(/he presses his lips into a thin line) Because you’re busy? (/he huffs)
Correction, dearest. I was busy, I’m busy no more. [ : he chimes pleasantly as he moves forward towards the other, sneaking strong arms around his slim waist. ]
(/he chuckles, tail swinging behind him) Can it?
Of course it can. [ : he hums pleasantly, eyeing the younger carefully. ] Why would I deny you something you want?
Well, my little doll. [ : he coos. ] I believe this is something that can be easily arranged.
There’s a squeak that leaves the ravenette’s lips when he stops at the doorway, just before colliding with Leon’s chest for the second time, and dark brown eyes widen in shock. Breathing out slowly, he whimpers a little, biting down on his lower lip. The fact that the elder is as graceful and quick as he is, is just a little bit of a turn on, but Kibum presses the though back, breathing quick and shallow, feet shuffling backwards to keep from falling over — or potentially running into that glorious chest again. Swallowing thickly, he shimmies slightly, and bites down on his lower lip again, looking anywhere but Leon for the moment. “I have food! In the oven!” Breathing out heavily, he glances up at the crusnik and then deflates, cheeks puffing out before he’s shimmying himself a little, toes brushing together. His free hand moves to tug up the thigh of one of his socks, and he flushes away, whining as he looks away, messy black hair falling over his eyes. “I-I’m sorry…. I just wanted to smell like you…” He pouts slightly, and tugs at the end of the sweater, crossing his legs together at the thighs, because he remembers once again what the other walked into. Eyes widen, and he clears his throat, looking down at the floor again. “I-I didn’t think you were gonna be home so soon o-or I would’ve— put on underwear…”
As the squeak leaves Kibum’s lips he grins. Because this is as amusing as anything could possibly be. Because the younger is indeed extremely adorable when he gets shy and Leon basks in it, in the way he reacts to everything he does. He watches every move Kibum makes, grin growing wider as he steps back. ” If you had food in the oven I would have smelled it, I don’t. ” He states as he moves forward a bit, following the male’s steps. The the apology tumbles from sweet lips and Leon’s head tips to the side in an instant, eyelids fluttering quickly. ” Don’t apologize Kibum, please. ” He uttered, voice gentle as he moved up close to trail a finger down along the younger male’s neck. ” I never said I disliked this did I?” He asks, quirking a brow as he lets a hum vibrate between his lips. He’s close now, so very close and he sneaks his arms around a slim waist, hoisting the male up just a bit, to carry him across polished flooring, sitting down on the sofa with the male in his lap.
"Y-Yeah, that! It sounds so vulgar like that though. Why is it even called that, I don’t get it." His nose wrinkles again and he sighs, licking over his lips as he bites down on the last piece of his twizzler, swallowing it down with a sigh before puffing up his cheeks and relaxing in his lover’s lap. It’s an embarrassing thing to think about, but he knows if he doesn’t get it out of the way, it’s going to bother him for a long while to come. biting down on his lower lip, he giggles at the nuzzle, and lifts his head with a little hum, nosing at the male’s jaw before shifting in his lap, settling thighs on either side of his legs with a little purr. "Why don’t we then?" Licking over his lips, he leans forward, putting on his best face as he brushes their lips together, pressing chests firm against one another, lips trailing over to his ear. "C’mon, daddy, don’t be shy.” After all, what’s a better way to try then to do it when it feels natural?
" Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know. " He shrugs a bit before stealing himself a kiss, after jaehyun has swallowed the last bit of his twizzler. Frankly said, Geunee had wanted to kiss him since the moment he wormed his a´way into his lap like this, but he had been holding back to let him speak properly. When Jaehyun moves around, shifting as he noses along Geunee’s jaw, the latter’s fingers curl around slim hips and he presses just the tiniest bit closer. He can feel Jaehyun’s lips against his own, although so brief it merely feels like a tickle and he wants more. His skin rose in goosebumps as lips trailed over to his ear, as the other male spoke to him and he had to swallow harshly not to get hasty. He already liked this a little bit too much, grinning at the other as he caressed up along slim sides, fingers hooking into the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt. " When am I ever shy?" He questions as he begins to tug the fabric upwards, lips attaching to a protruding collarbone as soon as the shirt had been tossed away.
A light sigh escaped him, lips pursed as he hung his head for a moment. He was trying to get through another text for an upcoming midterm, reading the same sentence for a fifth time before groaning and shutting his eyes. There was no use in trying anymore and besides, he had already read it three times that day, why over work it? Hoseok shrugged, rose from the chair by his desk and padding towards his kitchen with rather slow steps, to get himself something to drink. But he barely reached the fridge before he stopped mid-step. Someone had knocked on his door. His brows quirked, fingers moving through dark strands of hair before he pivoted to head in the opposite direction, towards his door. Who?He questioned as walking through his apartment. The scent spoke for itself however, when he reached the door and he shook his head. Kibum. He unlocked the door without bothering to hesitate, pushing the piece of metal open, to indeed be faced by the other male. ” What are you doing here this late?” He asked, eyeing the other from head to toe. ” Do you even know what time it is?”
