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Jiwoong knows how to move silently. It comes with the nature of living for centuries, hiding in plain sight and only making a ruckus if he’s feeling particularly bored.
But he finds that he enjoys the chimes that jingle when he enters Matthew’s shop – little silver birds with bells dangling from the tips of their wings – and so he always makes the conscious decision to set them off when he slips through the door.
“We’re closed,” a voice floats from the far side of the room. The man behind the counter has his back to him, but Jiwoong’s sharp eyes still pick up the twitch of his lips in playful recognition. Matthew’s expecting him, after all.
Jiwoong weaves his way through the shop’s displays, past rows of neatly stacked books and well-placed potions. He takes care not to displace the ancient wolf skeleton Matthew had taken days to piece together. Jiwoong still thinks a few metal rods and some glue would have done the trick, but Witches do love their naturalistic rituals, and far be it for Jiwoong to meddle.
“I have an appointment,” Jiwoong says simply. He shrugs off his coat and lays it next to the register, leaning against the worn wood to try and get a peak at what Matthew’s working on behind the counter.
“Well, you’re late,” Matthew’s back responds. He fiddles for a bottle on the shelf next to him, plucking out a few sprigs of lavender and tossing them into the pot below him.
“Would you believe me if I said there was traffic?” Jiwoong supplies.
Matthew scoffs, stirring the boiling liquid a few times before he seems pleased. He waves a hand and the fire lowers to a simmer, just enough to keep it warm. Finally, he turns his attention to Jiwoong.
“You hate driving.”
“Too slow, you know that,” Jiwoong says, distracting himself by turning to poke at the mangled limb encased in glass next to him.
They’ve known each other for decades at this point. Jiwoong has trained his expressions masterfully over the years, but there’s still something in the way Matthew spouts little facts about him that knowing smile that crinkles his eyes. It makes Jiwoong twitch in the hollow behind his chest.
“Well, not all of us have the luxury of preternatural speed.” Matthew hops onto the counter and spins around until his legs dangle off the other side. He nudges Jiwoong with his knee. “I wouldn’t touch that.”
“What is it?”
“Monkey’s paw,” Matthew replies, “A customer brought it in a few days ago. He said it’s cursed. Must be some kind of wild aphrodisiac; made him wanna fuck for days.”
“Sounds like fun.” Jiwoong arches a brow suggestively, shifting so he can settle himself between Matthew’s legs.
Matthew tilts his head. “I don’t recall you ever needing any assistance.”
Jiwoong can’t blush, not anymore, but a phantom heat still tingles across his cheeks. He must make a face wholly unbecoming of a wisened, old vampire because Matthew lets out a cackle before taking Jiwoong’s face in his hands.
“It’s a good thing,” Matthew offers, leaning down to stifle Jiwoong's grumble with his lips.
Jiwoong wraps his arms around Matthew’s waist and pulls him closer to the edge of the counter. He leans back in, only to be met with a firm hand on his chin instead of Matthew’s warm mouth.
“What?” Jiwoong pouts again his grip.
Matthew smirks. He pulls a circular, disc-shaped glass container from the pocket of his sweater and waves it in front of Jiwoong’s face. “First thing’s first. Open up.”
“It’s always business with you,” Jiwoong sighs dramatically. He lets his mouth fall open anyway, with far less protest than a more dignified creature would. It’s becoming a more frequent trend, bending himself to Matthew’s whims, but Jiwoong can’t quite find it in himself to care. It could always be worse – and it had been at times, before Jiwoong settled in the city and happened upon this apothecary by chance.
In fact, Jiwoong thinks – as Matthew’s fingers slide into his mouth to prod against his teeth, a pleased noise leaving his lips when Jiwoong’s fangs run out on instinct – this is the best his eternity has ever been.
Matthew removes his hand to replace it with the container, letting Jiwoong bite down on the gauze tightened over the top. Jiwoong always feels a little ridiculous when they do this, like a snake being milked in a laboratory, but vampire venom is a rare commodity for potion-making and he's just doing a friend a favor. It’s not like Matthew doesn’t offer to pay him for his services, monetarily and in other ways.
“You fed already, didn’t you?” Matthew frowns, noticing the minute trickle of venom dripping slowly into the container. The pale green-yellow liquid is hardly enough to even coat the bottom of the glass.
Jiwoong pulls back so he can respond. “Hm, just a little. I didn’t think that would affect anything. I thought it might help with the lightheadedness if I wasn’t so hungry.”
Jiwoong’s not exactly sure how much of that is true. Being around Matthew is always a battle of will between him and his own body, the scent of his blood like a pulse that beats with every breath. Matthew knows full well the power that his magic has over Jiwoong’s kind. He’s rarely the type to use that to his advantage, and never on a whim, but sometimes he lets the importance of his work take precedence over his moral compass.
“I have an idea.” Matthew reaches back, fumbling to pull open a drawer under the counter behind him. He sits back up with a small letter opener in his hand, the ornate golden handle glinting under the dim shop lights.
