife stung unpleasantly, and more than that, they burned and itched. There was some kind of poison, a tincture maybe, on the hunters’ weaponry that kept him from healing.
Touch, cool and gentle, at the outer corner of Chan’s eye. The smell of overripe fruit was thick, almost as strong as the bloodscent. “Chan,” Hyunjin said, “let go.”
Chan did. The taste of blood in his mouth wasn’t as gross as it maybe should have been. He stumbled back, his left hind leg unable to bear any weight. He let his eyes open, barely taking in the carnage, the blood and viscera, before he let himself flop down onto the asphalt. Then, all he could see was the sky, the faint stars through the city pollution.
“Chan,” Hyunjin said, his voice— echoing around the edges, muffled, as Chan began to change back into his human form. It wasn’t as easy as his shift into his wolf body, driven by panic. His flesh and bones folded and unfolded, like origami, peeling and changing until he was himself again.
Tears clouded his vision, made it swim. His ears rung. Hyunjin was above him, the gym’s sign illuminating the side of his perfect face. He looked worried. “Chan,” he said again, again.
“Is my name all you can say,” Chan said, breathless and tight. His whole thigh was burning, aching. He touched the bolt with the tip of his fingers and even that slight disturbance had pain like lightning shooting up from the wound. He snatched his hand back and choked out, “Fuck.”
Hyunjin— was vampire strong, something Chan had maybe forgotten. Before he could say anything about it, Hyunjin had lifted him fully off the ground, a careful hold that barely jostled Chan’s leg.
“Wha—” Chan began, but then they were in front of the gym doors, Hyunjin turning the keys that were still lodged into the lock. And then they were inside the darkened main room, and then the dim changing rooms. Blink, blink, blink. Chan, belatedly, felt a bit motion sick.
Hyunjin laid him down on one of the narrow benches, Chan balanced a little precariously. The familiar lockers loomed around them, the familiar scent as calming as anything could be right now.
“Stay still,” Hyunjin said, splaying one of his large hands across Chan’s thigh, pinning him down.
Chan knew what he was about to do, dread striking cold through his gut. “No—”
Hyunjin grabbed the bolt, a pained expression flickering across his features for a single second before he ripped the bolt right out of Chan’s thigh.
The back of Chan’s head hit the wooden bench hard as he arched, screaming. There was the light, clattering sound of the bolt hitting the concrete flooring, as Hyunjin presumably tossed it aside. Chan couldn’t look to check right now. He was breathing heavily and trying to get himself under control, the scent of his own pain and fear unpleasant.
He sensed rather than heard Hyunjin moving around. There was water, suddenly, trickling cool and welcome over the wound on his thigh, chasing the burn away. Chan cracked an eye open and lifted his head to see Hyunjin had found a water bottle. His hand was gentle as he tugged at Chan’s skin lightly, pulling the wound wider so he could flush it out.
“You saved me,” Chan said.
Hyunjin looked at his face, movements pausing. “Of course,” he said. He resumed cleaning Chan’s stupid fucking arrow wound with the water, and then a few moments later, leaned forward and licked across it. Chan twitched, heat coming to his face, but Hyunjin was already sitting back on his haunches. “The poison is gone. Your wound should begin to heal now.”
“Right,” Chan said numbly. Hyunjin moved so he was on his knees up by Chan’s head. His free hand guided Chan’s head back so it was resting on the bench. He poured water over the cuts on Chan’s scalp, the gash burning across his forehead. With careful, gentle touches of his fingertips, he brushed water and blood off Chan’s skin.
“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin murmured. He wasn’t looking Chan in the eyes. Chan had to work to focus on his words, to rouse himself. The touch of Hyunjin’s hands was so soothing after the sharpness of the pain, the relief of it had almost sent Chan into a trance. “They attacked you because of me.”