[ : at times like these, he’s always pleased to find himself alone, because it makes the process of ruining himself so much easier, but for once he’s even more pleased to find someone by his side, because it makes it easier to heal. it’s something he hasn’t thought of before. he is just concerned because this means he’s displaying his true weaknesses to her, and had he been able to choose he would have prevented it. he closes his eyes as she kisses the back of his hand and he curls his fingers around hers. they always feel so warm to him, and it makes peace settle in his bones. even as his drunken self, he knows she’s the greatest comfort he’s ever had. ] I guess I should apologize a little for letting you see me all week and dumb like this.
Ilhoon hadn’t wanted the embrace to end and that was clearly seen by the childish look of loss written all over his youthful face as he stared back at the elder male. He didn’t think they had been hugging long enough for him to feel satisfied enough to let him go. In fact, now that he thought about it, no amount of time hugging Sanggil would ever really be enough since he had been refused by him since the moment they had first met back in Eros. He was trying to get his memory worth of long hugs properly made because that was just how he was. Ilhoon was true to the meaning of overly-happy and sentimental. There was never not a smile on his face from what he was doing and whenever there wasn’t, there was always a pile vomit a few feet away from him and a stumbling body. He tried his utmost hardest not to reach out and grab the shirt of the male before him to pull him back. He was just needy and of need of his old manager again — like a puppy who wanted to play with his master after a long day away from each other.
"Yeah! Make sure you put a lot of sugar in it because I hate that bitter stuff." Ilhoon stuck his tongue out in distaste of the idea of black coffee with nothing else in it as he excitedly stepped into the apartment with the door closing and locking behind him. The assassin’s back was leaned against the door, still mesmerized by the sight and image of the male’s smile which will forever be imprinted in his brain. He had his own grin on, biting his lower lip as he stared down at the floor trying to calm himself down — something that took a lot of effort and he wondered if he’d ever revert back to his normal self when around the other. Right now, he was feeling too many immensely happy things at once that he didn’t know how to contain himself which was why he kept himself attached to the door. He pressed the back of his head to the door and looked up at the ceiling as he attempted to breath in and out slowly to ease him into relaxation. It was hard since the smell of Sanggil lingered everywhere around him and on his clothes which made him want to squeak like a strange fangirl.
After a few minutes, he rushed off into the direction he saw his friend walk in — he felt as if he was taking too long and found him in the kitchen. Ilhoon’s eyes were round with curiosity as he looked around at the place. It hardly seemed as if Sanggil had been here too long judging by the looks of things. Everything was clean and pristine, shining in its own right and he leaned his back against the counter as he took it all in. This was different than his last place — then again, the only places he was allowed in those times before was his living room, hall, and bedroom. “Wah, look at this place. You live here by yourself, huh?” He murmurs out loud, not really waiting on an answer as his eyes fell back on his friend and instantly feeling a little gitty. “I live with a friend of mine now. I met him during the time we were apart. He’s the one that takes care of me — even though I know I bother him too much. I can’t help it. I look at him and the things he does reminds me of you and I— … I just want to be around him when I can. Ah, he’s the main reason why I was missing you so much, Sanggil.” Ilhoon out right confessed with a longing sigh as he roamed the kitchen with his eyes again. “What did I miss while we were separated?”
— The warmth of Ilhoon’s body was something he missed the moment it was beyond him, the moment his own body began to revert into it’s own state of frostbite. Oh the bitterness of not being able to care for himself like this, it really served him nothing but trouble. Recklessness had become everyday behavior, and the way he ended up more bruised than ever before habitual. It made hime reluctant to slip out of the hoodie he was wearing over his black wife beater. Because the pallor beneath it was decorated with purples and yellows in all different shades — visible in the way his knuckles still remain purple beneath the red of blooming gashes. Luckily, he’s quite sure Ilhoon hasn’t lain his eyes upon them yet, not even as Sanggil had turned away. It was a relief, really. Because the last thing he wanted at this very moment, was to worry someone he cared for with his own immense disability to actually do good. The thought makes him sigh almost angrily as fingers curl into fists. But he had grown better at controlling his own rage these days, and keeping form knocking something over was easy.
