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kjmsupremacist · 3 years

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you know i can’t leave you alone (hyunjin/chan)

Hyunjin and Chan have lived for centuries together, letting the world pass them by. They’ve had to come up with creative ways to stave off their boredom.

you can read part 2 here, part 3 here! :)

“Are you terrified? Be terrified. It’s you I love.”

—Carol Ann Duffy, Medusa

Characters: Hyunjin, Bang Chan

Genre: smut, vampires, established relationship, horror

Warnings: brief nongraphic mention of suicide, blood, d/s dynamic, breathplay/choking, bondage, edging, bdsm and general rough treatment, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, unhealthy attachment styles lmao like uh they’re both quite literally a little insane, dark and sexy but mostly dark

Rating: Explicit

Length: 7.6k

you can listen to the official playlist here! you can find my meta of red lights here!

ah, me and my disclaimers. this is, for lack of a better term, rather dark and twisted SJKD. i swear i’m fine. just know it has elements of psychological horror. also, please suspend your disbelief re: the minute details of vampire biology. I don’t know how they can come if they’re dead. don’t ask me LMAO.

((((if people like this, I did do copious research for this one, which means i have enough lore for a couple more parts! lmk......))))

Hyunjin doesn’t remember most things anymore. At a certain point, your brain gets overwhelmed. For the average human lifespan, the brain does alright. It forgets, and forgets plenty, but it remembers enough that, for the most part, the forgetting goes unnoticed. Or, even if it is noticed, it just isn’t significant enough to matter.

But when you live as long as Hyunjin has, the things you do not remember quickly begin to outweigh those which you do. It becomes noticeable, and when it first becomes significant, it matters a lot. Hyunjin has a vague recollection of that fear, the way it gripped him, the panic when he realized he had begun to lose pieces of his human life. But it’s only a shadow now—because now, the forgetting has gotten to the point where it has returned to not mattering anymore. A full circle. A snake that has eaten its own tail.

It’s a constant now. There’s no point in worrying over it. Hyunjin forgets, is forgetting, will continue to forget as sure as the earth will continue to spin steadily to its own destruction; as sure as time will continue its march forward, plodding on and on, dutiful and patient; as sure as the universe will continue its inevitable expansion outward and outward until there is no recognizable shard of the earth nor inkling of time, until there is no memory left to mourn, until there is nothing at all.

But the moment of his turning—the moment Hyunjin died, and came back changed—is one he is sure he will carry with him until the oceans are gas and the planets are dust and the stars have all burned out. It is the only thing now that can still truly scare him. He remembers pain, unparalleled and consuming, like he was being eaten alive, as the venom burrowed its way into every last one of his cells. He remembers the sensation of a hand, which once felt cold on his skin, now the same temperature as Hyunjin’s body. He remembers the fear, sharp and paralyzing, which turned to despair, and finally dread.

Hyunjin is a vampire, has been one for so many long centuries he gave up counting lifetimes ago. There’s no point. There’s only knowing there was a before and an after, and that he is in the after, and will be in the after forever.

At least he isn’t alone. Hyunjin has Chan, and if he didn’t have the proof of his existence to stand as evidence, sometimes he might think he has always had him. But that isn’t true. Chan found him after Hyunjin had been turned against his will, and saved him. Hyunjin, if he had a mortal life to give, would willingly lay it down at Chan’s feet. Would then; would still now. Another constant, true now and forever. He could walk every last centimeter of their grounds a thousand times over, on his knees, and still not deserve Chan’s love.

Chan had been turned by his own mother, who asked him to let her do it so that she would not live out an infinite half-life alone. She had not wanted to lose Chan to the unrelenting progression of time. Chan, unable to bear the thought of his mother alone at the end of the world, had agreed. His mother had died not a handful of decades after, ripped apart and burned by their own kind, and Chan had begun his crusade against injustice, continued it for centuries, alone, until he found Hyunjin.

Things were perfect for a while. They worked together to capture and punish the wrongdoers, to keep evil vampires in check. They fell in love, and it was sweet and wild and pure. The vampire community cherished them for their hard work, their dedication, their goodness. Their lives were bright and full and happy.

But over time, their reputation was soured as some began to claim that they were doing all of this out of a hunger for power, for control. And maybe, on some level, these people were correct. Hyunjin and Chan kept at their war against the darkness, saying they did so because it was right. But Hyunjin at least recognized that the same darkness they fought had found its way inside of him. He did it not just because it was right, but also because he did not want to lose favor.

But once it was clear that they had lost favor, they retreated. Fearing the wrath of other vampires, and also feeling disheartened at the lack of appreciation, Chan and Hyunjin withdrew to a beautiful estate in the middle of a dark forest. Hyunjin can’t remember when. All he knows is it was a long time ago. They have lived here together in isolation ever since.

There isn’t much to do here that Hyunjin and Chan don’t create themselves. They removed themselves from the world, and so too did the world remove itself from their lives. Hyunjin has a feeling the world has all but forgotten them. That’s fine with him. He’s not sure he or Chan are fit to exist there anymore, anyway.

