Actions

Work Header

Dead Leaves

Chapter Text

"Again." Jimin barely hears the demand over the constant thrum of his heart in his ears. Yet, he can sense the urgency behind every syllable. It's not as if he doesn't care about perfecting this. There wasn’t a part of him that questioned his desire to excel at the task before him. He is very aware of how much of his future depends on him getting this right, but from where he is laying, legs practically numb and body shaking with a tingly sort of pain, he wants nothing more than to give in to the want to sleep.

"Jimin. Again." He should feel ridiculous ignoring the voice of a superior while spread out on the wooden floor like this. Bearing a resemblance to a child throwing a silent temper tantrum. Though, he doesn’t really feel anything other than heaviness and drops of sweat still beading down every inch of his skin. His breath leaving and entering his lungs in rapid progression. Eyes refusing to open back up in fear of having to take in the bright lights above him. It has been too many minutes too long for his own good, so he takes small attempts to get back to standing.

He starts by wiggling his toes. It's almost comical to test if he still has feet to move, but he can't help it. If they were still attached it could've fooled him. Once he has moved from toes to a few rolls of his ankles, he shifts his focus to his fingers and hands. He follows the same pattern and eventually he is able to push himself up to a position that barely passes as sitting.

His eyes have finally settled their debate and have agreed that it was half open or not open at all. He wishes they had decided on closed. The wall entirely made up of a single mirror shows him he doesn't look much better than he feels. The fabric of his shirt and shorts are much darker than they were before he started, making his flushed pale skin stand out more than usual. The gleam he gets from the lights doesn't help hide his perspiration either. The amount of sweat enough to help hold his dark hair in the many directions it has been tossed and pushed into. Somewhere in his mind he hears something along the lines of he looks better than if he had just had sex.

"Jimin, quit checking yourself out and let's do this." This voice is softer than the other and Jimin swears Taemin is a mind reader.

All sense of self confidence vanishes when he looks to the right of him in the mirror. Taemin has always looked gorgeous like this. The skin pulled tight over the muscles of his ribs and arms, which he keeps on full display in the self-made tank top adorning his torso. Jimin doesn't like to admit how jealous he is of the beads of sweat that get to touch every inch of him. After all, friends don't really think of trailing their lips over the others stomach. Not exactly platonic.

Then again, he doesn't think they ever really have been. Not when a couple drinks were involved or after a long week. This look of Taemin’s is distractingly close to the blurry memories Jimin has, but he knows all that's missing are a few marks on his neck and swollen lips to be identical to them. Jimin looks back at his own face and can point out every way that he doesn't deserve much more, let alone what he has, from the man standing next to him. He can't quite explain how he even got to this point with Taemin, but he will take what he's given until Taemin realizes he deserves better and leaves.

Jimin knows his chubby cheeks and too big lips aren't exactly ideal. He could have a better jawline and his body could be toned more. His nose could be smaller. The list goes on and continually gets bigger. He's been adding new items every year since he was several feet shorter and worried about getting cooties. Since other boys called him words like ‘homo’ and sent him home with mixture of tears and blood on his face. If only the pudgy kid being pushed down on the playground knew where this Jimin is now. How much he has and will keep pushing through to get to this moment. Younger Jimin would want to know he can push through this fatigue to do this one more time for today. One more time done well and he is free.

However, standing up is a treat. His legs are wobbly as he pushes onto them his face almost meets the floor, but thankfully his hands don't let the interaction occur. Taemin catches the near incident though and chuckles at Jimin’s expense anyway. Of course he did. It's not like his eyes leave Jimin very much anyway. Jimin can't ever figure out why. There's at least two other guys in this room that could capture the essence of attractiveness better than he could. Whose bodies are fitter than Jimin, legs leaner, faces slimmer, stomachs tighter. All around better fucks than Jimin ever has been. His eyes meet Taemin's dark ones in the mirror every time though. Can feel them on him now as he stretches his muscles.

"Welcome back to the group, Jimin. Ready to go again?" Jimin nods and a string apologies proceeds, falling of his tongue in a quiet, but rapid pace. He knows that he may have been overreacting a bit after that last run through. Falling down and pouting doesn’t ever get you much. On the other hand he isn't sure if his legs could've handled his weight much longer. Makes no difference now, he is back up and, to those around, that means he is ready to go again.

None of the men sitting in the back of the room need to remind those standing that their starting positions need to be resumed. Jimin falls into his spot on the shiny wood floor only just to the right of Taemin. Within seconds of the song beginning he feels more than tells his body to move. He knows people say that after doing something for so long they could do it in there sleep, but Jimin acknowledges this as something he could do even in death. Has been doing since before he could even talk. The movements and pauses come naturally, flowing from inside out to every edge of him.

He follows himself in the mirror, trying to find any error that could happen. Falling out of line with the others, stumbling on the turn he had stayed late on too many nights just to land correctly, and making the wrong faces. Needing to give enough pout and have perfectly timed appearances of breathlessness when he needs to. Breathless is easy. Making it have enough sex appeal is more of an uphill battle, but he deems this time a win.

The song is over before Jimin can even comprehend it is. Too lost in watching himself and letting his muscles work on memory to keep track of where they were in the music. The strong pose he ends in automatically drops to a ragged slump as he attempts to catch his breath. Taemin rests a firm hand on his neck as he congratulates him on his ‘perfect’ turn and now his chest burns for an entirely different reason. To anyone watching it looks like a friendly, reassuring gesture, but Jimin has felt this before. Guiding him into small apartment bedrooms and to hold him in place while patterns are traced into Jimin’s skin with teeth and tongue. The hand normally shifts from there and, if Jimin isn’t careful he might follow the same routine without the hand having to guide him down to his knees. They’re weak at best as it is.

“Alright. Good enough for now. See you all tomorrow.” Jimin doesn’t ever think he could really point out anything of significance about this instructor. He looks just the same as every older man with a mustache, a stern pout and the look of someone whose dreams crashed and burned a long time ago. A sort of resentment in every feature, probably due to this job. Coaching a new wave a talent when they used to be that. Bordering on what you wanted, but it isn't really it. Jimin supposes he'd hate it too.

While the rest of the group stays behind and talks about how well they all think they have done, Jimin feels the hand slip from his neck down the small of his back and there's tiny pin-prick sensations in its residual path. It pushes slightly and he doesn't question his immediate decision to move with it, towards the far wall, where he sees his grey backpack and water set neatly next to Taemin. A subconscious action, but not a surprising one. The hand doesn't leave his body even as he bends down to collect his and Taemin’s belongings. It isn't asked of him. He just likes the wide, appreciative smile he gets in return for doing so.

He might walk through hell to have Taemin look at him like that forever. Goodness knows he's done some less than holy things to put that glint in Taemin’s eyes and the smirk to match on his lips. Jimin is aware how much Taemin loves practices like this. Where Jimin is soaked from sweat alone and adrenalin is the only thing keeping him up straight for just enough time to get him home. Sometimes on days like this they would stay late to practice. And they did. They exercised how long Jimin could handle the unforgiving wooden floor under his hands and knees as Taemin took what he wanted from behind. Jimin can’t be too sure if Taemin got off more on making Jimin see himself or Taemin being able to watch himself in the mirror, but there isn’t a memory of this studio after dark that didn’t end facing any other direction.

However, today isn't one of those days. It’s only Thursday and Jimin is aware that he doesn’t get to leave the role of acquaintance during the work week. He’s heard on too many occasions about needing sleep for a long next day or early mornings for him to want to even press the issue further. He doesn’t like arguing with Taemin anyway. Jimin snaps back to where he is when Taemin removes his hand just long enough to curl his fingers around his wrist. It isn’t a handhold. Then again, it’s never a handhold with him. He can’t even say that he could count out their displays of affection on one hand because Taemin has never given him more than a firm hand placement here or a tight hold there. Guiding him like a dog on a leash. It feels more like being an accessory than a part time lover. Maybe this is just how it is for them. Jimin thinks he can live with it as long as he keeps getting these moments with Taemin.

He hands Taemin his belongings with his free hand and then slips his own onto his shoulder. He doesn’t dare break the eye contact they are trapped in in fear that once he does the moment will be over and Taemin will leave. Taemin always tends to leave first. Except for on the rare times where they fall into Taemin’s bed instead of his own. It’s never been explicitly said, but once Taemin gets up in the morning and enters his shower alone Jimin knows his time being there has come to an end. The mornings he has taken his time in collecting himself enough to make his walk home just a little less shameful usually end in a shocked expression that tells Jimin that he has overstayed his welcome.

There’s the usual conversations between the other dancers about things Jimin couldn’t care much about, but he is thankful for more than just the sound of ruffling backpacks. Makes the ringing in his ears less apparent. The air of silence between them could almost be described as comfortable. It’s mainly clear

“So, Jimin, I’ll see you at tomorrow’s practice, yeah?” It’s a silly question, really. As if Jimin would miss a day of what gives him such happiness. Would miss a day to be surrounded by the people who share the same dream he does. He wishes he was stable enough to voice this out loud, but he always finds himself just a little breathless when his name rolls off Taemin’s tongue.

“Of course, I’m assuming you’ll be here too?” Again, it’s a dumb inquiry. Taemin thrives in this scenery. It would be a trick of the universe to ever deny him a spotlight for this. Jimin has seen every step Taemin has taken on this journey. Has messaged cramped muscles and tended to hurt ankles. He has been in the front row, caring for and cheering on Taemin as he continually strides toward perfecting this art. The small, quick rise and fall of Taemin’s lips synchronized with his chest lets Jimin know he finds the question to be just as ridiculous as he does.

The grip holding him in place is gone just as quickly as the man who is responsible for it. Jimin takes in the view of Taemin walking across the studio and out of the front door and waits a few moments before following suit. No one is around by the time he sets foot on the cement pathway leading out toward the sidewalk. Everyone else either still inside or got out of the area as quickly as possible. Taemin is one of the latter while Jimin finds himself a bit of the former. He may have wanted to rest, but leaving this place is always bittersweet for him. It’s felt like more of a home than most places have ever been to him. The walk home takes longer than it should as he drags his feet the entire walk home. He blames it all on the magnetic pull the studio has on him. Not wanting him to leave and him not wanting to go.

The second out of only three keys on a small, silver loop is the one that matches the deadbolt on Jimin’s front door. The only lock that keeps him and his few belongings safe from the outside world. That and the way the door sticks as you first push forward on it. His right shoulder used to bruise with the force needed to enter his home, but after the years of living here, his body has grown used to the sensation of it all. The light on his porch gave out on him months ago so he uses the glow of the closest street light to guide him up the steps and inside. The lights inside cast a similar yellow glow over the hand-me-down furniture and peeling grey walls.

Jimin walks past his couch while running his hand over the dip in the middle that was a characteristic he overlooked in the purchase of it, but he plays it off as a part of its personality. He does the same when acknowledging the different scuffs and designs in each end table and cabinet holding a candle here and a picture there. There’s not a lot of those though. He wasn’t ever allowed to take much when his parents asked him to leave. He cherishes the ones he has and longs for the ability to see those faces so happy again. Just to see them in person again. However, he doesn’t think he could handle the looks of disappointment that were etched into their lips and skin the last time he walked away from them.

He claims there’s no need to upgrade on choice of television or phone because he is never home or free enough to use such advanced devices to their full purpose. Which is not entirely a lie. Yet, not solely the truth. The less than livable amount of money in his bank account and sad excuse of savings in a glass jar tells the story of a boy who is just passing by. There isn’t ever an amount he earned that didn’t have to be put toward a set of bills. Some nights he can recall drinking glass after glass of water to trick his stomach into thinking it was being filled because water was free and the food he didn’t have wasn’t. Those nights Jimin feels the lowest. That none of this was worth it. Not the three jobs he juggles while mixing dancing on top of it. There isn’t much time to wallow before he is moving onto the next task.

He drops his bag onto the chipped wood of his dining table for two and tosses his empty bottle into the sink next to the other dirty dishes. It’s the only ones he owns though so he knows he’s going to have to bite the bullet and do them soon. Not tonight though. He wants to be clean and then he needs to sleep. He should try and eat, but between the water he gulped on the way home and the tightness in his gut at the reminder of what tomorrow night was certain to bring he isn’t sure he could handle what very little he had to feed himself.

He takes each article of clothing he is wearing on his way to the bathroom, not caring much for the lack of curtains on the small windows along the way to the bathroom. People creepy enough to look through windows this far back on his apartment were going to find a way to see what they wanted to anyway. Not that he really believes anyone ever really wants to watch him anyway. He’s naked before he enters his bathroom and he’s sure he will be annoyed at himself in the morning at the trail of clothes in his wake, but he mentally tells future him to fuck off and that he deserves to not be neat today, he will worry about that Sunday. His day off from everything, but trying to get his shit together before the next week begins.

The knob labeled cold on the left side of his shower is a liar and so isn’t the opposite labelled one on the right. They’re nice enough though, and on most days they won’t get stuck in the off position. Jimin checks to make sure the small window built into the wall above the shower leading to the fence behind his house is open just enough to let out the steam from the water he has running. He steps into a scolding heat that hurts his skin, but loosens his muscles enough to try to work some of the usual and new kinks out of them. He spends more time doing this than cleaning himself and within ten minutes he is back out into the stale air of the rest of his house.

Plugging his phone into the permanently placed charger, he takes a chance to see if he has gotten any messages, and like most other nights there’s not much than a few notifications on media sites he rarely uses from people he’d rather not go out of his way to check on. Rolling from facing his nightstand to his wall he lets his mind run to places he knows he won’t get to. A life where he didn’t matter on just a weekend. Finally making something out of himself. As his mind finishes painting a picture of himself bowing on a stage with Taemin to his left he finally feels himself drift off.

 

----

 

“Jimin. After practice. Bar night.”

He isn’t told what bar he is being requested to attend. He knows exactly which one. It’s a personal favorite of his regular companion. It’s just unheard of enough that they never see anyone else they could know. Just mainstream enough to be a name unquestioned in a list of bars on a group of friends’ agenda that they never end up making it to. It was always so up close and personal. A polar opposite to the person who takes him there. It’s not really a bar at all. The fake name close enough to that of a real bar on the street next to this one to pass off as real to anyone who were to ask where they were headed to on a Friday night. The code phrase is enough to keep wandering eyes in just enough of the dark.

After Jimin received the text from Taemin when he wakes up at 6 am, one he routinely gets on a weekend morning, he feels he is given just enough of a rush to make it through his day. It’s only two jobs instead of three, so it could be worse.

Jimin realizes he is wrong about that after he finds himself being questioned by an older woman if he was ever trained on knowing what “no onions” on her dish meant, immediately following having a quick soup shower from a customer's poorly planned stand up, he thinks he hates waiting on tables more than he could ever hate any other job he has had. More than cleaning out peoples too expensive cars, which he did for the most part of his morning, or selling shoes to people who have no idea what they’re looking for. Jimin finds himself watching the hands on the clock tick more than usual today.

He hates that he still can smell the mixture of broth and vegetables on his skin as he makes his way directly to the studio. He shows up just early enough to not seem too eager, but also have some privacy to change from his white top, tinged red and orange now, and black bottom uniform into his outfit to dance.

The outfit one that differs greatly than the usual. When he used to be asked about it Jimin always claimed he likes to celebrate the end of the week by dressing up just a bit more. To give himself the feeling of wearing what he would to perform the dance onstage. It might’ve made sense to everyone else, make yourself get used to what was inevitably bound to happen in the near future. Or they all are aware of the activities Jimin and Taemin take part in after they leave everyone else behind after Friday’s practices. His black jeans are tighter than most other pairs he owns, ripped in higher and lower places to tease the world with little peaks of skin in more intimate places. His white shirt eventually to be covered in a black, worn leather jacket. It’s a tough job trying to look as if he and Taemin are in the same league.

The practice is just as intense as the night before and Jimin almost wants to tell Taemin that he would rather go home than out to the bar, but weekends are short and letting go of any time he gets to pretend he is Taemin’s is not something he is interested in. He slips on his jacket as soon as he is given the go ahead to leave and Taemin is quick to corner him and once again trap some part of Jimin’s extremities in his firm grasp. Jimin picks this jacket on purpose, knowing how much Taemin loves it on him. Makes him look just a bit smaller, yet rougher than he really is. It makes Taemin happy taking something so dominant looking on the surface and breaking him into the submissive person Jimin has always been. Always will be, especially for someone like Taemin.

He leads Jimin out the side door, into night air, making him hiss at how good the cold feels on his hot skin. He stops quickly at a sleek silver car that Jimin instantly recognizes the backseat of. Their belongings are rapidly tossed into and then is locked up again. They’re moving again before Jimin can think too much about how Taemin plans to get his car back. Jimin knows the direction he's leading him. A beginner will see the direction and assume the final destination is Jimin’s small apartment in a more dodgy part of town. Jimin is an expert though, and knows the small alleyway just a block from his place is where he will find himself. Face and hands pressed against the cool bricks of an abandoned building, pretending to be scared of getting caught. He's learned to like the thrill of it after so many times of finding himself in these situations.

There isn't any talking as Jimin follows behind Taemin, but that’s not new to their situation. It's rare that Taemin finds the need to speak to Jimin before these encounters. It's a mere 20 minutes of walking from where they started and Jimin spots the dark entrance. He starts to feel a new rush of energy take hold. It's a buzzing that spreads from his tightly held wrist to his core. A few steps in and the darkness covers them perfectly. Looking out onto the main street, Jimin grins, knowing that while he can see out, no one can see in. It's a fun game to him. Trying to keep quiet as he watches while people stroll by, completely oblivious to the two men. Jimin knows Taemin gets off on it too. Likes trying new ways to get Jimin to be just a little too loud, almost like he wants them to get caught.

It's a second of obliviousness that gives Taemin his chance. Jimin’s back hits the wall with enough force to send any air he had out of his mouth in a gasp. A noise he would make regardless, since Taemin takes this moment of shock to press his knee between Jimin’s legs and his lips against the joint of Jimin’s neck and shoulder. Jimin’s mouth hangs open while his wrists are pressed together in a pseudo bound position above his head. He feels trapped, but safe in this spot. Taemin would never lush Jimin beyond what he is comfortable with.

The dual sensation of cold on his back and a warm body against his front does things for him he doesn't think he can ever explain. Makes the coil in his stomach just a bit tighter than if he was lying on soft cotton. It’s probably not something he should be turned on by, but it’s hard to find reason with Taemin’s lips finally connecting with his. He can feel the need off of Taemin in waves, rushing over him and dragging Jimin down with him. He is sick of the teasing. Jimin wines in need. The need to feel full. He tries to give the hint to Taemin without breaking from the taste of mint and cherries by grinding his hips into the knee between them. All he gets is a chuckle in return and Taemin breaking from their kissing, which is more of a punishment than anything for Jimin, to whisper in his ear “Always so desperate for it, aren’t we?”

Jimin thinks he should’ve kept his eyes open. Let himself watch the street opening more. Paid more attention to sounds other than his heart beating and Taemin’s breath. He isn’t even given a chance to think of replying when someone speaks from the dark space behind Taemin. The tone is nowhere near that of threatening, but Jimin can sense the need to retreat. To will his legs from frozen in place to a full sprint. It takes one line from a faceless voice to send him into full panic mode, “Always such a needy bitch for it, aren’t you?”

Brown eyes force themselves open wide to try and find the fly on their wall. To give a face to its uninvited source. The taunting tone makes his stomach churn as he tries to digest the words paired with it. It takes him back to a time he would much rather forget. He recognizes that it’s not real, but he swears he can faintly smell the freshly cut grass of the schools front yard. Can feel the soft heat of a late spring day’s sun. The one under which he took the hand of a boy he thought was his friend. Thought might be more than that. Where he followed him out to a tree that he wished now would burn to the ground. When soft hands caressing his cheek turned to a feel for the best place to land a right hook. The rest of the boys appeared from out behind the bricks of the school building. Out of nowhere. Just like this presence had done now. The feeling of dread still stings in the same way it did back then.

“Excuse me?” Taemin’s body turns and forms a wall between the black void and Jimin’s slightly shorter body. Jimin finds it to be somewhat worthless. It isn’t likely that this guy is picking this fight alone. If, by chance, he is, Jimin thinks that they’re either crazy enough to be able to kill them both, have a weapon, or reveled only bulldozers in strength. There isn’t a scenario in Jimin’s mind where he sees them leaving this alley in any state of okay. Jimin wants to appreciate this new side of Taemin. This protectiveness he suddenly has over him, but it’s hard to when his heart has sped up so much. Jimin internally tries to will Taemin to just drop it, cut their losses and duck out of the alley while they can, but that’s not really how Taemin works. “I’d watch your mouth if I were you. Saying shit about people you don’t know like that.”

