Taehyung hates Christmas. If you ask him, it is one-hundred percent the worst time to be alive and he wishes he could be some sort of species that hibernates so he’d just be sleeping it off and waking up when everything is thawing and pretty again. Or some sort of variation of that, because he doesn’t exactly mind winter per se, and he does still love throwing himself birthday parties that seamlessly turn into New Year parties, that part is fine. It’s just Christmas he can’t deal with.
Christmas sucks when you’re a werewolf.
Wolves do not hibernate. Neither do humans. And so, neither does Taehyung, an uneven mix of the two. What he does is get frustrated and curse Christmas and sleep with people he should keep his paws off.
But more on that later. First, Christmas sucks because it’s cold and there’s snow everywhere and later on in winter, Taehyung will be used to it, but in December, it’s still fresh and terrible. Usually his body goes into overdrive and overheats right before a full moon, making him want to go outside in shorts and a T-shirt in three feet of snow, which he can’t do because he doesn’t want to arouse suspicion in people outside. After full moon, his body will tire out and cool down so much that he needs to hole up at home for four days wrapped in several blankets and drinking so much hot tea he might as well just set up camp in the bathroom. It’s complicated and exhausting and he hates it.
But the worst part, the absolute worst, the most horrible, terrible part of Christmas, is mistletoe.
He can’t tolerate mistletoe. As in, it makes him sick. Physically. Like a dog. If you give a dog mistletoe, it’ll get sick. Taehyung has learned the hard way that werewolves inherited this trait from their more animal side. If you give Taehyung mistletoe, he’ll get feverish and throw up, like he caught the flu, and it’s always a quick way to ruin his holidays. Some years it even ruined his birthday, which he found exceptionally hard to forgive.
Now, of course, you would think that as someone whose only job is being a freelance assassin, Taehyung doesn’t come across many people who insist on hanging mistletoe. But he’s a sociable guy. Killing people is anything but a full time job and whenever he has downtime, he likes to go outside and meet people, go to bars and clubs and coffee shops and libraries, make friends and talk to people. He finds it enjoyable for exactly eleven months of the year.
Then everyone starts hanging mistletoe in doorways and wiggling their eyebrows at him waiting for a kiss when Taehyung is busy trying to keep the contents of his stomach inside of his body somehow.
Maybe as a werewolf who cares about his species’ reputation he should focus more on his people skills and less on murder. Taehyung hates when people act like all werewolves are inherently aggressive and will sooner or later kill someone, because if you take good care of yourself, you won't. The thing is, when Taehyung was younger, he did not take good care of himself, and neither did anyone else. He's better with his urges by now, locks himself up in a very robust basement for full moons and hasn't growled at any fast moving animals or cars in years, but as a teenager, he was terrible. He couldn't focus and dropped out of school, and when all you have in your skill set is violence and all you have in your wallet is a dollar and thirty-seven cents, freelance assassination starts to sound like a good career opportunity.
So today, Taehyung kills more because it pays really, really well and he's good at it, and less because he's part monster.
It's not like people know, anyway. While Taehyung occasionally meets people here and there who believe the stories, the existence of werewolves isn't officially known to the public. Usually when he gets jobs, his employers have no idea that he grows fur and enormous fangs once a month, they just think he's a good old human hitman.
Which makes it even funnier that he got sent out to kill a werewolf hunter.
Well, maybe funny is the wrong word.
Min Yoongi comes from a long line of hunters, and they’ve always been doing well for themselves. He’s not just the son of a woman who has killed entire armies of monsters with her bare hands, he is also the son of the wealthy CEO to a big name company that has been getting a little too powerful for Taehyung’s client’s tastes. Yoongi himself doesn’t do much, just lounges around in his own house far outside the city composing music and being a general artsy recluse instead of helping his dad, but their relationship is apparently still good. Good enough that some people might hope it’d crush his poor parents if something happened to their son, make them jeopardize their business. Little do those people know that Min Yoongi is not, in fact, just a spoiled little boy with a piano who wouldn’t know how to defend himself if someone were to come into his house and try to harm him. His mother taught him well, very well, and while he’s not the most active hunter out there, he’s certainly not opposed to that particular half of his family’s business.
So Taehyung had to try a different approach.
They’ve been fucking for a month. That’s where the whole sleeping with people he should keep his paws off comes into play.
Maybe he wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t December. Taehyung has fucked targets before, or just flirted with them, simply to spy on them, but with Min Yoongi it’s been getting a little bit excessive. And maybe it’s because he hates the snow and he hates talking to people during December because everyone is excited about a time that he hates, and Yoongi doesn’t talk much and never once wanted a mistletoe kiss from him, and Taehyung is frustrated and grouchy, so he guesses that’s a good enough reason to keep him alive until next year, until all the craze is over. That, and because the sex is great and Yoongi looks really good. Taehyung is not above admitting that.
