Work Text:
“Wonwon, I just realized something.”
Wonwoo glances up from his computer monitor to see Junhui drag his own desk chair over to sit next to him. Ever since they’d gotten engaged last winter—he still can’t believe their parents managed to pull off that ridiculously lavish banquet. Demons from that ancient generation definitely had time and money in excess—the two of them had converted Wonwoo’s room into their office space, and moved all of his personal effects into Junhui’s room, creating their shared bedroom.
“What’s on your mind?” He saves the lab report he’s currently typing up, and turns to give Junhui his full attention.
It’s Sunday, a little past noon. Junhui just woke up not too long ago. His hair is still damp from the shower, skin warm and soft. The gentle scent of their shower gel settles around him like a cloud of flower petals. Wonwoo prides himself in being a calm and collected man. But frankly, Junhui pushes his limits every single day. His fingers twitch over the keyboard, and the familiar, dull aching in his gums signal the lengthening of his canines. He passes his tongue over the sharp points, swallowing down the smoldering lust as his gaze sweeps over the boy sitting next to him, wholeheartedly trusting and oblivious.
Because that’s the worst part of it, of course. Junhui is completely unaware of the effect he has on Wonwoo. Talk about dangling a piece of fresh meat in front of a starving wolf. Junhui isn’t wearing pants, and the oversized t-shirt he’s draped over his slender frame barely reaches mid-thighs, exposing miles of golden, smooth skin. The only blemishes present are the distinct fingerprints and teeth marks.
Okay, so Wonwoo is responsible for those, but that’s neither here nor there.
With great difficulty, he pulls his gaze up toward Junhui’s face.
Another landmine.
The collar of the shirt—Wonwoo’s shirt—is too wide, sliding off of Junhui’s shoulder. The hickeys have already turned a little darker, catching his attention all the better. A healthy glow shimmers under his skin, the moles sprinkled over his face captivating. When their gazes meet, Wonwoo swears he can see entire galaxies swirling in the depth of his eyes. A gentle, contented little smile blooms across those plush lips, and Wonwoo stomach swoops.
Idly, he wonders if Junhui holds an inkling. Does he realize how alluring he is without even trying? Probably not. He is a succubus, after all. Which brings him back to the reason why Junhui woke up so late, looking as ravished, and yet radiant. Wonwoo is a man of his word. He vowed to keep Junhui fed and full. And he did. In more ways than one.
They could have kept going. They’re demons, unrestrained by human needs and limitations. His mate certainly wouldn’t have opposed; however, Wonwoo knew everything needed to be done in moderation. The last thing he wanted was to receive a noise complaint from the landlord. (A small and pesky problem that could easily be resolved by a mere flick of the wrist, but he doesn’t want to upset Junhui. The latter has a rather strong aversion to homicide.)
Breaking him out of his reveries, Junhui leans onto his side, head burrowing into the crook of his neck. Soft strands of gold tickles his chin. Smiling fondly, Wonwoo kisses his temple. “How come you never show me your demon form, Wonwon?”
“You have seen my demon form,” he reminds him. “At the engagement banquet.”
“Noooo…” Shifting in order to see him better, Junhui elaborates, “I mean, your true demon form. I may not be an expert on ancient family lines and clans and whatnot, but I know yours is at the top. Which means you have a non-humanoid form. I wanna see it!” his voice turns whiny as he unleashes the full power of his kitten-gaze. “Please?” Large, doe eyes look up at him under thick lashes. Full, rosy lips pucker out in a pout.
Wonwoo groans, pressing a hand over his face. “You really are a succubus,” he mutters, defeated.
A peel of giggles ring out in triumph, and a kiss is pressed to his cheek.
“Give me until the quarter ends, at least,” Wonwoo says.
“How come?” He blinks innocently. “Do you need a ritual or a summoning?”
Wonwoo chuckles. “No, it’s voluntary, but uh…” He scans their small apartment. “There is literally no room here. We’ll have to go back my territory to be safe.”
Junhui’s eyes balloon, and his mouth pops open in an O. “Really? Okay, let’s not destroy the building.” Pulling on his bottom lip, his brows furrow in consternation. “But now it makes me even more curious!”
Laughing, Wonwoo reaches to pull his lip free and kiss him. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”
He latches onto his mate’s arm and whines dramatically. “But we’re demons! I don’t have to be virtuous!”
Wonwoo laughs and shakes his head. “Says the most prudish succubus in existence.”
“Hey!” Junhui feigns anger, swatting his arm. He scrunches up his face in an adorable grimace. Then, he pretends to take a chunk out of his mate’s arm.