There’s nothing funny in the statement Taemin spat out into the space before him, so the laughter that follows is all the more unnerving to Jimin. It makes his body shiver in a way the cold brick behind him never could. Jimin can’t wait to never have to hear it again. The light chuckling that has filled the empty gaps around the couple continues longer than Jimin deems worthy when it abruptly ends. The silence is worse. Jimin hasn’t ever been the type to need to be right, and once he gains his reply he prays that he never is right again. “Who says we don’t?”

The use of ‘ we ’ and not just ‘I’ is all it takes to confirm the variables for the situation at hand. There are more than one of this creep out there looking in on them and Jimin’s throat tightens more than he physically thought possible. He feels like he is gasping for with every breath and the more he fights to keep it quiet the louder his struggle becomes. There’s something embarrassing about your body giving up before anything bad has even happened yet. Taemin doesn’t move from his tense position in front of him and the only proof that the response had an affect him is by his silence. Not sure of which of the translations he should take as what this person had meant. Jimin’s list of friends is a small one and his list of enemies is the same, if he has any at all. That kind of life takes socializing with people and Jimin has never been the type to be good at that. Even at his jobs he mostly kept his head down and lips sealed. If he has met this person before, it isn’t a voice he can recall from any remarkable interactions he has ever had in this city.

In their peripheral a figure can be seen entering the alley’s main light source, stopping a few feet inside the entranceway. Jimin faintly sees a look of confusion on a younger man’s face and he grasps onto a new strand of hope. He gasps out a jumble of words that he hopes the stranger can piece together as a cry for help. Taemin barely gives the new comer a glance as he keeps his eyes locked on the first intruder.

Strands are dangerous things to hold onto so tightly and Jimin’s hope snaps as the potential hero’s scrunched eyebrows melt into a calm, slightly amused position. A tight lipped smirk appearing as he took a few steps closer, his head turning from left to right in an way that mimicked an attempt to soothe. Any fleeting thoughts of Jimin escaping with or without Taemin are fading fast before him. The safety he felt moments ago being between a body and the wall are gone. It’s the sensation of being trapped that, if it wasn’t there before, it is entirely present now.

“Want to explain to me what you’re talking about?” Taemin’s voice has dropped enough octaves to almost rival the sound of a growl. It’s a sound that Jimin hasn’t ever heard from him before. Under different circumstances he might like hearing that, one like what he thought tonight was going to be like. Covered in sweat and pleading for something more to help him get off. Begging for something other than his life. He might not be at that point yet and he never was good at statistics, but it seemed to be the way this would be playing out.

The face that appeared from within the pitch black before them was far younger than he pictured it being. Shapes and curves of the jaw and nose too soft. Too smooth and kind looking. His skin seeming to glow in the light, a touch too pale for anyone healthy. Jimin guesses he could just be some junky with just as wacked out friend mugging people for the funds for a fix, but the air about him told Jimin this isn’t the case. Too lucid and calm to be in this desperate of a need for a hit. Jimin scans the entirety of him. Noting clothes in a price range he can only dream of being able to afford. An upscale library a more suitable setting for him than a dead end in rough neighborhood. Jimin does his best to swallow, saliva thicker than he remembers it being before. He stomach turns sharply, he hates admitting that he finds this man is attractive.

Jimin is forced to bring himself to what is happening around him and he is disgusted knowing that he got lost in staring at the man before him. He can’t find a reason why, but there is just something about him that makes it hard to concentrate. The air flowing in and out of him easily once again. The vice grip that was weighing down on his chest gone without any reason to feel peaceful again. Jimin wonders if the same has happened to Taemin as well. His shoulders slumping forward as he drops his arms to his sides. Jimin didn’t notice the lack of response until now, and he figures whatever state of mind Taemin has entered that he doesn’t care for one.

Jimin thinks he is supposed to be scared as he watches the scene unfold. He should try to stretch his arms out and try to catch Taemin as he sinks to his knees. There’s a wave of some emotion that rolls its wave through him, but it’s not strong enough to pull him into any sort of action. He just stands there, with Taemin kneeling at his feet and two out of three sets of eyes on him. The voice from his right, the one blocking them in now feels like it’s all around him. As it explains that the other needs to learn to stop wasting time. That it isn’t proper to play with their food like this. Once again the emotion from before flares up, but is immediately put out. It’s replaced by a gentle static pulse that doesn’t really start or end anywhere in specific, just a steady pattern lulling him out of feeling anything other than numb.

Food? Did they say something about food? Each solid thought that Jimin forms immediately dissolves with each beat coursing through him. Pushing himself harder to get obtain some sort of focus on the world around him seems to only be making it worse. The static intensifying with each attempt at grounding into reality. The talking around him seems to be muffled by layers of drywall and insulation, even though he is standing mere few away from it. The second man has moved from the entrance to a position Jimin deems a little too close to be casual, but then again he doesn’t really have a place to critique behavior right now. He is torn between keeping his eyes on Taemin’s kneeling form or on the lips of the man before him. He wants to know what they are saying, but he also knows he needs to make sure Taemin is okay.

Jimin doesn’t get much longer to make a decision because suddenly he can hear the next words as clear as if they are shouted into his ear, “Okay, Kookie, remember what we practiced, we need them both. Understood?” There isn’t another sound after this, but the slight nod seems to be enough of a confirmation for the stranger to the right of Jimin.

The man directly across from Jimin smiles excitedly, showing a set of bright white teeth. ‘Kookie’s’ dark eyes don’t leave Jimin as he quirks his head to the right a bit and then slowly returns it to a level position. The steps taken to land directly in front of Taemin aren’t taken in haste and if Jimin didn’t know any better it almost seems like this ‘Kookie’ was mocking him and his clear inability to do anything but look back at him. He couldn’t rush forward to help Taemin, even if he could bring himself to want to. Even as his slim frame drops slowly to become face to face with Taemin his eyes never break from Jimin’s. There is no trigger for an internal or external response to what is said next, “it’s okay, slut, you’ll make it through this.”

Before Jimin can even tense a muscle  ‘Kookie’ lunges toward Taemin, hand pulling his hair hard enough to the right side that his head is forced to stay in that position. The only visible part of ‘Kookie’ left is the tufts of black hair as the rest of his face is buried into the area between Taemin’s jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t want to admit what he thinks is happening, but if the sharp intake of breath and slow hiss that passes through Taemin’s lips are anything to go by Jimin swears that this crazy man just bit into Taemin’s neck. He expects screaming to follow. Crying or gasping. Maybe even quiet begging. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the long moan that takes up the empty space.

Jimin burrows his eyebrows together as best as he can with how tired his body become. The tingly sensation cocooning him has become overwhelming. Loosening his muscles to a point where, against his will, he too feels like he can no longer hold himself upright anymore. The fight is short and Jimin is declared the loser as he drops to his knees, nowhere near as graceful as Taemin had. Jimin shifts his gaze to the other man now making his way to him, his neck refusing to move with him. This man says nothing to him as he lowers himself to the ground next to Jimin. The hand that smooths over his cheek is something that he wants to flinch away from, but, as it has been doing, his body continues to ignore his mind. The hand traces the skin of his neck a few times in slow, up and down movements. As quickly as his partner had moved, the hand has a tight grip on the scruff of his neck, twisting his head just enough to the left as needed to gain access to the sensitive flesh of his neck. Kind of ironic in a way that something that once brought him such bliss before might now cause him so much pain in a slow death.

Jimin wishes he had the voice to tell Taemin goodbye. The first thing he feels is a searing hot pain as teeth tear through flesh and muscle. The whimper that leaves him is a remarkable feat for him, since every other attempt at making a noise wasn’t successful for him. There’s no need to hope he goes numb to the pain soon, because as soon as it is there, it’s gone. There isn’t a chance to stop the moan he lets slip as an intense flood of pleasure washes over him. There is no comparison to the waves of bliss wash over him with every gulp the man latched onto him takes. Somewhere he wonders if he is dreaming. Thinks there every piece of knowledge he has about blood suckers never said this would feel as good as it does. The world around him blurs and Jimin can’t find himself to be afraid of the way his eyelids are starting to close on their own. The last thing he sees before he lets sleep take him is Taemin’s slack body drop to the dirt covered ground as ‘Kookie’ wipes his lips against his black sleeves and begins to stand back up.

Chapter Text

Taehyung feels the tight kinks threaded through his neck and shoulders. The tension increasing the longer they are forced to wait. The dim lights above almost too bright, encouraging the pressure on his temples to worsen. The drop offs always seem to take longer than the hunt itself. Too many people to report to, too many papers to sign.

It doesn’t make sense to keep so much documentation on these now missing humans, seems too risky to have such incriminating articles on them. However, it’s not really his job to question the system. His pay grade is just a step lower. Training and taking is his game, not supplying reasoning and fixing problems. Ones like they caused tonight.

He knows he has to inform the others of the mistakes made during this nights gathering, but his gut is telling him to confront Kookie alone before writing him up. Thinks he would respect that more. He recognizes that he shouldn’t care what the student thinks of their teacher. Jungkook should do what is asked of him without question. Always. It’s how Taehyung was trained many decades ago, but that doesn’t mean he abides to this idea.

Tae believes that the respect should flow both ways. His side to the debate is simple, who would ever retain something from someone they don’t care enough to listen to. It’s not anything remotely biased for him. He never holds Jungkook to different standards than anyone else he has ever trained. Taehyung holds this type of relationship with all of his students.

It’s helpful that this is the first slip up that Jungkook has made, means there’s no real lasting punishment this time. Any more tallies, though, and Taehyung is all too aware of what happens to those who can’t learn to control themselves. Sometimes it’s torture in the form of starvation or some other less than tasteful methods. Death, however, is always what’s found to be most suitable.

Tae’s been very fortunate. Has only ever lost three trainees throughout his time in this position, but others aren’t so lucky. Kai loses one every other training season and if Taehyung were to make assumptions he would pin it on Kai’s overly eager and aggressive behavior. They see it in him and are taught that it is okay.

It is far from acceptable behavior. It leads to recklessness and that is a weakness for all of them. None of this means he doesn’t like Kai, Tae’s just surprised he made it to this rank with him. He doubts that he will rise again with Kai at his side.

Tae doesn’t need to look to know where Jungkook has placed himself just behind his right shoulder. A quick glance here and there lets Taehyung see that he is trying his best to look as if he doesn’t care. His face is blank, almost to the point of appearing calm. Which Tae could almost believe to be the truth, after all, Kookie is a great bluffer.

Every player has a tell, though. A sign that there’s an undesirable truth hidden behind the hand crafted scenery. Jungkook’s is easy. He can’t meet Taehyung’s eyes.

On any other given day he can capture them easily. Jungkook is a good student, which means he is always watching to make sure that when the time comes every movement Taehyung makes can be replicated with ease. To make sure he stands appropriately and speaks to his superiors correctly. It’s all a science really. Each gesture and position designed specifically to show to utmost respect to those around them. It’s easier to not fuck up in the future if you pay attention now.

Even in a situation like this, where they’re in the presence of those considered peers to them, Jungkook would be keeping his attention on Taehyung. Whether out of habit or interest he can’t really be sure. Tae can’t help but wish he would look at him now, at least in this line he could silently warn him about what was to come. Then again ‘warn’ doesn’t fully cover what he wants to say to Jungkook.

There isn’t much you can do to prepare anyone for what they could do to him. Not even Taehyung could know what they might choose to punish him with. He just hopes whatever it is it’s at least effective. He doesn’t like to see his trainees in pain and, to be honest, he would much rather take the punishment himself, but at least if it works then Jungkook will still be alive. Not laying in a lifeless heap on the floor. The first three dug at his heart too much, he doesn’t want to try and stomach a fourth.

Taehyung is all too aware that nothing has changed in the process of teaching new gatherers. The physical endurance training almost nothing compared to the psychological tests. Combine the two and it almost felt lethal. The aching muscles paired with endless migraines are enough to make anyone second guess the career path they were put on.

He remembers the intense nausea and vomiting that consumed him after every session. Is too intimately familiar with the sight of Jungkook hunched over the side of a toilet. The sound of muffled tears as he gagged and choked out the contents of his stomach pressed into Taehyung’s brain like grooves on vinyl, playing on loop in his darkest nightmares.

The beginning is a perfectly set trap. Luring the young, naive members of society in with a few meetings that feel like a college lecture. The rules written neatly on a board behind an older looking man who read through them with as much disinterest as the rest of the room was showing them.

In a setting like that it’s easy to think you won’t ever need them. A place where you’re safely tucked inside four walls instead of out in the real world. Taehyung remembers feeling it himself, could see it in Jungkook’s face as he stood in and watched a meeting after being promoted. Untouchable is a good word for it.

Taehyung can pinpoint the exact moment each trainee loses every ounce of cockiness they had walking into training. Each as unique as the person who experiences it. His in the form of his first fight training. When he was gasping for air and clawing at the arm wrapped around his neck, blood and spit mixing and falling freely from the gash on his cheek and his split open lips. When he thought he was going to die before even making it to a real gathering.

Tae used to believe Jungkook’s was during his training too, but considering all that has happened. He thinks this might actually be it. Maybe not in this line or when they are sent to report to Min-sunbae. There was just something in the air that carried the notion that today was the day. This is when they would finally break the last wall of arrogance Jungkook had left.

There’s a shuffling of papers somewhere in front of them and Taehyung forces himself to stop wasting the small amount of time they have left. The entirety of their trip back spent with Taehyung trying to pick the words that might even slightly help the situation. He still hasn't found them, but it's now or never.

“Jungkook,” his voice is low, but firm. He doesn't want to seem nervous because that would surely send Jungkook over whatever edge he was close to.

There's a slight hum indicating Jungkook is listening, but he still keeps his gaze on the dark cement below them. Taehyung doesn't like that. He wants Jungkook's eyes on him. Wants him to see that he isn't mad at him, that he's not disappointed.

“Jungkook, look at me,” it takes a moment before he complies with Taehyung’s soft demand. He couldn't disrespect Taehyung in such a public space.

Once his eyes find their way to Taehyung’s and they stay there he continues his thought, “I know you are aware you messed up tonight.”

The pout that forms on Kookies lips is just noticeable enough in the dark lighting. Tae should tell him to knock it off, to own up to his mistake with a mature attitude, but he can't bring himself to. He doesn't exactly hate seeing Kookies plump lips poking out like that.

There's a sound of a pen scratching paper before them and Taehyung swallows thickly, pushing any thoughts out immediately, “Jungkook what you did was unacceptable. I cannot stop what they plan to do. They won't kill you yet, this is a lesson that neither of us can stop. You are strong, you can take it.”

The “I'm sorry” goes without being said, it's in the way Taehyung places his hand on Jungkook's arm and squeezes lightly. It's in his gaze as it softens just slightly before the man before them gathers his things and scurries down the hallway, past the room where they were told to place the boy they brought in earlier this evening.

Taehyung turns toward the desk and gets as close as he deems necessary for the conversation he is about to have. The man behind the desk is fiddling with something on his computer before he turns his attention back to them. The smile is as fake as the watch he is wearing.

“Good evening, Taehyung, dropping off two, if I remember correctly?” There's no real indication in his tone that hints this man is even slightly happy with seeing him. More indifferent than anything.

Tae can't really complain. It's not really as if he's over the moon to see this man too. He sees this man at every drop off and doesn't even think he remembers the man's name. So, in theory, this man has the advantage. At least he knows who Tae is.

The next part is never easy for Tae to admit. He takes pride in successful gatherings and this slip up represents Jungkook’s, as well as his own, skills. “No, just one tonight.”

“The paperwork says there should be two.”

It's not a question and the boys know he already has a vague outline of what happened already etched into his mind.

The man clicks his tongue a few times and lifts a hand up to rub it through his slick black hair. His lips form a tight scowl before he reaches for the phone at the corner of his desk, plucking it up roughly and bringing it up to his ear. It stays squished between his cheek and shoulder as he dials on the small pad of numbers.

“I'm sure you know this is unacceptable from you both. Take the last elevator at the end of the hall. Taehyung, you might remember the way. You must report directly to Min-sunbae.”

 

---

 

Taehyung follows the demand after handing over a manila folder containing the information required on each recruit gathered to the man at the desk. He hears Jungkook's feet attempt to keep up with the intense pace Tae has established. He knew they would need to report to Min, but hearing the words made his heart rate pick up.

There was no part of Min Yoongi that didn't scare Taehyung. There was never a time you knew what he was thinking or what he might do. He isn't a sporadic leader. No. He just continuously found new and improved methods of keeping each one of his workers in place.

Taehyung is sure that his superior only needed a minute alone with someone to be able to pinpoint all the ways he could take and break that person. To mold them into a perfect cog on his well oiled machine. His eyes always cold and distant, his face never changing from it's normal stoic position.

It's easy to say that Taehyung is terrified of what Min might decide as suitable as punishment for Jungkook. He hopes no one notices the tremor in his hand as he presses the button to call for the elevator.

It's there way too soon for his liking and before he knows it he's standing and staring at the single lit button on the wall before him. Willing his nerves to calm down enough to give Jungkook some sort of reassuring look. He knows all that he would see now, though, is fear.

Min Yoongi's office resides on the top floor of the building. The only floor with only one functioning office. It's well known that he prefers the seclusion, even at work.

Even being above ground now the hall lights give just as much light as they did in the basement. The charcoal painted walls and black carpeted floors don't help visitors much in their search for the right office. Taehyung may have only been in here a few times, but it was enough to permanently etch the path they needed to take into his memory forever.

His thoughts wander as they walk. They make him wish Jungkook is only ever up here this one time. He doesn't want him to be able to bring himself or anyone else up, through the few halls, and to the last, black door at the end of it all. He doesn't want him to remember to wait several moments after they knock for Min to call them in

He doesn't  like seeing Jungkook stand next to him at the mahogany desk like they are now. He doesn't like that he copies the bow Taehyung makes as he faces their boss. Mostly, he hates the way Jungkook's head stays hanging forward, eyes stuck wide open with fear.

“I've just received a phone call. Seems there was a problem with tonight's hunt,” Min doesn't lift his gaze from the paperwork in front of him, “we were supposed to receive two recruits, and we only have one.”

It's a sudden shift from this calm, casual demeanor to the sharp glare and accusatory tone, “want to tell me exactly what happened tonight?”

“Min-sunbae, we-” Taehyung doesn't get much out when Min silences him with a quick wave of his hand.

“Not from you, Taehyung. From the boy who made the mistake. I want to hear it from him.”

Jungkook's head snaps back up, mouth opening and closing a few times before he gulps and tries to gather his thoughts. It seems to be a few minutes too long for Min as he sighs loudly and throws his own down on the desk. Jungkook’s small jump isn't mentioned, but Taehyung swears he sees a small smirk on Min’s face. As if he likes the fear he instills in others.

“Any time now, Jeon Jungkook, the faster we get this done the faster we can move past it.”

Taehyung notices he doesn't mention any correction. It's a sick sort of false hope for those who don't know any better. Jungkook shouldn't be one of those people.

Jungkook steadies himself one last time before he starts speaking, probably to keep himself from stuttering over any words. Taehyung makes a mental checklist to use to make sure Jungkook doesn't leave anything out.

It's all pretty mundane information about tracking and collecting at first. Figuring out their schedules and picking the perfect time to gather. Then it gets to the events that happened earlier tonight, “we followed from a distance until they stopped at their usual spot, the alley located a few blocks from Park Jimin’s apartment.”

“Park Jimin is listed as being a successful gather. Jeon, what happened to Lee Taemin in the alley?”

There was an edge to his voice that let Taehyung know that Min had singled out the most likely scenario. Taehyung does have a pretty clean record when it comes to gathering, so the last thing one might think is that he had been the one to slip up.

Jungkook’s voice stayed steady as he continued on with his story, recounting how he subdued Taemin and then Jimin. Thus, giving Taehyung the ability to corner Jimin while Jungkook went to obtain Taemin. And then Jungkook stops talking.

Jungkook licks his lips nervously and twitches his fingers a bit. This is the part that Tae is scared of too. Jungkook taking responsibility for what he did. More importantly, how Min Yoongi will react.

There's stories of him becoming explosive, yelling and using violence as soon as the incident has been explained. It's not a common occurrence, though. The majority of the tales told around the office are of an uncomfortably calm demeanor in situations like this. A disappointed lecture and then the distribution of what the next step is for you, punishment or death.

Tae shivers thinking of what most people he's met have seen before their death. Those cold, expressionless eyes and the disapproving frown belonging to Min Yoongi. The number of lives Min Yoongi has signed off of is not a number he thinks he could count to.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow expectantly at Jungkook and Tae refrains from nudging him. Urging him to go on if he knows what's best for them. He does what he thinks is the second best option and fixes Jungkook with a panicked look.

