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Jimin presses through the underbrush, pulling a twig from his hair and shivering against the evening breeze. The moonlight reflects off his golden skin, fragmenting moonlight across the leaves he passes. Namjoon suggested evening walks as a way to deal with his ever-present insomnia years ago, and although it barely helps, he's still desperate enough to try.
He pushes past the treeline, exhaling gratefully once he's in his clearing. His breath is visible in the pale light, and he wraps his arms around his middle, making his way up the uneven steps and inside his cottage.
He stalks across the floor toward his fireplace, tossing in a couple of logs before coaxing the flames to life, watching them dance. He stands, wanders to his trunk to pull on a pair of sweats.
Tonight's moon sets his humble cottage aglow. It's nearly full, a bright waxing gibbous that reminds Jimin of the shift to come. Full moon shifting is different, instinctual, woven into the strands of his DNA. He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to.
He sighs, running a hand through his dark fringe and muttering under his breath.
He has a lot to do. He needs to collect some more food from the garden, needs to gather enough to make a large dinner and an even bigger meal for after he shifts back. His strength has been down the last few months.
This time of year is the hardest, a blinding reminder of everything he's lost over the last two decades.
He's meant to be healing out here in the woods, but he spends most days moping, scraping by, and doing the bare minimum so that he can comfortably survive. His eyes sting.
He drops down in front of the growing fire, pulls one of his favorite pelts around his shoulders, and settles in.
The flames dance, flickering and warming Jimin's cheeks. He falls asleep like that, curled up on the floor, willing the moon goddess to take him while he sleeps although he knows he won't be that lucky.
He wakes to the sound of birds chirping where they flit around outside the window while he lays there with his face smashed against the wood grain. He groans, burying his face in the floor for a moment before pushing himself up. He stretches, listens to his spine crack before he makes his way to the kitchen.
He scours his shelves, muttering to himself before he tosses the remaining handful of berries into his mouth for breakfast and pulling on a linen shirt. Then he heads out into the midmorning sun.
By now, he has forest living down to a routine. He's one with his clearing and the existing wild of the forest surrounding him. He's more in tune with his wolf than he ever has been.
It isn't easy, but it does help.
He grabs the basket that sits beside his door and walks to his garden. It's planted on the side of his house, a nice plot of soil that he's lovingly kept up over the years. He takes stock of what's growing and what needs more attention. He wonders if Namjoon would be willing to bring him some new seeds from the city so he doesn't have to go back.
He drops to his knees without ceremony, feels them sink into the softened earth. It smells divine. He picks the ripe tomatoes and peppers, grabs some basil and thyme, digs up some carrots and potatoes, and counts his spoils before moving along to the very patch. The strawberries have grown especially well this year. He picks them and the blackberries that are ready and sets them in the basket.
It should be more than enough to get him through the next few nights, and he nods to himself. He sets the basket on the deck before fetching some well water and sitting on the steps to wash his new food.
He hums while he works, falling into the routine while the biting chill of water shocks his system. It makes everything clear, reminds him of where he is, and who he is, and what he has.
He feels a bit like a scratched record, always skipping. He thinks of the records that used to adorn a music room in a gorgeous house that was furnished by a man who still feels too real to be a memory. When he was younger, he would pace the room when he was home alone, tracing his fingertips along the books and the records and the plush velvet couch. He still owns the house. And the records. And the smooth velvet couch. They lay frozen in time, still sitting there in a suburb of Seoul untouched just like he is.
He has never felt more alone.
He stands abruptly, fingers dripping onto the soft earth of the clearing floor. He rushes inside, nearly tripping on his way. The front door slams and he tucks himself into bed, trying desperately to keep his breathing even.
He counts his breaths. Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for eight. He begs the moon goddess to take mercy. He begs the forest to swallow him whole.
A twig snaps outside. He sits up, eyes narrowed.
He is a predator. His senses are still sharp even after being dulled by the unceasing pangs of loneliness. He wipes his cheeks, sniffling and making his way to the window, peeking outside.
This happens sometimes.
When he had told Namjoon years ago, the older wolf had patted Jimin's cheek and reminded him that he isn't the only wild thing living out here in the woods. And sure, it would be easy for Jimin to agree. It would be easy to laugh off the snapping twigs if not for the heavy feeling of eyes on his back.
But as lonely as he is, he feels peering eyes. He feels the curious gaze of something else. Wild animals have never given him the same uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He's seen too many deer, watched them watch him. It feels different .