“Be good.” Wonwoo knocks their shoulders together. “Frankly, I doubt it’ll be as exciting as you’re expecting, but we can make a trip out of it, yeah?”
At the prospect of going on vacation, Junhui lights up. “Yes!”
・゜゜・．*:ꔫ:*.・゜゜・
And that’s how he finds himself in the middle of the woods a few weeks later, accompanied by a very excited kitten at his side. The couple are on summer break now. After a quick visit to their parents’ houses (complete with the obligatory interrogations from both sides about when their grandchildren will arrive), the two have returned to the human realm and travelled to one of the territories under Wonwoo’s jurisdiction. The location is quite picturesque. Magnificent mountains, lush and vibrant forest grounds, untouched by modernity. Puny villages sprout around the area sporadically like mushrooms.
In short, it’s in the middle of the boonies.
Wonwoo isn’t exactly thrilled to be back here, for a variety of reasons, but he has to admit that the scenery makes for great photographs. All the better when Junhui is his model. As soon as they had begun to enter the woods, Junhui had darted around from bush to bush, flower to flower. His smile shone brighter than the sunlight streaming through the canopy of trees, his laughter more melodious than the songbirds’ calls.
“Everything is so beautiful!” Junhui sighs happily, spinning in a small circle as he strokes the fluttering petals of wildflowers at his feet. “I can’t believe you own this land.”
Lowering his camera to check his shot, Wonwoo replies, “I don’t exactly own it, kitten. It’s just that the people here still believe in me.”
Mischievous, Junhui turns around with squinted eyes and a teasing grin. “Are you sure they know you’re a demon and not a god?”
Wonwoo laughs.
After hiking for about two hours, they finally start to see signs of civilization. The path is well worn, and the shrubs show marks of cutting tools. They must be approaching the village. Wonwoo doesn’t remember the last time he’s set foot here, but he can sense his powers reacting to something nearby.
“Wonwoo, look!” Junhui exclaims, pointing straight ahead, as he tugs on their joined hands and hurries forward.
Through the thick foliage of the tall trees, a small temple begins to emerge. So this is the source, he muses, flexing the fingers of his free hand. The building is old—ancient, almost. Moss grows on the old, rotten wood planks, the roof tiles are chipped, and thick cobwebs hang from corner to corner. Nonetheless, it’s clear from the patchwork of repairs that it’s been fixed and renovated many times over the years. Nature simply works quicker to deteriorate than human hands can work to restore.
As the couple stand at the bottom of the cracked steps leading up to the double doors, Junhui scoots minutely closer to him. He grips Wonwoo’s upper arm and whispers, eyes never straying from the ancient building.
“You don’t think it’s haunted, do you?” All of his excitement seems to have dissipated to be replaced by apprehension.
Exercising the utmost self-restraint, Wonwoo coughs to hide the laughter. Junhui is just too cute for words. “I’m sure it’s safe, kitten.”
With narrowed eyes, Junhui looks over at him. “You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, betrayed.
Wonwoo puts up his free hand in surrender. “Not at all.” Before Junhui can detect the slightest hint of laughter coming from him, Wonwoo squeezes his hand and leads him up the stone stairs.
As soon as the heavy door is cracked open on creaky hinges, the cool and spicy scent of incense tickles their noses. The interior is kept dim; all the windows are shut close. High in the rafters, thin rays of sunlight spills in through the few broken shutters. The only true source of light comes from the numerous candles adorning the huge statue in the middle of the praying room. Thankfully for the both of them, the darkness isn’t much of an issue for their kind. They see perfectly fine.
“Woah…” Gingerly, Junhui approaches the statue, neck craning to see it in its entirety.
Wonwoo is impressed as he checks out the intricate carvings on the walls and the huge columns upholding the roof, wondering how many man hours went into the construction of the temple—a sacred location worthy of guarding the magnificent statue. To successfully achieve such a feat, hundreds of years ago, no less, these villagers are worthy of praise. Idly, he wonders if they were motivated by admiration or fear. Probably, both.
Leaving his side temporarily, Junhui cautiously walks around the whole statue, mindful not to disturb all the offerings littering the floor among the candles and flowers. Eventually, he returns to the front and joins his mate. He bends at the waist in front of the base.
“So this is what you really look like, Wonwon,” he says reverently, smiling as he strokes over the name—Wonwoo’s full demonic name—on the golden plaque. “You’re so majestic!” He grins over his shoulder, straightening up to his full height.
