Chapter Text
October
The old and rusty hinges squeak eerily as Jisung pushes the metal gate open, stepping into the courtyard. He clutches the switchblade hiding in his pocket, his head swimming with curse words and thoughts of premature death.
Fuck his stupid friends. Fuck Halloween and their stupid games.
But most of all, fuck his stupid idea of bringing up the old haunted house at the outskirts of the town.
It could have been such a perfect night; Chan and Changbin came over at six with beer and candy, the latter for Jisung, the former for themselves and everyone else. Seungmin and Hyunjin followed right after, bringing savoury snacks and some rented DVDs from the store down the street.
Jisung wanted to do nothing more than to surround himself with his closest friends, make camp in his parents’ living room and cause himself a little sugar high while watching his favourite slashers. Halloween was something he looked forward to every year, a day he enjoyed even more than Christmas or his birthday, and that’s why him and his friends made a permanent tradition ever since they were too old to go trick-or-treating.
Jisung’s house, movies, good food and even better company. The alcohol was the newest addition, mainly because even the youngest of them turned eighteen this year. Even though he could legally have a drink now, Jisung’s face still soured when he caught a whiff of the beer Chan and Changbin were chugging down like water.
He would rather stick to his sweet candy and hot chocolate, thank you very much.
As Jisung has stated earlier, their night had the potential to be just perfect. That was of course, until one too many beers were drunk and few bottles of liquor stolen from his parents’ cabinets. Around midnight, no one paid attention to the movies playing on the screen anymore. Instead, drunken games were set into motion.
It wasn’t like they have never played them before; be it never have I never, gay chicken or truth or dare. But with alcohol coursing through his friends, Jisung began to feel like their wild and highly abstract conversations were slipping from his grasp. He didn’t have much experience with drunk people, but he desperately wanted to keep up with his friends’ foolery.
And that’s how, when it was his turn to say something that he has never ever done, his mind conjured up the image of the old house on the top of the little hill. He remembered folk tales being whispered; bedtime stories told to little children about what would happen if they misbehaved.
His own grandmother had one, too. She would always tuck him in his bed at night, her lulling voice telling the tragic story of a young man doomed to live in that house alone, forever. The parts of her story changed constantly, but the result was always the same. Still, little Jisung hoped every night that the hero would somehow change his fate and find happiness.
“I’ve never been to the haunted house,” he said, no need to specify which one he meant, because all of them knew.
No one raised their hand, but the topic of the house stayed, mainly because of the thrill of it. The talks of the gothic villa were an unspoken taboo in any conversation with their parents, and all they would ever be told was that they were not to come even near the white stone walls that surrounded the estate. The standing reason was that the building was crumbling on itself, so trespassing could be life-endangering.
But to Jisung, this reasoning has always felt a little off. The villa was standing intact for the eighteen years he has been alive. He passed the property every day on his way to school, and have never seen a window break or the roof collapse when the rain seasons came.
He couldn’t deny that he has always been curious to see it up close. And maybe that’s why when Hyunjin asked him later the question of truth or dare, Jisung picked the second option, subconsciously knowing what he was going to get.
“I dare you to go inside the haunted house and bring a proof.”
Now, as Jisung stands behind the metal gate inside the front garden leading up to the house, he doesn’t feel nearly as brave as he did back in the safety of his house. The switchblade is meant to give him some sense of protection, as Changbin has said, but all it does is weigh uncomfortably in the pocket of his jeans.
Swallowing dry, Jisung puts one foot in front of the other. All of his senses are heightened, his heartbeat the loudest thing in his ears. He knows that if he gets too scared and turns away to run back to his house, his friends won’t laugh. But something about the eternal look of the white façade, the pointed castellations is making him wonder.
Because when he is looking at the house from behind the window of his school bus, it looks deserted, but still in a somewhat good shape. From up close, when he focuses on one aspect of the building – a window or the front door – his eyes start to sting, causing him to blink rapidly. When the uncomfortable itch dissipates and Jisung looks at the same window again, he swears its shape and colour changes.
It could always be the moon, playing its tricks on him by reflecting light, or his fear, making him see things that are not really there. But somehow, Jisung knows this is not the case.
He crosses the distance that separates him from the front door with few steps. His hand is trembling when he reaches for the doorknob, expecting it not to budge. An involuntary gasp escapes his lips when the door gives and he steps over the threshold.
Inside, the air is chilly. There is no howling wind, no clattering of doors or cabinets. It’s deadly quiet, the moonlight shining through the windows. In that moment, Jisung mentally berates himself for forgetting to bring his flashlight.
The uncomfortable sting in his eyes is back – this time stronger than it was outside. Jisung rubs his eyes as he begins to explore the ground floor.
There is a handful of rooms, some big enough to be mistaken for ballrooms. Several of them have its own fireplace, but remain otherwise empty. Jisung threads lightly in his step as there is no furniture to absorb the sound of his sneakers echoing against the hardwood floor.
To his surprise, the fear that was consuming him outside has mostly transformed into pure curiosity. He still doesn’t feel safe per say, but something about this house is luring him in, he can feel it in his bones. Even furniture-less, it’s beautiful.
After he searches the ground floor, his newly found bravery makes him climb up the stairs in the hallway. His hand on the polished wooden railing, Jisung can’t stop wondering about what’s going on in this place. The whole house looks like one big contradiction, inside and out.
When his feet hit the landing, Jisung is still too lost in his thoughts to react in time. He looks to his right, then his left, and it’s only when he wants to take the few steps to the nearest door, does he notice the pair of bright red eyes watching him from the corner.
He freezes to the spot, now making eye contact with… someone? Or something?
It’s hidden in the shadows, only the piercing eyes visible. Jisung’s heart begins to hammer against his ribcage, like it wants to escape his body and run for its life. Slowly, he spreads his arms to the side, trying to appear non-threatening.
The thing must interpret his actions differently though, because it moves out of its hiding place with a speed Jisung almost can’t register. Not knowing where it’s going to strike, he bends at his waist and takes on step back, entirely forgetting the stairs behind him.
With a yelp, he begins to fall, the ground disappearing from under him. He hits his shoulder as he tumbles down, only now remembering how long the staircase actually was. Pain shoots through his lower back, the back of his head and after that he feels…
Nothing.