Chan, dazedly, shook his head a little. Hyunjin graced him with a slight, sad smile. The blood on his skin was drying, growing tacky. He apparently noticed it just as Chan did, because he sat back on his haunches and tipped his head back, pouring the remainder of the water out over his own face. It rinsed off the worst of the blood, the water running pink down over his throat. He swiped at the mess with his hands, wiping them off in turn over his dark green hoodie.
His hair was clean. Shining and black in the dimness, fluffier than last night. Blood pooled in the cuticles of his nails. His right hand was all healed.
Chan touched his shoulder with fingers that felt— far away. “Aren’t you going to lick my forehead,” he asked when Hyunjin’s intense gaze landed on his face again. “To make sure the poison is gone.”
“It’s gone,” Hyunjin said, mouth curved into something more like a real smile than the last. He leaned forward anyway, but instead of licking at the half-healed wound, he just pressed a light kiss there. And then he paused, whispering, “I felt your fear.” The breath of his words fluttered across Chan’s torn skin. “I heard your cries. I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time.”
Chan, quite suddenly, felt his nakedness very keenly. Being a shifter meant he wasn’t particularly self conscious of his body, but right now the air whispering across all his bare flesh felt like a torment. He squirmed, tipping his face up so his nose bumped into Hyunjin’s soft, cool cheek. “Kiss me,” he whispered, and shockingly, Hyunjin did.
He tasted like blood. But so did Chan.
Hyunjin was touching him, fingertips ghosting across Chan’s bare chest. Chan turned, rolling over, off the bench, and caught himself with something akin to his usual grace. The whole time he didn’t stop kissing Hyunjin, open mouthed and messy, licking at all traces of copper on Hyunjin’s tongue. Hyunjin’s nails dug into the meat of Chan’s shoulders, clutching him close against his clothed body.
“How are you doing this to me,” Hyunjin whispered against Chan’s mouth, broken and a little lost.
Chan shook his head, mindless. He didn’t know, he didn’t understand. What was he doing to Hyunjin. What was Hyunjin doing to him. He’d blame the glamour, but magic such as that would have been obvious to Chan’s senses. And it was absent here.
He pushed forward until Hyunjin leaned back, using his hold on Chan as leverage so he didn’t simply tumble down onto the floor. Then he was under Chan, his pretty long hair fanned out around his head on the concrete. He stared up at Chan, still smeared with traces of blood, his mouth swollen from Chan’s kisses.
Chan felt feral at the sight of him. You saved me. This lovely creature. “Can I—” he gasped out.
And Hyunjin said, “Yes.”
——
Hyunjin was blood drunk. He was blood drunk and laying on the concrete floor of a human gym, which smelled of bleach and sweat. He could not bring himself to care.
Vain as he could be sometimes, even Hyunjin had to admit he could be a bit high maintenance. He liked to be wooed, he liked soft clothes and plush beds. He liked shiny earrings and expensive paintings. It wasn’t that he was a snob, he just liked to be valued, treated well. Minho was prone to teasing him about it, but Hyunjin wasn’t the one who took a self-care bubble bath damn near every night. Minho’s carbon footprint upon this planet was only topped by people who owned private jets.
Later, if Hyunjin told him about this, Minho would likely pretend to keel over from shock. Maybe he would leave out the concrete floor part.
Said concrete scratched at the bare skin of his back, little wounds that immediately healed. His hoodie and shirt had been tossed— somewhere. He’d not paid any attention, too busy nipping at the unmarked skin of Chan’s neck. He squirmed against the sturdy weight of Chan atop him, already naked and so very warm. Shifters ran hotter than humans, Hyunjin knew. He could tick up his own body temperature to match, but he was enjoying the sensation of the warmth.
“So beautiful,” Chan was mumbling against Hyunjin’s chest, teeth scraping against Hyunjin’s nipples. “So perfect.”
Hyunjin arched a little, just to feel the stretch. He preened under the praise. Chan had a lovely body, muscular and fit. Hyunjin ran his hands over Chan’s back, fingers splayed, feeling the shift of muscles under his touch. “Do you want me to be warmer?” he asked. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his hands.