There is mistletoe somewhere in this house. Taehyung can smell it, the way you’d smell someone cooking a meal you don’t like in a different room. But instead of having it up somewhere as Christmas decoration, Yoongi probably just keeps it in a drawer along with his silver weapons, which is still unsettling if Taehyung thinks about it too much, but they’re far away enough that he can push it to the back of his mind.
He thinks Yoongi probably knows. They’ve never talked about it, but Taehyung thinks he does. He himself didn’t know about Yoongi and his family before he met Yoongi, and he smelled it on him, the silver and the gunpowder and the goddamn mistletoe, and then he did his research. And research is what Yoongi and his family have been doing for generations, so Taehyung doubts that Yoongi didn’t see the signs in him. There’s always something that gives them away if you look too closely. If you even believe in werewolves in the first place.
If you do, you'll notice sooner or later, you'll notice the meaty diet, the claw scars from bad full moons, the way every noise and every movement, every grip, is controlled carefully as to not come off too animalistic, too firm, too loud.
Yoongi probably noticed that last part the most.
That's alright. Two more weeks, then December is over, and then Taehyung will kill him.
That is, if Yoongi doesn't kill him first.
He doesn't seem too motivated for now, what with all the booty calls and continuous sex, but Taehyung supposes according to that logic he himself wouldn't be motivated either, and he definitely is. Very motivated to kill Yoongi. Absolutely.
Taehyung always leaves early. They always fuck in Yoongi’s house and Taehyung always leaves early, as soon as they’re done and he’s sure he can safely stand on his own two feet. Sometimes Yoongi is already asleep, sometimes he isn’t, and he never tries to stop Taehyung when he quietly sneaks out of the house. Taehyung doesn’t want to stay longer than he has to, doesn’t want to get to know him too well, doesn’t want to stumble over any werewolf fur rugs or whatever he might have lying around in the rest of the house he rarely gets to see. And he assumes Yoongi doesn’t want to get to know him any better either.
Yoongi’s curled up with the blanket pulled over his chin, right now. Taehyung watches him while he pulls his clothes back on, all strewn over the floor and various surfaces of the bedroom. They started early today, mostly just because it gets dark so early now and Taehyung’s sense of time gets a little fucked, and apparently neither of them had anything better to do. It’s barely eleven p.m. now, but that still means they were at it for a good two hours. No surprise to Taehyung that Yoongi is exhausted enough to just pass out while he’s still putting his clothes on.
Taehyung finds his coat and his shoes on the way downstairs and slips them on, wraps himself tightly into the soft brown coat and takes a deep breath before reaching for the door. It’s been snowing a lot lately and he is not looking forward to walking twenty minutes to the next bus stop because Yoongi insists on living like a hermit.
He opens the door and sees white.
Taehyung blinks. He tilts his head back a little, and there’s a glimpse of it, a glimpse of the night sky, a strip of dark maybe five inches broad. Everything else is a wall of white. A very literal wall of white. There’s even an imprint of the door right in front of Taehyung’s nose, with a little hole where the doorknob goes. Taehyung reaches out and pokes the snow with a finger, sort of hoping that it just piled up in front of the door somehow and will fall over if he pushes it. But all he gets is another hole in the snow wall and a cold index finger.
Calmly, Taehyung closes the door again. He wipes his finger on his coat, then he takes his coat off again and puts it on Yoongi’s coat rack. The house is warm enough. That’s not really the problem right now.
He climbs back up the stairs and into the bedroom, and Yoongi is sitting up in bed now with the blanket pooling in his naked lap, hair sticking out from his head, blinking at him blearily. Taehyung comes to a halt in the middle of the room and looks at him in silence for a second before he opens his mouth and says, “We’re snowed in.”
Yoongi looks back at him blankly. Then he turns, still sitting in bed, towards the window right next to it and reaches out to pull up the blinds and peek outside. It’s perfectly quiet for a bit, while they both watch the snow fall, looking soft and peaceful and clean. Taehyung kind of wishes he had a flamethrower.
“Well,” Yoongi says, “shit.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says. He toes his shoes off again and just leaves them on the floor in Yoongi’s bedroom. He’s not getting out of here anytime soon. He’s starting to realize that now. Even if Yoongi wanted to, and even if Taehyung wanted to, it’d take them forever to clear the way for him outside. And neither of them really looks as if they feel like shoveling six feet of snow in the middle of the night. “What now?”
Yoongi turns back towards him, looks him over once, tilts his head, smiles and says, “Round two?”
