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Yoongi could see the distant lights flickering just like always, false orange-tinged stars across the horizon seemingly within reach but so very far away. The doorway between him and the earthen realm was nothing more than a veil, a wall of thin and membranous white smoke that served as a barricade to keep him away but that wasn’t going to stop him now. Not when he could feel the pit all around him trembling in trepidation of what was going to come and; oh, wasn’t the future so grand? Yoongi could almost taste the sweetness on his tongue as crisp as sugar, could barely contain his excitement at the mere thought of what was lying in wait for him.


Tonight he was going to leave Gehenna and stand on the mortal plane again for the first time in centuries.


Of all of the veils that he could slip through to get to the earthen realm, this one had been pulling at him the most for quite some time now. There was something about it that made him draw close and linger for long periods of time, mostly because there was actually activity on the other side for him to observe unlike the other veils. Had it just been dead like the other ones then he would have ignored it, but the activity was a sign to him that it was the one that he was going to use to cross over to the mortal plane.


Through the thin membrane of the veil Yoongi could detect many things with his eyes, ears and nose. The most potent thing was the sight of distant and twinkling colourful lights that drew the eye, flickering like dying candles and yet never plunging out and living on eternally. Then came the faded but sweet peals of violin strings and something he was certain was a harpsichord, the music making him feel a strong yearning deep inside his chest that almost ached. Such beautiful music it was, more sweeter than the howl of the wolf and more haunting than the caterwaul of a cougar. The final thing that he was able to discern was the dry and aromatic scent of earth, abundant with nutrients and worms, decay and everything foul.


How long had it been since he had smelled the earth; since he had scented nature and felt a breeze upon his flesh that was cooling and fresh? It had been far too long but the last time that Yoongi had stepped through to the plane he had been driven back down to Gehenna once more; chastised and left to lick his wounds like a pathetic whelp.


Not this time, however. No, Yoongi knew that this time when he stepped onto the earthen plane he was not going to be chased away again. This time he was going to return a victor, was going to return with a crown of his own that was so much more substantial than gold and laurel. He knew that it was so because it was telling him.


The Dragon was telling him that it was time.


Yoongi could feel it stirring deep down in The Abyss once more, awakening from its slumber after so very long so that ripples disturbed the earthen realm as well as Gehenna. The ripples caused so many hideous reactions through the veil on the mortal plane: from shaking the ground and raising the seas in walls to wash over cities, to infecting the minds of the mortal worms and causing war and famine. Over the centuries Yoongi had felt those ominous ripples before but this was something else, something much more potent.


The Dragon was awakening for war in the blackest pits of Gehenna and he knew what that meant. It meant that he needed to find his intended and prepare him and the legions for its arrival so that he could wage destruction on The Kingdom and reclaim Paradise once more.


Yoongi needed to find his king, the one that would lead his armies to victory against God.


For as long as he had been yearning for the sights and scents of nature, Yoongi had also been hungering for a mate. But not just any mate, an equal just like himself. No, Yoongi needed a superior to worship above himself. He had been born to worship after all, it was only in his nature that he bow his head to a god, to a king worthy of his fealty and love. The Dragon was stirring excitedly at the detection of such a being, and even if that being was a mortal then he would correct this niggling matter in time.


Yoongi would bow to only one mortal and it was his intended, his fallen angel in disguise that he was yearning for. The rest were disgusting little worms that he wanted to crush and tear asunder. And soon…soon he would run the rivers of Paradise red with worm blood and dine on their entrails with his king and generals. The thought alone was enough to make the cavernous walls and ground tremble with excitement, The Dragon stirring once more beneath him.


(Find him.)


(Find The Unholy One, my prince.)


“Yes, pet,” Yoongi breathed out as he stroked his hand down the veil. The thin membrane rippled against his touch, dissipated like smoke in a sigh of air only to reform again in front of his very eyes. “I’ll find him, I’ll find my betrothed.”


(Free me from the earth, let me be your weapon once more. Let me breathe again.)


“Mmm, don’t worry,” he said with a faint smile. “You’ll be able to breathe, engulf and consume soon enough. I don’t intend to lose this war like the last, I intend to conquer with you beneath me and him at my side.”


(Go forth, my prince. I will await The Unholy One’s arrival.)


Yoongi took a deep breath and held it in his lungs, closing his eyes as he stepped through the veil. It clung to his skin for a moment and he could feel it almost caressing him hungrily, trying to mould itself onto him until he snapped the membrane like gossamer and broke through onto the other side. When he stuck his arm out in front of himself he felt his hands hitting against things, things that seemed to be leaves, so he awkwardly forced his way through until he was free from their clutches. For a few seconds he was uncertain if he had done so, eyes still squeezed tightly shut, but when a chill breeze struck him he knew that he was on the mortal plane. The sensation was enough to make him open his eyes wide and he tried to take it all in at once.


If the signs hadn’t already in place for him already then the sight of the moon in the sky most certainly would have been the portend that he needed. Right now it was floating in a sea of impenetrable black and void of a single star, swollen like a tumour and blood red. Just looking at it caused a warmth to pool deep down inside of him, made his breath escape his lungs in a purr of contentment. Oh, it was perfect, so perfect! The blood moon, the cool breeze on his skin playing with his hair like teasing fingers. When he closed his eyes again his ears detected the sound of it rustling grass and leaves, mingling with the now much clearer sound of music coming from somewhere nearby.


Yoongi opened his eyes and he checked his surroundings curiously, turning this way and that to get a full sense of where he was because he was currently uncertain. The first thing that he noted was the fact that he seemed to be surrounded on either side by tall hedges of greenery: trimmed neatly, vividly coloured and beaded with dew in the current nightly hour. There were various paths cutting through the walls to form straight forward routes before seeming to turn into corners of some kind, and when he checked over his shoulder he saw that he was standing in what seemed to be the centre of it all.


He was in a maze.


The circular centre of the maze wasn’t actually empty but contained several things. Yoongi could see ornate metal and wood benches placed inside, seemingly for leisure purposes, all ringing around the hedge walls. There was a fountain in which there was a statue, the water currently filled with floating leaves rather than pristine. He stared at the weathered white marble statue of a female, seeing that it was pitted with age and wear so that hints of moss were starting to grow in the folds of her long stola and the gentle creases of her shapely elbows. Even her face had been rather cruelly loved by nature, the nose worn down and patches of black mould growing on her cheeks and brow.


Lastly there was a tall and rather wizened-looking tree, a willow with overhanging thin branches covered in leaves, with which he had been struggling with a moment ago. The tree behind him seemed to be the veil between the realms, the way that he had entered onto the mortal plane, and so Yoongi moved to shove the branches aside and study the trunk for a moment.


When he reached over to stroke his fingers down the trunk he found that they slipped right through, no resistance at all from the wood but rather that same membranous substance like a moment ago. He pulled his hand back for fear that Gehenna would try and drag him right back through again, a trespasser on this plane, but it just clung to him for a moment before dissipating like smoke off his skin. He watched it floating up from his fingers before letting go of the branches. At least he knew how to get back through again.


Yoongi took a few steps back from the tree and turned on his heel, eyes slowly running over the various entrances that were all around him. As he did so his heels dug into the ground, making it crunch loudly and drawing his attention down to his feet. He stared at the sight of his shoes for a moment, black calfskin single monkstrap shoes, and then he found his eyes latching onto the sight of the soil instead.


Soft soil, fragrant and longing to be touched.


Yoongi dropped to his knees and he clawed at the soil, feeling the moist and cold mixture clinging to his skin and getting trapped under his nails. Oh, it felt so good, so pleasing. If only he could bury himself underneath a blanket of the soil. He squeezed it between his hands to feel it rubbing against his skin, closing his eyes as he did so just to feel every tiny hint of grit inside the soil. It was so exquisite that he let his breath out in a heavy sigh as he opened his eyes again and looked at the black particles that were coating his palms, trapped in the grooves of his skin. He dropped the soil and was in the act of smoothing it back down in place when he noticed a beetle crawling through the disturbed earth.


Yoongi plucked it free and lifted it to his mouth, shoving it inside before it could possibly escape his clutches. His tongue tasted dry soil at first, clinging to its shell and legs, and then he felt the satisfying crunch as he brought his teeth together and severed it in half. There was nothing more than a thin ichor inside it that was bitter, but it was still wonderfully crunchy. He patted the soil down smooth again and then dusted his palms clean, attempting to brush any hints of dirt free from his clothing. It was rather hard to notice considering the fact that his trousers were black, but his suit jacket and shirt were currently cream and white. He couldn’t get dirt on the precious silk or it would be ruined, and he had chosen his clothing very carefully for this very evening. Gone was the usually black looks devoid of a hint of colour that didn’t come from the jewels on his jabot or the rings on his fingers.


He needed to look enticing, even if the look was only to attract his intended’s eye and nothing more than that. No, if he found him tonight then everything else would fall in place perfectly, just like he had prophesied.


Yoongi straightened up and he fixed his suit jacket to make it neater, not wanting a single crease on display if possible. He ran his tongue around his mouth, tasting the slightest hints of soil still clinging to it that he hastily swallowed. When he cocked his head to listen his ears detected that distant sound of music. It was much more clearer now that he had went through the veil, a haunting sonata that beckoned he follow its sound to the source. To do so however he would need to cut through the maze, a slightly daunting task. He didn’t want to get lost inside and spend the entire night wandering around it, a likely possibility.


Yoongi glanced back at the tree for a moment, eyeing the low hanging branches, and then he started moving towards the entrance from which the music seemed to be coming the loudest. His ears were sharp, as was his nose, and so he was hoping that they would lead him to the building on the horizon; the one with the enchanting little lights that he so greatly wanted to see with his own two eyes. So he held his head high, took a deep breath of the fragrant night air, and he started walking down one of the maze paths to escape the trap he was currently ensnared in.






The glass was in his hand, his fingers cupping the bowl snugly as he stared into the depths of the crystal to eye the vivid green liquid inside it without much care at all. Jimin was struggling to recall just what number this glass was, for he was almost certain that it was his fourth but it might just be his sixth for all that he knew. What he currently did know was that he was drunk, but sadly not drunk in a fashion that would make his head foggy and allow him to ignore that strange emptiness he could feel growing stronger and stronger every single night. No, sadly absinthe made him drunk with clarity, just gave him a slight rush of excitement that quickly petered down to sedation and made him feel pretty shit.


On the salmon coloured Chesterfield sofa facing him, contently lounged over the seats, was Namjoon; his friend currently nursing his own glass of the spirit in one hand and holding the end of the hookah pipe in the other. The object was set up on the low table just in front of him, the glass bowl filled with softly bubbling liquid and heated over the low flame, and the absinthe kit was placed just beside it on a tray. The spoons were currently lying on the tray waiting to be used for the next round of drinks, as was the carafe of iced water, the bowl of brandy soaked sugar cubes, and the metal prongs.


Jimin curled his wrist slowly to make the green liquid lap against the sides of his glass and he stared at the other man for a moment, almost waiting for him to break the quiet that was hanging heavily on the air. Through the shut doors the sound of the music still bled inside the cabinet room, but thankfully it blocked every other noise coming from the rooms of the manor; from the irritating drone of conversation to the mixture of sounds from the pleasure rooms. Jimin was thankful for the loud music. Sadly it seemed that Namjoon was far too busy listening to the music to want to open his mouth for anything more than the pipe or his glass, so all that he could do was stare at his friend silently.


Namjoon was lying on the sofa with his long legs currently dangling over the low armrest in a sign of ultimate comfort. His indoor slippers, trimmed and filled with fur, were hanging from his toes and looked just about poised to fall and yet they never did. His suit trousers were black and his shirt white, the dinner jacket a deep crimson red and made of satin just like his golden Ascot tie. The look was rather subtle instead of flamboyant, just the right amount of colour to be pleasing instead of tacky. Jimin thought that his friend knew exactly how to dress to compliment his appearance, always making sure to keep everything tailored to perfection for his long legs so that everything fitted and looked right.


Jimin tracked a lungful of smoke floating up into the air to hit the ceiling with marked disinterest, seeing the way the little ball of smoke hit the centre of the floral frieze that came out of the cream surface. The floral oval was circled by several bands of lace-like friezes to create an elegant pattern before the borders around the very edges of the ceiling took over and ran in uniform squares filled with even more boring harvest symbols.


Jimin thought that it was somewhat funny that so much work had been put into the ceilings of the manor rooms when very few eyes actually turned up to look at them. At least the wall friezes were easily observable and more interesting to look at, for they were all reliefs of humans rather than just boring laurels and flowers, and even the alcoves in which various statues and vases were seated were beautiful to observe. But the ceiling? Unless someone was passing out drunk or stoned on the flooring of the smoking rooms, or perhaps being fucked in one of the pleasure rooms, would they actually pay attention to the ceiling above them. At least he had something to stare up at, he supposed. Rather than just the boring sight of smooth plaster there were the pointless friezes. Jimin was almost convinced that he would see them when he closed his eyes, burnt onto his eyelids from the intensity of his gaze.


Jimin was just about to lift the glass and take a sip of the absinthe when the piece in the grand hall switched, the rhythm picking up and mostly certainly becoming more lively. The change made Namjoon come back to reality for a moment, blinking thrice as he let another lungful of smoke out of his lips.


“I like this, what’s this sonata?” his friend asked as he lifted his own glass of absinthe to take a deep swallow.


“I requested Tartini’s ‘Devil’s Trill’ sonata to be in fitting with the current sight outside of the window,” Jimin explained as he lowered his glass without taking a sip. “It seemed rather amusing to me but I doubt most of the guests know Tartini from shit.”


Namjoon made a noise in agreement as this as he swallowed the spirit hard.


“At least you appreciate it, brother.”


“I like all music,” the other man stated as he placed his empty glass onto the tray and lay back on the throw cushions again. “You know it’s one of the reasons I come here, Jimin. First for your company, second for the liquor, third for the music. Everything else is a little too predictably rich for my tastes. Though I do like the cards sometimes, or the games.”


“Namjoon, you do know that there are so many women out in the grand hall longing to play games with you too,” Jimin said with a wry smile.


“I much prefer games that require my mind than my body,” Namjoon retorted as he hovered the hookah pipe in front of his lips. “You, however, used to be expert in the latter.”


“Used to? Oh, I still am.”


“I used past pretense because for the last several weeks you’ve been locked up away in this cabinet room drinking rather than hosting,” his friend argued as he lightly bit down on the wooden pipe. “Like you’re doing right now, brother.”


“I’m bored, Namjoon,” Jimin complained as he stared at the glass in his hand. “Bored almost to death - in fact, I feel fucking dead right now.”


“You’ve been saying that all evening,” Namjoon replied as he pulled the pipe away from his lips, held firmly between his index and middle finger. He rolled his head to look at him with currently relaxed and heavy eyelids, but soon enough the absinthe would give him a little kick of energy.


Jimin lifted his gaze from the glass to study him for a moment, wondering where he was going with this point.


“Bored bored bored; you’re always bored, Jimin.”


