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“Okay, repeat that for me because I don’t think I heard that correctly. How the fuck is this rational? You’re being absolutely ridiculous and also a bad boy by wasting your hyung’s precious time. I’m hanging up.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. He’s been observing his neighbor for months, with his thick tree trunk thighs and devil may care attitude. This Namjoon dude keeps weird hours, is almost always dressed head to toe in formalwear, and is weirdly outspoken during their condo association meetings every month. Just…a whole lot of weird that Jungkook has no idea how to process.
So far he’s deduced three things, and these things Jungkook Jeon is absolutely sure of:
1. The electoral college is kind of fake and he secretly wants to move to some red county in Florida to make his vote count for more (Jungkook thinks he’d be fucking awesome at playing the role of ~exotic pool boy~ to some old white folks).
2. Those frozen chocolate covered raspberries he saw on Tik Tok are absolutely worth the $4.99 he had to shell over at Target the other day, like he will gladly let his neighbor suck him dry (blood-wise, and definitely dick-wise, too) in exchange for a lifetime supply.
And:
3. His hot, ultra sexy, kind of mysterious, but also kind of dorky neighbor, Namjoon Kim, is probably a vampire.
(4. A bonus, because Jungkook loves the sound of his own voice: He’s trying really fucking hard to not use so many commas in real life and in his head. It’s going disastrously, and Jimin is probably ten seconds away from putting him on a comma ban. The horror.)
“Hear me out,” Jungkook tries to argue, but Seokjin beats him to the punch.
“Absolutely not. I’ve lost at least a dozen brain cells listening to you and your ludicrous ideas. I can’t afford to lose anymore when my boyfriend needs me to keep him alive most days.”
Jungkook hears a, hey, I heard that! from the other end. Frankly he thinks it’s well deserved, considering this hyung is the worst and he both loves and hates him with his entire heart.
“Speaking of living and dying—“
“No.”
“Namjoon—“
“No.”
“Is probably a vampire, hyung!”
The line clicks. Jungkook pulls his shitty iPhone 7 to his face and squints. All he sees is the fan art of Iwaizumi and Oikama in fluffy down coats under a street light in the snow that he set as his background a few weeks ago. Immediately, he is appeased.
The thing is, Jungkook knows better than to go about touting unfounded claims like he did during college. Sure, he thought Bigfoot was real—didn’t everyone have a phase like that at some point in their lives? And yeah, maybe some people believe the ripple in time theory surrounding the Berenstein Bears (not the Berenstain Bears) is a fad, but Jungkook is in that shit for life.
His neighbor is weird. He actually has time to take care of the tiny community garden at the center of their block and genuinely brings up really good questions whenever Marina threatens to raise HOA fees again.
Plus he’s super hot, his mind adds, but in an out of this world kind of way. Not a worldwide handsome way, or even the mysteriously beautiful way Taehyung has about him. Every pore of Namjoon’s body exudes power and beauty and glory, and it terrifies the shit out of Jungkook most times.
Other times, it leaves him with a guilty boner he should really be more ashamed about taking care of.
-
The other thing about Namjoon Kim, inhabitant of the condo 4E to Jungkook’s 4C, is that he’s really nice. He always nods at Jungkook whenever they meet in the foyer, and brings over homemade hotteok around the holidays. Jungkook tried some back when he was young and naive, and even then it had been delicious. He still thinks about the way the warm sugar had slid down his throat, reminding him of weekends spent working with his grandma in the street market back in Korea.
And the only reason he’s thinking about the perfection of Namjoon is because of what’s happened just now: Jungkook had been leaving his place to head to the airport when he’d run into the tall, handsome man unlocking his own door. Namjoon had given Jungkook a tired smile and a gentle wave, all while Jungkook waved back and had tried to find some semblance of normal. Cool. Unaffected.
And that’s what kind of strikes Jungkook as fishy. A little strange, deviating quite a ways from what anyone might consider normal. Namjoon’s face was clean shaven, his starched dress shirt tucked into equally starched slacks. He looked like the Korean version of Armie Hammer minus the facial hair and white male part. No one is allowed to look that good coming from god knows where at three in the morning.