The thought of being dead passes through his mind, but it’s not the grim reaper that looks at him when he coaxes his eyes open. His gaze meets those piercing eyes that were watching him just few seconds ago, now golden brown instead of red.
In that moment, Jisung knows it’s true, all of it. His grandma’s fairytale, the folktales being whispered in children’s bedrooms and around campfires. Jisung is staring at him, his wide eyes, parted lips, just close enough to touch.
When his gaze slips down to his mouth, his breath hitches in his throat, choking on nothing. Fear rushes through his body again, urging him to move despite the tight hold the boy has on him. He begins to squirm, hands planted to his chest to push him away.
The boy raises his eyebrow at him, but his mouth splits into a wide smirk when he registers the fear in Jisung’s eyes.
Jisung stops breathing entirely when he leans closer, his lips ghosting along the shell of his ear.
“Sleep,” he whispers to him, and despite his every effort at staying awake, Jisung’s eyes close with last look at his captor.
✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧
When Jisung gains consciousness again, he awakes to the low drawling sounds coming from somewhere next to his hip.
Feeling weary and with his head pounding mercilessly, he cranes his neck to look for its source, the fear he felt earlier creeping back to his mind.
Jisung chuckles, maybe too loudly, when he sees a black cat curled up at his side, his eyes closed and indicating a deep slumber. It’s then that he realizes he is lying on a canopy bed, the sheets silky underneath his body. The room is illuminated by the soft glow of numerous candles, placed everywhere from the night tables to the window sill.
He is about to prop himself up on his elbows, but when he tugs at his hands, Jisung discovers that he has been tied up to the headboard, rope around his wrists. It’s not tight enough to cause pain, but his heart starts to beat rapidly with new dose of fear.
If only he could reach into his pocket…
His squirming wakes up the cat who shoots him a disgruntled look, yellow eyes with dark narrow slits boring into his as if he was telling him to quit moving. The feline even tilts his head to the side like an irritated person would, and Jisung gets that eerie feeling in his bones.
“Were you the one who tied me to the bed?” He asks, feeling embarrassed when the cat just continues staring at him. Of course, that animals can’t talk, he chides himself.
A soft chuckle rips his attention away from the feline. Terrified, Jisung looks to the right side of the room, eyes wide and his heart in his throat.
“No, I did it.”
Swallowing hard, Jisung can now see his captor without any obstruction. Blond strands of hair fall into his brown eyes, the corners of his lips spread into an amused smile. His white blouse covers his upper body, tucked into his loosely fitting pants. There is a porcelain tray in his hands, its contents yet invisible to Jisung.
“Who are you?” He manages to get out, his throat constricting with fear around his words. He hates that the other can definitely sense how terrified he is. “Why did you trap me here?”
Smug grin playing on his face, the boy comes closer to the bed, placing the tray on the night table. Without a word, he plops down beside him, then takes a steaming mug and holds it to Jisung’s lips.
“No,” Jisung shakes his head at him, tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t know what that is, I don’t want it.”
The other rolls his eyes at him, like his refusal annoyed him. But, in a gentler tone than Jisung has expected, he says, “It’s for your head. You hit yourself pretty hard, falling down the stairs.”
Red eyes flash before him, then the pain in his shoulder. Jisung instinctively pulls away from the stranger as much as the restrains on his wrists allow. His movements disturb the cat yet again, and this time, the black feline hops up on his chest, loafing his body there, his stare intense.
Jisung finds his response then, feeling more afraid and confused with each passing second. “And whose fault was that?”
“Feisty,” the other answers, smirking. “I like that. Now drink or I’ll put you to sleep again.”
Still unsure, Jisung eyes the mug in his hand. “Your drink first.”
“I would love to drink, but tea isn’t really what could sustain me and you are taking so long.”
Shivers run down his spine, cold stabs his rigid muscles. Another memory from right before he fell unconscious appear on his mind; plush parted lips, hovering just few inches from his own. Two white fangs, looking so sharp Jisung is sure they could cut through skin.
Craning his wrist and moving his body up the bed, Jisung has the urge to check his neck for bites. The boy is watching him like Jisung was sent to be his tonight’s entertainment and, so far, he is failing miserably at it. His fingers barely make contact with the skin on his throat despite his efforts.
“You can quit that now,” the other says in an unamused tone. “I don’t bite unconscious people, I have standards.”
Jisung’s throat bobs as he swallows. “So… it’s true?”
“What is?”
The smirk on his face is challenging, and Jisung doesn’t like it at all. Still, he finds the courage to squeak out, “That you are a… v-vampire?”
“I thought we already established that on the stairs, but yes. I’m a vampire, a bloodsucker and all that. My friends call me Minho, though.”
Jisung gapes at him unabashedly. He doesn’t know if he is taken aback more by his simple admission or the fact that he said he has friends. Are there more vampires in this town? More haunted houses Jisung doesn’t know of?
Snapping his fingers, Minho pulls him back from his thoughts. He once again hovers the mug to his lips, his stare impatient.
“Are you going to kill me?”
Tired sigh escapes Minho’s mouth. “I wasn’t planning on doing that, but if you keep asking me all these questions, I might sincerely reconsider.”
Jisung doesn’t know why, but he believes Minho’s words to be true. He already has him tied down at his mercy, so if he wanted to kill him, he could have done that while he was out and tied to his bed. Or right after he woke up, if Minho was really telling the truth about not liking to bite unconscious people.
He doesn’t break eye contact as he leans to drink from the mug. It coats his tastebuds in honey and lemon balm, the other ingredients too bleak to recognize. Jisung gulps down a half of it, feeling little drops running down his chin.
Minho places the tea back on the tray, his other hand going up to wipe Jisung’s chin. Something dangerous stirs in his stomach when Minho touches him; his fingers are icy cold, but it leaves his skin burning with a sensation he can’t name.
They stare at each other for more than a moment. Jisung can feel Minho analysing him, the shape of his face, his eyes, the tip of his nose and his mouth. It’s quiet, save for the feline’s incessant purring.
“What’s your name, darling?”
Darling. Heat creeps into Jisung’s face when his mind can’t help but replay the word over and over again.
“I-It’s Jisung.”
“Cute,” Minho utters. “I have a feeling you are going to taste so sweet, aren’t you?”
“But you said you didn’t want to kill me.”