“Because it’s the same thing every single night, that’s why,” he muttered in a petulant tone as he lifted his glass to take a sip of the absinthe. It was tart on his tongue with a slight aniseed flavour that lingered after he swallowed. “That’s why I’m sick and tired of hosting, that’s why I don’t play games with the guests, that’s why I’m avoiding the pleasure rooms. I’m bored of them all.”


As he ran his tongue around his mouth he saw Namjoon eyeing him with his lazy expression still present. His foot gently bobbed on the armrest and yet he remained silent for a moment as if thinking his words over intently.


“Then why don’t you stop hosting these parties?” Namjoon suggested after a minute of silence.


Jimin lifted his gaze from his glass to stare at him dumbly, processing his reply slowly.


Why didn’t he stop hosting these parties?


Well, Jimin had first started the parties as a form of escape from his empty days, tired of being left alone in the manor home with nothing to entertain himself with save for his visiting friend. So it had started as simple gatherings, wine and champagne over food and live music playing, and it had been so very pleasing to begin with. But then Jimin had felt the most insatiable need to liven the parties up by adding games to it, which had started off as gambling and parlour games but had rapidly evolved into the paranormal and sex games, and from that point he had lost control of it all. Sex games turned into pleasure rooms filled with hired entertainers, gambling turned to drugs, Ouija boards turned to séances, and it just kept spiralling down into deeper depravities with every passing evening.


At first, Jimin would admit that experimenting with it all had been exciting and adventurous. Playing with consenting guests that were so very attractive and filled with unexpected kinks that showed themselves only when he was alone with them had been simply wonderful. Bondage, rough-play, roleplaying; he had willfully participated with it all until it had started to feel…flat. Now Jimin could hardly stand the sight of the pleasure rooms, felt almost nauseous just passing them when the red glowing lights cast over him. Nudity was no longer interesting to observe, not even male nudity.


He wasn’t disgusted by the depravity, just simply bored. Nothing held his interest any longer; not hungry and handsome boys waiting to drag him into bed, not the stimulating party drugs being consumed in the dens. No, Jimin found it more enjoyable to spend his evenings surrounded by depravity but to stay in the company of his best friend and not participate in the filth.


But if he stopped the parties then the manor house would once again be empty of life. Jimin didn’t know what he would prefer: freedom from boredom in an empty and dead home, or pointless company to chase away loneliness at the expense of his energy and interest.


“I’ve got an image to maintain,” Jimin said to break the temporary silence, swirling the absinthe around his glass. “Therefore I can’t stop the parties, it’ll ruin the image.”


“Does being referred to as ‘prince of filth’ really appeal to you that much?” Namjoon asked as he breathed a lungful of smoke out of his nose, lifting an eyebrow languidly, and Jimin gave him a quick flash of a smile before sipping at his spirit again. “Don’t get me wrong, very fitting and very grand.”


“I’d prefer something more darker, more powerful,” Jimin remarked as he hovered his glass in front of his lips. “You know, something like ‘the king of darkness’; now that’s a title. Right, brother?”


“Of course you went straight for the king,” his friend said with a soft shake of the head as Jimin knocked back the last of his absinthe with a hard swallow. “You have to have the best of the best, and prince just isn’t good enough.”


“Hmm, I’m going out into the garden,” Jimin stated as he placed the empty glass down and got to his feet. “Hopefully no one will follow after me, I’m strongly tempted to push them down the staircase should they do so.”


“Jimin, please don’t kill one of your guests,” Namjoon stated as he pulled the pipe out of his lips again and breathed smoke out of his nose. “Somehow I think that won’t go down well with your parents.”


“Kill? Why, I’ll just call it a new game and everyone will want to play it,” Jimin retorted as he smoothed his hand down his shirt front and flattened out the creases in the cotton. “I’ll pretend it’s a murder mystery game.” This made his friend sigh wearily even when his lips curled up at the corners. “A ‘whodunit’ game with dire consequences. If you guess wrongly I push you down the stairs too.”


“I know the parties are getting out of hand but let’s be thankful that no one’s died just yet,” his friend muttered as he took another pull on the pipe.


Jimin crossed the cabinet room to stop in front of a rounded oaken console table, on which a vase of flowers had been left. There was a mirror mounted on the wall above it and so he used it to fix his appearance, reaching up to brush a loose lock of honey blond hair back in place off his brow. He ran his fingers down the shawl lapels of his blue velvet jacket so that the material was smooth once more and then he fiddled with the neck of his black shirt for a moment. Should he leave the strings the way they were? Should he maybe loosen them and open it up more, or pull them taut to cover his chest instead? After a moment of study he decided to leave them be, not wanting to tempt any more eyes his way tonight. No, he had already seen everyone that was present and none of the faces had earned his interest at all.


Too many old conquests in the pool, too many desperate boys and men vying for his utmost attention and affection that he didn’t want touching him again.


Why didn’t they understand that he didn’t even want them? He had never wanted them to begin with save for a moment of fleeting entertainment but then they got boring. They got boring even quicker if they opened their mouths and started talking to him.


Jimin pursed his lips tightly before pouting them out again, feeling the still present remains of lipstick clinging to them. It had faded somewhat however, no longer leaving much colour on his lips because it was now likely smeared all over his absinthe glass. He needed to correct that problem stat.


“Am I getting old, Namjoon? Is that why everything’s so fucking boring these days?” he asked as he reached over to pull the table drawer open and rooted around inside it to find what he was looking for.


“No, I just think that you’re growing bored of depravity, Jimin,” his friend retorted as he opened the the tube and twisted it.


Jimin snorted at this and then he lifted the tube of lipstick, pressing it against his lower lip and slowly smoothing it in place.


“So, by that logic I’d say that you’re maturing…even though the mere thought seems impossible,” the older man finished.


“Maturing? Oh, Namjoon,” he mumbled as he lowered the tube from his mouth and pressed his lips together hard to rub some onto his upper lip; deep red lipstick clinging to his full lips. “You’re not using your mind well tonight, must’ve had too much absinthe.”


Jimin added another light smudge before pursing his lips again, checking his eyes as he did to see that his liner was still perfectly in place. Then he stepped back from the mirror to get a better view, readjusting his trousers to neaten his shirt up. There, he felt a little bit better now; more comfortable now that he knew that he looked good. He fiddled with his rings for a few seconds, spinning the plain gold bands around and pulling his blue sapphire bright-cut ring free before slipping it back on his ring finger.


“Do I look fuckable? I’ve always got to look fuckable even when I’m not interested,” he said as he glanced back over his shoulder at his friend.


“Yeah, it just adds to ‘the king of darkness’ persona, right?” Namjoon agreed with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Androgyny is the key to fuckability.”


“Honey, this isn’t androgyny: it’s art,” Jimin argued as he recapped the tube of lipstick and dropped it in the drawer. “My face’s a masterpiece and I’m just simply painting it.”


“Honey? Now I’m thinking you’ve had too much absinthe,” his friend remarked as he shifted to sit up and look at him fully.


Jimin turned back to him and cocked his head, giving him a weary expression.


“Yeah, Jimin, you look fuckable,” Namjoon said with as much credibility as he could manage.


“Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself,” Jimin said with a quick wink that made his friend grin as he grabbed his jacket and proceeded to fasten two of the buttons. “Don’t drink all of that in my absence, huh?”


“Wait,” Namjoon shifted to turn off the hookah pipe flames, clearly showing that he was planning on following him out of the cabinet room.


Jimin waited for him to get to his feet and quickly neaten his own appearance up, hastily tugging on his open jacket sleeves as he moved over to him.


“If you’re running off into the forest then I should at least host in your absence.”


“These parties don’t need much hosting,” Jimin remarked as he looked up at him, feeling his hand settling on his back as he gently steered him in the direction of the doors.


“How would you know? You’ve been avoiding them for weeks,” Namjoon retorted as he grabbed the door handles and pulled them open for them both, letting them step right out into the foyer.


The foyer was a wide area with a high ceiling, several thick arches built around the massive circle glass ceiling. Much like the walls in the cabinet room the walls of the foyer were a deep cream covered in white friezes, except there was some black onyx added into the reliefs to give character. The decorative columns were a light tan sandstone and the floor was angel beige marble. Underneath the overhanging balcony of the first-floor there was a deep alcove in which there was a plush love seat, several small marble statues and a painting hanging on the wall. Jimin liked that alcove a lot, enough to actually put a barricade up in front of it to deter anyone from entering it and soiling his private area during these parties.


Upon stepping out into the foyer Jimin was suddenly aware of how many guests were present, for the area was packed with bodies. To get out to the garden he would sadly have to go through the grand hall with his friend, which meant even more humans to have to deal with. Namjoon let the doors close shut behind him and then he proceeded to gently push him in the direction of said hall. Jimin hoped that none of the guests tried to touch him as they passed. They didn’t do so, but he did feel eyes burning into him the entire time, and when they stepped into the grand hall the sensation just continued even more strongly.


The grand hall had dark wooden flooring that greatly clashed with the blush pink walls and friezes of women playing harps, of laurels and faüx columns that had no structural purpose that jutted out of the walls. The ceiling had crisscrossing ivy reliefs and a low-hanging golden chandelier. There were padded matching white and blush chairs and benches placed around the room, along with tables of food and champagne, the former seemingly ignored the latter being consumed in vast amounts.


As Namjoon guided him past the food tables Jimin reached out to pluck a strawberry from the massive bowl. The fruit had been touched but only sparingly, just like the platters of cold-cut meats: poussin, slices of silverside beef, pheasant, all barely touched. The slowly roasting pig had also been carved into only slightly, rather than devoured. It seemed like his guests didn’t want to gorge on food when there were other things to sate their appetites. He popped the fruit into his mouth as they passed the stacked tower of champagne flutes, biting into the chilled and succulent flesh and trying to not dribble juice down his chin.


In the far corner there was a slight pit in which the musicians played, but tonight there were just a handful needed to play his wanted sonatas. Jimin didn’t even look over the balcony as they passed it, eyes glued firmly on the wide open glass doors across the hall.


“Have fun hosting,” Jimin said as he gently shrugged his friend’s hand off his lower back and gave him a quick smile. “Try to not drink yourself to death from the monotony.”


“Have fun going for a walk in the garden,” Namjoon retorted. “Try to not get lost in the maze.”


“Never, brother, I know that maze like the back of my hand,” Jimin stated boldly as he quickly weaved his way through gaps in the sea of bodies to get out onto the back balcony area.


Just like always there were people there too, and quite a few of them were skinny dipping in the massive pool that stretched across the garden area oblivious to the balmy weather. The sight was enough to make him feel the corners of his lips turning down in annoyance as he ran his eyes across the garden, the maze a rather imposing feature on the horizon.


Jimin found his gaze being drawn upwards as he went down the balcony steps, unable to resist the rather magnetic pull of the moon. It was hanging full and pregnant in the sky, a vivid wash of red over it so that it looked as vibrant as Namjoon’s dinner jacket. It wasn’t as smooth however, considering the deep craters and rugged surface that he could see through the tree branches. They stretched across the moon like skeletal fingers and as he got to the bottom of the staircase he paused to study it intently. It was so very enchanting, hypnotic even and-




Jimin jumped in surprise at the sudden screech of the crow, hearing it shifting somewhere in the trees with a series of rustling feathers and rattling noises. Then the bird took to the air with a hard flutter of wings, flying across the moon so that he caught sight of it for just a moment before it camouflaged itself against the black of the night sky and disappeared from view. Jimin stared up at the starless sky for a few seconds before suppressing a shiver from the chill and continuing forward on the manicured footpath.


The air was very chill tonight, made him almost regret leaving in just his jacket because it wasn’t blocking the cold at all. His exposed chest took the most of the cold, followed by his hands and ankles, but he supposed that the chill was invigorating in a sense. It might wake him up a little from all of the absinthe he had drank (of which he had difficulty remembering the exact amount) and so he just folded his arms over his chest as he carried on along the footpath. He could see the swimming pool at the edge of periphery, could hear people calling out to him to try and grab his attention, but he just blocked them out and didn’t so much as spare a glance over at them. He was much too busy looking at the tree inside the maze, the very top bowers visible over the height of the hedge walls like a flag, demanding just as much attention as the blood moon currently wanted.


Jimin hadn’t joked about knowing the maze like the back of his hand, for as long as he had been able to walk he had been playing around in that maze during the visits to the summer house. It had started with a manservant that had been his chaperone for most of his younger years, considering how his parents had been far too busy to see him for anything more than sparing visits. But as soon as Jimin had gotten old enough he had found sanctuary inside of it, had used to run inside to avoid his classes and teachers, leaving little clues behind to track his footsteps with ease back out. The clues had been symbols scratched with the soil with a stick, symbols that signified reversed directions that he had thought were so very smart back then. But he had sadly been unable to hide from business and language classes for too long, had really only stalled rather than avoided them.


Namjoon had often joined him back then, but his friend had much preferred finding the centre and sitting under the shade of the willow to read rather than play games. He had little interest in playing Hansel and Gretel style games of hide and seek or chasing the family dogs around in an attempt at playing tag with them. That probably explained why he didn’t really know his way around the maze even now as an adult. Which meant that he could probably run away into it now and actually escape his friend. There was a rather childish whim in the thought and he just knew that he would have to give into it one evening. The mere thought brought a smile to his lips and it was only as he was drawing closer to one of the entrances that he realised that he had been completely lost in his musings.


Jimin slowed down to a stop and turned on his heel to look back at the manor house, seeing how strangely small that it looked from across the field. The distance wasn’t that far at all but it suddenly seemed so from this side of the garden. Even when his ears could still detect the sonatas coming from the home he could no longer hear any of the guests talking at all, which was a great relief to him. It was almost like he had finally escaped from them, but that might not be the exact case. There might be some of them inside the maze, though he was hoping that that was not the case. The last thing that he needed was for them to defile this sanctuary of his with drunken antics. So Jimin turned back around to look at it, running his eyes over the wall of shrubbery for a moment.


The exterior looked so very imposing and the interior wasn’t much better. The straight paths that ran through it were dark during the daytime and even more so at night, for not even moonlight seemed to penetrate the high walls to offer guidance when one stepped inside. That made the maze even more disorientating, but not for him. No, Jimin knew that he would be able to enter and exit the maze at will without trouble, and so he moved to go through the entrance in front of him and started his wandering without a hint of reservation.


The soil crunched softly beneath his feet, and had it not been for the dry earth then the soles of his opera pumps wouldn’t have made a single sound. The heavy atmosphere of the maze, coupled with the beautiful faded music from the house, made him feel surprisingly light and Jimin found a slight skip in his step as he walked the length of the first path and selected the left option. He wasn’t exactly wandering, rather just walking with ease until he found himself either entering the centre or right back at the entrance again. Maybe going to the centre would be a good idea? He could sit under the tree, maybe on the rim of the fountain and just stay here for a while. Sure it was chill out tonight but the high hedge walls mostly blocked the cold breeze for him. He could clear his mind of annoyance and find a little bit of peace so that he might just sleep tonight without needing copious amounts of alcohol and pills to knock him out.


