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Felix feels his eyes on him first.
Long before he even sees him, he feels him. His gaze.
The bartender just slid him his rum and coke, the exorbitant price of the little drink only slightly offset by the 25% discount taken thanks to his costume. That’s the special promotion tonight; come in costume, get a discounted drink. It’s Halloween night in Seoul, so Felix considers it the closest thing to a treat he’ll get this evening. The downtown district is so bright, so colorful, and the bar's dim brick alleyway enticed Felix in itself.
He’s always hated neon lights. They’ve always made his eyes hurt.
The dive bar is loud, though . Not loud like a club, not loud from pounding bass and ear-splitting beats, but loud from voices. Layers and layers of voices fill up the small space, laughing and whooping and cheering. Some even sing along to the early 2000s hits playing through the cheap speakers, nostalgic choruses crackling and somewhat eerie from the poor sound quality. Something about the noise level serves to remind Felix that he is alone tonight.
It’s only vaguely quieter at the bar, but the slight dip in noise is like an oasis to Felix. He relaxed a bit on his leather stool and took a long look around the room, as a means to distract himself from the skin-tingling sensation of nearby eyes piecing him apart. He shivered, despite the balmy air in the joint.
Everyone is dressed to the nines in their halloween finery . Of course they are, because who wouldn’t want to take advantage of such a deep discount on drinks, let alone on a night of costumed revelry such as this.
Girls in tight black bodysuits and cat-ear headbands giggle behind beer bottle necks, wiggly whiskers drawn across blushing cheeks. Groups of college boys in cowboy hats, chaps and tasseled suede vests cavort by the back door, throwing up peace signs as the flash of phone cameras bathe them in white. Even the bartender is in a fanciful get-up; a boy by the name of Changbin, who just served Felix. He’s donning a startlingly intricate pirate look, toy parrot tacked onto his shoulder and all. It’s festive in the bar, ignoring the grating noise. Fake cobwebs are stretched behind the counter, stuck to the bottles that are hardly ever ordered. Plastic skeletons and fuzzy spiders are propped up in the far-off booths, on the other side of the crowded room.
Felix has been here for going on fifteen minutes, and he’s already horribly bored. Already on the verge of a headache. He’s never been a bar person. Never been a party person. He just wanted his discounted rum and coke—maybe he’ll head out soon, now that he’s settled the tab. He made sure to slip Changbin a hefty tip once given his card back, to which the pirate-bartender was extremely grateful. He has successfully checked through his mental itinerary. Felix could, technically, leave any given second.
And he might just do exactly that.
It’s too hot, too packed. Everyone else’s heat is starting to creep into Felix, despite him sitting static at the bar. And he made the mistake of wearing a heavy as hell velvet jacket, to top off his noble costume. Ugh. Why didn’t he pick a more low maintenance outfit for tonight? He’s sweating bullets already, and he just arrived! He stuck a finger beneath the tight knot of his lacy cravat, and loosened it a tad. There. At least he can breathe again.
Felix lazily swirled the squat glass, eyes unfocused as the pair of ice cubes slip through the dark mixture. He took a sip; the sweetness of the soda did little to mask the eye-burning quality of the heavy pour of rum. He felt it pool in his belly like a coiled cobra, fire already starting to seep into his bloodstream.
Felix still feels eyes on him, somewhere to his side. A couple barstools over. It acted as a swarm of ants on his skin, making him sweat even more under his velvet jacket.
Unable to take it anymore, he looked to his right.
There is a boy sitting two barstools over, hunched so his elbows rest on the polished wood countertop. Felix didn't even notice him, when he first picked this seat as his for the evening. He’s wearing a simple black blouse and equally onyx jeans, with a satin cape tied around his impressive, broad shoulders. The collar is high, rising to just skirt the lobes of his pierced ears. Felix can see the rich red lining of the cape, as it elegantly hangs down his back and past the seat of his stool. It’s just about the cheapest vampire cloak Felix has ever seen, but something about the boy’s mysterious aura makes it work. Makes it seem...authentic.
