Namjoon takes it in stride when infamous campus beauty Kim Seokjin suddenly starts flirting with him; after all he’s not averse to the idea of getting to know Seokjin—the young man who is as pale as a ghost and as mysterious as one: Quiet, keeping to himself, always sucking Iollipops.
Red. The Iollipops are always a deep, rich red, reminding Namjoon of roses, strawberries, and danger.
More than once Namjoon had wondered what flavor they are when he watched the round, shiny thing disappear inside Seokjin’s mouth.
Even now, as they’re leaning casually against a wall while waiting for their next class to start, Seokjin is sucking on one, and even though the closeness between them is making it impossible to be subtle in his staring, Namjoon gets lost in thought about it yet again.
Is it cherry? Raspberry? Strawberry?
What does the inside of Seokjin’s mouth taste like?
Namjoon’s eyes trace the shape of Seokjin’s deliciously plump lips which are closed around the hard candy in an almost-perfect circle. Only the stick is poking out from the middle, the end of it precariously held between Seokjin’s lithe fingers.
He twirls the lollipop around a few times, and Namjoon can only imagine that he’s rolling it against his tongue and sucking on it. Then he pulls, making the round head slide tortuously slowly out of his puckered, plush lips until it pops free with a soft, wet sound.
Straight, white teeth playfully bite down on the sphere before Seokjin takes the sucker out of his mouth, holding it close against his lips. “Would you like a taste?”
Surprised, Namjoon’s eyes snap up. He’s sure it’s a joke until he sees the teasing challenge in Seokjin’s expression.
Seokjin licks his lips, the tip of his tongue gliding across his red skin to catch the last traces of whatever sugary flavor it had been glazed with.
Namjoon glances down at the red candy, so impossibly glossy and sticky with Seokjin’s spit, and feels a traitorous twinge in his stomach at the thought of taking into his mouth what’s been in Seokjin’s before.
Without waiting for an answer, Seokjin holds the lollipop up, not quite touching Namjoon’s lips with it. And, after a last look into Seokjin’s glittering, excited eyes, Namjoon takes hold of Seokjin’s wrist to pull the lollipop into his mouth.
He can’t stop the slight feeling of arousal in his stomach from going southward when the moist surface of the candy comes into contact with his tongue; when he’s so wholly aware that that’s Kim Seokjin’s saliva he’s tasting right now.
Then the flavor of the lollipop comes through and Namjoon frowns. It spreads on his tongue, weirdly not sweet at all, kind of pungently metallic —
Seokjin chuckles. “Tasty, isn’t it?”
Namjoon lifts his eyes, feeling his arousal transform into apprehension. It dawns on him then that the wrist he’s holding is unnaturally thin, the skin ice cold.
Seokjin blinks, and when he opens his eyes, his irises are red like blood, framed by thick lashes. He lips part in a smile, revealing two pointy fangs.
“Although I prefer it when it’s liquid and warm.”
All of Namjoon’s limbs feel like lead. His feet are resting on the floor as if they were embedded in concrete, and his arms are hanging heavily down each side of his body. He can’t remember how he got to his apartment, or how he got to sit on his sofa, or when and how Kim Seokjin climbed on top of him; straddling his thighs like one of the hot, hazy imagines of himself that have haunted many of Namjoon’s wet dreams lately.
“I haven’t fed properly in so long,” Seokjin says suddenly, and it sparks something in Namjoon’s mind—a thought, a sensation, something that he thinks he should be remembering. “Been living off of supplements and those lollipops for the last six months, but the lack of nutrients has taken a big toll on my beauty. This is very frustrating.”
A cold finger grazes Namjoon’s neck so softly that it tickles.
“It’s just that I’m a very picky eater, you know? My taste is quite peculiar, which makes it almost impossible to find fresh food. I was just beginning to consider hunting elsewhere when our ways crossed.” There’s something absolutely ravenous in Seokjin’s eyes. “You. You’re…”
He trails off and leans over, making his weight shift on top of Namjoon, and for a second Namjoon thinks that Seokjin’s going to kiss him—but instead he forcefully bends Namjoon’s head to the side, presses his nose into his neck, and inhales deeply.
The breath he lets out in turn is shaky. Longing.
Namjoon wants to ask what all of this means, why all of this is happening, but it feels like there’s something blocking his voice. He can’t say a word.
“I’m hungry,” Seokjin whispers against his skin; a desperate plea. “I’m so hungry, Namjoon,” he whines, “and you smell so good,” and before Namjoon knows it he’s feeling something sharp sink into the flesh of his neck; puncturing the skin and his carotid.