Chan shook his head, sitting up and grabbing at Hyunjin’s hand. He pressed a kiss to Hyunjin’s palm, eyes closing. “No,” he murmured. “I like that you’re colder than me, it’s a relief. I always run so warm.”
Hyunjin cupped his cheek. The words struck at him, causing heat and an iciness in turn to swirl through his gut. He was embarrassed. He was self-conscious. Chan was too real. Hyunjin couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this with someone and there’d been no added— layers. Self interest and politics, power and ambition. Chan wasn’t a part of his world, far enough removed that he was untainted.
“Do you want to be inside me,” Hyunjin whispered. Chan, still cradling Hyunjin’s hand to his cheek, froze and blinked at him. It made Hyunjin smile, no artifice or sharpness to it. “What,” he asked, laughing a little. “Was that not where this was going?”
“I— I didn’t— I wasn’t—” Chan was blushing, diffused across his handsome face. His wounds had all but healed, a pink scar line across his forehead that would vanish by the time they finished this.
“We don’t have to,” Hyunjin said. He let himself look down for the first time since they’d kissed, and saw Chan was hard. When he looked back at Chan’s face, he found the shifter even redder than before. “But I’d like to. If you want it.”
Chan groaned, deep in his throat, and there was that secondary kind of growl there, overlaying it. He leaned down and kissed Hyunjin again, their mouths sliding wetly. Just when Hyunjin was getting into the rhythm of it Chan pulled away and said, “I haven’t even taken you to dinner—”
Hyunjin pushed him, moderating his strength carefully. Chan made a noise of surprise, finding their positions suddenly reversed — now he lay on the floor, Hyunjin atop him, straddling him. He held himself up away from Chan’s crotch, as he didn’t think the stiff material of his jeans would be kind on Chan’s full cock. His thighs splayed wide around Chan’s hips.
“You’ve provided me with dinner twice now, technically,” he said, and when Chan pulled a face Hyunjin laughed, joyful even though he was cringing at himself over the bad pun. He covered his face while he giggled, waiting for the embarrassment to die down before peeking at Chan through his fingers.
Chan was watching him, his messy curls fanning around his head like a halo. He looked— charmed, by Hyunjin. His hands came to lightly rest on Hyunjin’s clothed thighs, thumbs swiping gently. “I want to know you better,” he murmured. “I want to know everything.”
“Ah,” Hyunjin said, shy, his hands dropping. He thought about making another quip. You’re about to know me very well. He didn’t want to douse the sweet expression on Chan’s face. “There’ll be time, later,” he said instead, running his hand over Chan’s forehead, brushing his curls off his face.
Chan’s eyes fluttered shut, lashes quivering. He really was like a puppy. A touch starved puppy.
Hyunjin cooed at him. He wanted to keep Chan like a pet. When he sat back, his hand left Chan’s face, and Chan’s eyes slowly opened, more glazed than before. “Tell me,” Hyunjin purred, “do you have lube, or am I taking you dry?”
Chan’s eyes widened in shock, and Hyunjin bit back a grin. He had a body that rapidly healed, and as a rule vampires didn’t much shy away from pain. But he could admit he’d prefer some kind of lubricant. It just wouldn’t stop him if there wasn’t any.
“I—” Chan said, clearly struggling for words, “there’s— in that bag—”
He gestured clumsily across the room, at a crumpled black duffel bag wedged into a corner. Hyunjin rose to his feet smoothly, making his way over to the bag with his usual loping grace. As he went he popped the button on his jeans, pressing the zipper down.
The bag wasn’t heavy, but the contents clacked together as Hyunjin brought it back to Chan, who hadn’t moved from the floor. He was watching Hyunjin with blown pupils, gaze darting from his face to where his pants gaped open. Hyunjin repressed a smile and then upturned the bag, all the contents falling to the floor in a mild cacophony. Hyunjin saw lotion — not ideal, but usable— and toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner, body wash, and then a small bottle of massage oil.