So Jungkook has also come up with a list of reasons why Namjoon is perfect. Too perfect.
1. Namjoon is always getting in from somewhere in the early hours of the morning. His eyes are tired but alight with contentment, and his clothes don’t even have that rumple from being tossed on the floor à la one night stand. In fact, they look even more pressed and tidy than Jungkook’s do on most occasions.
(One time, Jungkook had been trying and failing to fit his suitcase in his trunk at 4am and Namjoon had wordlessly walked up to perfectly finesse it in a beautiful Tetris move. This was also the only instance in which Namjoon also pushed a hand through his hair to rumple it up just so before shooting Jungkook a nod and heading into their building.
It is hands down the sexiest thing Jungkook has ever seen in his entire life. And he went to see Chris Evans on Broadway last year.)
2. Namjoon’s face is always clean shaven. Like, as an Asian man himself, Jungkook knows their kind is generally on the can grow a beard but it looks really shitty and patchy side versus the Wicker Park hipsters they live amongst. But it’s still a testament to the fact that he must’ve stopped aging years ago and physically cannot grow a beard considering he's dead. Undead. Whatever.
3. This is the one guy who actually cares about each plant in their community garden and has little popsicle sticks to mark every one of them by name. WIlbur the tomato plant, Poppy the pepper plant, and for awhile Jungkook thinks each perilla bush had been named after a Twice member before there grew to be more than ten. No person, living or dead, is allowed to be this cute.
And then there's the one big thing that convinces Jungkook otherwise:
1. Namjoon often has random blood stains on his clothes whenever they meet in the lobby in the quiet twilight hours. (Ha, Twilight.) It makes no sense why Isha or Marjorie or even Nick haven’t brought it up as a safety concern yet, especially when a grand total of seven people live in their building. It could be a matter of Jungkook being the only one who’s witnessed it, so he makes a mental note (and inputs it into his notes app before he forgets) to bring it up at the next board meeting.
Jungkook does not bring it up at the next board meeting. In fact, he ends up sitting right next to Namjoon, who stumbles in late with warm apologies and a charming grin as he takes the last free seat literally three inches away from Jungkook. They share some of the peanut butter cookies Marjorie and her twin boys brought, and Namjoon even leans over to mumble quiet jokes about how Isha and Nick must be fucking considering how often they keep touching each other.
It takes everything in Jungkook to keep from shuddering as the hot air reaches the shell of his ear.
But Jungkook is an adult. He can do this. He meets and presents C-suite executives with new strategies and proposals every week; there’s no way this vampire dude should be so fucking intimidating.
“So what you’re telling me is that you’ve resorted to writing Twilight fanfic in your free time, right?” is what Taehyung says after Jungkook squarely beats him in Super Mario Brothers. Again. Jungkook has a suspicion that Taehyung is letting him win to get a free meal out of him, but he doesn’t begrudge him that. Their favorite butter paneer at Ghareeb is second to none on top of being dirt cheap, and Jungkook luckily doesn’t have to worry about pinching pennies anymore.
“Shut up, I’m working on way too many M&A’s to even think about writing fic right now. Plus I still have to read that figging fic you sent me like, two weeks ago.”
Taehyung smiles dreamily and immediately Jungkook knows he’s fucked up. It’s the I totally tried that with Seokjin hyung and it was awesome smile that Jungkook hates on principle alone. He will never look at ginger the same way ever again.
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it, bubs. But back to your conundrum. Your issue. Your dilemma.”
Jungkook shakes his head and shucks his controller to the side. He gets out his phone and opens up DoorDash as Taehyung continues.
“It’s not a problem, really. Just a conjecture I have that I shouldn’t be so fixated on when my boss is asking me for a P&L.”