Makes him sort of scary.
There’s a dollop of fake blood at the corner of his full, pale lips, the lone splotch of scarlet appearing matte under the poor lighting by the bar. But that isn’t what made Felix’s breath catch.
He’s starting right at Felix. Completely unabashed, and unashamed. His eyes are mottled green, somewhere between mossy and azure, and he’s boring directly into the boy two barstools over. They must be pretty high quality contacts, Felix can only assume. The color of his irises are absolutely gorgeous. Almost as if they’re the genuine thing. But his stare is unreadable. He’s just...looking. Looking so hard, it’s as if he’s trying to find something in Felix. They made eye contact, and the other boy still did not move his gaze.
He didn’t even blink.
Felix placed his drink down on the coaster after taking another small, preparatory sip. If he’s gonna engage this weirdo, he better have some more liquid courage in his body to snuff out his severe aversion to confrontation.
“Can I help you?” He drawled, refusing to back out from the stranger’s electrifying staredown.
The vampire boy cocked a brow, but has yet to move his eyes. There’s a tall glass on his coaster, resting between his bent elbows. It’s half-full with strikingly dark, borderline red liquid. Wine? Red wine? Felix didn’t think janky bars like this carried wines like that in their store room. Huh.
Kinda weird.
The boy turned a bit on his stool, more towards Felix. He took the stem of his glass in hand, gave his drink an absentminded swirl. His fingers are pale, just like the rest of him. Felix couldn't help noticing just how thick the drink looks, as it leaves tracks of viscous red down the inner curve of the glass. Felix isn’t an avid drinker of the stuff, but he knows well enough that red wine doesn’t have a consistency like that.
The boy’s voice is smooth like silk, even under the noise of the bar. “To what station might you be, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Felix thought it was a flirt at first.
An incredibly strange flirt, but perhaps an ice breaker all the same.
Felix furrowed his brows in confusion, but tried not to let his severe vexation show. “ My station?”
Like….subway station? Felix isn’t sure if he’s ready to reveal that kind of information to someone he just met—
The boy blinked for the very first time. He gave his glass a final, languid swirl, before he brought it to his lips. They are stained bright ruby after he swallows, and places it back on the coaster. Red wine doesn’t dye your lips like that, Felix knows. He darted out his tongue, and collected the small drop of scarlet left by the corner of his mouth. It must be edible fake blood. That’s a thing…right?
The boy gazed at Felix through heavy-lids, and asked, “Are you an earl? A duke? A viceroy? The length of your cuffs are wholly improper to your station, whatever it may be.”
Felix blinked at him, took an involuntary swig of his rum and coke as a desperate attempt to get his brain working. It failed. The fire in his belly only made his next bout of heat that much more dizzying.
He looked down at his wrists, at the lace cuffs peeking out from under the embroidered sleeves of his red velvet jacket. Earl? Duke?
Felix’s eyes widened in recognition, “Are you talking about my costume?”
The boy nodded, silently. His black hair is gelled off his forehead, but the bobbing sent a couple strands flying loose.
Felix barked a laugh, rumbling from his chest. Damn, this dude is weird. He’s also kinda hot, though. So he decided to play along. Felix has no idea what he's talking about, but strangely enough he's...kinda into it? He puffed out his chest, his billowy white blouse shifting under his jacket lapels. “I’m a 17th century vampire prince. That’s my station.”
Felix didn’t necessarily have the vampire part of his look in mind when he picked it out last night—it’s not like he’s got a pair of plastic fangs jammed in, or anything even remotely undead-adjacent—but he threw it in for some extra flare. Maybe he subconsciously wanted the other boy, in his simpler vampiric costume, to know they’re on the same wavelength.
The boy hummed, flat and monotone. “A vampire, hm?”