Jimin reached out to run his hand along the hedge wall, fingers stroking the little bumps of leaves and branches as he walked. His mental compass told him that the upcoming bisecting path was the first of several dead-ends that looped around on itself - a miniature maze within a maze - and so he was very careful to avoid taking the left to get stuck inside of the loop. So he selected the right and carried on deeper inside of the maze. When he spared a quick glance up he could still see the moon hanging in the air, casting little illumination into the maze. He was about to take another corner when he suddenly became aware of something…unusual.


There was someone else in the maze with him.


Jimin could hear clear footsteps coming from somewhere inside the maze, not matched with his own so that there was a slight delay in sounds. He would have thought that it was an echo of some kind had the noise not continued when he stopped walking. There was most certainly someone else inside the maze with him, walking at a steady pace and yet seemingly lost if his assumptions were correct. It sounded like whoever it was was caught in one of several looping dead-ends that would keep bringing them around in a vague circle without end until they took the right path. But taking said path required them knowing that they were stuck in the loop and not mistakenly believing that they were actually walking through the maze.


Ordinarily Jimin wouldn’t have cared about someone being lost in the maze at all, would have found it rather amusing, but not tonight. There was just something about the timing of the footsteps, the rhythmic crunch of soil and nothing more than that, that caught his attention. He would have expected that someone lost inside the maze would at least make a noise of some kind to attract attention, maybe even talk to themselves to fill the unsettling silence, yet this figure-less stranger, this ghostly being, was completely silent save for their footsteps.


Was it possible that he was just hearing things?


But that seemed highly unlikely. Jimin knew that he was slightly drunk but with absinthe came a rather clear head, meaning that he knew that he wasn’t drunk enough to be hearing things, or mistaking his own echo in foggy confusion. He felt lucid enough to know that he was hearing real footsteps coming from within the maze, for when he cocked his head he could almost determine where they were coming from. They seemed to be coming from the left. Which meant whoever was inside had been to the centre at some point, but had clearly gotten lost when leaving again.


Maybe there was actually a ghost in the maze?


“Oh, Jimin,” he muttered under his breath, voice barely even a whisper in the heavy quiet of the maze.


The thought was enough to make him scoff in disbelief that he had thought of something so childish. There were no ghosts in the maze, were no ghosts at all present on these grounds for his guests had already attempted occult games often in the past to no avail. It was fun watching them trying to claim the Ouija board glasses and the writing planchettes had moved on their own to spell and scrawl out messages from beyond the grave, but Jimin had always spotted the trickery from watching the guests ever so carefully. A quick expression would give it away, twitching fingers or too active a tongue. He had yet to see anything close to the paranormal happen during these games even when he was so very keen for something to happen. The supernatural was rather exciting after all, could still stir a slight hint of excitement inside of him long after the other amusements had grown cold and boring.


Therefore there was sadly no ghost in the maze, just probably a drunken guest that was walking around in circles and had been for quite some time now.


So Jimin moved to start going in their presumed direction, hoping to intercept them on their next loop and possibly assist them back out of the maze. It would take him just a few minutes to do so and at least then he would be left alone inside it. He took several corners and stopped in the middle of the first path of the loop, glancing both ways and yet seeing no one moving in his direction. He was almost about to believe that there was a ghost when he finally caught sight of movement coming from down one of the paths towards him. In the dark it took him a moment of study to discern that it was a male and then they stopped walking suddenly, no doubt catching sight of him standing in the rather discreet path.


“Don’t worry, I’m not a ghost,” Jimin remarked before giving him a quick smile. “But I know what you are: lost.”


“How’d you know I’m not a ghost?” the stranger asked in return, voice deep but not bland and monotonous.


No, there was a slight note of richness to it, something that made it rather interesting to listen to. Was that a hint of playfulness in his tone too, or was Jimin just hoping that to be the case?


“I don’t, but if you let me touch you I’ll know,” he retorted cheekily.


This caused a rumble of laughter from the stranger, natural and not at all forced like what he was used to hearing from guests. Jimin was so used to anything remotely witty he said being met with grating peals of laughter and hard smacks to the back so he greatly enjoyed laughter for laughter’s sake.


“And only if I touch you will I know you’re not a ghost too,” the stranger said.


It was a fair point, but Jimin wasn’t exactly going to argue against this now.


“Then why don’t you come closer and let’s test this theory?” Jimin suggested as unfolded his arms from in front of his chest and held his hand out, lightly flapping it to respectfully bade him over.


So after a few seconds of contemplation the stranger started walking down the last of the path to reach him.


From the current dim light the first thing he could see were his clothes and so Jimin studied his appearance intently. The other man was dressed finely, but not overwhelmingly so like some of the men inside the manor. His suit was mismatched so that the black fine woollen trousers were paired with a cream dinner jacket covered in floral print. To make the contrast less jarring there was a black silken shawl lapel, cuffs, and jetted pockets that made the jacket incredibly pleasing to look at. Underneath the jacket was a white silken shirt with a low neckline that didn’t plunge as deeply as his own but still revealed a nice hint of his chest, and there was a fitted black cummerbund around his waist. To complete the look he had a pair of calfskin single monkstrap shoes and something around his throat. From their current distance Jimin couldn’t discern what it was exactly but it looked to be a thick strip of fabric knotted around his throat like a choker.


“Did you come here with someone, huh?” Jimin joked with a slight smirk as he reached out to stroke the bush wall, feeling the springy greenery against his palm. “Did they run off and leave you all alone?”


“Actually, I’m lost,” the currently nameless stranger said before returning the smirk, his expression more sheepish than amused. “I wanted to go for a walk and I thought that the maze would be fun, until I-”


“Got lost,” Jimin finished for him, fingers snagging hold of the bush for a moment as he drew close enough for him to finally see his face.


“Exactly, now I don’t find this fun at all,” the other man added as he turned to look around himself briefly, eyes scanning the dirt ground, bush walls and even lifting to stare at the sky for a few seconds. “When seconds turn to minutes, and then an hour, it gets very repetitive.”


“An hour? Oh, you’ve missed so much fun,” he said with a dash of sarcasm, staring at his face without a hint of shyness.


The stranger had a soft face that seemed to contrast with his voice, all gentle edges and nothing sharp at all. His face was rounded with wide and high cheekbones, and because of his soft jawline the overall appearance was full rather than gaunt. His gentle sloping nose just added to this impression, as did his pouted and small mouth. But the feature that seemed to stand out the most were his eyes by far. The curve of his eyelid was fascinating to observe, gave his rounded eyes a somewhat feline shape. In the current dim lighting of the moon his eyes were twin pools of ink without a hint of colour in their depths, but when the moonlight hit his face just right it was like sparks shooting off flint. They almost seemed to glow from the red cast of the moon even when the rest of his face didn’t. It was just a simple trick of light but Jimin found himself enchanted, unable to look away when when the other man stopped studying their surroundings and returned his gaze.


“If it was fun then you wouldn’t be here,” he retorted as he cocked his head on a slight angle and proceeded to quickly run his eyes down him before lifting his gaze back to his eyes. He was much more discreet than him but Jimin had still been aware of the quick scan for it seemed intentional.


“Says the man that got lost first,” he stated, quite well prepared for a battle of wits with this complete stranger he had never seen before.


Was there a single male face currently at his parties that he didn’t know? He had never noticed before, but he knew for a fact he didn’t know this one.


The other man seemed to think this statement over for a moment and then he moved suddenly, catching him by surprise when his fingers took hold of his wrist. Jimin felt him tugging on it to lift it up, palm and fingers chill against his skin because he had been out in the cold for so long, and then he was hovering it in front of his face.


“See?” he said as he slowly brushed the backs of his fingers across his cheek for him.


Jimin felt soft and smooth skin, slightly cold from the night air just like his hands were. The stranger’s skin was lightly tanned rather than richly, a shade or three lighter than his own, and he noticed a glinting oval ruby set into a gold band on his thumb that clashed against his own sapphire ring.


“I’m not a ghost, you can touch me,” the stranger finished.


“Thank fuck for that,” Jimin declared with a smirk, pulling his hand free from his to quickly cup his cheek and feel the curve of his cheekbone with his thumb.


The other man let him do so without a hint of discomfort, staring at him in a strange mixture of fascination and something else he couldn’t seem to figure out. He was likely staring right back with the exact same expression.


“It’d be so painful to look but not touch. You should check that I’m not a ghost too.”


“I just did by touching your wrist,” the stranger stated, foiling him perfectly with a quick flash of a smile.


“Check again, I might just turn to smoke and disappear.”


“Then I’ll never get out of this fucking maze, will I?” the other man argued as he lifted his hand and pressed it against his cheek.


Jimin moved his head to lean into his touch, not even trying to be discreet. Having ascertained that he was indeed flesh and blood he expected that he would drop his hand back to his side again but he kept it in place instead. He waited with almost baited breath to see what he would do because the stranger was staring at him with an intense look of concentration on his face. But after a few seconds his expression softened again, brow and lips going somewhat slack.


“I can get you out of this maze,” Jimin said as he slowly reached up to place his hand over his, fingers brushing over his knuckles. “That is, if you actually wanna leave the maze and go back to the party?” The other man made a noise in agreement at this so Jimin sadly moved his hand away. “Then if you follow me I’ll-”


The stranger took hold of his wrist again rather than his hand, grip firm enough to catch him by surprise and make his breath hitch in his throat. It wasn’t tight like a vice, wasn’t painful, but it still made Jimin feel strange. Wasn’t he the one guiding him out of the maze? Shouldn’t he be holding his wrist instead, the one in control? But the other man just snagged hold of his wrist tightly and held on, silently telling him to lead the way out. Jimin hesitated for a moment before turning on his heel to do so, escorting him out of the meddlesome loop so that they could carry on walking through the maze.


“You know, I didn’t even think to ask your name,” he remarked as he spared a quick glance back over his shoulder at him.


Jimin saw that he was once again glancing around the path, mostly checking back over his own shoulder as if he was trying to figure out where he had made a mistake and gotten stuck. Or maybe he was just looking back at the willow to see if it was getting smaller and further away from them as they walked: a sure-kill sign that they were leaving the maze.


“Yoongi,” the stranger replied as he twisted back to look at him. “What’s your name, huh?”


“Jimin - wait, you seriously didn’t know my name, didn’t know me?” he asked curiously, eyeing the other man with a great interest as he did another quick scan around them. “This is my family’s summer manor, these are my grounds and I’m the host of this party, Yoongi.”


“I’ve never met you before; how would I know your name?” Yoongi argued as he turned his head to look at him, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he did. “I’ve never been to a party either, so I wouldn’t know you from another face in the manor.”


“I should hope not, my face’s much more pleasing,” he retorted, making the other man laugh softly.


“Mmm, that’s very true,” Yoongi agreed in a quiet voice.


“Besides, had you had been at another party of mine before…I think I’d have sniffed you out somehow,” Jimin remarked as he slowly ran his eyes down his body again; taking in his clothing and the way that his jacket was fitted and currently open to show his cummerbund, the silk snug around his willowy waist.


Such a small frame, such a slight waist and lean thighs, such a soft curve to his behind. No matter how much he mentally undressed him, Jimin was uncertain as to what would be hidden away under all of those layers of silk and finely woven wool.




“How so?” Yoongi asked, seemingly oblivious to his roaming eyes as they carried on walking through the maze.


“I’ve got a penchant for pretty things,” Jimin replied rather boldly, feeling no need to be subtle. If the stranger was here for the party then there was little need to be subtle with him. Whether he was present for the drugs, the sex - whatever it was, was of very little importance to him. “You’re a pretty little thing, Yoongi, a pretty little ghost wandering inside my maze. A babe in the woods.”


“A babe in the woods suggests innocence,” Yoongi said as he guided him around a corner and onto a new path, and so Jimin glanced back at him to see a rather wry smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “I have to disagree with that statement.”


“Then what should I say? A Devil in the woods?” he joked as he pulled him towards the next left at the bisecting path. “You don’t look devilish to me, Yoongi.”


“And how’d you know what The Devil should look like, mmm?”


“I don’t, but my guests like to call me ‘the prince of darkness’,” he replied before laughing heartily. “I think that means I’m a little more in tune with The Devil than most.” Jimin felt Yoongi’s fingers tightening around his wrist at this, digging in just that little more to border on painful in a somewhat pleasing way. “He seems like fun though, don’t you think? He just might like my parties.”


“Oh, he just might,” Yoongi agreed in a low voice as he pulled him along another path. “I think he might just like you a lot, Jimin. How’d you feel about being the prince?”


“I feel like I wanna be the king instead,” Jimin stated as he glanced up at the sky briefly, figuring out that they were almost out of the maze now. “That’s more powerful, more darker.”


“You like darkness?” the other man asked curiously, and so he made a noise in agreement. “Jimin, isn’t the moon beautiful tonight, mmm?”


“I’ve never seen a blood moon before,” he explained as he stared at the moon for a moment, both of them glancing up at the sky with wide eyes. “I heard that they’re a bad omen, but I don’t think they are.”


Yoongi asked him what he meant by this as Jimin pulled him around another corner.


“Well, I met you under a blood moon so I think that they’re a good omen.”


“Oh, Jimin,” Yoongi almost purred at him. “You’ve got a honeyed tongue, haven’t you? Does it taste like honey too?”


“You’ll have to taste it to find out,” Jimin replied with a wide smirk, turning back to wink at him.


In the current dim lighting Yoongi might not have even seen the gesture but judging from his low guffaw and his fingers tightening on his wrist he had seen it clearly.


“I do love honey…”


After a couple of minutes spent walking along paths and taking corners they finally reached the entrance of the maze. Jimin glanced up at the moon momentarily before dropping his gaze back down to look at the manor, seeing the various colourful lights coming from the different rooms like pinpricks across the garden and sadly hearing the sound of guests in the pool and on the balcony once more blending with the sonata. When he turned to eye the other man he saw that Yoongi was staring back at the dark maze entrance, so he spared another quick glance at the moon and wondered if it really was going to be his good omen after all.


“Why’d you stop walking?”


“I was planning on staying outside actually,” Jimin explained as Yoongi let go of his wrist. “Going for walks through the maze and around the garden to clear my head. You’re welcome to join me if you want, a walking companion would be very pleasing.”


“You should come back inside with me,” Yoongi said as he reached over to lightly take hold of his elbow, his voice soft and alluring. He cocked his head and gave him a smile, lips lifting to reveal his teeth. “It’s cold out here, the manor’s much warmer. We could talk in there, share food-”


“The little ghost is hungry?”


Starving,” Yoongi corrected, dragging the word out and lightly tugging on his arm. “If this is your party then you should act like a host and show me a good time, mmm?”


“Oh, Yoongi,” Jimin said as he pulled his arm free and moved to slip it around his waist, sliding it inside his jacket so that he could dig his fingers into his side instead. “I’ll be the perfect host just for you and make your head start spinning.” Yoongi leaned against him at this, that coy smile of his widening into a grin. “Now, let’s see to that hunger, hmm?”


“After the main course I might want some dessert,” he remarked as they started walking along the garden path together. “Might want some honey with my dessert. Except I won’t be drizzling honey on it, I’ll be drizzling it on the honey.”