“I don’t,” he confirms as his hand moves from Jisung’s face to pet the cat lying on his chest. “Salem seems to like you a lot. He doesn’t usually get attached to my meals.”
“Your what?!”
Great, Jisung thinks, this is just great. From all that could have happened to him when he stepped into a haunted house, he had to run into a hungry vampire that dresses like Casanova and apparently watches too much witchy teenage TV series.
“You trespassed, came into my home without being invited,” Minho reminds him in a scolding voice. “But you didn’t break anything, so I’ll just feed and let you go unharmed.”
The word feed and unharmed being said in one sentence by a vampire doesn’t really signal to Jisung the feeling of safety. He tries to plead with him, his chest bubbling with fear.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung begins honestly. “It was a stupid bet and I should have never come here, I’m really sorry–”
“Shh, darling,” Minho coos at him, his gentle voice coming back. “I know you didn’t have ill intentions. I would have felt it.”
One of his hands comes to cradle his face, the touch burning Jisung with cold and something he doesn’t dare to put a name on. Minho’s eyes are boring into his, golden specks in his brown shining at him.
Jisung is struck with how alien his beauty is. How otherworldly, how unreal, just like the house itself. He feels small under his gaze, and not just because of his vampirism – of the predator and prey implication – but because of all the people Minho could have, and he still wants him.
To drink your blood, you idiot, Jisung reminds himself bitterly.
Suddenly, the weight lifts from his chest as Salem gets up and stretches his limbs, hopping off the bed entirely. He walks out of the room, tail high in the air and Jisung feels like his every lifeline has just left with the cat.
Minho, his hand still cradling his face, leans closer, just like he did on the staircase. Jisung’s heart speeds up, his stomach coiling when he feels surprisingly hot breath on his ear.
“The bite isn’t just about me feeding on you. There is a reason why people seek out vampires on their own will.”
“Why?” Jisung whispers back, curiosity getting the better of him.
Before Minho answers, Jisung feels his wet lips on his skin, his earlobe. He shudders, sighing out more loudly than he anticipated.
“Pleasure.”
Jisung knows he must be redder than a tomato when Minho pulls back and looks at him with hunger. They are so close, so much that Jisung could only tip his head and their foreheads would meet, the tips of their noses brush. He can’t understand where the desire to connect their lips comes from, but he feels the tension between them like a live wire, and he is sure Minho does, too.
Positioning his body on the bed, Minho props himself on his elbow, towering over him. His fingers begin to trace shapes into his chest, and even through the thin material of his t-shirt, Jisung knows his skin is ablaze, burning with need for the real touch.
“Sweetheart,” Minho asks him suddenly, innocent eyes searching his face. “Are you a virgin?”
If it’s the pet name or the question itself, Jisung doesn’t know, but the whine he elicits is nothing but humiliating. He feels Minho’s fingers caress his lower stomach, so gently that it makes Jisung’s eyes roll back into his head.
“I know you can already feel it. Right here,” Minho emphasizes, pressing his whole palm to his tummy. “And from the way your heart is beating so loudly I would say that you haven’t had your first time yet.”
Jisung doesn’t dignify him with a response. He turns his head to the side, away from his tempting lips and squishes his cheek into the pillow. Minho continues to touch him softly, and Jisung has a hard time keeping his whimpers behind his lips.
“You don’t have to be shy,” Minho whispers as he slides his hand under the hem of his t-shirt. “I’m going to find out anyway after I taste you.”
Cold fingers caress his skin. Jisung’s mouth hangs open when Minho touches his nipple, electric shocks coursing through his body. He involuntarily chases the feeling, arching into his palm when Minho lifts his hand up.
“Look at me, Jisung.”
His tone is soft, lulling him into comfort. The fear that was filling Jisung’s chest and constricting his throat is replaced with curiosity and desire – a kind of longing he is sure he hasn’t felt before.
When Jisung meets his gaze, his eyes are lidded with want. Minho catches his chin between his fingers, keeping him in place when he says, “I promise you it’s not going to hurt. Unless you would want to.”
Mesmerized by his beauty, Jisung almost forgets what his words were. He nods his head which causes Minho to chuckle fondly, his laughing so melodic and pure Jisung wants to ask him to never stop. He feels the urge to touch him, to feel the texture of his alabaster skin under his fingertips.
“Untie me, please,” he asks as Minho repositions himself on the bed, now leaning over him on his hands and knees.
From the way he looks down at him, Jisung knows he is contemplating his plea. His forehead scrunches, and Jisung can’t tell how much more human the gesture is making him look right now.
“Not yet, darling. I’m going to make you feel good first.”
Before Jisung can get his bearings, Minho rips his t-shirt in half, leaving his upper body naked. The movement is swift and precise, graceful and it reminds Jisung once again of Minho’s true nature. His exposed skin shivers, his muscles go taut.
For a long while, Minho stares at him wordlessly. His eyes are taking in his curves, his pink nipples and toned stomach. He swings his leg over his waist, straddling him as he leans closer to litter small kisses everywhere he can reach.
The pressure on his groin is definitely not helping Jisung in the slightest. The attention Minho is paying to his body keeps his thoughts straying to those moments when he is alone at home and aching hard, and how much he wants Minho to touch him like he himself does.
Because Minho was right – nobody has ever touched him before, not even kissed him properly. It scares him how much he wants it, how much his body is telling him that he is going to enjoy it if he lets go.
“Look at you,” Minho groans as he kisses his way up to his chest. “So beautiful, Jisung.”
The moment he says his name, Jisung looks down to catch his gaze. Minho’s eyes have turned burgundy red, just like they were the first time Jisung saw him on the first floor. His fangs are hanging over his bottom lip, sharp and pointy.
The wild look on his face should make Jisung afraid. His heart is beating its way out of his ribcage, but it’s not fear that fuels it. It’s wonder, arousal and, to Jisung’s surprise, excitement.
Minho brings his lips to his left pec, sucking his skin into his mouth. The sting comes a second later, but the pain is caused more by the primal shock than the bite itself. Jisung sees blood pooling around where Minho is drinking, little droplets running down to his stomach.
It’s over before Jisung can even properly react. Minho pulls away, his eyes back to his golden brown, his lips stained with red. He licks them clean with his tongue, humming contentedly.
Hiking up his body to be face to face with Jisung, one corner of his mouth turns up.
“So sweet, darling. I was right, then,” he says with a smug grin. “You still remain innocent.”
