Chapter Text
Chapter 4
Jungkook peeked out from under the white button-down shirt covering his head, his doe-eyes blinking at Seokjin.
For the way back, Namjoon had literally given them the shirt off his back, covering Jungkook’s exposed face and neck, to shield him from the whispers of light from incoming dawn. Jungkook, clearly enjoying the scent of warm smoke, had cuddled into the fabric.
But Seokjin had been left dry-mouthed, staring at Namjoon’s tan, muscled chest and arms, as the vampire cuddled the fledgling close. Jungkook’s head rested against Namjoon’s firm pec
Seokjin was almost jealous.
As they walked back into the apartment, Seokjin looked around, finally realizing the place was nice. Really nice. It was also brighter than he remembered.
“The electrician came by,” the vampire woman- Jamilia, Namjoon had called her- said, leaning into the hallway from a bedroom.
Seokjin, having now decided that his survival depended on Namjoon f*cking him, snarled. “He’s mine.”
The woman blinked. “Okay? Have him?”
“Don’t be jealous, love,” Namjoon said, walking towards her with Jungkook still in his arms. It set Seokjin on edge. “Even the best Moms need a nanny from time to time. She’ll feed him until you’ve recovered.”
Seokjin watched his little, white-shirt covered fledgling be transferred into that whor*’s arms.
“He’s my responsibility. I can feed him,” Seokjin said, stepping forward, planning to snatch his fledgling back-
Namjoon slid between them, blocking her from Seokjin’s view. Instead, Seokjin’s field of vision was filled by bare tan skin and his nose was overwhelmed with possessive smoke. Namjoon stepped forward, and Seokjin could swear that he saw his pecs bounce.
Seokjin swallowed.
“I can smell the malnutrition in your scent, love,” Namjoon murmured, stepping even closer.
Yeah, they had bounced.
“Rest with me,” Namjoon implored, “Let me take care of you.” The vampire cupped Seokjin’s cheek, careful and gentle.
But Seokjin’s gaze was now trapped on Namjoon’s strong shoulders and the thick muscle that capped them. Unable to help himself, he reached out a hand, tentatively touching the angle of Namjoon’s shoulder.
As if compelled, his hand slid down Namjoon’s arm, squeezing his bicep. His large bicep.
Namjoon flexed. Seokjin felt the muscle contract under his hand. Seokjin also felt a little faint.
“Do you want to be carried, too?” Namjoon said, enjoyment of the situation clear in his voice. “Or should we play-fight, again?”
Seokjin swallowed, words escaping as his eyes traced over Namjoon’s traps. His lats. His, oh god, his abs.
I suppose this is a good opportunity to cement myself in his good graces, Seokjin thought, deciding to play alone simply because it suited his plans. Not because Seokjin was curious how good an Ancient would be in bed. Certainly not.
“Should I chase you, little love? I’ll give you a head start,” Namjoon grinned, looming over Seokjin.
Seokjin turned around and bolted.
Namjoon’s laugh followed him down the hall.
—
Admittedly- Seokjin had never been kissed before. Post-turn. By a vampire, at least.
Before they had left, before Jungkook had been turned, they had exchanged a few kisses, yes.
But they had been nothing like this.
Namjoon’s kisses had a taste, but not one similar to anything Seokjin could recall.
But it made him smile, giggling as he stared up at the ceiling. Seokjin was on the master bed, licking his lips, mind swirling with a sparkling, happy feeling after multiple deep kisses from Namjoon.
“Love,” Namjoon chided, hands on Seokjin’s inner thighs, pushing them open. “Sire told you to keep these pretty legs open.” Seokjin strained, fighting Namjoon’s insistent pressure, but his legs parted all the same. He was no match against Namjoon’s strength.
Seokjin was panting, eyes fluttering closed, “I’m done. I’m done, i’m done, please, seriously. Enough.”
“Love,” Namjoon cooed, climbing up Seokjin’s body to press their lips together. Liquid joy dripped from Namjoon’s mouth, and it made Seokjin’s head swirl. “I haven’t even f*cked you, yet. Don’t you want me, little love?”
Namjoon was holding himself up on his elbows, so his strong arms were bracketing Seokjin’s head. Seokjin stared at the flexed bicep, feeling the strongest urge to just lean over and bite-
“Ah, ah,” Namjoon re-captured Seokjin’s lips with his own, kissing him deeply, possessively, not letting up for the air that neither of them needed. It was only until Seokjin began rolling his hips again, silently demanding more.
Namjoon pulled back, affection in his eyes. “No biting yet, love. We aren’t ready yet.”