Felix nodded proudly, deliberately made his smile a smirk. “That’s right. Just like you!”
The cloaked boy scoffed at that, softly under his breath. Felix saw the twitch of his lips more than he heard the breathy tut. “Yeah. Just like me.”
He said it like Felix is missing something. Maybe he is. Felix doesn’t care enough to press the issue, because there’s something magnetic about this stranger. Something Felix can’t place, but is drawing him in like a moth to a flame. The conversation could’ve ended there, realistically. Felix had other ideas.
He gestured to his opulent velvet jacket, stroked tiny fingers over the shiny brass buttons and gold embroidery. Adjusted the cravat tied snug around his throat. “You like it?”
It was a flirt. An incredibly strange flirt, but an ice breaker all the same.
The stranger seemed completely unimpressed at Felix’s semi-sultry question. He tsked, and took another long gulp of his viscous drink as if to clear his thoughts. He huffed, “It is entirely periodically inaccurate.”
He continued, suddenly sounding inordinately exasperated. “Your jabot is much too short, as are your cuffs. You should be wearing knee breeches, not full length trousers. And where on earth is your waistcoat?”
“ J-jabot?” Felix repeated, utterly baffled. He didn't understand a good half of that rant. Welp.
The stranger sighed, heavy yet still arguably good natured, and pointed at Felix’s throat. “The thing around your neck.”
Oh, of course. Leave it to Felix to piss off the only hot costume historian at this stupid Halloween party. Great. There’s no way he’ll go home with Felix at this rate! He'll be lucky if they even make out in the alleyway behind the bar. He’s got some work to do, it seems.
Those couple swigs of his rum and coke are starting to play with Felix’s inhibitions. Starting to soften them up, like cotton candy melting in your mouth. The noise which was once too pronounced, borderline unbearable, began to fade to a dull buzzing just beyond the sanctuary of the bar. Felix isn’t drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. His eyes aren’t swimming from inebriation, but he felt his body and vision wobble a bit as he looked into the vampire-boy’s eyes. He somehow knew it wasn’t a byproduct of the alcohol, that time around.
This boy is kinda fun. Felix is starting to enjoy his company.
All that correcting of the historical inaccuracies of his costume is starting to make him giddy. Make him flustered.
Felix giggled, and bit at his bottom lip to stifle the laughter. “Sorry,” he sing-songed, “I couldn't find anything good for a costume, so I just threw together this stuff I used for a production of Les Mis back in high school.”
The other boy visibly bristled at that. “ Les Mis?” He griped, lips curling into a snarl for a brief, very sexy second. He took an angry sip of his drink, pale fingers tightly grasping the stem. His mouth is stained dark red once again, soon licked clean with a swipe of his tongue. “That takes place more than a full century later than when you’re supposed to be dressed!”
Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy, but he’s still grinning that toothy, crooked smile. Something about this man intrigues Felix to no end, makes him curious. Makes him want to know more. He’s pretty easy on the eyes, too. And that’s putting it lightly.
He’s hot as fuck, is what Felix is trying to say. His features are strong, masculine, perfect, and practically begging to peppered in appreciative kisses. His jaw is sharp, his nose pretty and wide. His neck is pallid and blemish free, and Felix would pay actual real-life money to mark it with love bites.
Maybe coming to this seedy Halloween shindig wasn’t such a bad idea. And he’s not talking about the 25% discount on his drink.
“Why do you care so much, anyways?” Felix couldn't help but ask, his gaze playful and inquisitive. Of course historical accuracy is always important (though Felix did try his best), but he still wants to know why this seems so….personal to the stranger.
Felix subtly pushed his drink away, the cork coaster catching on some of the condensation pooling around the bottom. He doesn’t want anymore of his beloved rum and coke anymore. He wants to be present. He wants to know this boy, without any drunkenness to jeopardize that.
The boy’s expression softened, then went blank. His green-blue eyes are somewhat glassy, when he mumbles, “I was there. That’s why I care.”