Something about his word choice makes Jisung’s stomach stir. He squeezes his thighs together, hoping that Minho won’t notice. The vampire brings his hand to his mouth, playing with Jisung’s lower lip.
“Just like the bite, I can make your first time painless,” he whispers, eyes flicking all over Jisung’s face, like he is committing the shape of his face to his memory.
Minho’s venom must be kicking in, relaxing his mind and body, because Jisung couldn’t explain why the next words that come out of him are, “You would want to…sleep with me?”
The resulting throaty groan makes Jisung’s heart thumping uncontrollably.
“I want to eat you whole, Jisung,” Minho whispers, his voice levelled and even. Jisung doesn’t miss the moment he grinds their hips together, causing him to ache even harder in his jeans. “I want to feel you around me, your sweet little body.”
Jisung gasps when Minho dives for his neck. He expects teeth, the piercing sensation, but all he gets are little kisses, little nips at his skin. Minho’s weight on his body is making him burn inside with need, and before he can think twice about it, he begins meeting his hips with his own.
“Tell me you want it, sweetheart.”
Jisung turns to where Minho’s head is lying in the crook of his neck. “I want it. I want to feel you.”
Minho’s grin is wide, his eyes crinkling. Right now, he looks like an ordinary boy, a one Jisung might have had a crush on if the reality was different. But, when he watches Minho move back to pay attention to his stomach, his heart leaps in his chest. He feels the inexplicable need to card his hands through his hair, tell him that it feels good.
After Minho bites him several times, all of the pain in his head, his shoulder and lower back disappears and desire overtakes his mind. Jisung watches him the entire time, discovering that Minho’s teeth appear only right before he is about to feed, which affects the colour of his eyes as well.
He leaves little bleeding slits all over his skin, only drinking for few seconds from each. His hands roam all over his body, one currently toying with the button on his jeans. Jisung spreads his legs tentatively to the side, signalling him to touch him where he needs it. Minho presses his palm to the front, watching his expression.
“How are you feeling?”
Nodding, Jisung presses back against his hand. “G-good.”
“Any pain?”
“No,” Jisung shakes his head, watching Minho’s beautiful smile grace his face.
He straddles his waist again, leaning down to be face to face. “Told you, sweetheart.”
In the next moment, Minho reaches over him, untying the ropes on his wrists. Jisung stretches his limbs out, then timidly places them on Minho’s shoulders. His eyes are watching his every move with careful expression, but the only thing Jisung is thinking about is his lips, so inviting. He pulls his body up, reaches for his face.
It stings when Minho denies him with his finger pressed to his mouth. Confused, Jisung whimpers in protest, unsatisfied with the kiss to his cheek Minho gives him instead.
“Lie down for me,” he commands when he pulls back.
With a pout on his face, Jisung does as he is told. He makes himself comfortable on the sheets, his hands exploring all of the little wounds and bites Minho decorated his skin with. Some are still bleeding a little, but most of them have started to close already, healing with unnatural speed.
Jisung breaths heavily when Minho brings his attention back to his lap. He undoes the button on the front, pulls the jeans down and discards them onto the floor. Suddenly, Jisung realizes that he is almost fully naked while Minho hasn’t lost a single piece of clothing yet.
His unsteady fingers find their way to the hem of Minho’s blouse, tugging it up. Minho seizes his wrists, pulling them to his mouth instead to place kisses on his knuckles. With one swift movement, he shrugs off the shirt, and Jisung can’t deny that the heat in his stomach intensifies when he sees his naked chest.
Minho’s skin is ghostly white, contrasting strongly with the bright colour of his eyes, his dark lips. His eyes locked on his body, Jisung protests when Minho tries to lean back to his lap and out of view.
“Wait, please,” he says with urgency. “I want to look at you a moment longer.”
For the first time, Jisung hears and sees Minho swallow, his throat bobbing. When he catches his gaze, his eyes are filled with astonishment, his face void of his usual confident look. He watches Jisung watch him, unblinking.
Something strange appears in his eyes when he reaches his hand out to grab Jisung’s face. He tilts his head up, saying, “I don’t have all night, darling. Quit staring.”
Jisung would argue that if Minho can stare at his naked body, so can he, but he doesn’t want to argue with him. The expression in his eyes is stern, but still soft enough to make him feel comfortable. Maybe Minho just doesn’t like being ogled, Jisung ponders.
While Minho keeps his attention on his face, he sneakily reaches down to press his hands against the bulge in his boxers. Jisung arches up, their noses brushing as Minho grabs him through the material where a damp patch has formed on the front.
“So wet already,” Minho sighs out. “I can’t wait to be inside you, Jisung.”
The moan rips out of his throat, his thighs squeezing Minho’s hand on instinct. His eyes slip down to his lips, and this time, he finds the courage to ask for what he wants.
“Kiss me, Minho, please.”
The strange look returns to his face, but Minho is quick to cover it with a smirk this time. He brushes his lips against his nose, leaving little kisses all over his cheeks as he continues to palm his hard cock through his boxers. He kisses his forehead, his temples, anywhere but his lips.
Jisung is about to ask, to demand a proper kiss, but he is caught of guard when Minho pulls his boxers down until they are hitting the floor below the bed, his cock springing free. He feels exposed, heart is racing, and Jisung is suddenly very aware of his nudeness.
His hands shoot down to cover himself, bumping into Minho’s hand in the process. Closing his eyes, he doesn’t see Minho’s displeased expression when he tuts at him.
“No hiding from me, sweetheart,” Jisung hears, his lips to the shell of his ear. “Why would you want to hide how beautiful you look?”
It takes more sweet words for Jisung to blink his eyes open, and even more kisses to his skin to take his hands away. Minho is surprisingly patient with him, after saying that he doesn’t have all night. Jisung starts to get confused by his actions, but he can’t deny that when Minho touches him with no barrier left, he explodes with euphoria.
“Ah-ah, fuck!”
Minho sets a languid tempo, his small hand pumping his leaking cock. Jisung’s nails dig into the cold skin of his back, leaving little scratches behind as Minho picks up his speed.
“You are doing perfect, sweetheart,” Minho praises him, eyes locked on his blissed expression. “So whiny for me.”
Jisung watches as Minho sucks a mark into his chest, eyes flashing dark red when he pierces his skin and drinks. He takes only a few gulps, then moves down his body to be face to face with his cock.