“I was draining Taemin to knock him out and bring him back to the base, but I messed up. I took too much from him and he-he didn't make it. I killed Lee Taemin instead of obtaining him.”

Tae lets out a breath as Jungkook finishes speaking and he feels a weird sense of pride that Jungkook had been entirely honest. It might not make what's going to happen next any better for him, but it will make Jungkook feel better and that's important too.

“So there was no flaws in the initial tracking or pursuing of Park Jimin and Lee Taemin. If there was no issue in the planning there is a problem in the execution,” there’s no room for debate on this statement. Each of them know it's true, “What do you think the problem was here, Jeon Jungkook?”

“I killed Le-” Jungkook's confused voice is stopped quickly by Yoongi gritting his teeth and spitting out the word no as if he could shoot the both of them with it.

Min Yoongi is calmer when he talks again, “no. No. That’s the result. What caused this result? Use your brain for once.”

Jungkook stammers through the start of several different ideas but Taehyung knows they're all wrong before they are even out of his mouth. Tae watches him fumble for the right answer for a few minutes longer before Jungkook finally mutters out, “Lost control.”

“There it is. There is the problem. See, I knew you had some logic in that brain of yours, takes a minute, but eventually you get there,” Yoongi doesn't have any bitterness to his words, but the unusually light tone and small smile is almost worse.

He is worming his way through the walls Jungkook has built to mask his insecurities. It'll stay there with him forever. Whenever he has a rough day there will be Min Yoongi’s voice reassuring any doubts he has about himself. Just how they want it.

Taehyung hasn't really ever experienced this method himself, but he notices it in others who have stood in Jungkook’s spot. It's not the most brutal of ways to ensure people try harder next time, but it's effective to those who have thinner skin than others. Unfortunately, Jungkook doesn't seem to have as many layers as Taehyung does.

Jungkook doesn't attempt a reply, just closes his mouth and starts to worry at the inside of his bottom lip. Another small habit out of the few he has that betray his calm façade.

Yoongi must have noticed too, “Look, there's no reason to be so nervous. Honestly, you know the mistake and you obviously feel bad enough about it to be scared now, yeah?”

Jungkook And Taehyung must look like mirror images of eachother. Eyebrows creased together and heads tilted just to the side. What does he mean? He isn't going to punish Jungkook? That didn't make sense. That's not the man sitting before them.

Min Yoongi laughs lowly and it's nothing near comforting or warm. It's distant and half hearted. He stands and lifts his left arm slightly so his forearm is facing his chest. Jungkook flinches beside Taehyung and Taehyung holds his breath, thinking at any second they would be attacked.

But there’s nothing. Just the soft chuckles dying down a bit and Yoongi reaching his other hand forward to adjust the buttons on his jackets cuffs, “like I said, there’s no reason to fear. We seem to have gotten a grasp on the lesson at hand. I have to meet with some people now to make sure this stays nice and tucked away from the public eye.”

Yoongi sighs as of a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and he swiftly gets up onto his feet. He brushes a hand down the front of his suit and gestures to the door, “thank you for your time. Enjoy the celebration dinner.”

Those are the last words Taehyung heard before he found himself back on the basement level. He couldn't comprehend what just happened no matter what angle he looked at it from. It just didn't make sense. Jungkook was just free to go? It can't be that easy.

There are times when Taehyung likes being right. When he approximates the right time to strike and obtain his target or when he was right in assuming Jungkook was the strongest trainee in the class. This is not one of those times. This time, Taehyung wish he had been wrong. Wishes it was just that easy.

Jungkook tugs on his sleeve as he continues his appreciation of the wall opposite the elevator doors. He isn't aware of how long he had been doing so, but he knows it was long enough to concern his student.

Jungkooks bottom lip is a but puffy when Tae finally looks at him and he realizes he should say something to ease the tension in them both, but Jungkook beats him to talking, “is that really it? I just got a bit of a slap on the wrist? Maybe old Yoongi is going soft.”

Taehyung shushes the laughter coming from Jungkook by placing a hand over his mouth and looking around to see if anyone had heard him. Thankfully, the closest person was at the desk and from the looks of it they were too busy with their own conversation to hear anyone else's.

“Are you crazy? Just because he didn't punish you for this doesn't mean he won't for being disrespectful. I won't settle for it either. You need to learn to respect your superiors, Jungkook,” Tae can't tell if he means what he's saying or he wants people to believe he means it. Doesn't really matter in the end, he has to mean it.

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows and wraps both hands around his hand to remove it from his face, “you going to punish me yourself, Taehyung-hyung?”

Tae widens his eyes in shock and swallows thickly. He can't quite piece together why Jungkook is acting so boldly in their office. The place where Jungkook should do nothing but listen to his commands. Tae can only put the blame on an adrenaline rush.

“Maybe I will, but I don't think you'll prefer me over them,” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow at Taehyung and there isn't much more to his grin besides mischief.

“Maybe, but I guess it'll have to wait. We have a dinner to attend. Boss’ order,” There’s another bout of laughter after this and Tae things he's officially lost his mind. Taehyung follows Jungkook down the hall towards the dining area anyways. He has to admit all of this has made him a bit hungry.

The celebration dinner happens after every gathering. It welcomes the new trainees and rids them of old and problematic recruits. It's a nice little gathering, not very long. There’s a speech and some eating, then it's back to the same old tracking and gathering.

The dining hall is about the size of the gymnasium they train in, having to have enough space to hold the new gatherers and their trainers. They all stand in a giant arc, saving a space for a stage and a podium.

It's almost entirely full by the time Taehyung and Jungkook reach their spots on the far right side of the room. They stand side by side and take in the amount of trainees still alive and standing in this room. Taking note of any they notice missing. If they were missing now, they were missing forever. Jungkook should be thankful he isn't one of them.

They stand quietly for a while, Taehyung trying to return his heart rate back to a normal level. The loud chatter around them suddenly dies in the air as the head trainer enters from a back entrance. One that only those who directly interact with Min-sunbae on a regular bases. One day Taehyung could walk through those doors, if he keeps his own track record squeaky clean after this.

He wants to question why everyone stopped completely when he notices the bright blond hair that walks securely between the head trainer and a few security team members. Min Yoongi stands, pale face blank, in his finely pressed suit. This rooms lighting is brighter than the rest and Taehyung can see the slight puffiness under Yoongi’s thin eyes. His suit jacket no longer appearing black like the rest of the outfit, but seemingly a deep, plum color.

He supposes he's seeing this all now because he finally stopped himself from panicking. But seeing the cause for it again causes a small gasp to escape from him. Why is Yoongi here? He never attends these meetings.

The aforementioned man steps out of his position between his guards and he makes his way to stand behind the podium, “Good evening. You are all standing here today because you have proven to your teachers and to me that you are now more than capable of being the gatherer we have trained you to be. We have yet again competed another gathering with an almost perfect success rate. Thank you.”

There's a rush of applause and some cheers before they quickly fade again to give Yoongi the chance to finish whatever thoughts he had for them.

“This season we have nearly doubled our intake rate and our waste percentage has dropped by nearly twenty percent. For those of you who don't know, this means our obtaining and our elimination of unsuitable candidates has gone back down to reasonable levels. This is a trend we hope dearly that continues in our future. We are going to be implementing new requirements and new ways to screen each new candidate with to make sure they fit the standards we deserve.”

Again, there is another wave of applause for Yoongi and he looks around at all of them as they let it continue for a few moments this time. Taehyung can't bring himself to join like Jungkook has. Not when Min’s eyes find his and stop there. Not when he smiles subtly at him and begins to speak again. Eyes remaining on the two of them.

“It is now time that we bring in the old to replenish with the new,” the back doors mentioned before are held open by two men Taehyung hadn't noticed before and a line of men and women are marched in on each side, only stopping once there is one in front of each of his peers. The woman that stands before him is thin and ghastly pale. The dark bruises and scars littering her arms and legs are all of different hues. All from different times in her last few weeks. Her eyes half open as she struggles to stay standing before him. He wants to turn his nose up at the used up slave, but he can smell her blood and he has never been good at refusing someone with an A+ type.

“Everybody, a toast. Thank you for another good year, here's to many more. Dig in and enjoy,” Yoongi finishes and watches as those on the floor below lunge forward to begin devouring every last drop inside the people before them.

Jungkook and Taehyung are no different. Tae should've been paying attention to his surroundings. To Min Yoongi. He would've seen the nod Yoongi gave to the men standing to his left side. Would've been able to warn Jungkook of what was coming before he is grabbed and pulled from the man he is feeding from. Said slave screaming in newfound pain as the chunk of flesh once belonging to his neck is ripped off with the man biting down on it.  The slave falls and cries as his blood begins to pool around his neck. The crowd looks up at the commotion.

Taehyung pulls back from his slave and she stumbles and falls to her knees before him. The attention isn't on the pain filled slave for very long before people bring their gazes to the men surrounding Jungkook. Poor Jungkook, whose tears are already beginning to fall freely as he struggles to break the hold the man behind has. Nothing helps as the man gets his hands on both of Jungkook's arms, bringing them to a tight hold behind his back.

Taehyung wants to break free from this frozen position he has found himself in, but he can't seem to do it. Nothing he tells his brain to do is registering. As if it knows already that even if he did try and help, nothing he could do would actually help. It might even make it worse, for both of them.

There's a sharp shout in pain and Taehyung is brought back from his mind to the image before him. Each person is taking their turn, hitting a new spot on Jungkook. The man up to bat now has a love for the ribs, as he swings with his left and right, hitting a new spot every time. It Doesn't take much for Jungkook to be gasping for air. One more punch, just harder than the others and there's a sickening crack. Tae would be surprised if it's just one rib broken.

This seems to please this man and he backs up enough to let the second man in. And Tae sees red as he instantly identifies this man's face. Kai takes his time walking up to the wheezing Jungkook. Taehyung feels himself finally break and his feet attempt to bring him in front of his trainee,  to protect him, but he's stopped almost instantly. His arms find their way into the same position Jungkook’s have been in. He struggles a bit and grits his teeth as Kai smiles at the both of them, bringing his hand up to trace Jungkook’s cheek.

It's a brief moment before his hand forms a fist, swings it back and comes forward to hit where he just caressed. Jungkook's head snaps to face his left and the reddening of his skin with bruising and blood is immediate. He doesn't get time to register much before he is hit by a left and then another right hook. His mouth and lips matching his cheek by dribbling blood down onto his shirt as his head faces down.

Kai grips his hair tight and Jungkook hisses as it's ripped backwards, making his eyes meet Kai’s. The smile on His face gone, now replaced with a snarl. Taehyung has to strain to hear what he says to Jungkook, “Taemin was supposed to be mine, but you went and ruined that. So I agreed to ruin you.”

Jungkook coughed and wheezes out a small “I'm sorry” but it's not good enough. Tae knows better than anyone that sorry doesn't get you anywhere with Kai.

Kai laughs in his face and shakes his head, “No, you're not sorry, but I'm going to make you be.”

With that Kai lowers his fist and lets go of Jungkook's tangled black locks. It's another sense of false security before he brings his fist up and it connects with a crunch and a thud to Jungkook’s face, sending his head flying back to rest against his captures chest. His eyes shut and nose becoming another part of his face to let blood flow heavily out of it.

The man let's pushed him to the floor and his head cracks against the hardwood and the sound echoes a few times. If he wasn't completely out a second ago, he definitely is now. Kai let's himself kick his already bruised and battered chest and stomach a few times before he spits directly on his bloodied face. Taehyung is pushed down next to his trainee, but he has the fortunate ability to stop himself from fully crashing with his hands.

Taehyung crawls quickly to Jungkook's side and cradles his hands, smearing blood as he attempts to feel for Jungkook’s pulse. Once he finds it He lets himself breathe and whips his head towards the microphone stand again. Yoongi is standing there still, watching the event, his eyes full of interest and Taehyung might even guess he sees some sort of happiness there.

Finally the silence that has fallen over the room is broken by the man himself, “sorry to interrupt, but there is always a time to learn one's lesson. This is what happens when one let's arrogance rule their minds. And now you know, one day arrogance might be what kills you. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

With that he leaves abruptly, his men following him out in a hurry. At first no one makes a move and then it's like nothing happened. Each trainer and trainee delving back into the slave they had been holding this whole time. Taehyung looks from his slave, to Jungkook’s and then back to Jungkook. He runs a hand through Jungkook’s hair and let’s himself finally cry. He lost what little appetite he had and, while the rest of his peers finished and left, Taehyung sat there with Jungkook’s hand in his own, hoping he would wake up soon.

Chapter Text

Namjoon doesn’t think he can make his eyes look at another file. The piles on his desk are slowly forming a small fort for him to hide behind. If only he could hide from the documents themselves. It’s important that he gets through at least one more stack by morning, but he can’t seem to get himself to retain any of the information written before him, let alone search out any more inconsistencies. He feels restless sitting there reviewing old cases instead of being out investigating a new one. Then again, he shouldn’t be hoping some other poor person out there gets murdered just for him to have something else to do.

Keeping his arms propped up by his elbows on the wooden top, he allows himself to slide down a bit in his chair, head becoming fully concealed by the papers and computer in front of him. He just might actually drown in his work tonight. His eyes now level with his keyboard and his lips twitch into a small scowl at the idea of having to type anymore tonight. He decides to continue to glare at the machine for a few minutes longer. The slight hum of the computer and a light clicking are the only noises around him. The tiny repetitions are new and after several more moments filled with them he can sense he is close to snapping entirely.

Eyes traveling from the keyboard to his right he immediately discovers the source of his annoyance. Namjoon’s jaw tightens momentarily as he takes in his own stupidity. His own hand caught in the act of mercilessly attacking the end of his pen. Putting a quick stop to it, the culprits are slammed down onto the desktop. There’s some sort of sensation from the intensity of his small outburst, but it’s nothing compared to the pangs he’s feeling in his stomach. The real reason for his anger. Namjoon is so hungry.

Getting this upset because one is desiring a quick snack seems a bit childish, he admits, especially when one is in a high ranking position like he is. He can’t really help himself. It’s been weeks since he has had a proper meal. At least being the head of the homicide department he can have these little fits in the privacy of his own office. There’s no way in hell he would be caught dead acting this way if his door were open and the rows of his officers could look in and see him. They couldn’t walk in and catch him either. They’re all aware of the disrespect Namjoon would feel if they were to enter without knocking first.

The monitor he has been neglecting finally gives up on being used and fades to its original login screen. Namjoon supposes now would be a good time to stretch his legs, since nothing here is going to get done any faster. The office isn’t too big, and within a few feet he’s out of the door and walking between even rows of smaller desks in the office. He remembers how cramped he felt at his old desk toward the back of the main room and he can’t help but be grateful that he never has to sit at there ever again. The tight space makes the blank grey walls of his office feel freeing, makes the amount of work due seem less stressful than it had before. Every case held more pressure back then, when he was so desperately trying to prove himself to those above him. Like those sitting in their seats now.

There’s not many in the office with him tonight. The usual suspects all in their assigned seats, slaving over case reports that will no doubt make their way into the piles Namjoon should be working on right now. To his relief it won’t be too soon, since the clock on the wall above them says they’ll be cycling out soon, letting those patrolling the streets to take over desk duty and vice versa. Namjoon supposes the desk work is always worth it when you finally get to go out and work the field.

As Namjoon steps closer to last row of desks he recognizes the bright silvery blonde tufts of hair that is currently hunched over and blocking the paper he is writing on. When he finally makes it to the empty desk directly in front of the occupied on their head snaps up. Namjoon would be impressed that he was heard, his steps having been quiet enough to not gain the attention of the other workers in the room, but he knows this one is different than the rest. Has skills the others probably dream of having.

The smile he gives Namjoon is toothy and bright, “Hello, Chief Kim. How are you?”

His body falls still as he attempts to return the same warm gesture, but it’s all tight lipped and no teeth. He knows it doesn’t reach his eyes, doesn’t bring out the dimples Jin constantly reminds him that he has. “I’m alright, Officer Byun. A bit restless, I’ll admit. Good, overall. How are you?”

Namjoon can’t explain why the healthy pink hue of Baekhyun’s cheeks or the lack of dark circles around dark, tired eyes picks at his nerves the way they are right now, but he finds himself annoyed. Normally Namjoon felt almost protective of the younger man. Right now, however, he can’t bring himself to care about any sort of response the officer could give him. “I’m alright. Good to be back. Channie was right, a little vacation was all I needed to get my head back into a good spot.”

The first realization hits Namjoon in a soft wave. He remembers giving Baekhyun the approval for a few days off, when Baekhyun looked far more worse for wear and the whole team watched him to see when he might collapse. He can practically still hear his inferior telling him about his and his fiance’s plans to travel to help get Baekhyun out of the fog he seemed to be in. Must’ve been a hell of a trip, he looks completely refreshed. He voices this to the man sitting before him.

“I feel brand new, chief. I’ll admit that last week was rough, but I’m better for now. Definitely ready to work again. What about you, chief, have you ever thought of taking a vacation?”

The second wave isn’t as kind. It slams full force into him, any response he might’ve thought to say gone with the air in his lungs. God, he must look as lifeless and hollowed as Baekhyun had. There’s no modest way to cover up the gurgles that briefly flare up in his stomach. Namjoon now embraces what the empty sensation in him was trying to tell him at his desk. Snacking isn’t going to cut it for much longer. Namjoon is starving and Baekhyun looks so full. It’s a bitter taste to swallow even if it isn’t something either of them can control.

There’s no reason for Namjoon to become as envious as he does. It’ll be his time again soon and then some other poor idiot will wish they were him and so on. It’s a cycle that will last forever. Baekhyun’s lips drop fast, covering his teeth to present the room with a grimace. He doesn’t have to ask to know that Namjoon is upset. His eyes trying to convey the sorry that he can’t say aloud. So much for the sympathy, Namjoon doesn’t want it. He doesn’t mean the slight hint of venom that comes with his response, but he wants out of this conversation that has done nothing but confirm what he already knew was wrong, “No, I haven’t. Excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

It’s not as much of a walk as it is a march to the break room. To him it feels like more of the grown up way of storming off than stomping the whole way. Which he highly debated on doing before he remembered who he is in this setting. Even Jin has only seen him act so childishly on just a few occasions. Times when his hunger becomes unbearable like this.

It’s anger that brings him to the overused coffee pot. Trying to place how long it’s been since it was actually cleaned isn’t something he’d like to do. He’s confident in his belief that he doesn’t really want to know. The dark liquid is taunting him from behind the glass. It’s not what he wants, but he supposes it could hold him over for now. Or at least distract him until later.

The stale blue ceramic mug that he chooses is cold to the touch and Namjoon dislikes the firmness of the object. The coffee he pours only heightens the temperature of the glass to a lukewarm and the drinks already low appeal drops lower than he thought it could. Adding the lightest bit of sugar he sighs, aware that no matter how much he modifies it there’s no way it’ll taste the way he wants.

Chugging is the prefered method here. He doesn’t want to savor any part of this experience. He hates being right about hating it. It falls and sits inside his empty stomach and he already regrets this decision. The aftertaste is almost worse than the initial flavor. All he can taste with every breath is sweetened dirt. With the mug in the sink he determines it can wait to be cleaned, there’s always a chance he will need more later.

Namjoon doesn’t waste time on anymore conversations and has himself tucked back into his office all within 15 minutes of leaving it. He leans with his back planted on the door, taking to nibbling on his own bottom lip in an effort to distract himself. It’s not a well thought out plan and he is done with it shortly after. There’s a soft buzzing coming from his desk and he doesn’t have to look to know who it is. There’s no doubt in his mind that Baekhyun told Jin about his behavior already.

‘Seokjin’ appears in big white letters over options for the call and Namjoon feels numb to the fact that he is right. Jin’s voice is soothing him before he can get a word out, “Are you okay? Baekhyun messaged me and -”

The voice is cut off by Namjoons own annoyed one, “I’m fine, Jin, you don’t need to call and mother me. Aren’t you working anyway?”

“I’m on a break in between patients,” Jin seems almost defensive on the other line, but it disappears before Namjoon can call him out on it, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t call you at work. I was worried.”

The thought that he didn’t ask for the babysitter he has now acquired makes him huff. He softens his tone a bit, knowing that it’s not Jin’s fault that he feels this way. “I know, it’s okay. I just don’t feel like myself right now. How are you?”

There’s an honesty in the response and it makes him feel at least a bit better, “I’m okay. Lots of patients today, lots of kids with colds and stuff. Enough about me. You’re not well... You didn’t check your bag at all did you?”

