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Juntae wouldn’t call it an obsession. Or a fixation, for that matter. Not even an interest. Definitely not.
He just… he’s aware of Seongje.
It’s hard not to be when Seongje constantly finds his way into Juntae’s orbit, fighting with whichever friend he’s with. It’s hard not to see his giant, unhinged grin and playful eyes. And the blood. Mostly others, but the skin on Seongje’s knuckles breaks fast, thin from constant damage.
And every time it happens, when Juntae is hit by the sweet scent, he can’t take his eyes off Seongje and his hands. And thank god his friends are too busy fighting to notice how he follows Seongje's every move with his eyes. How his legs take an involuntary step forward every time he leaves after a fight.
But he wouldn’t call it an obsession.
And it’s not like it’s his fault, too. Seongje’s blood just smells so sweet. Juntae had never in his long life experienced something like this. Nothing this mouth-watering, nothing this perfect.
The worst part of it is, he can’t taste the blood. He can’t just go and ask. Not only is he not someone who could just walk up to Seongje, but he also can’t just ask to taste his blood. Vampires are not something that’s known in society, and outing himself as one is not on Juntae’s bingo card for this century. He might have to kill Soengje if that had happened, and it would be such a shame.
He rolls his neck in boredom, mindful of the others around him. Seongje is fighting with Gotak, as they usually do—it’s been fifteen minutes—and there are no flesh wounds. It’s all somewhat light punches, taunts and insults. Juntae is getting bored. He would love to get up from where he was thrown against the wall and break the fight up so they can go have that fried chicken Gotak promised him, but the persona he created for himself won’t allow it.
He’s not thrilled about being bullied, which is an unexpected side effect he didn’t expect, but this shy and timid persona is the closest to what he used to be—still is in some parts—before he woke up one day craving blood and wondering why he’s not dead as he should be. It’s what he feels most comfortable in. And it’s not like he can feel pain, anyway.
Gotak does some acrobatic kick into Seongje's chest that pushes him into the wall and a bunch of trash leaning on it. Sweet scent of blood fills the air, and Juntae can’t help a low moan that escapes him.
Thankfully, both men are too busy with each other to pay attention to it, and even if they did, Juntae would blame it on the sore body he should have. But, oh my whoever turned Juntae into a vampire, Seongje’s blood just makes him crazy. He can feel his gums start to throb with need and hunger.
He wants to bash his head on the wall. Why do they have to be enemies? Why did he have to obsess over someone like Soengje? He doesn’t seem to have any redeeming qualities. Juntae is so doomed.
Even Sieun would be a better choice, He’s crazy too, just in a different way, but at least Juntae would have access to him. He might have even told him he’s a vampire. Sieun feels like someone who would be reasonable about it all and just shrug in indifference. He doesn;t care about much that’s not Suho, so as long Juntae would promise to stay away they would be cool.
Seongje laughs at something in the background of Juntae’s thoughts, but he doesn’t care what it is. He only tunes in when he hears his own name. Before he has a chance to look up, a hand closes around his uniform jacket and pulls him up. He struggles for a moment to get his feet under him, but he’s held in a way that doesn’t really allow him to do so. He’s half suspended in the air, held by one strong arm.
He doesn’t even have to look up to know who’s holding him, but he does anyway.
Seongje is way hotter than he has any right to be with this type of personality. Or maybe he’s this hot because of his personality. He needs to have at least one redeeming quality, Juntae thinks. He would be willing to overlook the feral character if he could lick Seongje’s blood off his lips, he thinks.
He takes a deep breath, licking his lips, salivating at the mere thought of it. And then his eyes meet Seongje’s.
Lost in thoughts—and fantasies—he forgot they were in the middle of a fight, and that he was supposed to be scared. He curls into himself in a move of fear he practised to perfection, making his eyes big, begging and shiny. He knows he looks like a perfect victim. Seongje, however, doesn’t look at him like he’s one. His eyes are sharp in a different way than usual—they are sharp in consideration. There is a small frown on his face, one Juntae wouldn't be able to see if their faces weren’t so close to each other. But they are, so he sees it, and he knows it only means trouble.
He quickly glances around looking for Gotak, wondering why he’s not pushing Seongje off of Juntae and finds him between two guys in red uniforms, successfully held back by his arms.
