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Kim Dokja, through living his years as a vampire—proudly surviving for almost a millennium now—knows much about the world. Perhaps a little too much, from his constant foray into reading, thus literature, and subsequently erotic literature.
He’s learned much about his own species, about other mythical species and about humans. Curiosity kills the cat, and if Kim Dokja were human, he would’ve been killed fifteen times over. He’s even learned new things about his own species, after picking up a particularly raunchy book about vampires pursuing human lovers. Though a fictional tale, it wouldn’t surprise him if some of such things were derived from truth.
Therefore, it’s natural for him to know much about werewolves—their geographic residence, different variations of breeds due to climate, their mating habits, unfortunately, and much, much more… More than he would like to know, really. Much more than he’d like to know.
But even this was something completely inexplicable. This phenomenon… was something that Kim Dokja couldn’t explain through his knowledge of scholarly literature—also known as raunchy romance books.
“Joonghyuk-ah. Are you cold? Why are you rubbing against me?”
Yoo Joonghyuk rumbles, a sound that too closely resembles a purr while rubbing his face against Kim Dokja’s neck. But Yoo Joonghyuk is a wolf, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to purr. And yet, the thing Yoo Joonghyuk is doing couldn’t be described as anything else except a purr.
“If you’re cold, I’ll get you a blanket.”
He knows that it makes no sense. Kim Dokja himself is cold-blooded, so Yoo Joonghyuk would find no use rubbing against him like this. And, it was often the case that Yoo Joonghyuk ran hotter than he did—by a mile. It made sense—it was a werewolf thing, after all, but in this case, nothing made sense at all.
So him trying to huddle for warmth was the only possible explanation that Kim Dokja could come up with.
Kim Dokja takes one step forward before he’s suddenly stopped in his tracks. A hand grasped around his wrist practically chains him to Yoo Joonghyuk. And given the glower that Yoo Joonghyuk has on his face, Kim Dokja isn’t going anywhere.
“No,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbles.
Kim Dokja feels a wave of indignation wash over him. What the hell is wrong with this guy today? Did he eat something bad?
A hand comes to brush up against Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. Yoo Joonghyuk stares at it, his pupils tracking the small movement. As soon as Kim Dokja’s hand comes close enough to touch his cheek, Yoo Joonghyuk snaps his face away from Kim Dokja’s fingers.
Kim Dokja feels utterly baffled. He sighs. “What, are you a kid?”
Yoo Joonghyuk glares at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then, why the hell are you just rubbing up against me? If you don’t want a blanket, what is it that you want?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes stare unblinkingly at Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja instinctively tries to take a step back, but he’s stopped by Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand still remaining clutched on his wrist. That gaze burns straight through his soul—a stake aimed at his heart, before Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth opens wordlessly. He closes it shortly after.
Then, he opens it again. He mutters something quick, something that Kim Dokja doesn’t catch.
“What?”
What comes out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth next is a sentence that Kim Dokja takes what feels like a millennium to process.
“…You smell good.” He purses his lips tightly as soon as he finishes, his gaze averted from Kim Dokja.
Kim Dokja catches the slight twinge of red gracing the tips of his ears.
He blinks slowly. His mouth gapes open, and only a second later does he remember to close it. His lips form words that he doesn’t even know of, before he thins them to a line.
What the hell…
Kim Dokja must’ve fallen asleep when Yoo Joonghyuk decided to speak. Yes, that seems right. It’s definitely the right train of thought. Why else would Yoo Joonghyuk say something that ridiculous otherwise?
“Sorry… I must’ve misheard,” Kim Dokja says dumbly.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Yoo Joonghyuk growls. “You smell… good.”
Kim Dokja doesn’t even have a second to process what that’s even supposed to mean before Yoo Joonghyuk resumes his damn face-rubbing thing. Against the top of his head this time, in his hair.