There’s a crease where the smooth plain of his forehead once was and he expresses his confusion to Jin. No, he didn’t check his bag. He simply brought it to inevitably take home some of the paperwork he is continuing to neglect by being on the phone. There was no reason to check because there wasn’t anything he needed inside.

“Joonie,” a over dramatic sigh carries the nickname so lightly, “maybe you didn’t pack anything important, but that doesn't mean I didn't.”

His ears are completely perked as the sentence nestled it's way into his brain. What a genius his Jin is. Namjoon isn't surprised Jin noticed the signs before he even did. Jin has seen this cycle so many times in his life with Namjoon, that he probably even has a date picked out for when the next pangs will strike.

He doesn't waste much time ripping open the smooth beige bag on the floor near his neatly hung up black coat. He's sure Jin can hear his heavy breathing, but he doesn't say anything, just laughs lightly in his ear. Inside there's a few miscellaneous objects along with a chunk of files he needed to discuss with those they concerned. Tucked snuggly between these papers and the right side of the bag is a silver thermos with a black lid. An object he bought for Jin to take meals to work with him.

“Jin, is this-” he's cut off with a single word as confirmation, “how did you-?”

Namjoon will have to talk to Jin about consistently interrupting his questions, but he knows arguing about that now isn't such a great idea. Not when he's this unstable.

“Did I know? You look so thin, so tired. I know that look on you. It was an educated guess. Did I do it? You don't pay attention to me much before you leave for work. It was easy. I slipped it into your bag while you were changing.”

He would laugh if he wasn't busy lightly turning the container in his hands, listening to the light splash it made as it's contents hit the sides. He shouldn't tease himself, but he's always been such a sucker for anticipation, “how did you...make it?”

Jin knows the phrasing is chosen carefully, so his is just as intentional, “the other night after dinner...i packed up some leftovers when you left to clean up. There was a lot left over, I'm not wasteful, I knew you'd want more at some point.”

Namjoon knows that night. Knows every night like that one. He can still see the disappointed look on Jin’s face when he wasn't very hungry after returning from his trip out of town. It happens every time he leaves and returns. The same sad pout forms on his lips before he reassures Namjoon that he's fine and silks away for the night.

The sad undertone that started this trail of conversation from Jin showed Namjoon he was thinking of them too, but his voice now? This has nothing but pride in every syllable, “it's not fresh, but it's still one of the best things you'll ever eat.”

“It is,” Namjoon shows no hesitation in giving confirmation to the statement, “Jin, I'm going to go and eat-”

There he goes again, three marks on the board for Jin. Even with his voice being as soft as it has become, his inability to let Namjoon finish a sentence is the reason he will be punished later, “wait....i don't mind if you…”

“You want me to stay on the phone while I eat?” the upward curve of Namjoon's lips shouldn't be as smug as it is, but he'll be damned if he doesn't let himself feel good about this. He places the phone on speaker and warns Jin not to be too loud.

With his other hand finally free he takes his time twisting off the lid and tossing it toward his bag. If it makes it in or not doesn't really bother him. He's been waiting for this for far to long. The smell hits his nose with such strength his knees shake slightly, he whispers to Jin that it still looks and smells delectable, a “still so warm, like its fresh” slips from his lips and its enough to get a response from Seokjin. He is a bit breathless as he thanks Namjoon for the praise.

He wants Jin to hear it up close, let him know how much he enjoys the meal prepared for him. He brings the phone back to his ear and Jin’s breathing has become as ragged as his own, he brings the cup to his lips and groans as the flavor finally hits his tongue. It's a time where he wants to take it slow, but his stomach disagrees and he drinks it down in a matter of seconds.

Jin can hear each gulp and slurp that Namjoon takes and Namjoon knows that he prefers it that way. Is aware that Jin would give anything to be there with him, to help him in person. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and catches the traces left behind on his chin and corners of his mouth. It smears on his pale skin and he wills himself not to lick off every last bit of it.

“Thank you, Jin, that was so good. So good for me,” and he hangs up before he can get a reply. He had let himself stay on the phone far too long for anyone's good. He has things to work on tonight. Jin won't be hurt. He's used to this type of thing by now. The distance Namjoon puts between them after moments like that. Moments too close to something they can't have.

He's about to sit back down to take advantage of what little time this meal will give him of clarity, but before he's even comfortable there’s ringing again. Checking his cell he thinks maybe Jin forgot to tell him something. He almost feels guilty. Until he realizes it's the phone on his desk which means this is official business.

Namjoon picks it up hastily and there's talking before he can even say hello, “Chief Kim Namjoon?”

The voice is almost as familiar as the tone that his name is said with, “Good evening, Min-Sunbae. Yes, this is Chief Kim Namjoon.”

They've done this dance on the phone more times than Namjoon would like to think about, but he knows the formality is necessary. There isn't much pause before there is talking again. A quick sentence before there’s silence once again.

It's just an address. Some street downtown where Kim Namjoon spent his days as a rookie cop helping catch druggies and the occasional prostitute. That's not what they'll be finding there tonight. Someone messed up tonight.

“I'll come take a look as soon as possible, thank you for your concern,” he speaks as though it's a overly concerned citizen, because that's what the man behind the phone call prefers. It helps keep suspicions at bay.

“Take Officer Byun with you. He did well last time, he has a real future with us,” and then there is a click and the dial tone that indicates the phone has been hung up.

Namjoon is on his feet in a matter of seconds. He feels a bit of shame that his excitement comes at the cost of dead body, but he can't help but feel the rush of it all. It's nice to be able to do what you were hired for after all.

Namjoon sends a quick text to Seokjin. Just something to let him know that he will be home late and that he hopes he has a good day at work. He tosses his cell in his pocket, now just on silent so he has no distractions.

Leaving his office once again he takes note of the time again. Of course Min-Sunbae would be so smart. It's exactly time for officers to switch out. He spots Officer Byun walking away from his desk.

He catches him by the door and it's held open for him. He thanks the officer who does this for him then turns his attention to the man he chased after.

“I think I'll go for this patrol with you, officer, if that's okay with you?” there's no room for Officer Byun to debate. Not only is this his superior, he knows the reasons why he would want to go with him.

Baekhyun plays up the act for him though, “Chief Kim, that's more than fine with me. Is there something wrong with my perfinance so far?”

“Quite the contrary,” Namjoon smiles lightly and thinks back to what Min Yoongi had said to him just minutes before now, “we all agree, you have quite the future here.”

Climbing inside the patrol car they quickly pull off in a random direction before they're far enough away, “make a right here.”

“Someone didn't make it through tonight, did they?” Baekhyun’s voice is soft. Possibly because he isn't sure that it wasn't his sweet Chanyeol that slipped up. Possibly because loss of life like this still might get under his skin. Namjoon isn't sure if it still gets to him or not. Doesn't like to dwell on it long.

“Someone messed up tonight. Let's just clean this up and get home,” there isn't much reassurance to give him, it's not as if he got much information on the phone. He knows once he gets there he will know, but for now they ride toward the alley in almost complete silence.

---

Jin’s pen scratched across the surface of the form he was signing. Signing his name. Signing away the life of his fourth life today. He had just one more new ‘recruit’ to initiate, and he prayed that he wouldn’t have yet another life on his hands. This was the hardest part of his job. Not having children urinate on him. Not delivering stillborn babies. It was sending already grown people to their deaths for not wanting this life. For not wanting to do something against their will. To be forced into servitude. Which, honestly, he doesn’t blame them for, but if they knew their other option, more would choose servitude.

He was normally a pediatrician, normally he got to check on sniffling little kids. Make sure infants were progressing properly. But he needed to be more than that to this empire. They needed a processor and he was the only doctor they had. It fell on him. He couldn’t wait until they allowed him to turn, he’d finally get a break then. A break from this, at least.

Dragging his hand down his face at the sound of his door opening yet again, he turned to face it. Couldn’t he get more than five minutes to recover from sending off someone to die? No, vampires didn’t care. These ones didn’t feel like he did anymore. They had been vamps for far too long to care about death. Death of humans didn’t matter to them. It was vamps that mattered. If a vamp was killed, there would be uproar. A full investigation. Killing a vamp was not only illegal, it was probably the highest offense. No one got away with killing a vamp. No one. Humans? Humans were disposable. They were forgettable. Replaceable. Like cattle.

As his eyes fell on the people entering, he was surprised that they weren’t carrying a body. The human with them was awake and aware. This had never happened before. At least not with Hunter Kim, he knew how to knock out his catches properly. He must be training a new hunter. Kim would never let this happen.

“Thank you,” Jin said to the two, bodyguards? he supposed you’d call them. They didn’t really guard bodies as much as make sure they didn’t run away or try to fight. “You may leave now.”

The other two nodded and left the room, while Jin approached the smaller man. He was shorter than Jin, but only by a little bit. Definitely had a cute face. Jin always thought that he himself was very handsome, but this man was cute, not handsome. He had round cheeks that were rosy, big eyes, and a small nose. He looked more muscular than Jin was, or probably would ever be. Definitely useful, depending on who bought him. Jin picked up the clipboard that contained the paperwork he needed to fill out on this new asset. The paperwork had very little information on the subject, just his name, age, blood type, and residence. The information that the hunters had to gather so they could do their tracking. Bare essentials.

“So, Park Jimin-nim, yes? That is your name?” Jin said softly, not wanting to startle Jimin. The shorter man looked at him, he had previously been observing the room he was in. Jin’s office was nice than most, or so he’d like to think. He was a pediatrician after all, he couldn’t have it be off-putting. It wasn’t stuffy nor was it creepy. He liked having a well lit space that at least looked comfortable. Some doctor’s offices were very… severe. Jin had cute wallpaper with animals on it, some children’s books, a few toys; all to keep his tiny patients happy. After a short pause, Jimin nodded, “Yes.”

Jin was a little taken aback, normally new assets were scared, flighty, angry, silent. Like the last few he had sent to their deaths. This Jimin seemed to not be any of those things. It seemed he was interested more than anything else. Like he wanted to explore the area more, not to find an exit, but to learn more about where he was.

“Born in Busan on October 13th, 1995? Your blood type is A? Are these both correct?” Jin asked, and the younger man nodded quickly. The doctor smiled and moved onto his first order of business, finding out what Jimin was good at and what potential investors would be looking for. “What do you do? Your profession, your hobbies, your passions?” he asked, readying his pen for filling out the paperwork.

“W-well, I’m a server by day and a dancer by night.” Jin watched as the younger man blushed, as if he was nervous when talking about himself. He then nodded and smiled at Jimin to encourage him to continue, “My passion is dancing. I like to sing a little too, but dancing is what I am strong at. It’s what I want to do. I love it.”

Talents such as Jimin would be highly coveted by the vampires, especially the higher ups. They would auction him off after forcing him to perform for them all. Scrabbling to get him in their service. They’d want him for more than entertainment of course, but they couldn’t have him for that. No, that wasn’t allowed. Jin scribbled down his talents and looked back up at the dancer, “Do you know where you are and why you are here, Jimin-nim?” Jimin shook his head, still no fear in his eyes. Jin was sure there would be soon, “You are in my clinic, which is in Seoul. It is owned by the government. The vampire government. I’m sure you are now aware that vampires exist, that is how you got here. You were watched and hunted because the government wants to sell you to the highest bidder. They want to sell you into slavery. You are here to be a slave, Jimin-nim.”

Jin watched as Jimin barely responded to his statement. Merely blinking, no outrage or tears like he was used to witnessing. It was as if Jimin had already figured out the situation he was in, and had accepted his fate. “The man you were with at the time of the capture,” the doctor flipped a sheet to find the name, “Lee Taemin-nim was unfortunately killed while being subdued. I’m very sorry.” That, however, drew a response from Jimin. Eyes widening and breathing speeding up, but no tears. It seemed as if Jimin was trying to not cry. Like he didn’t want to seem weak. Jin made a note, used to hiding emotions, and looked back up at his subject. He wished he was able to give Jimin even a little time to mourn the loss of his friend, but he had to press on. The auction would be first thing the following night, and it was already well past midnight.

“I need to collect blood and urine samples from you, is that alright?” the doctor asked while shuffling the papers in his hands. He noticed Jimin give a small nod, not as brave as he was a few minutes ago. “It’s just a precaution, to make sure you have no blood diseases, or anything that can be transferred via bodily fluids. Vampires can get sick very easily as they drink blood.” He noticed Jimin slightly nod in understanding out the corner of his eye. Jin slightly sighed, this was going to be a long night for the boy.

---

Seokjin sighs and cracks his neck as he approaches the front door that separates Namjoon and himself from the world. God, he has been craving that separation all day. New slave days are always the longest and hardest. The desire to crawl in bed and sleep keeps growing with every step.

He knows that sleep won't bring him much comfort though. Even after years of the same cycle he is aware that his night will be full of cold sweat and the faces of those he's sent off to kill in different mangled positions. There at least is potential for some good this year.

He actually has high hopes for Jimin, but the others had been not so great, and that stressed him out. Potential slaves that had no talents or skills wouldn’t last long. They probably will be dead within a couple days. Min-sunbae was the last line after Seokjin, so if he didn’t approve, the potential slaves were disposed of.

Or worse. Jin has never explicitly seen what Namjoon has referred to as the “communal”, but he understands that he never wants to. He remembers small things Joon has said about it. A dark, enclosed space where unpurchased or unusable slaves are sent to live out their days. Where vampires who are unable to have slaves of their own, for any reason, go to feed.

Jin shutters at the thought. Being kept in a musty basement somewhere in the dark. Not knowing the vampires lined up to feed off of various parts of your body. No matter how good it might feel, Jin wouldn't want anyone else to touch him like that. Certainly not a stranger.

Inserting his key into the lock, he realized that it was unlocked. Namjoon-ssi was already home. A shiver ran down his spine in anticipation. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way or even think to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. Everything about Namjoon excited him.

He opened the door and closed it behind him, hanging his keys up on the hook by the door. It isn't shocking that the majority of the lights are on their lowest setting, giving just enough light to be able to walk through the room without being blind. What is surprising, however, are the noises and smells coming from the kitchen.

“Ah, you’re home?” he calls, shrugging off his coat. There is no sound of a reply from Namjoon in the hallway. The cluttering of pots and pans the only thing to be heard.Some days would be normal, amicable, friendly. He is able to refer to his master by name, joke around. Others are… different. Instead of risk being punished for impudence, “...Master?” he ventures.

When there is once again nothing Jin quickly places his bag and shoes in their proper places and makes his way down the hall to the kitchen. The sight before him does things to his heart he wills himself not to think about. Namjoon is flushed and sweating, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a confused dip in his brow line.

Namjoon is reading off of a recipe card Jin hadn't looked at in months and Jin find himself enamored with watching Namjoon try to put the pieces together for a few minutes. It's not until the knife in his hand slips from cutting the piece of meat to the flesh of Namjoon's hand that Jin makes himself known.

“Master, be careful,” placing his hand over Namjoons on the handle he forces him to drop the offending object. Jin thanks the stars above that the wound is more blood than damage and it's bandaged within moments of it occurring. All the while he knows he should do so silently, but he can’t help the lecture about being more careful that stumbles past his lips. He finishes it off with “now, please, go sit, I can do this.”

It feels odd being on the ordering side of the situation, but he can't help it. Not when Namjoon is so good at scaring him with injuries like this. For a vampire, he really is a walking disaster. No grace and elegance with him. No, the wind can take him down on a good day.

Namjoon doesn't like it either. He purses his lips at Jin, “that’s no way to talk to someone doing something nice for you. Let alone how you should talk to your master.”

Jin quickly ducks his eyes away from Namjoons, not wanting to feel the wrath for anything else today, “I'm sorry, sir, you scared me. I appreciate the gesture, but do you mind if I finish dinner?”

There's a heavy sigh and Jin sees the injured hand raise up high and falls back to his side again. There's a defeated sound to his voice now, “Okay, Seokjin. Finish dinner, I'll set the table.”

Jin waits until the heavy thud of Namjoons footsteps exit the kitchen entirely before he lifts his head up again. He turns back towards the counter and tries to salvage what he can of dinner. It only takes just about 30 minutes for him to finish everything, including inspecting for blood and cleaning the knife that cut his master.

He brings each dish to the table and sets them about in a way that he finds aesthetically pleasing. Jin always takes pride in his ability to make things look the best they can. He assumes it's another reason they have him on new slave duty.

Bringing the last dish in he takes his seat at the far end of the dinning table. The only set place at the table, “thank you, Master.”

“it's the least I could do,” Jin wishes he could look at Joons face, he wants to see if he is sad or sincere, “after almost ruining your meal.” Sad is the correct choice.

“I'm thankful that you tried. It's not very common for vampires to cook well. You don't ever really need to,” he decides to be a bit bold, “your meals are always ready and willing.”

The slight gasp that escapes Namjoon tells Jin his words had the effect he hoped that it would. Before Namjoon has time to willingly react Jin quickly changes the subject, “how was work today?”

“It was slow for most of it. Until a problem arose,” Namjoon always did this when he reached this level of hunger. Vague answers and emotionally oversensitive. He is cold and disinterested in everything. Well, everything except for one thing. Jin can feel the eyes tracing his every move. The movement from bringing food from his plate to his mouth. Especially on his mouth and throat as he chews and swallows.

Jin wills himself to keep his attention on his food. To not squirm and breathe heavily due to the intensity of the staring. Boy, does he love the spotlight Namjoon puts him in. Pulling himself back the present to avoid any visible evidence for Namjoon to analyze, he chooses to keep the conversation going, “A problem? Is everything settled now?”

The air that was thick moments ago is now tense. Probably not a good idea to keep talking, but sometimes Jin can’t help it. He hates the silence and hearing Namjoons voice, angry or otherwise, is one of the best parts parts of his day. “Yeah, some rookie in the field killed a kid. A Lee Taemin? Well, I’m sure you know that, since he was on your list for tonight and never showed. We did the usual, shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

Namjoon delivered this this all with an attitude that screamed he was finished sharing with the class. However, Jin is more than aware his mouth is a lot faster than his brain in times like this, “what did you do?”

“What I normally do, Seokjin,” there’s a sting from the force of which Namjoon says this to him. He can see it in his head, Namjoon clenching his fists and wrenching his eyes shut to calm down, “We got to the ally, we took care of the body. Wasn’t too hard this time. At least the kid left enough blood to make the stabbing look legit. Body looks dumbed, no eye witnesses, knife planted and trophy taken. As far as the city is concerned, the midnight killers are still at large or there is a copycat killer. Now, Seokjin, that’s enough. Eat.”

Jin is smart enough this time to stop himself before he can start in again. He doesn’t take much longer with the food on his plate and within a few minutes he is standing to clear the table he practically just put together. Najoom clears his throat and Jin stops in his tracks, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m finished eating, Master, may I please clean up the table?” He hopes asking helps correct whatever Namjoon has decided JIn did wrong. He should know by now that at this stage in his hunger Namjoon prefers to be asked. On normal days Jin doesn’t really have to make sure what he is doing is okay, because they both know Jin is more than aware of his boundaries and requirements for keeping the house clean.

“SIt. Down.” Jin body reacts to the command faster than he brain even processes it. As if every fiber in his being is tuned to Namjoons wishes, wanting to please him more than just in his mind now. It’s almost on a molecular level for him now. “So good, Seokie. Always listening to me. You need to eat.”

“I-I did, Master. I’m full,” Namjoons fist hitting the table stops any rambling from Seokjin before it can start.

“Don’t fight with me, Seokjin. You were just so good, too. You know better than anyone it’s not good to have blood drawn on a less than full stomach.” So that’s what he’s upset about, “I need you to be able to handle the amount I need to take tonight.”

Jin feels a static rush course through him. He had been hoping Namjoon would still want to feed tonight, but he wasn’t sure he would. Sometimes Namjoon gets scared he won’t be able to stop himself from taking more than he should. Jin fills his plate again and when Namjoon doesn’t say anything he assumes he took enough to appease him. He finishes this round off and sits patiently, “did I eat enough, Master?”

“Yes, that’s good enough. Thank you, Seokie. You can go wait by the stairs, I’ll clean up for you,” Namjoon is known for this too. Doing a simple chore of Seokjin’s after an outburst like that. It’s not exactly an apology, but Jin takes what he can get. He stands and bows, thanking Namjoon for joining him for dinner and scurries to the bottom of the stairs.

He debates between standing and kneeling for a few minutes before he makes a decision. He places himself on his knees quietly, sitting himself on his legs and bowing his head to look directly at the floor. It’s can’t be much more than 20 minutes before he hears Namjoon approach him. Instead of stopping by him and praising him like he normally would he climbs the stairs and disappears into the darkness at the top. Jin would be lying if he said he didn’t feel hurt by the silence. He knows Namjoon isn’t really mad, but why wouldn’t he speak to him. Tell him how good he is again.