The tips of his mate’s ears tinge red as warmth spreads. Wonwoo shakes his head, grinning to hide the embarrassment. His gaze flickers upward briefly. “It’s not exactly life-like, but it’s close enough.”
That sparks new interest in Junhui as his eyes flash even brighter. “Really? Let me see!” he pleads. “No one’s here. And even if someone comes, they already know about you, so no worries! Please?”
Just as Wonwoo is about to respond, indistinct voices drift past the area on the wind, disturbing the serene atmosphere. The two pause, heads instinctively turning in the direction of the conversation. From the volume of the footsteps, the people must still be rather far away. Villagers, no doubt, but the longer the seconds pass, the more agitated the crowd seems to get.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Junhui whispers. “Should we go check it out?”
Wordlessly, Wonwoo nods. He has a bad feeling about the situation. His powers are flaring up inexplicably. He’s attributed the spikes to being in the temple, among the offerings, but now he’s not so sure.
The couple head outside and follow the commotion. A few yards away from the back of the temple, they look down the hill to see a group of villagers wearing pale lavender robes. Designated individuals carry high poles with fluttering banners embroidered with Wonwoo’s insignia. They march en mass toward a huge altar set up at the bottom of the hill, right below the temple. The scent of incense is almost intoxicating, billows of gray smoke swirl around, nearly obscuring the crowd. The Chief Priest is chanting in the ancient tongue, words and phrases Wonwoo has heard repeated too many times to count. At the very front are two teenagers, each holding a bell, which rings out in harmony with the chanting.
He glances to his side to see Junhui watching the ceremony in rapt attention, eyes wide and sparkling. A small grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, transfixed and endeared by the innocence and sheer purity of Junhui’s interest.
As though sensing his mate’s gaze on his face, Junhui turns toward him. “Are they trying to summon you?” he asks, full of naivety.
Wonwoo bursts into laughter. “No, kitten,” he shakes his head.
“But that’s totally a ritual!” Junhui insists, glancing back toward the villagers. “Now I really do wonder if they realize you’re a demon that they need to appease, and not a god for them to worship.”
His mate shrugs. “It makes very little difference. They give me offerings, I leave them to live in peace. They piss me off, and I obliterate their crops, turning the land barren for a few seasons.”
Junhui’s mouth pops open in shock. “You have that much power?”
“You mean that’s not why you agreed to marry me?” he smirks. “Must be all the orgasms I give you, then.”
As expected, Junhui blushes bright red and swats at him in rapid succession. “Wonwoo!”
He cackles, throwing an arm around his mate’s shoulder and pulls him close.
Junhui readjusts their position, leaning into him as he continues to watch the ritual below. “No wonder they worship you like a god,” he comments a moment later. “Their entire livelihood depends on you. Ooh!” He straightens up, trying to see what’s brought on the new wave of commotion. “What’s going on now?”
“They should be bringing in the offerings now,” Wonwoo says, eyes flickering toward the parting crowd.
However, instead of the countless plates of food, barrels of wine, and bushels of flowers, as he expects, the praying villagers move aside to reveal a young girl in white robes. She’s guided toward the altar, head bowed low. Wonwoo’s brows furrow. He knew there was something wrong today. Are they really going to—
A wooden block is brought out. The girl kneels and lays her head over it. Her eyes are closed, fully resigned to her fate.
“Oh, my god!” Junhui exclaims. “No way. They can’t…”
The Chief Priest turns around, still chanting. In his hand is a ceremonial knife. Young maidens surround the girl, each person deposing a flower near the block. Quiet cries are heard, impossible to repress by the girl’s parents as they, too, bow toward the altar.
Damn these moronic villagers.
This is what Wonwoo gets for not showing his presence every once in a while. How many times does he need to repeat himself? He had wrongly thought that their ancestors had written it down somewhere that he doesn’t want human sacrifices. He’s going to have to teach them a lesson, hopefully this time it sticks.
He raises his arm. The wind picks up immediately, pulling on the clouds, obscuring the sunlight ominously. The temperature drops, trees sway violently. Junhui looks questioningly to him, and Wonwoo nods in confirmation.
Down below, the villagers huddle together, heads swiveling up and down and all around. Cries of confusion and fear mingle into the rustling branches. Some villagers struggle to keep the candles lit, others grip onto the tablecloth that covers the altar to prevent the entire content from spilling to the ground. The Chief Priest shouts orders for everyone to remain calm, wisely lowering the knife to his side.
“Lord Won’Seranoo has heard our prayers!” someone shouts with equal parts reverence and relief.