How Felix heard him above the drone of the other bar patrons is beyond him.
But he did.
And he titled his head in confusion in turn, coiffed blonde locks shifting off his forehead. He was there? In the...17th century?
Felix scrutinized the boy, waited for him to break and double over in laughter. He didn’t, suffice it to say. He just sighed, longingly. Wistfully. The kind of sigh that belies the type of heartache time refuses to heal. The kind of stubborn melancholy that stays with you, as long as you live and breathe.
Felix rolled his eyes at the boy’s odd dramatics, after another awkward couple of seconds spent waiting for him to shed the character. He hates when people turn their Halloween costumes into acts. It’s so pretentious! God . Can’t he just wear the costume, like everyone else? Does he have to live it?
“Very funny,” Felix chided, shook his head just a bit. Luckily this doesn’t take away from this guy’s extreme hotness, and doesn’t deter Felix from how goddamn attracted to him he feels. If anything, this gimmick just adds something endearing to his previous criticisms of Felix’s princely outfit. “You’re a great actor.”
The vampire boy blinked, nice and long, and when he reopens his eyes they are significantly clearer than before. His gaze slunk back to Felix, slow and deliberate. And when their eyes met again, the sheer intensity of his stare sent shivers down his spine.
“I’m not acting.”
Felix has chills.
He’s not just a great actor on second thought—he’s an amazing one.
Felix can’t deny it, though. Something about how he said it sounded so... real. His voice carried the kind of power and conviction that simply can’t be faked, Halloween gimmicks or not. If you asked Felix, he’d genuinely say he believed him; that he’s not acting. That this is his truth . But that must be the residual heat of the drink mellowing in his tummy speaking, and influencing his ears. Right?
Felix swallowed thickly, for reasons unbeknownst.
But that reminds him; he has yet to learn this odd, intriguing boy’s identity.
He made the conscious choice to ignore his previous statement, and switch gears. “What’s your name?”
The boy’s eyes are inscrutable once again. Felix feels like he needs an almanac, a lexicon, a dictionary, just to translate the gloss on his unnatural irises. The boy looked at Felix through his thick, dark lashes, as if weighing consequences. He eventually said, “Bang Chan. But please, call me Chan.”
Chan. Felix wants to moan that name.
But that’s a thought for later.
Chan’s voice is so low, so creamy. Felix felt his mouth water, as he listened.
“Nice to meet you, Chan.” Replied Felix, sending the boy an appropriately inviting grin. “I’m Felix.”
For the first time since their meeting, Chan smiled. A small upturn at the corners of his pale lips, but it is a smile all the same. It is unmistakable, even in the grungey lowlight of the bar. His eyes brightened a bit, became starrier. “The pleasure is all mine, Felix.”
Chan sipped idly from his wine glass, which is rapidly emptying. He doesn’t seem the least bit drunk, despite the hearty amount he has already stomached. Rather, he seems vaguely contemplative as he drinks. The new round of silence seems to have alerted him to something.
This time, Felix wants to kiss the tack of thick red off his lips when he pulls off the glass rim. Chan chuckled under his breath, as if something wonderful just dawned on him. His ruby smile widened just a tad, as he mused, “You’re quite cute. Ignoring the glaring historical inaccuracies of your costume, that is.”
He looked to Felix again, and there is now palpable yearning in his eyes.
Okay, now that is a flirt. Definitely, unmistakably a flirt.
The flames in Felix’s gut kindled that much hotter, smoking up his insides and dilating his pupils. He wants Chan. Wants him very, very badly. He realized, as a grouping of couples burst into laughter just past the bar, that it is his time to make a move.
Felix looked around the bar, somewhat frantically, until his owl eyes found the door to the single-person bathroom adjacent to the back door. There’s no line outside the threshold, and the sight made Felix’s heart race.