He knows they have both been slipping. It’s only natural, when one has lived so long and forgotten so much. He sees his own sort of hazy madness reflected in Chan sometimes, when his eyes go vacant and dark. There’s a loss there that Hyunjin knows because it is in him, too. There are moments where Hyunjin forgets where he is. He forgets why he’s here, how he got here, where it all began. Was there ever a beginning? Or was he always here, only here? Is here all there is? What was he ever trying to do?

But it’s so faint now. It’s deep in the back of his mind, the knowing that something is wrong, that it’s been wrong for years. Has it been years? Or just days? Or maybe a millennia? Hyunjin isn’t sure. He can’t focus on these thoughts hard enough to be sure, can’t hold them long enough to really care. All that matters anyway is Chan, and Chan’s love, and the moments where they come back into balance for a flash of dizzying clarity. That’s how Hyunjin knows it’s still mostly right. That this is good and safe, because he has Chan, and Chan loves him.

Vampires don’t sleep, exactly. Every now and again, though, Hyunjin will slip into a vegetative state. It’s akin to hibernation in some animals, he’s decided. Here he has what he thinks must be dreams. They’re always the same. Or maybe he’s forgotten the rest. It doesn’t matter. What he remembers is running down a hallway. It’s familiar to him somehow, though he isn’t sure why. He’s running towards a light, a door. There’s the push of desperation against his throat, to be sure, but something else covers it, more potent. Resignation, and the smothering comfort that it brings.

He gets right up to the door, breathless, but when he reaches out to touch, the illusion shatters, and he finds himself staring into his own eyes. He’s surrounded by mirrors. In an instant, ropes appear, deep red and fraying, and twist around his body, his arms, his neck. They pull him back, drag him to the floor. He feels his head slam against the wall as he’s pulled away; he feels his spine running ragged against the uneven surface of the baseboards. He shakes. He thinks he might be laughing.

Once, when he woke, he told Chan about his dreams. Chan’s expression had slipped into something soft, and he had gathered Hyunjin into his arms. Hyunjin breathed him in, kept inhaling until his head spun. Chan ran his hands up and down Hyunjin’s back.

“I dream it, too,” he said quietly.

Hyunjin remembered no shock at the confession. It felt more like a missing piece settling into a puzzle, like he had always thought it was the case but had never been sure. Still, he asked, “You do?”

“I dream it, too, but mine aren’t ropes,” Chan replied. “Mine are chains.”

“Chains,” Hyunjin repeated, almost dreamily. He could feel Chan’s breath on his neck. “Show me.”

And Chan had produced beautiful silver chains, a trick of his magic, and wrapped them around Hyunjin’s waist, his arms, all the way down his legs, and dragged him from the study to the third bedroom. Hyunjin had never cried like that, ever. Not even when he was begging the vampire that turned him for his life.

He loved every minute of it.

Their mansion is vast and empty. Some things have fallen into disarray, but Hyunjin hardly notices. It’s so large; if one room fails them, the wallpaper peeling, the floors sinking into the earth below, they simply move on to the next. If they want, they do the repairs themselves. If not, it doesn’t matter anyway.

It wasn’t always this way; once they had visitors—of this Hyunjin is almost certain, though not quite. He doesn’t ask Chan about it; he doubts he will have any answers. If Hyunjin can’t remember, then Chan certainly can’t, either. Age has no meaning to them, but all the same, Hyunjin knows Chan is much older than he is. So he doesn’t ask.

The thought of it doesn’t come often. Hyunjin cannot remember names, or even faces. It’s just the hint of things—a dusting of freckles, dancing across the bridge of a nose; soft cheeks, rounded in a smile; a voice, low and lilting, sweet like honey. Sweet like blood, Hyunjin thinks. He thinks he can taste it. Then, for a fleeting instant, the grief comes, deep and empty, but by the time he can put a name to the emotion, it’s already gone.

Whether the visitors are real or a fantasy, the only certain thing is that they are now wholly alone. No humans venture out here anymore. Hyunjin and Chan feed on the wild animals, though they have an old store of human blood, frozen and hidden away, in case the winters get bad, or for the time of year when the nights are short and fleeting, and there are only a few hours of darkness between sunset and sunrise. No amount of blood sates their thirst, but at their age, Hyunjin and Chan have long since learned to endure it. To ignore it, even.

They have plenty to occupy themselves with, to keep the wanting at bay.

Hyunjin thinks of it like a dance. He steps back so that Chan knows to step forward. He is a puppet wrapped up in strings, and Chan is the puppeteer, only Hyunjin was the one to give him the strings in the first place. He showed him where to tie all the knots; here, hyung, and here and here and here. Chan has power over Hyunjin, but only because Hyunjin lets him. And so really, the power is all Hyunjin’s. It’s intoxicating. So much of his brain is taken up chasing it that there isn’t much room for anything else.