“The ceremony must resume!”
“Keep the candles lit!”
“Bring forward the bowl. Hold her down!”
As though reinvigorated by fear, the sacrifice fights against the arms restraining her. She cries, pleading. “Please, stop! This cannot be the only way—”
“Silence!” The Chief Priest roars, gripping the golden knife tighter as he struggles to stand upright against the hurling winds. “Have you lost your mind? Serving as a live sacrifice to Lord Won’Seranoo is the greatest honor!” He resumes the chanting, irritatingly determined as he trudges up toward her with eyes half-closed against the whirlwind.
“No! Please—” She screams as the Chief Priest swings the knife toward her.
Lightning flashes across the whole region, stunning the villagers. A second later, a roll of thunder threatens to crack the ground.
Fearful cries flood the altar as lavender robes huddle in close.
“This is a clear sign that Lord Won’Seranoo is displeased!” a middle-aged woman shouts above the ruckus. She must be the girl’s mother. Terrified, she runs toward her at the wooden block, clutching her daughter to her chest. “Something’s wrong. We must stop and—”
“Fools!” the Chief Priest cuts her off, hysterical. His eyes are wild and glazed over as he pushes himself back onto his feet. “Ignorant and insolent fools! Lord Won’Seranoo is most pleased. He is moving heaven and earth to show us his presence! She must die!” He points to the sobbing girl in her mother’s arms. “Her body to be offered to Lord Won’Seranoo, her blood used to cleanse the land! Anyone who opposes the decree can follow her to the grave!” Without warning he lunges toward the two cowering people.
Before Wonwoo can smack him away from them, a breeze zooms past his side.
He whips around just in time to see Junhui’s back. The latter rushes down the hill using his full powers. He arrives at the scene in the blink of an eye and easily blocks the Chief Priest’s swing. The man stumbles backward, sputtering.
An uproar surges.
“An outsider!”
“He’s ruined the ceremony!”
“He’s doomed us!”
“He must be punished!”
Junhui doesn’t pay the threat any mind, much more concerned over the people behind him. The pair of mother and daughter cry even harder, although this time, in gratitude. They thank him profusely, bowing low.
“Are you okay?” Junhui asks softly. Gently, he halts their bowing, smiling in reassurance.
“How dare you…” the Chief Priest mutters venomously as he glares at Junhui. With a flick of his chin, he signals to a handful of burly men. The brutes move into position, surrounding Junhui and the two victims. “Insolent wretch. We’ll give you the honor of serving Lord Won’Seranoo. We shall offer him three sacrifices!”
Wonwoo clicks his tongue in annoyance. He hadn’t originally wanted to show himself in person, but these people are denser than granite.
・゜゜・．*:ꔫ:*.・゜゜・
“Shh, it’s okay,” Junhui tries to comfort the little girl and her mother. “Please, breathe. Everything is going to be okay, I promise. Are you hurt anywhere—”
A hot and meaty paw grabs onto his upper arm and yanks him away from the two crying people. His head whips around to see five brutes, almost as big bears, blocking them off from the rest of the crowd. Preventing them from running away into the forest.
The Chief Priest slides into the circle, gaze murderous as he glares at Junhui—the intruder. Normally, Junhui wouldn’t be afraid of humans. He’s a demon. He can be several yards away in the time it takes them to blink. And yet, something about this priest causes goosebump to rise across Junhui’s skin, and he shudders.
The man is deranged. His eyes glint, his mouth opened wide in a cruel grin. When the man stands a foot away from him and speaks next, Junhui comes to fully understand why he had every reason to be wary. “You’re not human,” he states with manic glee.
Junhui’s blood runs cold. Eyes wide, he stares at him, “What… What do you want?” Even as his stomach quivers and his palms grow clammy, he keeps his voice even and steady.
The priest’s grin widens.
The wind shifts. Junhui smells it first, his senses much more sensitive than the humans’. Smoke, thick and heavy. Startled, he turns to look all around them. Just as he sees the first orange tips, the villagers shout and scatter.
“Fire! Fire!”
The brute holding him all but shoves him away as he runs off. The scene is a blur of pale lavender as the villagers run amok, directionless. The wind picks up. In no time at all, large and angry flames burst into life, igniting the whole forest, flooding the area. Junhui’s ears ring with the deafening screams surrounding him. He winces, trying to keep his bearings.
As overwhelming and disconcerting as the situation is, Junhui knows it’s Wonwoo’s doing. He’s in no danger. Which would explain why, even as the fire grows in intensity and marches all the closer to the group, surrounding them, Junhui feels no heat. Wonwoo’s aim is to terrify them into submission. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Well, at least, not yet.