He turned back to Chan, almost bouncing on his leather stool from anticipation. “Wanna take this to the bathroom?” He asked pointedly, his grin intentionally coquettish. He waggled his brows for added emphasis, and Chan giggled into a large, lovely hand.
Yes, Chan and Felix met no more than an hour ago. But Felix is at a seedy bar on Halloween; what else is he expected to do, if not hook up with the exceedingly hot vampire boy who has a taste for periodically accurate costuming?
And, thankfully, Chan got his drift immediately.
He bit at his thick bottom lip, the rosy flesh going white. He suddenly looks incredibly hungry. Parched, even, in spite of the multiple gulps of his drink he took. Maybe it’s Felix’s eyes playing tricks on him in the lowlight, but something about Chan’s teeth looked odd in that moment. Something about the sharpness of his canines.
He extended a pale, veiny hand to Felix, reaching over the single unoccupied barstool separating them. “Shall we?”
Felix almost choked on his spit in his haste to take the offered hand, and lace their fingers together. Chan’s skin is extremely chilled, to the point where it made Felix’s breath hitch in his throat. It couldn't be ignored, his coldness. And yet, Felix did just that;
He ignored it.
They hopped from their stools in unison, respective drinks instantly left forgotten on the countertop. Chan tightened his grip on Felix’s hand as they slipped through the crowd and towards the bathroom door. Chan’s shiny satin cape billowed behind him with each step, occasionally ghosting the knobs of Felix’s knees.
Everyone’s bodies are too close, too sweaty, but the odd frigidity of Chan’s palm grounded Felix in the storm of motion and activity. They dodged faceless gyrating figures, bobbed around shoulders, ducked under raised arms, and soon enough the tarnished knob of the washroom door came fully into view.
Chan threw it open in one fluid movement, dragged Felix inside, and immediately slammed it shut as he whipped around to cage him against the wood. Felix gasped as his back is cornered flush to the door, Chan’s superior strength making his head spin and heart stutter. Fuck, he thought, eyes darkening. He’s so fucking hot.
Felix became increasingly aware that he is not buzzed any longer. The numbing quality of the alcohol has left his system already, and he couldn't be any more relieved. Felix is grounded with Chan, feeling every inch of his body, every fan of his breath, every thought in his own head pertaining to how badly he wants to be taken by the boy. Felix has never been happier to be totally sober, totally clear-minded, and totally entranced on Chan and every facet of his being.
Chan growled, bracketing Felix in with strong arms on either side of his shoulders. He leaned close to Felix’s face, breath thick and tepid against his cheek, but made no further advance yet. Felix smelled something heady on his breath, almost like copper. He tasted it, with how his lips are parted and waiting. It reminded him of when you bite your tongue and get a drop of blood in your mouth.
Felix is much too enamoured with the boy to question it.
“D-do whatever you want,” Felix croaked, eyes going hazy under the weight of Chan’s fiery stare. “Please, Chan.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy swallow, “I want you.”
Chan didn’t spare a single second to breathe, once given the go-ahead.
He dove in, and immediately seamed his lips with Felix. His mouth is pleasantly cool like his hand, and Felix keened at the unique sensation. He gasped into Chan’s mouth, and the boy hungrily licked and lapped inside. He tasted it again, that distinctly metallic tang in Chan’s spit. Felix wasted no time kissing him back just as desperately, nonetheless.
Felix is sweating, forehead dappled in beady droplets, and he awkwardly shrugged out of his velvet jacket in between moaning around Chan’s tongue. It fell to the floor, landing with a dull thump on the dirty tilework. Felix grasped at the back of Chan’s cape once freed from the stifling outer layer, fingers balling up the black satin.
His eyes are fluttering, in time with the flickering incandescent bulb hanging from the peeling bathroom ceiling.