So that’s how Kim Dokja found himself with a permanent werewolf stuck to his side, sniffing him and rubbing his face all over him.
Kim Dokja later found out the reasoning after ruminating over some dusty old books he’d picked up from somewhere in his attic.
Werewolves—and therefore Yoo Joonghyuk—had ruts. That was clear enough from the romance novels that Kim Dokja’s read before. But… during such ruts, they’d rely on their scent to discern their mates. There was something convoluted about fated mates and scent, but Kim Dokja didn’t bother reading any of that. He’d only skimmed over the books, too exhausted to read much else.
Either way, the most important part of it all was finally figured out. The gist of it was that Yoo Joonghyuk was going to be stuck in such a state until his pre-rut phase was over. Then, he’d head into his rut, and, well… from the books that Kim Dokja has read, he doesn’t really want to find out what would happen next.
It’s inexplicable why Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t had this problem before in his previous ruts, but… perhaps it was a change in Kim Dokja’s body wash? Or his clothes? Or perhaps his eating habits? Yoo Joonghyuk has been cooking particularly good meals for him, after all.
Still, having a six-foot-tall man—or werewolf—rubbing against you at all times of day was bound to be an inconvenience.
It is an inconvenience now, with Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung—his precious fledglings—over.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s face is buried in his hair as he rumbles softly. Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung flank Yoo Joonghyuk, tugging at his clothes to try and pry him off of Kim Dokja. Of course, they make equivalently zero progress. Or even negative progress, as Yoo Joonghyuk only buries his head further into Kim Dokja’s scalp at their attempt.
Kim Dokja sighs. “The kids—”
“What about the kids.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s words vibrate through his skull as he nuzzles Kim Dokja further. His hair tickles, pricking against his scalp.
“You know already. What do you mean ‘what about the kids?’ Get off, you brat. Let the kids have their turn.”
Yoo Joonghyuk gives him a dissatisfied sound.
That’s pretty much a no from him.
He continues his ministrations as if he’d never stopped at all—too hard-working in an area he shouldn’t be working hard at. If he worked hard to stop annoying Kim Dokja, maybe he’d be more tolerable.
“You child. You brat. Let me go.” Kim Dokja’s hands push against Yoo Joonghyuk’s head. Those hands are swiped away by one hand of Yoo Joonghyuk’s, overpowering him with no effort at all.
“No,” Yoo Joonghyuk rumbles.
Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung have learned their lessons, backing off from Yoo Joonghyuk. It’s clear that any effort at all could be waved off by this inhumanly strong bastard. Which makes sense, since he’s a werewolf… but still. Isn’t Kim Dokja non-human too?
“Ahjussi…” Shin Yoosung starts. She has her arms crossed, her face the pinnacle of dissatisfaction.
“I can’t…” Kim Dokja shakes his head, trying to rid himself of Yoo Joonghyuk’s touch, but it doesn’t work. He’s stuck on like a magnet.
Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung stand off to the side, pouts evident on both of their faces. Those pouts morph into disgusted looks as Yoo Joonghyuk rubs his head against Kim Dokja’s neck, again and again like an all-too-clingy dog.
Lee Gilyoung whispers something to Shin Yoosung. Kim Dokja’s eyes catch her head nodding slightly, her gaze still fixed on Kim Dokja.
Kim Dokja feels a foreboding chill run up his spine.
Whatever they’re planning, it’s not good. And Kim Dokja’s going to find out immediately it seems, as they approach him slowly.
Kim Dokja closes his eyes, feeling each second tick by with Yoo Joonghyuk’s damn hair pricking at his cheek again.
Two sets of arms cling onto him, rubbing against his waist, nuzzling him tight. They’ve bound his feet to the floor. Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung have found a spot against Kim Dokja, rubbing their faces along his shirt. Their expectant eyes gaze up at him, filled with both spite and smugness as they flick towards the bastard still rubbing against his face.
Kim Dokja releases a tired groan.