“Sure, that works,” Taehyung says immediately. Unceremoniously, he starts stripping off his clothes again, but Yoongi seems to enjoy watching him anyway. Maybe he’s just as relieved as Taehyung; this could have been way more complicated, Yoongi could have thrown him out, or Yoongi could have let him sleep on the couch in the living room or something, or even here in his bed, they could have decided to spend time together, and that would have been weird. It’s good that they’re just going to fuck again. That they’re on the same page.
Taehyung climbs on the bed and pushes Yoongi back into the mattress by his shoulders, holding his gaze, noticing the satisfied smirk on his lips before he leans down to kiss them. “It’ll be better in the morning,” Yoongi mutters into his mouth, one hand moving to pull the blanket out from between them, the other one scooting up Taehyung’s back and into his hair. “So let’s see how many orgasms we’ll get out of you until then.”
“Big words,” Taehyung murmurs and grabs the blanket to pull it over them both instead. He is naked and chilly.
Yoongi hums softly as he hooks one leg around Taehyung’s and pushes him down, grinding their soft bare cocks together and making both of their breaths hitch. There’s still a patch of dried cum on Yoongi’s stomach somewhere, Taehyung knows (he reeks of it), but he doesn’t particularly mind right now, he thinks. “Why not?” Yoongi says, lips ghosting over Taehyung’s jaw now. “We have time and nothing to do, and you didn’t bring any weapons tonight, so I’m assuming this isn’t some sort of ploy to finally get rid of me.”
Taehyung pulls back. He holds himself up by his palms to both sides of Yoongi’s head and looks down at him, at his smile, barely there but still smug. He can hear Yoongi’s heart beat perfectly calmly in his chest.
“Except if,” Yoongi says slowly, rolling his hips up to rub against Taehyung gently, “you were planning to kill me with your bare hands, which I know you’re capable of, but I dunno. You don’t seem like you’d want to dirty your hands with me like that.”
“Yeah, you’re not worth it,” Taehyung says, feeling his wits come back to him. Okay, so Yoongi definitely knows, and apparently he wants to talk about it now, with their dicks sliding against each other and the front door blocked by snow. They can do that. Sure. He leans back down and licks a wet stripe up the side of Yoongi's neck, making him tighten the grip on his hair. “You don't have some sort if silver dagger in your nightstand, right?”
Yoongi laughs. With the hand not tangled in Taehyung's hair, he reaches to the side and pulls the bedside drawer open, then he puts it back on Taehyung and slides it down his back until he can cup his ass. “Feel free to check.”
Taehyung does look up to peek into the drawer, but all he sees in there are tissues, lube and condoms. He reaches inside and pauses, eyeing Yoongi. “You know,” he says, “we don't technically have to use condoms because my body rejects any sort of disease anyway and I can neither catch nor transmit anything.”
“You can transmit lycanthropy,” Yoongi points out and Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“Not with my dick,” he says. Then he leans down and buries his teeth in the thin skin above Yoongi's collarbone, sharp enough to leave a bruise and make him flinch with a gasped out curse. “More like this.”
Yoongi tugs at his hair and jerks his hips up simultaneously, pulling a choked noise from Taehyung's throat. “Oh, I’d shoot you right in the face for that,” he whispers, and Taehyung doesn't know why that tone of voice sends a series of white hot sparks down his spine, but it does. “But only after I would have force fed you a pound of mistletoe, you little shit. Unable to catch anything my ass, I could make you vomit and sweat your soul out if I just took you to the Christmas market for twenty minutes.”
“Okay, first, I don't think literal poisoning really counts as a disease,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly. He finally pulls his hand out of the nightstand to drop lube and condoms on the mattress for the second time tonight, then he reaches between them to wrap his fingers around Yoongi's slowly hardening cock. “Second, the way to the market in town from your stupid hermit house would be so long, I'd have plenty of time to rip you to shreds with nothing but my teeth before we'd even get there.”
Yoongi groans, and the sound goes straight to his dick, but Taehyung almost laughs at how they suddenly get off on threatening each other when they didn't do anything worse than a few hickies and scratch marks for a whole month. He supposes it's just been piling up inside them. Taehyung doesn't necessarily feel like tearing Yoongi apart with his teeth, but he sure doesn't mind reminding him that he could. Yoongi's hand disappears from Taehyung's ass only to scoot over the mattress and shove the pack of condoms off the bed.
“Fuck, forget it, then,” he rasps, and suddenly they're moving, because Yoongi still has his legs hooked around Taehyung's and his hands are pushing against his shoulders now until he has them maneuvered around and Taehyung is on his back. His hand is still wrapped loosely around Yoongi’s cock and as Yoongi straddles Taehyung's lap he pushes himself forward to thrust into it, dragging his ass over Taehyung's own dick in the process. While Taehyung is still choking on a moan, Yoongi looks down at him with hooded eyes. “Make it messy.”