When he starts kissing his thighs, Jisung reaches his hand out to tangle into his blonde locks, smiling to himself as he hears Minho groan with content. Curious, Jisung brings his hand back to touch the fresh bite mark on his chest, gathering few drops of blood on his fingers.
He knows he has captured Minho’s attention when the hand on his cock stills and his lips leave his skin. Jisung brings his bloody digits to his lips, smearing the fluid on his bottom one, thinking that maybe it will entice Minho into kissing him. When Jisung looks down between his legs, Minho’s eyes are wild, shining bright red.
Jisung maintains eye contact as he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. The taste is nowhere near sweet as Minho has described, only the strong taste of iron coats his buds. He swallows anyway, making sure Minho sees his throat bob.
Jisung can hear him breathe, now, like he is forcing himself to stay planted where he is. His fangs dig into his bottom lip, making it bleed in small rivulets down his chin. From the awestruck look on his face, Jisung thinks that Minho doesn’t even know he is hurting himself.
In the next moment, he seems to shake out of his trance when Jisung squirms, his hard cock still in his unmoving hand. Minho crawls up, eyes burgundy red and lit with desire. Without any warning, his teeth sink into his neck, and Jisung can tell that this is the first time when he isn’t biting him for pleasure, but actually feeding on him.
The sting starts as painful, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Jisung moans repeatedly, his stomach coiling with heat, his cock pulsating as the liquid pleasure courses through his veins. He pulls Minho closer by his waist, pressing their bodies together, which seems to bring him back to reality.
Popping of his neck, Minho licks the wound to make sure it’s going to heal faster. When he tilts his head up, his eyes are back to golden brown, but a pang of fear strikes Jisung’s heart when he pierces him with his cold stare.
“Don’t you ever do that again.”
His voice is void of any previous gentleness, causing Jisung to panic further. He suddenly remembers he is looking into the eyes of a predator, remembering that his life could be taken away from him in a second. Shuddering under his gaze, Jisung whispers a tiny apology, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
Registering his distraught, Minho brings his hand to his face, but he doesn’t caress his cheek when Jisung flinches at the gesture. Something akin to sadness passes over his eyes, laced with honest regret, if Jisung had to guess. Minho brings his lips to kiss his nose, knocking their foreheads together.
“Please, don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Just… just don’t do it again, okay? I…,” Minho trails off, his voice losing its characteristic steadiness, almost like he is pleading with him. “I almost lost control when I saw you do that.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Jisung squeaks out again, voice shaky.
“Shh, you are okay. You are perfect, Jisungie,” he coddles him, kissing his cheeks. Jisung wishes Minho would just kiss him.
Jisung starts to relax again when Minho drags his teeth over his skin, sucking here and there, but mostly pressing little wet kisses all over his naked chest. When Minho puts his hand on him again, little moans form on Jisung’s tongue, one after the other. He cranes his neck down, watching as Minho pumps him with his fresh blood coating his lips.
Rolling out his tongue, Minho doesn’t look away from his face as he takes his cock into his mouth. Jisung squirms with pleasure, the burning fire igniting every inch of his skin. His hips buckle up involuntarily, but Minho stops him in time, strong hand on his pelvis.
The precum mixes with his blood as Minho takes turns between sucking him off and kissing his shaft. Jisung fists the sheets, surprised when he notices that Minho’s touch is no longer cold. It seems that the more he drinks, the more he warms up inside.
His cheeks even flush the tiniest bit of red as he swallows around him, lips stretched around his base. Jisung lets him know how much he likes it by letting his moans out of his mouth without control. Minho’s tongue swirls around him, and Jisung has a hard time stopping himself from coming.
It seems like Minho’s goal is just that, though; Jisung is certain he must hear how loud his heart is beating, how his body is sweating more the closer he is to orgasm. Minho doubles down, paying extra attention to his cockhead on every slide up and down. When Jisung finally comes down his throat, it’s the hardest he has ever done in his life.
The afterglow is beautiful, nothing but pleasure and sweet praises. Jisung is lost in his head, registering only the moment Minho pops off his cock, then moves to his thighs to drink some more. Jisung can’t explain it, but even when Minho feeds on him, he looks like the most beautiful person he has ever seen.
“Sweetheart,” comes Minho’s voice from somewhere above him. Blinking away the post-orgasm haze, Jisung refocuses on his face. “Turn on your belly for me, can you do that?”
Jisung doesn’t question anything. He smiles at him dumbly, grins when he catches Minho off guard by licking the stray drop of cum on his ching. It’s not even close to a kiss, but Jisung still takes pride in being able to surprise him.
As instructed, Jisung lies on his stomach. He feels the mattress dip under him, hearing the telltale sign of Minho shrugging off his pants. When he comes back to bed, he is fully naked and Jisung can’t help himself but look over his shoulder.
In that moment, he knows that describing him as beautiful would be an insult. His marble skin, strong thighs and lithe body is straight out of a sculptor’s dream, the muse to every artist that has ever lived. Minho catches him staring again, moving with inhumane speed to tower over him.
He throws his leg over his body, Jisung’s waist between his thighs. His hard cock presses into the cleft of his ass, and Jisung starts moving away instinctively, feeling anxious about the unknown feeling. Minho weights him down by pressing his chest to his back, whispering into his ears.
“I promise you it’s going to feel very good, there is nothing to worry your pretty head about, okay? Relax for me.”
Jisung tries to do as he is told, but he only truly begins relaxing when Minho sucks new marks into his skin. His bites are shallow, nowhere near as deep as the one on his neck after Minho saw him licking his blood-stained fingers. Jisung can tell these bites are for pleasure, for making sure it’s not going to hurt.
Minho kisses all the way down to his lower back. Jisung jumps a little when he feels his hand pulling his asscheeks apart, but Minho rewards him for his docility with another bite, this time taking more than few gulps.
Haziness clouds his mind, and the next time Minho touches him between his legs, he only shudders with anticipation. Jisung feels hot breath fanning over his entrance, and when Minho’s wet tongue prods at him, he lets out a cry so loud he surprises even himself.
Chuckling, Minho kisses him right between his cheeks. The unfamiliar feeling of someone touching him there is scary at first, but as Minho litters small kisses all over his tender skin, the faster it becomes pleasurable, arousing. Jisung goes limp on the sheets, completely at Minho’s mercy.