It all comes back to him in that moment: Their conversation in the hallway earlier, the lollipop, the taste of blood, Seokjin’s red eyes and his sharp teeth. They had left after that, and Namjoon had followed Seokjin as if hypnotized, had invited him into his home, and now he’s here trapped under Seokjin—being fed on.
There’s pain first; pain where Seokjin is biting him, then pain that radiates from the bite through his entire shoulder. The pain lasts only for a few seconds until a tingling feeling overrides it, spreading through his body and making it feel like all of his limbs fell asleep at the same time.
Seokjin breathes out pleased sighs between the little sucking noises that he makes and Namjoon is horrified when he realizes that his dick is still, after all of this, twitching in interest in his pants.
He groans, and it’s really the only sound he’s able to make in this predicament.
Having lost all concept of time, Namjoon isn’t sure how long Seokjin’s been sucking the blood right out of him, or how long he goes on after Namjoon asked himself this question, but he’s starting to feel dizzy and his fingertips are getting cold.
Seokjin eventually removes his teeth after a last, loud slurp. He licks over the bite—the glide of his tongue making the wound sting—before he leans back, palms sliding down Namjoon’s shoulders and stopping on his chest. His eyes are glowing bright red whereas his mouth is daubed with dark red blood, and his complexion already seems a lot healthier than before.
Seokjin gasps, but his surprise doesn’t sound genuine. “Oh my. I might have overdone it a bit.” With the corners of his blood-smeared mouth pulled up, he goes to swipe two fingers over the bleeding bite. He brings them back to his mouth, slides them between his parted lips, and sucks the blood off of them.
They come back out clean but wet with his spit, and the way Seokjin is looking at Namjoon with lowered eyelids drives Namjoon insane. He wants to say something, wants to move his hips, buck up into the weight on top of him—
“You don’t look so well, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin says, his lips pressed together in a pout. His hands come up to cup Namjoon’s face. They’re warmer than before. “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you? I know I’m really bad at holding back, but I’m not planning to kill you.” He leans in again, holding Namjoon’s gaze, but this time he doesn’t go for his neck. Brushing their lips together, he whispers, “Let’s help each other out, Namjoon-ah,” and then he tilts his head up to bring their lips properly together—his bloody ones against Namjoon’s.
He kisses him fervently, with a different hunger than before, his fingers pressing hard into Namjoon’s jawline while his tongue pries Namjoon’s lips open.
Namjoon tastes his own blood in his mouth, feels his lips getting sticky with it. Seokjin begins moving his hips in small increments, grinding against Namjoon’s clothed, hard dick, and the last part of Namjoon’s brain that wasn’t completely addled waves him goodbye then. He moans into the kiss, wanting nothing more than to grab Seokjin’s waist to guide his motions.
Seokjin removes his mouth so suddenly that it leaves Namjoon disappointed and panting. If he could move he’d lean forward, follow that sinful mouth—bloody or not; he’d be the one to cup Seokjin’s face this time to bring it down to his own, to bring their lips back together—
“I know you want me,” Seokjin’s breathless voice interrupts his train of thought. His fingers are still on Namjoon’s face, gentler now, caressing his cheeks almost lovingly. “I’ve known ever since you first looked at me. Tell me.” His red eyes fix Namjoon urgently as his thumb rubs across Namjoon’s lips. “Tell me how you want me, Namjoon.”
Namjoon feels like he’s getting more and more lost in the bright glow of Seokjin’s red eyes, and he isn’t even surprised when he opens his mouth and finally, finally finds himself able to speak again. “Want you like this,” he says. “Like this on top of me; naked, riding me. Saying my name over and over.”
“And?” Seokjin urges, pushing his hips forward boldly, breathing hard. “Namjoon. Namjoon-ah.”
There is not enough time in the world for Namjoon to possibly list all the ways he wants to have Seokjin in.
“In my bed, under me, holding onto me. Want to eat you out in the morning and make you scream my name at night. Want you any way I can have you—”
Seokjin moans, the movement of his hips faltering. He puts a finger to Namjoon’s lips to make him shut up. “You can have me any way you want, and in turn I’ll get you any way I want.” His eyes flicker toward Namjoon’s neck as he says this. “Is that alright? Shall we help each other out, Namjoon-ah?”
The bite stings like a warning, but Seokjin’s eyes glow like a promise, and without hesitation Namjoon answers, “Yes.”