Day 1 - HOT by SVT

The West.

The name alone strikes fear into many's hearts. It's a lonely place, a disconnected place, a dangerous place. There, only the capable remains standing amidst the rolling sands and whipping winds. 

Dwellers there braved the day with aimless desperation, praying feverently for the calming breeze of dusk, longing helplessly for the sweet embrace of the night, and for the cool mercy of darkness. 

As the sun made its gradual descent down a path of blazing orange, a muted shadow gracefully spread across the golden sand, dyeing it a bruising purple. 

In the vast expanse of violet, a tiny pub stood tall, jutting out like an unwelcome pimple, an eye-sore on a perfect picture. 

A blemish, like him. 

Despite the dimming sky, the glow from the tavern wasn't faint. It travelled far and wide, like the sun, a guiding light for lost travellers. 

Similar to a moth drawn to flame, a dark monster car crept towards the pub, swirling up puffs of sand and dust. It pulled up adjacent to the pub and a figure noiselessly jumped down. 

It was a man, tall and confident, donned in soft, subtle shades with a hood concealing his face. 

His gloved hand braced on the mahogany door, the entrace to the pub, before he pushed it open. 

A beam of vibrant, aureate light spilled onto purplish ground, the sound of music magnifying by a tenfold. The steady thump of music reverberated, slicing through the quiet desert night harshly. The music itself was deafening, pressing into the figure's very bones, pumping into his blood, stealing his breath. It shook him to his core. The smell of alcohol and sweat wafted through the air fom deeper inside the pub, floating to the entrance. The hooded man wrinkled his noise in disgusted yet he was undeterred.

It was as though he had just opened the gateway to another world. 

The man ducked stealthily inside. His shadow briefly covered the light from the tavern before the door slid shut silently, once again blocking out the desert, allowing it to return to its former serenity. 

Everything faded back into a peaceful repose, almost like the world itself was lost in reverie, like the figure never appeared and disturbed its peace. 

Back inside the bar, the hooded man melted seamlessly into the crowd, pushing his way through the throng of sweaty bodies all moving in rhythmic oscillation agaisnt one another. 

Like a man on a mission, he made a beeline for the bar. 

"A margarita, please, Woozi." The man said finally, sitting down on a high steel stool. His voice was fine and smooth, carrying an air of aplomb. His eyes met with the bartender's, Woozi's.

Their shared gaze was transient, fleeting even, but it was enough to set the man's skin on fire. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, not missing how Woozi's piercing eyes were intent on following the small pink tip, zeroing in with laser-focus. The slight hitch in his breath wasn't unnoticed either.

The man slowly relaxed his posture into something akin to a languid slouch, dropping his head onto his palm with a smirk.

He even returned the favour by tracing the movements of the bartender as the latter mixed his drink. The sound of ice hitting the glass and liquid sloshing in its clear confines was much louder than it should've been in a busy bar. 

Yet, much louder than anything else was the constant beat of his heart sounding loudly in his ears. The man swallowed. 

"Your drink, Hoshi." Woozi spoke, his tone was as sweet as honey but when Hoshi looked into his eyes, he saw the stare of a preadator, a barely restrained hunger burning brightly. 

Hoshi felt heat rise up his cheeks even as he downed the drink into a few gulps, head titled back and eyes closed. His hood fell down, revealing a shook of silky blonde hair. 

Woozi's eyes followed the bob of Hoshi's Adam's apple, his own gloved hands clenching unconsciously into fists. When Hoshi dropped his head to look at Woozi through his long lashes, Woozi could swear that the desire in those boundless irises was no longer intangible. 

It was beguiling and unsettling how Hoshi found himself gravitating towards the bartender, leaning over the table, nearing the latter's face until he was only a breath away. 

Perhaps on someone else, Woozi would've found it unctuous, another drunkard he's have to deal with but not with Hoshi, not when the smirk he gave him was so lascivious and tantalizing. 

"Anything new on the menu?" Hoshi equivocated, moving back a bit. He was stopped by a hand on his collar, firmly holding him in place. 

Woozi's lips ghosted across his, a feather-light touch of his hand stroked Hoshi's cheek, gone as abruptly as it came. He almost whined when the warmth pulled away. 

Right, he felt so hot. He wasn't exaggerating when he thought that the sun itself was caressing his skin, leaving goosebumps instead of scorch marks. His blood boiled and pounded in his ears, a restless buzz thrummed in his limbs. 

He was losing his control.

If he had any to begin with. 

Did he?

No, he concluded. Not with the way Woozi's eyes alone undressed him, debauched him, claimed him.