It’s a chase that starts without one of them knowing. Often a day will pass where they do not see each other. This much is not odd. But at a certain point, Hyunjin will make the conscious choice to slip away whenever he knows Chan is near. He wants him to notice his absence and begin searching for him. Eventually, Chan will catch on, and it becomes a long game of hide-and-seek. Chan will not directly and immediately begin looking. He will go about his day, keeping an eye out. If he catches a glimpse of Hyunjin, he won’t follow right away, but will usually cut his activities short and begin his pursuit.

Or Chan will start it—Hyunjin will realize that wherever he goes, Chan is not far behind. He rarely actively makes his presence known, but instead gets closer and closer, until Hyunjin recognizes the pattern and tries to pull away. They will continue this way, faster and faster, until it becomes a true chase, until Hyunjin is running, until he can’t run anymore, until he decides on a hiding spot and waits for Chan to find him.

Today it’s the former. Hyunjin was bored, and decided to make himself scarce. It seems Chan was bored too, because it wasn’t long before he heard agitated footsteps a few floors above him, and felt the first shocks of anticipation.

The sun has set now; the moon is on the rise. Hyunjin creeps through their darkened house, listening carefully for Chan’s approaching footsteps. He’s worked his way from the bottom floor to the attic and is waiting for Chan to come upstairs so he can begin to make his way back down to one of the bedrooms. A sort of thrill races through him, as it always does. It’s not real fear—Chan would never hurt him—but it’s something close.

He hears the creak of the floorboard at the top of the stairs and pauses, waiting to hear which direction Chan will go. Chan walks leisurely, moving to Hyunjin’s right. He takes the same pace to ensure he doesn’t lap him. Hyunjin is lighter than Chan, and so makes less noise when he moves. His hearing is also better, so he does have the advantage. But Chan has more stamina, and always manages to run Hyunjin into the ground.

Hyunjin shivers, thinking of what comes after. He wants it, can feel the desire making its slow way across his body. That’s his other weakness—he lets the desire blind him, and it makes him vulnerable.

But not yet. Chan is somewhere near the back of the attic now, so Hyunjin takes the chance to slip down the stairs.

He goes down to the fifth floor, then the fourth, then the third. Here he cuts through the kitchen, dusty and unused. He hears footfalls behind him—Chan has caught up faster than he anticipated. That’s fine. He enters the dining room, trying to speed up, but when he chances a glance over his shoulder, Chan is there in the doorway. Hyunjin puts the table between them, then pauses at his chair.

Chan draws up short behind his at the opposite end. Their eyes meet, and a familiar chill cuts through Hyunjin’s mind. It’s the same feeling he gets when he meets his own gaze in the mirror.

Legends say that vampires have no reflections. The school of thought is simple—a being’s soul is housed in its reflection, and as vampires are thought not to have souls, logically they cannot have reflections, either.

This isn’t true, of course. Hyunjin is dead, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a soul. At his moment of death, his soul left the mirrors to join his body in the earth. But he was not buried; instead, his sire’s venom reanimated him, and his soul was left to flit between an empty, lifeless body, and the reflection in the mirror. Hyunjin has a soul, but he cannot feel it inside. Instead, all he can do is watch for it in the mirror—an echo; a faint reminder that once, long, long ago, he was alive.

Looking at Chan is the same thing, in a way. Chan looks back with the same longing. He is now—watching and performing at the same time, searching for something lost. Hyunjin pulls his chair out and Chan does too, and they sit in unison. Together, they lean towards each other across the table. They’re too far away to touch, of course. They lean forward anyway.

They’re slowly becoming one, Hyunjin thinks as he tilts his head to the side, studying Chan. Chan does the same. There’s almost an animosity here, in their watching, but it’s the kind Hyunjin has for himself. He knows any flaw he may see in Chan will only be reflected in himself, too, so there’s no point in doing much more than noting it silently and moving on. Because no matter what, it’s always going to be them, Hyunjin thinks, bringing a hand up to his mouth at the same time that Chan does, pressing the pads of his fingers to his lips. Him and Chan, Chan and him. Just them for each other, only them. And he knows that Chan knows this, too. They both know it, with more certainty than they know anything else in the world.

Chan settles back in his seat, and Hyunjin finds himself doing so as well. He drops the hand at his mouth to the arm of his chair.

“Are you eager today,” Chan asks him softly, “or just slipping?”

“I’m not sure,” Hyunjin answers honestly. “Maybe both.”

Chan hums, nodding. “Well, will you be joining me in the bedroom, then?” The bedroom. Like they only have one. “Or will I have to be more persuasive? It’s hardly fair; I have caught you, after all.”

Hyunjin gestures to the distance between them, though neither of them move to get up. “No, you haven’t,” he says. “I can still run.”

A smile flickers over Chan’s face and then is gone again. “Please, try.”

They’re frozen for a moment, and then Hyunjin rises swiftly from his chair with the full intent to bolt. He doesn’t get farther than a step or two before something stops him, and he looks down to see familiar chains snaking up his thighs, already tangled around his calves and feet. He looks back at Chan, who is holding them, wrapped once around his knuckles, almost lazily.