Juntae looks back at Seongje and racks his brain for some sort of way out. An excuse that will make Soengje stop looking at him like that. But he comes up empty. With all the years he lived, he can’t find one excuse.
In the end, he doesn’t need one. Seongje cooks his head at him, and then his lips twitch in a smirk that doesn’t fully show before he manhandles him to the side and releases his jacket. Juntae falls to the ground with a soft thud, so he whimpers in pain he can’t feel.
Seongje puts his hands in his jacket pockets—it's the burgundy uniform that always makes Juntae extra thirsty—and just stands above Juntae for a moment. Juntae looks back at him, meeting his eyes, because he just can’t stop himself. He’s not sure if it was intentional; he thinks it was, it would make sense if it was, but Seongje, before dropping him on the ground, moved him away from all the dangerous garbage behind him.
Now that Juntae thinks of it, Seongje never really hurt him that badly. He was mostly focused on whoever Juntae was with. Sure, he got a punch here or there, but they were never that strong. More like a warning, a stay away. He’s not sure what to do with that realization.
Seongje sends Juntae one last feral smirk and walks away. Just before he’s about to disappear around the corner, he looks back, straight at Juntae. Huh.
He’s still looking at where Seongje disappeared when Gotak runs closer, asking all types of questions. He answers them absentmindedly, letting Gotak dote on him. From there, it’s another routine. They go to Gotak's house, where he patches him up—Juntae hisses in pain when appropriate—feeds Juntae ordered chicken, and they watch a movie and then Gotak falls asleep.
Only then Juntae sneaks onto Gotak's mat and bites into his bruised skin, feeling only half guilty that he’s feeding on his best friend. He’s feeling more guilty about the fact that while drinking Gotak’s blood, all he can think about is Seongje.
He still wouldn’t call it an obsession. Or fixation. Maybe an interest. Maybe. (Definitely.)
ཐི ₍^. ̞.^₎ ཋྀ
Juntae knew that day would come to hunt him at some point. But he decided to ignore it, pretend it never happened and just… deal with whatever comes when it comes.
And he doesn’t have to wait long.
It’s only two days later that he walks home by himself—all his friends are busy, and as much as he loves them, he’s kind of glad to have some time for himself—and he can smell Seongje squatting somewhere down the tunnel. He could turn back, choose the other, longer way home, but he really doesn’t want to. It’s been a long day, and he has homework to do.
Besides, he’s curious. He doesn’t think he bumped into Seongje alone before; he was always with someone. He’s not sure if it’s his luck or if Seongje simply doesn’t bother with him when he’s alone. Regardless of what it was, today is going to be different.
Seongje waits in his half-hidden spot until Juntae passes him by a few steps, and only then does he call out.
“Eunjang.” His tone is cocky, as usual, but there is a note of playfulness that’s foreign to Juntae’s ears.
He flinches in fake surprise and turns around to face Seongje. He morphs his face into a mask of fear and worry, hiding his curiosity under it.
Seongje isn’t wearing his school uniform; instead, he’s in black jeans, a black tee that’s skin tight and a black and red windbreaker. The skin on his knuckles is only half healed, small beads of blood clinging to the reopening wounds. He looks way too hot in Juntae’s opinion. Especially for someone who’s about to beat him up. And Juntae still wants to suck him dry. He sighs.
Seongje gets up, flicking his cigarette away—how did Juntae miss it? They stink—coming closer. Juntae stays where he is, captivated by the movement. Even the way Seongje walks is confident, somehow cocky and threatening.
Seongje stops a breath away, Juntae has to look up to keep eye contact—he shouldn’t have, he knows, but he can’t stop—and smiles in a way that makes Junta shiver. “Aren’t you an interesting little thing?” He murmurs into a space between them.
Juntae glances away, half because he thinks Juntae-victim would, half because Soengje’s stare reaches too deep for his liking.
“W…wh-what do you mean?”
Seongje makes a disapproving noise with his tongue, but his grin is still there. In a quick movement, he grabs the front of Juntae’s jacket and swings. His fist stops centimetres from Juntae’s face. Juntae, so distracted by the strong scent of his sweat blood, forgot to flinch.
“You act so meek… But you’re not.” He lowers his hand, but he doesn’t release Juntae’s uniform. “It took me a while to realise it.”
