Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

1000 years after death

The snow is falling quietly in the forest, the silence broken only by the slow, deep breaths of Wonwoo’s prey. Wonwoo bares his fangs, just about to pierce the delicate skin of the human’s neck.

"Am I interrupting you?"

The voice sends a sharp jolt through him, and he turns his head toward its source.

He knows who he’s going to find, he couldn’t mistake that voice for someone else's even if he wanted to.

And here he is, in fact. Mingyu, leaning lazily against a tree, his long legs crossed casually at the ankles and enhanced by the tailored slacks, the fitted dress shirt stretched over his shoulders. Dressed in all black, a sharp contrast against the white of the snow. It’s striking, too striking, and Wonwoo wouldn’t put it behind himself for it to be intentional. As if Mingyu’s presence here, near Wonwoo’s house, needed anything to hit him with even more violence.

Wonwoo huffs in mild annoyance and releases his grip on the dazed human to let him go. His bite would have made the haze even deeper and given Wonwoo the absolute certainty the human wouldn’t remember anything about him, but this mild confusion will still do.

"What brings you here?" Wonwoo asks despite knowing the answer.

He stands up in one fluid motion and starts heading home without any further word. Predictably, Mingyu follows him, the snow silent beneath their feet.

"Do you even need to ask?"

Wonwoo glares at him, feeling his brows pinching together.

Mingyu is grinning, and there is a silly spring in his steps that somehow doesn’t disrupt the natural grace of his movements.

"Isn’t it earlier than usual?" Wonwoo asks, unable to keep the edge of curiosity away from his voice.

Mingyu hesitates for a split second before shooting back, casually, "It’s been about ten years since the last time I came?"

Wonwoo frowns in mild irritation. "Yes. Exactly what I said. You’ve been spending too much time with humans. Their conception of time is starting to rub off on you."

Mingyu shrugs, his lips curling into a lopsided smile. His canines glint faintly in the moonlight.

"Sure, that must be it."

Wonwoo shakes his head with a sigh, unable to comprehend and refusing to spend too much energy trying to, especially when his hunt has been so rudely interrupted and he’s starting to feel hungry.

They eventually reach the hidden tunnel that leads to his underground home, and Wonwoo pushes aside the foliage and the snow-covered branches that conceal it to reveal the dark passage. Once at the end of the tunnel, he reaches for the heavy door and pushes it open, the cool and still air inside his home hitting his senses along with the singular scent of aged wood and stone. He steps through, but stops when he realizes Mingyu isn’t following him, instead standing still by the entrance.

"What?" Wonwoo asks from over his shoulder.

Mingyu is looking at him with narrowed eyes, in that way he thinks makes him pass for innocent. It doesn’t, and not only for the tiny smile adorning his lips.

"You haven’t invited me to come in."

Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

As if that rule worked for vampires’ houses the way it did for human ones. More than that, even if that kind of magic worked for them, Wonwoo had - unfortunately, doomedly - granted Mingyu access many, many years ago already. He doesn’t know any kind of spell that could keep him away.

Wonwoo sighs heavily. Mingyu is still standing at the threshold, head tilted and a glint in his eyes. Absolutely insufferable and, sadly, the most gorgeous being Wonwoo’s immortal eyes have ever seen.

He steps further inside, waving a hand dismissively. Like he doesn’t care. "Come in, smartass."

A little giggle echoes behind his shoulders, and then Wonwoo feels the atmosphere inside the house shifting as Mingyu crosses the threshold, wood and stone singing as if welcoming an old friend. The air at his side moves when Mingyu walks past him, murmuring a low "Thank you" so close to Wonwoo’s ear that makes him shiver despite himself.

Pressing his lips together to refrain from sighing yet another time, Wonwoo heads towards what could be loosely called kitchen, when it’s really a space barren of human necessities but carefully organized with shelves and cabinets filled with glass bottles of blood and wine, meticulously labeled by type and year.

For some reason Mingyu is headed the same way, and if Wonwoo thought it was only because he wanted to have a drink, he soon realizes the real reason.

"What…"

He stops by the large wooden table in the center of the room, heavy and surrounded by mismatched chairs Wonwoo collected over the years. Between two ancient candles stands a bottle he doesn't recognize. He frowns, studying it. The glass is dark, the label hand-inked in an elegant script.

When he turns to Mingyu, he finds him already looking at him, an insufferable smile plastered on his face.

"You’ve been here while I was out."

It’s not a question, and Mingyu’s smile widens. 

"Was I supposed to bring this precious bottle with me as I ran around the forest looking for you, and risking breaking it?" he asks, jutting his bottom lip out the tiniest bit.

Wonwoo massages the bridge of his nose, an old human tic he doesn’t need to perform but that he can’t help but indulge into whenever Mingyu gets like this. He should have noticed it sooner. The house feeling different, its peace having been disrupted when he wasn’t there, the scent from Mingyu’s passage still lingering in the air.

But he didn’t, because the presence of the real Mingyu is still as overwhelming as the first time, even after multiple centuries.

Wonwoo’s very personal curse.

He turns his head slightly just as Mingyu approaches him, closing the distance in two fluid strides and pressing himself to Wonwoo’s side. His chest brushes against Wonwoo’s arm as he tilts his head down a little.

"Just a little gift for you," Mingyu whispers, his voice low and dripping honey and his lips brushing against the shell of Wonwoo’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

He slips away from Wonwoo’s side before he has the time to react - either by kicking Mingyu out or by yanking him down and not letting him leave for an indefinite amount of time - and sinks into a chair at one end of the table with deliberate confidence.

Wonwoo presses his lips together, watching as Mingyu leans back on the chair with casual ease, one arm draped over the side and the other resting on the table. Sitting at Wonwoo's table, in Wonwoo's home, like he owns the place. Looking at Wonwoo like he owns him , as well. The total black outfit and his sleek and neatly styled hair make Minghu look like one of those CEOs from humans’ tv shows – but Mingyu is a millionaire, albeit not a human one.

Wonwoo's eyes trail over him without his permission, following the fluid movement of Mingyu crossing his legs. His slacks hug them perfectly, their length and shape enhanced by the heeled boots he's wearing. That must be why he had seemed taller when he was standing next to Wonwoo earlier.

Wonwoo clenches his jaw as he begrudgingly realizes where his gaze has wandered. Down those endless, muscular limbs, strong and elegant and whose feeling under his hands and teeth Wonwoo remembers all too well.

He forcefully tears his gaze away, scoffing. His annoyance only increases when he catches Mingyu staring at him with that little knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He marches to grab two crystal glasses and ends up breaking the cap of the bottle with a sharp twist, too shaken to take his time to properly open it.

One does not live for a thousand years without learning patience, and that’s something that comes easily to Wonwoo by now. Except when he's with Mingyu. He’d like to say that tonight it’s worse than usual, but the truth is that things have been like that for a while.