Jimin shudders, leaving his cottage and peering around. His bare feet sink into the soft ground while he prowls. He dips between the trees and circles around the house, sniffing at the air. There's something sweet. It's reminiscent of his berry patch but brighter.
He finds nothing, eventually giving up and slipping back inside. He collapses on the bed and falls asleep until the late afternoon filters through his window, casting sunspots to wake him.
He yawns, gets up, and goes to the window. He stares into the sun, lets it burn his retinas. The sun will be setting soon enough, and he has work to do.
Full moon days are long. He needs to fuel his body both before and after his transformation. He works swiftly, peeling potatoes, cooking a bland meal, and shoveling two bowls into his mouth mechanically. He doesn't taste it, but he knows his body thanks him while it prepares to shift.
From the corner of his eye, he sees something. A shadow dances and he whips around, a growl ripping out of his throat. He stalks out the front door and looks around with a clenched jaw.
"Why!?" he demands, his soft voice booming. It echoes amongst the trees, and the forest falls silent.
He receives no answer.
The rest of the afternoon crawls past, and he has trouble forgetting the eyes.
🙢
Shifting isn't as gruesome as they paint it to be in the movies. His body is made for it, designed to go between forms painlessly. His skin rips itself apart and pieces itself back together, leaving a gleaming dark wolf in its place.
The moon sits high, watching over him while he howls.
Everything is easier when he's a wolf. He can let his instincts override his thoughts. He can give into the nature of being untamed. He's a wild thing. His neck throbs where his mating bite sits abandoned, but other than that, it's simple.
He loves to hunt. It's easy like this. He's small enough to be agile while he weaves through the trees. He kills two deer, drags them back to his clearing before he takes the opportunity to run.
He runs for hours until the sun begins to crest and his fur aches. He pushes himself until he's collapsing, shifting back to his human form with a heaving chest. He presses his face into the soil, breathes in the earth. It fills his nose. He can taste it.
When another twig snaps, he growls, pushing up onto his elbows and looking around with narrowed eyes.
His wolf is still close to the front, heightening his normally excellent senses. He sniffs, frowning when he notices a saccharine addition to the scent of his clearing. He pushes himself to stand on shaky legs, circling his cottage while he listens.
A shadow shifts behind one of his trees, and his hackles raise. He slinks over, eyes trained on the shadow, ready to pursue even if he needs to shift to do it.
Deer don't hide behind trees.
He's quiet, and once he's close enough, he pounces. His fingers catch a sleeve, clenching the fabric even when the owner tries to flee.
Jimin is strong, but his body is tired, spent from hunting and running and shiting. He collapses to the ground and pulls the figure down with him. His shoulder screams when it takes all of his weight, and he can't hold back his yelp.
When he opens his eyes, he stills, gripping mercilessly at the fabric in his hand.
There, beside him, is a body he could never forget no matter how much he pleaded or how hard he tried. He blinks once, dropping his hand and collapsing entirely.
"Hyung," he breathes out.
Yoongi is on his hands and knees with his head bowed. Jimin reaches out, petting at his bicep softly, letting out a breathless giggle, "Oh, good. Now I'm seeing things."
His words settle uneasily, and Yoongi sighs, lifting his head to finally make eye contact with his mate.
"You aren't seeing things, Jimin-ah," he says, voice velvety and low just the way Jimin remembers.
He's paler now, still slightly golden in the early sun. But it's flat, lacking the dimension it once had. His elbows aren't pink nor are his cheeks. Other than that, he looks the same.
"So a ghost then. Are you a ghost? Have you come to collect me?" he asks, and Yoongi chuckles, moving to sit beside Jimin, giving him a calculated once over.
"Not exactly, although you've looked better," he breathes out, looking around the clearing, "Come on. You need rest, Minie."
He stands, offering a hand. Jimin grabs hold, their fingers locking together.
Shivers, wrack his body, ice filling his veins. Yoongi pulls him up, wraps an arm around his waist, and ushers him inside, laying him on the bed and tucking him gently into his pelts. Yoongi knows exactly how Jimin likes his nest. He always paid attention to the intricacies of their bed.
"Sleep well, hm?" he says gently, and Jimin frowns, shaking his head.
"I can't, hyung."
"You have to, Jimin. You need to rest so your strength can get back up," he reminds the wolf, brushing Jimin's raven hair from his eyes.
