anyways! title from One Direction's Still the One.
tw: blood, biting.
This is how Hakyeon has been spending the last week or so. School, work on tuesdays and saturdays, and then evenings and big parts of the nights in the big, old mansion outside the city.
The sun is setting, Hakyeon can see it slowly disappear behind the tops of the trees through the window close to where he's sitting. Curled up on a blanket in his usual corner of the giant, once marvellous living room, Hakyeon is trying to read up on algebra and equations. The thick textbook is balancing against a metal thermos, cracked open on the page his teacher had told Hakyeon's class he wanted them to finish before the day after. He would check, he had told them strictly, pointing his chubby index finger at some students in particular - Hakyeon included.
The mansion is cold, as it is mostly made out of stone, but the warm rays of the May sun has heated it up some so it's warm enough for Hakyeon to be in a t-shirt instead of his usual hoodie - now stuffed between Hakyeon's back and the ice cold stone wall behind him, the black sleeves tied around Hakyeon's waist.
Hakyeon's eyes are burning; he's running on a mere three hours of sleep as last night's patrol went way past schedule. There had been a tiny group of vampires trying to get some ancient book from an even more ancient grave - it had taken Hakyeon, his Watcher Inguk as well as two of Hakyeon's friends: Jaehwan and Hongbin - they call themselves the Slayerettes, Hakyeon doesn't want to know - roughly four hours to dust them all and make the mausoleum as Inguk had put it, presentable and decent. Why a place for dead people had to be decent Hakyeon doesn't know. When he had asked Inguk, he had brushed him off with something along the lines of having respect for the dead.
Hakyeon respects the dead. The dead dead kind of dead.
While entertaining the thought of napping for a couple of hours, Hakyeon's ears pick up a soft growl. Right. The sun has almost set - or as good as it's setting when it's a summer month and also daylight savings.
It's time for food.
Wincing, Hakyeon gets up on his stiff legs, spends a minute or two stretching most of the soreness away from his thighs and butt. It's ridiculous, really, as there's a perfectly fine red velvet love seat in another room that is perfectly fine to sit on, but it's too far away and even with his honed Slayer-senses, Hakyeon wouldn't be able to hear him. Quietly, he retrieves a bag filled with red liquid; blood, from one of the many pockets of his backpack. He has been carrying it around with him all day so he can imagine that some of the, uh, punch has been shaken out of it. From another pocket he digs ut a pink straw.
Hakyeon has learnt the hard way that a straw is much neater and cleaner than just letting him tear into the package. Bye bye favorite sweater.
The first night after he had returned, he had been an animal. Hakyeon doesn't have another word for it. Crawling around on all fours, snarling and sneering at Hakyeon. There had been no words from him, only sounds akin to those from a dog, maybe a wolf. Which really didn't make any sense.
He's a vampire after all.
Still, Hakyeon wishes he knew why he is reduced to this shadow of his former self. He has improved drastically the last couple of days but he's still not himself. Reminding Hakyeon more of a frightened, tortured animal than anything else.
Hakyeon doesn't turn on the light when he enters the small room. It's dark with the black, heavy curtains covering the two windows fully. There's no direct sunlight at this side of the house now, but Hakyeon doesn't want to take any chances. Even the slightest hint of sunlight makes him weaker while in this..state, so the only light Hakyeon trusts is the electrical type. Instead of turning on the light he keeps the door to the hallway open, lets the dim light spill in through the door. It makes it bright enough for Hakyeon to see him.
The gift of speech had returned to him yesterday. Even though he can put words together to make a sentence he's still far from being as eloquent as he was before. His vocabulary reminds Hakyeon of a three year old at best. However it's nice that he's not just growling and whimpering anymore. At least when he's awake.
"Taekwoon," Hakeyon says softly, slowly crossing the floor. As he approaches he can hear Taekwoon move, the thich chains that are cast into the wall making an almost sad sound as he moves. The thick chains are fastened to thick handcuffs around Taekwoon's wrists. He has been chained up for seven days; Hakyeon had told him gently that he could be let go if he wanted to but Taekwoon had merely shook his head at this. His words weren't good enough for him to explain more than "dangerous". So Hakyeon had respected his wishes.
Hakyeon has the key to Taekwoon's chains hanging in a silver necklace around his neck, hidden under his clothes.
At first Taekwoon had been chained up and locked away for the citizens' safety. Hakyeon had captured him, tied him up, hands and feet held down by blessed iron. Now Taekwoon is chained up for his own safety. His own wish.