Wonwoo hates how riled up he already is, how quickly and effortlessly Mingyu always manages to get under his skin, and this time more easily than usual. It usually takes him a little longer than ten minutes. And he hates that Mingyu is aware of it, his gaze heavy, palpable like a hand on his shoulder.

Pouring the thick blood in the glasses, Wonwoo hands Mingyu his without a word. He ignores his heavy stare and the pointed way Mingyu's fingers brush against his knuckles when he takes it, a provocation or just a silent thank you.

Shaking the feeling away, Wonwoo turns on his heels to sit at the very opposite end of the table. Their gazes meet through the space and beyond the ornamental candles, they linger silently, heavy. Only now Wonwoo realizes how romantic this moment would be if they were any different.

Mingyu is smiling, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "I don't know why you’re so keen on these huge tables. It's not like you hold banquets or big meetings…" He lifts an eyebrow. "Or do you, now?"

"I don’t," Wonwoo replies simply, his voice clipped.

He doesn't say how he bought a table so big specifically for times like this, for when Mingyu visits. To maintain a semblance of distance between them at least for the first couple of hours. To see if, this time, Wonwoo will be able to resist.

He's still trying. It's a fight he's been spectacularly losing for the past thousand years.

Mingyu’s smile widens. "Then you just like how romantic it is sitting like this?"

He points it out with a silly wink, and laughs when Wonwoo opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, in search of something to say but too outraged to find it.

Taking mercy on him, Mingyu takes a sip from the glass and looks around the room.

"Everything looks the same in your cozy little crypt. It always does."

"It’s not been that long since the last time you came," Wonwoo points out.

Also, Mingyu isn’t completely right. Some things have changed. Wonwoo has upgraded his TV and computer with the latest models, for example. And he recently acquired some smooth and crazily expensive silk bed sheets.

At that, Wonwoo makes a mental note about bringing them out at some point before Mingyu leaves. 

He still hasn’t used them for that specific purpose (not that he was saving them for when Mingyu came, it just– Wonwoo really doesn’t bring people into his bed) and now his mind is filled with thoughts about how gorgeous Mingyu’s golden skin would look against the creamy colored silk. How good they would feel as they roll between them, the smooth and luxurious fabric brushing against heated skin.

How pretty they would look stained with the dark red of blood.

Wonwoo would have to buy a new set after they’re done with them, but it’s fine. He chose that color specifically to make the red pop after all.

"My mansion looks completely different since the last time you came. Both human technology and aesthetic move faster than I thought, I made a lot of changes," Mingyu is saying, blissfully unaware of how Wonwoo has started to fill his pants.

"Did you."

He sounds hoarse in a rather telling way, and Mingyu’s eyes flick back on him instantly, as if sensing something.

Pretending nothing’s wrong, Wonwoo brings his glass to his lips, finally tasting Mingyu’s gift. The blood is rich and smooth, decadent, and his eyes widen when it fills his mouth.

"This is exquisite," he can’t help but marvel.

"Is it? I’m glad."

Mingyu sounds sweetly pleased in a way that compels Wonwoo to move his gaze from the dark liquid to Mingyu’s equally dark eyes. He’s smiling, less teasingly and more softly than earlier, maybe at Wonwoo’s word choice (he’s always teased him about that), maybe because of his gift being appreciated.

Wonwoo clears his throat, his grip on the glass tightening imperceptibly.

"Where did you get it?" Wonwoo asks, his tone casual as he swirls the blood in his glass and takes another sip.

He barely has time to process the flicker of movement before Mingyu is suddenly there, coming to stand at his side of the table in one smooth and silent motion. Wonwoo startles, pathetically so, as his gaze snaps upwards. Mingyu is towering over him, one hip propped casually against the table.

"It’s from my private cellars. Aged for ninety years." Mingyu tilts his head slightly, his smile suddenly unreadable. "You can have more when you finally visit me."

Wonwoo looks away, turning his gaze to the side. "I will, next time," he lies.

"You’ve been saying that for the past century, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo doesn’t reply. At some point, years ago, he decided there was something empowering - comforting, even - about not being the first to look for Mingyu, no matter the long-term agreement to take turns in seeking the other about every two decades.

Not taking any initiative gives him the illusion of control. Of not needing any of this. So that, every time Mingyu comes and Wonwoo welcomes him, it’s just him indulging in Mingyu’s whims and wants, and not Wonwoo desperately craving him.

Mingyu is looking at him closely, smiling as he sees straight through his lies. He slightly leans forward, his eyes dropping to Wonwoo’s mouth as he reaches for it with his hand, swiping the thumb across Wonwoo’s bottom lip. The feeling of Mingyu’s touch on him for the first time in ten years is as electrifying as always, and the slight pressure against the tender skin makes him twitch in his pants.

Wonwoo’s eyes follow Mingyu’s hand as it retreats, now painted a faint red, traces of the scarce meal Wonwoo must still have on his lips. It’s a natural reflex that makes him open his mouth as Mingyu brings his thumb to his own lips, then past them, and sucks it clean without breaking eye contact. Had Wonwoo had a working heart, it would have just skipped a beat.

Instead, he just feels the familiar heat simmering in his veins, that pulsing feeling in his canines and lower belly.

When Mingyu leans down, it is with a look that Wonwoo doesn’t like one bit.

"Want to know why I’m here earlier than we agreed?"

The heavy wooden chair scrapes loudly against the stone floor when Wonwoo jolts on his feet, the ancestral flight or fight response suddenly activated.

Mingyu doesn’t let him slip away though, closing his hand firmly around Wonwoo’s wrist and holding him in place. Wonwoo freezes, something inside him thrumming wildly. Not with fear, but with something far more maddening.

He looks up at Mingyu, having to tilt his head slightly more than usual thanks to Mingyu’s stupid boots. The added height, only seeming to amplify Mingyu’s presence and make him more imposing, should annoy Wonwoo. And it does, in a way. At the same time, however, he doesn’t hate it.

Mingyu leans in closer, the sweet scent of his breath and desire filling Wonwoo’s nose, clouding his thoughts. His chest heaves with breaths he doesn’t need to take, moving as if he’s starved with air and, without thinking, his free hand shoots up to grip at the front of Mingyu’s shirt. His fingers twist into the fabric, trembling, betraying him.

Wonwoo wants to scream.

He hasn’t even lasted an hour this time.

Mingyu’s smile deepens as if he knows exactly what’s unraveling inside Wonwoo. He moves until their faces are only inches apart, his breath brushing against Wonwoo’s lips, his eyes going heavy lidded.

Head clouded, all Wonwoo can feel is his own teeth and cock pulsing, and Mingyu’s hand moving to his waist, strong and unyielding as it pulls him even closer. The heat of his body, his hips flush against Wonwoo’s throbbing shaft. Wonwoo’s mouth waters in anticipation.

"Mingyu," he mutters against his volition.