Jimin's vision blurs, and he wipes at them hastily, refusing to take his eyes off of his hyung, "I can't," he whispers, "I can't wake up alone, hyung. I... I can't do it again." Jimin's voice cracks on the last word, and Yoongi's eyebrows knit together. He dips down to press a chaste kiss to his mate’s forehead.
"We can talk when you wake up, Minie. I'll be right here, okay? I promise. You won't wake up alone." Jimin whimpers, throat tight, and Yoongi smiles down at him, wiping his tears away, "close your eyes, pup. Hyung will dress your hunt, and I'll be right here when you wake."
Jimin nods, letting sleep drift in.
When Jimin wakes, his cottage smells lovely. It's rich, sweet fruit and well-seasoned food. He rolls over and blinks his eyes open. The sun is low, almost dipping behind the horizon. Jimin stretches while he yawns, stilling when he sees Yoongi sitting in front of the fire, gaze set on the flames.
"You have a lot of explaining to do, ghost-hyung," he says. He's aiming for light, but it falls flat, hanging heavy in the four walls of his small house. He stands, pulling some sleep pants out of his chest and tugging them on. Yoongi doesn't say anything, and Jimin sighs.
He wanders to the kitchen, peering inside the pot where his normal stew has been heavily doctored. He ladles some into a bowl before making his way to sit beside his mate.
They sit shoulder to shoulder while Jimin eats, shoving the stew into his mouth and humming gratefully. He hasn't eaten anything that tastes so good in a long while, and it warms him from the inside out. Yoongi was always the cook in their relationship.
"I'm sorry," Yoongi whispers when Jimin sets his bowl aside. Jimin just sighs, sinking down to lay his head on Yoongi's shoulder, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I just-"
"So you're not a ghost. What are you then?" he asks, and Yoongi is quiet for a long, weighted moment. The shadows creep through the window, and the fire reflects off of Yoongi's pale skin, "You should be nearing fifty. You still look thirty."
Yoongi swallows thickly, leaning to rest his cheek on Jimin's head, "It shouldn't have happened, but it did. And you're the love of my life, Jimin. I promise I-"
"Could you just answer my fucking question?" he snarls, and Yoongi flinches.
"I didn't understand at first," he whispers, fingers worrying at the hem of his shirt, "I was coming home, and I was jumped. It was just pain. So much pain and I kept begging for it to stop. I just wanted it to stop, Minie." He says, voice thick with something that Jimin can't quite place. He grabs Yoongi's hand, lacing their fingers together.
"Turns out, sometimes prayers are answered, but... I didn't mean for this," Yoongi's so quiet, Jimin can barely hear him. He squeezes his hands softly, "I'm a vampire."
Jimin sits up, turning to stare at Yoongi with wide eyes, "Wait, what?"
"There was so much blood. I was bleeding out. I was going to die... he didn't ask. He just did it , and it saved me. But at what cost, Minie? I'm a-"
"I swear to fucking god. If you say monster, I'm going to rip your throat out. And since you can't really die, I'll kill you again ," Jimin seethes with narrowed eyes.
Yoongi is silent, his eyes downcast. Jimin stares at him for a long time. He watches Yoongi sit there, still as stone and just as smooth until it's well into the early evening. And then Jimin sighs, wrapping his arms around Yoongi and holding him close.
"How long have you known I was out here?" he asks, and Yoongi shrugs, pulling Jimin into his lap by his waist.
"I don't know, Minie... at least fifteen years," he admits, and Jimin whines, burying his face in Yoongi's frigid shoulder.
"So it was you this whole time? Namjoonie-hyung told me I was imagining things, but I knew something was out here watching me," Jimin says, mouth smashed against Yoongi's neck.
"I just wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. And you've been doing a bad job, Jimin! You've isolated yourself. You do the bare minimum, and you mope. That's not good enough. You should-"
"I stopped aging. I noticed about five years after you were gone. Everyone else was getting older, and I just... looked the same. It's like I've been frozen," he mutters, and Yoongi nods.
"I noticed," he says casually, running a hand through Jimin's hair. Jimin rumbles quietly, a soft purr resonating through his chest. He leans into Yoongi's touch.
"I thought I was... cursed or something. I thought I displeased the moon goddess and that she was punishing me. But... Yoongi you're so fucking stupid. I'm not aging because you're not aging. Wolves mate for life. Our souls are literally interconnected. Were you planning on letting me suffer for eternity?"