“Seokjin, my good boy, please come up stairs,” the voice is followed by a light flickering on at the top. Jin picks himself and meets Namjoon at the very top of the stairs, outside of the bathroom door. The source of the light coming from inside the open doorway, “Since you’re so keen on talking back today, at work and at home, I have decided on an appropriate punishment for you. The bathroom is disgusting. You are going to scrub it until it is spotless.” The vampire said with no hint of malice, just authority. An trace of anger he had he seems to have left downstairs. Jin has one guess as to why.

“Of course, Master,” Seokjin replied, eyes falling to his feet. “What would you like me to clean with?” The longtime slave knew his master got off on ordering him around. He knows he deserves the punishment given to him. His mouth has run away from him too many times today. Jin would do it for him regardless if he was told to or not. He would do anything to make his master happy, to get as close as possible to something tangible. Something they can't have.

Namjoon ponders for a moment before opening his mouth, “A sponge will suffice, I’m feeling generous today.” He smirks, “If you do a good job, maybe I’ll reward you.”

Seokjin’s ears perked at this, there's the reason. Why he is no longer pent up with all this anger. He is going to eat soon and Jin can barely wait. He loves being the reason Namjoon is satiated and happy. He didn’t dare raise his gaze, though. he knew where he belonged. What he deserved. “Yes, Master.”

Moving into the bathroom, eyes still averted, he removes his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly. He folds it and sets it lightly beside the door. Namjoon will demand it off of him anyway, might as well get a head start, “Yes, good job, Seokie. Just like I like.” he hears Namjoon murmur near his ear. Seokjin shivers again, reveling in the praise and attention.

Reaching under the sink to grab a sponge and cleaning spray, he pauses, “Where should I start, Master?” Namjoon has now perched himself on the edge of the toilet, gazing at his slave. Seokjin shuffles a bit, although he loves the attention, not being able to meet Namjoon’s gaze frustrates him. He wants to return the intensity. He wants to be able to see just how much his Master loves him.

“The tub, it’s obviously the filthiest,” the vamp flicks his wrist towards the bathtub, keeping his eyes locked on the slave.

“Absolutely, Master.” the lesser replies, quickly moving to the tub, which is most certainly not dirty. He had scrubbed it last night. He falls to his knees, spraying the surface, and begins scrubbing. He gives it a few moments before he arches his back, to give Joon the best view. He knows Joon likes to see each of his muscles ripple as he works.

After a couple of minutes, Seokjin speaks, “Am I doing a good job, Master?” Finally lifting his gaze to give Joon a bashful look, over his shoulder, directly in his eyes. The vamp’s gaze was heady, Seokjin could almost feel his thirst through the look alone.

Namjoon stands, looming over the kneeling man, and saunters over to his slave. Dropping into a crouch so he is right next to Seokjin’s ear, he takes a deep breath, “So good. You are so good for me, Seokie. You always are. You never disappoint me. Ever.”

The vamp nips at his slave’s ear, breathing out, which is enough to make Seokjin melt into his master’s arms. “Beautiful, I love how ready you are for me. How pliant you are for me. I’m going to drink from you, Seokie. Where should I drink from?”

Last time, Joon had drunk from his inner thigh, and Seokjin had enjoyed it immensely. But he knows Namjoon likes to change it every night, so Jin wouldn’t get bruised or sore. And Jin has always had a preference for this, “My neck, please… I want you to mark me.” Jin sighs.

Joon just makes a grunt of approval before cradling his head and sinking his teeth into his jugular. Pain, at first, piercing pain, but quickly, the pain turns into ecstasy. Of all the places on his body, Jin’s neck is his most sensitive. Everything feels wonderful. It doesn’t take long for Seokjin to grow hard at the sensation of being fed upon. He knows he must wait and take care of it himself later, as Joon won’t. Can’t.

He knows that Joon enjoys this as much as he does. That wants to move further, just as he does, but Joon never will. Not until he is turned. If he ever gets turned. They’re still drowning in wait list and paperwork it takes to even consider letting him do so. It isn’t allowed, them being together as they are now. Human and vampire. And Namjoon is such a damn penchant for the rules. He will never break them. He would never risk Seokjin’s life like that. Because that’s exactly what they will take if they moved forward and people found out. So Jin is okay with waiting because the wait will be ridiculously worth it.

Removing his teeth, his master licks up the beads of blood that follow. He pulls Jin’s hand up to cover the wound, “Keep pressure on that,” Joon says as he stands up and retrieves a small first aid kit from the medicine cabinet. He returns quickly and applies some sort of alcohol wipe, a cream, and lastly a tight bandage to his neck. As his master gets back up up, he presses light kiss to his slave’s temple and whispers a “thank you” before leaving the bathroom quickly.

It always ends like this, Joon doesn't want to risk falling prey to his lust. Jin doesn't blame him or feel saddened by the abandonment, he knows it is necessary. They are allowed to pleasure themselves, just not each other. Otherwise it's illegal he has never understood why, what is so wrong with their affections?

He never pushes the subject with his master, because he knows it was a touchy subject for him. Has seen the devastations of it too up close and personal for his liking. Jin could lose his life for even suggesting it. So, even though he wants so badly to follow his master into his bedroom, he stays put, still on a high from the sudden blood loss.

He slips a hand into his pants. The sudden pressure enough to draw a soft sigh from deep within him. He puts just a bit more pressure on himself before he gives himself one slow stroke. The fuzzy feeling around him doubling the pleasure he is giving himself. The pleasure he so wishes Namjoon could give him instead. His mind is quickly flooded with thoughts of his master as soon as he thinks of his name.

He thinks of the firmness of Namjoon behind him as he drank from him. Imagines Namjoons skin flush with his, feeling Namjoon hard against his ass. The ecstacy of grinding down on his lap as he nips and sucks at his neck until he finally bites down and drinks from him. The constricted strokes are aggravating and soon is completely naked on the bathroom floor.

His pace becomes faster, each stroke being followed by a twist of his wrist at the head of his cock. Small pants and moans leaving his lips as he does so. He slows it down every few flicks and gives the head a few soft, teasing squeezes before he goes back to his original pattern. He can’t help it. He loves the tease too. He runs his free hand up his stomach to his chest, dragging what little nails he has across his skin and he whimpers at the slight sting he feels. Arriving at his chest he fumbles to roll his nipple between his fingertips. Between the blood loss and endless pleasure he has been feeling his mind is dizzy and his body feels heavy, but he’s so desperate for release he keeps his pace going.

Once his mind slips from pretending Namjoon is there with him, his hands in place of Jin’s on his body to the thought of being turned his hips buck up into his fist. The thought of Namjoon giving him new life has always put a slow burn into the pit of his stomach. Not just Namjoon draining him and filling him with his own blood, saving him from death, but because that means they’re real.

He pictures the dinners where Jin is usually the meal. Him sitting at Namjoon’s side, kissing him whenever he wants, and holding his hand. Namjoon showing him off to his friends. Jin wishes it’s the physical side to this that brings him over the edge, but he knows it’s not true. As he chokes out a broken “Namjoon” as the last flick of his wrist causes his body to spasm and his vision to go white, he knows what got him here. The idea of a real life with Namjoon. When he finally comes to, Jin finds himself alone, covered in sweat, cum and blood trickling from his ripped open bandage. Most importantly, Jin finds himself lower than he has felt in a while.

Chapter Text

Jimin’s vision is blurry as he blinks his eyes open. He isn't very shocked that he managed to fall asleep. Supposes his body finally crashed from all the adrenaline and blood loss from the last few days.

All of them have been more physically demanding than his body was ready for after the night he was taken. It makes sense, he guesses, slaves had to be in some sort of shape to work their lives away for somebody else.

The first day had been a walk in the park. Nothing but testing of body composition and bodily fluids. After a series of questions, a weighing, and a collection of liquids the results were all favorable for continuing on in this process.

No kidney infections, STD’s or other transmitted diseases. Jimin could’ve told them he was clean, but he supposes some would lie to save themselves. Better safe than sorry.

Every day since has been increasingly difficult. The long days of learning his new place. Only speaking when spoken to in front of company, asking for permission when in the home, avoiding eye contact, etc. ‘Master’ is becoming the most used word in his vocabulary.

The layers of bruises on his knees and the stiffness in his neck reminders of afternoons spent sitting in a ‘proper’ position. Kneeling at the feet of his eventual owner. Hunched over with his eyes on the floor and hands folded in his lap.

He thinks those days were the worst. At least when his physical endurance and abilities were tested he didn't have time to think. Too busy focusing on making it through the next set of pushups and other exercises to really let the idea of being purchased and owned like some sort of take out meal sink in.

He couldn't reflect on the loss of Taemin or his freedom. He just thought of the burning aches and pains in every one of his muscles.

The man Jimin has now come to know as Seokjin told him that this is necessary. Slaves must be able to handle any task asked of them. That they must prove that they can show off their potentials in less than a few hours from now.

He told Jimin he is one of them, a slave just like Jimin is. That he had to do all of this as well. While upsetting, this made Jimin feel a bit calmer. But the thought that Seokjin is so accustomed to this life he could help pull others in as well is also disconcerting. How could he let them do this? Is there an amount of time it takes to lose any sense of remorse for helping do this to people?

Will Jimin lose himself too?

No. He refuses to believe he could ever do this. There's no way Jimin would let himself be so blind. He may be willing to stay instead of whatever the alternative would've been, but that doesn't mean he will let himself become so involved. He couldn't. Not when he is so aware of what it all feels like.

The others around him have started to stir as well and Jimin decides to let himself at least sit up. The metal underneath creaking with each movement. His muscles are screaming at him to stay down, to give them rest. Jimin pities them for a moment. How foolish to think there will be any rest for him.

There's little talking between the group locked in the cell. Jimin figures they realized by the end of the day it wouldn't matter, no words could comfort one another right now.

It's just a few minutes and they're all awake. Bodies starting to follow a new internal clock after being woken up at the same time every day. He doesn't know what time, just has a feeling it's the exact same as it was the last few days.

Just like clockwork, Seokjin is at the door. Unlocking and opening it with few loud scrapes and screeches. He walks in with an aura of confidence Jimin has never seen on him before. In an outfit so unlike his usual.

No crisp white lab coat adorning his broad shoulders and his stethoscope nowhere to be found. The black dress slacks are the only familiar thing about him. The all black continued down to his dress shoes up to his nicely pressed button down and suit jacket. The only color to be seen adorn his arms, small pink flowers connected by silver, sparkling vines.

Seokjin truly looked stunning. He smiles a bit, possibly noticing the stares and enjoying the attention a bit. He doesn't verbally acknowledge this though, “Good morning. Hope you got some rest. You'll need it for today. We are going to put all of your trainings to use today for your potential masters to see, and they will choose who they desire to help them.”

Jimin scoffs internally. Help? Seems like a word that implies volunteering. He never did. He didn’t see a sign on some pin board at a coffee shop and decided to give it a shot. None of them there did. Jimin bites his tongue though. ‘Proper slaves’ don’t talk back. He’s seen a few of his peers suffer through beatings for doing so. Seokjin never asked for this either.

“We will be taking a few of you at a time to get cleaned up and dressed up for your auditions. After you all have completed the transformation stage you will form a straight, single line and keep your hands folded and head bowed. There is no specific order, so you may stand where you please. We will walk in together. You will line up so you are then side by side and facing the crowd. Do not make eye contact and, as one unit, you will sit in the proper position until it is your turn. Min-sunbae will also have a list of your names so he can make sure we have covered all of you. I call at random so be listening. After I inform the buyers about who you are and what you do you will perform your individual skill, whatever that may be,” Seokjin finally stops and Jimin’s head is spinning.

He is trying to process all of the information and rules being continually thrown at him. He finds himself becoming nervous. What if he messes up? What happens if he forgets to thank this Min-sunabe? If that ruins his chance of being purchased where does he go from there, do they kill unwanted slaves?

Jimin doesn’t get much time to build onto these thoughts before his name is called. His feet carry him even though his brain didn’t register the action. He reaches Seokjin at the same time another man does and Jimin can’t give a name to match this face. He’s taller than Jimin, but thinner. Not anywhere near scrawny, just a bit less muscle on his bones.

He doesn’t bother returning the slight bow of his head. No need for those formalities now. He avoids starting conversation as they follow Seokjin down the long dark hallway they were kept in. Figures they are meant to stay silent anyway. He keeps his eyes locked on the only exit, a set of cement stairs at the end. He can barely make out the bottom three stairs, but it’s better than looking to his left and seeing the black metal doors there. Than being brought back to his first day leaving that room, knees shaking and black and blue. Sick to his stomach from seeing Taemin’s eyes fade as he died that night.

Jimin hopes he never has to see it again.

The room he ends up in is brighter than what Jimin's eyes have become accustomed to and he has to squint to find the chair Seokjin asks him to sit in. Seokjin keeps himself mostly hidden behind the door and blocks any view the other man may have of this new place. Jimin decides not to ask why and instead tries to take in the space around him.

He's thankful he can barely make out himself in the mirror in front of him, doesn’t want to see how worn out he looks. He would like to be able to get a good look at the new person in the room, though. Feels like he is at a disadvantage that they can see him and he can barely see them. All he can tell is that the woman behind him is small and pale.

“Alright Jimin, I'm leaving you in the hands of Park Sun-Young. She is going to help clean you up and make you more presentable to the suitors, we will be across the hall. Once you are done I will switch you out and take you to change,” Seokjin closes the door as he finishes speaking, but Jimin doesn't bother looking anyway. As his vision clears he finds he can't stop staring at this woman.

Jimin watches her red lips as she smiles, says hello and explains what is going to be happening to him. Her voice is light and smooth. He finds he wants to listen to it all day, “Jimin, we will start with moisturizing your skin and making sure you look hydrated and healthy. Then we will do some light makeup to cover up any blemishes and accent some features. Sound okay?”

Jimin thinks he should be put off by the question. Be angry that she make a it seem like he could tell her no. Yet, right now he feels warm and content, so all that leaves his mouth is, “sounds perfect.”

She smiles at him in the mirror and he feels his heart flutter. The sloppy half smile he gives back makes him look almost drunk. Sun-Young works quickly and, for the most part, silently. She asks questions here and there. Nothing too personal. Mainly about where he is from, what his hobbies are, and so on until she asks if he is nervous about what is to happen later for him.

Jimin finds himself answering with giggles and short answers, until she gets to the last one. If he had been asked yesterday, or even this morning, he would have answered yes immediately. He thinks about it for a few minutes, trying to find the feeling of uneasiness that he had stored in the pit of his stomach, but it’s gone. He is honest when he tells her, “no. Well, not right now. Not anymore.”

“Good.” Sun-Young looks pleased with this answer. If Jimin were to analyze it further he might even say she looked smug, but he feels so fuzzy and warm that he can’t focus on certain thoughts for too long. Except for how beautiful she looks. His eyes trace every movement she makes as grabs brushes he has seen before, but doesn’t care to remember each name of. There’s a blur of skin colored bottles, rainbow covered palettes, and an assortment of glitters.

Jimin can’t even place which colors have made their way onto his skin. Each time he attempts to focus her hands find a new place on the skin of his neck, face and arms. With each touch he feels an intense heat that rushes through his veins and finally rests low in his gut. It’s when she moves from his face to his neck and collarbones that he realizes he is actually getting hard from this.

He forces his eyes shut and tries to fixate on any other thought than the feel of her skin and the brush on his skin, or the feel of her breath on his skin and the smell of her vanilla and cinnamon perfume. He pleads with body to calm down. He tries every method, thinking of terrible things, but it’s no use.

He finds the only saving grace he has is that she has remained quiet for the rest of her time working on him and he is more than thankful for this. He’s sure her voice would’ve thrown any chance of willing himself to stay soft out the window.

It’s when Jimin is about to give up and let his body do what it so desperately wants to do when the brush and hands leave his skin. There’s a knock at the door and as his eyes snap open he feels cold as Sun-Young moves back to the corner of the room. He misses the feel of her on him.

He finds Seokjin staring at him as if he expecting something from him. It hits him that he must’ve spoken to him. Seokjin isn’t angry, though, when he has to repeat himself. Instead, his smile tells Jimin he is rather amused by it, “Jimin, let’s go. You’re makeup is complete. I will take you to change now.”

Walking is much more of a disaster than Jimin had thought it would be. His legs are wobbly and he realizes how unsuccessful he was in his attempts. It’s more than apparent he enjoyed his time in that room more than he should have. The man chuckles lightly at him as he moves to take the space on the chair Jimin has just abandoned. However, he can’t bring himself to care. The fuzzy, almost drunk, sensation that clouds his brain blocks any form of embarrassment he should be feeling.

The door shuts as soon as he steps past the door frame and he jumps from the noise. Stumbling from his fear he falls into Seokjin and laughs. He feels himself being manhandled and Seokjin has him shut, half naked, in the next room before his brain catches up to the fact he is in a new place.

Jimin is laying limply on an old, battered couch and he barely notices it is the only piece of furniture in the room. He blinks a few times to help clear his vision and get rid of this swimming feeling he has, but it doesn’t work, “Seokjin-ssi, please. What is… What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry, I’m just helping you change into the designated outfit for the auction” Seokjin starts speaking and Jimin mentally wills him to slow down. Having mercy on him, Seokjin actually does. There’s silence for a few minutes to let Jimin comprehend his previous statement before he continues “As for what is happening to you internally, it is a side effect of being in close to and in direct contact with Sun-Young.”

“Hmm,” the hum is half-hearted and barely registers in his own ears. Even Jimin isn’t sure if it’s more of a question or just verbal acknowledgment that he actually was listening to Seokjin speak. He’s confused, “But...it didn’t feel like this when… I feel so good, so happy. Not numb.”

Seokjin sighs and stops momentarily in his struggle to remove Jimin’s pants, “That’s because she can’t make you feel that way. What you felt the night you were gathered was due to a power only vampires have. Even then, not all of them can do that. It’s quite rare that one can do that to someone.”

Jimin tilts his head at Seokjin in a way he thinks expresses that he still doesn’t understand without having to voice it. It’s easier than trying to form words that he can’t find. He doesn’t know what to ask. He doesn’t know why he is so lost right now. All he knows for sure is that these vampires make him feel empty and Sun-Young made him feel so light and free.

“Sun-Young isn’t a vampire, Jimin, she’s a succubus. I’m sure you have heard of them before, they’re quite prominent creatures in history,” Seokjin stands and turns to the large built-in closet behind him. He looks at a tag on the first outfit and moves it immediately. Even though it looks identical to the next. He does this a few more times until he stops and pulls out what must be Jimin’s.

He starts speaking again as he brings the clothes over to Jimin, “Succubus feed on your energy. They desire good, sexual energy the most. It’s why their auras make you feel that way. You’ll feel it for a few hours at least. Helps keep you calm for tonight. You have remained relatively calm throughout this so I had you go first. You don’t need the effects as much as the others do.”

Jimin gulps and fixes his gaze on the glossy, dark wooden floor, “She can do that even if…” Jimin furrows his brow, he doesn’t like that his mind keeps wandering. That he can’t even finish a sentence. It’s a minute before he manages to get himself back on track, “even if I’m not into girls?”

“It seems to be working on you, so I guess it doesn’t matter what your preferences usually are,” there’s a bite to this remark and Jimin can see this bothers him, “Now, let’s get you dressed. It only takes her 20 minutes to do what she needs to do and we are almost out of time.”

Jimin might be clueless to a lot in this state, but he recognizes the conversation has been ended. He doesn’t know what he might want to ask, but he knows better than to try and push. He follows the subtle command and stands back up. Seokjin at least has the decency to turn away as Jimin removes his underwear to put on the new pair provided for him.

He manages not to trip and fall as he puts on the loose black dress pants and he feels a slight sense of accomplishment in this. He’s lucid enough to not need help zipping and buttoning his bottoms and by the time he slides the thin, white shirt over his head he finally doesn’t feel like he might topple over at any second.

He isn’t surprised at the absence of shoes. They took his own while he was unconscious the night he was taken and he hadn’t been given any since. It makes sense to him in a way he wishes it didn’t. With no shoes they’re less likely to try and run away. Who knows where they are and running through whatever lies outside while barefoot is a bad idea. You wouldn’t get very far with whatever nature has out there, and with whatever they have placed out there to stop you.

“I’m dressed,” Jimin’s voice comes out clear this time and he’s happy he isn’t slurring his words like he was before. The smile on Jin’s face as he turns back around lets Jimin know he is glad that has stopped as well. Jin steps forward and picks up one last piece of fabric Jimin must’ve glossed over in his struggle to dress himself.