Junhui is under no illusion. Even though Wonwoo is sweet and kind to him and their friends, the man is a high-ranking demon with a reputation and unparalleled powers. He knows, and he understands what that means. Soberly, he glances around them, eyes scanning over the frenzied villagers. How many will walk away unscathed, he wonders?
“Brothers and Sisters!” a voice rises above the din.
Junhui turns around and jolts, slowly backing away at the sight of the Chief Priest holding a sword. The shiny blade glints, reflecting the glow of the fire.
“Do not be afraid!” he continues to shout. Whatever little shred of sanity he held earlier, now completely evaporated. His long hair has come undone from the braid, black soot clings to his sweaty face. Eyes, bloodshot, dart to and fro. His grin, seemingly too wide for his face, contorts disturbingly. “Lord Won’Seranoo is merely testing us—our resolve and our devotion. He sent us this omen—” He points the sword at Junhui. “—as a challenge to overcome in His name. Come, Brothers and Sisters! Join me!”
He lunges at him without waiting for a reply, sword raised above his head.
Junhui sucks in a breath.
“Enough!”
A wall of air blows in between them, knocking the Chief Priest to the ground. The sword clatters as it falls from his grasp. Instinctively, Junhui whirls toward the direction of the invisible force and familiar voice. He searches, squinting past the bright fire. Around him, people are left even more frenzied, crying, shouting. Some giving up altogether, curling in a fetal position on the forest floor.
But Junhui doesn’t notice any of it, because at the fringe of the fire, a figure comes into view. Tall, majestic, fury barely restrained in his imposing gait as he crosses through the fire unharmed. In fact, the flames seem to bow toward him. The robes he wears are dark violet, so dark they look almost black. It’s only when contrasted with the ebony locks of his hair, falling down his back, that one can see the different shades. The Won’Seranoo insignia is in high-relief, embroidered with silver threads, standing proudly on his back.
Sharp eyes, lined with kohl, scan the scene before him. His brows pinch, the irritation rolling off of him in waves.
A deafening silence falls as every head turns in his direction.
“Lord Won’Seranoo,” someone whispers, full of awe.
As the realization hits, more and more hushed exclamations travel through the crowd. When at last, they fall to their knees and kowtow. The Chief Priest jumps as if electrocuted, scrambling into position, bowing incessantly, mouth continuously pouring out apologies and worship.
Wonwoo can hardly manage to hold back on rolling his eyes. Completely ignoring the deranged priest, he walks over to Junhui. His expression relaxes immediately, and a fond smile appears across his lips.
Junhui beams, closing his eyes when Wonwoo wraps an arm around his waist and brings him close.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, mouth at his ear. He kisses his temple. “I’m sorry for taking so long. I had to ensure that the vicinity was vacant.”
“You really are a softie on the inside,” he teases.
Wonwoo lets out a laugh, resigned. “Because of you. Are you hurt?” he repeats, gently stroking his mate’s arm.
Junhui shakes his head, smiling. “No, I’m fine. I knew I was in good hands.”
Chuckling, Wonwoo chucks his chin affectionately. “Give me a heads-up next time you decide to run off and put yourself in danger.”
“It’s not like I really planned to,” Junhui retorts, but his cheeks do tinge pink in embarrassment for the rash decision. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Wonwon.”
Wonwoo presses another gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs, hand squeezing his waist. “Now time to deal with this mess.”
The two look away from each other to see the entire village watching them in equal parts veneration and bewilderment. The little girl who was supposed to be sacrificed stares with round eyes, curled around her mother. She seems to snap out of the daze the quickest as she alternates her attention from Wonwoo to Junhui, then a small, hopeful smile stretches across her face.
Although perhaps not understanding fully who Junhui is to Wonwoo, it’s enough that he has come to her rescue. Which means that she won’t be killed. Junhui returns her smile, nodding mutely.
Next to him, Wonwoo takes in a breath to speak. “I want today to stay ingrained into your memories, for generations to come.”
The crowd shrinks at his deep and authoritative voice.
“The next time this village transgresses, I will not be so forgiving,” he warns, finally putting out the flames. The land is charred black for miles all around. Still, Junhui can spot the low roofs of the village. Wonwoo had kept the fire under control, lenient in his punishment. “Your ancestors should have taught you better. I do not want human sacrifices of any kind. They are completely useless to me.”
The villagers flinch, especially the brutes who restrained Junhui and the little girl earlier.