"Yes?" Mingyu whispers. He sounds breathy but his tone is laced with satisfaction. He knows he’s about to get what he wants.

Their noses brush and Wonwoo swallows hard, his grip tightening on Mingyu’s shirt, every nerve screaming to yank him down and do something he absolutely shouldn’t. Completely close the distance.

Mingyu tilts his head, his curled lips ghosting over the edge of Wonwoo’s jaw, and Wonwoo’s lashes flutter—

"Is that a microwave?"

Wonwoo draws back, his thoughts grinding to a halt, and finds Mingyu not looking at him anymore, but over his shoulder where, Wonwoo realizes with an inner pained groan, there is indeed a microwave on the counter of his fake kitchen.

Flustered, he immediately lets go of Mingyu’s shirt and steps back, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Even my human feeders need to eat, sometimes," he mutters.

Mingyu’s lips quirk. "Sure. Mine too," he says, voice thick with amusement. "I hired a chef, though."

His eyes are glimmering with barely restrained laughter, his shoulders trembling with the effort, and Wonwoo’s jaw tightens, heat running through his veins. 

"Fuck off," he grumbles, trying to turn away. "I don’t even want to know how you pay your fancy chef."

Mingyu grins, showing off his fangs and taking a hold of Wonwoo’s wrist again. "If you’re implying my dick is better than money, you’d be absolutely right—ah!"

It happens in a flash.

A white-hot spark of anger surges through Wonwoo and makes whatever fragile thread of patience he’d been holding onto snap. The moment after, he’s grabbing Mingyu by the back of the neck and slamming him down against the table. The force of it makes the furniture rattle, but Mingyu doesn’t flinch. He just lays there, his arms splayed out on the surface, one hand still holding onto his glass and his cheek pressed to the wood.

"We’re starting early this time?" he asks cheerily, flashing Wonwoo a smile. He doesn’t sound pained nor upset, and why should he, after all? He’s been provoking Wonwoo since the moment he showed up.

Wonwoo leans over him, grip still tight on his neck. "You’re truly insufferable today," he hisses.

It only makes Mingyu’s grin widen and his eyes glitter with mischief. "And yet you’ve been thinking about getting me like this since the moment you saw me."

Sliding his fingers through Mingyu’s short hair, Wonwoo tugs at them, chest heaving as he presses his hips against Mingyu’s ass. He closes his eyes for a moment, slightly overwhelmed from both the feeling of his erection pressing against Mingyu and from the gasp the other lets out.

"I think you’re the one who's been thinking about this the most."

Mingyu doesn’t deny it and presses back against Wonwoo, making him groan.

Wonwoo’s free hand reaches around Mingyu’s middle to quickly open his pants and pull them down. He falters for a fraction of a second when he discovers that Mingyu isn’t wearing any underwear.

The giggling sound Mingyu lets out at his reaction turns quickly into a wanting groan when Wonwoo shoves two fingers inside him with the sole courtesy of spitting on them first. It doesn’t matter much. Mingyu can take it well even when he hasn’t had Wonwoo like this in years.

It upsets Wonwoo somehow, and he slams his fingers in harder, pumping them in and out fast as if he wanted to make Mingyu come already.

"Mmh, what the hell," Mingyu whines, forehead pressed against the wood. 

When Wonwoo curls his fingers with spot-on precision, a shattering sound rings inside the room. Having his prostate being attacked so early on must have made Mingyu clamp his hand so tightly on the glass he was still holding that he broke it.

"I liked that glass," Wonwoo mutters, still moving his fingers but giving Mingyu’s spot some mercy. "It was ancient."

He takes a fistful of Mingyu’s hair to press his face harder against the wooden surface of the table, and Mingyu whimpers. He pushes his hips against Wonwoo’s hand, asking for more and cursing when Wonwoo slows down.

"Fuck, Wonwoo," he breathes. "I’m gonna get you a new set."

"It was ancient ."

"I’ll get you an even more ancient one, come on," Mingyu urges him, turning his head to rest his cheek again on the table and glancing at Wonwoo. Glassed eyes who hold in a raging fire, the smile of someone who’s had him wrapped around his fingers for a thousand years.

There is blood spreading under his head, and the scent painting the air tells Wonwoo only a fraction of it comes from the broken glass. The crystal must have cut through Mingyu’s skin when Wonwoo pushed his head onto the table.

Instead of making Wonwoo worry or pause, it only makes his teeth hurt.

He keeps that one urge at bay, though. Mostly to prove himself that he can go without biting into Mingyu’s flesh for a reasonable amount of time.

Instead, Wonwoo pushes in a third finger, feeling the rim give in to the stretch. Mingyu moans, low and thick, and his perfectly kept fingernails scratch a little on the grain of the wood under him. Wonwoo pumps his fingers in and out loosely a couple of times more before pulling them out. He ignores the pained sound the action elicits from Mingyu and pulls his cock out of his pants, heavy and flushed as he grips it.

He gives himself a couple of dry strokes, almost losing himself in the pleasure of the sight of what’s laid out in front of him. The wide expanse of Mingyu’s back, the black fabric of the shirt stretching across the defined muscles that Wonwoo knows lie underneath without needing to see them. His long legs, all tense and twitching. The perfect swell of his ass, the supple flesh waiting, still waiting.

Wonwoo contemplates for a couple of seconds before spitting on himself and coating his cock with a slow pump before lining himself up and rolling his hips forward. The resistance he finds is nearly non-existent. Mingyu’s body gives way to him in a steady and easy slide.

"Yes," Mingyu breathes when Wonwoo bottoms out. "Fucking finally," he mutters in a low voice as Wonwoo pulls out and then pushes back in with a slam of his hips. And then again, and again, every thrust sending Mingyu higher up on the table.

Mingyu is breathing heavily, a rasping kind of pants, his legs twitching with tiny restrained movements. He feels like a dream, he always does, holding Wonwoo in with such warmth. 

"Fuck…" Wonwoo curses in a small, helpless voice, and Mingyu nods like he knows, like he gets it.

"Come on," Mingyu urges him, trying to move his hips to get more. "Take what you need, you know I can take it. I’m the only one who can—"

A drawn out moan cuts his babbling off at a stronger thrust, and then another, and another. Mingyu moans like his need for Wonwoo to take what he wants from him could kill him when little else would. As if he never gets it like this, when Wonwoo isn’t around. Full of lovers, his Mingyu, and yet…

Wonwoo grabs a fistful of hair to make him lift his head. He leans down to lick at the shell of Mingyu’s ear and gravelly murmurs into it, "For how many months have you been thinking about this before deciding to come and disrupt my peace earlier than we agreed?"

Mingyu laughs breathlessly, reaching with a hand behind himself for Wonwoo’s waist in an attempt to pull him deeper. He tries to turn his face and go for Wonwoo’s lips, and whines when Wonwoo doesn’t let him. His lips are bloody, he must have bitten into them at some point.