Ah, he thought with triumph, and then he hooked his thumbs under the waistbands of both his jeans and his underwear, sliding them down efficiently. Chan sucked in a breath as Hyunjin stepped out of his pants and sneakers at the same time, coming to resume his position straddling Chan’s hips. Their cocks brushed against one another, Hyunjin’s the same length as Chan’s but slimmer. He didn’t mind; there would be few people that could compete with what Chan was working with.
“Oh, Hyunjin,” Chan murmured, gaze roving all over Hyunjin’s bare body.
Hyunjin touched a light fingertip to the middle of his own chest, drew it down in slow patterns until he could dip it into his belly button. “Am I pretty?” he asked, eyes half-lidded.
“You really are,” Chan said, completely and unashamedly honest. He rested his hands on Hyunjin’s thighs again, no denim this time to keep them from being skin to skin. It was a careful touch, like Chan thought Hyunin might swat him away.
Hyunjin smiled a little, tucking his face down. He reached over and snatched up the massage oil, perusing the label quickly to make sure it wasn’t the warming sort. Neither of them needed that on their genitalia.
Satisfied it wouldn’t give him a rash, he popped open the cap and indiscriminately poured the oil all over Chan’s cock so that it dripped down, sliding between Chan’s legs. Pretty, Hyunjin thought, reaching out and taking Chan in hand, smearing oil all along his length, until the firm flesh of him glistened wetly in the moonlight coming in through the high windows. Chan’s breath shivered out of his chest, his hips twitching. The beating of his heart was a heady song playing over Hyunjin’s mind.
“You’re so sensitive,” Hyunjin crooned, squeezing lightly at the head of Chan’s cock just to watch Chan squirm. “It’s cute.”
“Do you often— sleep with people— who don’t have sensitive dicks— fuck—” Chan broke off to moan as Hyunjin stroked him, grip firm and sliding easily.
Hyunjin let him go with a giggle, not wanting Chan to come too fast. The tendons of his neck were so lovely when he tipped his head back. Hyunjin could see his pulse at the sides of his throat, could almost hear the susurration of blood under his skin. He was already heavy with blood, but he would always be aware of it, even when he’d just fed.
His fangs poked at his bottom lip. He worked to draw them back a little, not wanting to cut himself all up. Not wanting to waste more time teasing, he squeezed more oil out, coating the fingers of his right hand with it.
“I can do that for you,” Chan said, his fingertips twitching on Hyunjin’s thighs.
“No,” Hyunjin said simply, tossing the bottle of massage oil back onto the floor with an impatient little flick. Maybe another night Hyunjin would let Chan slowly take him apart, but right now he was kneeling on a concrete floor and they had murder clean up to do — time was of the essence.
Hyunjin reached behind himself and pressed three oiled up fingers into himself, a familiar ache and stretch. With eternity to live it would come to reason vampires had patience, but Hyunjin had been the type to rush himself as a human, and the habit hadn’t left him. He liked to push, liked to press, liked to challenge himself.
Chan’s hands slid around, cupping the backs of Hyunjin’s thighs, fingertips pressing into the swell of his ass. He lifted Hyunjin up just enough, so that he could watch Hyunjin pumping his fingers inside himself. “Three already?” he whispered, heat and concern heavy in his gaze.
Hyunjin braced his free hand on Chan’s chest, the hard swell of muscle there. He maybe was coping a feel as much as he was balancing himself. “Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, edging his pinky finger inside too.
Chan’s brow notched in a scowl, and he looked like he was going to argue, so Hyunjin pulled his fingers out in favor of grabbing at Chan’s cock again. Chan’s mouth snapped shut on whatever words he’d been about to say, hissing instead.
Hyunjin rose up again, settling back as he guided Chan’s cock into himself, slowly lowering down. “Oh,” he said, high and pained. His spine curved, head lolling back and eyes shutting, savoring every sensation. “Oh.”
Chan’s hands were like iron around his hips, thumbs digging into bone. “If it hurts, you don’t— you don’t—” he whimpered, trembling with the effort of staying still.