So he headed into his kitchen with ease, let his fingertips dance over the open expanse of a kitchen counter before he reached to prepare some coffee for the both of them. He had registered Ilhoon’s request, only to realize he had forgotten to respond. He shrugged it off, shook his head as he realized it wouldn’t be considered as something out of his ordinary behavior. He had never spoken much back then, aside form spitting curses and unpleasantly harsh words. He had grown better at that too, keeping his mouth shut around people instead of deliberately offending them. There was no real point in it anymore, as there was no real point in him being alive either. At least that was what Sanggil thought. It differed today however, because the appearance of the younger male had sent his mind spinning. Because maybe there was someone who needed him, someone whom he needed just as much himself and maybe it could work out fine. If they didn’t spend any overly large amount of time beside each other perhaps? Maybe then, Sanggil could at least keep Ilhoon fairly close to himself without endangering him, like he had with everybody else.
They kept him occupied, these thoughts and made his focus drift off, until the younger male stepped into the kitchen as well and Sanggil snapped out of his own daze. It would be strange if he’d be found like this, thinking too much. So instead he moved with ease, began to prepare the coffee in the percolator without looking too much at what he was doing. Pretending to be careless when he really wasn’t. ” No one else to live with, people tend to dislike me you know?” He grinned as he turned to face Ilhoon, shifting before he pushed off of the flooring, to seat himself upon one of the counters while waiting. He barely had time to finish, though didn’t bother to yell as listening to what the younger had to say, nodding here and there. It surprised him a little, a few of hose words, sparked a bout of jealousy in his chest that he put out in less than three seconds. It wasn’t his place to feel such a thing. Never really had been, in his opinion. But it wasn’t like he had forgotten all of the emotions he had felt back then, the way his heart had acted so strangely around the other. Seemingly, it wasn’t about to stop either and it made his expression grow stern for a sliver of a second. ” You really missed me that badly?” He asked and the surprise in his voice was evident. because he had never in his life expected to be missed by someone he missed himself. ” That makes me oddly happy you know. ” He then said with a hum, looking away after that, glancing at the percolator for a moment, lips pursing.
" You didn’t miss much, my life is still the same as always. Aside form a cracked skull, a few cracked ribs. Normal injuries I suppose." He shrugged, as if what he said had meant nothing to him, which it in reality didn’t.
” I’ve continued to be in the stupidest of ways. “
Ilya Dragomir has always been a creature of restraint. He bides his time. He watches his tone and he makes sure not to leave too much of a mess. He’s always been careful with his emotions. Emotions that had once dragged him down. Emotions he’d once turned off. Emotions that Luka had awoken in him. With every moment spent in the boy’s presence - although it had been so hard at first - he’d become less like the beast. Less like the ancient vampire. More like the human he’d long since given up.
Humanity he can now feel trickling away with every last moment he’s got left on earth. His hand curls over his chest, a deep groan spilling from parted lips as his gaze returns to the now moving Luka. The stupid brat is so stubborn, he knows that no matter what he says, Luka isn’t going to leave him like this. Not when he’s dying. Not when he’s already told the kid he loves him.
He loves him with everything he is, and everything that he’s slowly losing.
The first scent of blood is like a switch engulfing him in warm light. He can feel it beneath his skin - what skin he has left. The beast stretches like a large cat, bearing fangs and growling low. The sound rumbles up from the cavity of his chest, falling from his lips as he watches the blood well from the slit. He doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want to hurt Luka, but the moment the first drop falls against his mouth, he knows he’s lost.
The growl deepens, and Ilya’s restraint slips away, as does his sanity. His remaining hand clutches tight at Luka’s wrist, and he wrenches him closer so his teeth can sink into already sensitive flesh. At first he drinks slowly, well aware there isn’t much for the blood to do but sit in what’s left of his stomach. But the longer he indulges, the more his body starts to respond. Soon enough his organs are rebuilding, bones are returning to place and skin, muscle and tissue start to reform.
Within moments the petrification has disappeared, his chest has refilled and there’s no longer a gaping hole where his organs had once resided. His eye slowly heals, and as his strength returns, the harder it is to restrain himself. Until something snaps and then Luka is beneath him. Red colors his newly healed eyes, blood drips from his lips, and slowly the bones of his missing hand regrow as he sinks his fangs into Luka’s throat. He drinks deep from him, every moment returning strength to his body.
Deep down he knows he should stop. Because he’s as healed as he’s going to get. And if he keeps going, he’s going to kill the one thing he has left in this world. Only he doesn’t. He’s been chained in a cell, starved to death for weeks. And Luka is warm, sweet, pliant. But then he realizes, and as the pain bursts through him, he rips himself away from the younger and stumbles to the opposite side of the room, limbs weak and body aching with renewed nerves.
