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Jeongin wanted to eat him whole. He tilted his head to the side, teeth sharp and glistening white as they aimed towards the soft skin of Seungmin’s neck. Warmth flooded his mouth once the skin had been pierced; the liquid was richer than Jeongin would have imagined, more enticing than anything he had ever had before. He drank greedily, gasping after each swallow, ignoring Seungmin’s limbs flailing beneath him. He grabbed both of Seungmin’s wrists in one hand and pinned them down to his thighs.
Once he had gotten his fill, Jeongin detached his teeth, jolting Seungmin’s body away from him carelessly and dragging a heavy hand across his face to try to wipe off the excess. Instead, the blood smeared across his cheeks and mouth, reddening his lips as though he had just been harshly kissed.
With heavy-lidded eyes, he inspected the rapidly drying blood on the back of his hand. It was always strange seeing it outside of the body. Before, the blood had only ever been a desperately conjured image in the back of his mind, or a powerful, incessant thrumming in his ears.
Seungmin moved from where he had been tossed off of the couch and onto the floor, groaning and trembling as he tried to force himself up under his own power. Just watching him move made Jeongin want to sink his teeth back in. He wanted to gnaw at him, sink his teeth in until his flesh gave in and recognised its true master.
He knew he shouldn’t, though. He knew. So with great restraint, he stuck out his hand, mindful to use the hand devoid of blood, and pulled Seungmin from where he was toppled over on the ground. It was obvious he was still hazy from the blood loss; his pupils were blown wide and dazed, and his steps were teetering and unbalanced. Jeongin snatched his hand back quickly, as though it burned, and turned his head away from the stumbling figure before him. If he looked any longer, he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation.
He grabbed Seungmin’s shirt off of the floor and buried his face in it momentarily, inhaling his scent - tears, blood, and dirt, combined with something he couldn’t quite identify - before throwing it over his shoulder at the still queasy Seungmin. The shirt’s scent couldn’t actually do much for him, not enough to quell his hunger, but he had learned it was better to just pretend otherwise sometimes. On harder days, lying to himself had helped with the urges. They never subsided completely, but sometimes they had fallen to the side for a bit.
He could hear Seungmin pulling his shirt on behind him, arm sliding through each hole with force now that he had seemingly gotten control over his limbs. He turned back around, making conscious effort to not look at the circle of little teeth marks just above Seungmin’s collar.
“Bandages? Please?” Seungmin didn’t say much else, and Jeongin wasn't sure whether or not he should be grateful for that. It was worse when they talked, tried to connect with him, human as they were.
Life had improved for him once he had accepted that he would never truly be one of them, would never live life without this dull ache in his teeth, the buzzing in his ears, the stabbing in his heart that made his hands jitter and shake and claw at everyone he met. Sometimes, though, he liked the conversation - liked to taunt him and remind him who held the power.
Jeongin kept silent, digging in his pocket and pulling out a wad of greyed bandages, dusty and rumpled from how long they had been there. There was a pause as Seungmin eyed them, considering his options before he sighed in defeat - this was probably the best it would get. With now steady fingers, he reached out and grabbed the bandages, wrapping them a few times around his neck without worrying about disinfecting the wounds. By this point, it would be a miracle from the heavens if they did get infected. At least when he died, he thought, Jeongin would finally leave him alone.
“I'm sorry.” Jeongin always got like this afterwards: apologetic and demure. Eyes wide and hopeful like an injured puppy. The first time it had made Seungmin so angry he had spat at him and walked away. He had learnt, that day, that Jeongin’s restraint was intentional. He was not as naive as he presented himself to be. Now, he kept silent. What more would his false apologies do? Seungmin would forever be like this: tainted, damaged, whole chunks of his soul and body taken from him.
“Sorry.” Then came the build up. “Are you feeling any better?”
Seungmin stared at him, too tired to muster up any frustration. Jeongin hadn’t really attempted to heal him, definitely knew he would still be suffering. Either this was the spite that sometimes arose when Jeongin felt a genuine pang of remorse, or he wanted something more.