Juntae tries to focus on what Seongje is saying. He really does. But Seongje’s hand is right there. Right next to his face. All he can think about is how easily it would be to lean down and lick the blood from his knuckles.
Seliva floods his mouth, and he needs to swallow heavily to stop himself from drooling. He can almost imagine it. How sweet Seongje would taste, how good it would be to finally, finally put his lips on him. Juntae's gums itch with the pressure of his fangs fighting to come out.
Seongje shakes him slightly, bringing him back to reality. Juntae's eyes shoot to Seongje’s face, and the considering look he finds makes him sweat. Seongje finally releases his jacket, but he doesn’t go far. His hand travels higher, wrapping around Juntae’s throat. His thumb rubs a little circle right under Juntae’s Adam's apple.
“Sweet little thing.” He murmurs with a grin. “Where did your thoughts go, hm?”
Seongje’s eyes scan Juntae’s frame, stopping a bit too long at the front of his trousers hidden under his school shirt. And a small miracle that is, because, with horror, Juntae realises he’s hard.
He tries to take a step back, but Soengje's hand shoots out grabbing his shirt again. His hold is stronger than it seems and Juntae is forced to stay where he is, where Seongje wants him to be.
“P–please.” He whimpers, but he’s not sure what he’s asking for. His mind is a mess of want want want want and run run run run run. He’s not sure which part he should listen to, which will cause him more trouble.
“Eunjang.” Seongje says again. His voice drops so low that Juntae barely recognises it. It sends a shiver down his spine. Juntae feels his control slipping even further. They are alone. School finished some time ago already, and he doubts anyone will pass by. He could push Seongje to the wall and bite into his neck. He doesn’t think Seongje would struggle much; he would just go with whatever Juntae does, simply because he would find him fun. But he can’t do that.
He pushes Seongje's hand away, using more strength than necessary based on Seongje’s surprised expression and runs.
The sweet scent of Seongje’s blood hunts him all the way to his apartment, and only when he looks in the mirror does he realise why. In his manhandling, Seongje must have brushed his knuckles under Juntae’s jaw.
Juntae stares at the red patch on his skin for a long stretch of time. It would be so easy to drag his fingers through it and taste it. one simple gesture and he would have what he wanted for so long. It’s like a gift from the universe.
Juntae doesn’t do it. He’s worried that if he has a taste, he won't be able to stop himself. That he will get addicted. He can’t risk it.
He sighs and washes the blood away. To take his mind off of it, he grabs his phone, sending a quick text to his friend group asking if they want to meet.
His gums still itch with hunger, and there is only one way to fix it. He needs to eat.
ཐི ₍^. ̞.^₎ ཋྀ
They are in a cafe close to school, studying, purely because it was the only way Sieun would join them. It’s Friday, and Baku hasn’t stopped whining about how they should be at a karaoke place since they sat down, but none of them made any sort of attempt to switch venues. Everyone wants to give Sieun as much time to study as he needs, since he spends most of the afternoons with Suho, who’s still recovering. They met today as a group since Suho has a long afternoon of tests, and he doesn't want Sieun there. Juntae suspects he doesn’t want Sieun to see how much he still struggles after the coma.
Juntae is relaxing at the back of the booth, reading a manga he got yesterday, when the familiar scent hits him. He tenses, making Sieun, who’s sitting next to him, glance his way. Juntae ignores it, pretending to keep reading even though the letters blur together.
He prays that Seongje won’t see them. Or if he does, he will ignore their group. He has no reason to interact with them. They are in public, there are other people around. Why would Seongje come and pick a fight right now? He’s not that stupid.
He should have known better. Because with Juntae’s next breath, Seongje turns, and the grin that shows up on his face makes Juntae want to grab all his friends and run. He can’t do that, not without giving himself a way, so he sits where he is and pretends to read the manga even though he barely remembers what it was about at this point.
“And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any better.”
Juntae frowns at his manga while everyone around him freezes. Are they going to fight? Baku is standing up now, and that raises the chances of it by forty percent. Does Juntae even want them to fight?
He actually has to think about it.
On one side, having a very public fight is not something he should endorse. He should be in fact very against it. That’s what Juntae would do, he feels. On the other hand… He always steals some of his friends' blood after the fight because it’s when it tastes the best, full of adrenaline and endorphins. It has been a few days since the last time he ate, and he could steal a bite today if he plays his cards right.