Seokjin blinked, lips pulling into an automatic smile, everything feeling so absolutely perfect.
“Ready?” Seokjin repeated, feeling a little slow; his thoughts were too bright for him to make any sense of them.
“I’m going to miss this, how cute and sensitive and happy, you are,” Namjoon praised, pressing kisses to Seokjin’s neck. Each kiss felt like a reward. “But adaptation is necessary, isn’t it?”
Seokjin hummed in the affirmative.
Namjoon kissed down his body. “If only I’d found you first, love. You would have blinked your crimson eyes open with my blood coursing through your veins. We wouldn’t have to wait.”
“Then, you’d be my Sire,” Seokjin frowned slightly, confused. Namjoon wanted to f*ck him, not raise him.
Strong hands tightened their grip on his hips, “Say it again.”
“You’d be my Sire?” Seokjin repeated, still confused.
A low rumble slipped past Namjoon’s lips, a pleased sound, nearly a purr, as he pressed kisses down Seokjin’s shuddering abdomen.
“But I still need a Dam?” Seokjin said, lips downturning, imagining another Dam at Namjoon’s side, sharing his bed, as they coddled Seokjin together.
“I’d have found you a Dam. Any half-educated Sire knows better than to hide their mate from me.” Namjoon murmured. “Maybe I’d have formed a little harem, just to ensure that you always had a tit to nurse from.”
“You’re,” Seokjin gasped, as Namjoon’s head resettled between his legs, tongue laving over Seokjin’s rim. “You’re mine. I’m not sharing.”
“My mate gets jealous rather easily.”
Seokjin reached down, fisting blonde hair, “And you get distracted a little too easily.”
A soft laugh, an apologetic “Sorry, love”, and another org*sm had Seokjin forgetting all about their odd conversation.
—
“Welcome back,” Jamilia said, voice bland as cut a gash into her forearm, hoping the brat would feed without a fuss this time.
The fledgling huffed, wiggling on the couch, and Jamilia understood the silent request. They’d built a tentative understanding over the past few feedings they’d shared.
She pulled the fledgling into her lap, sideways as he appeared to like, then she raised her bloody forearm to his lips.
“Want Dam. You taste like oranges,” Jungkook huffed, hiding his face in her neck.
Jamilia stiffened at the intimacy of the position, but swallowed the knee-jerk reaction to push him away. Namjoon asked her to play nanny, so she’d play nanny.
“It’s rude to complain about how a Dam tastes,” Jamilia corrected, “We can’t control it.”
A pause, then a begrudging, “Sorry. Just want Dam.”
Jamilia nodded, relieved that Namjoon’s adopted fledgling wasn’t completely hopeless, at least. “One can understand. However, your Dam is still sick, and likely injured from the Sire fight he got caught in.”
Jungkook shook his head, burying his face deeper into Jamilia’s neck in the process. It tickled, the closeness uncomfortable and foreign. “Miss him.”
Jamilia opens her mouth, then shuts it. It had been many centuries since she’d missed anyone, and even then, those that she missed hadn’t been worth missing. She had been an orphaned soldier when she was turned, and an orphaned vampire when Namjoon had found her.
Even now, she had no one to miss.
Jungkook sniffled into her neck; the wet sensation was uncomfortable, making her skin itch.
There was one time, she supposed, remembering a battle in Scandanvia, where she had been cornered, surrounded by the enemy as she waited for Namjoon. She had deemed the situation hopeless, inescapable, and then, Namjoon had appeared, razing their enemies to the ground.
Pleased to see me? he’d asked. Not at all, she’d responded.
“Sometimes,” Jamilia said slowly, “Sometimes we have to be strong. Strong enough to defend ourselves until our people can reach us.”
“Dam promised he’d never leave me,” Jungkook whined, “Never ever.”
“Then when the fight started,” Jamilia frowned, trying to piece together the situation from the bits of information Namjoon and Jungkook had provided. “What happened to you?”
“Dam told me to run inside and get tickets,” Jungkook mumbled, voice muffled against Jamilia’s skin, “But was so sad, that they took me to the baby room.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, “The baby room?”
“Where lost babies go.”
“Security thought you were a lost child?” Jamilia pulled back, inspecting the fledgling’s face. He did have a youthful face, yes, but he had the build of a mid-twenties adult. Though, with those teary eyes and childish speech, she could see a stressed human making such a mistake.
“Uh huh,” Jungkook nodded, lower lip protruding, “I’m a baby.”
The words left Jamilia unsettled.
“Feed for now,” Jamilia said, practically shoving her bleeding forearm into the fledgling’s mouth.