“Wait– I don’t think–” Jiwoong starts, but Matthew’s already got the blade at his own throat. He presses down just enough to break the skin – a small, thin line of blood beading just above his collarbone.
Almost immediately Jiwoong perks and shifts, his body rigid with the single-minded focus of the scent that floods through his senses and wraps itself around the most primal part of his brain. A bright, citrus aroma, tinged with a familiar flicker of warmth and light, almost like Jiwoong can smell the sun itself.
It takes every ounce of his self-control not to lunge forward. That, and the firm grip that finds him again, an anchored presence and a reminder of Matthew's own strength. Matthew guides the container back into his mouth and Jiwoong winces when his teeth grind against the glass in frustration.
“Hold still,” Matthew chides with a smile. He seems pleased that Jiwoong’s venom glands have finally awoken, his thumb gently tracing the outline of Jiwoong’s jaw as the thick liquid pours from his fangs. “There we go. That’s my good boy.”
Jiwoong groans and his eyes flutter. Lust flares in his chest from just the whisper of praise and the taunt of Matthew’s blood. Shame follows in hot flashes when laughter floats in his ears. Jiwoong would think it was pathetic if he didn’t enjoy it so much.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Matthew removes the disc from Jiwoong’s mouth and sets it aside. “That should be enough.” He tilts his head and lets his sweater slip from his shoulder, an open invitation.
Jiwoong’s gaze drops, his grip on the edge of the counter so hard he can feel the wood cracking beneath his hands. He sputters around the spit gathering in his mouth. “A-are you sure?”
“Go ahead, you’ve earned it. You never take my money anyway.”
Jiwoong can hear the tremble in Matthew’s voice, so slight that he never would have caught it if he wasn’t so attuned with with Matthew’s entire being. It sobers him, giving him enough clarity to move closer with any semblance of control. He leans forward to lick gently at the blood still pooling at Matthew’s collar, a gorgeous flavor sparking like fireworks against his tongue.
He wants to savor it, he really does, but he can count the number of times on one hand that Matthew’s let him feed like this, and he’s waited long enough.
Matthew barely makes a sound when he bites down, just a quiet noise caught behind his teeth. Jiwoong tugs him closer as he feeds. It’s not even so much about his own hunger at this point – it’s about what little venom he has left settling inside Matthew’s skin. It's about Jiwoong’s desire finding a mirror with Matthew’s own – the grip on his neck keeping Jiwoong in place, the soft pants that shift into stifled whimpers, the telltale sign of arousal that presses against him when Matthew’s legs wrap around his body.
“Jiwoong…fuck,” Matthew moans, tugging weakly at the long strands of hair at the back of Jiwoong’s neck. Jiwoong finally comes up for air, not because he needs to breathe but because he’s certain if he allows himself to continue, his indulgence will come at a cost.
“Are you okay?” He asks, his words like molasses on his tongue.
Matthew answers him by tugging him forward to taste the blood on his lips. Jiwoong whines into the kiss, scrabbling at Matthew’s back, his head spinning and his desire extinguishing all finesse as it bubbles to a feverish peak. He lets himself be molded to Matthew’s will, following him easily when Matthew lays back against the counter and pulls Jiwoong down on top of him.
Dizzy with want and the change in orientation, Jiwoong fingers fumble as he tries to undo the buttons of his shirt. He struggles with getting it off his body, arms flailing behind him while Matthew’s tongue laps against his teeth. Jiwoong's unwillingness to detach himself properly is wholly to blame for the sound of shattering glass that follows, echoing loudly through the empty store.
“Shit,” Jiwoong breathes, startled out of his blood-drunk haze. Without thinking he pulls back to inspect the damage, bending down to pluck the mangled monkey’s paw out of the shards that litter the floor.
“No, wait!” Matthew shoots up and swats the appendage out of Jiwoong’s hand, the color draining from his face.
“What?” Jiwoong squawks, before realization strikes him. “Oh, come on, just because that thing is old and gross that doesn’t mean it’s cursed.”
Matthew takes his hand to examine it, and Jiwoong’s wrist immediately starts to ache. Warmth crawls from the tips of his fingers, following every press of Matthew’s skin against his own. He bites back the whimper that leaves his lips, his body suddenly trembling like a live wire. It’s like his interrupted arousal is building up again tenfold, the small waves of it flaring up fast.
“Uh oh…” Jiwoong mutters, fighting back a nervous laugh that sticks in his throat.
“I told you not to touch that damn thing,” Matthew sighs. Despite his tone, he doesn’t look angry in the slightest. In fact, he looks frighteningly gleeful.
Jiwoong knows that look. He knows he’s about to become the subject of many rounds of “necessary experimentation” for Matthew’s research. But Jiwoong will be damned if he isn’t going to enjoy every second of it.
“Well…I hope you’re free for the next few days. Because it looks like you’re stuck with me.”