When he gets out of his head, the argument around him is in full swing. Baku, Gotak and Seongje are in the middle of an obnoxious exchange of insults. He can’t really tell who’s winning. Seongje most likely would look smug even if he wasn’t winning. This is just who he is.
Juntae sighs quietly and looks up at Seongje. And then everything disappears again. Because Seongje, for all his smug glory, looks like he was hit by a car. His face is scratched on his side in a ‘someone used my face to wipe off cement’ and his lip is broken in a few places that keep opening every time he opens his mouth. He keeps licking the blood off when he gives Juntae’s friends a chance to talk back, but because he keeps grinning, the blood never really stops following.
Juntae swallows heavily. He can’t take his eyes off Seongje’s lips. How did he never realise how nice his lips are? How soft is his cupid bow curve? How plush his bottom lip is! How Juntae can see his gums when he smiles. It would be so easy to just—
“—te! Juntae!”
Juntae finally looks away from Seongje’s lips towards Gotak, who’s looking at him as if he grew another head. Juntae quickly drags his tongue over his teeth to make sure his fangs are still hidden. They are. He’s not sure what the problem is. But then he glances back at Seongje, and he’s still grinning, of course, he is, but he has the same look in his eyes when they talked in that tunnel.
Juntae shakes his head quickly and curls up on himself, trying to make himself look as small as he can. He’s not sure how he’s going to get out of this debacle. The argument starts again, something about ‘staying away from Juntae, you psycho’ but Soengje isn’t interested anymore. He winks at the group as a whole and, with the last—what Juntae assumes is—snarky remark, he leaves the cafe.
He hopes Seongje knows Juntae is cursing his existence with every fibre of his body. Not like it means much. Not when Baku turns to him and asks: “Why did you look at Soengje like you wanted to kiss him?”
ཐི ₍^. ̞.^₎ ཋྀ
Fine.
Juntae can admit, he somewhat might be, possibly, in low chances, obsessed with Seongje.
Just a little bit.
A regular amount.
Not in a weird way, too. Not in a “I want to wear your skin” type of obsession. More like ‘I wasn’t aware of it until last week, but apparently I would like to kiss you, but also can I lick your blood from your lips’ way. So… totally normal.
Juntae can name plenty of people who share the same type of interest. It’s not his fault they are all in mangas. He’s sure other vampires would relate to him, too bad he doesn’t know any. And isn’t that weird?
So, he’s being totally normal.
That's what he tells himself as he’s trying to pick a lock to Soengje’s balcony doors. He had to climb four floors, and it’s truly a miracle no one saw him. He’s not sure how he would explain that, which is a recurring theme in his life right now, all thanks to Soengje.
The lock finally gives in and unlocks with a soft click. Juntae, chanting ‘This is so normal. Very normal, it’s all fine,’ in his head, takes off his shoes and walks through the living room on silent feet.
He’s careful, as slow as he can, not to wake Seongje up, and that gives him time to look around. The living room is small but clean, almost to an obsessive level. Nothing seems out of place. Books on a small bookcase are sorted by size and colour, the plants on the top shelf are standing at an equal distance, and every blanket on the couch is folded into a triangle. It’s the opposite of what Juntae imagines the Soengje apartment to look like. There is no smell of cigarettes in the air, and that’s the weirdest thing Juntae expected. There is no ashtray anywhere in sight, except the one on the balcony.
Juntae isn’t sure what to think, but seeing that he's already inside Seongje’s apartment—it’s all normal, and fine, and not weird at all—he decides to follow through with his plan. He will do what he always does. Bite into an already existing bruise to hide it, and have a little drink. Whatever comes out of his fangs when he first bites into the skin will make Seongje feel good in the morning—less sore and less hurt— and Juntae will leave with his stomach full. It’s equally beneficial.
The bedroom doors are ajar, so Juntae pushes his head through the gap. The bed is half hidden from his spot, but it’s not hard to see the body-like shape under the cover in the full moon shining through the window.
And isn’t it somewhat poetic that the night Juntae decided to break into Seongje's apartment to finally grab a taste—which is again, very normal—is the night of the full moon? Juntae considers it a fate of sorts, or something equally romantic that he can blame later on.