As Jungkook, nearly choked on the blood rushing into his mouth, Jamilia glanced over the fledgling’s figure once more. Perhaps they’d work on basic self-defense while Namjoon and the Dam were… occupied.
Though the couple’s moans were audible to Jamilia’s sensitive ears, at least the little one’s hearing abilities were as dull as a human’s.
She sighed, settling back into the couch as the fledgling suckled on her wound.
—
An undetermined amount of time later, Namjoon pulled away, concern alit in his eyes.
“You’re right. I do get distracted too easily. You need to feed. Any requests, love?”
Seokjin blinked, the room nearly spinning from his last org*sm, as he watched Namjoon pull on clothes. The same concrete dusted clothes from earlier. Seokjin half-wondered if Namjoon even had other clothes.
And then the distrustful bear in Seokjin’s chest, began to growl, waking up from its brief hibernation.
“I want fresh,” Seokjin said, propping himself up on an elbow.
Namjoon turned around, a besotted grin on his face, as he buttoned up his shirt, “Yes, my love. I’ll hunt them myself.”
“No,” Seokjin shook his head, hair fanning over his forehead, “Fresh. I want to kill them.”
Namjoon crossed his arms, wry smile on his lips, “My love. You don’t have to prove your hunting prowess to me.”
As if, Seokjin rolled his eyes.
It was hard to detect the scent of poison in dead blood, but drugged humans had a sloppy way about them. Asking to see the human alive would allow Seokjin a better guess at Namjoon’s intentions.
Seokjin pouted, “They start tasting rotten so fast. I don’t like it.”
Namjoon raised a single eyebrow, “I’d be fast, my love.”
“Rotten,” Seokjin repeated, huffing his words and collapsing into bed, hiding his face in the sheets, pretending to throw a tantrum. He braced himself for the Ancient’s anger, back tensing to protect himself from the brunt of the hit.
Namjoon sighed. The sound of approaching footsteps. Then, there was a soft hand ruffling through Seokjin’s hair, gentle.
“My mate has such a sensitive palette, and I will take great pride in indulging it,” Namjoon murmured, “I will return soon, my love, with your meal kicking and screaming in my arms.”
There was a kiss laid to the back of Seokjin’s bare shoulder, feather-light against his stiff muscles.
And then Namjoon left.
And Seokjin collapsed into the sheets, an odd, warm feeling fluttering in his chest.
Surely, it was just relief that his plan had worked. Surely.
—
A while later, Seokjin felt his faculties return to him. Namjoon had yet to return, so he did what any dignified five-hundred year old would do: seek out his rival.
Wrapping a sheet around himself, Seokjin left the master bedroom and followed the scent of milk and citrus down the hall to the guest bedroom.
Jungkook was tucked into bed, sleeping with blood stains on his on cheeks. Seokjin frowned, a drop of insecurity in his chest. He’d never had enough blood in him to allow Jungkook to eat so messily.
Jamilia, it seemed, did.
She was seated on a couch on the side of the room opposite the door. There was a blood bag in her hand, several empty at her feet, and a laptop balanced in her lap. A dim lamp, glowing a gentle orange, was the main source of light in the otherwise dark room.
Jungkook doesn’t like the dark; Seokjin thought, looking at the lamp, he must have told her.
She looked up from the glowing screen. “Good Night, Kim Seokjin.”
Seokjin froze. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
“I heard Namjoon moan it, multiple times,” she said, “Vampire hearing is rather sharp.”
“I know,” Seokjin said, defensively.
“Not all that much, it seems,” she said, looking at him as if she was looking through him. Her eyes were keen, an intelligent distrust flickering in her gaze.
Seokjin looked away, glancing at Jungkook again. He inhaled, and a milky citrus scent wafted his way.
“He smells like you,” Seokjin frowned, even if he knew it was temporary.
“Temporary. It’ll change back when you start feeding him. Only Sire scents are truly permanent.”
“I know,” Seokjin repeated, turning back to look at her. “Who are you, anyway? To Namjoon.”
She shrugged, moving the laptop from her lap to the table. “I’m helpful. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Seokjin scowled, disgusted, “So you feed him.”
Jamilia blinked, slow and confused, as if Seokjin’s words were absurd. “He’s an ancient, not a fledgling. Why would I feed him?”
So she’s a coward and a fool. “So he’s never asked for your blood?” Seokjin asked, voice dry and disbelieving.
“For the occasional thrall or as a vial for someone he’s pleased with, sure.”
“A vial for someone he’s pleased with,” Seokjin repeated, mockingly, “Are you stupid?”