"I’ve been thinking about it since we said goodbye last time," he reveals with a dark and earnest stare.

And Wonwoo can’t do anything other than push his face back against the table and start to really fuck him. No more build up, no more teasing, just– make him take it.

But trying to shame Mingyu for his desire always backfired, mostly because the one who needed the other the most has always been Wonwoo. The thought of Mingyu being away from him for so long, the thought of other people being granted the privilege of touching him, tasting him, being his source of nutrition… Unworthy, all of them.

And the most unworthy one is Wonwoo himself.

He’s well aware of it, but he can’t help falling back into bad habits every time Mingyu shows up. He can’t stop himself from feeling that nasty possessiveness.

So many nights when Wonwoo feels like he’s going crazy with how much he wants to have Mingyu there. Obsessing over the thought for days, and hating it.

And so many other nights when Wonwoo wishes he could just kill Mingyu and be finally free. No more of those beautiful brown eyes staring at him with that blend of knowing gleam and earnest want, no more of that big and warm body pinning him down, no more of that sweet voice calling his name.

Killing him and keeping his corpse with him for the rest of time. Finally harmless, and completely his.

Wonwoo clenches his jaw to not scream. He shows no mercy after that, and it makes Mingyu’s back arch prettily, the fronts of his thighs pressed up against the edge of the table, his body jolting forward with each thrust of Wonwoo’s hips.

When Wonwoo looks down to where they’re joined, he finds Mingyu’s rim stretched thin around his cock, welcoming him like an old friend. It’s been a while since the last time.

"Mingyu…" he breathes his name out, sounding more helpless than he’d like to, and Mingyu clenches around him, moaning when Wonwoo brings a hand down and presses his thumb against the stretched out rim. The skin is hot to the touch, slick with Wonwoo’s precum.

"Fuck, fuck, Wonwoo…" Mingyu’s entire body shudders, his breathing hitching.

The table is making some ominous noises, but Wonwoo ignores it in favor of hitching one of Mingyu’s legs up until the knee is resting on the table, spreading him as wide as he can to reach deeper. This time, Mingyu bangs his forehead on the table on his own accord, and Wonwoo finds himself cradling his hand through his hair in an almost soothing way.

Mingyu has no room to move, upper body pinned down by Wonwoo’s palm on his head and leg held in place by Wonwoo’s grip. He can only take it, and take it, whatever Wonwoo wants to give him. 

His vision is dimming around the edges, his cock is throbbing, full and swollen, and it’s starting to become difficult to pull himself back with every thrust. Wonwoo whines at it, feeling helpless and frustrated. If he looks closely, he can see the corner of Mingyu’s lips curled up in a little smile like he’s loving all this, like this is going precisely as he intended.

The realization forces a groan out of Wonwoo and he falls into Mingyu, pressing his face into the crook of his neck. He relents and decides to release some of the tension in his gums by nipping at the tender skin there without breaking it. The angle is awkward, but the noises it pulls out of Mingyu - tiny whines in anticipation of a bite - make it all worth it.

He nuzzles into the side of Mingyu’s neck and pulls the collar of his shirt down to suck a mark right there, deluding himself that it will stay for everyone to see, that his skin won’t heal in a couple of minutes. He should just renew every mark nightly, but that’s an impossible task once Mingyu returns to his own home.

He sucks and nips, and Mingyu reacts beautifully, tilting his head to give Wonwoo more access. "Wonwoo…" he whines, pleading for a bite and for release.

Wonwoo fucks forward with the same hard pace, the sharp snap of his hips and the sound of his legs meeting the hard flesh of Mingyu’s ass.

"Was this what you wanted?" Wonwoo growls at him, burning all over. Their undead bodies would allow them to go at it for longer, with their nearly endless stamina, but it’s never just a mere physical matter between them, and Wonwoo feels like he’s about to burst at the seams.

"You show up out of nowhere, unannounced and uninvited, for what? Did you get bored?"

"No, no, you know I–"

Wonwoo silences him with a sharp thrust and a bite on his ear. From how Mingyu is clenching on him, he knows he’s been hitting his prostate with every push.

"Do you get off on pushing me to the limit?"

Mingyu shudders violently. "I’m gonna come," he gasps out. "I’m gonna come, I’m– Wonwoo–"

Tearing Mingyu’s shirt open to bare his back, Wonwoo finally gives in and bites him, his fangs sinking into the hard flesh, right near Mingyu’s spine, down on the muscle where Wonwoo knows it will hurt and where he knows Mingyu will enjoy it. In fact, as his thick, ancient blood fills Wonwoo’s mouth, Mingyu’s words break off into a long moan and he comes.

Wonwoo keeps drinking and fucking him through it, not slowing down, and when he’s brought to the edge from a purposeful clench around him, Mingyu’s hips are still jerking, cum still weakly spurting out of him.

Once it’s over, Wonwoo wraps his arms around Mingyu’s middle to make him turn around. It’s only then that he realizes the mess Mingyu’s face has become. Not just the usual kind of dazed and ruined, but there is blood all over it, blooming from the multiple cuts caused by the shards of glass cutting through the skin.

Wonwoo feels the line of his shoulders softening as a pang of guilt hits him.

He reaches out, cradling Mingyu’s face with both hands. "Hold still," he murmurs in a low voice as Mingyu winces at the touch.

"Okay," Mingyu promises softly.

He winces again when Wonwoo digs in with careful fingers, having to reopen most of the already healing cuts to pluck out the shards from his skin. His lashes flutter with every piece of glass that Wonwoo removes and his hands find Wonwoo’s waist, fingers curling tight around it to ground himself. Mingyu lets him work patiently, his legs open to keep Wonwoo between them, their hips flush, skin still hot and hard.

And maybe it’s that, maybe it’s Mingyu being even more beautiful than usual all beaten up and covered in blood, or maybe it’s just that bitter mix of guilt and desire, but Wonwoo can’t help but indulge in some softness, leaning in and tentatively licking Mingyu’s cheek.

Mingyu’s breath stutters, and Wonwoo presses his lips to a line of blood trailing from his cheekbone down to his jaw. His mouth parts again to taste him, finding the edge of a cut on its way and lapping it clean in agonizing slowness.  

"You’ve been so rough with me…" Mingyu murmurs with a shaky exhale, angling his head to let Wonwoo reach every spot he wants.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, too focused on swiping his tongue across Mingyu’s face, reveling in every little flinch, every shiver.

Despite Wonwoo’s warning, Mingyu is not standing still either. He keeps shifting, restless, his breathing quickening. His hands slide up from Wonwoo’s waist to undo the buttons of his shirt without looking.

"Mingyu…" Wonwoo warns him while sucking a spot under his jaw clean.

Mingyu turns to press a kiss to the side of Wonwoo’s neck and his hips start moving in slow, shallow circles against him. He loops a hand around the back of Wonwoo’s neck to drag him closer, voice breathless against his ear.