Jin takes the long white strip and wraps it lightly around Jimin’s neck and Jimin hears himself gasp lightly. The bite that was once prominent on his neck has faded into nothing more than some scabs and a bruise. It no longer burns when moved or touched, but it’s still sensitive to the touch. He hopes it doesn’t scar.

Jin doesn’t seem to register this noise or doesn’t care to comment on it. He keeps tugging and maneuvering the fabric into some sort of bow. To keep his mind off the sensations on his throat he looks about the room to find anything else to focus on. It’s then that his eyes land on Jin.

Jimin isn't sure how he had missed it before now. The mark on his neck not something you would have to be close to notice. The dark purple and blue bruise surrounds a perfect molding of scabbed over teeth marks. All of this being consumed a slight yellow hue. Jimin can’t help but notice how Jin must’ve had this for almost as long as Jimin has had his, but Jin’s looks so much angrier anymore.

Jimin can’t stop his hand as it reaches out and traces the untouched skin underneath Jin’s wound. The hands that were roaming and erasing any creases by smoothing out Jimin’s shirt stop abruptly. Jin’s whole body shutters from the contact and Jimin realizes he has probably overstepped some sort of boundary, “I’m sorry. It just looks so- I’m sorry they were angry enough to hurt you like that. I know- Well, it’s not exactly painful is it, but after it hurts and-”

Jin grasps the wrist attached to the hand that has touched him and shushes Jimin’s ramblings. There’s amusement in his eyes as he tries to explain it to Jimin, “You’re fine. Have to say I wasn’t expecting you to touch me, but you’re okay. I asked for it to be there. Mine is a bit more intense than yours, but that’s for a multitude of reasons. You were subdued. My master was feeding. Sometimes the bite is a bit harder than expected.”

Jin takes advantage of the sudden silence to change the subject. Jin tightens his grip on Jimin and pulls him to the door. For a second Jimin assumes they are leaving until he hears Jin tell him he looks perfect. He hadn’t noticed it in his pheromone drunk state, but now he can see the whole back of this door is a giant mirror.

As he steps into view he can finally see what has been done to him. The outfit is loose fitting, even on his muscled frame. The shirt sits low on his chest and much of his shoulders and collarbones are visible. The bow around his neck covers the bite on his neck and he thinks it must be more desirable to not see someone else’s mark on what you want to be yours.

There’s a sheen and some glitter highlighting his neck, chest, and cheeks. He looks healthy and awake, two things he is sure the makeup is helping to portray. Not much else has been changed, his dark hair still a bit tousled from sleep, but he guesses that’s not an issue since no one has changed it. The only noticeable change is the deep red color adorning the skin around his eyes.

Now Jimin understand what Seokjin meant by ‘perfect’. He isn’t anymore good looking than he was before. Sure, he looks more presentable than before, but not head turning. No, Jimin looked ‘perfect’ because he finally looks the part. He looks good enough for someone to want to purchase. He is officially what they want: a traditional slave.

There's no more talking between the two as Jin takes Jimin’s old clothing and tosses them into a large bin by the door as they exit. They meet the other man in the hallway. He's swaying a bit and Jimin can see he is right. There is no difference in what is now covering their bodies.

Jimin is thankful the other is still too out of it as they are brought to another room. Like the others, there isn't much to this room. Just a few lights hanging from the ceiling, another door on the far side of the adjacent wall, and some chairs forming a few rows in the center of the room. He laughs internally, ‘welcome to your graduating class, Jimin.’

He takes a seat at the front, but in the chair farthest from the door he assumes they will go through next. He knows there isn't much of a point to trying to hide from this now. It's going to happen whether he wants it to or not and he won't go in as a coward, hiding in the back. But he also knows this is his last time sitting as a, somewhat, free man. And he wants to cherish that feeling as long as he can.

It turns out to be a bit longer than expected. There might not be an extremely large amount of them, but with Seokjin only taking two at a time it takes more time than Jimin thought it would. He's stopped caring to look back to see each giggling, love drunk pair stumble in behind Jin and be left to wobbly pick their spots in the room. Instead he stares at the chipping grey paint on the wall ahead of him.

Jimin can tell it's been hours since he was brought to this room and the muscles in his back and thighs are starting to ache from lack of movement. Another creak of the door and Jimin sighs. Simultaneously wanting this wait to finally be over and never wanting these moments of freedom to end.

He gets half of his wish when Seokjin takes a stand at the space directly in front of the newly formed audience, “We are officially ready to start transporting you into the main auction room. It is imperative that you keep your head bowed and eyes off of those around you. I am aware there will be countless of new faces around you and they will be looking at you. You are in no place to look back at them, understood?”

The only reply is a pitiful combination of murmured yes’s and barely coherent hums. It seems Seokjin takes whatever he can get from them and he is moving on, “Alright. Well, there’s no more time to waste. You are all set and they are ready for you now.”

With those final words they are gestured to stand and luckily they end up in a nice single file line. They walk through the door and down a corridor. This one much nicer than the ones before. These floors are hardwood and well polished. The walls are still a dark grey, but these are well kept and painted, not cracked blocks of cement.

Jimin just remembers to keep his head bowed as he marches forward toward the end. The room they enter is vast in size and the lights, while bright, are still only a soft yellow glow. Jimin can feel the eyes looking in their direction. Can feel hunger behind it. Shit, now he can feel the panic that left his body hours before.He listens to Jin though, not taking his eyes off of the feet moving in front of him.

He guesses they have reach some sort of middle of the room when Jin orders them to stop, to turn once to their left, and then, louder this time, to assume the proper position. Without fail Jimin and the others around him drop to their knees. There is no hesitation as they reply in unison, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The silence in the room is deafening and Jimin can feel his heartbeat quicken. He doesn’t understand why he feels upset about not receiving some sort of recognition for doing a good job. These vampires made these stupid rules and he is, the slaves are all performing them properly. They should at least be happy for that.

Jimin can see Jin’s legs as they move forward and he joins them on the floor. There are no words, but the action speaks loud enough. This is where Seokjin’s authority ends. He is handing over the slaves and whatever fate has in store for them is now out of his control.

The voice that Jimin hears next is deep and, in an odd way, soothing, “Welcome everyone, to this season’s auction. Whether you are purchasing or just watching for the evening your continued support in this process is always appreciated. Thank you, Kim Seokjin of the Kim Namjoon household. Once again, you have done well at selecting from and training this seasons gathered.”

Jimin can barely see Seokjin move to bow lower, but the reply is strong and clear, “Thank you, sir. It is an honor to help serve.”

“I am sure we all remember the rules, but just to be on the safe side we shall go over them quickly. No bidding until after all the introductions have been completed. Each potential has a starting bid of 150,000₩, there are no exceptions. All offers must be serious and the winner must pay upfront for their purchase, are we all clear?” The voice is slow and smooth like honey. The tone the only reason Jimin knows he isn’t playing around.

The silence is back and gone again in moments and the man must take it as a resounding yes. With that he clears his throat and addresses the crowd again, “Alright. With that being said, Kim Seokjin you may rise. It is time for this evening to begin. Call forward your first introduction.”

Jimin listens to the first several to be called up. He isn’t bothered but a lot of the information Jin reads aloud. Their names, birthdays, hometowns and blood types all seem relevant to the situation, but once Jin lists the amount of past partners and sexualities to the group Jimin already feels exposed.
The next part is Jin tells is the individual talent. So far he has heard a couple singers and listened to someone draw, one person play a guitar, another person explain a dish they can cook, and a few other talents. He is almost so caught up in taking it all in that he barely hears Jin call, “Park Jimin.”

He rises to his feet fast and takes a few steps forward to meet Jin, his heart racing being at the center of all of this attention. He makes it to Jin’s side and Jin immediately starts the individualized introduction speech he has already done in various forms countless times tonight, “This is Park Jimin from Busan. He was born on October 13, 1995, making him, as of today’s date, 22 years old. He stands at about 174 centimeters and weighs 61 kilograms. His blood type is A.”

Jimin can feel the blood rush to his cheeks. He knows what is coming out next and he isn’t sure how he has felt about it. Sure, there were a few men before him that had male partners and one girl had both men and women, but he didn’t want his own information out there like that.

He can’t stop it though, all he can do is sit back and let it all happen. That’s exactly what happens as Jin rambles on, “He has cleared all blood, health and physical tests. Park Jimin has only ever been with 2 partners in his life, both being male. He is also a dancer and that is the talent he will be showing you tonight.”

With that Seokjin scurries out of Jimin’s way. At first Jimin is stumped, standing there confused on what to do for them. There is no music for him to follow, and that’s not necessarily an issue for him, but the lack of noise besides his own rapid heartbeat isn’t helping him calm down enough to remember a routine.

He breathes deeply a few times and forces himself to focus. He can't choke now. Not after losing Taemin and going through all of that testing and training. Jimin uses this new found inspiration to push himself to start moving. His body before his mind has decided on the dance. The last dance he ever did with Taemin.

His body turns and moves almost on its own accord and Jimin just lets it. Knows that if he lets himself think he might lose his tempo or even his motivation to keep going. He comes to the end of the routine faster than he anticipated he would and once he finishes the last move and poses he realizes just how much of mistake he has just made.

The dance isn’t the issue for him. He thinks Taemin would’ve been proud of how well Jimin executed each part of it, especially without music. No, Jimin’s mistake followed immediately after his performance. His eyes had not only landed on a target much higher than the ground, he finds himself staring up, into the balcony before him. Directly into the eyes of a pale, blond man.

He keeps his eyes on him for a few moments as the situation dawns on him and then he thrusts his gaze to the floor beneath him. Seokjin rushes him back his spot and the action further solidifies how much Jimin just messed up. There’s a long list after him, but Jimin can’t hear a thing. The voice in his head yelling at him for making a mistake like that.

He’s sure what just took another hour for everyone else passes by in mere minutes for him as Seokjin concludes the introductions. There’s not much time to rest as Seokjin goes right back to the top of his list and calls out each one of them again and the bidding begins.

Jimin has seen a few auctions in his past, but has seen enough to know that this is very calm compared to others. There isn’t intense shouting for each presented person. One person bids and then there is a pause and then someone else bids. He hears a trend in their bids though. They always start so close to the starting bid, but eventually it rises. They all end around 1,000,000₩.

This time when his name is said he hears it right away and it takes all his will power not to jump. He is anxious as the first few seconds that normally already contained a bid or two was filled with nothing. No one was bidding. Jimin wouldn’t be purchased and they would kill him because he was too stupid to follow one simple rule.

“150,000,” this voice was light, but rough. Definitely the voice of a man and a gruff one at that. Jimin isn’t sure how, but he can tell that he doesn’t want this man to win. However, he is more relieved that somebody placed a bid over scared of what life with this owner could be like.

Within a few moments there is a second bid and Jimin almost chokes on air. The deep voice from before barks out a number so high Jimin thinks that he can’t possibly be serious, “1,000,000,000₩. My first and final bid. Any other bids?”

There is a hushed murmuring that spread from one side of the room to the other and Jimin knows that this isn’t something that normally happens. Besides the quiet buzzing from people in shock, there isn’t another bid. No one takes on the highest bid Jimin has heard so far. Jimin knows this is it. This is the voice of his new master. The man running this entire evening. That can’t be a good sign.

It’s finally confirmed as Seokjin announces, “Sold for 1,000,000,000₩ to Min Yoongi.”

Jimin keeps thinking about it through a dozen more of the others are sold off. Min Yoongi...why does that name seem so familiar to him. As it clicks in his mind he feels the weight of it sink low into his gut. This must be the Min-sunbae Seokjin had mentioned before.

Jimin decides to risk a look at his new owner. I mean, he is already purchased after all and if all purchases are final he will just deal with the consequences of breaking the rule twice later. He waits until the bidding is over, thinking that is when this Min Yoongi may speak again and Jimin can take a good look at him.

He is correct. After the last slave is auctioned away Seokjin goes back to his place kneeling in front of them and the voice from beginning starts to tell everyone where to place their money and that once they have done that they may collect what is now rightfully theirs.

Jimin lifts his head up just in time to see the man he looked at during his performance ending his speech to the others. He feels his heart sink and he forces his head back toward the ground and accepts the truth. There’s a pin prick feeling in his eyes and he wills himself not to cry. His breath is short and shallow.

Not only did he break a rule, he broke it by looking at probably one of the most important people in this room. Maybe even in their whole species. His vision is becoming a bit blurry as his mind is traveling a mile a minute thinking of how in trouble he is. With a bid as high as that there is no doubt in Jimin’s mind he was bought to make him pay and learn from his insubordination this evening. He is going to put Jimin through hell for this.

He can see the black pants and shoes walking hastily into his peripheral vision and he simultaneously feels the need to grovel at his feet for forgiveness and to run. It takes everything in him to remain still. He holds his breath as the feet stop directly in front of him, “Park Jimin. I believe you are coming with me.”

Chapter Text

The murmuring may be around 30 minutes behind them now, but Yoongi can still feel the ringing in his ears from it. He knows what the chattering was about. Everyone letting their ignorant opinions out. Talking about his choice to purchase the boy in the seat next to him.

Their driver has been good to keep the radio almost completely off, only a few notes find the ability to be heard over the sound of the engine and tires moving on wet pavement. He’s finally keeping his eyes to himself as well. The habit he began forming was stopped quick by a stern look from Yoongi in the rear view mirror. Even the help are questioning what's going to happen once Yoongi gets Jimin behind closed doors.

Idiots, Yoongi thinks, all of them. So bored in their own lives to create wildly wrong visions and ideologies of someone else’s fate. Yoongi even caught Namjoon and his pet, Seokjin, sharing hushed words over the event. As if this distraction can ease the tension of what is going on in their home. If they were smart they wouldn’t need to build such fantasies. They’d know what is to happen once the pair reaches Yoongi’s home.

The streetlights are few and far between, but Yoongi doesn’t need them anyway. Apart from a few glances to his left he keeps he gaze primarily on what he can see of the road before him. His sight in the darkness is not much better than a human’s, but his hearing makes him a much more capable predator. He doesn’t need to see Park Jimin’s face to know how he is handling this all. Humans can lie by keeping emotionless. But Yoongi can hear different. From the shallow breaths just covering the sound of an erratic heartbeat he knows the boy is terrified.

Yoongi is aware he could ease the tension, but the driver isn’t his regular and he does have an image to uphold, so he lets the the boy sit in his anxiety. He spends his last few minutes of the drive fixated on the thrum of Jimin’s heart. The sound has become clearer, but still as quiet to him as it had been before. He grits his teeth as the car comes to a stop at the end of his driveway, his door opening to the path to his door. Yoongi wants the sound to be louder, and he knows it will be. Knows it’ll take time before it’ll be the loudest noise in his head. Before Jimin lets him feed.

It has always amazed Yoongi that one bite, one taste, and he will forever be in tune to the heartbeat next to him. It will always be the loudest noise in the room, so intense that he could visualize every pathway, learn any and every unique quality. He’ll be able to pick Park Jimin out of a thousand other people. While he doesn’t quite understand why, biology never really intrigued him that much, he does know the shiver down his spine means he likes it.

“Thank you for your service,” Yoongi takes the wadded up cash in his pocket and pats it onto the mans shoulder. He doesn’t say anything else, simply opens the door to get out and motions for Jimin to do the same.

While hesitant, Jimin follows suit and once again there is no words between them. Yoongi turns toward the house and he hopes Jimin is smart enough to not need another sign to follow him. He’s thankful when he hears the sound of feet fall into step behind him. He’s not regretting this impulsive purchase as much as he thought he would have earlier this evening.

Once inside and the lights are on he finally turns to take a full look at Jimin. He stands unsurely by the door. By all standards he is in some sort of trained and ‘proper’ stance, but Yoongi can tell he is debating on something internally. Whether it’s about running away or simply if he should be kneeling instead, Yoongi isn’t all that interested in these things at the moment.

Instead he wants to see that face again. Up close, and on purpose, this time. He chuckles and is glad the shorter boy doesn’t flinch like most others do, “Now, Park Jimin, if you don’t plan to keep formalities in public, there is no need to try and hold onto them now.”

When the boy makes no sign of moving Yoongi decides he might need to clarify, “You may look up, Jimin, I may be ancient, but I’m not barbaric. You don’t need to keep your eyes at your feet.”

Once again Jimin remains motionless, so Yoongi chooses a new approach. One that he isn’t very sure he likes himself. He steps forward, taking caution to move slowly, not wanting to give any more reasons for this boy to be scared, “Look, I’m gonna touch you now, okay? You can speak.”

“O-okay, master,” his voice is light and soft. Much kinder than his built frame hints at. Yoongi lets himself stop about an arms length away. He reaches his hands up and gently places them on the space of skin where Jimin’s jaw connects with his neck. He tips his head up slowly, and Yoongi bites his lips as he gets to take in the beauty he saw earlier. Jimin was almost too pretty for words.

Yoongi notes that even with the makeup the boy looks tired. The skin just under his eyes slightly darker than the rest. Moving his eyes lower he can’t help but stare at Jimin’s plump, pink lips. Such a good choice Yoongi had made earlier. Just as beautiful across the room as a few feet away from him.

“There we are, now, isn’t that better?” He makes himself remove his hands and places them back at his sides. There’s a confused look to Jimin’s eyes and Yoongi supposes he could answer a few questions, but first he thinks it’d be better to show him around a bit first.

Jimin takes the offer to tour his new home, but Yoongi is aware Jimin feels he can’t really refuse. They move from the entrance hall to Yoongi’s library before Yoongi feels the time is right, “I’m sure you have questions, you may ask them at any time.”

“Yes, master,” Jimin bites his bottom lip as his eyes scan the room around him. There’s not much else in the room apart from the mahogany shelves and books with worn out spines. The only other additions are a fireplace, a small side table, and a plush black chair. “Have you read all of these?”
Yoongi might not admit it later, but the question makes him smile fondly. Is the boy really so much more interested in how much Yoongi reads rather than what Yoongi is? “Yes, I have read most of them. Some of them I got from a friend who traveled abroad, I’ve been meaning to find the time to learn the languages, but I haven’t had the time. English is rather tricky some times.”

“But, I’m sorry master, don’t you have all the time to learn?” Jimin’s eyes widen, must think what he asked might be considered rude, “Not that I mean you’re lazy or anything, I just mean-”

“You just mean that I’m immortal so I should’ve found some time by now. It’s okay, I suppose that’s true, but between my night and day jobs sometimes I can’t bring myself to want to try,” he gives Jimin a moment or two to think of anything else to ask before he has them continue on. Next is through his study, which he informs Jimin it’s in his best interest to knock if the door is closed. This is followed by the living room, and then finally, the combination room. His kitchen and dining room.

“Sir, do you ever use these rooms? Seokjin had mentioned dinners...do you host these too?” There’s what Yoongi has been waiting for.

“Occasionally. It’s only fair that we all take turns, but I prefer not to. I’m not really one who likes the company,” Yoongi’s reply causes a crease to form on Jimin’s brow, “What? Not everyone likes to be surrounded by other people.”

“It’s not that, master, I just don’t understand. If you like to be alone, why do you buy slaves?” Jimin doesn’t look offended that Yoongi may not really want him around, which is honestly a reason Yoongi wasn’t sure he made the right decision tonight. Jimin is quiet so far. And wonders about things Yoongi doesn’t think he would care to know about and all of it makes him think this whole thing can’t be that bad.

Yoongi crooks the side of his mouth up in a lazy smirk, “Well, if it means anything, you are the first slave I’ve purchased in quite some time. I don’t tend to eat as frequently as others of my kind, and even then there are places I can go. Alternatives aren’t so bad.”

Jimin’s face contorts completely at this. Yoongi can see a mixture of emotions. Sadness and anger lay within confusion. Jimin chews on his lip a bit before he speaks up again, “Then… why did you buy me?”

The half attempt at a smile disappears from Yoongi’s face as he thinks it over. He wasn’t exactly thinking of why when he had decided he needed to have the boy standing in his kitchen now. However, it seems quite obvious to him now, “Well, not many are brave enough to break the rules so openly. Especially not with me. I supposed part of me was put off, but a bigger part of me respected it. Even in a situation like that you still had some defiance in you, whether you knew it or not. I still believe there is now. I’m intrigued by you Jimin.”

He only stops for a second before he lets himself ramble again, “I’ve had slaves so terrified of me before. So afraid of any of us. They served without question, but not just for me. They jumped at the command of anyone that told them to. I’m not one for sharing, Park Jimin. I don’t intend to have that happen again. You don’t seem like the type to let that happen.”

Yoongi studies Jimin’s body language and face hard after he tells him what he wants to know. He sees the tension in his shoulders falter a bit, allowing him to almost ease them back to normal. If Yoongi is as good at reading people as he thinks he is then he takes the blushing of cheeks and the gleam in his eyes as Jimin being pretty proud of himself.

