Work Text:
“Shit!” Kim Dokja hisses after his thigh scratches against a thorny bush, scraping at his skin. It’s nastier than he thought; a drop of blood descends slowly down his knee. He regrets rolling his shorts up, but it was deemed necessary in the scorching weather.
There's rustling behind him, and he turns to the sound. Yoo Joonghyuk carries a cooler with a frown, face slightly hidden from the shade of his hat. When he approaches, Kim Dokja takes notice of the change in demeanor, back straightening up as his eyes widen. Upon rooming with Yoo Joonghyuk, it wasn’t difficult to comprehend what that shift meant, especially with how loud his presence became.
Frankly, it really is unfair that Yoo Joonghyuk possesses so much power from simply existing.
“What happened?” Yoo Joonghyuk says, eyeing the cut on his leg. He doesn’t sound concerned, not that he would ever be anyway, but it’s rather poorly concealed curiosity.
“It's not as bad as it looks. See?” He feigns indifference, raising his leg to shake it a little, which only makes the blood move further until it reaches the inside of his sock. Ew.
This, however, does the opposite of placating the man. He grins widely, revealing fangs that rival the heatstroke-inducing sun.
You’re joking.
“Seriously?” Right now? His words do absolutely nothing, and Yoo Joonghyuk drops the cooler before approaches slowly, tilting his head with the focus of a predator. A bead of sweat rolls down Kim Dokja’s temple, and with a few strides, the other is already too close for comfort, sinking to the ground so he can get a minuscule taste of blood because, for some reason, he is always fucking eager for it.
The outside of Kim Dokja's thigh is held in place as a cool tongue swipes at the scratch. He can't help but squirm at the sensation, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s iron grip solidly keeps him in place. If it weren’t for that, he would’ve kicked Yoo Joonghyuk in the groin. Vampire strength truly is undeniably amazing. And infuriating.
He moves towards his inner thigh, taking off his hat for... better access, and Kim Dokja tries really hard to pretend he's just some animal, maybe a domesticated wolf, and this is completely normal, but then Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips move as well, lightly sucking onto skin that Kim Dokja has to grab a fistful of his hair to get him to stop.
It doesn't work. Yoo Joonghyuk just gets more ambitious.
Tug.
Tug.
“Y—” He swallows back an embarrassing sound, mortified at how breathless he sounds. “Yoo Joonghyuk. Cut it out.”
The man leaves a long, deliberate lick before parting, still holding onto Kim Dokja. “Sit.”
“Excuse me?” What’s his deal? Talking to him like a dog as if Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t the one licking his leg like a freak.
“Sit. I'm not done.”
Kim Dokja doesn't get it until he cranes his neck downwards. The trail of blood remains. A laugh of disbelief escapes him. “You didn't even get my blood after all that?”
“I missed a spot.” He deadpans.
It’s an understatement to say Kim Dokja is unamused. “You missed several.”
Similar expressions stare back at each other, both unwilling to back down from whatever the hell this is. Arguments always seem half-baked, fighting for the sake of it and nothing more. Kim Dokja tries not to think about how Yoo Joonghyuk is practically kneeling in front of him, looking up at him with a milder version of anticipation that he cannot help but find cute in a subjective way, and another second thing that he would rather not name.
He sighs, hoping to sound exhausted instead of extremely affected. “Fine.” Then he sits on the warm grass, and Yoo Joonghyuk raises his bloody leg so that his ankle rests on his shoulder. “Hey—woah.” The motion tugs him closer, their chests almost bumping—he can see his own reflection in those crimson irises.
His heartbeat quickens, but for all the wrong reasons. He wonders if vampires have some sort of power with how out of breath he feels; in the haze, Yoo Joonghyuk could suck him dry. Though it doesn't sound so bad, in fact…
Blinking harshly, Kim Dokja tries to regain himself. This close, their warm breaths mingle. His mouth is filled with cotton. Yoo Joonghyuk stares, stares, and stares. Eyes betraying something beyond thirst.