Jimin felt his fingers pressing into his side hard and yet Yoongi didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He was used to lightly flirtatious words from his guests, both male and female even when his proclivities were well known to all (sadly including his parents). But Yoongi’s words just then hadn’t been lightly flirtatious, they had been borderline salacious. Just playing over his words in his head made him think of so many scenarios, so much filth that made his mouth almost flood with saliva and he swallowed hard.


When he spared a quick glance over at the other man he saw that Yoongi was still looking at him, that same grin present on his lips and his eyes glinting in the moonlight. Almost as if he had peeked right into his mind Yoongi stuck his tongue out to wet his lips, giving him a quick flash of slick pink.


Slick pinkness that would look so wonderful running over his fingers and down his wrist chasing a dribble of juice from a sweet fruit.


“What’s your favourite dessert, Jimin?” Yoongi asked, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he did. “Do you like…fruit? Or more sweeter things?”


Jimin thought that he would like absolutely anything if it was served by the other man, or more specifically on the other man.


“I like all sweetness,” he managed to reply with a slightly forced smile, pulling Yoongi that little bit closer so that he was almost giving him a sidelong embrace. “What does the little ghost like, hmm?”


“I like cream.”


“Cream?” Jimin repeated as they passed the swimming pool, confused by his reply because it wasn’t actually a dessert.


The other man nodded and then leaned closer to him.


“I like sucking it off my fingers,” Yoongi whispered down his ear, warm breath on his neck causing a delightful tremble to run down his spine and a heat to plunge down in the pit of his stomach.


Jimin tried to look unfazed by this but he was almost certain that Yoongi knew how his words had stirred excitement within him because he seemed to have a preternatural way of sensing what he was thinking.


“Then I hope there’s cream for you to enjoy,” he replied as he steered him in the direction of the balcony steps.


Surprisingly for once none of the outside guests actually tried to approach or call out to him but Jimin did feel their eyes going straight to them both. It seemed that they were curious as to who this newcomer, this attractive stranger, was just like him.


As they went up the steps and crossed the brief balcony to get inside Yoongi slowed his pace down, eyes growing rounded as they stepped through the wide open slide-glass doorway. He ran his gaze over the mass of guests currently packed inside and couldn’t seem to settle his focus on anything for more than a second as Jimin lightly pulled him in the direction of the food tables. Yoongi almost seemed to shrink against him, hinting at a possibility of him being shy or even having enochlophobia, as strange as the thought seemed. Someone with a great dislike of crowds should really avoid grand parties. But as quickly as his gaze darted around the room Yoongi also seemed to loosen up and not give off such a strong sense of flightiness. Especially when they passed the orchestral pit and he shifted to glance over the balcony at the musicians.


Jimin guided him over to the first of several long tables that ran along one of the grand hall walls, keeping his hand in place around his waist just for the sake of it. It took him a moment to drag his eyes away from the pit and when he caught sight of the tables he almost seemed to freeze up on the spot. Yoongi was staring at the tables of food with those wide and rounded eyes of his, like he had never seen anything like it before. Maybe he wasn’t a regular at such parties and that was why he seemed so surprised by it all; still rather innocent to the concept?


“There, food for the little ghost,” Jimin remarked with a smile, studying his face as the other man ran his eyes over the spread in front of him. Then he held out one of the serving plates to him. “Enjoy the first course.”


After a moment of study Yoongi accepted the plate moved to grab one of the poussins to place on it. Jimin expected that he would maybe move to fill it up with a mixture of food first before tucking into the serving, but he did no such thing. Yoongi tore through the poussin and proceeded to start eating it with much enthusiasm, doing so with his fingers and without much care for etiquette. There was something so strangely appealing in seeing him devouring the food like a man starved, considering how very few guests actually touched the food. It was almost like a compliment and Jimin watched him cheeking a mouthful of the moist white meat and grabbing at a vine of grapes to pluck swollen and plump fruits to pop into his mouth.


If he was that hungry and shameless with food, with his words, what would he be like with other things?


Jimin stuck his tongue out to wet his lips just thinking about it all, observing Yoongi tearing one of the small poussin legs free to shove it into his mouth and start pulling the meat free with his back teeth. Under the loud music coming from the pit he wasn’t quite sure if he heard a crisp snapping sound or not, that of tiny chick bones being crushed, but he doubted that he had.


Jimin decided to leave him by the table for a moment, moving to collect flutes of champagne for them both whilst Yoongi devoured the bird single-handedly. He hadn’t lied about being starving it would seem. On the walk to get to the other table Jimin caught sight of Namjoon standing close to the centre of the grand hall, seemingly regaling guests with a story of some kind and clearly feeling a nice rush from the absinthe earlier. So Jimin just tried to not catch the eyes of any of his listeners as he stopped in front of the serving table and grabbed two delicate flutes of golden and crisp champagne.


When he moved to cross the hall again to get to Yoongi he saw that the other man had piled up quite the amount of food on his plate, meat and fruit but mostly meat. Well, at least he was eating it unless everyone else. He held a flute out to him just as Yoongi finished shoving a rolled up slice of silverside beef into his mouth. The other man accepted the flute with slightly sticky fingers and sniffed at the contents as he chewed the serving of beef.


Jimin moved to pluck a strawberry from the platter and leaned over to dip it into a bowl of thick double cream. When he lifted it up the dip dribbled down his thumb oh so perfectly as he offered the fruit to the other man. Yoongi had just finished the beef and was in the act of sipping at the champagne when he did so, so he lowered the flute to study the fruit and then he lifted his eyes to hold his gaze. Jimin moved it forward to nudge against his lips and he opened his mouth, letting him pop most of the fruit inside; the cream smearing on his lips as he did. Yoongi bit down on the succulent and crisp fruit and then he stuck his tongue out to slowly lick at the cream.


“Good?” Jimin asked in a soft voice as he dropped the stalk onto the floor without a single care.


Yoongi chewed the strawberry and then he moved forward to lap his tongue out at the hint of cream on his thumb. But before Jimin could become bold enough to try dipping his fingers in the cream the other man turned on his heel and moved towards the orchestral pit, leaving him standing beside the table dumbly.


Oh he was maddening, a saucy little devil indeed. Jimin was going have to chase after him rather than have him following his every step like the other boys and men at his parties. The grand hall was almost like a new maze, one made of flesh and blood rather than hedges.


So Jimin moved to hastily follow after him, not wanting to appear too eager but unable to let someone else catch his attention. Luckily for him Yoongi had only wanted to observe the musicians and so he stopped beside him and leaned against the pit rail in an attempt at seeming casual. The other man had closed his eyes and had even stopped eating as he listened to the overpowering music coming from the pit; head slightly cocked and delicately moving with the notes. Jimin thought that he could probably spend the entire night just watching him listen and he wasn’t really sure how to feel about that currently.


“That’s simply…beautiful,” Yoongi said as he cracked his eyes open ever so slightly, peering through his eyelashes at him. “What is that, Jimin? What’s that masterpiece called?”


“It’s Tartini’s ‘Devil’s Trill’ sonata,” he explained with a hint of a smile as he studied the other man.


Yoongi was so immersed in the music that he was a sight to study, from his lightly swirling forefinger to the twitch of his brow when the harpsichord hit a dissonant certain key and seemingly pleased him.


“It’s a little bit haunting for some, a little bland for others, but I like it,” he added.


“It’s the most beautiful piece of music I’ve ever heard,” the other man stated as he grabbed another grape and proceeded to shove it into his mouth. “It sounded so beautiful in the maze but it’s even more beautiful now that I’m inside the manor. I wonder why?” Yoongi said as he turned to look at him, giving him a slight smile. “Perhaps it’s because music should be enjoyed in good company?”


“Hmm, speaking of company,” Jimin said as he moved to lean closer to him, hovering his lips just in front of the shell of his ear. “Care to join me in my cabinet room for some more intimate company?”


“Can I hear the music in your cabinet room?” Yoongi asked him as he knocked back the champagne in a deep swallow.


“You can hear the music,” he confirmed as he slipped his free arm back around his waist again. “There’s a hearth inside, it’s very warm and it’s perfect for…talking.” Jimin cocked his head to study his profile and he saw that Yoongi’s gaze was focused on the pit as he thought his words over intently. “You can bring dessert with you.”


At this Yoongi turned his head to look right at him, his nose almost rubbing against his. Jimin could see that he was staring at his lips and after a moment his own curved upwards in a smile.




“It looks like tonight might just become fun,” Yoongi agreed before grabbing a grape off his plate and popping it into his mouth for him.


Jimin cheeked the juicy fruit and proceeded to steer him away from the pit and across the grand hall. As they passed the food table Yoongi placed his empty flute down and grabbed another handful of strawberries to dump them onto his plate, letting out a low laugh as he did so. He couldn’t help but join him because there was a strange gaiety in air right now that Jimin hadn’t felt in so very long, that he had been rather certain he never would feel again. As he guided him across the hall he could feel countless pairs of eyes on him, some curious and some burning into him with heavy envy because he was giving this newcomer his absolute undivided attention. He couldn’t discern if one of those pairs of eyes were Namjoon’s, however, for he was much too busy staring at Yoongi.


“Why’d your guests call you ‘the prince of darkness’?” Yoongi asked as they stepped out into the foyer. “Don’t get me wrong, this level of indulgence alone is sinful but I’m curious; what else are you hiding from me, Jimin?”


“It’s likely because of the pleasure rooms,” Jimin explained as he carried on steering him across the foyer. “They’re sinfully sweet, a place of experimentation and complete submission to erotic impulses. Therefore they’re dark and evil by association; as all impulsive and hedonistic things seem to be. To me, however, they’re boring and predictable.”


“Pleasure rooms?” Yoongi repeated around a mouthful of pork, tone sounding interested but of a lesser degree than it had been all night long. “Your guests fuck in these pleasure rooms?”


“My guests, hired entertainers, whatever,” Jimin replied with a careless wave of the wrist, the slight remains of his champagne sloshing but luckily not spilling free onto the floor. “Like I said, they’re boring now.” The other man raised his eyebrows at this and so he laughed softly and leaned closer to him. “I’ve fucked every single male guest here tonight that has a penchant for men, that’s why they’re boring to me now.”


“Not every single one,” Yoongi remarked with a quick upward twist of the lips. Jimin felt a little eddy of excitement at this, finding the other man’s teasing highly enjoyable. “And your cabinet, is this a pleasure room too?”


“No,” Jimin explained as he caught sight of a male guest moving to get closer to them, to likely intercept them and try and catch his attention. “But I can make it into one, if you want?”


“Jimin, I was looking for you all night, I-”


Jimin didn’t even know this boy’s name so he just shoved his champagne flute into his hand roughly and carried on walking without a second glance at him.


“Do you want me to?” he repeated as they drew close to the cabinet room, slipping his arm free from his waist to grab the double handles of the doors.


Yoongi didn’t reply as he pushed the doors open, instead stepping inside first and leaving him hanging. There was that streak of coyness to balance out the salacious, just to make him even more intriguing.


“Mmm, I like this room,” Yoongi declared as he ran his eyes over the cream walls and white friezes slowly.


“Would you like some absinthe?” Jimin offered as he closed the doors shut behind him and leaned against them for a moment, watching the other man wandering across the cabinet room in the direction of the hearth. Yoongi studied the burning coals with a great fascination before turning to look over his shoulder at him and humming softly in agreement. “Then please, be seated and I’ll prepare us some.”


After a few seconds of contemplation, eyes running over the bookshelves and frames on the wall, Yoongi decided to sit on the salmon Chesterfield sofa that Namjoon preferred, leaving him with the white Cabriole just like usual. He sat down on it slowly, placing the plate of food on the seat beside him and elegantly folding one thin leg over the other. The position made his trousers hitch slightly, flashed a few inches of his lower leg, and Jimin found his eyes latching onto the exposed flesh. Such a slight joint, the protruding globe of his ankle bone strangely catching his eye as if it was something erotic. Yoongi settled back against the sofa, hands folding in place in his lap rather than on his knee.


“How do you usually take absinthe? Cold drip? Burnt?” Jimin asked as he collected the decanter of spirit and proceeded to pour a slight splash into the first crystal glass.


“Strong,” Yoongi replied as he watched him pouring the deep green liquid into the glass. “Just give me it strong.”


“As you wish,” he said with a quick smile as he put the decanter down.


Jimin placed the absinthe spoons over the rims of the glasses and he grabbed the soaked sugar cubes from the jar with the tongs, strong wafts of brandy coming from them as he placed one down onto each of the spoons. Then he grabbed one of the matches from the bowl, striking it hard against the edge of the table to ignite it. When he touched the end to the sugar cubes they burst alight and he shook the match out, the red head now a burnt black that he dropped onto the table without a care.


Yoongi’s eyes latched onto the flaming cubes and Jimin sat back against the Cabriole sofa, the quilted padding rubbing against his back as he stretched his arms over the slightly curved armrests to get comfortable.


After a moment of burning, the room filling with the scent of burnt sugar and alcohol, great droplets of it fell through the gap in the spoons to set the mixtures alight and then the rest of the cubes followed. So Jimin shifted to grab the carafe of iced water and poured it through the spoons, dousing out the flames and diluting the liquids so they would be able to drink it.


“What’re we drinking to?” he asked as he picked up the glasses and held his out to him, the one with an extra finger of spirit mixed in.


“To blood moons and good omens,” Yoongi replied as he accepted his glass and clinked them together, the crystal making a sharp sound as he did. “And to good food and even better music.”


“Hmm, I think we should drink to a fun evening,” Jimin added with a wry smile as he pulled their glasses apart again.


Yoongi knocked the glass back hard, swallowing the mixture and letting out a little noise as he lowered it again; a hiss that made his fingers twitch around the glass. He decided to copy him, knocking the mixture back in a deep and hard swallow and trying to not cough too hard from the heat of the spirit as it coursed down his throat and hit his stomach, blooming out into a delightful heat. He had only just placed the glass down when Yoongi moved to make more, once again adding a liberal splash of absinthe and preparing the spoons with sugar. Jimin rubbed at his nose and sniffed hard whilst the other man set the cubes alight.


“Mmm, such beauty,” Yoongi remarked in a soft voice as he stared at the flaming cubes.


Jimin wasn’t sure what he was referring to: the fire, the music, him? After a few seconds he lifted his gaze from the glasses to study him instead.


“Jimin, has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?”


“Yes, many times,” he replied before letting out a sudden laugh. “I’m told it countless times every single night, if I’m not I find excuses to hear it.”


“But d’you believe it when they say it?” Yoongi argued as sugar dripped down and set the alcohol alight. He made no move to put the flames out just yet and Jimin stared at the mixtures for a moment.


“I believe that I’m beautiful even if they don’t say it with much conviction,” he explained slowly. “I don’t need to be told I’m beautiful, but I like hearing it. It pleases me.”


“Then,” Yoongi grabbed the carafe and dumped water on the glasses, “let’s drink to your beauty. It pleases me too.”