After Jisung becomes accustomed to the feeling, Minho doesn’t waste any second. He licks over him several times before he pushes his tongue and starts fucking him with his mouth. It gets wet in no time, lewd sounds echoing through the bedroom.
Jisung feels his cock getting hard again, rubbing against the sheets. His breathing gets laboured as Minho doesn’t stop to lick inside, eliciting his own sounds of pleasure. It’s when Minho tightens his bruising hold on his thighs and brings him closer, does Jisung realize that the initial burn he thought he would feel never came.
When Jisung feels like he is going to burst for the second time, he props himself on his elbows and begins to crawl away.
“Min-ho, I think I-I’ ready,” he stutters as his hands give up under him, body collapsing onto the mattress.
Minho registers his laboured breathing, his unfocused eyes meeting his. He helps Jisung turn on his side gently, then gets up from where he has been sitting between his legs to reach for the tray with the unfinished tea. Jisung thinks he is going to make him drink again, and he already prepares his protests of not feeling any pain, but instead, Minho hands him several plastic-wrapped chocolate sweets.
“We need to raise your blood sugar,” he says with a soft smile. “Your body can’t keep up with the blood loss anymore.”
Dumbstruck, Jisung takes the candy from him, his lips parted in disbelief. He is still staring at him when he pops the chocolate into his mouth.
“What?” Minho demands, not unkindly.
“I never thought you would be so nice.”
“I’m not nice, Jisung,” he disagrees instantly, his face hardening. “I just don’t want you to die.”
“That’s still nice of you, because you care.”
Minho huffs like he did just about half an hour ago when Jisung refused to drink his tea for the first time. He plops himself down next to where he is laying on his side, fingers carding through Jisung’s hair.
“That’s the blood loss talking, sweetheart. Eat some more, okay?”
Jisung doesn’t try to argue with him, even though Minho’s sentence just proved his point. He munches on his chocolates, feeling his body regaining its strength. The blissful feeling of Minho’s venom flowing through his veins is still there, but now, on top of feeling refreshed, his excitement is slowly returning back as well.
While he gets through the rest of his candy, Minho’s eyes scan his naked body. He is staring again, but Jisung uses his distraction to his advantage and asks, “Why won’t you kiss me?”
Minho scoffs, eyes turning back to his face. “I’ve kissed you plenty.”
“You know what I mean,” Jisung rolls his eyes at him. “Why won’t you kiss me on the lips?”
“You are asking too much questions again.”
“That’s because I want to know why.”
“Don’t make me reconsider my promise of not killing you.”
Jisung shakes his head, blaming his new found bravery on the sugar rush. “You wouldn’t kill me.”
Maybe it’s the sure tone of his voice, maybe he is acting a little presumptuous because in the next second, Minho is pushing him down into the mattress with his entire body weight. Jisung gasps, surprised when Minho’s eyes flash dark red.
“I’m not your ordinary hook-up, darling,” he growls. “I could kill you with one bite, with one less-than-careful touch, do you understand?”
To emphasize his words, Minho brings his hand up and wraps it around his throat. Jisung’s heart is beating like crazy, adrenalin making his lungs forget how to work properly. Still, he decides to be reckless just to prove his point.
“Why don’t you kill me, then? Why are you bothering with all of this?”
Minho’s fangs look dangerously sharp when he brings his face closer.
“Because I like the way virgins taste,” he answers without a hitch, like he practiced those words in his head beforehand. “And I want to be the one who defiles your sweet innocence.”
Before Jisung can probe further and ask him why he wants his virginity, he feels cold air on his neck, right where Minho first fed from him. The bite hasn’t healed completely, but Minho still digs his fangs into the skin, drinking some more.
Jisung’s fight starts leaving his body, and he tries to push Minho off of him with his hands on his chest. He doesn’t stop drinking, even though Jisung can tell he is pacing himself. Placing kisses where he is still bleeding slightly, Minho pulls away after a while, his eyes back to their golden-brown colour.
His pupils are dilated, and Jisung can feel that eerie feeling again, like he did when he looked at the house from up close or when he was searching the ground floor. His eyes begin to sting, but he can’t look away from Minho’s captivating gaze.
“Please, forget that you want to kiss me, Jisungie.”
The moment Jisung hears his words, his mind goes blank. He stares at him dumbly, jaw slack and at loss for words. He thinks he sees sadness in Minho’s eyes, but when he reaches for his face with his hand, his expression changes into a soft smile, and Jisung’s heart leaps in his chest when he nuzzles into the touch.
Jisung looks to his lips, but before he can even think of bringing Minho closer, the vampire uses the grip he has on his waist, carefully manhandling him on his hands and knees. Jisung yelps when he feels Minho’s fingers between his thighs, circling his wet rim.
“Are you ready, sweet thing?”
“Y-yeah,” he sighs out, preparing himself to feel him inside. “I want you, Minho.”
Jisung relaxes his body as much as possible, one of Minho’s hands wrapping around his waist to keep him in place. He feels his leaking cock nudge at his entrance, Minho’s fangs breaking the skin on his shoulder. He bites him as he pushes inside, causing Jisung to whine at the pressure and the bliss that fills his veins.
It’s uncomfortable at first as Minho continues to push his cock deeper, but Jisung is relieved that he can’t feel any pain. He trusted Minho when he said that he would make it painless, but the inexperienced part of him still feared what it would feel like.
But after Minho bottoms out and starts placing kisses on the tender spot where he drew blood, Jisung’s body completely surrenders to the euphoria that erupts in his core. It’s like is almost natural, having Minho inside him, with the joy and content he is feeling right now.
“You are so warm, fuck,” Minho curses for the first time, his cold chest flushed to his back. Jisung can feel him so deep inside, so stuffed that he thinks Minho won’t be able to move.
They stay unmoving for a few moments, until Jisung is able to catch his breath and get used to the intrusion. He places a hand over his tummy, pleasantly surprised when Minho interlocks their fingers. It’s tender and sweet, and when Jisung gives him the green light, Minho pulls out and thrusts back in with full force.
The pressure is exhilarating, and soon Jisung begs for more. Minho keeps them locked in position, holding Jisung up when his pace gains more force. He whispers sweet words into his ear the whole time, kisses him on his nape when Jisung starts crying from the pleasure.