“Shit, yeah,” Taehyung gets out, his free hand fumbling for the lube. The other one inevitably has to let go of Yoongi so he can slick up his fingers, but Yoongi seamlessly switches to jacking himself off with one hand, slowly, as if only to keep himself busy, eyes always trained on Taehyung. It makes heat course through his whole body, and the cool lube on his fingers is an almost physical relief.
Knowing that Yoongi will still be loose from earlier, Taehyung pulls one of his ass cheeks aside with his free hand and pushes in two fingers at once. Yoongi hisses softly and shifts on his knees, already rolling himself backwards against Taehyung’s hands like it’s nothing. Though Taehyung supposes with the amount of sex they’ve been having regularly, that’s not exactly a surprise.
“So is that always how you do it?” Taehyung says, then he has to pause to breathe because Yoongi grabbed the lube and is now running a cool slick palm up Taehyung’s cock, too. Yoongi smirks at how it makes Taehyung visibly lose composure for a second, sputtering on words, fingers twitching in his ass and hips jerking up, so Taehyung tries to get it out of his system with a loud moan and then focus back on what he was trying to say. “God, fuck. Do you-- Do you do this a lot? Fuck what you hunt?”
Yoongi laughs, breathlessly with a shiver running down his back, but his hands are still working steadily, more so than his hips. “I could ask you the same thing,” he says softly, then he leans down and at first Taehyung thinks he’s getting a kiss, but Yoongi bites into his shoulder instead while pushing his ass backwards to get Taehyung’s fingers in deeper. “But, no. You’re the first.”
“Oh,” Taehyung says. For some reason, that’s not what he wanted to hear. He wonders what Yoongi thinks he’s doing here, whether Taehyung is some sort of hunter hunter who came here of his own accord. That would be kind of a cowardly move, Taehyung thinks. If he really wanted to kill a hunter specifically for the purpose of killing a hunter, he’d be fucking Yoongi’s mom right now.
Taehyung’s brain-to-mouth filter usually doesn’t work very well, so it’s a blessing that Yoongi continues talking before Taehyung can say something stupid.
“I figured it out early on,” he murmurs, warm against his skin, hips moving more than his hands now. Taehyung’s pretty sure he should be stretched enough already, but it’s not like he minds. Yoongi can probably use the time to work himself up again. Taehyung doesn’t need it -- he and his werewolf stamina are doing just fine -- but he does enjoy watching it. “Halfway into the first time, I think. But I was already kind of enjoying myself so I didn’t see the point in throwing you back out or, like, slitting your throat.”
“Still enjoying yourself, then?” Taehyung says and crooks his fingers to make Yoongi’s voice break on a gasp.
“Hmm, yeah, but,” Yoongi hums, quivering in his throat now, before letting go of them both and planting his hands on the mattress to give himself leverage. He pushes himself up on his knees and then, hands-free, maneuvers himself until the head of Taehyung’s cock catches on his slicked up rim. Taehyung takes a staggering breath and Yoongi smiles at him, “right now I’m looking at it more from a scientific standpoint. Full moon's drawing closer, isn't it?” He pushes himself more upright to sink down on him slowly, inch by inch and Taehyung is starting to feel dizzy with the effort of listening to him without just fucking his hips upward and burying himself in him earlier than he should. “I'm curious to see how that changes the way you fuck.”
“You wanna know how I fuck during a full moon?” Taehyung tries to quip, even if it comes out more than strained. “I don't.”
“No, that's not what I mean,” Yoongi says, unaffected. He seems relaxed now, still lowering himself, eyes always on Taehyung. “You can go and spend full moon alone wherever you lock yourself up. I just wanna see what you're like the week before. Do you get angry? Or just excited? How many rounds are you gonna be ready for?” Suddenly Yoongi pushes himself down, planting his ass flush against Taehyung's hips in one quick, merciless motion and grinning at Taehyung's helpless groan. “Are you finally gonna be able to keep your promise of making sure I can't walk for a week?”
Taehyung laughs hoarsely, fingertips digging into Yoongi's side, a quiver in his hips from keeping himself still. “My pre-full moon record was six rounds in one night,” he says and cocks a brow. “Why’re you so sure I lock myself up?”
At this, Yoongi furrows his brows just slightly, and it sends something through Taehyung, a weird spark that has nothing to do with sex. Taehyung does lock himself up for full moons so he doesn’t involuntarily hurt, kill or turn anyone, but Yoongi can’t know that. And yet, he seemed to have just assumed that he does. He seemed to have assumed that Taehyung is a decent person. Taehyung’s pretty sure that not every werewolf hunter thinks like that.