“It’s not the only part of me that could please you,” Jimin retorted as he collected his glass and offered him the side. Yoongi clinked them together and then quickly moved to lean over the low table, entwining their elbows together. “I could please all of you.”


“Mmm,” Yoongi almost purred as he swallowed his absinthe again, not even fazed by their close proximity. “We could both please each other. D’you think I’m beautiful, Jimin?”


“You’re enticing,” Jimin replied after a quick swallow of his own drink, wanting to savour their physical closeness a little longer.


This made Yoongi’s lips curl up into a smile, incredibly pleased with his compliment.


“You’re a little ghost, The Devil, you’ve been everything so far yet nothing good.”


“I don’t want to be good,” Yoongi said as he watched him taking another swallow of absinthe. “You like bad things, I want you to like me.”


“Yoongi, I want you,” Jimin replied boldly as he lowered his empty glass and held his gaze. At this the other man chuckled, the softest puff of his breath hitting him as he did. “I always get what I want.”


“Oh, I’m more than willing,” Yoongi remarked as he sadly slipped his arm free and started making more absinthe.


“Tell me how beautiful I am,” Jimin said as he watched him dropping brandy sugar cubes in place and retrieving a match.


Yoongi glanced up at him as he set them on fire, narrowing his eyes slightly as he thought of the right words to serenade him with. So he waited patiently for him to do so. It was only after diluting the spirits that he seemed to have a suitable reply.


“Jimin,” Yoongi announced as he lifted his glass to him. “You’re so beautiful that I’d burn God’s very kingdom to ashes just for you.”


Jimin looked up sharply from their glasses, pausing in the act of bringing them together in surprise. Yoongi’s words had caused a shiver to run right down his spine, a shiver that wasn’t at all unpleasant. His words were so blasphemous and yet they had flowed off his tongue so sweetly, so perfectly, and Jimin liked them a lot. No one had ever voiced a want as grand as that before, and judging from Yoongi’s fervent expression he wasn’t lacking the conviction of his words.


“…Make sure to bring me His crown first,” Jimin joked as he clinked the glasses together hard.


This made the other man’s expression turn rather gleeful for a moment and he smirked at him because he was quite proud of this witticism.


Several minutes after his fourth serving of strong absinthe Jimin felt waves washing over him just like always, wonderful waves of cooling and soothing tranquility that came after the initial burst of energy the spirit gave him. He had witnessed people becoming serene first and then feeling stimulated, just like Namjoon, but he had never met someone before that seemed so unfazed by absinthe like the other man. Why, Yoongi wasn’t even in the slightest bit drunk and he had knocked several glasses back hard. He should at least be showcasing some symptoms, like a glassiness to his eyes, a slight heaviness of the tongue that made him slur his words somewhat. But Yoongi looked to be an even more lucid drunk than he was, barely even affected by it. All that had changed was that there was now a smile on his face.


Before Jimin could think of a smooth way of transitioning their playful words into physical play the doors across the cabinet room swung inwards and caught him by surprise. He dragged his eyes away from the other man’s face to see Namjoon shifting to appear in the doorway, and his arrival made Yoongi glance back over his shoulder curiously.


“Jimin, it’s time for games,” he stated as he spared a quick glance at Yoongi. “There’s to be a séance, you usually like those.”


“You take my place, Namjoon, I’ve got a headache,” Jimin said as he waved his hand at him, declining the offer. It was pretty obvious that he had no such thing but his friend wouldn’t argue otherwise. “Besides, I’m currently engaged in play with a rather tricky opponent,” he stated as he glanced back at Yoongi.


Namjoon thought this over for a moment before closing the doors without another word, leaving them alone again. Only when he did so did Jimin realise that the music was no longer playing, sadly paused for the sake of the séance.


“You like games?” Yoongi asked suddenly as he looked away from the door, those curious eyes of his growing even more so. Jimin made a noise in agreement at this and the other man shifted to place his empty glass on the tray. “Jimin?”


“Yes, little ghost?”


“Let’s play a game,” Yoongi said as he reached up to tug on the strip of fabric around his neck.


Jimin watched him hastily pulling it free to reveal a thick strip of black silk, and he held it both of his hands almost in offering to him with a wide grin.






The cabinet room was sadly almost silent now that the musicians had stopped playing in the grand hall. If not for the faded sounds of countless mortal voices coming through the thick doors, the only sound in the entire room would be the lowly crackling fire in the hearth just beside them both. Yoongi was disappointed to find his ears no longer blessed with that dissonant harmony, but right now he was focused on something much more important than music: Jimin.


Yoongi stayed perfectly still as he studied the other man, seeing the glowing orange cast of the hearth highlighting the side of his face. In the dim ceiling lights it actually greatly illuminated his features. Jimin’s somewhat droopy eyes, heavily outlined in something black and smudged, reflected the flames back at him and he almost seemed to radiate strong enough light and warmth to touch him with a wave of energy. Having touched his hands and cheek earlier Yoongi knew that he did indeed have a great warmth to him that was at odds with everything else about him.


But those eyes! Those unflinching and smouldering eyes that glowed ember from the hearth fire! No mortal had ever looked upon him so boldly and wantonly before, not even the men that he had seduced and corrupted with his tongue, not even that pesky ant saviour that he had so wanted to crush under his heel until the worms had done it for him. If Yoongi hadn’t known better then he would have thought this mortal was a demon in disguise, or a lost angel that had escaped the casting down into Gehenna all of those centuries ago and had managed to roam the earthen realm undetected until now.


But Jimin was most certainly mortal, that much he knew. A mortal with a soul that was dripping venom, that was cancerous at this point. So youthful in years and yet ancient in sin.


The Dragon was right; The Unholy One was walking the very earth, was right in front of him and completely unbeknownst of this fact. Jimin was ignorantly trapped inside this mortal shell, longing for release of some kind into a more plastic form that would contain unspoken power and knowledge; and Yoongi was going to give it to him because he knew that he was the chosen one.


This sweet prince of darkness, this lover of filth and blackness, was as warm as the very rays of God’s light, and Yoongi wanted to bathe in that heat and light for eternity.


Though he tried to keep his expression neutral Yoongi could sense that the mortal was greatly interested in what he had just said to him. Over the duration of the evening so far he had observed that Jimin had a rather noticeable habit of trying to suppress too much of an interest in something, that he constantly tried to appear less aroused by certain words or suggestions to give off a cool and disinterested vibe. But it didn’t work on him, not nearly as much as he thought that it did.


No, Jimin gave off signs of interest by doing one of several things: playing with his rings, sticking his tongue out to wet his rouged lips, or narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. Upon him requesting that they play a game Jimin’s tongue once again made a brief appearance, and he didn’t so much as squint as twitch his eyelids at him. Yoongi was interpreting that as a sign of great interest even when he was trying to act like it wasn’t so keen.


“Is this game naughty, Yoongi?” Jimin asked him as he shifted on the sofa to get more comfortable. He folded one leg over the other in perfect imitation of him and cocked one elbow on the curved armrest to rest his cheek against the backs of his fingers. “I only like games if they’re dark or naughty. Everything else is child’s play, it doesn’t interest me.”


“Mmm, it can be naughty,” Yoongi explained as he slowly rubbed his thumb over the silken material and heard it rustling softly. “D’you wanna know what the rules are?”


“Of course.”


“It’s a very simple game, all that I’ve gotta do is blindfold you and you’ve gotta guess what I’m touching you with,” Yoongi explained as he held the strip of silk out in front of him, and Jimin dropped his gaze to stare at the black fabric for a few seconds before he looked up at his face again. “You can use your fingers, your nose, your lips, anything you can sense with.”


“Sensation play,” Jimin said as his lips twitched up at the corners. “Did you pick one of my favourite games on purpose, Yoongi?”


“I picked a game that can be both fun and sensual,” Yoongi explained with a quick smile. “A game of teasing and lighthearted play; don’t you think that this’ a great way to start the evening of fun?”


“I do,” Jimin agreed before laughing softly and moving to slip his velvet dinner jacket off. “Blindfold me, little ghost, I’m game.”


Yoongi found his lips splitting into a wide grin as he got off the sofa and moved over to him. He had no real need to linger here this evening now that he knew who his intended was; could pass through the veil back into Gehenna to report his victory to The Dragon and seek his most beloved general out to help initiate the plan. But Yoongi was captivated by this mortal and he didn’t want to disappear into the night just yet. Right now Jimin was so very keen on sharing his touch, sharing his warmth with him, and he would be foolish to not let him do so. He had been hungering for his presence for so long, he deserved this sinful treat.


The true marriage of flesh and blood could come in time, this was just a game after all.


“I’m hoping you’ll touch me with more than just objects,” Jimin remarked in a giddy tone as he glanced back over his shoulder at him.


“I should be the one hoping to get to touch you,” Yoongi corrected as he reached over to slip his arms around his shoulders, the strip of silk dangling in his hands. “Now, sadly I must cover those pretty little eyes of yours to start to game.”


“You should kiss them before you do,” Jimin said as he rolled his head back to look up at him, honey hair brushing against his chin and causing a jolt to shoot down Yoongi’s spine. “Make that a new rule.”


Yoongi looked down at him to see his flushed cheeks and inebriated eyes, ruddy with life and delight. Jimin held his gaze for a moment and then closed his eyes to encourage him to kiss him. So Yoongi lowered his head and hovered his lips over his left eyelid, hesitating briefly before pressing a chaste kiss on his skin. Through his thin eyelid he felt Jimin’s eye rolling from the contact and he moved to kiss the other as he let his breath out in a sigh. Before Jimin could think of another smart suggestion Yoongi slipped the blindfold over his eyes, so the mortal lifted his head to allow him to tie it in place.


“Yoongi?” Jimin asked suddenly as he wrapped the ends of the silk around each other and pulled taut. “You didn’t explain the rules fully. How do I win, or lose, should winning not be an option?”


“You get three guesses and then the game ends if you don’t get it right,” Yoongi explained as he looped the ends into a loose bow. Jimin’s hair was slightly messy from the tightness of the material, his ears almost covered fully too. “Are you ready, sweet prince?”


The mortal laughed heartily at this and Yoongi stroked his hair to smooth the stray locks down again. He already knew his first item of choice because it was easy to guess and would start the game well, so Yoongi slipped out of shoes to mute his footsteps and moved over to the salmon-coloured sofa to grab a strawberry from the plate. It was chilled and beaded with condensation so he carried it back over to the mortal and got in place behind him.


“Can you guess what this is, mmm?” Yoongi asked in a whisper, feeling Jimin squirming slightly from his breath on his exposed neck.


The first place that he touched him with the strawberry was the dip between his clavicle, that perfect ‘v’ recess of smooth and tanned skin. As he rubbed it along the curve of the bone it left a smear of water rather than beads and Jimin slowly turned his head as if to try and track its movement. Before the fruit touched the neckline of his shirt Yoongi lifted it to stroke it down the bridge of his delicately pointed nose.


“Oh!” Jimin exclaimed before giggling and trying to track the strawberry with his lips, the painted rouge almost the exact same shade.


Yoongi kept moving it away before he could and instead rubbed the fruit against his cheekbone. The contact made him fall still as he no doubt tried to discern the textures.


“First guess?”


“That’s a strawberry, Yoongi,” Jimin stated with a confident upwards curve of his lips. “I can feel the little seeds on my cheek, and smell it too.”


“And now you get to taste it,” he replied as he moved to prod the strawberry against his mouth.


Jimin opened his lips for him to allow him to slip the fruit inside his mouth and then he bit down. When Yoongi pulled the stalk free he saw a dribble of juice escaping the corner of his mouth so he hastily wiped it with his thumb and stuck it in his mouth, sucking it up greedily.


“Hmm, I wonder what’s next?” Jimin asked as he cocked his head back at him.


“Patience, sweet prince, you’ll find out soon enough.”


Yoongi moved back over to the other sofa and unzipped one of the cushions to tear into the cotton seam, plucking a large downy feather free from the mass and eyeing it for a moment. When he brushed it on the underside of his chin he found that the sensation was already highly pleasing without the deprivation. So he carried it back over to the mortal and leaned over him, eyeing his exposed flesh to find his next mode of teasing attack.


Yoongi brushed the feather against the still exposed lower curve of his ear, right behind it in a wonderfully sensitive spot. This made Jimin shudder and make a soft noise under his breath, a noise that made him smirk. After tickling the shell of his ear he moved it along to the curved ball of his jaw and then down his neck, once again making him squirm on the sofa cushion.


“Can you tell what is is?” Yoongi asked him as he stroked his mouth with the feather, seeing the edges splitting and caressing against his full pouted lower lip.


“It’s like you’re touching me with air, like…” Jimin paused and then snorted laughter. “It’s a feather, isn’t it?”


“You liked that, didn’t you?” Yoongi asked as he tickled his nose. Jimin twisted away from him and a rather cute sneeze escaped him, one that made his shoulders lift and fall hard. “You like ticklish things.”


“Who doesn’t?” he retorted as he covered his nose from any more attacks and turned his head slightly in the direction of his voice.


So Yoongi blew the feather out of his palm and he quickly scanned the cabinet room to locate something else. There was a table across the room beneath a mounted wall mirror, on which there was a vase filled with a bouquet of flowers. There was a selection of different coloured blooms inside it so he crossed the room to eye them more closely. In the reflection in the mounted wall mirror in front of him Yoongi could see Jimin moving one of his hands from the sofa cushion onto his lap, gently kneading the heel of his hand against his crotch. The sight was enough to make him pull his lower lip in to nibble on it, seeing just how keen and excited he was, and he plucked a daisy free from the spread. When Yoongi stroked the flower against his face it was no surprise that he quickly figured out what it was. The petals were pointed and smooth, unmistakable when it touched his skin.


“It’s a flower,” Jimin said in a matter of fact voice.


“Mmm, but what kinda flower?”


“Did that count as a guess? Or do I get three flower guesses?”


Yoongi explained that he could guess three flowers and so Jimin took a moment to try and figure out what it was. He stroked the flower head along his nose and the mortal let out a soft laugh as his nose twitched from the contact and scent.


“Oh! I know what it is! It’s a daisy.”


So Yoongi moved the flower to his mouth without much thought, attempting to slip it between his lips.


“I can’t eat that!” Jimin argued as he reached up to grab hold of his wrist and lightly pushed his hand away. “I can’t eat daisies, Yoongi.”


“Have you ever eaten a daisy before, mmm?”


“Not to my knowledge,” the mortal stated as he cocked his head back, almost as if he was looking up at him even when he couldn’t do so because of the blindfold. He kept a hold his wrist rather than let go. “Maybe in tea, maybe as a garnish, but not raw.”


“Daisies signify innocence,” Yoongi explained as he gently brushed the head along the curve of his jawline, twirling the thin stem between his fingers as he did so. The petals rubbed against Jimin’s golden flesh, the contrast between the white and tan so pleasing to his eyes. “I don’t like them very much, I think they’re disgusting. Disgusting little flowers. I want to set them all on fire. A field of burning daisies is the only way daisies should be appreciated.”


“You don’t like innocence?” Jimin asked him, drawing his attention back from the flower to his face.