"Hungry," Taekwoon whispers, his voice filled wiht shame, the chains rattling again as Hakyeon sits down next to him. The distance between them is big enough for Hakyeon to feel safe; he always feels safe around Taekwoon, but Taekwoon moves further away. Hakyeon wonders if he's afraid.
"I know," Hakyeon tells him, keeps his voice steady and warm despite the lump that has starte to form in his throat. With deft fingers, Hakyeon stabs the pink straw through the top of the plastic bag. Next to him he can feel Taekwoon shift restlessly - he can smell the blood, Hakyeon knows. He's hungry but doesn't want to seem eager. Doesn't want Hakyeon to see him like this.
Blindly, Hakyeon hands the bag of blood to Taekwoon who accepts it with trembling fingers. One heartbeat, then: "Please, not here." Taekwoon's voice is soft, sore in the darkness. Hakyeon's heart clenches with the same pain.
Taekwoon doesn't want him there when he feeds. Even if it's just sucking blood out of a bag. Cold blood. Hakyeon knows Taekwoon prefers it hot, used to drink it from a mug before- before.
Before you sent him to hell.
Hakyeon swallows once, his throat clicks.
"Please," Taekwoon repeats, his voice trembling.
Hakyeon gets up, glances quickly at the silhouette of Taekwoon as he passes him. He doesn't go far, knows that Taekwoon can smell him still, but it seems good enough for Taekwoon who makes this sore growl-y sound before Hakyeon hears him attack the blood bag. From the sounds of it, Taekwoon isn't using the straw much.
There will be a need for tissues.
When Hakyeon returns to him sometime later, tissues in hand, he opens the curtains. The sun has almost set, the dark sky littered with stars. It's safe for Taekwoon now.
The soft, gentle light from the moon and the stars lights up the room, gives it a cold glow that brings out Taekwoon's pale skin. He's wearing a black t-shirt, Hakyeon guesses from the splatter of blood on his arms, the trickle of blood down his chin, that it's stained with blood too. That's the reason why Hakyeon chose black for him in the first place. It wouldn't show if he got blood on his black sweatpants or the shirt.
Taekwoon is clutching the empty plastic bag in his long, slender fingers, knuckles white as he licks over the plastic, staining his cheeks with tiny droplets of blood. Like a child Hakyeon thinks, sighing softly as he approaches Taekwoon carefully. Taekwoon gives a soft whimper when Hakyeon settles between his spread legs, tries to close them, tries to move away from Hakyeon.
The fear in his eyes hurt.
"Hey," Hakyeon murmurs softly, cupping Taekwoon's bloody cheek. Taekwoon freezes as if hit, eyes wide. His hold on the bag tightens further, his long body trembling. "Taekwoon it's ok, you won't hurt me. It's ok."
Hakyeon doesn't know for sure, but fears that Taekwoon remembers how he attacked Hakyeon the day he returned from Hell, or wherever he had been. Hakyeon had been out on patrol alone, and Taekwoon had jumped him, slammed him against a brick wall. If Hakyeon had been a mere mortal, he would have died. Even with his Slayer healing, the bruises on his face and arms had taken days to heal.
Gently, Hakyeon pries the bag from Taekwoon's grip, sets it down on the floor next to Taekwoon's thigh. All Hakyeon's movements are slow, carefully measured as he takes in Taekwoon's expression, every flick of his gaze and twitches of his fingers.
With a wet wipe, Hakyeon cleans Taekwoon's face, neck, arms, fingers. The image of him with stained cheeks would be cuter, Hakyeon thinks, if it wasn't for the fact that they were stained with blood. Otherwise, Taekwoon kind of reminds Hakyeon of a child.
A child with bloody cheeks. A vampire.
"There, all clean," Hakyeon hums later, dumps the red wipe over the empty plastic bag.
"Clean," Taekwoon repeats, looking down on his clean fingers. Hakyeon watches as he curls and uncurls them, thoroughly fascinated by his fingers.
"Yes, clean," Hakyeon smiles, brings his own fingers to brush Taekwoon's long bangs away from his face, pushes long, black strands of hair behind his ears. Taekwoon bites down on his bottom lip as Hakyeon fixes his hair, eyes falling shut. Hakyeon continues to run his fingers through Taekwoon's hair, enjoying how Taekwoon presses against his hand, lets out soft, pleased sounds. Like a cat.
"You're warm," Hakyeon comments casually when he places his left hand on Taekwoon's shoulder, more used to the feeling of cold marble whenever he touches Taekwoon, so the heat he feels through Taekwoon's t-shirt is foreign somehow.
"Mm," Taekwoon hums. He nudges his forehead against Hakyeon's palm. "The blood makes me warm."