“Uh, easy fix. Just stop thinking about it during work hours, duh. Also stop using corporate lingo in my house. I can feel my soul dying bit by bit. Soon it'll be like yours.” Taehyung chides. “But anyways. Jin hyung was telling me about how your mega hot neighbor is probably a vampire and I think I have a solution for you.”
As good as the dal looks today, Jungkook knows Taehyung won’t tell him jack shit if he doesn’t order their usual. He adds the butter paneer with an order each of the regular chicken biryani and chili chicken biryani before finally looking back up at Taehyung.
“Whaddya got for me?” Jungkook asks, not entirely sure if he should be afraid of the all-too menacing glint in his best friend’s eyes. Luckily it isn’t the same voice he used earlier, because what he says next sends honest to god chills down Jungkook’s spine.
“Blood.”
Jungkook clicks Place Order and sets his phone to the side.
“Tell me everything.”
-
The plan that Jungkook and Taehyung end up formulating over dinner might be one for the ages, the best one this tag team has ever seen. Infinitely better than Prank Jimin Month 2017, hands down.
They’re finalizing details—Taehyung drawing elaborate diagrams and floor plans on Procreate while Jungkook googles where to buy a wooden cross—when there’s the unmistakable sound of keys sliding into the front door.
“Taehyung-ah, I’m home!” A voice calls, and within seconds an Apple pencil is thrown at Jungkook’s face as Taehyung himself scurries to meet his boyfriend.
Jungkook rolls his eyes and sets his phone on the coffee table to join the empty takeout containers before standing to greet Seokjin as he enters the living room.
“Are you guys full? I should’ve known you guys were ordering in before getting food, too,” Seokjin laments, raising his plastic bag in the air. Jungkook is stuffed to the brim with paneer and parathas alike, but the smell of whatever it is Seokjin’s brought rouses him from his heartburn.
Taehyung hangs off Seokjin’s hands and presses little kisses all over his lips. Jungkook bites back a laugh when he sees the unmistakable smear of orange at the corner of his mouth.
“Ooh, that’s Ghareeb isn’t it? You taste delicious babe.” Seokjin sets the plastic bag of mystery and wonder on the table and takes Taehyung in his arms before dipping him to the side to swoop in with a proper kiss. Jungkook figures he has a few minutes of tongue wrestling on his side and moseys over to investigate the contents of the bag.
“Shit, hyung. What is this? It smells so fucking good,” Jungkook says to himself mostly, knowing his friends will be occupied for some time.
He unties the double knot with ease and is glad to find a flyer. Kabobi Persian & Mediterranean Grill, it reads. Jungkook gasps and immediately sets about unpacking the food. He loves Ghareeb with his entire heart, but he’s been waiting to try this restaurant for ages. Damn the stupid CTA for not having any direct routes from Jungkook’s place in Wicker all the way to Kabobi—he would so be a regular if he had a car.
“This is the worst idea you two have ever had. And I lived through Jimin month,” Seokjin says when Jungkook is nearly finished with his second round of food. Taehyung has since moved on to making himself a mug of tea and casting moony eyes at his boyfriend.
Jungkook takes another bite of the Ghormeh Sabzi, humming happily as he puts to rest all thoughts of the BDS he’ll suffer through tomorrow. Tomorrow will worry about itself, a voice tells him in his mind. It suspiciously sounds like Namjoon, but Jungkook chocks it up to the Jedi vampire mind control he’s probably invoked by now.
Tomorrow will worry about itself, indeed.
“Namjoon’s going to know it’s fake blood so make sure you mix in a few drops of your own so there’s a scent,” Taehyung had urged, so Jungkook had begrudgingly bitten on his cuticle enough to draw blood and press a drop or two into the fake blood he ordered from the costume store in Lincoln Park. Then he'd smeared some all over the hallway leading up to his front door with an old t-shirt after confirming the fake blood was indeed washable.
Now he's sitting on his couch watching The Untamed on mute, too nervous for the way Namjoon will come in and crumble into a pile of dust over the cross and raw garlic cloves Jungkook had rubbed all over his skin. Lan Zhan stares back from with his computer screen disapprovingly.