Seungmin stuck out his arm without grace, allowing Jeongin to take it and guide them back to their sitting position on the couch. Jeongin’s mouth was watering at the sight of the tender flesh. He poked and prodded at it for a few seconds, softening the area as much as was possible and then looked up into Seungmin’s eyes, inspecting them for the earlier haziness. When he was satisfied that Seungmin was lucid, he smiled at him, unsurprised when Seungmin’s face remained passive.
He pushed his head down without further preamble, latching his teeth onto the soft skin just under Seungmin’s elbow. The pain, at first, was about what it normally was, sharp and inundating, but when Jeongin bit down further, a grinding noise being made as a result, Seungmin couldn’t help the scream that escaped him. He pushed at Jeongin’s head frantically, but to no avail.
“Get off me,” he tried to yell but his body was still drained and weakened, coming out as more of a whisper. He tried to hit Jeongin with as much force as his body would allow him to, but it did little to stop him. “Jeongin, please.”
With the arm closest to Seungmin’s body, Jeongin grabbed the back of Seungmin’s neck and squeezed, making soft sounds of enjoyment as he continued to bite down. There was a sound somewhere in the haze of his mind, shrill and annoying. He let up, chewing the fleshy reward in his mouth, and the noise stopped.
Seungmin was crying now, great heaving sobs. His body was splayed against the back of the couch, his head lolling over the back of it as he tried to catch his breath. Jeongin brought his bleeding arm up to his mouth and lapped up some of the blood spilling from the open wound. The taste was noticeably dampened, not quite as sapid as before. He would have to explain this to Seungmin as soon as he was finished crying and back in his room for the day.
“Fuck,” Seungmin was dry heaving amidst his choking sobs. “I just want to go home. I want to go home.”
“Hey, you’re okay.” Jeongin comforted him, offering a gentle smile in consolation. “You taste really sweet, hyung.”
When Seungmin descended into a fresh wave of tears, he rolled his eyes and stood up. “I'm gonna go get some fresh air, I think. When you’re done crying, I'll come back to get you. Okay?”
Without waiting for a response, he stood and swept out of the room, leaving Seungmin to clutch at his bloody arm and sob.
The night air was cool on Jeongin’s skin, reminding his soul of what body it resided in. They were lucky to even be able to feel this. Their garden had fences metres high, so even if anybody in their relatively secluded area suddenly decided to take an interest in their neighbours, it would be too difficult to see in. And so, they enjoyed their little patch of the outside without fear. The grass was overgrown, standing as tall as Jeongin’s thighs as he waded through it. He could deal with being pricked by a few thorny plants if he could clear his head like this.
A voice broke him out of his thoughts, yelling at him from the doorway. He turned around, not quite able to make out the figure in the darkness, and waded back through the tall, dying grass.
“Jeongin, did you just leave him in there? You know you can’t do that.” Minho scolded him as he got closer, snagging his arm and pulling once he was within range.
“He’s fine,” Jeongin said, flicking a dismissive hand as he followed Minho inside. “He was just crying. It was boring.”
“What if he’s escaped, Jeongin? What then?”
Jeongin turned disbelieving eyes onto him. When would Seungmin have gathered the strength to be able to do so? He couldn’t move more than a few centimetres without their help and he was drugged almost all the time.
“You know he hasn’t.”
They found Seungmin exactly where Jeongin had left him, blood staining the couch, cries of pain still filling the air. Jeongin couldn’t help the stab of anger that went through him. He placed an insincere arm around Seungmin’s shoulder and sat by him.
“You know I hate the dramatics, hyung.” He laid his head on Seungmin, feeling him heave and shake as he tried to stop crying. “It can’t still hurt, can it?”
Seungmin’s breath stuttered as he processed the question and decided whether or not he was supposed to respond. The choice was made for him when Minho sat on his other side and pinched his uninjured arm.
“Come on now, Seungmin. Does it still hurt?” Minho had always been better at the false sincerity.
If he was honest, he didn’t really want to push them any further. They were unpredictable, and Seungmin always seemed to get the short end of the stick.
He let his gaze fall to the ground and tried to keep his attention off of the stabbing pain in his arm. “It…doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Satisfied, Jeongin unravelled his arm from his shoulders, patting his head tenderly instead. “Glad to hear it, hyung.”
“Now, aren’t you going to apologise for making all that unnecessary noise?” Minho asked chidingly.