Seongje’s chest rises in deep, even breaths that tell Juntae he’s asleep. So with the last deep breath, he walks into the room. He stops at the edge of the bed, suddenly unsure. Usually, he already knows where the bruises are. He helps to treat them. But with Seongje, it is a game of guess. He’s sure he has some, it’s Seongje after all, when wasn’t he in some sort of a fight? He can smell the blood too. But finding them in this low light might not be easy.
He drags the thin cover off Seongje’s body, and he needs to stop for a short moment. Seongje apparently sleeps only in his boxers, and the view of his toned chest—is that a six pack?—thick arms and even thicker thighs makes Juntae dizzy.
Since when has he been attracted to Soengje? He only cared about how sweet his blood smelled. He did look at the part of him that was bleeding, with a growing desire to bite into it, but it was never like that. Well, sure, Juntae always thought Seongje was attractive; anyone with eyes would. And it’s hard not to realise how pretty his eyes are when you have to look into them to gauge the level of danger you are in. And of course his hands. Always bruised and broken but still somewhat elegant.
Was he attracted to Seongje the entire time? Is he just stupid and didn't realise it earlier?
Juntae shakes his head. This is not the time to have a revelation regarding his feelings. He will do it later, when he’s not standing above Seongje’s almost naked body. Because now, it’s a bit creepy. Even Juntae knows that much.
He shakes his head again to clear it and climbs onto the bed. Now that he’s closer, he can see a big, painful-looking bruise around Soengje’s shoulder, spreading over his collarbone and lower neck. Juntae doesn’t feel pain anymore, but he still wants to hiss in sympathy.
But it’s also perfect. It’s big and painful. Juntae has so much space to choose from to bite, and by feeding he will be able to relieve some of the pain Seongje must feel. When Juntae thinks about it, he’s doing him a favour.
He climbs even further up, squeezing in the little space between Seongje’s torso and the edge of the bed and leans down.
His fangs are millimetres from the warm skin when a hand closes around his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, he’s on the other side of the bed, trapped under Seongje’s weight. There is a hand on his throat—and if Juntae were human, he would have trouble breathing in the next thirty seconds—and on his shoulder. In this position, Seongje is blocking the window, and Juntae hopes that in the darkness, he can’t tell who he is.
The hold Seongje has on him is strong, but Juntae is a vampire, so he gets out of it with little effort. He grabs the hand pressing on his throat and pushes it to the side, making Soengje lose his balance and Juntae uses it to slither from under him. He pulls on Soengje’s other hand, bending it behind his back.
He ends up straddling Soengje’s thighs, pressing one of his hands to his back and the other to the mattress. He’s not sure what to do. He didn’t expect Soengje to wake up. He didn’t even make any sound! But now he’s here, and he needs to think about a way to escape. Quickly.
He’s in the middle of internal panic when a leg wraps around his shin and pulls. Seongje moves at the same time, throwing him off, and Juntae ends up hitting the floor. Seongje is on him in an instant, and only his supernatural reflexes save Juntae from the knife aimed at his shoulder.
They wrestle on the floor for a long moment. Not even Juntae’s strength helps him against Seongje's fighting skills, and isn’t that—hot—worrysome? He doesn’t want to hurt Seongje, but if he doesn't give up soon, he won’t have a choice.
The moment he is on his back, laying under Seongje he curls—thanks god for his tiny size—and using one of his legs pushes Soengje off of him. He lands somewhere next to the wall with a loud thud, way further than he should, but Juntae doesn’t have time to think about it.
He’s on his feet in an instant, sprinting towards the balcony. He will have to jump, there is no other way. He might break a leg or two but that’s better than being discovered by Seongje.
He’s so close, maybe another two steps from the balcony doors when Soengje smashes on his back, sending both of them to the floor. Before he’s even able to orient himself, Soengje has him in a twisted hold. He trashes for a short moment to taste the hold, but he can’t get out.
There is a beat of silence, when Seongje catches his breath. It’s obvious this fight took a lot from him. Juntae can feel how sweaty he is in places they are pressed together. His right arm twitches, pain most likely getting worse with all this activity. But his hold is still strong. He still seems to be ready to continue fighting.
No wonder he’s the Union’s black card. The lunatic. If he were anything else, Juntae would never stand a chance.
And as much as Juntae hates to admit it, it’s over. He can’t get out of Seongje’s hold, he doesn't have enough fighting experience to even know where to start, and even if he did somehow break free, Seongje already saw his face.