Chan crowded Felix even flusher to the door, pressing them chest to chest. Felix’s heart is speeding so quickly that it’s making his bones jittery. But, strangely enough, he can’t feel Chan’s heart, in spite of their body-to-body contact. He blamed the intoxicating slip and suck of Chan’s tongue and lips as the culprit for his brain missing the beat.
“Fuck,” Felix moaned, sighing against Chan’s mouth. The boy reached an arm away from caging Felix in, and instead gripped at the dip of his waist. Felix’s vision went cloudy, unconsciously bucking his hips under Chan’s bruising fingertips. “You feel so good. ”
Chan hummed at the praise, and kneaded Felix’s hipbone through his starched trousers. He saw stars fly between his lashes. Felix slipped a thigh between Chan’s legs, and the boy rutted against the offered flesh.
Felix whined, pitchy and wobbling in the thick bathroom air, as Chan abruptly left his mouth in favor of kissing at his neck. But the longing didn't last; Felix chomped down on his lip to stop himself from screaming, because Chan’s tongue laving at his jugular should not feel as mind-numbingly sinful as it does. Chan kissed down Felix's neck, stopping at the cravat tied snug around the base of his throat before licking back up again. Felix’s hands began to tremble, the white of his drained knuckles contrasting perfectly with the jet fabric of Chan’s cape between his fingers.
Chan noisily sucked a wet bruise onto a particularly sensitive part of his neck, and Felix threw his head back in bliss. His skull collided with the chipped wood door, but the ache is severely tempered by Chan’s dizzying ministrations. Felix’s hands fell from his cloak, and he instead curled tiny fingers through Chan’s denim belt loops in order to pull him that much closer, to lovingly squeeze at his broad, muscular waist.
Chan rolled his hips against Felix’s thigh and growled. Felix felt it rumble deep into his skin, giving him goosebumps.
It is at this moment that Felix opened his eyes. It was involuntary, simply a byproduct of the electrifying shocks of pleasure coursing through his veins and making his body jolt.
He is immediately greeted with Chan, body large and muscular and donning black on black on black. His pale skin as he pulls at the neckline of Felix’s blouse, and greedily licks at the junction between his neck and shoulder.
But then Felix found the rusted, askew mirror hanging from the opposing wall, and his heart almost stopped .
Because just he is reflected in the scratched, stain-flecked surface. Just his pliant body alone is visible on the silver, eyes glassy and head tipped back, lips reddened and puffy from Chan’s wild kisses. His arms are bent parallel to his hips, fingers molding around thin air. His body is writhing a bit in the reflection, hips gently rocking under Chan’s grip.
He stared at the mirror, eyes gradually blowing wide; bruises are darkening on the side of his neck, in time with Chan mouthing at the flesh. But Chan isn’t there. He can see the reflected hickeys as they begin to appear, but the boy responsible is fucking invisible. Gone. Ceased to be.
But he's here, with Felix right now. Leaving kitten-licks along his neck and the edge of his jaw. Kissing under the chain dangling from his right earlobe. Holding Felix calm and steady beneath his touches, as if he's the most precious being in the world. He's here. So why isn't he...there? In the mirror?
Felix gulped, as realization hit him. Maybe Chan’s vampire get-up is less of a costume than he originally thought.
Because it has already been well established that Felix isn’t drunk. He wasn’t drunk at any point tonight, long before he asked Chan on the date to the bathroom.
If he wasn’t drunk, isn't drunk, then….why is he seeing this? Why isn’t Chan in the reflection with him?
Why does his saliva taste so coppery? Why is his skin so cold?
Why did his wine from earlier not look like wine at all?
Felix is suddenly reminded of how deadly serious Chan sounded when he said he was there. In the past .
“C-chan,” Felix whimpered, breath uneven and jagged.
The boy purred into the crook of Felix’s neck, making him moan despite the melting quality of his thoughts. He’s not scared. He just wants to know why.
“You’re not in the mirror.” Felix muttured, matter-a-factly. It was simply a statement. His grip on Chan’s hips went slack.