“That’s cheating,” he accuses, but he’s not really stung. He goaded Chan into it, after all. His behavior was an open invitation.

Chan’s eyes glint in the dim moonlight. He strolls toward him as Hyunjin puts on a show of struggling, collecting the slack as he goes, wrapping the chains once, twice, thrice again around his hand. “Yes,” he admits. “It is.”

More chains appear; they wind themselves tight around Hyunjin’s chest and waist and biceps, pinning his arms to his sides. Hyunjin sucks in a breath, trembling. Chan is within reach now, but Hyunjin can’t touch him.

Chan watches with amusement for a moment, and then pulls on the chains, toppling him. Hyunjin’s world tilts, and he raises his head just in time to save it from hitting the uneven floors as Chan pulls him out of the dining room and down the hall. He bites back a cry; it’s not a secret that he likes being treated roughly, but he doesn’t want to give Chan the satisfaction of a reaction like that so soon.

Chan stops at the foot of the bed and then loosens his grip on the chains so he can turn and lift Hyunjin onto the mattress. Hyunjin thrashes, but it doesn’t matter. Chan is stronger than him, pins him easily and hefts him onto the bed, depositing him on top of the crumpled duvet. Hyunjin lets his head spin, not trying too hard to make his eyes focus. Chan is so mean, and he’s so hard.

The chains tighten again; Chan is securing them at the edges of the bed so he can work with his hands. They’re both still fully dressed—white suits, cut and restyled. It’s a little strange—Chan usually ensures they’re both naked before tethering Hyunjin anywhere—but Hyunjin has to admit that today has been strange all over.

The moon shines clearly through the window. It is still close to the horizon, so it appears orange, almost red. It bathes the room in an eerie sort of glow, warm and cold at the same time. Like firelight encased in ice.

Like love persisting between two dead things.

Chan stands above him on the bed, letting him writhe in vain. Hyunjin is strong, but Chan is stronger, and Chan made these chains. They will not break.

“Please.” The word is out before Hyunjin can even think to stop it. “Let me go.”

A wicked sort of smile spreads across Chan’s lips. He is beautiful and frightening, and Hyunjin drinks it in. “Is that what you really want from me?” Chan asks. Hyunjin hesitates. “I thought not. Try again.”

Hyunjin bites back a whine. He’s so frustrated, but he also feels like he’s swimming in lust. He grits his teeth. “Come here, then,” he finally pleads. “You’ve been so far away from me all day.”

“And whose fault is that?” But Chan crouches down, stretching one hand towards the bed, between Hyunjin’s thighs, to steady himself.

“Mine and yours,” Hyunjin says pointedly. Chan just smiles wider still. Hyunjin can see his canines, sharp and white. “Come closer.” He tries to gesture with his head to the space on the bed beside him, but the chain around his neck is tight. He only manages a slight jerk before he’s pulled to an abrupt halt. It doesn’t help the ache between his legs.

“Where?” Chan’s tone is neutral, almost bored.

Hyunjin only uses honorifics now when he wants something from Chan. “Here, hyung,” he says, trying to gesture again. And here and here and here.

“Hm.” Chan drops to his knees fluidly. The hand on the bed creeps higher until it brushes against Hyunjin’s cock. “What about here?”

Hyunjin rolls his hips up into Chan’s touch, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him when Chan doesn’t take his hand away, when he closes tighter around him instead. “Yes, please.”

Chan strokes him through his pants, letting Hyunjin hump against the heel of his palm. The lust clouds Hyunjin’s mind. All the other things melt away. So what if Hyunjin is going mad, and Chan along with him? So what if Hyunjin remembers little, as long as he remembers this? He doesn’t stop to wonder why Chan is being so giving, why he isn’t trying to drag it out like he always likes to. It feels good and Hyunjin lets his eyes flutter shut, moaning softly when Chan’s thumb finds his slit.

He feels his orgasm building quickly. He’s tense, arching off the bed, chasing after Chan’s touch even though he hasn’t moved his hand. He supposes it’s been building all day, since the first heady rush of adrenaline hit him, when he realized Chan had picked up the chase.

“Close?” Chan asks. He almost sounds sympathetic. The static in Hyunjin’s head only grows louder; he nods wordlessly, straining. He’s so close, so close—

And then Chan pulls away, and Hyunjin is left to shake and gasp in his hubris. Of course Chan wouldn’t be so nice, of course there’s a catch, because there always is, and Hyunjin should know better by now. Faintly, as the ringing in his ears subsides, he realizes Chan is laughing.

“Please,” Hyunjin stutters. “You’re terrible to me.”

“And you’re terribly impatient,” Chan replies smoothly, running a light touch down his left leg. “You’ve made me wait all day. Now it’s your turn.”

Hyunjin wants to argue, but Chan’s hands find the clasp on his pants, and he decides against it.