“Want it,” Hyunjin gasped out. He had never been so full. The stretch of it was a burn that stung sharply at points, quickly soothed away by his own magic. His body yielded to the intrusion until he was sat fully in Chan’s lap, sure that if he looked down he’d be able to see a swell in his belly, where Chan’s cock now took up space.
Chan moaned, control slipping. Hyunjin could smell his magic, could feel the way Chan’s nails had grown pointed and dug into his skin. Chan’s hips stuttered upwards, a sudden drag of his cock inside Hyunjin, and Hyunjin gasped sharply.
“Sorry,” Chan said, whiny and low.
“No,” Hyunjin said, letting his head tip forward and his eyes open. Chan was such a pretty sight underneath him, flushed from his face to his upper chest, nipples peaked. “Don’t hold back. Take what you want.”
Hyunjin rose up until just the head of Chan’s cock was inside of him, and then sank back down, beginning a rhythm. He didn’t bother with a slow wind up, enjoyed the stretch, the burn. His body would never tire, he could ride Chan until the sun rose, until Chan spilled inside him, and then some. Until he was writhing, begging, overstimulation making him cry.
It was so warm in this room, every point of contact between their bodies hot. Chan was like a furnace. Hyunjin could feel sweat dampening his skin. Chan was so fucking big, Hyunjin swore he could feel his organs being pushed aside to make room. That thought shouldn’t have been hot, but it was. The size of him made every push back inside all the more intense, pleasure singing through Hyunjin’s body.
Bloodscent reached Hyunjin’s nose — his own. Chan’s claws had punctured the skin of his hips, little lines seeping out. His eyes glinted gold in the low light, hazy behind his thick lashes. He was trembling, and Hyunjin realized it was with the effort of holding still.
“Chan,” Hyunjin mewled, maybe up for playing a little bit of a game. His cock bobbed between his legs, hard and long, as he bounced on Chan’s lap. “Chan, pretty Channie, you’re just laying there. Doesn’t it feel good inside me?”
Chan’s hands on his hips tightened, and Hyunjin whimpered at the pain. “Fuck,” Chan said, eyes squeezing shut and upper body twisting. His teeth were definitely sharp — not as sharp as Hyunjin’s fangs, run out and visible between his parted lips.
Then Chan rolled his hips up right as Hyunjin sank down, a sudden snap, fluid and strong. “Oh!” Hyunjin cried, and let himself be held still by Chan’s grip on his hips as Chan began to fuck up into him. His movements were quick and rough, and the massage oil had thinned out — the drag of Chan’s cock inside him was almost too much friction. Hyunjin made helpless noises, incoherent, gaze dropping down to Chan’s abdomen, the straining muscles, the way his cock disappeared into Hyunjin’s body. He gripped Chan’s wrists, enjoying feeling helpless when he was anything but.
With a growl, a sudden burst of sound, Chan rolled them again, Hyunjin allowing the movement. He nearly cracked his head on one of the metal lockers, and he braced a hand against it above him to hold his body steady as Chan drove into him. The sounds were obscene, the slapping of skin, Hyunjin’s high whimpers. He let his legs fall lax around Chan’s hips, giving him room to move. Chan lifted Hyunjin’s hips off the floor, holding him up for a better angle, and Hyunjin felt every thought in his brain white out under the pleasure.
“Yeah, just like that,” he heard Chan murmur, husky and strange. “You’re gorgeous, so fucking pretty, all for me, hmm? Squirming on my cock, all for me—”
“Yes,” Hyunjin gasped out. “Yes, yes, ah—”
His orgasm rolled through him, shockingly early, all things considered. Chan fucked him through it, Hyunjin gasping the whole while, every thrust sending another wave of pleasure shivering along his body.
“What the fuck, what the fuck,” he said brokenly as his cock twitched, come pulsing out in steady bursts. Instead of slowing, Chan picked up his pace, brutal with it almost. Hyunjin halfway screamed, hand pushing at the lockers while his legs shuddered, knees drawing up from the overstimulation.