Chan froze, body immediately going stiff. He pulled away from Felix’s neck, eyes wide and brows scrunched. He looked over a broad shoulder, met the mirror in question, then turned back to Felix. His arms fell dejectedly to his sides, breaking contact with Felix’s body. His kiss-bruised lips are parted, either from shock or remnant pleasure or both, and Felix caught sight of his unnaturally elongated canines again.
He has a sneaking suspicion those aren’t incredibly high quality prop fangs.
They just stared, eyes locked, panting equally labored breaths up and down at the other. Felix stared into Chan’s blue-green eyes, searching for an answer. He came up empty.
Chan is gazing down at him, eyes plaintive and dewy like he expects Felix to run. Like he wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Felix did nothing of the sort, though. He had no intention to.
Chan’s throat bobbed after a few more moments of pregnant silence, and blinked away the glaze on his irises. He took one of Felix’s hands in his, and gently squeezed. The chill of his palm eased the fire pricking Felix’s nerve endings. His voice is deep, almost sheepish, as he says, “I told you I wasn’t acting earlier.”
It was all he supplied as an explanation. And it was enough.
Felix heaved a shaking breath, fanning some of the stray strands off Chan’s forehead. He remembered his quip to Chan earlier, about their semi-matching costumes. About how he's also dressed as a vampire.
“I'm not just like you, am I.”
It wasn't even a question.
Chan simply shook his head. No.
“Okay,” Felix whispered, once he eventually got his thoughts in some manner of order. He slid his tongue over his bottom lip, and tasted the metallic flavor of Chan’s spit. Something about it calmed him. He focused on the coolness of Chan’s fingers between his, and squeezed them with purpose. He thinks he understands everything now.
“Okay. Cool.”
Felix supposes it makes sense Chan would choose a Halloween party as the venue to showcase his true identity so obviously. He was hiding in plain sight. Though Felix doubts he dons the cape in his day to day, the other 364 days of the year.
Chan cocked his head at the boy’s reaction, before he began to smile; wide and gummy and putting the sharp points of his fangs on full display. Chan has dimples. Felix didn’t know that until right this very second. The revelation made his heart grow wings and soar between his ribs.
“You’re very cute, Felix.” Chan mused, and he sounds fond. He looks it too, in the dopey angle of his smile. He pecked the tip of Felix’s nose, and then one of his freckled cheeks. “I don’t even care about your outfit anymore.”
Felix chuckled, and playfully twirled one of the ruffles of his cravat—what did Chan call it before, again?—around a finger. “That’s a relief. I thought I really turned you off with that before.”
Chan purred again, dipping back to his neck and lightly kissing at the bruises. Felix whimpered, when Chan pecked a remarkably tender love bite. “Of course not,” he mouthed against his skin, sending vibrations through the column of Felix’s throat. “I’m just picky about that stuff.”
Felix supposes he has a right to be.
He sighed, body mellowing against the door once again. Chan’s coldness is doing wonders to combat the ruby flush on his cheeks, and Felix leaned more of his body weight onto the boy in order to chase his refreshing chill. This is certainly a Halloween to remember, that’s for sure. Which reminds Felix;
He kissed Chan’s jaw, “You really went as yourself for Halloween, huh.”
Chan nibbled at his skin, massaged Felix’s knuckles where their hands are intertwined. “It’s all the creativity I’ve got, after all these centuries.”
Felix hummed, stroked a long line down the back of Chan’s satin cloak. “Valid.”
If Felix focuses through the internal rush of blood in his ears, he’d be able to pick up the cheers and racket of the bar just outside the bathroom door. The near silence in the tiled room is like sugar, Felix thinks. Like resting your head on a down-pillow after days awake. Chan’s quiet kisses make it all worth it; the headache he got from entering the bar, the gauge taken out of his wallet from the price of his unfinished rum and coke.
And Felix still wants Chan, very, very badly. Even after everything, he hungers for him. Aches for him.