“Now, let’s move along shall we. You’ll get more acquainted with these rooms tomorrow,” Yoongi motions for Jimin to follow him, continuing his lame attempt at a grand tour.

Jimin follows quietly for a few moments. It takes viewing the bathroom, heading upstairs and passing a closed door before he hears that sweet voice again, “Sir, why aren’t we seeing that room?”

“That room is off limits, nothing in there is for you or for your benefit. I ask you kindly to not enter that room, this is your only warning. If I catch you in there I will not be happy,” Yoongi moves to stand between Jimin and the dark stained wood, he looks down at Jimin and hopes his face is menacing enough to get the message, “and neither will you after I get done with you.”

There’s a flash of fear that strikes down Jimin‘s face before it scrunches up in amusement. Not the reaction Yoongi wanted, but he finds himself wanting to understand what is going on. It’s when Jimin begins to giggle that Yoongi snaps, “I just threatened you, what could possibly be so funny?”

“Is this your ‘west wing’?” Jimin slightly looks as if he has lost it. With the mix emotions he must be feeling in the past few hours alone, Yoongi doesn’t blame him for the outburst. Yoongi just doesn’t understand what he means.

Yoongi racks his brain for any sort of idea to help him solve this puzzle. He knows whatever it is it’s funny enough to make his angry demeanor look like a joke as well. Jimin takes another look at Yoongi and his puffed up shoulders, and it only spurs on another small fit of laughter.

The small outburst isn’t intentional, but as angry as Yoongi gets about sharing, he is even more enraged about being left in the dark, “What?”

Jimin manages to stop his giggling and only a small part of him hints that he might be sorry about it, “I just mean, master, that with the seclusion, the puffed up chest, and banned rooms it sort of makes it all seem like I’ve walked in to Beast’s castle. Next thing I know I’ll be thinking the plates are talking to me.”

To say Yoongi feels kind of stupid he didn’t recognize the children’s movie reference is a bit of an understatement. It doesn’t stop him from chuckling himself. “See, Park Jimin, this is why I think this ‘partnership’ between us will work so nicely.”

“That doesn’t happen, right? The thing with the plates?” There’s a suddenly serious tone and Yoongi almost lets himself laugh loudly in Jimin’s face, until he continues, “That was stupid, sorry Master, I just learned about vampires this week and then I met a succubus today. Just not sure what’s really out of the realm of possibility anymore.”

“Well, plates are still opinionless, if that’s something you really are concerned about.”

“Okay, so what else exists? Ghosts? Werewolves?”

Yoongi barks out a laugh and bows his head, shaking it back and forth in amusement. As he answers he rubs the pads of his thumb and first two fingers into his closed eyes, “Now, don’t be so ridiculous. No, there’s no ‘Nessie’ or Sasquatch. No spooky ghosts, sex-crazed werewolves, or hungry zombies either. It’s just a small few variations on the human species that are out there with my kind. None of them in that category of silly.”

“Oh,” the bright pink hue of embarrassment tints Jimin’s cheeks and Yoongi feels a warmth flood through him. The darker side of him finding a joy in his predicament, some other, softer side finding it to be rather endearing, “That’s a bit of a relief. Not very fond at the thought of ghosts.”

“Oh, really?” Yoongi muses as he turns and returns to his journey down the hallway, the light footsteps behind him fall back into step with his and Yoongi attempts to joke, “but you’re fine with the concept of vampires and werewolves?”

There’s no audible indication that Jimin found this funny at all, but Yoongi is used to not being the comedic one in a group. So, he’s not really hurt that he didn’t get a reaction. They stop into another bathroom, a full one this time, and then they reach the end of the hall with two closed doors facing each other.

“Now, this room,” Yoongi jerks his arm vaguely toward his left, “is my room. I don’t see why you’d need to see it tonight, but eventually you will go inside of it. When you start your cleaning tasks, that is. I don’t spend much time in there outside of our sleeping cycles, so it won’t need much, just tidying.”

He sees the want to speak in Jimin, but he doesn’t push for it when Jimin decides to stay quiet instead. Jimin simply nods and waits for Yoongi to carry on with his short handed introductions.

“Which means the other is where you will stay. There isn’t much in there, maybe a change of clothes or two. I don’t really have food either. We will go gather these things in the morning. Until then, there are glasses downstairs and clean water. You should drink and rest up. We have much more to go over in the morning,” Yoongi lingers a moment longer than he feels is comfortable and now he can feel the air around them has become a bit tense, awkward. There’s no real way to wish someone you own a goodnight without feeling a bit creepy.

Yoongi is grateful Jimin’s appetite for knowledge is as vast as it is. He doesn’t hesitate to break the silence they fell in to, “What time should I be up, Master?”

“You may sleep as long as you need. There’s no rush, but it is your food and clothing that we are obtaining, so the longer you put it off the longer you don’t have them,” Yoongi shrugs in a cringey attempt to appear casual and indifferent about it. He follows this by turning swiftly and quickly moves back toward his ‘west wing’. The pace may be due to running from his previous action, but he’ll never let Jimin on this information.

“Master,” He hears Jimin call out after him, his voice stopping Yoongi dead in his tracks. He doesn’t fully turn back toward his slave, but he twists his head to the side enough to show he is listening, “you trust me enough to leave me alone?”

Yoongi could list a handful of reasons why he doesn’t trust that Jimin won’t try leaving at some point, but Yoongi has to admit that at least since he asked he could possibly warn him why he shouldn’t. Then again, his threatening didn’t exactly go as planned last time, “There are no alarms Jimin, I expect you will try. You won’t get far. We are miles from the next house, which may or may not be people of my kind.You’d have to get past me to get to the only exit of this house and, as I said, I don’t really sleep.”

He lets that settle in the air between them before he finishes it off with, “I’ll also hear you. I can hear the animals outside of our house now, I can hear your heartbeat from here. There’s no place you could run or hide that I wouldn’t hear you. I’ll find you. I’m sorry Jimin, but there’s just no way out of this.”

He doesn’t let the boy even try and reply. He closes the distance between himself and the room he desires to hide in for the night. He shuts the door with a bit more force than he wanted to and he lets himself lean against it for a bit.

Yoongi basks in the feeling of finally being alone. He’s been needing a break from other people for a few hours now. While Jimin isn’t annoying to be around like most others are and Yoongi is happy one of his fears was for nothing, Yoongi feels so mentally drained from the earlier events of the night that he couldn’t handle playing nice for much longer.

There’s a few more heartbeats in the hallway before he hears a soft sigh and the creaking of Jimin’s door opening and closing. It’s a couple minutes after this that he moves to his desk and takes out a blank canvas and waits for the inspiration to find him tonight.

And if while Yoongi is waiting he hears the sound of Jimin finally break and cry himself to sleep, he definitely won’t speak of it to the boy. And out of all the things he won’t admit to and all of the things he has already mentally promised to keep secret from Jimin he puts a thousand imaginary stars next to this one to remember that this one is the most important.

 

-----

Jimin doesn’t wake up in a panic. There’s no rapid heart beat or sweaty palms when he sits up in bed and rubs his hands against his puffy eyes. There’s a light ache to his head, but he is aware that’s from all of the crying he did before his body finally gave in to the rest it needs. He blinks to make his adjust to the light and takes in the view of the morning sky through the window.

It’s still pretty early in the morning from what Jimin can tell, the sun not high enough in the sky to be later in the day. He’s aware that he could have slept longer, but his body has gotten used to waking up at this time and he knows that he has a lot he has to do today. He doesn’t waste time getting himself out of bed and into the small bathroom his room has.

The small amount of items Jimin had been given while he was ‘training’ weren’t sent with him. There’s no spare toothbrush in the cupboard so he makes due with swishing warm water around in his mouth. He tries to wash the remnants of the makeup off of his face with hot water and a towel he found, but it only takes off some foundation and his eyeshadow. There’s still smatterings of glitter all along his face and neck.

He takes a moment once he finishes drying off to stare at himself in the mirror. Just now realizing this is the first time he has been able to look at himself properly since the night he was taken. He actually looks quite healthy compared to back then, but he supposes the well proportioned meals and strict water-only diet might have something to do with that.

He keeps staring as if something will eventually stand out to him. That he will look as different as he feels. That there will be some physical trait that displays how he is a piece of someone's property now. And then he finally sees it. Can’t believe he had previously looked over it before. Right there on his neck.

He leans forward and twists his head to the side to get a better look at the mark that brought him to where he is now. The bruises are yellow and fading, the scabs from each tooth almost completely healed. Just small specks of dark, crusty skin. He grimaces at the sight and covers the mark with his hand.

Thankfully it doesn’t hurt anymore and Jimin hopes this means he will be able to push it out of his mind again soon. He forces himself from the bathroom, knowing he needs to stop wasting time on things he can’t change. But as he looks back at the bed he slept in, reality hits him in a breathtaking wave.

It’s a sudden feeling that he isn’t the first to be in this room. That there was once someone else. Someone who lived out the rest of their days in this room and were now certainly dead. It’s Jimin’s future in a nicely tied bow. How long had this slave lived? How long did they get before they messed up so badly they were sent to their death? Before they were so used up they weren’t worthy of living anymore?

How long did Jimin have?

Jimin can feel his head spinning as he gasps for some air. He needs out of this room before its walls close in on him. He doesn’t waste time trying to find new clothes or his shoes before he is in the hallway. Door slammed and his back placed firmly against it. An attempt to keep those thoughts trapped on the inside with the belongings of a dead man.

Jimin is safe for a moment before he is presented with a whole different kind of panic. He can hear Yoongi’s stern voice from down the hall. He can hear a muffled voice over on the other end of a phone call and even though Jimin can’t hear what’s being said to Yoongi, his reaction is all Jimin has only one guess as to what it is about.

It’s about Jimin. More so, it’s about how he should be punished. Yoongi hums into the phone as the smaller voice continues on and then he can hear Yoongi respond, “I disagree, I think public punishment can be very useful. It helps ensures the ending of a behavior in one individual and can prevent it from occurring with others.”

There’s more from the muffled voice and Jimin can hear the turn in Yoongi’s voice. The anger simmering in the depths of his tone, “Well, he is under my authority, it’s no one's decision but mine to punish him how I see fit. He broke a rule and then treated it all as a joke, he’s lucky a beating in public is all I ask for. I have much more in mind for those who break my rules and I
will use each as I see fit.”

Yoongi listens again and there’s a silence between the two before Yoongi let’s out what Jimin can only call a growl, “With no disrespect, but I think I can determine for myself what is too much. If I need to break fingers or strip ‘em down and humiliate them I will do what I have to to ensure obedience.”

Jimin doesn’t hear the small voice anymore, so Yoongi must have hung up on it. Which doesn’t mean much to Jimin right now. He replays the words over in his head. So he was gonna be punished for yesterday’s mistake. Then he thinks about later on. He gulps at the memory of laughing in his Masters face. Laughing at his subtle threat at Jimin.

If staring him down could warrant being hit in public Jimin shivers at the idea of what might happen because of his later mistake. Jimin wishes he could take it back, but he doesn’t think he could have stopped himself. He was just feeling too much at once. He was terrified of what this man wanted to do to him, he was sad over losing his freedom, and he was angry. So angry at these people for picking him. If he hadn’t laughed over the secret room it would’ve been over something else.

Jimin feels tears build up in his eyes. The room behind him seeming so much better than being so exposed out in the hallway like this. Even if he had time to disappear back into his bedroom his body seems to freeze up on him and within seconds the door at the end of the hall begins to open.

Once Jimin gets a look at the man, still in the clothes from the night before, his body reacts. His body begins to shake as he sobs out pleas and apologies for his behavior. He drops to the floor into the kneeling bow he had been purchased in and continues to let his snot and tears continue to flow out of him, “Please, Master. I didn’t mean to laugh at you. I didn’t mean to-”

“Park Jimin, stop,” he wants to follow the order and really does try. The hand over his mouth only stops the noises so much, though and the deep sigh above him only quickens the pace of his heart, “Stand up.”

Jimin obliges, even if it takes longer than he wanted it to. His knees nearly give out with how much they’re wobbling, but he manages to stay on his feet. He keeps his head slouched forward. Jimin is aware of what he was told the night before, but he’s unable to let himself look at his Master's face again.

The man before him doesn’t move and Jimin thanks all of the stars in the sky. He doesn’t think he can handle any form of physical contact at the moment. Especially if it was in the form of physical punishment. Although he’s prefer that over any sort of verbal lashing. It’s always a bit easier to patch up after a few hits from hands rather than from words. At least the physical wounds tend to heal after some time.

Yoongi doesn’t let him sit in his thoughts for too much longer, “Park Jimin, if I wanted to punish you for yesterday I would have the moment I got the chance to be near you. I told you before we parted ways last night that you seem to intrigue me, why would I do something that may change that?”

Jimin lets himself breathe a bit better. He does remember that. But that isn’t main offense he is thinking about. He brings the sleeve of his shirt up to wipe away the remaining tears in his eyelashes and he suddenly feels like a child. The one who knows taking the toy was wrong and his parents are making him confess to what he did.

Well, here he goes, “I understand, m-master, but shouldn’t I be punished for laughing at you?”

There’s a soft sigh and, to Jimin’s surprise, a light chuckle that replies to him. Yoongi leans forward enough to make his eyes meet where Jimin is looking down. Jimin can see the entertainment on his face, “Can’t say I didn’t think about it, but I thought it through. We will consider the different emotional pressures you dealt with all day and blame them for your brief lapse in judgement.”

He smirks a bit and returns to his normal stance before he says, “Let’s just not have something like that happen again.”

Jimin shivers at the dark tone in his Masters voice, but he still feels himself calm down. That should be easy. He just has to not fuck up again, yeah? He just needs to do what he’s told and follow some rules. If he pictures it as a dance routine in his head he might be able to forget that this is still entirely against his will.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he notes it is futile. It’s all too apparent to him that no matter how well he acts he still dies at the end of this, but he rationalizes that he would rather spend his short time left not suffering from beatings and verbal lashings.

“You haven’t changed. Did you not find something of suitable taste in the closet?” The question brings a tint to Jimin’s cheeks. He mumbles out a sentence describing how he was too scared to think about changing and didn’t check the closet for new clothes. Jimin doesn’t mention that the idea of wearing the clothes of a dead person makes his skin crawl

Thankfully Master Yoongi simply chuckles and assures him it’s okay and gestures for Jimin to follow him, “I’ll help you find something and we will get you some new clothes when we go out.”

Jimin does as told and stands back in the room he escaped as his Master rummages through some clothes in the closet. He stops periodically to hum at an outfit, but then quickly changes his mind and moves through the options some more. It takes about 15 minutes before one seems to appeal to him the most.

The outfit isn’t very glamorous, but much more formal than Jimin likes to wear. The shirt is a black, silk button up with black dress pants. He can’t fully tell by looking, but he isn’t quite sure this will fit well. Yoongi motions for Jimin to hurry up and change and Jimin can feel his face flush, “I-In front of you?”

Yoongi sighs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think you would assume I’m so disrespectful. I’ll go find you some socks and hopefully some shoes that might fit.”

Jimin nods and lets himself examine the outfit a bit closer, tilting his head to hopefully get a glimpse at the shirts size. He sort of blames himself for looking away because the next thing he knows Yoongi is mere inches away from him. He feels a hand lightly grasp his chin and tip his head slightly more to its side. Jimin swears he is losing his mind when he thinks he hears a low growl from his Master. But he realizes it must’ve been real when Master Yoongi grits out, “And I’ll find something to cover...that.”

With that he turns on his heel and leaves the room, pulling the door shut with enough force to cause the frame to sudder. Jimin knows the mark isn’t his fault, but a part of him still feels guilty for it still being there. That somehow he is already failing at being good for Master Yoongi because of his skins inability to heal faster.

He doesn’t waste much time stripping down and pulling the clothes onto his body. He is right about the pants, a bit on the tighter side. He can get them on and they’re not tight enough to be a problem, but he knows that he will only get more uncomfortable as the day goes by. The shirt is smooth as is drags across his skin, but it doesn’t take the itch away from knowing its history.

He decides to leave the last button undone since he isn’t sure how his Master plans to cover the bite. The shirt is much larger than expected and hangs off of him on all sides. Jimin realizes the outfit may have been put together, but they definitely weren’t from the same person. As the thought overtakes his mind he feels the need to get out of the room again.

It’s as he is leaving his room that his master is going to knock on his door. Jimin jumps a bit, putting a hand on his chest while managing to contain the noise that tries to escape from his lips. Yoongi leaves his hand awkwardly in the air just before Jimin’s face before he quickly pulls it to his face and feigns a cough or two.

The silence is thick and tense between them before his Master half heartedly thrusts his arm forward, in it are a pair of black socks, “put these on. Your shoes are by the door. They should hopefully fit.”

Jimin’s hands reach forward softly as he takes them from Master Yoongi. His fingers lightly brush the skin of Yoongi’s hand and Jimin finds he’s pleasantly warm. Not cold and clammy like he thought he would be. Jimin sucks in a breath, just loud enough for the man before him to hear, “What? Never seen black ankle socks before?”

Jimin hates that these little teases bring such noticeable warmth to his cheeks and he wishes he could keep his stupid mouth shut, “You’re so warm.”

There’s no chuckle or smirk this time, all Jimin gets in return is a scoff, “What did you expect? Something that felt cold and dead? We are just as alive as you, ya know?”

Jimin is suddenly staring at nothing but a wooden door as Yoongi makes his way down the hall and Jimin can hear as he almost stomps down each step.

If Jimin didn’t feel so terrified he would almost find the reaction ridiculous. Kind of like someone throwing temper tantrum.

Jimin is quick to follow him, practically running to make sure he gets to his Master in a time that is considered okay. Jimin meets him at the front door, sitting on a small bench as he pulls on some shiny black dress shoes. Jimin goes to sit next to him before he hesitates for a moment. Should Jimin sit next to him?

He goes with the path that says he shouldn’t and waits for Master Yoongi to stand again before he sits down and puts on the socks given to him. He assumes the other pair of shoes on the floor are for him and is pleasantly surprised that they were a pretty close fit.

Once he is at Yoongi’s level again he looks up to find Yoongi’s eyes locked on him. More importantly, on his neck, “Jimin, I’m going to put something on you, is that okay?”

It doesn’t really sound like a question, so Jimin understands he really shouldn’t say no, “Yes, Master, that’s okay.”

Jimin sees the smirk reappear on his Master’s face and feels himself tense as Yoongi moves closer to him. He sees Yoongi dig into his jacket pocket and pull out a piece of thick, black fabric. Yoongi moves at a quick pace, wrapping the fabric around Jimin’s neck and hooking the clasps together, “is that too tight?”

“No, master, it feels fine,” Jimin hears himself reply, but inside his head he feels himself screaming, fighting against a need to rip the offending accessory off of his body. He truly hasn’t felt owned until this moment.

As Yoongi steps back and moves to retrieve a jacket for Jimin to wear he brings his hand up to let his fingers feel the newest addition to his outfit. He can feel Yoongi’s eyes on him as he slides each arm into the coat. he can’t help but look at his reflection in the window on the door as they move out of the house. It might just be some choker from Yoongi’s room, but it sure looks and feels like a collar to Jimin.

Chapter Text

So you can see what we see and hear what we hear; things I look to for inspiration and what I listen to as I write.

 

—Some visuals for you —

 

Dead Leaves:
https://pin.it/gqbxrc4da6owza

Vkook:
https://pin.it/ya7wkzqueg2ow3

Namjin:
https://pin.it/nma7kmcxo5os6a

Yoonmin:
https://pin.it/rx7e6fwrpoecyg

Hoseok:
https://pin.it/f7cvz64obmihlk

 

—Some Music for You —

https://open.spotify.com/user/1250202285/playlist/3YRIZIM5xD51hMMCgIWe95?si=N5lBdHRfRNqWV4cMbqCyFA

 

We will update both of these regularly for you. Thank you.

Chapter Text

Jungkook hadn’t felt this slow since his human days. Having been unconscious and in a hospital bed for a week, he was really itching to just go for a run. Not one of his normal runs, a run run. With sweatpants and running shoes and an iPod. He just needs to move. Get out. Do something.

Jungkook can’t leave though. He’s under lock and key until Dr. Kim gives his stamp of approval. This is stupid. He thinks. He’s a damn vampire, he should be able to heal fast and get back on his feet. Apparently all the human lore about his species is far from accurate.

He opens his eyes, he was keeping them closed while he moped. Taehyung is still sitting next to his bed. He’s been there since he was admitted, at least, he thinks so. He was kind of knocked out when he was admitted. Battered and bruised. Post lesson giving. “Hyung…” Jungkook whines.