"No, of course not!" Yoongi says, fingers tightening in Jimin's hair. Jimin pulls away from his neck, looking Yoongi in the eye, "I didn't even really mean for it to last this long. I just... you mated human Yoongi, and that was a big deal! Most wolves mate with other wolves. Mating is so important and special and... deciding to merge your everything with someone is a really big decision. And I'm not him anymore. He's dead, Jimin. He was fucking murdered in some back alley, and now there's just me ."
"You're the same man you've always been, Yoongi," Jimin argues, and Yoongi swallows thickly.
"No, Jimin. I'm not. I know you don't think I'm a monster, but I do . I'm a killer. My entire body is supposed to lure in prey and hurt and kill and... you deserve better than that. You deserve better than me."
"You're so dumb, Hyung. Stop trying to be noble. I don't want anyone else. I want you. I need you . You're my mate. You're my alpha," he reminds, moving to scent him, nose tracing along the delicate column of Yoongi's neck.
Yoongi shivers, letting his head fall to the side. Where his mating mark had been before, there's now just a delicate, crescent moon-shaped scar. It's smooth and one shade lighter than Yoongi's skin. Jimin kisses over it and scents him more rigorously.
"I chose you. I chose you when I was 22, and you chose me. And we are both condemned to eternity, but I can't be too mad about it if it's an eternity with you, Hyung."
Yoongi shakes his head, pulling Jimin up for a kiss, pressing their lips together. It's slow. Languid. It's the kind of kiss that promises as many more as they want. Jimin smiles against Yoongi's cold lips.
"I love you," Yoongi breathes into the space between their mouths, and Jimin nods.
"I know. I love you too. I missed you," he says, nuzzling their noses together.
Jimin's instincts are screaming at him to press Yoongi into his nest, scent him up, and never let him leave. Yoongi would gladly let him. He had always enjoyed Jimin's nesting.
"I missed you more, Minie. You have no idea... it's been torture watching you. I just wanted to hold you," he says, and Jimin hums, pressing impossibly closer.
"My mate," Jimin muses, grinning fondly, "My favorite hyung. Alpha," he sing-songs, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, nudging Jimin's shoulder.
"What, my baby needs reminding that he's my omega?" he whispers, and Jimin shivers, wolf howling in his chest. He nods, scenting Yoongi again.
When Jimin is finished, Yoongi scents him back the way that Jimin had taught him hundreds of moons ago when Yoongi was timid. He traces his nose across Jimin's neck, pressing a kiss to the place where an imprint of his own teeth sits proudly.
Yoongi's jaw aches, nostrils flaring. He can smell Jimin's blood, hot and coursing through his veins. He smells like dessert, sweet and alluring, and if it were anyone else, Yoongi isn't sure he would be strong enough to resist.
When Jimin is boneless, Yoongi extracts himself, licking over his extended canines and giving himself some space.
"Hyung?"
"I'm fine," Yoongi says too quickly, mentally kicking himself for his haste.
"Hyung, what's wrong?" Jimin presses, scooting closer.
Yoongi scrambles away, moving across the cottage floor more gracefully than Jimin has ever seen him move. He presses himself to the wall, knees pulled to his chest.
Jimin frowns, keeping his distance, "can you tell me what's wrong? I can't help if I don't know," he offers, and Yoongi shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
"You can't help. No one can help," he argues, willing his canines to retract again. Jimin sighs, turning to stare at the fire.
"Are you... hungry?" he asks, not sure how to phrase the question. Yoongi's pointed silence is as much of an answer as anything, "When did you last feed? You've been out here for over a decade... How are you feeding? How often? Have you been taking care of yourself?" he asks, and Yoongi bites back a whine.
He still doesn't like to think about it. Some might say that twenty years is long enough for him to have made peace with his situation, but when you're staring down infinity, twenty is a small number.
"I've been feeding on animals when I can't stand it any longer. I don't want to hurt anyone," he explains, "I've been living in a cave nearby. When the hunger is too overwhelming, I feed."
Jimin nods, quiet. He turns to look at Yoongi and smiles.
"You won't hurt me. I'm your mate, killing me would be suicide. And besides, you love me too much," he says, and Yoongi's eyes narrow.
"You're talking like you expect me to feed on you." Jimin nods, shuffling a little closer.
"I wouldn't mind. You should be feeding more often than you are. The cravings will be easier to deal with, and I trust you. Come here, hyung."
