San thrummed with energy.
Down from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers. He hadn’t even stepped inside the elegant ballroom, and yet — he wanted to walk back out. He wasn’t worthy. He swallowed, felt someone push him forward lightly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Wooyoung. The other had wasted little time. He linked arms with his beau, another newcomer to the scene. Or maybe one more deserving. Yunho and Wooyoung waltzed ahead as the purple-haired man shot San a grin. Asshole. His best friend intended to leave him to the figurative wolves of the evening.
He climbed the stairs at his own pace, almost terrified to get through the doors too fast. Those around him meandered as well, but there was an assurance of their place. They knew that they deserved to step through those high doors. Grand doors lined with centuries of elegance and immovable power. San swallowed again. If his heart could beat, it might have been all he heard in his ears.
The nervous energy coiled in him went to his head. Thoughts loomed over him, weighed on his shoulders. Had he dressed well enough? Would his eye be strange? No; it might be stranger with it covered, but it was too late to undo that mistake. The patch clashed with the rest of his attire for the evening, but there was nothing he could have done on short notice. Maybe he should have never covered it up to begin with, He grimaced, smoothed down the royal blue shirt that he’d borrowed from Wooyoung. It hung loosely on him; they weren’t that different and yet…
San had half a second to avoid a collision with another guest. He might have blushed if he could, but instead opted for quick bow and apology before he made his escape from that interaction. He could, theoretically, attempt to find his supposed best friend and his partner and stick close with them. It would provide him with someone familiar to look at.
His confidence had fallen apart the moment they’d exited the limo. A fickle thing, bravado. A glass was passed to him by one of the wait staff and he accepted eagerly. Downed in one go and set back on another tray before he was on to the next. The liquid sat in his stomach, brewed there to provide with some more courage. It carried him aimlessly around the foyer, into the banquet hall. He found Wooyoung with Yunho draped over him, a grin split his face. At least those two were enjoying themselves. Wooyoung thrived in places like this; San...not so much.
A throat cleared and silence fell. The scattered cliques turned to the head of the banquet table. He hadn’t paid attention to it before, but there was a display — there was always a display. He’d been warned of such the first time Wooyoung had taken him to something like this. A high-risk event for a high reward. Yunho would lose something, but in return Wooyoung would leave him something lasting. San wasn’t sure where he fit into this particular occasion, but he’d figure it out. Maybe.
His eyes trailed the line of bodies propped up on the table. How much money had they been worth? Fresh; he could hear the faint moans as they came to. Watched one or two jerked wildly about on the table. Quickened heartbeats filled the room and he was sure that he wasn’t the only one practically salivating. Human blood was a delicacy, usually served cold thanks to sanctions from the High Council. Lukewarm, if one was desperate enough to get close to that taste. But fresh, straight for the vein — borderline illegal. Unless you had the kind of money the host of this particular gathering had.
Unless you were Park Seonghwa.
The vampire in question turned to his party with arms spread wide and a lump formed in San’s throat. No one, vampire or otherwise, had any right to look that good. Clad in all back — a hint of something mesh — with straps intricate and showing the right amount of skin, he tipped his head to the side. Black hair perfectly styled and gold accents in every last accessory. San wondered if it were possible to hate someone so much for their wealth.
“Thank you all for coming.” Even his voice was rich, warm. Inviting. Maybe he hadn’t paid for these humans; maybe they’d walked right in of their own accord. “I know we’re all quite eager to dine tonight, so I would assure you that this speech shan’t be long. Heavens above forgive me, should I think to delay a ravenous bunch such as yourselves.” A smirk twisted his perfect lips up and envy clawed at San’s insides anew.
To have money was to eat without fear of regulation. San’s gaze darted to Wooyoung, the telltale crack of his glass carried over to him. Hushed by Yunho, placated by sweet words that he probably meant. Yunho was kind; that made him easy. He turned his attention back to their host, took another sip of his drink. He stopped paying attention, though, to the words and thought instead of the meal ahead of them.