"You never call or text me," he complains, pouting and rushing, like it’s something he’s been holding onto for years and now can’t contain anymore.

"I changed my phone. I don’t have your number anymore," Wonwoo mutters.

Mingyu’s face is mostly clean and healed now, he should move back. Yet, he can’t.

Mingyu huffs. "You know that’s not how things work nowadays."

His other hand reaches lower to cup Wonwoo between his thighs, and Wonwoo lets out an airy sound that’s half a scoff, half an exhale. He looks away, flustered, and finally leans back to put some space between them, even with Mingyu’s hand insistently lingering.

"We’re vampires. We don’t– chat on the phone like teenagers," Wonwoo points out, less indignantly than he’d like because Mingyu just took him into his hand.

"We do, if we can’t meet face to face. Or…" Mingyu pauses, his voice faltering. "Or if we don’t want to meet."

Wonwoo’s gaze snaps back to Mingyu, and what he finds in his eyes is dark. Not anger, not even want. It’s something more like ache.

"It doesn’t have to keep being like this," Mingyu offers, quieter now, more hesitant. His palm strokes slowly between Wonwoo’s legs, coaxing. "We could–"

"Why doesn’t it?" Wonwoo shoots back bitterly, his voice cracking slightly at the end. "It’s worked so well until now."

Mingyu frowns, his hands suddenly getting more demanding, his voice more urgent. "You don’t come to my house anymore, you don’t want to hear from me when we’re far away. Wonwoo, you–"

He tugs Wonwoo’s hair to force him to meet his eyes, keeping him from slipping away despite Wonwoo’s sudden wiggling against the desperate hold. Mingyu searches his face, his pout fading into something softer, sadder.

"You know why I came. Why I keep coming."

Wonwoo’s breath catches, but he holds everything in as long as he can, until the ache crawling up his spine becomes unbearable and his own desire starts scraping against the old and frail boundaries.

"Enough."

His hands close around Mingyu’s wrists, forcing him to move them away from his body. He can feel the initial resistance, and then the broken acceptance.

The shift is immediate and devastating, Mingyu now looking at him with wide, sad eyes, the expression raw. His voice is so quiet it feels like it barely makes it out of his throat when he speaks, the words falling heavy between them.

"Are you still punishing me?"

Wonwoo turns his back on him. Sight is the easiest of his senses to block when Mingyu becomes overwhelming.

"We're punishing each other," he speaks. "This is our eternity."

One, two steps away. That's all the distance he's allowed in this life. Then, Mingyu's arms wrap around his waist and he's being hauled back between his legs, against his chest. Pressed against his unbeating heart, where it's both the safest and the most hazardous.

"Do you feel like I'm punishing you, Wonwoo?" Mingyu whispers against his neck.

"Aren't you?" Wonwoo tries not to lean against him, he really does. 

But Mingyu kisses the side of his neck, soft and closed-mouthed, almost reverent, and it's so easy to forget the danger of it all. Wonwoo's hands close around his arms, head turning to the side, still refusing to look at him. It unfortunately exposes his neck further, granting Mingyu more access. As if he doesn't have enough already.

"Isn't that really why you're here a decade early?" Wonwoo continues, even if his voice wavers.

"No," Mingyu replies, his kisses traveling up to Wonwoo's ear. "Is that what you always think when I come over?" He sounds pained still, regretful. "That I'm here to hurt you?"

Wonwoo doesn't reply. He doesn't have to.

"Wonwoo." Mingyu turns him around. Eye to eye, he's even more convincing. "No. Get that out of your head."

It's not Wonwoo's head that's the problem. His head has long conceded that no, Mingyu doesn't hurt him. He's never raised a violent hand against him, he's never touched him with anything less than soft adoration or heated passion. Even if he did, Wonwoo would forgive him for it. Even if one day Mingyu approached him with a silver ring, kneeled in front of him and asked him to wear it, Wonwoo would welcome the burn. God knows it's what he deserves.

But that's not the point at all.

"Why don't you see it?" Wonwoo's eyes lower. 

"See what?"

It's not Mingyu's touch that is the painful part. It's not that he's here a decade early. It's that–

"You'll leave again, Mingyu," Wonwoo mutters.

And now, it's Mingyu's turn to remain quiet. His lips part, a silent inhale. Because Mingyu still breathes like he's a human. He never stopped in the thousand years they didn't spend together. 

"Come here," he says eventually, arms tightening over Wonwoo's waist.

"Mingyu–"

But Mingyu simply sits back on the table and lifts him on his lap like he weighs nothing. Wonwoo has to tighten his hold on him so he doesn't lose his balance, his knees finding purchase on either side of his thighs.

"Come here," Mingyu repeats, cupping the back of Wonwoo's neck, bringing his face dangerously close, close enough for a kiss. "Ask me to stay."

Wonwoo turns his head away again. "That ship has long sailed."

"And will it never dock again?" Mingyu's hands obediently fall on his waist. He pulls him further down though, and the friction doesn't make his words any less enticing. Wonwoo's hips buck forward on their own, a pleasured sigh leaving his lips.

"What are you asking for exactly?" he tilts his head down, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

Mingyu is as innocent as ever when he blinks up at him. 

Which means nothing.

"Kiss me?"

Wonwoo cups his cheek, healed and soft now. The blood all but forgotten, an injury hidden with time. As always, the only blood that remains is on Wonwoo's fingertips. This time, he doesn't want to forget. So he smears it beneath his darling Mingyu's eye.

"Kiss you? No," he says, and then he's pushing him back down. Careful to avoid the glass this time, if Mingyu is even worthy of the courtesy.

He moves Mingyu's legs around him, pulling his pants completely off. He tosses them on the floor behind him blindly, eyes raking down Mingyu's splayed thighs. If looking at him is inevitable, then this is the sight he wants to get overwhelmed with.

Mingyu chuckles, something heavy that lacks amusement now. It must have gotten lost somewhere along the way, like most things between them tend to do, given enough time. Mingyu briefly closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, he's looking at the ceiling.

"That's fine too," he laments. "Anything you want, I suppose."

With one hand, Wonwoo pushes one of his thighs back. With the other, he strokes himself close to Mingyu's entrance, annoyed that he was already fully hard. That he'll always be hard and aching for him, his want a timeless disease. He pushes inside Mingyu with a growl, fist banging on the table by Mingyu's head. 

It's so good. It's always so damn good.

"Anything you want," Mingyu mutters again, blindly reaching for Wonwoo's waist, not to grab him closer this time, but to simply hold.

"You always say that!" Wonwoo cries out, pushing inside him again and again, frantic almost. "Stop- stop this-"

"Stop- what?" Mingyu looks at him through half-lidded eyes.

"This!" Wonwoo splays a hand over his lower stomach, clenching harder and harder with his every thrust. "You–" A groan. "You don't know what I want."