He’s come down somewhat, but he’s still quite sensitive when Chan wraps a hand around his cock, pulling it out of his underwear, coaxing the waistband aside with his other hand. He tugs against the chains, forgetting for a second that they’re there. He wants Chan to touch him, but not like this, not when he’s not going to get anything out of it.

It’s a shame that Hyunjin is such a pretty crier, really. That’s how most of this started. Chan likes to see him cry, and he likes to tell Hyunjin no. And the worst part is that’s all Hyunjin wants, too.

Chan strokes Hyunjin slowly, watching for the hitch in his breath, the way the line of his neck will go taut. Hyunjin knows all his own tells because of all the time Chan spent teaching them to him. But knowing isn’t the same thing as controlling, so he can’t do anything except watch as he gives himself away, and Chan lets him go at the last second, once again.

Hyunjin clenches his jaw, fighting blindly against his restraints. Somewhere, he registers that the less he fights, the sooner they come off—when Chan senses he no longer needs them. But it’s a very small and dim part of him; the rest rails fruitlessly against the chains, twisting up the duvet in the process.

Eventually, the terrible, strung-out feeling ebbs enough that he feels he can breathe again, and he settles down. It’s not that he needs to breathe, but the rhythm of it is nice, and it’s always a comfort when something else is wrong.

Tears sting at his eyes, but not insistently enough yet that Hyunjin can’t will them away. He feels punched out and weak. Chan is still watching him, placid, sitting back on his heels, hands folded in his lap. His discipline is infuriating.

“We’re only just beginning,” Chan says mildly. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

“Please,” Hyunjin says again. He doesn’t know what else to say—really, he knows there isn’t anything else to say. Nothing he says or does will change Chan’s mind about whatever he has planned. “Let me come, please, and I promise I can do it again.”

“I know you can,” Chan says, still maddeningly calm, responses automatic and perfect. “And you will. But only after I’ve finished having fun.”

Hyunjin groans, dropping his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Chan shifts below him, and then Hyunjin feels his tongue against the head of his cock, and he can’t suppress the reedy whine that expels itself from his lungs. Chan takes him into his mouth, all the way down, and Hyunjin balls his hands into fists, trying to remain still, trying not to react so that Chan won’t be able to pull off in time and he’ll finally get to come.

Unsurprisingly, he is entirely unsuccessful. Just as that delicious pressure is beginning to build, Chan sits back, releasing Hyunjin’s cock with a soft pop. Hyunjin screams this time, raw and angry.

“Does it hurt?” Chan asks sweetly.

Hyunjin wrenches his head up so he can look his tormentor in the eye. “Fuck you,” he snarls, his voice partially choked away by the chain. “Fuck you.”

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s mostly lip service, but there is a certain degree of earnestness in Chan’s eyes.

“No,” Hyunjin grumbles, nearly growls, low in his chest and forced out through bared teeth.

“You know I’ll give you what you want eventually,” Chan says, though right now Hyunjin has a very hard time believing him. “You just have to work for it, that’s all.”

Hyunjin lets another fuck you bubble up in his chest. He doesn’t get to say it, though, because Chan’s mouth is on his cock again, and everything else immediately escapes him.

This time Chan brings him much closer to coming, so close that Hyunjin really thinks, for just a moment, that he’s going to just let him do it, but Chan releases him before it can happen, and Hyunjin convulses, orgasm ripped away yet again.

The anger has been shocked out of him, and it’s been replaced by a heavy despair. Tears well in Hyunjin’s eyes again, and this time he just lets them collect. They’ll spill over when they’re ready.

Chan doesn’t give him much time to recover. He wraps a hand around the base of Hyunjin’s cock and suckles on the tip. Hyunjin watches through half-lidded eyes. Chan has such pretty lips. He has such a handsome face overall, really, enchanting and haunting.

Chan flicks his eyes up and catches Hyunjin looking. The cold, dead-set focus that Hyunjin sees there shocks a gasp out of him. He arches up into Chan’s mouth, head lolling back. He twists his neck; the chain that’s been holding his head in place retreats, and he presses his face into the pillow. He’s close, so close; he could come, if Chan would just—

All his touches vanish, and Hyunjin looks disappointment straight in the face for the fifth time that night. His eyes roll back in his head; though it feels awful, it also feels good. Hyunjin thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind feeling like this forever, and he moans, letting his body float back down towards the bed, lifting his head as he turns to look at Chan.

He registers something wet against his cheek, and realizes he’s begun to cry. He’s not sobbing; his breathing has hardly picked up to accommodate it. It’s just that the tears will not stop.

“That’s better,” Chan says softly. “There’s the Hyunjin I know.”

Hyunjin is reminded of the feeling of the venom taking over his body. Each one of his cells feels like it is on high alert. The reminder of the fear is there, lurking just on the outskirts of his mind. Pacing.

“Chan,” he whimpers.