And then it begins.
There’s a banging on Jungkook’s door that sounds suspiciously strong, so Jungkook thinks it has to be Namjoon, considering the only other people on this floor are 55 year old Greta and her wife, some stoner whose mail is always addressed to Janis Joplin, Yoongi and Hoseok in the soundproofed corner apartment, and Silvia, the gorgeous girl with the sweet voice and beautiful curls that Jungkook secretly wants to touch sometimes. (He’s asked her once before and she enthusiastically let him, but he doesn’t want to seem like a creep by continuing to ask.)
“Jungkook? Open up!” He hears Namjoon call, and the banging gets louder and louder, shaking the little cross he’d nailed to the wall above his shoe rack.
“Jungkook! Are you okay?”
His and Taehyung’s plan had accounted for this, so Jungkook draws a little closer to the door, heart speeding up in anticipation. He hasn’t felt this nervous in ages, wonders if Jungkook can hear it, feel it, smell it through the walls.
“I’m coming in, if you’re anywhere near the door, watch out!”
Jungkook had not accounted for this. He reaches in his back pocket for the handy dandy cross that had come in the BOGO deal, then takes a step back and waits with his hands outstretched.
Instead, all he hears is the sound of Namjoon fitting a key through the lock and opening his front door like a normal person.
Namjoon stalks right up to Jungkook and places his hands on his face, eyes frantic and searching as they take in the sight of good old Jungkook Jeon, warm and alive in the cheap Costco sweatpants with the hole in the crotch.
“How do you have a key to my place?”
“You literally told me there was a spare under your doormat once. Plus Isha saw the blood and called.” Namjoon sniffs. “Why the hell do you smell like garlic? And…is that a cross in your hand?”
Jungkook’s shoulders lift in a slow shrug and he finds himself offering the shyest and guiltiest of smiles to his neighbor, who’s slowly looking angrier and angrier by the second.
“You aren’t going to believe this,” he tries, but Namjoon cuts him off.
“What. The fuck. Is going on.”
“You know,” Jungkook starts, and he really wants to applaud himself for being both so fucking sexy and so fucking slick. It’s a goddamn miracle. Namjoon is in his house, sitting on his couch, and Jungkook might burst.
The older vampire man had been mad for a minute or two before finally leaning his forehead against Jungkook’s. Namjoon had breathed a sigh of relief, and all Jungkook could smell was mint and pine, so it wasn't long before he was back on his bullshit. Then Namjoon had burrowed his face in Jungkook’s neck, and Jungkook had died on the spot.
(Jungkook had hoped for Namjoon to sink pointy fangs into his throat, but when he didn’t, he moved on to realize it was probably to scent him or get closer to his carotid artery or something. He can’t really confirm his suspicions with the man himself, even though he’s currently sitting on Jungkook’s couch in all his beautiful glory.)
“Yes?” Namjoon replies. He presses his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squints a little at Jungkook, and Jungkook wants to take it all back.
Nobody can be sexy when Namjoon exists. The only slick part about Jungkook is his leaky (and sadly imaginary) omega asshole that drips of glitter and something peachy, probably. Jungkook thinks his inner wolf would love Namjoon, even if they’d be destined to never be canon like Bella and Jacob.
Unless someone like Taehyung wrote fan fiction about him and Namjoon as star crossed vampire-werewolf lovers. Fuck. He really needs to stop reading every fucking AO3 link Taehyung keeps sending his way. The very same fics Taehyung claims to pull out role play ideas from, he remembers with a shudder.
(Jungkook knows he won’t. It’s his lifeline on both the bad days and the good, and he will unashamedly ask Taehyung for more Stucky fic next week when they order pizza and play Animal Crossing side by side at his place.)
“You’re kind of like Carlisle Cullen. The double C.”
Jungkook, regardless of how much he wants to say it, ultimately does not say this: You can be the Triple C, too, Hot doctor with the hot cock.
It’s a good thing he doesn’t, because Namjoon fixes him with a look.
“I literally have no clue what on earth you’re talking about.”