“You are doing so good, Jisung. You mould around me so well,” he praises, causing Jisung’s heart to soar into the sky.
His hole starts clenching around Minho after a while with his relentless pounding. Hearing him groan behind his back, Jisung momentarily regrets not seeing his pleased face. He looks over his shoulder with great effort as his body is being jostled by his thrusts, trying to catch his gaze.
His eyes are glued to where they are connected, making Jisung blush profusely when he realizes that Minho has been staring at him like that for who knows how long. To capture his attention, he starts meeting his thrusts, grinding on his cock when Minho flushes his whole body to him.
When their eyes meet, Jisung has the unquenchable desire to pull him down and kiss him senseless. The need to do so comes at him with crushing speed, making him choke on his breath. The intensity of that thought makes his thighs shake, his muscles go taut to keep him in upright position. Minho notices his body giving up on him, swiftly pulling him back by the hand on his belly.
Sitting back on his thighs, Minho presses his body to his chest, his chin resting in the crook of his neck, waiting for him to catch his breath. His cock is so deep him that Jisung can feel him throbbing in his insides so vividly that the thought alone almost brings him over the edge.
Tilting his head to the side, Jisung is once again happy when he sees the slight blush on Minho’s face. It’s unbearably cute, and he can’t help himself but place a soft kiss right above the left corner of his mouth. Minho looks surprised, his lips parting with a sigh. Jisung knows he doesn’t need to breathe, which makes the gesture even sweeter.
“I…,” Jisung begins, not really sure what he intended to say. His eyes slip down to his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them.
Before he can crash his mouth onto Minho’s, the hand holding him by his waist sneaks down to his neglected cock. Jisung whimpers, eyes falling shut as Minho starts pumping him, this time in tandem with his thrusts. The assault on his prostate is too much for him to handle, and he knows that it’s not going to take much for him to give in to the feeling.
“Minho, I…,”
“Come, Jisungie,” Minho whispers, eyes glued to his face. “I’ll catch you, sweetheart.”
Jisung’s body convulses with the force of his orgasm, his soul leaving his body. He is riding his high, but he still can tell the precise moment Minho comes inside him, his expression so lovely and unguarded. While Jisung is trying to catch his breath, Minho lowers down his head to kiss his neck, biting gently.
New wave of pleasure floods his body as Minho’s venom enters his blood stream, making his high as twice as blissful. He feeds from him some more, and while being distracted, Jisung brushes the blonde strands from his forehead, eyes close and lips freshly painted with blood.
He doesn’t look away, not as Minho drinks and not even when he catches him staring right after. The blood streaks down to his chin, matching his red eyes. He has never remained him of a vampire more than now, but still, when Jisung cards his hand through his hair, he sees nothing but unfathomable beauty.
“You are so beautiful,” Jisung whispers under his breath. Watching as his eyes change slowly from red to brown, he asks him, “How do I taste now?”
Minho stares at him intensely, mapping every inch of his face. He begins to gently pull out his softened cock, helping Jisung lay down on the sheets. He instantly misses his body, reaching his hands to bring him closer.
Surprised, Minho rests a hand on his chest, laying on his side. Raising his eyebrows at him, Jisung patiently waits for his answer.
“You taste like the sun, Jisung.”
He can’t decipher the look in his eyes, so he asks just to be sure. “Oh, is that a good thing or…? Wouldn’t the sun hurt someone like you?”
That seems to get him out of his reverie, his lips spreading into a radiant smile.
“I’m sensitive to the sun, but it doesn’t hurt me. I like being in its vicinity.”
Minho places a tender kiss into his hair, and Jisung’s heart speeds up at the gesture, his skin tingling. The moment stretches on, but it ends too soon anyway when Minho pulls back and gets off the bed.
Before Jisung can ask him where he is going, his vampiric speed surprises him once again. One moment he is gone, and the other he is by his side with a heated towel, looking between his legs with a hint of guilt in his eyes.
“You are bleeding a little, sweetheart," he whispers, his tone soothing. "I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”
Feeling the soft towel on his rim, Jisung looks down and sees little streaks of blood on the white sheets, mixed with Minho’s cum. It’s weird, seeing that he is bleeding while not feeling any pain, but he doesnt complain as Minho’s attentive hands take care of him.
To be sure he heals fast, Jisung allows him to lie between his legs again, squirming with oversensitivity as he slips his tongue inside. Minho alternates between kissing his abused skin and licking his rim, his hands caressing his sides gently. When he pulls away, the tender expression in his eyes makes the heat coil in Jisung’s lower belly again.
“Sorry I ripped your shirt,” Minho says, his tone rather impish than apologetic, as he brings the towel to wipe the rest of his body. “I brought you some of mine, you can keep it.”
When he is done cleaning the cum and the dried drops of blood, Minho hands him the simple black tee, gathering his jeans from the floor. Jisung’s heart clenches when he realizes that it’s over, that Minho is politely telling him to get out of his house.
“Thanks,” he utters after Minho hands him his clothes.
It the next moment, he is dressed, too, his blouse and those loose pants. Jisung tries to not look disappointed too much, but it’s hard, going from wanting to feel his body on his again to feeling like Minho has just ripped his heart out and left a hollow cavity behind.
“Jisungie, are you okay?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, ‘am just tired,” he lies, sitting at the edge of the bed.
Minho reaches for some more chocolates laying on the tray, pushing them into his hand. Jisung unwraps them dejectedly, avoiding Minho’s gaze for the first time ever. He is surprised when Minho parts his legs to stand closer to him, placing his hand on his cheek and tilting his head up.
“Thank you for making that stupid bet that brought you to me, darling. But I think we should say goodbye now, because I can hear your friends trying to get through the gate outside. I’ve kept you from them long enough already.”
Jisung frowns at his words, trying and failing to hear any other voices or sounds. Minho pulls him by his hand, making Jisung stand up from the canopy bed to go look out of the bedroom window. Just as he has said, Jisung sees four figures standing by the iron gate, trying to climb over it but with no success.
“Why they don’t just push it open like I did?” Jisung wonders out loud.
“It’s locked. They can’t get inside if they don’ pass through it.”
“How is that possible?”
Minho flicks his eyes to him, his hand still clutching his. Jisung thinks he already knows the answer, but his lips part with surprise anyway when Minho confirms it.