San never had faced problems with his charisma. It had served him when he was human and it served him when he transcended that line between life and death. Hongjoong had told he’d cracked a joke on his metaphorical death bed (an alley, crammed into a dumpster) and that had convinced the vampire to turn him. He grinned and laughed now, just short of a cackle but not like Wooyoung’s, when a voice sounded behind him.
“I thought sapphire went out of style last century.”
San froze, listened to the chorus of laughter that sounded around him. He could turn around and say something he would regret, or he could just roll with it. Fear of the consequences chose for him.
“I’ve been told it’s the only color I’ll ever be suited to.” He turned, then. Grin wide, one he hoped reached his eye. Seonghwa’s brows rose and he couldn’t tell if it was amused or impressed. He hoped it to be a mixture of the two.
The other vampire regarded him openly. Sized him up as he had been one of the humans they’d sank their teeth into not even an hour before. The host reached up and San flinched, earned himself a chuckle. There was the amusement. “You’ve something on your chin.” He swiped away at something — the tang of metal hit his nose as the other drew his thumb back. San could try, but he would likely never leave his messy eating habits behind. Hongjoong and Wooyoung had always claimed it was endearing and held its own charm.
San felt like he was being weighed down. His still heart might have moved with the force of his anxiety. “O-oh. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” The smile was obviously meant to dazzle. Maybe even frighten. The peek of canines too long pressed down against a full bottom lip. “Park Seonghwa.”
“Choi San.” San grinned himself. The best he could do was play it cool. “I dare say that gold might be the color for you.”
“I can think of a few other colors I could show you.”
The gazes that had been drawn to him before — with curiosity at the new face, maybe an inkling of interest beyond that — were on him now full force. He was being too conspicuous. But, how was he to know that he’d draw the attention of the host himself. A vampire eons older, and far wealthier. There were murmurs that he had a shot of being on the council— had asked him to join — but that Seonghwa had rejected it.
And here that same Seonghwa stood with a smile on his face and amusement in his gaze trained on San. The eyes of the other party-goers would surely remain fixed on him for the rest of the evening. He ducked his head, tried to feign a sheepish grin around the terror that arose. “Is that so?”
“Certainly. I do think that streak and the eyepatch match quite well. They set off the rest of the outfit.” Seonghwa shrugged — San could hear the fabric glide over his skin with the action. “I had time to learn the principles of fashion. I tend to get bored often.” Another shrug; a subtle gesture made loud by heightened senses.
“I can only imagine.” Yes; he could only imagine. Beyond a life of a slow climb from the bottom of the barrel of leeches to something stable — San couldn’t hope for much. Maybe he’d make it another handful of decades. The place where his heart was supposed to beat ached, as did his eye. “What else do you do to occupy your time?”
He looked up then, and he somewhat regretted that he had. Somewhat. The open look of predation on the other’s face sent chills down his spine. Like a cat that had happened upon the juiciest specimen.
“I could certainly show you.” San swallowed. “But we can do that later. Come; let me show you around.”
Seonghwa didn’t parade him around, per say. It was as if he’d invited a lonely student to come sit with the cool kids. Not quite a charity case, but not quite accepted by all they met with. There were those who seemed intrigued, and those just short of outraged that they hadn’t been invited to walk about with Seonghwa. He found, though, that their expressions and voices faded out when Seonghwa would put an arm around him.
San didn’t know when, but he’d hyperfocused on each minuscule touch. A finger rubbed circles into the small of his back, as if to soothe his frayed nerves. A hand pulled at his hip to draw him closer, pressed the two together as Seonghwa just barely chuckled at a tried and tired joke spouted off by another old vampire.
Seonghwa sighed, drew San back into the present. The host had claimed that he would show the younger vampire a collection of some sort; he hadn’t really been listening to that bit. Too preoccupied by the low hum of Seonghwa’s voice by his ear. The two of them were in what looked like a gallery. Fine art — both morbid and fanstastical — lined the walls. The frames even, he noted, were gold. The room plunged into a low light with the snap of the vampire’s fingers.