Hunger.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Kim Dokja cracks a grin. “Are you gonna get on with it?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stays silent.
“What's the point of asking for permission if you didn't do so–!” Long fingers squeeze at his calf, nails digging into skin. “Ow!”
“Be quiet,” Yoo Joonghyuk demands, moving his head to bite the flesh above his knee. His fangs thankfully don't prick him, but strangely he almost feels remorseful. Maybe it just feels too anticlimactic.
Yoo Joonghyuk rests his open mouth on his thigh, never once breaking eye contact. Kim Dokja thinks all this is unnecessary. Could he just hurry it up? Kim Dokja leans back to rest his weight on his palms, desperately needing to steady himself. A red tongue takes a leisurely lap, light and intentional, and he cannot turn away from those dark eyes that lock him in place.
Kim Dokja’s head tilts to the side, lip caught in his teeth as he finally shuts his eyes, feeling too overwhelmed to even look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s direction. As he moves up, up, up with heavy breaths, Kim Dokja’s blood spikes south.
Shit.
“You seriously need to stop doing this,” Kim Dokja grits out, eyelids tightening.
He feels Yoo Joonghyuk's grin, teeth trapping the thin skin of his thigh. “You seem to like it.” Then he’s moving lower, and he’s dangerously close to— to his fucking—oh my god, Kim Dokja’s going to die.
The man notices, pausing his ministrations—much to Kim Dokja’s… relief? Disappointment? He’s not too sure what to feel. Yoo Joonghyuk lifts his head to assess Kim Dokja’s state. “Are you—”
Kim Dokja holds his breath for what feels like hours. An uncharacteristic look of surprise flits between Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, jaw slack from where he’d previously been—
“Where the hell are you guys?!” Han Sooyoung’s voice suddenly echoes a few feet away, most likely from where the van was parked.
Shit.
Kim Dokja quickly slinks away from Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold and pretends he didn’t miss the feeling of being held like that, dusting off his clothes with his mouth set mulishly. “L-let’s go back.”
Yoo Joonghyuk simply raises a brow at him, giving him a once-over. Since he’s so good at nonverbal communication, he makes sure to keep his eyes pointedly low, right where Dokja’s lower half exists.
Bastard.
“Control yourself.” Kim Dokja mutters, feeling his entire face scrunch up. “I’m leaving first.”
EXTRA
With the movie long omitted, Yoo Joonghyuk's hands slide to Kim Dokja's upper thigh, making his move as he leans in on the couch. Kim Dokja turns his head so Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips meet the corner of his mouth.
The man huffs out of frustration, making sure to blow cold air into Kim Dokja’s face. “Why won't you let me kiss you?”
Kim Dokja blinks slowly like he's been caught. “Well…” He looks down at Yoo Joonghyuk's lips, gulping when a sharp tongue makes them glisten.
“It's not that I don't want you to. I’m just scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared you're gonna prick the inside of my mouth. Do you know how painful canker sores are? They take forever to heal.”
Yoo Joonghyuk nods before getting even closer, like the persistent jerk he is. “I’ll be gentle.”
“...Okay.” He replies easily, because he can whine all he wants, but he's never been good at putting up a fight. Their lips meet, an unfamiliar act that somehow feels strangely warm and innate, a sensation that gets his blood pumping. Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t lying when he said he’d be gentle, tongue coaxing and prodding at Kim Dokja’s own, slow movements that garner him pliant.
…It goes further than that, as it usually does. Whenever he finally thinks the bloodlust has simmered down, they always end up in a tangle of sheets and sweat.
Blearily, he assesses the remnant marks on his arms and legs, somehow visible even in the dead of the night. Weirdly enough, none of the bites were deep enough to cut. Yoo Joonghyuk lies on his side with an arm around Kim Dokja’s stomach, steady breaths that sound as light as a feather, so starkly different from the heavy weight at his side.
Yeah, he’s never gonna get used to this.