Jamilia frowned, eyes narrowing, looking at Seokjin, as if he was an escaped mental asylum patient, “Are you?”
Seokjin crossed his arms, tempted to hit her with another retort, but then his eyes fell on Jungkook, slumbering safety, cheeks puffy and well-fed, and he felt the acidity within him soften, slightly. “Thank you,” he said, begrudgingly, “For feeding him… I know it’s taxing.”
“Namjoon didn’t leave me with much of a choice,” she said, warily tracking Seokjin’s movements.
“So you are bound here,” Seokjin surmised. No Sire would chance their Dam’s escape. She must be compulsed out of her mind. “As he wishes to bind me.”
“Bind you?” Jamilia repeated.
“My kidnapper chased me down and brought me back.” Seokjin crossed his arms, starting to get sick of this cyclical conversation. This woman was infuriating. “What would you call that?”
“Preventing your death, probably. You look like sh*t,” she scoffed, taking a final sip from the blood bag in her hand, and throwing it to the floor. She stood up, brushing past Seokjin in the doorway, “I’m here because Namjoon is useful, a conclusion I’m sure you’ve also come to, considering your sudden urgency for dick.”
—
Namjoon walked into the penthouse, carrying a human male, one hand covering their mouth, the other a steel vice around their ribs.
Who needed blood this fresh? Jamilia rolled her eyes. This wasn’t indicative of having a fussy palette; this was indicative of distrust.
“Namjoon- we need to talk.”
He shook his head, toeing off his shoes, “My mate needs to eat.”
“Your mate is hiding something.”
Namjoon exhaled a breath through his nose, unimpressed, “We are not entitled to every detail of his history, Jamilia.”
“I’m serious- He’s an experienced fighter; he tried to kill you. I’m certain killed that Sire at the airport-”
“The Sires killed each other. I told you.”
“They were all Order soldiers. Why would they fight amongst themselves? They’re from the same coven-”
“My mate is sick,” Namjoon shook his head, placing his flip phone and keys on the counter, “He’s uncomfortable, and this inquisition of yours isn’t helping.”
“He’s a five-hundred year old unmated Dam. Is that not odd to you?”
“That’s hypocritical, you old spinster.”
“Namjoon, you aren’t listening.”
Namjoon continued not to listen, walking out of the living room and into the master bedroom. Jamilia slumped into the couch, as moans traveled down the hall and into her ears.
She groaned, but there was nothing she could do.
I did my job. This is no longer my problem, she told herself, pulling out her phone to order more clothes. After a couple decades of not wearing any, her wardrobe was rather sparse.
—
That dusk, Jungkook burst into the Master Bedroom, clutching a blanket and pillow. His bright yellow eyes wide and pleading. “Want Dam.”
Seokjin and Namjoon broke apart immediately. Seokjin’s eyes traced over Jungkook’s body, looking for injuries. Namjoon immediately covered Seokjin’s bare body with a sheet, as he straightened into a kneel on the bed.
“I told you, baby,” Namjoon cooed, “Dam is sick.”
Seokjin’s nose wrinkled at the sweet tone of Namjoon’s words. It wasn’t fair. Jungkook was his responsibility, but fulfilling a paternal role seemed to come much easier to the Ancient.
It had Seokjin sitting up.
Namjoon may be able to coo and get Jungkook new clothes and a soft bed and a roof over his head, but Seokjin had one thing Namjoon didn’t, one thing that Jungkook would always want.
Clearing his throat, Seokjin propped himself up against the headboard, feeling vaguely self-conscious about the six bodies littered across the floor.
Sick? Seokjin had eaten like a King today.
This much blood would have lasted him a month when he had been there.
Sick? Seokjin brushed it off. He couldn’t be sick, not when he’d gorged himself like this.
Six humans in twelve hours; how could Seokjin ever dare to say that he didn’t have enough to spare for Jungkook?
Extending an arm towards the fledgling, Seokjin offered an awkward smile, “Come here, Jungkook. Are you hungry?”
Jungkook’s eyes brightened, and the vivid yellow reminded him of the arctic sun glittering over the East Siberian sea. Beautiful. A sole respite in the darkness.
“Yes! Missed Dam so much,” Jungkook cheered, rushing forward towards the bed, towards Seokjin’s outstretched hand.
Their fingertips brushed, and then Jungkook was gone, swiped into Namjoon’s arms, hauled away from Seokjin and the bed. Seokjin snarled, teeth bared, a vicious sound escaping his lips.
My fledgling.
Mine.
“Drop him,” Seokjin ordered, vision flickering red, “Drop him, Namjoon.”