Chan wrapped his fingers around Hyunjin’s spent cock, the sensation so intense Hyunjin almost shoved him off. But he held himself back, let Chan touch him, let him begin to stroke his cock, not letting Hyunjin go soft.
“I can’t,” he whined, even as the pleasure crashed upon him still, his whole body alight. The stretch of Chan inside him had never really subsided, and it seemed like it was getting— worse, somehow. The pleasure stayed at a high, stoked there by Chan’s hand on his cock, but soon Hyunjin could not ignore the definite pressure inside him increasing.
He squirmed, instinctively trying to move away, and Chan let his poor reddened cock go in favor of gripping Hyunjin’s hips again, holding him still. He was frantic now, mindless, animal-wild, his thrusts quick and deep. Every time he pulled back there was a— a tug, on Hyunjin’s rim, like something was catching there. It stretched him further, until it was too much even for Hyunjin.
“Wait, what is— that— what—” Hyunjin gasped, feet sliding on the concrete as he wriggled, unable to keep still.
“It’s my knot, fuck, fuck—” Abruptly Chan stopped thrusting, shoving all the way inside Hyunjin until he was buried to the hilt and then grinding there, tiny little twitches of his hips. His flush deepened, eyes fluttering shut as he moaned, dropping down over Hyunjin’s body, head resting on Hyunjin’s shoulder. He rutted into Hyunjin, mumbling, “Gonna breed you so good, gonna fill you up.”
“You most certainly are not,” Hyunjin choked out, feeling the pressure inside him grow very suddenly, like there was a fist there instead of a cock. “I don’t have the correct equipment— oh god—”
Chan had wrapped his hand around Hyunjin’s cock again, and he began to jerk him off, his hips still pressing rhythmically against’s Hyunjin’s ass. The pressure— the knot— was snug tight right against Hyunjin’s prostate. Hyunjin clenched down and saw stars behind his eyes, while Chan shuddered all along his body. This was insanity.
Hyunjin arched and came again, stuck on Chan’s stupid weird wolf dick, another pulse of come spurting out of him every time he clenched down on the knot. Chan cursed the whole time, his hand shaking so hard that he eventually had to let go of Hyunjin’s cock just to brace his hand on the concrete and breathe.
When it was over — when Hyunjin could see again and his ears stopped ringing, he realized Chan was gently licking the sweat off his upper chest. That would be a long process if he wanted to finish it — Hyunjin sweated enough for ten men.
“Pretty baby,” Chan mumbled against his skin, brushing his knuckles over Hyunjin’s stomach, through the come there. “Took it so well, Hyunjin. Did so good.”
How did I get here, Hyunjin wondered. The knot was still— inflated. “Why do you have a fucking knot,” he panted. “And when will it— go away.”
Chan licked up the side of his throat, and Hyunjin couldn’t help but let his head tilt back to give him more access. He liked the little thrill of vulnerability. He rather thought Chan liked it too. “Maybe fifteen minutes,” Chan slurred, and Hyunjin pinched his side in outrage. Chan yelped, jerking, and the motion had both of them groaning. “It doesn’t always happen.”
Hyunjin laughed a little. “No, I imagine it might be difficult to explain.”
They lay in silence for a time, Hyunjin shifting a little to try and get more comfortable. Above him, Chan’s breathing steadily evened out, his heartbeat slowing from its rapid pace. His licking had turned to kissing, soft presses to the hinge of Hyunjin’s jaw, his cheek.
“So,” Hyunjin finally drawled, “you have a breeding kink, hm.”
Chan sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. His nails were back to normal, and so were his eyes, when he looked down at Hyunjin. “Don’t make fun of me,” he said, and Hyunjin grinned, fangs still run out.
“I’m nice and bred now,” Hyunjin said, patting his lower stomach, careful to avoid his softening cock. Inside him, Chan’s dick gave a decided twitch, and Hyunjin blinked. “Oh, it’s bad, huh.”