Chan only hums in response, reaching out for Hyunjin’s cock again. He runs a singular finger up its length, and Hyunjin dissolves into a fresh wave of tears. He moans softly with each breath, though, almost involuntarily. The fear has subsided somewhat. He’s safe. Of course he’s safe.

Chan lets him settle, then strokes him with three fingers—thumb on one side, index and middle on the other—slow and gentle. Hyunjin sighs out soft noises of pleasure. He rolls his hip up to meet Chan’s hand. For a few moments, everything is quiet and calm.

But then the pressure is building again, and he knows Chan can feel it too. He speeds up, and Hyunjin relishes it even though he knows it just means he’ll come crashing down even faster.

As all of Hyunjin’s muscles tense, Chan slows again. “No,” Hyunjin protests softly. “No, no, no, please—“

Chan takes his hand away and Hyunjin wails at the loss. There’s a hungry pit at the bottom of his belly, gaping wide, and it hurts, but still, Hyunjin wants more.

Chan seems to have other plans, though. He seems to know that Hyunjin’s limbs have stopped obeying him because the chains are gone. Hyunjin doesn’t think to move. He lets Chan manhandle him, lifting him up and turning him side to side to undress him. He waits for Chan to discard his own clothes as well, sprawled limp on the bed.

Chan returns to him, and Hyunjin lets his eyes rove over the body he knows so well. His broad shoulders ripple as he moves; Hyunjin quickly snaps his gaze to Chan’s strong pecs and sturdy core, then down to his cock where it hangs hard and heavy between his legs.

Chan has found lube somewhere when Hyunjin wasn’t paying attention. It’s not strictly necessary—Hyunjin won’t be hurt if they don’t use it—but it will certainly make things easier, and speed up the entire process.

Chan presses a slick finger into Hyunjin, only giving him a few shallow thrusts before adding another. Hyunjin opens up for him easily, and soon Chan is pumping four fingers in and out.

Hyunjin could come like this, soon, and Chan knows. He gives it another minute, until Hyunjin is panting and clenching down around him, and then pulls out, watching in satisfaction as Hyunjin writhes and drools and cries.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin finds himself mumbling. “Oh fuck, please, please just fuck me.”

“Still so impatient,” Chan says, but he lines himself up all the same. “We have forever,” he reminds Hyunjin.

“Don’t care,” Hyunjin breathes out. This is a lie, technically—the fact that they have forever is the only thing stopping him from climbing on top of Chan right now and riding him until they’re both completely spent and thoroughly exhausted. Chan has no idea what impatience looks like. “Fuck me.”

Chan pushes into him and Hyunjin opens his mouth in a silent scream. Chan leans over him as he bottoms out until he’s close enough, and then kisses into his mouth, tongue running along the backs of Hyunjin’s upper teeth. Hyunjin realizes now that this is the first time they’ve kissed all day.

He kisses back as best he can, but there are stars in his eyes. He jerks violently when he feels Chan’s hand on his cock, trying to bite down even though he’s still being kissed, wet and messy.

“Want to come?” Chan asks between kisses.

“Yes,” Hyunjin pleads breathily. “Yes, please, please—”

He takes Chan’s silence as permission. In any case, as Hyunjin moans and squirms beneath him, Chan doesn’t stop. Hyunjin spills over his hand, across both of their stomachs, and Chan doesn’t stop.

It feels euphoric. Hyunjin lets the orgasm consume him, twitching as the pleasure scatters out across his body in sweet bursts, eyes rolled back in his skull. He can feel it everywhere; in his toes, in his teeth. Faintly, he registers his own voice, hoarse from overuse, chanting thank-yous as he comes back down.

But still Chan doesn’t stop, and now Hyunjin remembers the other edge to this sword—now that Hyunjin has come, Chan won’t let him stop until he’s satisfied and Hyunjin is nothing but a shell. Chan thrusts into him, hard and deep, and Hyunjin wishes he could enjoy it. But now he can only shake, Chan’s cruel fingers still wrapped tight around Hyunjin’s cock, slick with his release.

Hyunjin chokes on nothing. Everything hurts, and the fear is back, crowding out everything else. His throat feels raw, and he realizes it’s because he’s screaming.

Chan brings a hand to Hyunjin’s neck, squeezing around where the column of his throat meets his jaw. Hyunjin’s eyes dart around the room until he finds Chan’s waiting for him.

“Just me,” Chan says lowly. “The worst is behind you, darling. The next-worst is so far yet to come. Now, it’s just me. It is just me, and I will never hurt you.”

“Hurts,” Hyunjin whimpers, but the haze of fear is receding.

“You can do it.” Not an encouragement. An expectation. A demand. It gives Hyunjin something else to focus on. “It hurts, but not like that. Nothing will ever hurt like that, as long as you’re with me.”

Hyunjin knows it’s true. “Safe with you,” he slurs, and satisfaction and triumph war on Chan’s face.

Chan keeps his hand there on Hyunjin’s throat. Hyunjin holds it tight when Chan continues his thrusting, faster now that Hyunjin has relaxed. The solid weight of Chan’s cock inside him distracts him from the shocks of oversensitivity, and though Hyunjin is already exhausted and his body already aching, he feels himself begin to harden again in Chan’s palm.