Jungkook whined, wriggling in Namjoon’s arms, trying to escape the Sire. “Want Dam. Want Dam.”
“My love, you still aren’t in a state to feed him,” Namjoon crooned, stepping back with Jungkook in his arms, taking Jungkook further away.
Jungkook whimpered, eyes watering, as he helplessly reached for Seokjin; Namjoon’s fingertips pressed into Jungkook’s skin, forming divots.
Seokjin watched in horror as he gripped Jungkook’s throat, deep divots around each of his fingertips, digging into his little human’s neck.
Jungkook’s eyes landed on him, “Run, Jin.”
Seokjin couldn’t run. Not without Jungkook.
“Jin, Jin, Jin-
“Seokjin, my love,” Namjoon repeated, “It pains me to deny you, but it’s for your long-term well-being.”
Seokjin’s gaze narrowed, suddenly, strategy alighting his brain, as he processed the situation. His little bird-boned fledgling restrained in an Ancient’s arms, as Seokjin antagonized that very same Ancient.
Not smart, not smart, not smart-
He’ll hurt him to get you to listen-
Trained survival instinct had his shoulders slumping, smile plastering on his lips as he nodded in forced agreement. “Okay,” Seokjin agreed immediately, something thumping anxiously in his chest at seeing Jungkook suspended in the air against his will, “Okay, but, we can cuddle right? It’s his bedtime.”
Namjoon seemed reassured by Seokjin’s sudden smile, his own smile brightening slightly, “Of course. We can all sleep together as a coven.” Namjoon set Jungkook on the ground, carefully running his hands through Jungkook’s hair, gentle. “Have you had dinner, baby?”
“Uh huh,” Jungkook nodded, the teary gloss of his eyes rapidly dissipating, leaning into Namjoon’s touch, “I’m full.”
“Good boy,” Namjoon murmured, finally releasing any hold on Jungkook.
Seokjin wasted no time in pulling Jungkook into his own arms and into bed, holding their position against the wall, across the room from Namjoon and the door.
“I’ll be right back, little loves,” Namjoon gave them a final look with heart-soft eyes, before exiting the room, “Get ready for bed.”
It was only after Namjoon left the room did Seokjin collapse, burying his face in Jungkook’s neck.
“Dam?” Jungkook questioned.
“Shhh,” Seokjin said, mimicking the soft voice Namjoon used, “Just give me a minute like this.”
He inhaled the scent of safe, young, happy milk under his nose, over and over and over, until the terrified little shadow in Seokjin’s chest finally released it’s strangling hold on his heart.
Everything was fine.
Seokjin had overreacted.
Jungkook was fine.
“I brought your light, baby,” Namjoon said, re-entering the room, holding the small table lamp Seokjin had noticed in the guest bedroom, “Auntie Jamie said you didn’t like the dark.”
“Uh huh, need it.”
Seokjin kept his arms tight around Jungkook’s waist, but he lifted his head, keeping his gaze pinned on Namjoon, on the Sire, on the threat, on the combatant Seokjin couldn’t defeat-
Namjoon plugged the lamp into an outlet and placed it on a bedside table. After flicking it on, he flicked the room’s light’s off. The room went dark, glowing a soft orange from the lamp.
The low visibility had Seokjin’s night vision blinking into focus, watching Namjoon intently.
“Is this okay, baby?”
“Too close,” Jungkook complained, “Want it farther away.”
“Okay, baby.”
Namjoon flicked the bedroom light’s on, walked back to the bedside, unplugged the lamp, moved it to the dresser across the room, re-plugged the lamp in, and flicked off the bedroom lights.
“Now, baby?”
“Too far,” Jungkook whined, “It’s dark now.”
“Could we perhaps get a different lamp suitable for this distance?”
“No. This is my lamp.”
In the dark, Seokjin watched Namjoon’s teeth flash. He’s angry, he’s gotten angry- Namjoon smiled, wide and with teeth, as a little laugh escaped his mouth, “Fussy. Just like your Dam, hm? My fussy little loves. Let me go call the in-house electrician.”
Seokjin blinked, tense shoulders once again easing, as Namjoon flicked the lights back on, and left the room.
I’m overreacting.
Am I? I am. Am I?
Moments later, Jamilia entered with a long cord and an eye-roll. “This is an extension cable,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Namjoon, “It effectively makes the lamp’s wire longer.”
“Ah, fantastic,” Namjoon said, leaning closer, “What an intriguing invention.”
Jamilia gave him a tired look, “It is a staple of a modern household.”
“You said that about your finicky wrap dyson-”
“-Dyson Airwrap-”
“And I’m beginning to think that you don’t understand the difference between a luxury and staple.”