“Not only do I not enjoy human flesh,” Wonwoo adds. “But I am also married.” To emphasize his point, he pulls Junhui even closer. The latter has to bite onto his lip to keep the squeak from slipping out. Although, there’s nothing he can do to stop the blush from overtaking his whole face.
Astonished murmurs ripple through the crowd. The Chief Priest blanches.
Junhui didn’t think it possible, but even more blood drains from his face when Wonwoo turns to look directly at him. He’s as white as a sheet now.
“I should kill you,” Wonwoo states as a matter of fact, as though discussing a chore he needs to get done.
The man starts shaking like a leaf. “M-My Lord, I… Pl—please, I—”
“You are the Chief Priest. You should know how to read the signs. Why did you ignore all of my previous warnings?” Wonwoo demands. “Why were you so intent on killing the poor girl?”
He keeps stammering. Junhui has no idea how Wonwoo makes out the words, because it takes him so long to finally piece together what the priest says. Apparently, the villagers have encountered multiple bad harvests, each one after another. Then came the sudden death of their livestocks. Desperately, they sought out Wonwoo’s help.
“That’s not what I asked,” Wonwoo cuts through.
The Chief Priest clams up.
“When has a strike of lightning ever been used as a sign of approval?” Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo breathes in to calm himself. “I will ask one last time. Do not regret what I’ll do if you fail to answer. Why did you ignore my warnings in order to kill her?”
Silence.
“M-My Lord…” a small voice calls. “M-may I sp-speak, please?”
He and Wonwoo turn in its direction to see the little girl sitting back on her heels, her parents on either sides of her. The three of them bow down low, before raising their heads, but they keep their gazes lowered.
Wonwoo inclines his head. “Go ahead. Take your time.”
Her parents hold her hands tightly, as though to give her silent support. But something isn’t right. They keep glancing at something behind the two of them. Curious, Junhui peeks. His brows burrow.
The Chief Priest is staring daggers at them, biting his lip until it turns nearly bloody. The hands resting on his knees are turning white with the force of his grip.
Noticing where Junhui is looking, Wonwoo follows his gaze.
“You have nothing to fear,” he tells her and her family. “Simply tell me the truth.”
As though his voice and presence give them a boost of confidence, the family relax their shoulders. “Y-yes, My Lord.” She breathes in. “A few weeks ago, I inadvertently found out that Priest Jung was the one who poisoned the animal feed.”
A rush of gasps and exclamations erupt as the villagers hear the accusation. The guilty man stews in silence, livid but too terrified of Wonwoo to voice his protests.
“And what were his motivations?” Wonwoo asks.
She swallows. “E-every time we hold a praying ceremony, we all have to contribute a small fee.”
“Ah.” Wonwoo snorts, derisive. He throws Chief Jung a glance heavy with disdain. “So it was greed. And then you sought to get rid of her to keep your secret safe. Greed and abuse of power. Well, then, this is quite easy.”
At first, Junhui doesn’t understand, because Wonwoo turns away from the priest. But merely a second later, he hears it. The sharp and clear sound.
Crack!
Eyes wide, Junhui peeks over Wonwoo’s shoulder to see the man collapsed on the ground, his eyes rolled up, neck broken. The villagers sitting closest to him push themselves to their feet, moving as far away from the corpse as possible.
“Whoever becomes the next Chief Priest,” Wonwoo says, looking at each and every person present. “I hope you’ll draw lessons from your predecessor’s behavior. I’ll be checking up on it.”
They all nod and bow down low. “Yes, Lord Won’Seranoo.”
“If anyone ever tries to sacrifice a human to me again, I will burn down your village.” Even though his threat is serious, Wonwoo, nevertheless, clears up the sky and calms the winds down to a pleasant breeze. The sun returns, basking the region in warmth. The forest is still nothing but a pile of ash, but Wonwoo refuses to fix it.
“They need a reminder,” he tells Junhui as they leave.
Junhui sneaks a look at the little girl and offers her a small wave. She mouthes her thank you once more, before following her parents back to the village.
“I’m pretty sure they’ll remember even if you didn’t burn the forest to a crisp,” Junhui says. “Although I do have to say, I’m impressed you only punished the priest. I thought you’d have done something to his henchmen, too.”
“Who says I haven’t?”
“Huh?” Junhui looks at him sharply.
Wonwoo smirks, squeezing his mate’s hand within his. “They’ll see the results soon enough.”
Looking at the dark glint in his eyes, and the dangerous grin at the corner of his mouth, Junhui decides maybe it’s for the best that he doesn’t ask for more details. Let’s change the subject to something less scary. “What an adventure today has been!”