Hyunjin’s body is no longer his own; he has no command over it now. It’s Chan’s. Chan twists his wrist and Hyunjin’s legs spasm; he pushes in deep and grinds into him, and a string of nonsense, praise and pleas and prayers all muddled together, spill across Hyunjin’s lips. Maybe Hyunjin’s body has always been Chan’s from the start, not just in these moments; maybe everything Hyunjin has belongs to him. Maybe he wants it to be true. He is Chan’s, and Chan is his. His Chan, his savior, his love. He doesn’t need to know anything else.

He watches Chan reverently, though his eyelids are heavy and his vision swims. Chan’s pretty lips are curled in concentration, his eyes dark, body taut, all firm muscle and shadow. Hyunjin reaches out to him with the hand that isn’t clinging to Chan’s wrist, and Chan dips close. Hyunjin’s fingers shake as he splays them across his cheek. He runs his thumb over Chan’s mouth, and Chan lets his eyes close.

“Chan,” Hyunjin whispers, barely audible. He can’t feel anything except the heavy fog in his head and the insistent pulse of desire in his cock. And Chan’s skin under his fingertips, beautiful and smooth like marble.

Chan leans into his touch and Hyunjin feels tears threaten again, so grateful for him, for his love; grateful that he hasn’t given up on him yet after so many years. His lips graze Hyunjin’s palm and his fingers drag over Hyunjin’s cock and Hyunjin is coming, dizzy and nearly out of his mind with pleasure, even though it hurts—maybe because it hurts. Chan doesn’t take his hand off Hyunjin’s cock, doesn’t move away, doesn’t stop choking him, doesn’t stop the steady rock of his hips.

More tears, and this time Hyunjin does sob. It comes out small and garbled because of the hand around his throat, and when Hyunjin looks at Chan, he finds him looking back, hungry. The image of him is blurry, but he feels Chan’s lips still on his hand. He can feel them moving, but he can’t hear anything at first.

“Good,” he finally makes out. “Perfect.”

Hyunjin sobs again, pressing up against the tight hold Chan has on his throat. “Love you,” he croaks out. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Chan replies immediately. Hyunjin can feel the shape of the words on his palm.

Hyunjin is beyond overstimulated. He feels like he’s been plunged into an ice bath and then moved to burn in a roaring fire and then back to the ice once again. The arm he has raised is shaking. Chan must notice, because he gets close so Hyunjin can rest his elbow on the mattress beside him. Or maybe he just comes close so he can kiss him. Hyunjin has no complaints either way. He lets his hand slip into Chan’s hair and his tongue slip into Chan’s mouth.

Chan moans quietly at first, then longer and louder as the minutes stretch on. Hyunjin notes faintly that he’s still crying, but he can’t bring himself to care. He pets Chan’s hair, soothing him between kisses, begging him to come.

His coaxing seems to be working; Chan is thrusting into him faster and faster, and his hand is flying over Hyunjin’s cock at the same pace. His moans have turned to something darker, more guttural, and they echo in Hyunjin’s ears and rattle around his skull.

Chan releases his throat and Hyunjin wheezes. He separates their lips, nosing down under Hyunjin’s jaw, pressing his tongue flat to the skin there. Hyunjin uses his hand to move Chan down his neck—here, hyung, and here and here and here—until he’s right over the scar on Hyunjin’s neck, where he was bitten. All of it is too much, and Hyunjin is coming for a third time, shivering as he feels it hit his stomach, his chest.

Chan stills not seconds later, teeth digging into the scar tissue. Hyunjin feels him pulsing inside of him and he sighs in contentment, tightening his grip on Chan’s hair.

They rest like that for a moment. Hyunjin can barely feel his limbs. His eyelashes cling to each other, sticky with tears. The moon is high in the sky now, bright white light shining down onto their bed. Chan’s back ripples as he finally pushes himself up. He pulls out of Hyunjin in the process, and Hyunjin feels his come dribble out of his hole a few seconds later.

Chan is tugging Hyunjin up with him. Hyunjin goes reluctantly, head lolling to one side when there is nothing to support it. “Chan,” he mumbles. Chan brings him closer, until they’re chest to chest. He uses his hands to guide Hyunjin up, folding his knees. He hooks Hyunjin’s chin over his shoulder, and when Hyunjin opens his eyes again, he finds himself facing his reflection in the mirror that’s mounted on the opposite wall.

His face is streaked with tears, his hair messy, his lips kiss-bitten and bruised. He looks like a wreck. He moans without thinking about it.

Chan’s big hands are on his back, Hyunjin’s arms draped weakly over his biceps. Chan turns his head to press a kiss to Hyunjin’s hair. “Almost done,” he says, so sweet and soft that Hyunjin finds himself nodding along until he realizes what that means.