Taehyung looks up from his phone, “No, you can’t leave. Dr. Kim hasn’t stopped in yet today.” Jungkook groans and rolls his eyes, “I’m fine though. I want to do something!”

“Well, you should have thought of that before killing another human, Jeon Jungkook,” Taehyung snaps, eyes going back to his phone. “You told me you were ready, you told me you were in control.” Jungkook slumps back onto his bed, “I th-“ he starts, but Taehyung cuts him off.

“You’re lucky he didn’t have you killed. He was lenient by all accounts.” He says, uncrossing his legs and standing up. He leans over Jungkook, eyes darkening, “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you myself. My hands around your neck, slowly cutting off your blood supply, slowly suffocating you…” Jungkook swallows hard, arousal pumping through his veins. He averts his gaze, shying away from Taehyung’s intense stare. He knew he couldn’t be killed by a simple strangulation, but the threat was there.

Jungkook was a relatively new vampire. Still new enough to be susceptible to blood lust. Brand new vamps ran purely on instinct. They couldn’t control their hunger. Lots of “accidents” happened during that time. After about a year, it got easier to control, if they had guidance. Jungkook has been a vamp for almost two years, and he had a pretty good hold of his hunger. But when he got in the heat of the moment, it was hard to stop sometimes. This last time had been his second offense. His first kill was on a training mission, so it was expected. He had been given a target that was expendable. This time, however, he was a fully fledged hunter, so he was supposed to be an expert. He wasn’t. He was supposed to bring the human in alive and well enough. The other one wasn’t even meant to be there.

“I fucked up, I know,” Jungkook whispers, not wanting to incur more of his partner’s wrath. “It definitely won’t happen again. I promise.”

Taehyung chuckles, “Oh, I’ll make sure of that. Can’t have you tarnishing my reputation any longer.” He was the senior of the two, and was in charge of training Jungkook. If Jungkook slipped up one more time, they’d both be dead. The higher ups really didn’t like their laws not being obeyed.

There were a lot of rules to follow in vampire society. When Jungkook first joined the community, he thought it would be pretty relaxed, but there’s a lot that can go wrong if vampires can do whatever they want. His transformation is one of those things. The laws had to be in place so vampires, as well as humans, could be protected.

It’s not like it was hard to hide their society from humans. They were integrated into the very fabric of the human government. They had ways to hide themselves. But when humans ended up dead and exsanguinated, vamps were harder to hide. Taehyung’s job was to train all the new hunters so things like that didn’t happen.

There is a light knock on the door, and Dr. Kim enters. He was the one and only human doctor that tended to vamps. “Ah, you’re awake,” he smiles. Striding over, he grabs Jungkook’s chart and flips through it. “All of your tests came back, and it looks like you’re on the mend. Your internal bleeding has been stopped and your shoulder was relocated.” He returns the clipboard to its hook and looks up, “‘Make sure to take it easy over the next few days, try not to over exert yourself. You just recovered from a pretty intense injury. Don’t give me that look Jeon,” Dr. Kim quips as Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

Jungkook begins to roll his eyes again when Taehyung smacks him on the back of the head, “Stop being a smart ass, Jungkook.” Dr. Kim tries to hide a laugh, and it ends up sounding like a fake cough.

“Try to make it a longer gap between visits, this time,” Dr. Kim quips, walking back to the door. “I do like spending time with you, but I’d rather it in a more leisurely setting. And take it easy,” he gives him a pointed look and leaves.

“He said it twice because he knows you won’t take it easy,” Taehyung chides. He slips his phone into his back pocket and gestures toward the door, “Let’s get going, I want to get some training in before the night is over.” Jungkook sighs dramatically and flings the bedsheet off of his legs. The action causes him to wince, that healing dislocated shoulder is no joke.

“Should we go to the gym?” Jungkook queries, slipping his shoes on. Taehyung narrows his eyes at him, “You can come with me, but you will not be doing anything apart from observing. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” He opens the door for Jungkook, “I want you back in the field as soon as possible.”

They both slip out the door and head down the hospital hallway. They move past human and vampire nurses alike. They could tell who was who because they could hear heartbeats, and the lack thereof. The people who oversaw the hospital were all vampires, so they were sure that the only staff who tended to vamps were need to know. Dr. Kim was owned by Chief Inspector Kim Namjoon, and was revered in the community. Not every vampire was ok with a human being treated well.

As they walk past the main desk, they overhear a judgemental tone. “I’m not surprised it happened again, it’s to be expected from feral-blooded.”

Feral-blooded. It’s what “pure” vamps liked to call the ones who were turned by accident. Ferals were vampires that had no guidance when they were first turned. It’s easy to give into bloodlust and go crazy in the first months. Those that ran purely on instinct and killed without a second thought, they were feral. Not everyone knew Jungkook was turned by a feral. The doctors who were on duty when he was admitted did. He had been rushed to the vampire ER when he was found, and subsequently saved. If he hadn’t had been found, he would be out there, being hunted by Hoseok.

Jungkook feels a hand on his shoulder as his fists clench. The sneer is coming from Dr. Kim Kibum, a centuries old vampire with a truckload of prejudices to go with. He wants to leap over that desk and maul the doctor. He wants to shout every possible profanity he can come up with. He wants to scream and cry. The hand on his shoulder reminds him to keep composure and walk on by. All while a war is raging in his head.

Later that night:

Jungkook can feel the tiny pulses through his skin, as if he is actually vibrating. He can feel the pain from his shoulder and the bruising on his ribs. He knows he shouldn’t have pushed Taehyung like he did. Shouldn’t have pushed him as far, but he wouldn’t get it the way he needs it if he hadn’t.

Jungkook tried to rationalize his “bad behavior” by pushing some of the blame onto the vampire running on rage behind him. Tae really shouldn’t have thought that Jungkook would have listened to their warnings and recommendations. Jungkook was never one to listen to orders well, always being put on some sort of suspension or punishment for bending any rule he could that wouldn’t lead to death.

Jungkook really couldn’t help himself either. Not when Taehyungie was making promises like that at the hospital. Teasing to wrap his hands around Jungkook's throat and not following through. Especially not when pricks like Kibum and Yoongi were still at the forefront of his head.

Jungkook was itching for a distraction, for a release of all the rage and pent up frustration he has been feeling since he woke up in that damn hospital bed. Again. Wants to feel something that isn’t just anger. So, he pushed Taehyung to the spot he needed him in. He disobeyed his orders just enough to put the familiar gleam into his hyung’s eyes.

Jungkook can feel his heart beat faster as he thinks back to everything that look normally brings with it. He can’t help but feel a subtle heat flood outward from his chest to his extremities. He hopes Tae is mad enough to leave bruises this time. Wants the reminder later when he’s left behind as Taehyung gathers without him. So he can pass the time pressing old marks to feel something akin to the sweet pain Taehyung gives him, but it’s never anything like the original. Sure it gets him off, but it doesn’t have him gagging for a release like he wants. What he needs.

Earlier at the Gym

Jungkook knew what he was doing when he batted his eyelashes to get permission to walk on the treadmill. He bargained for that right. Used the argument that walking wouldn’t be too hard on his body, that he had to move to get places anyway so it really wasn’t anything to worry about. He got rolled eyes and a tight “fine” as his response. Just like in any other instance, Jungkook took whatever his hyung was willing to give him.

 

He didn’t push it then, just let himself look mopey and miserable as he barely completed half as many miles as Tae did in the time it took to warm up. It did feel pitiful, but he didn’t want to move too fast too quickly. If he started too heavy he would be caught and they’d leave before he really could get what he was after. It wasn’t until they moved from cardio and legs to upper body that he couldn’t handle sitting and counting reps for Taehyung anymore. Even if he didn’t have another agenda at hand the boredom was enough to have him contemplating scratching his own eyes out.

Tae had just finished on a machine Jungkook knew would hurt like hell, but it was also the perfect one to get the job started. He waited patiently until Taehyung had moved across the gym to collect some wipes to clean off this machine so he could place himself on the seat instead. He leaned back and grabbed the handles, not bothering to adjust the weights even if he knew he couldn’t really handle it with his arm like this. Jungkook didn’t even get a full 5 reps in when he heard the hiss of his name from across the room. To be honest he was kind of thankful. If he hadn’t have been stopped he’s not sure he wouldn’t have thrown up from the pain.

There’s a firm hand on his shoulder before he looks up at his hyung, but he already knew his face would hold anger. It’s not fully etched in though, more like a fire behind his eyes right now. His other features remained calm as he stroked Jungkook’s face and said, “now, Geukkie, you promised you’d be a good boy. This doesn’t seem very good of you to disobey your doctor and me like this.”

Jungkook had felt his mouth go dry as the pet name caused his heart rate to spike for a moment. Hyung only called him that name when he was warning him of what was to come if he didn’t start listening. Jungkook also knew that they both kind of hoped Jungkook wouldn’t. He rarely ever did.

“Sorry, Taehyungie, I was just hoping to see if I still could,” his voice is as pitiful as the words he speaks. His bottom lip poking out just a bit farther than his top to hopefully add just a touch more to his act.

Taehyung definitely doesn’t buy it fully, he can tell in the huff that takes his whole chest to produce and the annoyed gesture to stand up. Tae gives him a warning glance before he moves to clean the equipment. He does it quick and Jungkook realizes it’s to make sure he can keep his eyes on Jungkook. Just in case makes another stupid attempt like that. They finally move on to another machine after a quick moment of eye contact that was heated on both sides. It ends with Jungkook shrugging and Taehyung holding his arm as they move on.

Jungkook pushes his luck a few more times in small ways. He picks up a weight here and there to “examine” them or “put them back and help”. He gets a few pull-ups in before he receives a sharp smack to his rear end and by the time they reach the last machine he can practically feel the anger radiating off of Taehyung. He’s only a bit disappointed that his face has still remained so stoic. Once he breaks that he knows he’s finally won.

This final machine is a bit of a favorite of the pair, one he’s gotten his way on before. The recline and seat large enough to hold both of them together. It’s a nice machine to lay back onto one another and feel the others muscles flex and tense as the other works out. He’s not a stranger to riding his hyung as he lays back on the firm black material either.

Jungkook watched Tae reach forward and grasp the ropes and pull back. He swallowed as he watched the muscles in his hyungs arms and back move as he continues this rowing motion. He bites his bottom lip as the reps come to an end and he knows he only has a few moments of rest before they start up again. Jungkook fumbles a bit as he rushes to take up some of the empty space in front of Taehyung. He quickly reaches forward and takes the handles in each hand and starts moving.

 

He can feel Taehyung’s chest behind him as he does his best to keep rowing. He feels it tense and the lack of breathing or movement makes Jungkook scared for a split second. Taehyung usually freezes before he snaps. It’s like a breath of fresh air when he feels the intoxicating numb sensation take over his limbs. The ropes make a light thump as they clamber onto the floor. His hands no longer were able to keep their hold. Jungkook blames his injuries for being weaker to Tae’s hold than usual.

 

Before he has a chance to collapse onto the floor beside them he feels his shirt bunch up behind his neck. It took his frazzled brain a moment to realize Tae was practically dragging him by his shirt to the changing room. Once his back hit the door and the lock echoed through the empty room he finally felt the numbing sensation had left his body. All he wanted was to grip his throbbing shoulder and cry out in pain, but he wouldn’t do that right now. Not when he finally broke him.

 

Taehyung’s mouth was contorted into a deep frown, his eyebrows scrunched closer together. He was shaking as he brought his hand up to press lightly onto Jungkook’s neck. Tae’s voice would be alarmingly calm to anyone else, which could be confusing, but the firm undertone has Jungkook hard in his sweats, “What a bad boy I have here. What are you trying to do, Geukkie? Such a slut for pain, aren’t you?”

 

Jungkook could feel the anger pouring off of his elder as he held him pinned to the door. Well, not so much ‘pinned’ as being given a firm recommendation to stay put. Jungkook knew he could push it away easily, knew there was no real force behind it. Not yet. Jungkook wasn’t dumb though. He was aware the questions Taehyung asked only really had one correct answer, an answer he could recite in his sleep. The long list of teases that Jungkook would normally throw Taehyung’s way not an option today. Not with his hyung uncharacteristically so close to snapping in public.

It’s not as if they haven’t had some fun in places they could get caught. Hell, it’s not like they haven’t been watched before. Jungkook just hasn’t seen Tae so close to actually losing his temper in a public space like this before. Jungkook’s brain practically short circuited before he could even answer, though. Without warning Taehyung tightened his grip on Jungkook’s throat. His other hand slide down the front of Jungkook’s loose bottoms. The simultaneous sensations of his air supply being cut off and Taehyung’s other hand slowly stroking him sent a strangled moan into the air between them. Tae continued to move his hand up and down Jungkook’s length as he locked eyes with the maknae. If Jungkook wasn’t going dizzy from lack of oxygen he would’ve sworn a smile replaced the frown, if only for a moment, before Tae’s eyes dropped to take in all of Jungkook’s form. To watch the effect his hands were having.

“Always so hard for me, so quickly. Always so ready for me. Bet you’d let me fuck you right here. Right where everyone can hear you. Bet you’d want them to hear you scream out my name,” Taehyung’s words moved straight from his ears to Jungkook’s dick, which twitched in Taehyung’s loose grip. Taehyung licked his lips at the feeling and his eyes shot back to look into Jungkook’s. Tae was quick on the upstroke this time which caused Jungkook’s eyes to roll back and his lips to part in an inaudible gasp. The youngers legs buckled as Tae kept his hand still at the top of his cock, circling the tip with his thumb, “I’ll take that a yes, huh baby? What a good slut you are for me.”

Jungkook nodded his head as best he can with the pressure on his throat, “Y-es, Tae. G-good for y-you. A-always,” it was broken and breathy in reply, but he needed Tae to hear how much he would be good for him. The brat in him not shy in admitting he loved the praise. His hands moved to touch and caress the arm connected to the hand on his throat, only branching out a bit to touch Taehyung’s shoulders and chest.

 

Tae didn’t break in posture or demeanor, but Jungkook could feel the shiver that ran down his hyung’s shoulders. The involuntary action made Jungkook harder, his hips thrusting out to make Taehyung move away from the increasingly overstimulated tip. Tae gave one last slide of his thumb over Jungkook’s slit and began moving his closed fist up and down on Jungkook’s dick again, the hold tighter than before. Movement faster than before. The flicks of Taehyung’s wrist as he moved his hand up mixed with the friction of his sweats against his tip were enough to have precum begin to form and smear onto Taehyung’s hand and the front of his pants.

The laugh Taehyung let out is deep and dark to Jungkook’s ears. The tight coil in his gut twisted tighter at the sound. Jungkook has a thought that he should be embarrassed by how fast the need to cum has overtaken him, but with Taehyung’s increased speed and pressure mixed with the ease of his movements from Jungkook’s leaking tip, he rationalized he really didn’t have a choice.

“Are you close, baby boy? Do you wanna come for me? Think you can be good enough to do that right?” the tone was mocking in nature and, god, being belittled in a public place shouldn’t almost send Jungkook completely over the edge the way it did. The way it always would.

 

Jungkook willed his orgasm away. He knew better than to come before he was told to. He even craved hearing Taehyung give him permission, needed it now to feel satisfied with his release. Just as Taehyung cut off Jungkook’s air supply completely and thumb pressed on the spot to cut off any blood from getting to Jungkook’s brain and Jungkook began to see stars from the high of his adrenaline coursing through his veins and his head felt lighter on his shoulders. Just as Taehyung started to growl that Jungkook could finally reach his release, there was a knock on the door behind Jungkook.

 

Jungkook wanted to smile, finally, a crowd to hear how good his hyung treated him. Someone to hear how much Taehyung owned him completely, but he was brought right down from his high almost immediately. He felt cold and his legs gave out from beneath him. Taehyung’s hands were off of him. He wasn’t going to get to come there. No. As turned his back on Jungkook and goes to their shared locker, he spat at Jungkook, “looks like the universe agrees. Bad sluts have to wait to get a reward.”

Jungkook snarled to himself as he let himself mope on the floor for a few minutes. Back still held the door shut so whoever just fucked him over is still shut out. Jungkook is enraged. Even after all he did all he got was more teasing. What would be have to do to get Tae to just bend him over and fuck him, already? At that point he could lay fully stretched and willing, ass up for him and Tae would rather sit in his anger than take him.

The bangs on the wood behind him only added to the fire boiling under his skin. Jungkook stomped out the idea of attempting to seduce the poor asshole trying to get to their belongings. No need to get Taehyung in trouble for killing some human because Jungkook wanted some dick. Especially after what this last time brought them. Jungkook would never be strong enough to watch Tae lay unconscious in his own blood like he had done for Jungkook.

With a huff Jungkook picked himself up off the floor as soon as he felt his legs again. He barely made progress towards Taehyung when the door burst open to show a disgruntled man. He didn’t say anything openly to either of the two, just grumbled to himself about “dumb kids blocking the door” before he grabbed a small bag and moved toward the showers.

Taehyung chuckled at the mention of the word kids. Kids weren’t a couple decades old. Jungkook would laugh too, if he wasn’t met with a shirtless Tae. The normal spiced, woodsy smell he carried stronger now that the barrier was removed. The sweat from the machines and their interaction by the door still dripping in assorted places from Taehyung’s neck to the waist-line of his gym shorts. Jungkook held himself back from moving down to let his tongue follow the same path down Tae’s body. From dropping to his knees and letting Taehyung fuck his throat for anyone to come in and see.

The thought sure was tempting. Jungkook could come from sucking Tae off alone. Putting on a show of it for others would just make him come harder. Just imagining it then made his blood rush south again. He had hoped Tae didn’t notice his breath hitch or how his heart sped up again, but it didn’t matter. He would notice it all and if not, Tae definitely noticed the way Jungkook swallowed harshly.

Said man’s lips curved up in a knowing smile. Jungkook could never hide things from him. No matter how much he might want to sometimes. Thankfully for Jungkook, Taehyung merely winked at him and went back to his original task. They don’t speak as Tae finished changing or on the short walk to the parking lot. It was silent in the car aside from the steady sound of heartbeats, but that wasn’t really a new phenomenon.

Jungkook had originally been terrified of hearing someone else’s heart in his ears, but he came to find Taehyung’s strong rhythm comforting. Crowds were still a bit overwhelming, but they weren’t loud enough to be distracting anymore. Jungkook realized a bit too late that being trapped in the car with nothing but bad ideas and Taehyung’s scent and sounds was probably a terrible thing for him right now.

He felt accomplished when he didn’t break on the 20 minute car ride back to their apartment building. That he didn’t push his own sweatpants down and start touching himself while Tae was driving them. Or risking both of their lives by taking Tae into his mouth while he drove. A game they played once before, but didn’t end all that well. Officer Baekhyun wasn’t too thrilled to have to pull them over that night only to find Jungkook hadn’t really stopped just because he was there. Any other day Jungkook would openly laugh at the memory of the officer stumbling through a warning and a reckless driving ticket before tripping his way back to is squad car. Tae wasn’t very happy with him that night, either.

The elder aware of the inner battle Jungkook was having next to him. Jungkook could tell by the constant squeezes Tae was giving his thigh and the way his eyes left the road more often than not to lock with Jungkook’s gaze in the rear view mirror. The tense muscles in Tae’s jaw and neck told Jungkook to wait. That this simer was a good thing. That is he sat on his hands and didn’t touch like a good bitch it would feel better later. From past experience, he knew this was probably true.

So, for once, Jungkook listened. He waited until they parked underground to even move a muscle. He kept his hands in the shape of firm fists as they moved to the elevator and rode up the 10 floors to their home. His grip crushing the life out of the fabric of his pants that were unlucky enough to find themselves inside of his grasp. If he thought the drive home was long, the elevator felt like years.

That’s where Jungkook finds himself now. Standing in the middle of their living room waiting for Taehyung to make the first move. He’s half hard again already, but he’s almost too shocked by how angry Tae still is at him to want to move at all.

“Jungkook,” his name is nothing but a growl as it rolls off Taehyung’s tongue. Tae takes a step closer to him and Jungkook feels like prey in the gaze he’s under, “you’re in a lot of trouble.”

That’s all it takes for Jungkook’s dick to become fully interested, straining once again against the fabric of his clothes. There’s a shiver down his spine as Jungkook realizes he is finally going to get what he wanted. The way Tae’s eyes sweep across the exposed skin of Jungkook’s neck, he knows he might get more than just a few bruises to remember this night with.

As Taehyung nods his head towards there bedroom and leads him into the darkness of it, a part of his brain whispers that he shouldn’t be excited at the thought of the pain Taehyung has planned for him right now. But the rest of him is screaming that the pleasure doesn’t feel half as good without some pain with it.