Wonwoo snorts, shaking his head. “The word you’re looking for is ‘misadventure,’ kitten.”
Junhui ignores the dry remark. “And I didn’t even get to see your true form!” he laments, pouting.
“You saw the statue, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but you said it wasn’t totally correct,” he reminds him. “Please? Wonwon~” He blinks at him, eyes round and imploring. “We came all the way out here. Please?”
Wonwoo looks at him, lips firmly closed. He’s adamant about staying firm.
Junhui ups the ante. He swings their joined hands, doe eyes big and wet. “You promised you’d give me everything I want during my birthday week.”
His mate holds his gaze for another handful of seconds, then ultimately groans. “Fine! Once! Just once, okay?”
“Hurray!” Junhui cheers, laughing happily as he clings to his mate’s neck and presses a loud kiss to his cheek. “Muah!” He giggles some more. “Thank you, Wonwon.”
Shaking his head, Wonwoo can only sigh fondly. “Back up a little. Watch out for the tree trunk. I haven’t shifted in a long time, so I can’t promise I’ll be able to control my limbs all that well. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”
Junhui listens obediently, careful as he navigates through the debris left in the wake of the fire. “Is here okay?” he asks from a dozen or so feet away.
“A little more. Keep going. Some more. That’s it. Okay.”
By the time Wonwoo approves, Junhui stands almost fifty feet away. Curiosity mounts as he wonders what his mate’s other form could look like. He knows Wonwoo is always careful when it comes to his safety, but surely he must be exaggerating this time, right? How wild and unruly could his limbs be that would necessitate this much distance between them?
Junhui gets his answers a few seconds later.
“Oh, my god,” he breathes out, wonder blowing his eyes to twice their size. As the shock slowly ebbs away, it’s quickly replaced by excitement and delight. He runs over, laughing.
The dragon—Wonwoo—is the size of a two-story house. His tail, Junhui realizes, is what had Wonwoo worried. Gingerly, Wonwoo curls it around his body, avoiding the boy bouncing toward him. While his body resembles that of a classic, Western dragon, the fins and tendrils are definitely Eastern, with wings the size of sails. His scales are a gradient of every possible shade of purples and violets, blending beautifully together, shimmering under the sun as he moves.
But as incredible as he looks, what knocks the wind out of Junhui’s lungs are the magnificent antlers on his head. They look similar to a hart’s, or perhaps, the comparison should be made with tree branches. They have the same consistency as tree barks, with small and delicate flowers and leaves. And thorns.
Wonwoo really does rule over nature.
Dazed, Junhui smiles dopily as he approaches and gently presses his forehead against Wonwoo’s. He strokes over the cool and smooth scales, and he senses Wonwoo’s tail gently wrap around him, bringing him in closer. He giggles.
“You’re beautiful, Wonwon,” he whispers, kissing the spot he’s just petted. “No wonder those people worship you like a god.”
Wonwoo snorts, breath hot.
Junhui giggles. “I’m serious. If I were a princess, I’d totally volunteer to have you keep me prisoner in a tower.”
Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo shakes his huge head. The movements are minute, though, his mate careful not to accidentally knock Junhui away.
“Well, at least now I know why we had to be out here,” he says, waving an arm around them. “There’s no way you could have shown me back in the city.” Burrowing against him once more, Junhui smiles contently. “Thank you, Wonwon. For making time to take me on this trip, for protecting me, for showing me your true form.”
Wonwoo nudges him gently, tail squeezing him just that tiny bit tighter.
Within the next second, Junhui is surrounded by human arms and a familiar strong chest. Grinning wider, he tucks himself into his favorite place, right into the crook of Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“You’re so easy to please, kitten,” he teases.
“Not true!” Junhui argues, pouting. “You’re just really good at making me happy.”
He’s rewarded with a wide grin and an adorable nose-scrunch. Wonwoo leans in and kisses him sweetly. When he pulls away, Junhui continues to chase after him blindly. Chuckling, Wonwoo gives him a few more pecks on the moles dotting his cupid’s bow. “So cute.”
They remain in each other’s arms for a while, content to simply bask in each other’s company.
On their way home, Junhui spots something that causes him to pause and rub his eyes. Among the destruction of blackened and dead trees, a vibrant green bush thrives. It’d be impossible to say that it survived the fire because it was hidden by bigger trees or rocks. This thorn bush is almost as tall as him, and twice as wide. Dozens upon dozens of roses sway in the breeze, each blossom and bud bursting with vigor. He’s only seen this kind once before, red with splashes of white, with a rich and fragrant scent, alluring and addictive. He could spend all day here, breathing them in and staring at their beauty.