“You’re always dressed so formally! Who wears a button down and slacks every day? In this economy?” Jungkook shrieks. He gestures from Namjoon’s head to his toes and back again. It’s incredulous, an abomination.
Jungkook dresses business casual for work, but the moment he steps foot into his place, the slacks and Patagonia sweaters immediately make their way back into his closet to be replaced by his favorite threadbare sweats and hoodie.
No one should ever be allowed to look so fucking sexy all the time. Least of all the already super hot neighbor who would look even better with his fangs in Jungkook’s throat. Fangs that Jungkook still needs to confirm are actually real, and not just a figment of his sad, sad imagination.
Namjoon scoffs and looks to the ceiling as if he’s summoning his full power to keep from turning into a bat and flying out of here. And maybe he is.
“I’m a doctor.”
Jungkook raises his hands and rolls his eyes. “I’m a doctor,” he mocks. “How fucking convenient! You’re literally Carlisle Cullen! Of fucking course you are!”
“Who?” Namjoon squints at him. Jungkook does a quick scan of his features and deduces that the quizzical expression is a genuine one. He accounts for the possibility that Namjoon could be using his vampire abilities to sway his thoughts.
No, bad vampire! Out of here! Off with your head!
“I can’t read your mind.”
Jungkook scoffs. “Only people who could actually read my mind would say that. Which. How the hell did you know what I was thinking?”
“You literally started staring at me and put your fingers to your temple—is that not the universal sign for wanting me to read your mind?”
Hmm. Namjoon isn’t wrong, but Jungkook also doesn’t want to admit that he could be right.
“Whatever, that’s beside the point,” Jungkook huffs. He thinks he hears Namjoon snort, but he presses on. “You haven’t answered any of my questions, which is suspicious in and of itself. Who’s to say you aren’t distracting me while you think of ways to kill me in my own home?”
“It’s called being a decent person,” Namjoon deadpans. “Also, if I were theoretically whatever you think I am, it might just be a matter of evolution.”
“How do you guys evolve if you’re dead?”
“Oh my god. I’m not fucking dead.”
“I’ve read about it in Twilight!” Jungkook exclaims. “You have those sexy hazel eyes that tell me you’re a vegetarian, I just know it.”
“What? I literally had samgyupsal the other day.”
And then Namjoon does a weird thing. He reaches for his eyeball with his fingers firmly grasped in a pinching motion and Jungkook fucking screams.
“Don’t you pull out your eyeball in my house, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
It startles Namjoon enough that he pokes himself and swears at the slip of his hand.
“They’re colored contacts, you fuckwad. Oh my god, this is totally going to undo all the money I spent on Lasik last year.”
“Why the hell would you need Lasik if you have perfect vision?”
Even with one eye covered, Namjoon is still able to glare enough with the other that Jungkook shrinks in his seat. He’d thought Namjoon was immortal and untouchable in all his vampire glory, but he never really anticipated he could be wrong. Now, he’s considering it.
“What do you mean, perfect vision? I was born with shitty eyesight and it’s only gotten worse over the years,” Namjoon tries. He rubs his eye one last time before dropping his hand back to his lap, but the way he squints at Jungkook tells him he must still be in pain.
Jungkook clucks his tongue in sympathy. “Oh, that must suck considering you’re like a thousand years old by now, right?”
If looks could kill, Jungkook would easily be dead. Maybe even more dead than Namjoon, but he thinks it would be worth it if it meant feeding the nice neighbor one last time before he ceases to exist. Jungkook wonders if he also has that power to glamour him into thinking and doing whatever Namjoon wants him to.
Secretly, Jungkook thinks it'd be kind of hot, and that he would fully consent to it. He also thinks Namjoon would be the type of vampire to encounter a moral crisis over something of that nature.
“I’m literally 31.” And, oh. Right. Jungkook is having a conversation with said vampire right now, one he should probably be paying attention to considering it’s an interrogation.
“Is that how old you were when you were turned?”