“No, no—” But it’s too late. Chan’s got a hand around his cock, and it hurts, hurts all over. Hyunjin squeezes his eyes shut, curling forward, trying to get away from the feeling, but Chan’s hand just follows him. He digs his forehead into Chan’s shoulder, jaw dropped open so far he thinks if he was human, he would have already dislocated it. That hurts too, and he cries out with every one of Chan’s movements.

“Stop that,” Chan says quietly. “Watch in the mirror.”

It’s a gentle command, but a command all the same. Hyunjin keens in distress, but he raises his head, blinking his eyes open. “Chan,” he complains, his voice small and broken.

“Just one more,” Chan promises. “You can do one more.”

“No,” Hyunjin slurs, shaking his head insistently while his body betrays him, his cock stiffening once again in Chan’s hand. “I can’t, I can’t.”

Chan rocks him slightly, pressing his lips to Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Yes, you can.”

Chan works him slow and gentle. Hyunjin rests his cheek on his shoulder and watches in the mirror, watches his own eyes fill with tears again and spill over, watches how his face, which began contorted in pain, shifts into an expression of heady bliss. It still hurts—hurts worse than anything Chan has done to him in years, he thinks—but the pain bleeds into pleasure until he can’t tell the difference.

It builds and builds and builds, Hyunjin complaining and struggling the whole way, but he does as he’s told, and keeps his eyes glued to his reflection, even as his vision slips and slides until he’s not sure which part of what he sees is real. There’s a period where it feels fucking horrible, really, and at times Hyunjin’s pretty sure that even though he is immortal, he’s about to die.

But then the familiar pressure grows heavy in his stomach. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to warn Chan beforehand, just lets a tiny whimper escape his lungs, and then he spills a few drops of come over Chan’s knuckles. He closes his eyes in relief, collapsing against Chan, and Chan catches him, murmuring praise in his ear.

Chan lays him back down, and then stretches out beside him. They’ll clean up later; now, Hyunjin rolls toward Chan’s open arms, resting his temple on his shoulder. His body aches like he’s been in a fight and barely escaped with his life. He offers him a kiss—here, hyung, and here and here and here—and Chan accepts it. Hyunjin thinks he could sink right through the mattress, his love is so heavy in his chest.

Chan scoots back just a centimeter, then ducks his head down, closing his lip over the scar on Hyunjin’s neck, over the place where Hyunjin was damned to this life years and years ago. Hyunjin finds Chan’s wrist and pets over the scar there, humming. They stay like that until the moon dips below the tree line. The sky has turned from a deep black to an expectant sort of navy blue.

Like he often does these days, Hyunjin toys with the idea of suicide as he waits for the night to end. They’re safe inside, of course—each of their windows is reinforced with UV protection on the glass. But he would need only to walk outside after the sun rose and wait for death to take him. A half hour at most, if he went at noon on a cloudless day. The thought is comforting, but he would never do it without Chan. He could never leave Chan alone. And he doesn’t wish to bring it up quite yet, so he banishes the thought from his mind. It might be for the best to do it—Hyunjin only has fragments of who he was left over, and he loses more and more every day. But, like with everything else, he is too weak to do what is right.

The sun is on the rise now; Hyunjin can see the red tinge of it on the horizon. Outside, the birds have awoken and begun to sing. Hyunjin thinks of the long day ahead of them; he thinks about how the years slip by so quickly, blurring into one another, yet each day feels like a lifetime. Chan shifts beside him, detaching from his neck, pulling him closer and knocking their foreheads together. It’s alright, Hyunjin thinks. At least I have Chan. It would be unbearable without him.

Outside, the world rages on, Hyunjin is sure. He’ll never venture out to check. Why should he? In this house, things are good and quiet. Hyunjin’s fingers are still on Chan’s wrist, right where his pulse should be. But there’s nothing, just silence.

“Chan,” Hyunjin says softly. “You will stay here with me, right?” The grief comes again, strange and unwanted, with the echo of once-known laughter and a voice Hyunjin wishes he could recognize. And then it all disappears, swift and fleeting. Hyunjin can’t get a grasp of it, and so lets it go. “You will stay?” he asks.

Chan, like always, replies, “Yes, I will stay.” He presses closer still. “I will stay here with you. I love you. You love me, don’t you?”

It’s a silly question, but Hyunjin doesn’t say so. He can’t; he feels drawn into some kind of trance, too content to think properly. “Yes,” he says. His voice sounds far away. “I love you. I have always loved you. I will love you forever.” Chan makes a noise of want in the back of his throat. I will, Hyunjin thinks, even when war comes, and famine and disease; even when all the living things begin to die, even when time devastates the earth. “You will stay here in this house with me, even as it comes down around us,” he says, “and we will be in love. Forever.”

Chan nods along. “And we will never leave,” he whispers. Hyunjin can feel Chan’s breath on his neck.

Hyunjin sighs, maybe not happily, but at least in satisfaction, to know his fate. “And we will never leave,” he repeats, quiet so he’s sure Chan is the only one who hears him.

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