Yoongi glanced at his masked eyes and then hummed in agreement. This made the mortal’s lips twitch at the corners.


“Me neither, innocence is for people too blind to understand reality.”


“Mmm, you’re far from innocent; aren’t you?” Yoongi remarked, once again leaning forward to hover his mouth just above his neck. “My little daisy.”


This made Jimin sigh ever so slightly and turn his face away from him, angling his neck almost in offering for a kiss…or a bite. He caressed down the side of his throat with the flower and Jimin’s fingers fumbled along the backs of his knuckles until he managed to find his fingers. Then he slipped them inside of his, pulling the daisy into their palms so that he could crush it between their entwined fist. Yoongi felt it crumpling so that a slight hint of liquid and pollen smeared on their skin messily, the head giving a soft crunching sound as it was destroyed so perfectly.


“Don’t call me a daisy after calling them ‘disgusting’,” Jimin said in a surprisingly firm tone as he relinquished his hold on his hand. “How cruel you are, Yoongi.”


“Mmm, I’m The Devil,” he agreed with a smirk that the mortal wouldn’t see but could likely detect in his voice. “That must make you an angel.”


“I’m beautiful enough,” Jimin agreed, the remark making him snort laughter as he brushed the sticky remains of the daisy off his palm and onto the floor. There was a mixture of yellow pollen and green chlorophyll on his skin and so he wiped his palm onto the thigh of his trousers without a single care.


“No, you’re more beautiful,” Yoongi argued as he moved across the room again to find another flower with which to tease him with.


There were so many in the vase and yet none of them seemed to appeal to him greatly until his eyes happened to fall upon a violet nestled near the back. He plucked it out and proceeded to lift it up under his nose, inhaling its perfume. It was a Rebecca violetta, a heady scent of similar to vanilla coming off the mottled purple and white petals. So Yoongi carried it back over to the sofa and stood behind the mortal, leaning forward over him and once again gently brushing it across his jawline and cheek until Jimin furrowed his brow slightly.


“That’s a violet,” he stated as Yoongi carried on stroking him with it, the petals brushing along his brow and the silken blindfold. “Do you hate them too? Or do you like them?”


“Violets signify death,” he explained as he lifted the flower off his masked eyes and hovered it over his mouth. “I love them. But I’d still set them on fire and eat them, if I pleased. Open up and taste death on your tongue, angel.”


Jimin actually opened his lips, imploring him to prod the flower head between them so that he could bite down on the petals. Yoongi saw the way that the gentle and shapely petals first crumpled between his teeth, and were then crushed as he bit into them. Rather than spit it out in disgust Jimin actually pulled the flower head into his mouth, his teeth biting down into the stem to sever it fully and allow him to eat the violetta.


“Isn’t it sweet?” Yoongi crooned out as he watched him chewing on the flower, dropping the stem onto the floor.


“Are you going to feed me a whole bouquet, Yoongi?” Jimin asked him as he turned his face, nose brushing against his hair. “I’d prefer fruit, or absinthe.”


“I’m building it all up,” he explained as he let go of the sofa back and stroked at his hair softly. “That’s how the game works, angel, I work up to the good things - the pleasurable things.” At this Jimin stuck his tongue out to wet his lips, clearly finding this fact enticing. “It’s not fun to start with the good things. Don’t you like teasing?”


“I love teasing,” he retorted as his hand once again shifted onto his thigh, discreetly massaging and digging his fingers into his skin impatiently. “But it’s much more fun with actual body parts involved, you know: fingers, tongues, mouths.”


Oh, this mortal was shameless. So very shameless. He might just have met his match in terms of salacious language and behaviour, and he found this highly pleasing.


Rather than reply Yoongi ran his eyes along the interior of the room, trying to locate his next item of choice. His gaze went straight to the candle bracket on the wall, in which several candles were currently - and rather pointlessly - burning. So he moved over to it to study them more intently, seeing tall and thin white sticks and tracing the dried trickles of wax down their smooth sides. Then he reached over to hover his finger over one of the candles, almost touching the burning wick. Yoongi dabbed his fingertip into the pool of liquid wax, feeling the instant heat on his skin that was quickly replaced by a hard film as it cooled on his fingertip and grew taut. He peeled it free and selected one of the candles from the bracket, carrying it back over to the mortal and getting into position.


Jimin was sitting back against the sofa, lounged rather casually and giving off a hint of being bored by this game. But he wouldn’t be for much longer.


Yoongi hovered the candle over him for a moment, locating the right place to spill the first droplet of wax. His shirt neckline was rather deep, a ‘v’ that revealed his collarbones and a hint of his smooth chest, a slight swell of muscle visible. After some contemplation he settled for his upper chest and he lightly tipped the candle so that a small splash of liquid spilled down to land on his skin.


When the wax hit his exposed chest Jimin took a sharp intake of breath and his hips involuntarily bucked upwards from the sudden heat. Yoongi saw a fat bead forming between the juts of his clavicle and the droplet ran down ever so slightly before cooling onto his skin into a waxy substance: pearlescent white. He threw his head back against the sofa and Yoongi could see his lips moving for a moment before he managed to speak.


“I…do it again, I’m not sure,” he breathed out as his fingers sank into the sofa cushion.


Yoongi knew that Jimin knew exactly what it was that had just been dropped on his chest because there was no possible way of mistaking it for anything else. He was also so very certain that the mortal knew he was aware of this fact, which might just give him a little kick of pleasure, he supposed. And Jimin had most certainly enjoyed that, if his twitching hips and lips were anything to go by.


So Yoongi let more liquid gather in the dip around the wick before hovering it over his chest again, tipping another drop of liquid wax onto his skin. This one landed on his right collarbone and the droplet started rolling down the curve instantly. The first splash was still running and in the act of hardening when he tipped it to spill even more onto his skin, making Jimin’s breath hiccup in his chest as his fingers scratched at the velvet. This splash hit him on the soft swell of his chest and yet the mortal didn’t even attempt to guess what it was, to carry on with the game.


Ah, Yoongi,” he gasped, clearly trying to suppress any more spasmodic bucks but struggling to do so.


“What is it, angel? You get three guesses.”


“If I get it wrong will you…you punish me?” Jimin asked in an uneven voice as he dropped his head back on the sofa and once again tried to look at him through the blindfold. Yoongi could see his lips quivering slightly as he took quick intakes of breath, and he made a noise in agreement. “A rose, you’re touching me with a rose.”


“No, you’re wrong.”


Yoongi snagged a hand under his chin to hold his head in place, feeling Jimin reaching up to hold onto his forearm in a tight vice as a little breathless moan escaped his lips. The mortal’s heart was pounding fast and hard so that he could feel it against his fingers, a war drum-like beat. As he left the wax to pool around the wick he saw Jimin fumbling at the front of his shirt, tugging at the strings to try and loosen it and expose even more skin. After a moment of struggling he just settled for wrenching the lengths free from his trousers and lifting it up to expose his stomach to him instead. Yoongi could see how rapidly it was lifting and falling as he took shallow and quick breaths, and just like his chest there were hard hints of muscles dimpling under his smooth skin.


“Do it,” Jimin breathed out heavily. “Punish me, you devil.”


Yoongi tipped the candle so that a liberal amount dropped down to hit his stomach, splashing across his skin and making him moan again as a hard shudder ran through his body. His pulse and moan vibrated through his throat against his fingers, made him tighten his hold on his chin almost painfully tight. The wax started to harden on his skin in a large puddle, little specks scattered around it so obscenely that Yoongi felt the most pressing urge to wet his lips.


“What is it, angel?”


“It’s, uh, it’s-” Jimin struggled to shrug his open shirt down, exposing the curved ball of one shoulder and most of his left breast as he did so. Yoongi’s eyes latched onto the sight of his now exposed nipple, that rounded nub of slightly pink flesh. “Absinthe, you’re splashing me with absinthe.”


Yoongi spilled more down onto his stomach rather than his chest just to catch him by surprise, hearing him hiccuping on his breath at the sudden heat. Jimin squirmed on the cushion and took several ragged breaths before throwing his head back again.


“Cum!” he cried out breathlessly as he palmed at the front of his trousers fast and hard. “You’re cuming on me, nnn.


Yoongi blew on the candle hard to extinguish the flame and then he dropped it without a single care. He leaned over the sofa and pressed his mouth against his, feeling Jimin’s rapid breath against his lips for a moment until he returned the kiss. He didn’t do so gently, uncertain and exploring with his fumbling tongue. No, Jimin opened the kiss up with a hard jab of his tongue, forcing his lips open. Yoongi felt it slipping inside his mouth, hot and wet and curling to brush against his, and he ran his hand down from his chin to roam it across his exposed chest and stomach. He felt his fingers scratching against the dried wax to peel it free and Jimin reached up with one of his hands to snag his fingers in his hair.


Being kissed by those lips, those warm and sweet lips, made Yoongi feel like he was being blessed by God Himself. He could feel heat spilling inside of his body that he hadn’t felt in centuries, pure heat and light and not the consuming flames of salvation that had scorched him. How could such a mortal frame hold such heat and not combust?


Jimin didn’t fully break the kiss but rather just slipped his tongue free to find his lips instead. He licked and then sucked his lower lip between his teeth, biting down hard but not enough to break the skin. Yoongi’s very knees seemed too weak to hold his weight and a sigh of exaltation escaped his mouth that Jimin almost swallowed whole with another kiss.


“Do it again,” the mortal breathed out against his lips. “Do it again, Yoongi, it felt so good I-”


“I can’t, you lost,” Yoongi stated as he pulled his face away and tugged on the back of the blindfold, freeing him from it. The material came loose easily and he dropped it onto the cushion beside the mortal, seeing him squinting for a moment at the sudden light. “The game’s finished.”


Jimin rolled his head back against the padded back of the sofa so that he could look up at him intently, his exposed eyes almost burning into him and his parted lips slick with saliva and smudged lipstick. His chest and stomach were covered in pink blossom-like marks from the hot wax. Yoongi could see that he was thinking of something to say, to do, in retaliation to this sudden end of the game. But he was telling the truth. The mortal had guessed wrongly three times and so he had lost the game.


“Mmm?” Yoongi purred as he looked right back down at him.


His hands were squeezing hold of the cushion either side of his head and he even raised an eyebrow languidly, watching Jimin wetting his lips. Or maybe licking his lips to taste him again.


“I don’t think it’s finished…”


Jimin grabbed hold of his wrist and tugged on it, making him cover his eyes again with his palm. Clearly he really didn’t think that the game was over yet, which showed that he was terrible with sportsmanship. Yoongi settled his hand in place, his heel and palm covering his eyes perfectly and his fingers stretching over to brush against his hair, and he studied his face intently.


“I only got one wrong,” Jimin continued as he settled on the seat to get more comfortable. “Surely the game can’t finish like this? Give me another shot, huh?”


Yoongi eyed his rather pleased smile for a moment, playing over his choices as he did so. Now that he was covering his eyes with his hand there was very little he could do, for every possible play toy was situated across the cabinet room out of his reach. That meant that the mortal had left him with nothing more than his body to play the game: an incredibly cunning move on his behalf. So Yoongi moved closer to him, gazing at his profile for a few seconds, and then he darted forward to press his lips against his skin.


“A-an ice cube,” Jimin stammered as he sucked a kiss behind the shell of his ear, lapping his tongue out to trace circles against his sensitive flesh.


“Wrong, much too cold,” Yoongi breathed out as ran his tongue down the curve of his neck to his trapezoid, feeling the firm muscle against his lips until he opened them to bite down hard.


Jimin let out a shout that was more surprised than pained, jerking on the sofa as he held on tight.


“A…a spider, you put a spider on me,” the mortal said as he moved his lips along his muscle, pressing chaste kisses on his hot skin.


Yoongi didn’t need to tell him that he was wrong and he just sank his teeth into the curve of his shoulder instead. Jimin almost writhed in his hold, likely palming at his trousers again desperately.


“You’re gonna lose,” Yoongi remarked as he moved away from his shoulder and started kissing down the gentle swell of his breast, slipping his free arm around his ribs in a semi-embrace. This made Jimin laugh breathlessly, his body vibrating from the sound against his so wonderfully. “You’re the prince of darkness but not the prince of games…”


“I’m playing my own game now, Devil,” Jimin whispered against his hair, his voice dripping with wicked amusement and lust. “I’m winning.”


“What’s touching you?”


“Me, I’m touching myself,” he retorted wittily without a hint of hesitation.


Jimin was telling the truth, Yoongi could see the measured strokes of his palm against the swollen bump in the thigh of his trousers, but he wasn’t going to win this round. So he tugged on his shirt hard enough to hear one of the shoulder seams tearing, the material sagging down to expose his full breast to him. Yoongi’s mouth trailed down the hard muscle until he latched his lips around his nipple and sucked.


Ah,” the mortal whimpered pathetically.


The noise spurned Yoongi on, made him trap the hard nub between his upper teeth and tongue to flick the tip of his tongue against it rapidly.


“Yoongi, yes,” Jimin sighed as slipped his hand inside his trousers and tried to resume masturbating.


But the material was too tight for him to do so, leaving him no choice but to try and fumble his cock free from them. Yoongi released his nipple from his teeth and he watched him struggling with the top button of his fitted trousers, fingers too weak and shaking to properly pop it open.


“One more, one more, shit, one more round,” Jimin said, words spilling out so fast he made it all run into one long word. He was still freeing himself from the material but when Yoongi straightened up again he managed to do so. “Best of-of three.”


“Final round?” Yoongi asked as he watched him spreading his thighs wide and opening the flaps of his trousers.


When Jimin lifted his hips up slightly his cock sprang free from the material with a series of hard twitches, fully erect and flush against his stomach. He could see the smooth skin of his pubis and Yoongi wanted to suck and sink his teeth into that mound of skin so badly. Jimin took himself in hand but he didn’t stroke himself just yet, rather just kept his grip firm around his base.


“Yes, fuh-final round,” he mumbled out as he stuck his tongue out to wet his lips, eyes still hidden behind his hand. “All or nothing, don’t hold back.”


“Mmm, angel, I never disappoint,” he purred as he lifted his free hand and stroked his hair back off his brow.


Jimin’s cheeks were flushed pink and there was a light sheen of sweat breaking out of his chest and brow. As he fingered a lock of honey hair between his fingers he figured out what his last tease was going to be, so he let go of his hair and hovered his hand over his mouth.


Yoongi traced around his mouth with his index and middle finger, fingertips skating over the plush and wet skin and feeling Jimin pouting them out to try and kiss him. His lips were quivering in anticipation and so he slipped them inside his mouth. The first thing that he felt was the heat of his breath and then the wetness of his tongue as he curled it up to lick at his fingers invitingly. Yoongi slid them in until the hard press of his upper teeth were digging into his knuckles and his fingertips were almost grazing the very back of his throat. Jimin’s tongue was trapped flat under his fingers and yet he still tried to lift it, to curl it and moan around his fingers. The muffled moan meant that more hot breath hit his fingers, made his lips tightened around them.