Yoongi shakes his head, scowling at his mate. He can't imagine hurting Jimin. He can't imagine siphoning his life force, stealing it for himself. He would never intentionally hurt him. He doesn't know how to explain it. The way that his desperation Is maddening. The way his jaw aches so intensely that it makes his head hurt. The way his entire body screams to hurt.
"Hyung, please? Let me hold you. You've been suffering alone for too long."
Yoongi's chest tightens. He falls in love with Jimin all over again.
Jimin was always selfless. He tore himself to pieces in order to patch up everyone else. Other people adored Jimin, but Yoongi always saw him. He always understood Jimin. He always loved him.
Yoongi lets go of his knees, slowly making his way back over. Jimin pulls him close, sure to keep his neck away from Yoongi's face.
"I'd never make you. But hyung, I always want to take care of you. You need blood. I have blood, and I'm willing to do that with you. You have always put up with my wolf idiosyncrasies. You fucked me through my heats. You took care of me after I shifted. You let me call you alpha. You fucking mated with me . You have always done so much for me so that I can comfortably be who I am. I'm not scared of you, Yoongi-hyung. I never have been, and I never will be." Jimin muses and Yoongi shakes his head.
"How did I get so lucky?" he asks, and Jimin beams, peppering his face with kisses.
"I don't know. Most people would have had your head for up and disappearing for two decades," he says, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to Jimin's lips.
"You can have my head if you want," he offers, and Jimin rolls his eyes.
"Nah. Your heart will do just fine... if I'm still allowed to have it, of course."
Yoongi stares at him and takes in his nervous smile, the way he worries at his bottom lip. He looks exactly like he did twenty years prior, but he isn't the same man. He's matured. He's suffered. He's gotten up every day and done his best, and Yoongi would do anything for him.
"Hey, last I checked, wolves mate for life," he says, and Jimin beams, cupping Yoongi's cheek.
"Damn right."
🙢
They settle into a routine almost immediately. Being together is as easy as breathing.
Yoongi doesn't sleep, but he lays with Jimin in bed, watches over him just like he has for the past decade and a half. He pets Jimin's hair and presses kisses to his skin. He wraps them up in pelts and holds him close.
In the morning, they cook together. Jimin cuts up vegetables and meat for Yoongi to prepare. They go out and tend the garden. They roll around in the soil. They take walks through the woods. Yoongi shows Jimin his cave, and Jimin's heart weeps for his mate, so cold and lonely.
They tell each other stories. They laugh. They cry. They make dinner side by side. Jimin eats, and Yoongi sits right beside him, basking in their closeness.
And two weeks later, when Yooni is irritable and won't let Jimin get within a meter of him, Jimin smiles knowingly.
"I know you have your whole self-righteous thing going on, but Hyung, you need to eat. You should probably be feeding once a week at the least. You're just torturing yourself," he says, and Yoongi glares at him.
He makes Jimin breakfast, snapping at the wolf any time he tries to come over. He hands him the meal and then sits on the bed, letting the smells swathe him.
"Can I see them?" Jimin asks while he's washing his plate.
"See what?" Yoongi grumbles from his place on the bed.
"Can I see your teeth? I would like to see them," Jimin explains, and Yoongi goes rigid, shaking his head.
"No. They're ugly. They make me-"
"I was so scared the first time you saw me shift. I was scared you'd look at a wolf and be disgusted. I was so afraid you'd stop seeing me and start seeing a monster. But do you remember what happened?" he asks, and Yoongi is quiet, watching him pace in their small home.
"I called you my pup," he says, and Jimin grins, staring at his hands.
"Yeah. You came over and offered me your hand. You let me sniff you, and then you pet me. You told me I was the prettiest puppy you'd ever seen." Jimin bites his lip, "We played fetch."
"Yeah, you're just an overgrown dog. You're still you when you're a wolf. It's not like you forget me," Yoongi says, and Jimin nods.
"We have more in common now than we did before, Hyung."
Yoongi watches him for a while before he sighs, walking over cautiously. From a meter away, the scent of Jimin's blood is overwhelming. He smells sweet. Yoongi's jaw aches. He grimaces, and his canines gleam in the morning light.
Jimin stares, reaches out a hand, and stops himself, "My predator, Hyungie... it's kind of sexy."
Yoongi's eyes widen, and his mouth snaps closed. Jimin giggles, eyes disappearing into crescent moons. Yoongi lets out a breathless laugh, taking a tentative step forward, while Yoongi speaks, "Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Are you seeing things?"