So he relaxes his body instead, losing all the will to fight. He needs to focus on damage control. He could knock Seongje out once he releases him–or at least weaken the hold on him—and make him believe it was all a dream when Soeongje confronts him. It wouldn’t be that hard, Juntae thinks, even demons like Soengje must dream from time to time.
Seonge’s breath evens out in an impressive short time and then he just stares at Juntae’s face with that empty sort of look.
Juntae sighs. “Hi.”
“Eujang” Seongje says after a moment.
“So… You are probably wondering what I am doing here.” He says with a sheepish smile. “And it’s really a funny story.”
“Does it have anything to do with that apartment of yours and your non-existent family?” He says casually and Juntae freezes.
It’s not what he expected to hear. He never expected anyone to find out. No one ever did. The many teenage lives Juntae lived no one ever found out about his lies.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He tries but his voice is weak, filled with worry. Because he is. For the first time in this life Juntae is worried.
Seongje laughs. “When you started hanging around Baku and his sidekick I checked you out. Sieun too. You seemed so fucking boring and bearly bothered with it. But I was bored and you were an easy target so I broke into your flat. To see what dirt I can find.” He shifts slightly but not enough to allow Juntae any margin of movement. “How surprising it was to discover your family doesn’t exist? That you, Seo Juntae, don’t exist.”
Juntae swallows heavily. “Who… Who else knows?” Who will he have to kill?
“No one.”
It takes a moment for Juntae’s panicked mind to register the response, but when he does, he feels like crying in relief. He’s safe.
At least as safe as he can be with Seongje all up in his business.
“So. Why are you here little lier? Who sent you?”
“What? No one sent me! this isn’t some lame mafia movie, oh my god, Seongje.” He rolls his eyes. “No one sent me. I lied so I can have a nice life and make friends and whatever else teenagers do!”
Seongje shifts again, leaning down, and closing the distance between their faces to a worrisome distance.
And this close, Juntae doesn’t really have a choice but to focus on Seongje’s face, and all the wounds on his face. The one on his lips reopened when they were fighting, and it’s tempting Juntae more than anything else in his entire life, before and after he became a vampire.
Seongje says something else, but Juntae is too focused on his lips to hear it. Seongje has to lick the blood off his bottom lip every few words, his tongue leaving his lips wet and shiny, making the blood spread even faster.
Juntae needs to start breathing through his mouth because the sweet smell is getting too much. He really doesn’t want to lose it and bite Seongje.
Well… Juntae could, theoretically. It wouldn’t be that hard to lean up just a little bit and run this tongue over Seongje’s lips. He could pretend it was a kiss. A weird sort of kiss, but kiss nevertheless. Seongje wouldn’t have to know he’s a vampire. Junte could keep his secret and he still could have a taste.
Would it be wise? No. First of all, what if Juntae gets addicted? He has a suspicion that one taste will not be enough. Second of all, he can’t just kiss another man without a warning. Not if he doesn’t want to be punched.
Seongje shifts again, removing one of his hands, freeing Juntae, who’s too busy fantasising that he doesn’t even realise. Of course until Seongje’s thumb pulls Juntae lip up, revealing—what Juntae realises with horror and suprise—his fully extended fangs.
“What?” Seongje asks as Juntae snaps his head to the side, away from Soengje’s invading fingers.
“Fucking hell.” Juntae mutters, hitting the back of his head on the floor a few times. He’s so stupid. How come he can’t control himself around Seongje even a little bit? Ten percent would be nice, but even that would be stretching it. “Why is my life like this?” He asks no one. “What did I do to deserve it?”
Seongje, to his benefit, doesn’t try to force Juntae;s face back where it was, and where he could push his fingers into Juntae’s mouth.
“I think you should explain yourself a little bit, seo Juntae.”
Juntae bites his lower lip with his fang, considering it. And then he decides to fuck it. It’s not like he has that much to lose now. He looks back at Seongje.
“I’m a vampire.”
Seongje doesn’t respond for a long while. He just stares at Juntae with a considering look in his sharp eyes. And then he extended his hand again tracking his thumb over Juntae’s cupid bow. Juntae opens them without prompting, presenting his fangs on a figurative silver platter.
Seongje's thumb moves lower, tracing the outline of the fang. Juntae hisses at the unfamiliar feeling, but doesn't stop him. He watches Seongje’s face with his full attention, trying to be ready for anything.