Namjoon groans and kicks his feet in the air in frustration. “I’ve had like five conversations with you in my entire time living in this building. What the fuck are you talking about.”
“You’re a vampire, dude. I’m sure of it.”
The way Namjoon pales should be surprising, but it only makes Jungkook’s stomach roll uncomfortably. It’ s the moment of truth, and anxiety rises higher and higher in his chest until Namjoon finally says something.
“How the fuck did you know that?”
Jungkook blinks back at him, eyes wide. For all the confidence and determination he had literally five seconds ago, it all seems to disappear upon the basic confirmation that he indeed is correct.
He doesn’t know what to do with it.
His job literally depends on persuasion and approval and the art of winning others over, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this.
“What?”
Namjoon leans in the tiniest bit before seeming to think better of it. Instead, he looks down at the cross Jungkook still has a death grip on and the wrinkles in his face seem to loosen the tiniest bit.
“Is this why you have that cross in your hand? And why you smell like garlic? Holy shit. And the blood,” Namjoon says as he shakes his head in wonder, slowly piecing the events of the afternoon together.
“You know what real blood smells like,” is all Jungkook can say between fish-mouthing at his all but confirmed to be a vampire neighbor.
Jungkook squints and tries to see if Namjoon’s fangs are visible at all, but is sad to report he can’t see anything.
The corner of Namjoon’s lips lifts mirthlessly. “Of course I know what real blood smells like.”
“Because you’re a vampire,” Jungkook rushes to add.
“Because I work in the Emergency Department at Rush,” Namjoon finishes.
Oh.
Oh.
This is starting to make a lot of sense. The dressing real nice, knowing what blood smells like, why Jungkook keeps running into Namjoon at ass o’clock in the morning when he’s off trying to catch the earliest Blue Line train out to O’Hare.
“But you’re a vampire, I’m sure of it.”
“Well I’m certainly not denying it, am I?” Namjoon leans back against the sofa and spreads his legs the tiniest bit, so tiny that it doesn’t even register in Jungkook’s brain. Really.
The smirk Namjoon shoots him says otherwise.
“Cool. Can I ask you a question, then?”
Jungkook shoots little finger guns as he settles himself a little deeper into the couch cushions. He'll gladly answer any question Namjoon has for him, human or vampire or werewolf or whatever the fuck the man is.
“What do you do for a living? We live in a walk up in Wicker Park. Morgage prices here aren't cheap by any means, and I can’t tell if you’re a new grad with rich parents or one of those young tech guys who make like 150k to fuck around on Botox or Tik Tok or whatever.”
Jungkook frowns. “Do you mean Roblox? I tried being a Tik Tok creator but gave up when I had like, ten videos to over ten million views and only got fifteen dollars to show for it. I’m a consultant, though.”
“Wow,” Namjoon breathes, and Jungkook thinks he sees the older man adjust his belt buckle as he lets out a low whistle. “McKinsey or BCG?”
“Deloitte.”
“Fuck,” Namjoon intones. “I should’ve known. That’s really hot.”
The confession arrives so out of the blue that it startles a laugh out of Jungkook.
“You look like that,” Jungkook gestures to Namjoon’s chest, his torso, his everything, really, “and you’re telling me that the fact I work at Deloitte is what gets you going? What the fuck, man.”
Namjoon shoves at his shoulder and Jungkook can’t describe it, but their point of contact burns long after Namjoon pulls away. It must be a vampire thing he never anticipated.
“I have a deck in Google Slides detailing my theory and all my findings if you want to see it some time.” Jungkook puffs out his chest the tiniest bit and bites his lip for extra measure. To go the full anime girl route, he tucks his hair behind his ear and averts his gaze before turning right back to Namjoon.
Namjoon looks enamored.
“Do you really?” he breathes, and Jungkook can hear the awe in his voice.
God, if he’d known his corporate competencies and identity of being a slave to the machine was enough to get Namjoon going, he would’ve showed up next door in only his Patagonia vest ages ago.