“Oh, you’d better,” Yoongi says quietly. He gyrates his hips carefully, without moving them off of Taehyung, and Taehyung’s breath flutters in his chest with the effort of keeping himself together. “I’d hate to have to kill you after all.”
Taehyung digs his heels into the mattress. It’s still eight days until full moon and all he really feels at this point is a mild urge to move a lot, jump around the kitchen while waiting for his coffee machine to finish, run after pigeons -- fuck into Yoongi. Usually he can still pull himself together, it won’t get really bad until later, maybe three or four days before full moon. But Yoongi is really fucking testing him right now.
His fingernails are leaving white crescents in the skin of Yoongi’s sides, and by now his hands are pressing in hard enough that he’s fairly sure he’ll leave hand-shaped bruises on either side, but Yoongi doesn’t even flinch. “So, what,” Taehyung says, trying to force his voice to sound even remotely stable, “you’ll only kill me if I make myself dangerous? Is that really how you roll or are you just trying to look good for me now?”
“I’m pretty sure I look good for you either way,” Yoongi says. He leans forward just enough so he can put his hands on either side of Taehyung’s head, his face close but not close enough to kiss, not close enough to bite at, then he slowly raises his hips up, and smiles. “And yes. I only put myself out there and help my mother if it’s someone who really worries us. Does that surprise you?”
He pushes himself down again but this time Taehyung is prepared, this time he cants his own hips up just a little bit, just enough to meet Yoongi sooner than he thought, and so now it’s Yoongi who chokes on a groan, and not Taehyung. Taehyung just sends him a lopsided grin. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me for being a tiny bit prejudiced.”
Yoongi wheezes out a laugh, strained as he starts to slowly build a rhythm. “I guess. Either way you weren’t really on my radar. Not until you literally came into my house because apparently you like to fuck before you kill.”
I’m not gonna kill him, Taehyung thinks, the thought zapping through his mind as quickly as he tries to blink it away afterwards. Sure he’s gonna kill him. That’s what he’s supposed to do, that’s what he gets paid for.
Yoongi is slamming himself down on him with a steadily intensifying pace now and that’s not exactly what Taehyung gets paid for, but it’s good enough to distract him. He starts jerking his hips up to meet Yoongi again, always watching how it makes him contort his face, tense up his shoulders for that split second, strain his arms with how they’re grabbing the bedspread.
“So,” Yoongi says, his voice just a raspy breath, huffed down into Taehyung’s face now, “what is it you’re doing? Some sort -- of -- fuck -- personal vendetta? Got a- ah problem with my f-family?”
Taehyung doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want to let Yoongi know that this wasn’t initially Taehyung’s own decision. He’s not here because of Yoongi as a person, and he’s not here because both of them are what they are, he’s just here because someone paid him to do this, but he doesn’t want Yoongi to know that. He kind of likes Yoongi thinking that this is all about them.
“If I had a problem with your family I’d take it up with your family,” he just says instead. “Not just with you.”
He punctuates his last word with a powerful thrust upwards, and that shuts Yoongi up. For now. Taehyung is well aware he still hasn’t actually answered his question, but he doesn’t want Yoongi to dig any deeper. So he’s just going to have to work until Yoongi can’t talk anymore.
Behind him, Taehyung bends his knees to give himself as much leverage as possible, grabs Yoongi so he can feel hip bones dig into his palms, and pushes him down the same time as he himself thrusts up. For a second, Yoongi’s whole body goes slack, lets Taehyung direct him fully and Taehyung groans at the sight alone while Yoongi hiccups on a moan. To his sides, Taehyung can feel and hear Yoongi grip the bedspread tighter, his senses starting to go into overdrive along with the rest of him, and he pulls his hips down again just to snap them back up.
It takes Yoongi a good few thrusts, thrusts he only spends bouncing around on Taehyung uselessly with his mouth hanging open and his eyes closed, letting the body beneath him slap up against him until the sounds of their skin meeting and their breathless panting fills the room. Then he gets a hold of himself again and starts moving, rolling his hips down sharply with each of Taehyung’s thrusts. Taehyung still has time to think that that’s impressive, then Yoongi is bending his elbows and leaning down, and his teeth in the side of Taehyung’s neck pull a choked whine from him.
It’s hard to give Taehyung hickies, thanks to his body being robust and no part of him breaking easily, but Yoongi is not someone who just gives up. He’s actually left a few bruises on Taehyung here and there before, and with the way he’s sucking skin into his mouth like he plans to rip Taehyung’s throat out right now, he might manage tonight, too. He shifts on his arms until one of his hands ends up in Taehyung’s hair, grabbing and pulling Taehyung’s head to the side to give himself more room, and Taehyung is still thrusting up into him, but he’s also holding onto Yoongi’s hips for dear life now. There’s just something about the way Yoongi maneuvers him around occasionally, the way he likes to take control subtly now and then, almost so Taehyung doesn’t realize what happened until later, that makes him almost unbearably hot.