"L-Luka… that was fucking foolish. What the hell were you thinking? Wh-What if I couldn’t stop myself?"
He knows, he knows so well what he’s about to get himself into. Knows it better than he is willing to admit. It’s risky, it’s as dangerous as anything could ever become but Luka heads into it with his head held high; thoughts scattered like always. With a mind as weak as it once had been strong. So many things have caused the shelter built around him to crack, Luka is gone and left with the aching soul of someone he doesn’t want the world to know, someone he doesn’t want Ilya to know and he tries his best to cover up for it, to be the stubborn brat he always is, the fearless stupidly reckless image of Luka. But who Ilya really is facing is none other than Sanha. Lee Sanha. The bruised and broken boy who doesn’t know what he’s supposed to live for if he doesn’t have the warmth and comfort of the undead beside himself.
But even so, terror aches in the marrow of his bones and he has to keep himself from shuddering as the first droplet of claret lands upon sealed lips. He knows before teeth dig into his flesh, that he’s about to risk his life for someone he used to hate, someone he now loves with all the scattered pieces of his heart and soul. And he does so unhesitatingly. Because to Sanha, there’s nothing that can provide him more peace than knowing that Ilya will be alright. That his pain will be eased and that he can continue living. Even in the afterlife, Sanha will be happy like this.
Beyond thick and prickly armor, lies the sincerity of a boy who used to be
driven by emotion.
Teeth pierce his skin and he tries his best not to gasp, not to yelp. It’s difficult and he can’t stop his teeth from digging into his lower lip, enough to actually pierce fragile skin, The taste of his own blood makes him grimace, eyes closing as he waits. Because he doesn’t know how long it will take. But he’ll give the vampire as much time as he needs, as much of himself as he needs. Just to make sure he really is fine, that he really gets better. Nothing, shines as brightly as the light on the other side of the tunnel, right?
Sanha thinks things are going fine, surprised that it’s going so slow. Even though the way his wrist is clutched at hurts more than a little bit. But that thought is broken, shattered into a million pieces together with the last fragments of his hope. He hasn’t kept track of time, but it happens so suddenly that he doesn’t even have time to react. His back collides with harsh flooring, his head following a moment later and this time he can’t help the way he hisses, the way his eyes snap open and he finds himself staring into Ilya’s red hues. The fright settled in his bones begin to surface and he swallows harshly, blinks up at the vampire that he barely recognizes. But his mind is wry, Sanha’s mind has been corrupt since many years back, and the way he smiles so lovingly makes it all so much more apparent.
He knows he’s going to die.
But he doesn’t mind. Why would he? For the past five years, he hasn’t wanted anything else besides death, and if someone was to make that wish of his come true, he’s glad it’s Ilya. He’s glad they’re like this, because at least he’s dying for a good cause instead of having a bullet put between his eyes.
At least, freedom will finally be reachable…
Chill starts to spread through his system, as his veins are slowly drained of what keeps him warm and it gets harder to focus, gets harder to notice the pain radiating from so many places that he thinks it makes it harder to breathe. His fingertips are numb, eyes half-open as he glances up at the elder without a trace of melancholy in his hues. Because there is none, only the bliss of giving someone life. If giving his loved one his life back in exchange for his own.
It takes him several moments to even realize that Ilya has pulled away, that the weight of another body is missing and that he’s alone, gasping for air. And even though the male’s words register in his mind, he can’t bear to answer. He’s gasping, struggling to keep his heart beating as his lungs crave oxygen he can’t get. Agony. It washes away whatever trace there is of peaceful wishes to decease. But there’s nothing he can do, is there? He coughs, chokes on his own breaths as he tries to locate the elder in the room, without much luck. He can’t even get his head to move properly, the aching throb of a wound that still remains open makes it too difficult and he’s so tired. So very tired. and so very cold. ” I was… ” He stutters a bit, voice weak and low and raspy and in no way close to the way it usually sounds. ” I was thinking that I need you to live.” He breathes slowly, heart rate slowing with each passing second.
He’s still smiling, in that broken little way he never shows, and his eyes brim with tears, tears he’s furiously trying to blink away. ” I was thinking… that I’d happily die in your place.” He chokes on another breath and it almost makes his back arch, causing him to roll over to his side, arms wound tightly around his own midsection. As if he’s trying to keep himself warm.
I was thinking that I needed to give you your life back in exchange for my own, if it’d come to that. Because you’re worth so much more than I am, Ilya. You always will be.
" I’m sorry. “
I love you.
His fingers relax after that, hands loosening their grip as his muscles stops trembling and hues finally come to a proper close. His breathing continues, slow and brief as his left arm collides with the floor.
I love you so much.