“I assure you: an extension cord is not an excessive luxury.”
“Quite right, no luxury is too excessive for my Coven,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, chest puffing slightly.
And there was just something so stupid about that.
So harmless.
Seokjin’s arms relaxed around Jungkook slightly, and the lights flicked off once more, with Jungkook’s lamp situated exactly how the fledgling wanted it.
Namjoon approached then, teeth glinting, and Seokjin didn’t flinch.
He knew the Sire was smiling.
—
Seokjin slept between Jungkook and Namjoon, unable to fully let Jungkook go, keeping the fledgling tucked against his chest. Jungkook’s nose was pressed against his collarbones.
The fledgling had insisted, “Dam’s scent helps me sleep.”
Seokjin didn’t have the heart to point out that every night since his Siring, they’d been huddling for warmth when they slept, and that was probably what Jungkook had enjoyed about cuddling to sleep.
The room was silent, except for Jungkook’s huffy breaths and the occasional shifting sheets.
Seokjin was wide awake. Namjoon’s cool arm burned into his skin where it was wrapped around his waist. The Ancient’s chest was pressed against Seokjin’s back, and Seokjin’s head rested on the other’s admittedly large bicep.
Both vampires were stoic still, not needing to breath or fidget, both awake. Seokjin was hoping the other would fall asleep first, but he knew it was unlikely. The Ancient needed less sleep than he did.
“I’m sorry, my love,” the Ancient said, voice soft, “I was too aggressive earlier.”
“Aggressive?” Seokjin repeated, unable to parse through their evening and determine what Namjoon was referring to. He hadn’t growled, or snapped his teeth, or hit anyone.
“I shouldn’t have gotten between you two; it wasn’t right. Of course, you both are always allowed to cuddle,” Namjoon’s words are soft. His voice brushed over the peak of Seokjin’s cheekbone.
“He likes to cuddle,” Seokjin said, unsure of what else to say, unable to believe that a Sire was apologizing to him, unable to imagine that a Sire was admitting that he was wrong.
“My actions were instinctual; you’re in such a vulnerable state, I’m worried about jostling you too harshly, let alone the possibility of the baby getting antsy and taking a sip,” Namjoon murmured, arms tightening around Seokjin’s waist, “But I should trust you more, both of you.”
I should trust you more. Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time anyone had trusted him, at all, except Jungkook, but Jungkook had always been the exception.
“He… he can have a sip, though, can’t he?” Seokjin trailed, looking down at the little fledgling in his arms, the sleeping fledgling who had relied on him for so long.
“Dams have delicate veins, they stretch and shrink with your blood pressure, but you were, and are still, extremely dehydrated. And I’m concerned that your blood pressure regulation.”
Seokjin blinked. All of this was news to him. Lies, Seokjin considered, lies to keep Dams docile and obedient.
“So if the fledgling drinks from you and your blood pressure drops, I’m worried that you’ll collapse a vein,” Namjoon’s voice was low, lips pressed against the nape of Seokjin’s neck, “It’s an awful, excruciating feeling, my love, and the recovery is far more extensive. I desperately and earnestly request that you practice patience.”
Seokjin shuddered slightly from the kiss; the affection felt far more intimate than the enthusiastic sex they’d had earlier in the night. “If I can’t feed him, then I can’t feed you either,” Seokjin said, more than asked, wanting clarity on the situation.
Seokjin pressed his lips together, stilling as he awaited Namjoon’s response, waiting for Namjoon to claim ownership of the blood that was meant for his fledgling. However, no such response came.
“I don’t partake in Dam blood, my love. I don’t like cultivating dependencies.”
“What.”
“Outside of another Ancient Sire biting me directly in the neck, I’m pretty impossible to fatally injure and superficial injuries heal on their own, in time. I have no use for Dam blood.”
“Then…,” Seokjin frowned, panic fluttering in his chest, unable to align the words with what he’s known to be reality, “Then, why am I here? Why are we here?”
We need to leave, dangerous, dangerous-
“My love,” Namjoon pulled Seokjin tight to his chest, lips pressing into Seokjin’s neck. “You’re here, because your scent reminds me of reasons to live. You’re here because I cannot imagine a future without you in it.”
“You’re here to be spoiled,” The Ancient’s hand left Seokjin’s waist, trailing lower, “to be pampered.” His hand slipped between Seokjin’s legs, “to know nothing but happiness under my hand.”