Jungkook nods and swallows. Namjoon’s eyes drift down to his throat and back, and suddenly Jungkook remembers he’s sharing very close quarters with a vampire who could very well rip his throat to shreds. Namjoon could easily suck every last drop of blood from his body while making it look like an accident.
His heart races at the thought. Jungkook wonders if Namjoon can hear the way it thrums with exhilaration, the quick whoosh whoosh whoosh in his chest. One moment he’s sitting and joking about his job and the next he feels himself begin to understand where Bella Swan was coming from.
“I do,” Jungkook confirms. “Would you like to see?”
Namjoon bites his lip and smiles, and it’s literally in the blink of an eye that he crosses the distance between them to be right up against Jungkook’s face. He’s just a hair away from touching Jungkook, and every pore of Jungkook’s skin aches to be known and devoured by the Hunter himself.
“I’d love to. But first,” he trails on, and his face is so close to Jungkook that there’s nothing for him to do but close his eyes.
A cheek brushes his, and Jungkook finds it devastatingly beautiful that he can feel how soft Namjoon’s skin is without needing to touch with his own hands.
Namjoon leans his temple against Jungkook’s. His eyes are somehow even prettier up close.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers, and it sends shivers up Jungkook’s spine, the way Namjoon’s voice seems to transcend time and space to wrap his words all around Jungkook, leaving him to wonder where Namjoon ends and Jungkook begins.
The tiniest kitten lick against Jungkook’s earlobe, the creak of furniture as Namjoon maneuvers them around so that Jungkook is leaning back against the arm of sofa as Namjoon hovers over him. Jungkook peeks the tiniest glimpse at Namjoon’s arms encasing him on both sides and is wildly impressed at the man’s control, nary a twitch in sight. A lesser man would be shaking by now.
All Jungkook can do is keen. He pushes his head back against the sofa and watches as Namjoon’s eyes trace the line of his throat.
“Bite me,” Jungkook says, and he has to attribute the sudden fog he’s found himself in to Namjoon’s power or something.
And then it all comes crashing down.
“I don’t have fangs.”
“You make literally no sense to me, dude,” Jungkook says, and Namjoon hums from where he’s sitting at the breakfast bar stirring some honey into his homemade oat milk matcha latte. They’re in Namjoon’s place now after spending the evening cleaning the hallway and making friends with their neighbors Yoongi and Hoseok, who’d stumbled into the Clorox party about halfway through.
It turns out Yoongi’s also a vampire and he’d soundproofed their place years ago after Marina had complained and kindly requested he keep his raging about his immortality to the morning hours when he’d first been turned. Jungkook thinks he might be in love with him.
“I get that a lot. Elaborate, though?” He takes a sip and sighs happily before licking those full, plush lips of his. Jungkook wants to kiss them.
He pads over to press himself into Namjoon’s side. While the angle is a little skewed considering Namjoon is sitting on a bar stool, he makes do and snakes an arm around Jungkook’s waist to sneak two of his fingers under the waistband of his boxers.
“You’re a vampire.” Namjoon nods, and Jungkook feels the movement rock against his sternum.
“But you don’t need blood.” Another nod, and a squeeze of Jungkook’s waist to go right along with it.
“I’m an evolved creature,” Namjoon declares. “I got bitten by an Original a few years ago and she said I’d grow the fangs and turn into Dracula somewhere down the line.” He shrugs and takes another sip. "It hasn't happened yet."
Jungkook can’t resist the urge to poke his sweet dimple. Namjoon all but preens and bites at the fabric of Jungkook’s soft hoodie.
“It’s all for show, I think. All it takes for now is showing up to clan meetings to pick up a liter of blood disguised as a bottle of tomato juice and I’m set for like, three months.”
“So…what’s the point in being a vampire then?”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow and leaps to his feet to trap Jungkook against the counter.
He leans close and all Jungkook can see is Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.
“It comes with its perks, I think,” Namjoon offers, and Jungkook can taste the honey on his tongue as Namjoon’s lips move against his.
Jungkook thinks he likes the sound of that.