It is Halloween after all. He did just hook up with an unfairly hot vampire who he is not terribly eager to bid farewell to, so Felix only found it appropriate to ask, “Chan, are you gonna bite me?”
Said vampire abandoned Felix’s neck once again, and leveled him with a firm, searching stare. When he realized Felix is totally serious, he cocked a brow. “You do realize you could pass out from blood loss, right?”
Chan didn't necessarily appear shocked by the question, but he does seem on the better side of concerned. Felix thinks Chan looks rather adorable, when he's worried for his well being. But Chan is also adorable in general, he would like to amend.
Damn, Felix thought, swallowing down his giggles. That's some dirty talk if I ever heard it.
But Felix could not and will not be deterred. He wants Chan to bite him with every fiber of his being. Blame it on the Halloween spirit influencing him, or something.
Plus, they are at a bar, after all. Passing out within these walls kinda comes with the fucking territory. Nobody would bat an eye at the sight of Chan carrying a limp Felix through the crowd, and out the front door. Actually? That gives him a great idea.
“Sick,” Drawled Felix, swinging their laced hands, “If I pass out from blood loss or whatever, then you can take me back to your place and take care of me. Sounds like a fair deal, hm?”
Chan gets some free dinner, and Felix gets to spend more time with the hot vampire he may or may not be falling for. He, for one, certainly can't argue with those terms.
Chan’s lips quirked up, revealing his fangs. The idea seems to have satisfied him, just as much. Felix’s heart began to race as Chan kissed his temple, chaste and incredibly tender. He whispered in his ear, “Very well, Felix. That sounds more than fair.”
There's something so intimate in Chan's voice, ghosting just beneath the darkness, the lowness of his tone. Felix shivered, but made a point to meet Chan with a genuine, beaming smile. He could tell the expression placated whatever apprehensions the vampire had left, made him loosen the tautness in his body and relax.
Felix will be okay no matter what happens, as long as the vampire stays with him. And Chan seems to finally understand that.
Without another word, Chan released his grip on the human's fingers, and cupped Felix’s jaw with both hands. He gently tilted his head to the right, exposing the side of his neck not marred with countless love marks. The skin is pure and pristine, but Felix knows that won't last much longer. That thought excites him, makes his chest flutter even more. Chan rubbed calming circles beneath Felix’s jaw as he craned his own head down, positioning his lips right at the human’s waiting flesh. He hesitated, puffing lukewarm breaths onto the skin.
“Are you really sure about this?”
Felix sucked in a breath, instantly hit with Chan's sharp metallic aroma, and unconsciously found that hanging mirror once again. He found his lone figure on the surface, neck titled by invisible, phantom hands. He laced his arms around Chan’s back, held on tight, and idly played with the loose satin of his cape. He nodded with confidence, and watched his singular reflection bob his head back at him. He looks so strange in the mirror, with his arms looped so securely around nothing.
“I am.”
Chan kissed his neck, as if to thank him. As if to comfort him from what's to come. Felix’s heart slowed, as he mellowed into Chan's hold. Something about his blood breath, something about his undead chill eases Felix to no end. Something implacable about Chan, in his essence, feels like a safe haven. As if it is physically impossible for Felix to be harmed in his presence. He never expected to fall in love on Halloween night, let alone in this janky bar he found down a random street. Let alone with an incredibly sweet and charming vampire.
But he's positive stranger things have happened, especially this close to the witching hour. Felix recognized his new crush without question, filed those thoughts away for later, and nuzzled his cheek even flusher into Chan's palm.
And then Chan reared his head back, just a bit. Just enough to allow the dingy, outdated bulb to catch the yellow glow on his fangs. Felix isn't afraid. He doesn't think he ever will be, with him.
Chan sank his teeth in.
And Felix is officially very, very glad he decided to spend his Halloween night at a seedy bar in downtown Seoul.