Mingyu's smile this time is so knowing and so infuriating, that Wonwoo purposefully changes his angle to hit his spot and make it waver. It's with half a laugh and half a moan that Mingyu pushes his torso up, resting his weight on one elbow.

"I don't know what you want?" he says, his legs trembling but his arm steady as it leaves Wonwoo's waist to go lower. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Wonwoo glares at him, trying to push him back down, but this time, Mingyu doesn't budge.

"Right," Mingyu's fingers travel down Wonwoo's hip, around his back. "Right."

Like how the tide longingly meets the shore, like how vines naturally scales walls, Mingyu takes ahold of his ass, fingers teasingly touching his rim. Wonwoo's pace falters, a jolt of traitorous anticipation running down his nerves. He can't help the way his eyes snap to Mingyu's, furious at the point he's trying to make.

Mingyu only uses his grip to move him, make him continue, no slowing down whatsoever. It's just that, his fingers remain there, brushing up against sensitive spots, less of a threat and more of a reminder. 

Wonwoo picks up the pace, making Mingyu sigh, wordlessly trying to make him let go. Hurt him or push him over the edge, anything to break his composure. Anything to make him lose all hints of control.

"Fuck," Mingyu's head turns to the side, cock leaking a slow stream. Wonwoo stares and swallows, saliva suddenly gathering below his tongue. 

"You know- nothing," Wonwoo pants. "Nothing other than how to come on my cock."

Mingyu's body goes taught, cheeks and ears flushing red. He bites his lips, and momentarily, Wonwoo thinks it worked. Mingyu's hand disappears from behind him, and the victory makes another wave of arousal wash over Wonwoo. He could laugh. He could also cry, ass clenching over nothing as he pushes into Mingyu once more. Whatever it is, it pushes him closer to the edge, and there's nothing to do about that.

What brings him back is the sound of Mingyu spitting on his hand. Then with a fluid motion, he reaches behind Wonwoo again. Pressing more insistently this time, rubbing slow circles where he once remained still. Wonwoo fumbles again, a frustrated groan coming from the back of his throat.

"Tell me to stop," Mingyu says, in a voice so wrecked that it sounds begging.

"Fuck you," Wonwoo's head lowers, shoulders trembling from supporting his weight.

Mingyu takes his words for what they're not, and what they're not is a refusal. Pressure becomes persistent, until Wonwoo's hips are bucking backwards as much as they do forwards. The breach comes without warning, and then, a century later, there's a finger pressing inside Wonwoo.

"Fuck, Mingyu!" he cries out, forehead dropping on the other's shoulder. "Fuck..." he almost sobs, body alight with so many sensations, one better than the other. Even with the awkward angle, Mingyu curls his finger with a terrifying precision, Wonwoo's body nothing but a book he has read a million times.

"Tell me again," Mingyu manages, strained as he is. "Tell me that I don't know what you want."

"Shut up."

"Tell me that I don't know how you want it, go on." Mingyu scoffs. "I know better than anyone, better than you even know yourself. I know all the things you can't bring yourself to ask for, and when I say you can take anything, it means that I'm already giving it to you."

"Shut up!" Wonwoo shouts, fist banging on the table again. It creaks ominously under his force, slightly swaying from side to side.

Mingyu bucks his hips up, messing up Wonwoo's pace even further. He brings a second finger to Wonwoo's rim, pushing it inside at an agonizingly slow pace. Wonwoo stills, he closes his eyes, but the sensations don't stop.

"When you come, it will be with my name on your lips," Mingyu slurs, his abdomen starting to tremble. "And-" a moan, "and it has been like that since the beginning." 

He hits their foreheads together, forcing Wonwoo's eyes open. Open, and looking straight into hell.

Still, a smirk manages to tremble on Mingyu's lips. 

"This. Our eternity."

Wonwoo doesn't know what's more powerful, the orgasm that crashes over him, or the way he slams Mingyu down on the table with all his strength. Mingyu's back makes a sickening noise when it hits the wood, and then he's shouting too as he paints their stomachs white. 

All balance is lost, the ground and the walls disappearing around Wonwoo as they fall together. They tumble to the ground, the table broken beyond repair. Wood juts out dangerously, a floor full of splinters. Expensive blood bottle and ancient glasses shatter, along with any other decoration Wonwoo was stupid enough to leave on the table.

It's not Wonwoo who moves them away from the mess. He still hasn't recovered, elbows drenched in blood from where he tried to catch himself. It's Mingyu who wraps his arms around him, zooming them to the other side of the room. They collapse on the floor there too, but at least there, they won't get hurt.

For a bit, Wonwoo gets lost in Mingyu's tight embrace, his laboured breath. They are a mess on the floor, Mingyu almost entirely on top of him. Wonwoo swallows, letting his head fall back on the ground. The weight on top of him is not bad. It's not bad at all 

At some point, a heavy grunt escapes Mingyu's throat, his face suspended in a painful expression.

"Did I break your back?" Wonwoo has half the mind to ask, hand reaching for the smooth plains of said back. So gorgeous, even as it shakes beneath his touch.

Mingyu merely places a kiss at the top of his head. "Don't worry about it," he mutters, the words struggling to get out.

Wonwoo doesn't have the heart to push him away. He sighs, fingers weaving through Mingyu's hair. Brushing it away from his eyes, clenched so hard the corners are wrinkling. Sweat has broken out on his forehead, and Wonwoo wipes it away with his palm. 

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "Didn't mean to."

"Don't lie," Mingyu says through gritted teeth. "You always mean to. I told you, I don't mind. You can do anythi-"

Now Wonwoo pushes him off. His insides twist painfully and he stumbles to his feet, rage reignited.

"If you say it again, I'm going to break both your legs too!" he shouts. "What's with you tonight, huh? Why do you have to make this so hard?!"

Mingyu pushes himself on his elbows, a defiant frown directed at Wonwoo's way.

"If it feels harder tonight, then perhaps it's time we talked."

In Wonwoo's mind, a quick array of images pass by. Him taking one of the table's broken legs and stabbing Mingyu with it. Kicking his already fragile back. Stomping on his legs and really do breaking them too. Add to the mess his living room has already become. If they can't have love, this is the next best thing.

Wonwoo looks behind him, anger and grief battling it out inside him. Those were good glasses, damn it. How fragile they ended up being. But, he supposes, if they had to break, at least they got broken together.

"This is all your fault," he tells Mingyu. "If you want to talk to me, fix it first."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Clean up your damn mess!" Wonwoo yells at him. "For once!"

While Mingyu still can't stand, he walks away. He gives him one last withering look before disappearing behind a corridor.

"I'll be in my room," he says, slamming the door behind him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The first thing Wonwoo does once alone, is bring his stupid silk bed sheets out of his stupid closet. He throws them on his bed with a curse, and then he glares at them, as if all of this is their fault.