They’re moving in a rough kind of unison now, bodies meeting loudly in the middle of each thrust, Taehyung groaning hoarsely into the hot air just above Yoongi’s body, Yoongi panting harshly against the skin of his neck and shoulder where he’s still working him with lips and teeth and tongue. By now Taehyung’s iron grip on Yoongi’s hips has loosened and he only keeps it up with one hand, the other one roaming from Yoongi’s ass up to his back and down again, leaving scratches and angry red welts in their wake which Yoongi hisses and bucks his hips at.
With his senses attentive like this, Taehyung can feel tiredness seeping from Yoongi’s body even as they’re still moving like this, fucking against each other like nothing else could keep them alive. Round number two has Yoongi meeting his limits, it’s in the heaviness of his limbs, in the hoarseness of his voice, the weakening grab of his hand in Taehyung’s hair. Taehyung knows his tells, knows the signs his body sends out, tries not to think about what that means in relation to his work.
Instead he decides to finish him off quickly, just not in the murder sense. Taehyung starts angling his thrusts more, keeping Yoongi in place with one hand on his ass and one on his shoulder now while he drills into him sharply, brushing over his prostate with each of his movements until he has Yoongi panting and whimpering and shaking. One more time, Yoongi’s sharp little teeth lock around the skin over Taehyung’s collarbone and Taehyung thinks he might actually pull blood this time, then Yoongi’s body goes rigid and all of his noises stop dead in their tracks.
Taehyung used to find it irritating how Yoongi goes completely silent during climax, but he’s been starting to like it lately. Even if the first waves are quiet, Yoongi usually sends a low, relaxed sigh out afterwards and that’s reward enough. But Taehyung doesn’t have enough time to really anticipate that now, because Yoongi’s ass clenches tight around him and the hand in his hair jerks and pulls and the bite on his chest stings, and that’s all enough to make the tight pull in Taehyung’s balls spread out to a hot rush through his whole body. Even with his werewolf stamina he could pull himself together and go on, but for now it’s way more satisfying to let himself go and fuck himself up deep into Yoongi as his orgasm hits him with white-hot heat in his veins.
By the time his hands relax around Yoongi’s body and his legs drop back to the mattress, Yoongi is sitting up on him calmly and thumbing at a spot on his collarbone. Taehyung feels his own breath brush past his sore throat, feels and smells the rapidly drying pool of Yoongi’s cum on his stomach, feels his own cum try to make its way out of Yoongi’s ass thanks to him being vertical again. Yoongi doesn’t seem to care; Yoongi, of course, doesn’t have his sense of smell. Lucky bastard.
“You’re so funny,” Yoongi says softly, fingers still rubbing over Taehyung’s skin. “There’s some blood, but no wound.”
It takes Taehyung a second to piece together what he’s talking about. Yoongi really must have drawn blood when he bit him just now, but it was a wound so tiny that his body managed to close it right away, and now all that’s left are the few droplets Yoongi managed to pull out of him.
“I’m fuckin’ hilarious,” Taehyung says dryly. “Also, that’s generally why vampires don’t fuck with us. Imagine trying to feed on someone whose skin is growing back while your teeth are still stuck inside.”
“I thought vampires don’t fuck with you because your blood makes them sick,” Yoongi cants, tilting his head. “And you guys don’t fuck with vampires because they smell like corpses.”
Taehyung huffs. “They are corpses.”
“Maybe you’re just being an asshole for refusing to be friends with people who smell bad,” Yoongi says and shoots him a playful frown, and Taehyung gets the wild thought that Yoongi is enjoying this. That he’s glad it’s out now, that they don’t have to beat around the bush about Taehyung being a werewolf anymore, and now Yoongi can make all his stupid jokes and ask all his stupid questions, and it’s. It’s kind of nice.
“I am friends with a few vampires, actually,” Taehyung says. His fingers have started playing on Yoongi’s quickly cooling skin completely on their own. “I’ve just learned to breathe shallowly when they’re near.”
Yoongi snorts. “A miracle of nature,” he says, then grimaces as he starts to shift around and slowly raise himself off of Taehyung until his soft cock slips out of him and he can climb off the bed. His knees crack in the process and Taehyung smiles. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”
He gets halfway through the bedroom on his slightly wobbly legs before he pauses and turns around again, eyeing Taehyung. “I suppose we're most probably still snowed in,” Yoongi says slowly and glances towards the window. Snow is still falling in fat flakes outside. “So just, uh… Stay in bed, if you want. I mean, it's big enough. So…”
“You're not gonna stab me in my sleep?” Taehyung says, and it sounds kind of like a joke, but it's not really.