"That's new. I don't remember you being warm before?" Hakyeon muses out loud, fondly looking at Taekwoon who's still nuzzling against Hakyeon's palm. His slender fingers are curled around Hakyeon's wrist now. They're also as warm as Taekwoon, not quite human temperature but still warmer than the sub zero he's used to.
"It's new. I don't know," Taekwoon says absently. Instead of nuzzling against Hakyeon's warmer palm, he's pressing his lips to the heel of his hand. Taekwoon's mouth is open, Hakyeon guesses as he can feel the tips of his fangs gently nudging over the skin.
The feeling of Taekwoon's fangs against his skin isn't a new thing to Hakyeon. Before Taekwoon was sent to Hell, Hakyeon used to let him bite him. Not often, Taekwoon's main source of blood was still those plastic bags of human and/or animal blood. To Hakyeon the feeling of getting bitten is an aphrodisiac of sorts. Taekwoon would bite him gently only when Hakyeon asked for it. More often than not he had to beg, ask several times for Taekwoon even to consider it.
Taekwoon was, is still afraid of hurting Hakyeon.
"Taekwoon," Hakyeon says, curiousity in his voice as he feels Taekwoon scrape his fangs gently against his skin. "What are you doing?"
"Hungry. I'm hungry," Taekwoon murmurs, sounding almost drunk. His voice is slurred, vowels dragged out as he speaks. Taekwoon inhales sharply; Hakyeon hears it, feels the air pass by his skin.
"You just fed. Taekwoon you glutton," Hakyeon chides softly but his heart is fluttering. He's happy. Taekwoon's appetite is getting better. Hakyeon takes that as a very good sign. The past week he has been eating very little, usually just half a blood bag each day, the two previous days he has been eating a little more and now he wants to feed from Hakyeon.
"You smell so good," Taekwoon groans. "I can hear your heart. I can hear your blood."
Always the romantic.
"If you want to, you can," Hakyeon says gently. Despite his heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, Hakyeon isn't scared. He should be. Taekwoon has been in hell for two months which he knows is even longer in Hell. He could be dangerous. He is dangerous. And yet Hakyeon can't not trust him.
This is Taekwoon after all. His Taekwoon.
"Shouldn't," Taekwoon says. However he does nothing to pull away, pushes his lips back against Hakyeon's palm instead.
"It's ok, Taekwoon. I want you to," Hakyeon says. Hakyeon inches closer, curls one hand around the back of Taekwoon's neck, guides him forward until Taekwoon's forehead is resting against Hakyeon's shoulder. The angle of his arm, the one Taekwoon is still holding onto, is awkward, slightly painful but Hakyeon finds he doesn't mind right now.
"Little. Just a little." Hakyeon hears Taekwoon murmur mostly to himself. Hakyeon curls his fingers in Taekwoon's black hair, thoughts drifting to getting it cut as it has gotten long. Later.
Taekwoon is gentle, careful in a way that's his Taekwoon. It stings when he finally punctuates Hakyeon's skin. His sharp fangs sliding into the palm of his hand, he doesn't push them far, barely gaining access to the veins there before he pulls back, tonguing around the tiny wounds, gently sucking to coax the blood out.
There's pain, sure, but more than anything this feels very intimate. Hakyeon always thinks so. Vampire bites can hurt if that's the intention. It's clear that Taekwoon doesn't want to hurt him. Pleasure floods Hakyeon's veins. And it's Hakyeon's turn to let out a soft gasp.
While Taekwoon feeds on Hakyeon's blood, Hakyeon bends down, presses his cheek gently against the crown of Taekwoon's head, humming under his breath as he feels the life slowly ebb out of him with every suck of Taekwoon's mouth.
Hakyeon trusts him not to end his life.
"My Taekwoon," Hakyeon whispers fondly, runs his thumb over Taekwoon's cheekbone.
Taekwoon lets out a soft sob, exhales against Hakyeon's palm. Hakyeon feels him pull back for a moment before his lips are back, tongue licking heavily over the two small puncture wounds.
"Done," Taekwoon rasps, voice thick.
"You did well," Hakyeon praises sluggishly, doesn't make to move away from Taekwoon. "I'm proud of you."
When Taekwoon is done cleaning Hakyeon's wounds, he lets go of Hakyeon's wrist, only to wrap his long arms around Hakyeon's waist, pulling him into his lap, hiding his face in Hakyeon's neck.
Hakyeon hears the sobs before he feels the heat of Taekwoon's tears.
Taekwoon is still healing.
They both are.
Here you go, oneforyourfire. Good luck!