Chan looked at him balefully, all puppy-wounded. “I need to borrow your phone, mine’s outside in my jeans pocket.”
Hyunjin, ever magnanimous, opted not to point out that poor subject transition. He flopped an arm out, fishing for his pants, and then drew them in. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to Chan.
Chan sat back on his haunches, and Hyunjin had to squirm closer to accommodate the new angle, otherwise the knot tugged. It was keeping him from going fully soft. He thought if he came again, it might actually kill him. And he was technically already dead. The come on his stomach was going tacky, and so was the sweat all over the rest of him. He wondered if Chan would let him use one of the gym’s showers.
It turned out that Chan wanted to make a phone call. He didn’t put it on speaker, but he didn’t need to — Hyunjin could hear it anyway. The phone rang six times, before a man picked up, gruffly saying, “Who the fuck is this?”
“Changbin, it’s me,” Chan said, free hand dropping to rest on his hip as he clearly sort of— came back to himself, staring around the room like he was only just now cataloging everything. “I uh, well I got ambushed by hunters outside the gym, I guess.”
Hyunjin smiled up at him, wickedness surely visible on his face. He swiveled his hips a little and watched Chan’s eyes go bright and glassy, breath inhaling sharply. He scrabbled at Hyunjin’s waist, pressing his hips down firmly.
“You what,” the man on the other end — Changbin — squawked, genuine concern in his voice, which was nice for Chan, Hyunjin supposed. “Are you okay? Let me get dressed—”
“I’m alright, I— the vampire from the other night saved me,” Chan said, and the rustling on the other end quickly ceased. Hyunjin bit his bottom lip, careful to catch it with his blunt human teeth, still smiling. He moved again, a slow undulation, and Chan swallowed thickly. “I— I was calling for help with— with the bodies—”
“Chan, are you hurt?” Changbin asked, still worried but now also— suspicious.
“No, I—” Chan broke off with a choking sound when Hyunjin clenched around him. His voice was significantly higher as he said, “Actually, you know what, maybe don’t come down right now.”
There was a long pause, during which Chan’s dick, which had begun to go soft and a little smaller, quickly firmed up again, swelling back to full size. Hyunjin rocked down on it, whimpering softly.
Finally Changbin said, very flat, “Is he still there. Are you still with him.”
Chan was already beginning to drift again, Hyunjin could see it. His eyes went a little unfocused, ears going red. In a tiny, sheepish voice, Chan mumbled, “I popped a knot.”
“You’re fucking him right now?” Changbin fairly screamed down the phone.
“Technically,” Hyunjin said, raising his voice a little to be heard, “the fucking part is over. I’m just stuck.”
“No!” Changbin said, and then, “Aaaaarrggghh!!!”
Before Chan could try to smooth it over, the line went dead. Hyunjin laughed, tipping his head back to the floor. Chan snapped his hips forward, and Hyunjin’s laughter turned into a garbled mess of a noise.
“I’m going to get arrested,” Chan sighed, but he didn’t sound very perturbed about it.
“You won’t,” Hyunjin promised. He tugged Chan down again, draping his arms around Chan’s shoulders. “I’ll call my maker after we’re done. He’ll make fun of me, but he’ll help.”
And sure enough, Minho laughed until he nearly vomited, gulping gagging sounds on the other end of the line mixed with high pitched cackles. Hyunjin waited, Chan tracing patterns on his back, and then asked, “Will you come help?”
“No shit,” Minho said, still laughing, and then hung up.
Hyunjin put the phone down, turning to smile gently at Chan. “It’ll take him like an hour to get here,” he said. “Can we clean ourselves up, in the meanwhile.”
Chan stared at him from a handspan away, soppy and fond. Like Hyunjin was beautiful, like Hyunjin was special. He tucked his face down, shy under such a look.
“Yeah,” Chan said, ducking down to kiss Hyunjin’s bare shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”