Hope blooms in his chest with a warm feeling. Seongje didn’t run away, didn’t scream, didn’t try to kill him. Maybe, just maybe, Juntae can trust him with this? Maybe Seongje is the person he can trust with his secret. It’s an insane thought, but Juntae can’t get rid of it for some reason.
So focused on Seongje’s and his feelings—and his feelings for Seongje—he hasn’t realised where Seongje’s thumb ended up. Seongje presses the pad of his thumb into the sharp edge of Juntae’s fang, and milliseconds before he can break the skin, Juntae's instinct kicks in. In a move he didn’t know he could execute, he pushes Seongje off of him and rolls to the other side of the room. In the opposite direction of the balcony doors.
That was too close for Juntae’s liking. A second longer and he could taste the blood he’s been longing for so long. And it would be all Soengje. Juntae wouldn’t even have to feel bad.
But.
But he knows that this one drop wouldn’t be enough. That once he gets the chance, he won’t be able to stop himself. Not for a while. And as calm as Seongje seems, attacking him is not the right move.
He presses his hands into his eyes, taking a few deep, calming breaths. By the time Juntae looks up, Soongje is sitting where Juntae left him. He looks more curious than scared or angry.
“So… You’re a vampire.”
Juntae nods at his conversational tone. He stays where he is, so they're sitting on opposite sides of the room. It’s almost funny.
“It still doesn’t explain what you are doing here. In my flat.”
With a groan, Juntae gets to his feet and starts pacing in the small section of the room he claimed as his corner. Every question Soengje asks throws logs under his feet. He doesn’t know how to answer any of them. None of the usual answers would work. Soengje not only knows too much about him, and his lack of family, he claims to have, but he also knows he’s a vampire.
“Why are you not panicking about this?” He finally asks—shouts at—Seongje.
Seongje shrugs. “I always thought you were weird. More so in the past few weeks. Sure, the vampire thing is more insane than I imagined, but whatever.” He shifts to sit more comfortably. “And I won a fight against you once. If you try something, I will just have to win again.” He reaches into his sweatpants pocket and produces a pocket knife. Juntae stares at it with an open mouth.
“Do you just carry it in every pocket? And where did you get the first knife from? It was giant!”
“From under the pillow.” Seongje shrugs. “I have a lot of enemies, you know.”
Juntae can imagine that, so he just nods. Still, having knives stashed around the house seems really intense. He lives on the 4th floor, and his doors are basically bolted shut. No one is getting inside his place uninvited. Except for a vampire, but there are so few of them that having another one in this area is almost impossible.
“So, Juntae. Are you going to tell me what you are doing here, or not?”
Juntae stops his pacing. Right. He needs to answer Seongje somehow. He glances towards the balcony. “I will tell you, if you let me stand next to the balcony.”
Seongje glances behind him and grins. “How about you tell me, and I won't stab you.”
“I won’t feel it.” Juntae waves his hand.
“You don’t feel pain?”
“No.” Juntae sighs and sits back down. He feels restless, but his feet want to lead him closer to Seongje. “I don’t feel pain, and I heal faster, too. I can control it if I focus, but it’s easier to stay out of big fights and avoid proper wounds.”
Seongje hums. He rolls his shoulders, does some acrobatics with his fingers and the knife and shifts even more in front of the balcony doors. “I’m gonna ask for the last time. What are you doing here?”
Juntae sighs. He swears on his stupidity. And then prays to some mystical power that this will go well.
“Your blood smells sweet to me.” He says in one breath. He chews on his lip, waiting for Soengje’s reaction. And once again, he’s surprised.
“So you came here to, what, feed on me?”
Juntae hides his face in his hands and nods. ”I never experienced something like this. It’s… I can’t explain it. Every time you are bleeding I can’t look away, It’s so fucking sweet Seongje. You have no idea.” he says into his hands.
“Did you do that before?” Juntae looks at Seongje from between his fingers and Seongje rolls his eyes. “Break into my place.”
“No!” Juntae shuffles closer in his need to reassure Seongje. “I promise it’s the first time! I’ve never broken into anyone's home! It’s super illegal and creepy and a-a-all together not something I would do! I promise I’m not a creep!” Juntae glances around quickly. “I mean, I did break into your apartment, but not in a creepy way! And I did plan to feed on you, sure, b–but you are always bleeding and always hurt, so I thought that even if I do feed, it will be beneficial for you too! So it wouldn’t be… weird.” He finished weakly.