Yoongi kept them in place for a moment before slipping them back, allowing him to them slide them forward again and simulate thrusts in his mouth. Jimin reached up with his free hand so that he could clamp it over his wrist tightly, wrinkling the fabric of his jacket. He looked down to see that the mortal was stroking himself in rhythm with his thrusting fingers; his fist making a soft slapping sound around his cock.


“Think about it, angel,” Yoongi said as he lowered his head to press his chin against the crown of his hair. “Think carefully: what’s in your mouth right now?”


When he pulled his fingers free he saw a trail of spittle hanging from his fingertips to his lips which snapped and splashed down his chin. Jimin tried to chase after his fingers, mouth slack and begging him to slip them inside again. In the act of doing so he knocked his hand free from his eyes but they were still squeezed shut tightly, allowing him to cover them again.


“A cock,” he breathed out, cheeks flushed pink and a light sheen of sweat on his brow. “It was a cock.”


“You’ve gotta guess what it is, not what you want,” Yoongi retorted as he slipped his fingers inside his mouth again with a deep jab and heard him gagging around them.


Jimin let go of his wrist so he could use both of his hands, pumping one around his length and trapping his head between his fingers of the other to knead at it hard. Yoongi simulated several more thrusts in his mouth and then he slipped his fingers free again.


“What is it?”


“A snake.”


“One more guess,” Yoongi said as he removed his hand from his eyes and looked down at him.


Jimin opened his eyes to stare right back up at him, mouth already open wide in preparation for his fingers. He even stopped kneading at his head to grab his wrist again and encourage him to slide his fingers back between his lips. So Yoongi did so, once again shoving them in deeply in retaliation for the wrong answers and hearing the mortal gagging.


Jimin’s cock was tight in his grip, a bead of precum bleeding out of his slit and dribbling down his twitching head onto his fingers. Yoongi tracked it almost hungrily, sticking his tongue out to wet his own lips, and when he shifted his gaze to look at the mortal he saw his eyelids fluttering. Jimin let out another choked moan as he bit down on his fingers, rolling his eyes up to stare at him. There was such a raw and burning passion in them that Yoongi could see not a hint of shyness or reservation; all that he could see was lust and hunger.


“Get it right and you’ll get a reward,” Yoongi offered as he pressed his lips together to stop himself from drooling.


This made Jimin twist on the cushion, turning his head to knock his hand free from his mouth with a series of nonsensical noises.


“Fingers,” he moaned, “it’s your fingers.”


Yoongi knew that he shouldn’t do this, that he shouldn’t sample the flesh of his intended before any of the plans had been solidified, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally understood why several of his generals had been cast down to Gehenna with him for engaging in coitus with mortals; understood that raw hungering for sexual satisfaction. And it wasn’t even solely his own lustful urges. His own excitement seemed like nothing in comparison to his want to satisfy his beloved, to make him want him. Yoongi needed and wanted him so badly that he was aching, but that needed to wait.


But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t satisfy the mortal in another way.


Yoongi leaned over the sofa, stretching as far as he could to almost drop his head in his lap. Jimin laughed in surprise at this and he fumbled his hand off his cock, quickly pressing it against his mouth to suck and lick at the dribble of precum. Then he grabbed his base firmly and angled his cock so he could take him into his mouth.


“Mmm, what’s in your mouth, Yoongi?” Jimin sighed as he sank back against the sofa, one hand settling on the back of his head so he could snake his fingers through his hair. “Don’t guess, juh-just play the game.”


Yoongi cheeked his head so that he could move his tongue, curling it around his cock and tracing his length with the tip as he sucked on him. Jimin let out a breathless noise as this and tightened his hold on his hair, tugging hard. Yoongi could taste him on his tongue, salivating heavily at the bitter note, and he found his hips unconsciously grinding against the padded and firm back of the sofa. It felt so good that he ground in hard circles as he massaged at his length and base, alternating between quick and smooth pumps of his fist to slower ones that allowed him to twist his wrist and knead him with his thumb and fingers.


Yoongi breathed heavily through his nose, slipping his head free from his cheek to take more of his length into his mouth. He could hear Jimin’s uneven breathing filling the cabinet room, as beautiful as the sonatas had been. When he opened his mouth wider and bobbed down the length of his cock Jimin took a sharp intake of breath that escaped his mouth in a deep groan. Yoongi lapped at him with his tongue, taking him as deep as could into his throat before bobbing back up his length to his head.


“Shit, Yoongi,” Jimin groaned as his fingers scratched at his scalp and left a burning in their wake. “I love this game, it’s my favourite guh-game.”


“Angel,” Yoongi gasped as he released his cock for a moment, hand still pumping around his base. “You want me, don’t you?”


Jimin made a noise in agreement, head thrown back against the sofa.


“Tell me how much you want me.”


“I want you so muh-much I-” Jimin grunted and tried to push down on his head to make him take him in his mouth again. So Yoongi kissed his head and sucked it back against his cheek to satisfy him and get an answer. “I’d do more than buh-burn God’s kingdom for you; I’d-I’d set God on fucking fire.”


Yoongi moaned at this and then went slack-jawed around his cock, letting Jimin carry on sloppily bucking his hips up off the sofa to slip right up into his throat. He ground his hips down against the sofa as he did, fingers digging into the cushions deeply as those delicious throbs of heat radiated through his body.


“Yoongi, oh fuh- Yoongi,” Jimin whined as his fingers tugged on his hair hard enough to hurt.


Yoongi felt the first spurt of semen hitting the back of his throat, swallowing on instinct as a softer dribble spilled onto his tongue. He couldn’t help but let out a choked cry of ecstasy as another hot string of semen shot into his mouth, some spilling free from the corner of his lips to dribble down Jimin’s cock messily.


It was like drinking God’s very blood up in The Kingdom, hot and bitter and filled with raw power. When it hit his tongue and started running down his throat he felt a surge of pleasure zinging through his body, bare toes curling up against the marble flooring as a rush of heat spread deeply inside his entire core.


As Yoongi carried on massaging him through orgasm Jimin sank back against the sofa limply with a series of breathless sounds, body trembling. Then he released him and quickly lapped up the leaked semen from the length of his cock, sticking his tongue out to lick his chin clean because he couldn’t let a single drop go to waste. To waste such a sweet elixir was more than sinful and he could do no such thing, wiping at his chin and lapping at his fingers almost greedily.


As soon as he was certain that he had caught every last drop he moved to bury his face against Jimin’s neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the faintest hints of sweat, mouthing open kisses on his slick skin that made him almost purr in contentment.


“Jimin,” Yoongi breathed out against his bare neck, fingers snaking up to his hair to stroke and play with it. “My angel, my beloved, I hope you enjoyed that game as much as enjoyed tasting you.”


“Yoongi, you’ve got a honeyed tongue too,” the mortal mumbled in a rather heavy voice as he turned his face towards him. Yoongi felt his warm breath against his ear, ruffling his hair. “Calling me your beloved, mmm, isn’t that a little bold?”


“D’you think it’s bold?”


“I think I’ve heard many men declaring their love for me, I’ve seen many fights too, but they never mean it,” Jimin explained before turning to press a chaste kiss against the curve of his jaw. “They just love the idea of me, the idea of having me on their arm like a…a trophy. They don’t understand what that word fucking means.”


“I don’t want you as a trophy,” Yoongi explained as he turned his own head to hover his lips over his. “I want to give you the crown that you deserve, Jimin. I want to give you the entire world if you’ll just take me and make me yours. Make me your prince and I’ll-”






The sound of the doors swinging open from across the cabinet room caught Jimin by surprise, made him jump in shock and then twist to look at them. Yoongi had been in the middle of saying something but it seemed that the sudden interruption had surprised him too for he stopped talking instantly, plunging the room into silence for a moment before Namjoon stepped inside. His friend did so without a hint of reservation, for he must have thought that he was alone and not with someone. Jimin could see that he had his burgundy topcoat folded over one arm and it looked like he was getting ready to leave the manor, as ridiculous as that seemed.


“I thought you’d fallen asleep in here,” Namjoon said before giving him a quick smile that dimpled his cheeks. “You’ve been gone all night and- oh, you’re not in the middle of something, are you?”


Jimin saw that Namjoon’s gaze dropped down to his crotch and so he looked down at his open trousers to see that he was very much exposed to his friend, now deflated cock limply hanging free from the item of clothing.


“I, uh, no we-” Jimin turned to look at the other man and yet he saw that he was no longer hanging over him like he had been just seconds ago. “Yoon…Yoongi?” he breathed out rather dumbly as he shifted to sit upright.


Jimin scanned the sight of the empty salmon sofa in front of him, seeing the plate of food still on the cushion and the absinthe tray and hookah pipe still set up on the table. Then he twisted to look back over his shoulder and saw a rather peculiar sight.


Yoongi wasn’t in the cabinet room with him.


Jimin furrowed his brow severely at this, far too surprised by this sudden unravelling of events to actually process what was happening. Yoongi had been in the cabinet room with him just a few seconds ago, breathing and whispering sweet nothings down his neck before Namjoon had interrupted their strange attempt at pillow talk. He should still be standing behind him, perhaps awkwardly avoiding conversation and eye-contact with his best friend because they had been caught in the comedown from heated play, but he wasn’t there. So where the fuck was the other man?


“Jimin?” Namjoon said in a quiet voice as he watched him fumbling with the front of his trousers. There seemed to be a note of concern in his tone and Jimin hated hearing it because it made him seem a little bit crazy. “Are you alright?”


“Yes, um, yes I’m fine,” he stated as he fastened his trousers shut and shifted to get to his feet, still turning his head every which way to try and locate the other man. “Did you see him just then? The, um, the companion I was with? Did he leave or something? I can’t…I don’t know where he went so I’m a little bit confused, uh…” Jimin let out an embarrassed laugh and he felt his shirt sagging from his frame terribly, the seam of one of the shoulders having been ripped during their play. “Yoongi, the man I was with?”


“I…well, I saw him earlier, yeah,” Namjoon explained in a slow voice. “But I didn’t see him just then, I’ve got no clue where he went but I assume he’s long gone like the rest of the guests so-”


“He was right here,” Jimin argued as he tried to fix his shirt, struggling to keep the ruined material in place. “Listen to me, Namjoon, he was right here. He was in this room with me, puh…playing a game with me just a moment ago. We were even talking but you walked in and then he-he went somewhere.”


“Jimin, you’ve had quite a lot of absinthe,” Namjoon remarked as he reached up to start massaging at his temples with a deep groan.


Where was Yoongi? Where had he vanished to?


“Maybe you fell asleep afterwards and he left, so you’re a little disoriented right now?” his friend suggested.


“See this? Did I do this to myself?” he asked as twisted his head and gestured at the red blemish on his trapezoid: a ring of teeth pressed into his skin. He could see Namjoon eyeing it from the of the edge of his periphery and then he turned his head to look back at him. “Yoongi was in this room with me, he was; he’s real, brother, I’m not dreaming him up.”


“No, I know he’s real, I saw him with you,” his friend explained in a genuine tone, filling him with relief. “A stranger I’d never seen before dressed in, uh, a cream dinner jacket and I think he had black trousers? I only caught a quick glimpse of him but I saw him with you before you left the hall to come here. He was drinking with you when I asked you about taking part in the séance but it seems that he might have left a little while ago, Jimin.”


“But…but I swear that he was with me before you opened that door, Namjoon, I swear that he was,” Jimin muttered before sighing heavily and closing his eyes, feeling the room almost spinning around him. At least closing his eyes helped alleviate the sensation, though his body still felt weak and his knees weren’t very steady. “We were talking about…about princes or something, I’m a little confused right now so-”


“So what you need to do is clean yourself up and get some rest,” Namjoon finished for him as he crossed the room to stand beside him. Jimin felt him taking a hold of his upper arm, grip firm but not demanding. “It’s 6am, Jimin, you should get some sleep because you clearly need it. Yeah?”


Rather than reply Jimin just stared at the floor, head still feeling like it was floating inches above his body right now. Only after his friend had pointed out the fact that he had downed so much alcohol was he suddenly aware of the fact that he actually was drunk, the waves of sedation now strongly coming from the absinthe and leaving him feeling a little heavier than he had moments ago. Yes, he had downed many glasses of the strong spirit but he wasn’t imagining the fact that Yoongi had been in the room with him just a minute ago, for he could still feel and sense things that told him otherwise. His skin was coated in a sheen of sweat and though he was no longer feeling the faintest throbs of pleasure in the pit of his stomach he could still feel himself floating in post-orgasmic bliss that the absinthe was just maximising. He could still practically feel the warmth of his breath against his throat and that wasn’t something that had happened hours ago, just a mere minute ago.




“Wait,” he mumbled as he shrugged his friend’s arm free and he moved to grab the silken strip of material off the sofa.


As he grabbed it he saw that there was also a pair of shoes just beside the item of furniture, Yoongi’s monkstrap shoes. It seemed that he had ran off into the night like Cinderella minus her glass slippers. Jimin stared at them for a few seconds before letting Namjoon take hold of his arm and guide him out of the cabinet room, thankful for the support because he wasn’t entirely sure that he would be able to manage the stairs on his own.


“Namjoon, do you think I’m beautiful?” Jimin asked out of the blue as he was steered across the foyer and in the direction of the double set of staircases that would take them onto the first-floor.


“I think you’re a lot more beautiful when you haven’t got a face covered in smeared makeup and you’re smiling rather than frowning,” Namjoon retorted as he helped him up the stairs. “Why do you ask?”


“He, Yoongi, he kept telling me I was beautiful,” he explained in a quiet voice. “He kept calling me an angel but it seemed…different. Not like usual. What, um, what does that mean?”


“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question, Jimin,” his friend stated as he sagged against him rather weakly, making him throw an arm around his ribs to keep him upright until they got up onto the next floor.


“Why’d it feel different?” Jimin clarified as he rubbed at his eyes roughly and smeared even more makeup on his knuckles and cheeks. “It didn’t feel like a lie, but like the truth. It didn’t feel like praise more…worship? Hmm, I don’t what I’m saying, Namjoon, just ignore me. I’m fucking wasted.”


“Whatever you say,” Namjoon remarked with a slight hint of a smile. “Maybe you should avoid drinking this much tomorrow, hmm?”


Hopefully when the clock once again struck midnight and the moon came out to play tomorrow, Jimin would find Yoongi waiting for him: in the maze, on the balcony, in front of the orchestral pit or even in his cabinet room. After all, they had only played a single game for the entire evening and there were so many others that they could play with each other; games much more darker and sweeter than that one had been. He couldn’t stand the idea of having just a single night of teasing with the other man and nothing more than that. He needed more than that, needed something much more potent.


Jimin needed to have Yoongi in every way that he could, needed to feel that electric touch of his and have him whisper even more words of worship down his ear with that honeyed tongue of his.






The blood moon was starting to fade from the sky now that dawn was fast approaching, sinking into mellow hues of pink and violet as the night turned to morning right over his head. Yoongi could see it peeking over the top of the hedge at him like a single eye as he walked through the maze, cheeky and rather childish. The ground was cold and damp against the bare soles of his feet, and soil got trapped in the slight creases of his flesh as he wandered along the paths to get back to the centre. Now that he had passed through it once he knew that he wouldn’t need to worry about getting lost inside of it ever again. He could feel the almost magnetic pull coming from the willow tree that would guide him back to the veil, and when he stepped through back onto this realm again his nose would lead him right back to Jimin.