The older vampire stalked closer, and there it was again. The predatory stare that had shaken him before. He’d seen Hongjoong and Wooyoung alike wear it whenever they were out and found the right mark. Wooyoung’s had been more subdued, lined with something akin to lust, but Seonghwa’s could not be touched by Hongjoong’s. He felt ever last bit of bravado crumble and his knees knocked together as Seonghwa entered his space.
His back hit the wall and he was left with nowhere to go as Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa— smothered all else.
“You asked me before what I did to occupy my time.” If his voice had been inviting before, it was as if the devil himself spoke to him. He flinched as the other lifted a glass to him, offered with another raise of his brow and a smirk. San wanted to kick himself. “I suspect you already know a little bit about it.”
You don’t walk into a battlefield unprepared. San had been taught that well enough. “Yes.” There was no use for resistance now. Preparation had not changed his nerves, though. “I, uh, looked into you when I heard Yunho had invited me.”
“Oh, Yunho? Was that how you got in?”
“Yes?” Seonghwa turned to him, head cocked to the side as it had been when he’d first met him.
The elder vampire crossed his legs as he leaned back against a display case. “I would have thought Hongjoong had told you to come in his stead.”
“How did you—”
“I can smell him on you. You stick close to your sire.” Seonghwa smiled, stared San down over the lip of his glass. “How charming.”
San tapped his fingers against his glass, chuckled nervously before he swallowed again. Swallowed down whatever might have jumped from his mouth without a filter. “I don’t think I would have lasted this long if not for him.” He nodded, more to himself than Seonghwa. “But, how do you know him?”
“We’re old friends, Hongjoong and I.” Seonghwa set his glass down on the floor, beckoned San closer. “Enough of him. Let me have a good look at you.”
San felt himself compelled to obey. A strong desire to please overcame him as his steps carried him forward to the other. He tossed his glass, listened to the shatter of glass and splatter of wine mix with the delighted noise that left Seonghwa at the carelessness of his actions. He wasn’t sure if he could say that Seonghwa was a man of care for material things. That if he’d just acquired all of this to meet a public image of himself’s expectations to keep the leeches of the finest gossip of from prying in.
Hands turned his face, lifted the bands of his eyepatch. The darkness remained when it was uncovered. The flesh around his eye had wilted, rotted. The eye itself was a milky white; he wanted to hide. The perfection, the untouched splendor of vampiracy in its most perfect form stood before San in his more defective state. He wriggled in Seonghwa’s touch, squirmed to attempt to turn his face away and hide cover the damage left by a stray hunter as a reminder that he was far from immortal.
“Hold still.” Seonghwa was patient as he poked and prodded. Turned San’s head to either side until he was satisfied. One hand remained firm on his hip, holding him in place. “I can see why Hongjoong thought to turn you.”
“I thought it was because I was comedic genius.”
“That, too, I assume, but you’re really, very pretty.”
The laugh San let out might as well have been punched out of him. “I could say the same about you.”
“I’ve heard that far too many times this evening, but I’ll accept that from you.”
San hadn’t noticed the gap close, but it did. The words were murmured against his lips, Seonghwa just a breath away. The younger vampire had to tip his head back, pushed up on the balls of his feet to fully reciprocate the kiss. Teeth grazed against his lip, a shudder rippling through him. A soft whine left him when the other pulled back. Surprise stopped him as Seonghwa kissed at his eye, then at the juncture where the flesh could no longer heal and where it did.
“You’re under no obligation to say yes, but wouldn’t you like to occupy my time?”
His answer was how he’d ended up sprawled out on the floor. His pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as Seonghwa worked him open. Patient was a vampire of his age as he slid a fourth finger into San. San’s nails dug into cool marble, marking the surface; that would cost a pretty penny to fix, or even replace. The marble reflected his more than debauched state, and Seonghwa hadn’t even properly fucked him yet. Drool slid down his chin to pool under his cheek, breath fogging up the tiles beneath him. He canted his hips back to meet Seonghwa’s fingers, effectively fucking himself back on them. The other’s free hand had wrapped around the base of his cock, held his climax hostage around the third finger some moments ago as he found his prostate.