He doesn't think as he strips his bed of the old sheets, having gone untouched for weeks. The only reason for this bed is comfort, and up until a few hours ago, Wonwoo hadn't needed any.

He had it all together. He lived a peaceful life, manageable if not fulfilling. For centuries, it had worked. But what good is a bed never used, a life never lived? A self that is only kept standing by frail ribbons hanging from the ceiling, getting frailer and frailer with the passage of time?

And Mingyu, coming here with his shiny scissors, snapping more and more of these ribbons in half every time he visits. He will break him again. Wonwoo will sit here and make his useless bed with silky sheets, sheets he bought specifically to make love to Mingyu on, and he won't lift a finger to protect himself.

He dresses his pillows last, putting them neatly against the headboard. A soft blanket is carefully placed over the sheets as a cover, all creases smoothed out. A perfect bed, wasted on him.

Wonwoo sits down at the very edge, face buried in his palms. Still naked from the waist up, vulnerable and cold, as noise picks up outside his room. Mingyu regaining movement, probably. Throwing out the trash that used to be Wonwoo's beloved table. He will probably offer to buy him a new one, only to break that too at some point. And again, and again, rinse and repeat, the same dance they've been dancing for a thousand years. Nothing is allowed permanence in Wonwoo's life, nothing except the one person who once promised to never leave him.

Wonwoo doesn't know how long he sits there, face lowered in despair. He only gets his sense of reality back when a knock comes at his door.

"Wonwoo?" Mingyu's voice sounds steady again. Tinged with that familiar worry, the one that underlines Wonwoo's doom.

He doesn't reply to it. He can't bring himself to.

Still, the door opens a tiny smidge, just enough for Mingyu to peek inside. Wonwoo's eyes briefly scan over him, the painless way he stands, the underwear he has put on. Otherwise, he's bare and unharmed. Healed. Wonwoo's head falls back in his palms.

At least Mingyu senses enough of his inner turmoil that he doesn't try to speak to him. He steps into the room quietly, and equally quietly he closes the door behind him. Wonwoo doesn't know what to expect when he comes closer, but Mingyu was right. He does know him, inside out and all around, so all he does is kneel on the floor in front of him. A hand behind Wonwoo's knee, one wrapping around his ankle. Then, he lowers his head on Wonwoo's lap.

If there was ever a way for Wonwoo to accept him right now, it's like this.

Mingyu takes a deep breath, cheek pressed on Wonwoo's thigh, and Wonwoo mimics him. His lungs expanding feels like an overwhelming task, but it does dislodge something inside him. Mingyu and him, breathing together.

His hands fall on Mingyu's hair, still a little wet with sweat. Still tinged with blood and violence. But Mingyu closes his eyes, oblivious to it all, seemingly content now that Wonwoo's touching him again. Easy and settled.

Wonwoo's lower lip juts out as he brushes Mingyu's forehead and tucks his hair behind his ear. Would it have been so wrong for this to be their forever? In moments like this, Wonwoo sees the version of them that did things right. The human one, where they would have long been dead, but they'd have managed to share a life.

"I am so tired, Min," he says, a burden unloaded, while his nails gently scratch at Mingyu's nape.

"I know," Mingyu's hand lazily travels up and down his leg. "Me too."

A small pause. Mingyu lifts his head so his jaw remains on Wonwoo's lap, and he looks up at him with unguarded eyes.

"This is why I think it's time to talk again," he says.

Wonwoo cups his cheek, plump and puffed from the way Mingyu's sitting. "Talk about what?"

"The things that are hard," Mingyu tilts his head to kiss the inside of his palm. "But those that are easy too."

Wonwoo's hand tingles where Mingyu's lips touch him. A tingle that spreads to his fingertips and up his forearm.

"Can anything be easy between us?" he asks.

"Mh," Mingyu hums, taking a gentle hold of his wrist. "You forget. I know you're doing it on purpose, to push me away, but..."

Wonwoo closes his eyes as Mingyu lifts his fingers to his mouth, kissing him all the way down his fingertips. His tongue follows, licking small stripes over his fingers' creases, sensitizing a skin that's already too sensitive.

In the end, he presses the back of Wonwoo's hand against his cheek and he exhales.

"If I show you now, will you remember it this time?"

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek. "Mingyu..."

"Please," Mingyu whispers. "I'm tired of fighting."

It is visible too, his exhaustion. The fire in his eyes is dim, getting smaller and smaller as the years pass. Wonwoo's been dreading the moment this fire that burns them both gets extinguished, as much as he's been looking forward to it. Perhaps if Mingyu gave up on him, and if he gave up on him in return, Wonwoo would finally find the courage to walk into the sun. Finally put an end to all this.

There is a reason Wonwoo forgets. Memories are nothing but wood and coal, keeping the fire burning deep in his gut. Kisses of affection and embraces that made him feel whole, engraved in his immortal body, cursed to always carry the feelings he died with. 

But Mingyu asks him to remember now. More than that, he's asking to show him how easily they once let each other in.

As if Wonwoo could ever truly forget.

"I know it doesn't look like it," Wonwoo caresses the side of Mingyu's face with his knuckles. "But it's always gone both ways." He swallows, scared to admit it even now. "You've always been allowed to do anything you want to me as well."

There is one particular way Mingyu used to look at him before they died. Late at night usually, when they were about to sleep. Facing each other from opposite sides of the room, on single parallel beds. Just a little before he turned around and blew the last candle out, Mingyu would fall silent and his eyes would turn dreamy, the way they do when one looks at the stars. When the night sky is clear of lights and clouds. When galaxies swirl and shooting stars blow across the cosmos, the light so precious in the absolute darkness. Mingyu used to look a little awed, a little uncomprehending of the vastness of the universe between and all around them. Innocent still. Wonwoo was the same.

Mingyu never looked at him like that again after their existence lost its ephemerality. So Wonwoo forgot, because it was convenient, and because he couldn't deal with this loss along with the one of his life. 

A thousand years later, Mingyu gives this back to him.

Wonwoo traces the blood he left smudged below Mingyu's eye, and he knows that it's not the same now, it can't be. But it's been so long, that time itself is starting to lose meaning. It feels like not a day has passed since they were human. It feels like it's been an eternity. Both at the same time, every memory, every look and every word existing simultaneously. This universe that is still between them, still just as vast and uncomprehending.

Mingyu swallows, lowering his face on Wonwoo's lap again. Finally overwhelmed too, the way Wonwoo has been for centuries now.

Wonwoo closes his eyes too. After such a long time, some things are not meant to be experienced by human senses.

He barely realizes it when he gets lifted off the bed. When covers are pushed aside and he's pressed down the mattress again, dressed so lovingly in silk and despair. His arms circle around Mingyu's neck on their own, hips lifting off the mattress as Mingyu pulls away whatever remains of their clothes. There's no hint of violence anymore, not when they're stripped bare, down to their souls.