There is a moment of silence before Seongje laughs. “You really are still fucking same.” He shakes his head and gets up, stretching his back. He throws the pocket knife on the table, but Juntae doubts it’s the only knife he has on himself. “Why would drinking my blood benefit me in any way?”
Juntae takes a step back when Seongje takes a step closer. “It helps. I don’t know how it works but it helps. Gotak always feels better when I do it after a fight. The–the injuries don’t hurt as much and he feels rested.2
Seongje frowns. “Does he know?”
Juntae shakes his head. “No one knows. Well, except you, now.” And isn’t that a weird thought. “It’s not like I can just share it with anyone. People would think I’m either insane or a monster.”
Seongje hums in a way that doesn't reveal what he thinks about it all, and that makes Juntae want to punch him a bit.
There is a moment of stillness before Seonghe grins again, and when he has Juntae’s attention on him he bites into the wound on his lip. Blood drips down his chin immediately, flowing down his throat.
“Come get a taste then.” He taunts and no one could blame Juntae from taking those few long steps and running his tongue over Seongje’s chin before closing his lips around Seongje’s lip.
He can’t stop a moan escaping him at the first taste of the blood. It’s even sweeter than Juntae thought it would. It coats his tongue, sinking into his flesh, becoming part of him.
He laps at the wound trying to get more blood, more taste of this and Seongje laughs. He tangles his fingers in Juntae’s hair, manhandling him a bit and turns it into a kiss.
Juntae moans again, because Seongje’s lips feel as good as they look. It’s not a gentle kiss either. They bite on their lips, smearing blood Juntae licks off moments later.
And Seongje only pulls him closer, onto his lap. And fuck, it feels so good Juntae feels like loosing his mind.
“Fuck Seongje.” Juntae murmurs between kisses. Seongje sucks on his tongue in exchange. Juntae is not surprised that Soengje doesn’t care about the blood smearing between them, it suits him somehow. “You taste so fucking good.”
As nice as kissing is, Juntae wants more. His appetite only grows with each moment so he grabs a fistfull of his hair and he manhandles his head back. He moves down, enough to bite into the tempting curve of Seongje’s throat.
They both moan the moment Juntae’s fangs break the skin. Blood fills Juntae’s mouth and he thinks he’s in heaven. Seongje mons under him, loud and unashamed, losing the balance. He falls back from the half-sitting position and Juntae follows, not willing to stop feeding.
he can feel Seongje’s hands on him. One hand in his hair pressing him even more into his throat—as if Juntae is going anywahere—and the other pulls on the back of his thighs, his back, shifting him the way he wants.
He ends up stranding Seongje, and suddenly there is a hand on his ass and he moves. The first slide of their still clothed cocks sends sparks behind Juntae’s eyes and by Seongje’s groan he can tell he’s not the only one.
He tries to keep the tempo but he can’t really focus with Seongje’s blood still flowing into his mouth. He pulls on Seongje’s shirt and somehow he understands because he starts moving. The friction is heaven and Juntae starts to feel tears gathering in his eyes from overwhelming pleasure. He never felt anything like this. Never felt as if his body was being ripped apart and put back together spark after spark.
“Fuck Juntae.” Seongje groans and it’s like he’s being hit by lightning. His vision goes white, and he thinks he’s moaning something into Seongje’s skin but he can’t be sure what.
Seongje stills under him as well, groaning Juntae’s name again, and with last lick to the bite they both are boneless.
Juntae, when he comes back from the high, realises that he’s lying on Seongje with his face pressed to his chest and with Seongje’s hand on his lower back. It’s nice.
He feels fuller than he ever felt, and his body is still filled with the residue of pleasure he never experienced before. He can try guessing the reason for this and that, but he doesn’t feel like he wants to. He doesn’t feel like it’s necessary. Not yet.
“So, that never happened before.” Juntae murmurs long after both their breaths evened out.
Seongje laughs in response, his chest shaking under Juntae’s cheek. His hand slips under Juntae’s shirt slowly tracing his spine.
“We should try and see if it will happen again.”
Juntae hides a smile on Seongje’s cheek. “Yeah. We should.”