Jimin rolls his eyes, shoving Yoongi's shoulder when he's close enough, "No. But I am a werewolf. The whole biting, predator, marking, claiming thing kind of comes with the territory." Yoongi's hands find Jimin's waist, and his eyes go to Jimin's neck.
"Speaking of marking... I was thinking," Jimin says, and Yoongi's eyebrows arch. He makes a noncommittal noise, "We're still mates, but I can't feel you like I used to... I was wondering if we could try renewing our making bites?"
"Are you joking?"
"No, I'm not joking! We're still Jimin and Yoongi, but you're not human anymore. I wonder if our bond will be normal again if we give each other fresh mating bites. We don't have to, of course. I don't want you to feel pressured."
Yoongi stares at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Jimin's lips.
"I don't know if I'm ready for that. Which isn't a no. I would love to update our bond, but I think I need some time," he says, dropping his gaze to the floor.
Jimin smiles, nodding and pressing a kiss to Yoongi's soft cheek, "take as much time as you need, Hyung. We have forever, after all."
🙢
A week later, Jimin wakes up to a pacing mate. Yoongi is playing with the hem of his sweater. It's oversized, falling to his midthigh, and Jimin takes a moment to appreciate his bare thighs. The early morning autumn chill is pervading the cottage. Jimin watches him. He's so beautiful, soft and muscled and everything Jimin could have asked for.
"Would you really be comfortable? With me drinking your blood?" he asks, and Jimin grins, sitting up and patting the bed.
"Yes." The answer is immediate, and Yoongi makes his way over.
"It would be safer to try now. I'm not so thirsty that everything hurts. I think it will be easier to stop," he explains, and Jimin links their fingers together.
"I trust you," Jimin reminds him, "How do you want me?"
Yoongi bites his lip, leaning over to press a kiss to Jimin's shoulder, "What would you like?"
Jimin lets his head fall to the side, the column of his neck on display, and Yoongi feels the pleasant ache of his canines extending. They're still holding hands when Yoongi leans forward, biting into the soft flesh of Jimin's throat.
Yoongi squeaks, pressing closer while he drinks, and Jimin shivers, a soft moan spilling from his open lips.
Yoongi presses him down, moving to straddle his hips while he drinks, eyes fluttering closed.
It's different from any physical experience Jimin has had. He feels light, floaty, almost numb except for the sting of his neck. It reminds him of mating, the euphoria paired with the sharp pang of teeth. Jimin's free hand moves to Yoongi's hip. Jimin keens, moaning again.
A minute later, Yoongi pulls back and licks over the puncture wound on Jimin's neck. The shifter is shaking, overwhelmed by the feeling. When Yoongi opens his mouth, Jimin tugs him forward, crashing their lips together for an open-mouthed kiss.
He can taste the iron tang of himself on Yoongi's tongue, and he feels a touch feral, pressing his hips up into Yoongi's. They make out like that, Yoongi grinding into Jimin while their tongues press together. And Yoongi is convinced that this is heaven.
When they separate with heaving chests, Jimin is looking at Yoongi like he's the meal.
"The next time you do that, will you fuck me after?" Yoongi nods, laughing breathlessly. He wonders again how he could be so lucky.
🙢
Months pass and Jimin wakes one morning, pillowed on Yoongi's chest. It's snowing outside, and Jimin presses closer to his mate, grumbling about how fucking cold he is. When Yoongi offers to add more wood to the fire, Jimin growls at him, burrowing into his neck.
Yoongi laughs, rubbing his back and pulling the pelts tighter, "So I was thinking," Yoongi says, faking casual, and Jimin's eyes slide open while he nuzzles at Yoongi's neck, "Remember when you mentioned mating again?"
Jimin sits up, eyes wide. Yoongi smiles up at him, reaching to smooth out his hair.
"You're ready?" he asks, and Yoongi nods.
"I figure, you let me feed on you every week, and I've never hurt you. But remember not to actually drink my blood or you'll be... a werepire?" he says, and Jimin snorts, nose scrunching up.
"I know, baby. No blood-drinking. Just biting. God, I can't wait to mark you up," he says, his pupils dilating. Yoongi chuckles.
"You're turned on now? I figured we could make an evening out of it," Yoongi says, tracing Jimin's cheekbone. The omega shakes his head, eyes locked on Yoongi's neck.
"Why wait when I could have you now?" he asks, and Yoongi sits up, pulling Jimin in for a kiss.
"What's the rush, omega? We have forever, after all."