Yoongi smiles like he didn't exactly find it funny anyway. “Only if you try to stab me first,” he says, then he turns around again and heads towards the bathroom down the hall.
Taehyung watches the light go on in the hallway, listens to the quiet tap-tap of Yoongi’s naked feet on the floor on his way to the bathroom. He reaches to the side and grabs a tissue, to wipe down his stomach at least once, even if it doesn’t really help against the smell, then he sits up.
It’s pretty outside, he guesses. Like they’re on the moon or something, the snow making it look like streets or sidewalk never even existed here, like everything is just this soft layer of white. Yoongi’s mailbox has disappeared completely by now, and the ground floor of the house feels more like a basement. Taehyung could open the window and dangle his feet outside and he might get pretty close to touching snow, that’s how far up it is already.
Yeah, he’s not getting out of here anytime soon.
This should make him nervous, he thinks now. Taehyung came without weapons, and Yoongi has a very literal home-turf advantage. All he needs to kill Taehyung is in this house.
But Yoongi won’t. Taehyung looks from the snow outside to the thick condensation on the bottom of the window inside. Call it werewolf intuition if you must. Yoongi won’t.
He flinches when a very quiet zap goes through the house. The hum of electricity grows louder for a split second, loud enough that it seems like a small bang to Taehyung’s fine ears, then it disappears completely. The street lamps outside fade to black. Taehyung looks around and the hallway is a black hole outside the bedroom door.
Down the hall, a toilet flushes, then water splashes for a few seconds. Taehyung can hear Yoongi flip the light switch a couple of times and can’t help but smile a little. Like it wasn’t clear that that’s not working the first time around.
Yoongi shows up in the doorway again, stark naked, his pale skin making him look like a lightning bug in the dark. “Power’s out,” he announces.
“Really,” says Taehyung.
“Oh, in the whole street?” Yoongi adds after a puzzled look outside, where only the snow is illuminating things now, giving everything a very soft wintery glow. When Taehyung nods, Yoongi sighs, pulls one of those nerdy satin-or-whatever robes off a chair and wraps himself in it before climbing back into bed and sitting next to Taehyung. Now they’re both staring outside. Only when Taehyung squints towards him inconspicuously does he see the little smile on Yoongi’s lips. “I guess whatever can go wrong will go wrong. We’re both stuck in here with someone who wants to kill us, and now we can’t even watch TV.”
Taehyung’s laugh sounds loud in the silence. It’s stronger now, without the electricity, a different kind of quiet. Like now it really is just him and Yoongi.
“I thought you don’t want to kill me,” he says.
“I don’t. But you want to kill me,” Yoongi says softly. “And that makes me want to kill you first.”
“I don’t want to kill you,” Taehyung says. The words come out quiet, but clear. He’s not sure why he said them right afterwards.
Yoongi sighs. “You know what’s unfair? You can tell when people lie to you. Right? You can hear their heart rate change, and your senses pick up on all that little stuff we do when we bullshit something. But I can’t. You tell me cryptic shit and I just have to deal with that. I have no idea what you’re here for, Kim Taehyung.”
“It’s not actually that easy to know when someone lies,” Taehyung says and looks down with a smile. He grabs the blanket and pulls it over his lap, because he doesn’t want to have this conversation completely naked, at least. “I’ve only ever seen really old and experienced werewolves who could.” Taehyung leans back on his hands, watching the branch of one of the trees in Yoongi’s garden struggle with the weight. “I was sent to kill you,” he says. “It has nothing to do with hunting or your mother. Actually, it’s more about your father. They’re hoping to render him incapable of running his company if he’s mourning his son.”
Yoongi turns his head and frowns at him, Taehyung can tell from the corner of his eyes. His eyesight is bad, especially in the dark, but he can see that much. “They?” Yoongi echoes. “Who they?”
“My employers,” Taehyung just says. “I dunno much about them. Only that they pay well, so I took the job. I work freelance. You get what I'm trying to say? I have nothing against you personally, I'm just making money.”
“Huh,” Yoongi says. For someone who just learned that people are sending out assassins after him, he's pretty chill. “So you do kill people, but not because you're a werewolf. Just because it pays well.”
“Yeah. That's pretty spot on. I'll admit though, superhuman strength tends to come in handy for it.”
Yoongi hums and leans to the side. Unashamedly, Taehyung watches his robe hug the curve of his ass when he stretches himself towards the edge of the bed, apparently fishing for his pants. When he sits back up, he holds his phone in his right hand, the screen lighting up so brightly Taehyung squints against it. “So,” Yoongi says and starts tapping around on it, “purely hypothetically, if someone were to offer you more money than your employers, you’d take it, I assume?”