Now that he had his taste on his tongue he would never lose his scent ever again, would use it like a bloodhound to track him down.


Yoongi let his breath out in the most softest of sighs, almost musical in its tone, and his hand reached out to stroke along the shrubbery wall. The little leaves were dewy and waxy to the touch and he ran his fingers over them teasingly as he walked. Had his body not been heavy with exertion from stepping onto the earthen realm for the first time in centuries, he might just have skipped along the path but he was unable to do so currently. But that didn’t stop him from turning the corner with a flourish, spinning around dizzily before he carried on onto the next path.


He had found him, he had found The Unholy One after waiting and aching for so long.


It was enough to make a rather overpowering froth of giggles start building up in his chest until he opened his mouth and let them escape. He increased his walking speed to a near jog to try and cut through the maze quicker before sunrise, needing to get back to his pet and generals to inform them of this newfound knowledge.


“Oh, Gehenna,” Yoongi rumbled in a low voice, almost purring rather than singing. “I come bearing great news, the greatest news in fact, ha~” He gave another spin and almost tripped over his own feet in his rather sudden excitement. “I found him!” he shouted triumphantly as he threw his arms up at the sky. “I found him, father! I hope you’re watching this from your throne and pissing yourself!”


There was no reply of course but Yoongi knew that he had heard it.


After a few more minutes of annoying twists and turns he was stepping through the maze and right into the open centre. The circular reprieve was covered in a wash of gentle sunlight, the statue in the fountain bathing in the sun and the water sparkling back at his eyes. Yoongi dragged his eyes away to stare at the sight of the grand willow, seeing its shaggy canopy of verdant leaves and the faintest hints of its trunk through the spaces between the lowest bowers. It looked just as magnificent in the day as it had in the night, emitting strong power just like Jimin did: unknowing and yet impossible to ignore. So he crossed the open area to get closer to it, shoving the branches aside to get inside the tree’s sanctuary. After forcing his way through he found his feet stepping down onto springy grass, damp with dew and smearing water and soil on his flesh, quickly moving over to the veil.


Yoongi passed through it, feeling the membrane once again clinging to his skin and trying to suck all of the earthly heat from his body. But it wasn’t able to do so for he was baking with heat and light from Jimin’s touch, could feel it still inside his belly like nectar and flooding his system with gentle waves of warmth and elation. He lifted his arms up and pulled at the wispy remains of the membrane, waving it away to be free from its clingy touch as he stepped across the wide cavernous area in front of him. He had only managed a bare few steps when he felt a tremor running through the brimstone under his feet, a sign that The Dragon was stirring at his return, hungry and keen.


(Did you find The Unholy One, my prince? I can…smell something, something highly pleasing.)


“Oh, I found him, pet,” Yoongi explained before smirking to himself, dropping his hands back to his side as he studied the stone floor. “I found our king, I played with him all night long.”


(You should not play with him, my prince. We need his power now to conquer The Kingdom.)


“He wants me, he promised to set God on fire for me,” Yoongi argued as he ran his tongue around his mouth. He could still taste the faintest remains of his semen on his tongue and he sucked his cheek in to lick at it before licking along his gum line. “I wanted to be certain that he was my beloved and not just another worm whore trying to deceive me with its hot body and sweet flesh. Pet, he’s so much more than those disgusting creatures. He’s the one, I can still feel his touch on my flesh like God Himself pressed His palm on my brow.”


(I cannot wait for his touch too, for him to ride me into war. I am ready, I know I am strong enough to destroy The Kingdom with him on my back.)


Yoongi could hear it almost rumbling in a mixture of anticipation and excitement, hungering for a master as much as he was. The Dragon had never been this excited before, which was a sign of just how everything was starting to fall into place perfectly; a ripple effect that would do so much more than disturb the waters of the sea. It was going to cause a tsunami.


“Oh, sweet, you won’t be waiting long for him, I promise,” he said as he hunkered down to pat at the brimstone lovingly, feeling the heat of the magma beneath it that it was slumbering in. “I’ll prepare him for you, I’ll bring him down here and sit him on the throne, I swear that I will.”


Yoongi got back upright and then he crossed the wide area to slip through the crevasse in the wall and snake his way through the pits of Gehenna. He didn’t want to go down into The Abyss where the tormented souls were screaming and begging for mercy in the cavernous pits of flames, ice, blood and thorns, nor did he want to locate his generals in the feasting hall - though his nose could detect the pleasing scents of seared flesh coming from it. No, Yoongi wanted to go to his own oratory first for he had something to see to, something that couldn’t wait right now. His insides were squirming with heat, wonderful throbs coursing through him, and he had to try and rid himself of the sensation because he couldn’t think straight.


The oratory contained more than just an altar, for that was hewn out of the agate wall threaded blood red and gold to the left of the wide area. It reached the very ceiling, sepulchres hidden away inside it it and a golden triptych above the niches to be worshipped; the long altar piece on which blood sacrifices were given and offerings would be burnt in front of it. To the right there was a deep-set bath in the floor in which bubbling water hissed and spat, and a massive bed covered in crimson and white silk sheets with drapes and a canopy of black lace hanging from the ceiling to the floor. But the main feature of the room wasn’t the altar or his private shelter, but rather the grand feature that was right in front of him when he stepped inside.


There were two thrones facing the entrance of the oratory, set up on a onyx podium with thirteen deep steps to go up to stand on it, both of them carved from chunks of obsidian and gilded with gold and jewels so that the pillars of flames reflected off their sparkling cuts and edges. For as long as he had been down in Gehenna Yoongi had sat in the smaller of the two thrones, the one with hints of green running through the obsidian, rather than the larger one with threaded flecks of gold in the glossy black surface. He wasn’t worthy of the true throne if he was unable to bring The Kingdom to its knees, so that was why he had needed to find someone that could fill the seat better than him. And that someone was Jimin.


Yoongi stopped at the bottom of the steps to eye the two thrones, trying to visualise what The Unholy One would look like seated on it. The thought was enough to make him want to drop to his knees and crawl across his oratory to get to the altar, to spill fresh blood on the agate and offer flesh in his honour, but he managed to suppress the urge as he stuck his tongue out to wet his lips. Jimin would look like the true king, that much he was certain of, and soon enough he would get to see him lounging on it like he had lounged on that sofa of his.


Yoongi moved across the oratory to get to his bed, stripping off his dinner jacket and tossing it onto the floor, quickly stepping out of his trousers. He was in the act of unbuttoning his shirt when his eyes caught sight of the obsidian mirror placed just a few feet away beside the hollow in the agate where he could conjure up whatever he wished, be it clothing, a book, a chunk of flesh to drop onto the altar. Yoongi found his fingers faltering on the final button as he stared at the polished black stone. He could see his reflection clearly on the surface but that wasn’t why he was staring at it. Before he could stop himself Yoongi moved to stand in front of the mirror, popping the final button open and then lifting his hands to place them onto the smooth and chill surface.


Ostendo mei,” he said in a low voice as he moved to press his brow against the mirror.


Yoongi felt it almost rippling against his flesh, the surface becoming liquid as he projected his will on it. He stroked his hands over the rippling stone and as he stared at his reflection intently he started to see something within the black sea of obsidian; a ghostly apparition trapped within the chasm in front of him. He narrowed his eyes to try and discern the image that he had conjured in the mirror, figuring out that he was actually looking at a bed not too different from the one beside him.


The bed was massive, the sheets white and the heavy covers gold, cream and blue brocade. There were double stacks of thick pillows placed against the golden frame and satin headboard of the bed, along with dozens of circular throw pillows so that there seemed to be very little room inside the bed. Yoongi could also see that there was a diaphanous curtain of cream lace hanging around the bed, lightly dancing in a breeze as he stared down at the bed.


This was Jimin’s bed.


Yoongi studied it for a moment before he detected movement, saw the canopy being pulled aside as Jimin appeared in the mirror, wearing nothing save for his ruined shirt from earlier. The mortal looked to have just bathed, judging from his flushed skin and damp hair, and he wondered what he would smell like - taste like. Milk and honey, most likely. Or spices exotic and royal. Jimin shifted to climb onto the massive bed, his movements looking a little sluggish and drunk as he tried to stay on his knees and not topple onto the mattress. Even though he couldn’t hear through the mirror he could see his expression shifting as he no doubt giggled at his own wobbling limbs and spinning head.


Yoongi could see that there was something in his hand and after a quick study he saw that it was his choker, that strip of black silk. The sight of it made him sigh heavily and he watched Jimin moving to knot it around the gilded metal post of his headboard in a loose bow. As soon as it was in place the mortal shifted to sit back on his bare feet and observe it, in prayer position. Then Jimin moved to slip his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside with a single care.


“Oh, Jimin…” Yoongi breathed out as he stared at his exposed back, at his naked flesh wantonly. He found himself dropping to his knees in supplication.


He was Adonis, he was unlike anything he had ever seen. Jimin’s body and frame were only slight but he was toned in the most perfect of ways, enough to have muscle but still so very slim and soft. Yoongi ran his eyes down the wings of his shoulder blades to follow the strong valley of his spine down to his buttocks, seeing the full curve of his behind and the hard dimples in his flesh as he flexed and moved. His thighs were muscular and lean, his arms shapely from the curve of his biceps, and Yoongi hadn’t even seen his front properly yet, just hints of his chest and stomach.


He was quite simply Adonis, golden and supple, his skin lustrous from the dawn sunlight and moist from lotion.


Jimin shifted to sit down on the bed, bouncing ever so slightly on the springs and needless stack of throw pillows so that a lock of his damp honey hair fell forward. So he lifted a hand to brush it back off his face, balancing his weight back on his other wrist as he did. Jimin had his legs cocked up in front of him, currently hiding his manhood from his gaze but revealing his bare thighs and his upper body to him. The sight of his dimpled stomach had Yoongi scratching at the surface of the mirror and when Jimin moved to lie back on the bed he let out a soft noise of awe.


Jimin was living art, lying on the golden brocade with his arms outstretched like the ant saviour on the cross, just demanding to be worshipped. He stretched his legs out over the sheets, face scrunching up slightly as he tried to get comfortable, and then he moved to drop a hand on his stomach as he rolled his head to the side and stared off across his bedchambers.


Yoongi pulled one hand away from the mirror to place it on his own stomach, his own aching and burning belly that was still filled with his heat and light. His fingers skated over the soft curve of his stomach until he found them wrapping around his cock, which was stiff and begging for release from Jimin’s touch.


“All of those disgusting worms that touched you, that defiled you,” Yoongi muttered to the mirror as he started stroking himself slowly, grip tight but uncertain. “I’ll drink their blood and eat their meat. I’ll wear their flesh and chew on their bones and- ah.”


Yoongi let go of the mirror to grab the head of his cock in his other hand, stimulating it with his fingers and palm as he carried on pumping his fist around his length more steadily just like he had observed Jimin doing earlier. The friction was maddening, made his thighs tremble as he breathed out a low moan.


“How dare those worms touch a god, my guh-god, my king?” he grunted as he squeezed his fist around his head and felt a hard throb of pleasure shoot up into his belly. “I’ll tear out their guts and play with them and-and-”


Yoongi could hear his voice echoing through the oratory, bouncing off the tall walls of agate, and when he moaned the sound swelled to incredibly loud proportions. Just hearing the pathetic want in his vocal utterances filled him with excitement because it was just like Jimin had sounded in his hold. It encouraged him to be that much louder, that much more vocal even when there was no need to be so. If he was loud enough God might just hear him even down in the pits of Gehenna.


“I’ll worship you on my knees,” he moaned as he rubbed his brow against the obsidian. “Let me taste your body and your blood and I’ll- uh! I’ll swallow you whole, Jimin, I’ll savour you on my tongue.”


Yoongi stuck his tongue out to lick at the mirror at this, from base to tip in one slow and teasing stripe. But it wasn’t the same, it didn’t feel like it had earlier when he had licked his hot flesh, when he had flicked his tongue along the head of his cock. Yoongi didn’t want the cold stone against his tongue; he wanted heat, flesh, semen. Yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from licking the mirror as he stroked himself hard and fast, drooling down the obsidian and fogging the surface up with his breath as he stared at Jimin. The mortal was just lying in bed, eyes half-lidded and body limp as he drifted in his thoughts before slumber but not in his mind.


No, in his mind Jimin was writhing against him, under him, above him. Jimin was roughly sinking his nails and teeth into his flesh, was tenderly kneading and sucking his skin; he was shouting and grunting, was moaning and sighing; he was bucking like a stallion and rutting like a bitch, and Yoongi could barely stand it. He was on fire and nothing but Jimin’s touch would cool his flesh.


Yoongi felt the cold press of obsidian against the head of his cock but it didn’t feel right. Jimin wouldn’t be cold, he would be hot, scorching hot. His insides would be filled with that raw heat and light, and if he was to penetrate him instead it would be like God had entered his body once more. But when he dragged it against the smooth and cold surface that didn’t really matter. What mattered was that the sensation made him leak against the mirror, a dribble of semen painting the glass so that his head glided in the sticky mixture and caused shivers to run down his very spine.


“Juh-Jimin,” he moaned weakly as he closed his eyes, the coldness of the mirror against his brow and his cock twitching in his fist. His climax was nearing him, he was sure of it even when he had never felt such a thing before. “I’ll give you His crown, I’ll guh-give you His throne, fuck, I’ll give you His fucking kingdom, juh-just- take me!


Yoongi felt his orgasm crashing down on him, a hard wave of pleasure that caught him by surprise. His hips snapped forward and against the mirror as he ejaculated, weakly bucking even when there was nothing to thrust into. He couldn’t help but bring his fist up to slam against the hard surface in a mixture of confusion and sheer pleasure. His breath escaped his lungs in a shout before he threw his head back with a breathless keen of bliss. As he milked himself against the obsidian with several final pumps of his fist his shirt tore free from his body, morphing into his wings. Yoongi spread them around himself almost like a shroud, hiding himself inside the darkness they created as he slumped against the mirror in a shuddering mess.


This is what fornication felt like, this was that carnal knowledge that his generals possessed, that base animalistic sin that the worms committed every second. This is what his marriage to Jimin would feel like when the time arrived and they could bond through flesh and blood: twitching and tingling, a rush of power and heat that made his head feel like a fire had sparked behind his eyelids.


Yoongi stared at Jimin from under his half-lidded eyes, seeing that the mortal was now deeply asleep. He ran his hand up the glass to stroke his forefinger over his face lovingly, feeling another wonderfully warm throb running through his body as he did. His wings ruffled hard, finally free after so long and longing to stretch to their full span.


Oh, to have Jimin stroke his feathers and kiss them with that sweet mouth of his. That would bring tears of joy to his eyes, Yoongi knew that it would.


“We’ll set Him on fire together, my beloved,” Yoongi sighed as pressed his lips against the mirror in a chaste and loving kiss.