“The house is enchanted. The protection spell won’t let them in.”
“So how come I got through without any problem?”
“Because you didn’t trespass with ill intentions.”
Jisung looks back to his friends uncomprehendingly, but he doesn’t have to ask for Minho to elaborate. “They are worried about you which is making them angry that they can’t get in. The house doesn’t like that.”
“I can go tell them that everything’s fine,” Jisung says in a hopeful tone. “I can come back here to you after I send them home.”
Minho chuckles, but the gesture lacks joy and any trace of gentleness. He turns from the window to face him, his eyes caught on his lips.
“No, darling. They can’t know that I live here, and so can’t you.”
“What? What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung asks, sounding more than confused.
Minho brings him closer, dropping his hand so he can frame his face with both of his palm. He looks insurmountably sad, but his voice is soft and levelled when he speaks.
“The reason why I couldn’t kiss you is because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let you go. And it would kill me when I would have to erase your memories and condemn myself to being the only one who could never be able to forget how sweet your kiss is.”
Jisung begins to panic, trying two squirm his way out of his embrace. “Erase my memories? What are you talking about, Minho?”
“I’m so sorry, Jisung.”
The gold in his brown eyes begins to shine intensely as his pupils dilate, and despite trying to fight his way out of his hold, Jisung can do nothing but stare in trance.
“Forget that you have ever met me, Jisungie. Forget what I look like, forget my name. When you do that, I want you to fall asleep, okay?”
Upon hearing his words, Jisung’s wild heartbeat beings to slow down. His breathing gets calmer, his legs feeling like jelly. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is a single tear rolling down someone’s face, and he doesn’t know why the hurt he feels follows him to his dreams.
✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧
They find Jisung sleeping below the stairs in the hallway when the iron gate finally gives in and they storm inside the haunted house.
Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin and Seungmin fly through the open door, screaming their friend’s name when they finally see him. Gentle hands wind around his body while someone places his ear over his mouth to hear him breathe.
“Fuck, he is okay, he’s breathing.”
“Why isn’t he waking up then?!”
“Maybe he has a concussion.”
“Fuck, what are we going to do now?”
“Should we take him to the hospital?”
“All of us were drinking, we can’t drive under influence.”
“Fuck.”
Jisung is woken up by too many voices speaking at once. His head throbs, and his loud friends are not exactly helping with easing the pain in his frontal lobe. He blinks his eyes slowly, and the collective gasps finally make everyone go silent.
Then, Chan’s concerned voice whispers above his head. “Jisungie, hey bud. How are you feeling?”
His mouth is dry, his throat parched like the desert. “I’ve been better,” he says truthfully, his hand coming reflexively to the back of his neck. “I think I must have fallen down the stairs.”
Someone’s hand rakes through his hair gently, and it’s Changbin’s voice that he hears next.
“We are never letting you out of our sight again.”
Jisung chuckles, opening his eyes properly. Four relieved faces hover above him, Chan’s being the closest one. He realizes he is lying in his lap when he moves to prop himself up on his elbows, but searing pain shoots through his being, making him lie back.
Jisung rubs his temples with his hands, vaguely remembering fragments of this crazy dream he had. He certainly knows that there was a cat, black as the night with the ability to change the colour of its eyes. He remembers hearing somebody laugh so beautifully he thinks he might have conjured that part on his own just now.
“Jisungie,” comes Hyunjin’s guilty voice. “Can you stand up? Let’s get you out of this creepy house.”
Looking around, Jisung is surprised to see white walls, the hallway void of any kind of furniture or decorations. He feels like he should expect lit candles and steaming mugs of tea, even though he knows that it doesn’t make any sense.
“It’s haunted, not creepy, Jinnie,” he protests as Chan and Changbin help to haul him up to his feet.
They hold him all the way back through the courtyard. Seungmin is standing by the open gate, eying the iron bars suspiciously as each one of them passes through. Before Jisung can follow his friends, he shoots one last look at the villa standing behind him. He looks up to the highest window, his eyes itching without explanation. When he sees a shadow move behind the glass, his heart jumps in his chest.
“Do you remember anything, Sung? What did it look like inside?”
They trudge down the hill, his feet getting steadier with every step. Chan still keeps looking at him though, offering his silent support, his hand keeps touching his lower back.
“Um, I actually didn’t see much to be honest. There was a lot of rooms, some with fireplaces but no furniture whatsoever. It looked kinda nice, though.”
Hyunjin squeaks out, “I’m glad there wasn’t anything to take back as proof now that I’ve seen it up close. It’s really scary. I’m sorry I dared you to go.”
“You came for me Jinnie, all of you. I’m alright now.”
“Of course we did, dummy.”
Hyunjin finds his hand, squeezes it in his once, twice before he lets go. The moon is high up in the sky, illuminating their path home. When a gentle breeze blows through Jisung’s hair, something compels him to look back at the retreating house.
A little shadow standing in front of the iron gate catches his attention. He slows down his steps, trying to focus his eyes. The shape moves gracefully, but it takes Jisung a while before his eyes can see its full outline.
The cat sits down when it sees Jisung halt his steps. Its furry tail swishes from side to side, and the feline tilts its head, seemingly trapped in a contemplative mood. Jisung doesn’t know why, but the feeling of familiarity floods his mind when their eyes meet.
Vibrantly yellow meets his brown, and Jisung can’t shake off the feeling of eeriness that floods his system.
“Jisungie, you alright?” He hears Changbin ask somewhere from his side.
He nods his head, but doesn’t turn away from the cat.
“Yeah, I just thought I saw something.”
“Maybe we should confiscate your collection of slasher movies for a while, what do you think?”
Jisung elbows Chan in his side for his remark. “Over my dead body.”
“No talking about dead bodies, please!” Hyunjin begs them, his hands plastered to his face in desperation. “I will seriously punch every one of you if you are going to joke about it tonight.”
And so, with laughter and relief coursing through their veins, Jisung and his friends make their way back to his house. They huddle up close on the living room floor, pulling out their sleeping bags and stealing the softest cushions from the couch that has become Jisung’s bed for tonight.
When his eyes finally close and he is plunged into his dreams, the picture he sees behind his eyelids stays the same the whole night. He dreams about the boy from his grandmother’s fairytale, seeing the true colour of his golden-brown eyes for the first time.