Fog clouded his brain, distracting him from his point of visit and filling it only with Woozi. Of his scent, his touch, him. 

He looked away to steal a cursory glance at his empty glass, looking for a distraction only to catch sight of his own florid countenance.  

Hoshi had had enough of Woozi's obstinate teasing. 

In the blink of an eye, Hoshi stood up, his hand wrapped around the burning nape of Woozi's neck, the cool metal muzzle of a gun resting squarely on his forehead. 

Breathing heavily, Hoshi tilted his head to the side, his breath tickling the skin just beneath Woozi's earlobe. "I'll say it again, anything new on the menu?" 

For a man with a gun to his head, Woozi was more than calm. He smirked. 

"Patience." He replied simply, as if that explained everything. Hoshi couldn't suppress a shiver when he felt the searing touch of Woozi trace the expanse of his neck, the sting of pain when he bit down on the skin just below his jaw, the rush of pleasure as his lips sucked a visible mark. 

The people at the bar were also smart enough to ignore everything that happened. Pretending that they didn't notice the metallic glint of a locked and loaded gun. Leaving them isolated in a world of their own making, their little fantasy. 

"Don't think I wouldn't dare to kill you, Woozi." Hoshi grunted.  

Woozi knew it was ostensible the moment those words left his mouth. They both knew it was nothing but a bluff. 

"Then fire at me, Hoshi." 

Click. Bang. 

It was a frenzy of lips, teeth and tongue. Hoshi didn't know where his mouth ended and Woozi's began. His brain only focused on the mind-numbing pleasure he got from the way Woozi was sucking on his lip. He let the shorter man tug at his hair, mussing up the blonde locks as he deepened the heated kiss. His tongue slid against Woozi's, eliciting a soft groan from the other.

He didn't even get to react to that delightful noise as Woozi sunk his teeth into Hoshi's bottom lip, breaking the tender skin and filling their mouths with the iron tang of blood. 

Hoshi fought a losing battle with his concupiscence. He only pulled apart because his lungs burned.

A drop of crimson blood trickled down his lips, marking a path down his chin.

Woozi sensually licked it up, tugging at Hoshi's bottom lip lightly again and finally backed away.

The sudden ache in Hoshi's arm reminded him that he was still holding up his gun, aimed at the shattered glass behind Woozi. All that's left of the poor glass was the broken base and a steaming bullet hole right above it. 

When Hoshi looked at Woozi again, he noticed that a shard of glass had sliced the skin right below his eyes, the angry red cut bled more crimson blood. Hoshi sucked on his bottom lip as he ran the pad of his thumb across the red trail, swiping the droplet away and staining white skin red.

"Beautiful..." He breathed out, voice raspy and panting. Woozi smiled, pulling out a piece of folded paper from his pocket.

Before Hoshi registered what was happening, Woozi had already reduced the distance between their lips until only the thin slip of folded paper remained between them. 

Hoshi felt the pressure of Woozi's lips through the paper, igniting his innate hunger for Woozi again.

A dissatisfied sound erupted from Hoshi's as Woozi pulled back, a playfully domineering smirk resting on those plush lips.

How Hoshi ached to simply ravish the man before him. 

He limply reached a hand up to catch the piece of paper before it fell, slipping it into his own pocket. There would be plenty of opportunities later on to read its content, now was not one.

Woozi stared at the enigmatic man standing in front of him, perfectly messed up and longing for more. He lifted himself onto the table, settling on tilting Hoshi's chin up so that he looked up at Woozi instead. 

"It's nice at night, isn't it Jihoon?" Hoshi's voice was lowered into a whisper even Woozi could barely catch.

Although nighttime was when the bar flourished, when Woozi was alive, both of them knew intimately that they only craved the day. 

"... There is something simply cathartic about the day, Soonyoung." Woozi lowered his voice as well, shaking his head. His hand was gentle, holding onto the one under his chin like it was something fragile. Hoshi sighed but nodded. 

"So is the night not enough for you?" 

Woozi shook his head.

Hoshi's lips formed a pout, his grip tightening so Woozi would look into his eyes. 

"Three more moons, Jihoon. I promise." 

Woozi nodded, his gaze no longer faltering. Even though their nights will continue to be tainted red until Hoshi makes good on his promise, Woozi trusted him. Trusted him with his whole soul.

He will wait patiently until his skies were no longer red, until they could freely say each other's names.

Soundlessly, Woozi slid a shot to Hoshi, holding up one of his own with a small smile. The two lovers lost themselves in each other's presence, disappearing among the bodies of strangers, fighting for the day of freedom. 

Cheers to our utopia of red skies and eternal burning light.

I will be your shadow, so face the sun, my darling.