“I'm sorry.” Seungmin said, as monotone as he could achieve. They’d done this song and dance a few times, but the still-bleeding hole in his arm was a new addition. One of them would hurt him, in whatever new way they imagined, and then Seungmin would be forced to grovel at their feet until they forgave him.
Despite the disingenuity of the apology, Minho hummed in acceptance as he lifted Seungmin’s arm. Seungmin was sure he couldn’t lift it on his own, but he didn’t like the ease with which Minho manipulated its movement. Jeongin pinned his other arm down as Minho pressed his tongue to the wound. It wasn’t supposed to hurt, but you could never really tell what would hurt with Seungmin, as fragile as he was.
When he removed the appendage, the skin around the wound was beginning to knit itself back together, slowly but surely. Jeongin let go of his arm and stood.
“Thank you.” Seungmin muttered.
Minho patted his cheek condescendingly. “Of course, sweetheart. Now, I think it’s time for you to sleep.”
He stood to meet Jeongin, pulling Seungmin to stand, giving him a few seconds to balance himself, groggy as he was.
“Wait,” Jeongin said, “I want him out.”
Minho nodded in acquiescence, holding a firm arm around Seungmin as Jeongin left and returned with a cup full of cloudy water. Another tear dropped from one of Seungmin’s eyes but he wiped it away before they could see. He didn’t want them to think he had begun crying again and leave him there alone once more.
With a sudden tenderness, Jeongin held the cup up to Seungmin’s mouth and coaxed him into drinking, stroking his hair as he did. When the cup was half finished, Jeongin took it from him, putting it down and mockingly pinching one of Seungmin’s cheeks.
“Oh, good job, baby. That was really good. You can sleep now, okay?”
Exhaustion was descending over Seungmin like a cosy blanket. He knew what this was, the drugs, the sudden praise, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. At least if he succumbed to the darkness, he would finally be able to sleep. They hadn’t really let him sleep last night, so it was a very much welcomed feeling. He let his eyes drift shut and tried not to think too deeply as he fell into the gentle rhythms of sleep.
Jeongin peered at him consideringly and nodded. “He’s out.”
Taking that as his cue, Minho unwound his arm from around Seungmin’s shoulders, heaving him up onto his shoulder until Seungmin’s face was towards his back, legs dangling in front of him.
“He tasted so fucking good, hyung,” Jeongin chatted excitedly as they trudged down the dark steps towards the cells. “I swear, you have to try. You have to. I only took a little bit, there’s loads left for you.”
“Okay, okay.” Minho laughed good-naturedly, “Maybe next time. But, for future reference, can we talk about it before you try something new? We don’t want to hurt him too badly.”
Jeongin deflated slightly, pulling open the barred gate towards Seungmin’s little cell with noticeably less enthusiasm. “Sorry.”
Minho entered, laying Seungmin onto the dirty floor by the back wall and covering him with the blanket left in a heap in the corner.
“That's okay, Jeongin. Let’s just keep that in mind for next time, hm?”
“I will do, hyung.” He locked the door behind Minho once he exited, no longer toting Seungmin with him. The door to the cell was clear despite the bars, so he could see Seungmin laying there, unstirring.
“Aren’t you hungry? Should we wake up Felix?” Jeongin asked Minho, tearing his eyes away from Seungmin’s prone figure.
“I don’t think so, darling. Maybe in the morning.”
Jeongin nodded. After a second of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Minho, holding onto him tightly. “Thank you for staying with me and helping with all this.”
Jeongin didn’t think he imagined the misty quality to Minho’s eyes when he looked up. He extricated himself from Jeongin’s embrace, never really one for hugs, and patted him on the head. “You’re very welcome, darling.”
Jeongin broke the moment first. “I think I’m going to stay down here for the night. Watch them.”
Minho smiled fondly. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
Once Minho had left, footsteps echoing up the stairs and into the distance, Jeongin settled himself on the floor outside of Seungmin’s cell, staring as he twitched unconsciously in his sleep. The taste of his skin sat sour and stale in his mouth. Jeongin’s head was beginning to vibrate with need, but he could be patient. When Seungmin awoke, Jeongin would be right there - hungry and eager.