Seokjin’s lips parted, staring out into the dark room, gaze fixed on a picture frame. A photo of Seokjin, sleeping, hair fanned out on a pillow. Beside that frame, was an inexplicable frame of bloody keys. Seokjin had been awake barely a day, and there was already a picture of him on the wall.
“Should I remind you what happiness feels like?” Namjoon whispered, pressing another kiss right behind Seokjin’s ear.
The words felt like a deal with the devil.
He’s lying, he’s lying, no Sire is this kind, no Sire thinks such thoughts, the survivor in his brain hissed, but Seokjin, just for now, couldn’t care if it was a lie.
“Yes,” Seokjin admitted, leaning his head back on Namjoon’s shoulder, inhaling the Ancient’s pleased, content, possessive, old, old, old, fire warmth, pine scent. It was intoxicating.
I wonder if all most Sires smell this good, Seokjin wondered, but he had a feeling that it was just Namjoon.
“Good mate,” Namjoon hummed, fingers brushing slick skin, “I’ll make you happy, my love, so very happy.”
—
In the early hours of the morning, Namjoon was woken by an incessant buzzing. He recognized the sound immediately this time, having gotten more comfortable with the technology of the age.
He sat up, lifting his flip phone from the bedside, and flicking it open.
“Hello.”
“Namjoon.”
“Yoongi.”
“Brother, may I ask you for a favor?”
“I struggle to comprehend why you come to me, a disconnected, hibernating vampire, for favors.”
“Ah yes, why would I reach out to the third eldest living vampire, who has extensive experience subduing the entirety of our race through brutal military means? Truly incomprehensible, my dear dragon brother of mine.”
“I haven’t worn that mantle for centuries.”
“Yet our race still bears the scars you doled. I still feel a modicum of surprise when I see a Dam over the age of five hundred.”
Namjoon sighed, glancing over his sleeping mate, fingers ghosting over his love’s precious face, feeling so incredibly grateful for his love’s young age.
He wasn’t old enough to have seen Namjoon like that, to know that Namjoon had ever been that.
There was no chance that his love may have been caught in Namjoon’s warpath, lost in the numbers of collateral damages, of weaknesses Namjoon mercilessly exploited.
For that, Namjoon was grateful, so externally, wholly, endlessly grateful.
However, even if Seokjin had been placed directly in Namjoon’s raging path, he couldn’t help but think that Namjoon would have been enamored, even then.
Dams were a weakness, certainly; one that Namjoon had exploited to cripple all his enemies. But, Seokjin was a weakness worth having.
Namjoon’s Achilles’ heel,
his little love,
his mate.
“You condemn my actions, but you reap their rewards all the same,” Namjoon muttered, “You’re a hypocrite.”
“Condemning mass annihilation helps me sleep at night. What can I say?”
A second voice, brighter, comes through the phone speaker, “Muffin, you promised only a minute on the phone. Stress will only deter your recovery.”
“Sorry, sunflower, one more minute, and then I’ll come back to bed.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows pinched ever so slightly, “Recovery?”
What sort of injury was out of Hoseok’s ability? The Dam was nearly two millennia old; the rumors said that a drop of his blood could stitch a head back to its body.
“I ran into one of Sabal’s generals as we tried to track their base. He tricked me into siring the human he had with him, and then when a herd of accident children overwhelmed our camp- he bit me and threw me down a canyon,” his brother growled.
“And then, all the little accident children gnawed at him, until my muffin finally woke up a day later,” Hoseok added.
Namjoon huffed a small laugh; Namjoon had own fall recently, after all. Namjoon glanced down at Seokjin’s slumbering face, his beautiful face, god, his mate’s beauty was beyond this realm, other-worldly, far too perfect.
“And it’s your fault, for thinking that Dams couldn’t have a place in Sabal’s ranks,” Hoseok chided.
“How was I meant to know? He was a Dam and so skittish; I didn’t have the heart to rough him about. Besides, I wanted to recruit him.”
“I love knowing that demon has more open views on gender roles than you, muffin. I truly adore it,” Hoseok retorted.
His brother’s raspy voice, softened slightly, “Sunflower, you deserve whatever you’d like. Rank, riches, respect; it’s all yours. However, I refuse to put your delicate hands to work. Even what you’re doing now is too much.”
“I barely gave you eight ounces of blood, Yoongi. I use more thralling our house maids,” Hoseok groaned, “I’m done, come back to bed when you’re finished.”
Namjoon grinned to himself, pleased that he was unable to relate to their couple’s tiff. He and Seokjin remained aligned on such things. “Trouble in paradise, brother?”
“So hesitant to help, so ready to mock.”
Namjoon sighed, leaning back against the headboard, feeling a hint of pity for his brother, “Fine. What is it? Though let me warn you now, I am not journeying north.”