Blinking, Taehyung turns his head to look him in the face. Truthfully, he’s been considering turning down the offer either way; he has enough money to get by for a while and he doesn’t really feel like killing Yoongi, not even after Christmas. But if there’s talk about even more money, he’s … not exactly one to say no to that. No, sir.
“What’s that?” Taehyung asks, after Yoongi has opened some sort of app on his phone that looks like its only purpose is showing some absurdly large number.
“My bank balance,” Yoongi says. Taehyung’s mouth falls open.
“That,” he says slowly, “is so fucking sexy.”
“I thought as much,” Yoongi says and laughs, switching off his screen again. “I’ll pay you not to kill me. How does that sound?”
“Unnecessary,” says Taehyung, “is how that sounds. I didn’t wanna kill you anyway, the sex was too good and your ass too nice. But you already offered, so, no takesie-backsies.”
“God damn it.”
“That’ll teach you to make business with werewolves. Also, please wake your phone screen back up. Dogs have crappy eyesight. I can’t see shit.”
“I don’t want to waste battery,” Yoongi says and climbs off the bed again. “I’ll get some candles to light.”
“I hope they’re not scented,” Taehyung says immediately. God does he hate scented stuff.
“Do I look like the kinda guy who owns scented candles?”
Taehyung looks at Yoongi, at the almost shapeless outline of him he can see in the dark, looks at how his fucking silk robe shines glittery enough for even him to be able to tell. “Yeah,” he says.
Yoongi opens his mouth, closes it, scoffs, and says, “I do have some unscented ones. Fucker.”
So Yoongi gets unscented candles and puts them on his windowsill, and then he and Taehyung continue sitting next to each other in his bed, half naked, watching the snow fall outside to the soft flickering flames in total darkness.
“They’ll send someone else after me if you don’t do it,” Yoongi says into silence.
“Yes, probably,” Taehyung says. He grins at Yoongi’s blurry reflection in the windowpane. “But they don’t know how well you can defend yourself.”
Yoongi smiles. “That’s true. Plus, I have a watchdog now.”
“Oh, you’re gonna have to pay me big time just for calling me that.”
They laugh, both of them. Taehyung feels warm inside and the snow looks pretty outside, and even the unscented candles still have their own scent to him once their wax starts to melt, and it’s all pretty nice, actually. Full moon is close but not close enough to stress him out, and the only piece of mistletoe in the house, Yoongi informs him, is locked away in the attic for emergencies that don’t behave as well as Taehyung. Taehyung bites his arm for the commentary and Yoongi gets half hard from it, so round three ensues.
“You know,” Taehyung says into silence afterwards, when they’re lying next to each other in Yoongi’s bed, spent and smelly under two blankets, “you could pay me to kill them. Right now you’re just paying me to do nothing and waiting for someone else to come by.”
Yoongi is silent for so long that Taehyung thinks he might have fallen asleep. Finally, his breath ghosting over Taehyung’s shoulder, he says, “Yeah, but I’m starting to get the feeling that things love to go wrong when we work together. Like our combined aggressive energy just kinda breaks things. I’m not letting you do anything until my power goes back on.”
Taehyung snorts. “Fair point,” he mumbles. “I guess.”
It doesn’t feel like that’s really the reason for Yoongi to let him off the hook so easily, and for a few moments, Taehyung wonders if Yoongi just doesn’t want him to kill more people. If he’s somehow so much more kind-hearted than Taehyung thought, and doesn’t want him to dirty his hands any more than he already has.
Then, with a smile very audible in his small voice, Yoongi says, “‘sides, I can just kill ‘em myself.”
A tiny groan slips out of Taehyung. “Fuck,” he whines, more or less accidentally, “you’re so hot. Do you think we could--”
“No. No round four. Absolutely not.”
“Coward,” Taehyung pouts. Under their blankets, Yoongi presses his cold feet to his calf and the yelp that comes out of Taehyung’s throat sounds more canine than human. Cackling, Yoongi might have just found the most effective boner kill in Taehyung’s poor, poor life.
But tiredness catches up with them both soon enough. Taehyung watches the snow fall hypnotically outside the window until his eyes slip shut, and falls asleep to the perfect silence of a house lost in the snow in the middle of nowhere.
Later, in the morning, after they have slept at least a few hours and dragged themselves into the kitchen to fix something Taehyung calls candlelit breakfast, Taehyung teaches Yoongi all about the troubles of a mistletoe allergy in December in his best whiny voice. Then Yoongi kisses him while holding a piece of tomato vine over their heads, saying it works just as well.
Yoongi has a little box with snowflake-shaped cookies on the kitchen table. He wears a horrible, scratchy-looking green and red jumper while they eat them in front of the fireplace. Taehyung might be warming up to Christmas.