“You young ones sure are impatient.” His voice drifted boredly around San. “I can only imagine had Hongjoong tolerates you two.”
He mashed his cheek into the marble and willed himself to be stopped. He could be good. Hongjoong had praised him before, and Wooyoung had never been far behind. He could make Seonghwa say he was a good boy; he could. Another loud whine left him as the pads of Seonghwa’s fingers grazed over his prostate. He angled his hips to chase the feeling, primary task forgotten with pleasure coursing through him.
“Listen to you.” Seonghwa hadn’t stopped talking. Whatever god there was above, it was a cruel one. The sound of the other’s voice only made his slow progression that much more torturous. Velvet voice above him, skillful fingers in him. Cruel.
San stilled, body tensed as another orgasm hit him dry. His cock twitched, wept a single tear at the loss when Seonghwa gripped him tight. “Please.” His voice cracked around the word. A sapphire earring swung up toward his cheek and he was staring up at the ceiling.
“I think I might be willing to give in, since you’ve been such a good boy.” He felt his toes curl at those two simple words, the reaction far from missed by Seonghwa. “You like when I call you that? You like being a good boy for me?”
San nodded eagerly, pleasure-dumb and unable to find the words to respond beyond a mangled, “Yes.”
He would put it down on his list of things he liked since his turn to kissing Seonghwa. Moved it up to the top of the list while his mind was still focused on the pleasure of it. The breathlessness of sex amplified as Seonghwa lifted his lips and he felt the other’s cock against his hungrily waiting hole. He could, for the moment, overlook that comment of being stunning to debate at a later time when the other was lining himself up.
Seonghwa handled him carefully as if he were a doll. The other had little problems with maneuvering him much the same, hands gripped at San’s hips to hold him in place as his cock slid home. Comparisons flew from his mind like birds scattered from seed. There was nothing quite like the sensation of being fucked by Park Seonghwa.
His thrusts were shallow at first, testing the tightness of San’s body. Slicked by the marvelous suggestion of the wine they’d been drinking — because spit would surely dry too fast and Seonghwa seemed pleased enough by the idea — the older vampire was able to seat himself deep into San. Rewarded both with a too snug feeling that made San’s head swim. He rocked his hips back to meet the other’s thrusts, ass slapped against hip. The sound of flesh on flesh filled the gallery and he heard Seonghwa moan something about art.
“If only I could take pictures of you now.” San let out a particularly filthy moan, head knocked back into the floor. “Or maybe a video would be more appropriate.”
Seonghwa leaned over him, placed his wandering hands to hold up his shirt. San’s pants had been discarded quickly, lost somewhere in the room. His cocked bounced against his abdomen, leaving wet kisses against his skin. Seonghwa dragged his hands in the mess he was making of himself, smeared it over his skin.
It might not have meant to have the effect on San that it did, but it did. His back arched and Seonghwa hit his prostate at just the right angle — he was seeing stars. The other wrapped his hands around his cock and stroked as ropes of his own cum splattered against his chest. He milked the other through his climax, praises on his tongue.
But Seonghwa had yet to be satisfied. San glanced up at the other as his hips rocked into him more readily. Not a hair out of place; perfection. San figured he might look quite the opposite. His back stung and his hole clenched around Seonghwa as the other lifted him further, nearly folding the younger over himself. A groan, strangled and bordering on a growl, left Seonghwa.
“God, look at you.” San whimpered, arms splayed out helplessly. The younger vampire squirmed, attempted to move away from the overstimulation as Seonghwa chased his own orgasm. “Hold still, pretty.” Another whine, but San complied.
He rolled his hips to meet the other, thrusts turning erratic, less precise. Soon he felt a warmth filling him as Seonghwa stilled above him. The older loomed over him, pressed kisses into his skin. His fingers looped with San’s, a grin on his lips that he could feel against his skin.
“I do so think you could occupy my time quite well.”
Maybe he would make kissing Seonghwa his favorite thing to do in general.