He tells Wonwoo as much, mesmerized.
Junhui expects his mate to agree. Instead, Wonwoo laughs and reaches for the prettiest blossom. Its petal have opened slightly at the top, creating a small coronet of curls. He snaps the stem, and just like that first time when they were children, Wonwoo strips off all of the thorns with ease.
Handing it to him, he says, “All of those things, I could say about you, kitten.”
Face blushing as red as the petals, Junhui tries to hide behind the flower, eyes close tight in shyness. “Wonwon…” he whines.
Wonwoo pulls him in with a fond chuckle, and Junhui goes willingly. “The rose to my thorns.”
Junhui giggles. “Is that why you spared them?”
“Mm,” he hums. “Roses can grow nearly everywhere nowadays, but these are the most beautiful here, in this region. I wanted to show them to you.”
Laughing again, Junhui nods. Looking up to meet his gaze, he says, “Figures roses would thrive best on your land.” Cheeks pink, but heart full, he continues in a timid voice, “Like me when I’m with you.”
Wonwoo grins wide enough that his nose scrunch appears. “Good.” He leans in, and Junhui smiles into the kiss. “I love you, kitten.”
Dazed, but wholeheartedly content, Junhui grins, “I love you, too, Wonwon.”
・゜゜・．*:ꔫ:*.・゜゜・
A year later, the couple return to the region. Wonwoo says he wants to check up on the villagers, although the fact that no one has offered up live human sacrifices to him is a very good sign. Nevertheless, he thinks he should show up every once in a while just to keep them on their toes. Junhui goes along for the ride, enjoying all time they spend together, no matter where they go.
The first surprise comes when they stop by the temple. It looks almost brand new. The chips on the stairs have been filled and sanded down, pretty and smooth. The trees are well maintained, the grass mowed, the leaves swept. The doors no longer sit one higher than the other, the hinges have been oiled to get rid of any creaks, and the shutters have been completed fixed. If it weren’t for the small defects here and there, Junhui would have believed this to be a completely new building.
But that’s not the biggest surprise.
No, that’s waiting for them inside the temple.
The dim lighting hasn’t changed; the main light source remains the multitudes of candles adorning the base of Wonwoo’s statue. Bushels of fresh flowers are left as offerings, along with the constantly burning incense.
What has Junhui stopping in his track as soon as he crosses the threshold is the second statue placed next to Wonwoo’s dragon form.
“This… This is…” He can’t find his voice, staring up at the intricately carved marble, mouth ajar. He senses Wonwoo approaching, just as transfixed and awed.
“It’s nowhere near close to the real thing,” he mutters, a hand coming to rest on the small of Junhui’s back, “But it’s an incredible work of art.”
“But how?” Junhui gasps, unable to wrap his mind around the notion. “How did they even know I am? Much less how I look like in my demon form?”
Wonwoo shrugs. “Maybe their current priest has actual merit.”
That reminds him. The previous priest knew that Junhui wasn’t human. So maybe it’s possible that the person holding the current position can somehow ‘see’ them. Some humans do have special powers, after all.
Gradually, Junhui manages to shake himself out of the shock and look around. There are as many flower offerings around his statue as Wonwoo’s (although there is significantly more roses), along with candles and incense. Clearly, he and Wonwoo are considered a package deal. His stomach swirls happily at that idea. He spots a plaque and leans down to take a look. His eyes widen.
“Oh!” Quickly, he turns to Wonwoo’s. As expected, the inscription has changed just slightly. “Wonwon, look!”
Lord Herinojonsoki Won’Seranoo, Guardian and Protector of Yeong Village.
Consort Lord Toshena’Wen Junhui, Defender of the Weak and Helpless.
Wonwoo hugs him from behind and props his chin over his shoulder.
“Wow! But as incredible as this is, now I can’t help feeling the pressure.”
Wonwoo laughs, squeezing him. “Just be your kind, sweet, and considerate self. That’s how you stole their hearts in the first place.”
Blushing, Junhui turns over his shoulder. “I didn’t steal anyone’s hearts, Demon Lord, sir.” He pokes his cheek. “You stole mine.”
Completely unrepentant, Wonwoo grins. “Can you really call it theft when you gave it to me willingly?”
Junhui pouts, but relents. Wonwoo’s right after all. “Fine, you win.”
Laughing, Wonwoo hugs him tightly. “Indeed, I did.”