“Nothing of the sort. We’ve been trying to track down the Dam. All I ask is that you keep an eye out, and support the units I send your way.”
“My way?” Namjoon questioned, eyes falling on Seokjin, then Jungkook, reassuring himself they were asleep and safe. “That war criminal is in Korea?”
“All I know is that they went Southeast of our camp. I didn’t finish siring the fledgling, so the tracking connection grew weak with the distance, and because of my injuries,” Yoongi lowered his voice, “Hoseok demanded I come home immediately so he could nurse me back to health.”
Namjoon hummed, a dilemma indeed.
“Very well. As I cannot leave my nest at the moment, I will alert your men should Jamilia find anything-”
Seokjin grumbled, turning onto his side, towards Namjoon, eyebrows furrowing. With another wiggle of his hips, he outstretched a hand, as if reaching for Namjoon.
Namjoon caught it, intertwining Seokjin’s fingers with his own, ending the call and throwing the phone across the room, as his attention re-focused on his mate.
He reached for me. He reached for me. He reached for me. He reached for me.
“My love,” Namjoon crooned, watching the infinitesimal twitches of his mate’s eyelids, “It’s alright. Sire’s here. I’m here, my love.”
—
It was frigid. Jungkook lay in the Ancient’s lap, and Seokjin was forced to sit still and watch as blood was poured into his darling human’s mouth.
“He was a Dam… I wanted to recruit him.”
The Ancient’s eyes were fixed on Jungkook, while his raspy voice encouraged, “There we go, almost t-
“-here. I’m here, my love.”
Seokjin’s eyes flicked open; he was in the Ancient’s master bedroom. It was still dark; the time was undetermined. Jungkook was asleep beside him, safe, smelling content. Namjoon was holding his hand, sitting up against the headboard and looking down at him with dark eyes.
“What’s wrong, my love?” Namjoon asked, brushing hair back off Seokjin’s forehead, “Hungry? Too hot? Does something hurt?”
Seokjin shook his head. That raspy voice had sounded so real.
Jungkook’s Sire isn’t here.
I killed him.
If the fall didn’t kill him, if my venom didn’t kill him, the children certainly did.
Seokjin let out a shuddering breath, parting his lips, expecting a lie to leave them. Instead, he said, “Nightmare.”
“Oh, my sweet little love,” Namjoon murmured, “What horror dared to bother my angel?”
Seokjin was going to lie; Seokjin was surely going to lie. But, Namjoon’s gaze was so soft, so intently focused on Seokjin; his tone was so loving. “Jungkook’s Sire,” Seokjin said, finding that his voice was wobbling, “I thought we were back with him.”
Seokjin never wanted to be back. He never wanted to experience the cold again. He never wanted to see snow again. He liked it here. He liked it here? He didn’t want to not be here.
Strong arms picked Seokjin up and set him in Namjoon’s lap. The Ancient cuddled Seokjin close, hiding Seokjin's face in his neck, so all Seokjin could smell was hot, hot, protective fire.
“My love, you’re never leaving my side. Both of you are never leaving this nest,” Namjoon hummed, voice so, so close to a purr. The Ancient rubbed his cheek against Seokjin’s temple, “And if that Sire is ever fool enough to show his face here, I’ll compulse him to your feet myself, and he can grovel for your mercy.”
“He’s old,” Seokjin admitted, unsure why he was sharing such things, unsure why he was clinging to Namjoon’s shoulders, unsure why this still didn’t feel close enough. “Really old. With a big coven. He wanted to keep me.”
“No one is older than me, my love,” Namjoon said, voice firm, “Let him and his coven come. I welcome it.”
“I-”
“You will find,” Namjoon said, voice still achingly close to a purr, arms squeezing around Seokjin tightly, comforting, non-threatening, “nothing tastes quite as good as the blood of a dead suitor.”
“Namjoon.”
“Let them come, let them give you the opportunity to taste a delicacy, my love.”
“Namjoon,” Seokjin whispered. He wasn’t sure what the tight feeling in his chest was, but he understood violence. Namjoon was finally speaking a language Seokjin understood. “... I want to try it.”
“Then you will. Anything for you, my love. Everything for you. Never doubt that.”
Seokjin couldn’t help but doubt it.
Namjoon’s words had to be a lie.
But even if they were, Seokjin had never been so content to be lied to.
His eyes fluttered closed, body relaxing as he fell back asleep, safe in Namjoon’s lap, protected in his arms, with the comforting scent of warmth chasing away any remaining thoughts of the cold.
—