"Wonwoo," Mingyu whispers, nose brushing tenderly against his cheek.

"Mh," all Wonwoo can produce is a hum.

"You are right here, yes?" Mingyu's voice goes so quiet it trembles. "With me?"

And there's only ever been one honest answer to that.

"Always."

A small breath is punched out of Mingyu. A thumb slides over Wonwoo's lower lip, and his mouth falls slightly open. Anything, he said. Mingyu can take anything.

A thousand years later though, Mingyu finally restrains himself. Wonwoo almost can't believe it when the touch remains, undemanding, and Mingyu doesn't claim the kiss he's been begging for decades. He kisses Wonwoo's cheek instead, his jaw and down his neck, all welcome with a brand new passion.

Mingyu's hand reaches for the bedside drawer, blindly for how many times they've been here already. He doesn't even look as he searches for the lube he knows Wonwoo keeps there. 

A clink sounds from inside the drawer. Something metallic hitting wood, and Mingyu stills. When he brings his hand out, it's not the lube he's holding.

Wonwoo turns to see what it is that has grabbed his attention and... ah.

It's an old, rusty dagger. One that Wonwoo hasn't bothered polishing in years. Made out of harmless steel, with a finely inlaid hilt.

"You still have this," Mingyu says, smiling at it like it's an old friend.

"Don't look so happy about it," Wonwoo mutters, mainly because Mingyu being happy about anything is a direct punch in his gut.

"Does it still make you feel safe?" Mingyu asks, tinged with hope.

Wonwoo swallows, hands tightening over Mingyu's back. "...Shut up."

"Does it remind you of me?" Mingyu continues.

It reminds Wonwoo of nights spent roaming town streets, looking for prey or just visiting Mingyu's old house. It reminds him of helplessness, of the reason Mingyu gave this to him in the first place. And, most condemningly, it reminds him how it felt painted in Mingyu's blood.

Wonwoo swallows again. His teeth ache, gaining a mind of their own. Because if he has to remember everything, then he also remembers the time that Mingyu's blood was the most accessible to him. That one year where his hunger could only be satiated by him.

Mingyu lays the dagger back down where it came from. And Wonwoo really must be an open book, because now, Mingyu picks up the lube.

Wonwoo closes his eyes again, his mind quickly drifting away once more. He hasn't allowed this to Mingyu in a long, long time. He had convinced himself that he was done being vulnerable, that it wasn't worth it. But now Mingyu touches him like he did the very first time Wonwoo found himself on his back for him, and Wonwoo remembers... He can't not remember the unexpected pleasure of it. The pure relief of having Mingyu inside, finally, truly his , if only physically.

It's been a long time. Wonwoo's sweating by the time Mingyu slides inside him, lips biting back a cry. He sees himself through all those countless years, all the times he took Mingyu like this. Times that make up the most incredible highs of his existence, the only times that maybe he was proven wrong, and everything actually was worth it. 

It is no different now.

"Mingyu," he whimpers, too exhausted to feel pathetic. His arms tighten around the other's neck, bringing their bodies flush together. "Oh, Mingyu."

Mingyu holds him back, arms snaking below his neck, his waist, face buried in his neck.

"Would this be so bad?" Mingyu mumbles the words, his movement slow and deep. Every time he bottoms up, Wonwoo's nerves light up and fade away, like the shooting stars he sees in Mingyu's eyes. 

"Would you really-" Mingyu's words fade in and out too, along with his composure. Small sounds interfere with his attempt to speak, but he does manage to get one sentence out. 

"Would you really- hate this?"

Hate. If only.

"Keep going," Wonwoo mutters, hands tangling in Mingyu's hair. "Ah, keep going, I want to- I want-"

Mingyu bites him. Hard enough to break skin and veins alike, the way they do to humans. Wonwoo's back arches as Mingyu's fangs retreat, leaving Wonwoo's blood to trickle into his mouth. Wonwoo's lips part, only a gasp managing to escape him. It's dizzying, the wound instantly tingling with venom, and Wonwoo doesn't even get to warn Mingyu about his release. It comes and it is fast, messy as he squirms in Mingyu's hold.

He always was quite defenseless to this pleasure. No matter how many years pass, his body remembers what it likes best.

Mingyu bites him again the moment the wound on his neck closes. His pace doesn't falter, but it is slow enough that the sensitivity Wonwoo is pushed to isn't painful. He wraps one leg around Mingyu's waist, making himself comfortable. For he knows, even as his muscles only barely stop quivering from his orgasm, that this high is not ending anytime soon.

Mingyu's messier the longer he drinks his blood, droplets of it dripping down Wonwoo's back to the mattress below. The sheets do get stained with it, just as Wonwoo imagined, and it really is beautiful. 

Only that, it is not Mingyu bleeding on them, like he was supposed to. It is him. 

It has always been him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Wonwoo's bed is not big. It had to be pretty narrow to fit in this cave, and even as the years passed and his meetings with Mingyu started being exclusively hosted in his house, he didn't want to change it. A part of him, quiet and insignificant once, liked how, once they were done, they had to remain cramped on it for a few moments. A minute or two at best, three seconds at worst before someone decided they wanted away.

Now, it's been ten minutes. Wonwoo's on his side, back facing Mingyu and eyes staring at the closed door. There's three words he needs to say, and the excuse of why he hasn't yet is becoming less and less valid as he lets the minutes tick away.

You should leave.

Mingyu is usually so good at reading between the lines for when it's time to go. But now, it's almost like he has died beside Wonwoo, unmoving on the mattress except for the way his chest rises and falls.

Wonwoo has criticized him in the past for breathing so unnecessarily. But now, he has to admit, he sees the worth of it.

It's comforting. A silent, unobtrusive reassurance that he's still here and that everything is okay.

"You should leave," Wonwoo finally musters the courage to say, fingers clenching over his pillow.

Mingyu takes a deep, slow breath. "We still haven't talked."

"Do you want it so bad?" Wonwoo's lips turn downwards, the dread that their intimacy chased away now starting to reemerge.

Mingyu could go on a long spiel about why talking is good, using every persuasion technique known to man to convince Wonwoo. He could be persistent about it while avoiding showing vulnerability himself. Sometimes, Wonwoo falls for it, and sometimes he doesn't. But in any case, Mingyu knowing how to talk to him usually involves a little bit of reason.

Now, all that's left is simple admittance. A tired, pained, "Yes."

Wonwoo doesn't say anything. He remains curled on his side, shoulders hunched and as far away from Mingyu as it is possible on this small bed of his. He doesn't know what part of this stance Mingyu sees and interprets as an invitation, but unfortunately, he gets it right. He splays a hand over Wonwoo's waist, warm still, and he starts tracing small circles over his ribs.

You should leave, Wonwoo should insist, but he's tired too. For a thousand years, there was no rest in sight. This small touch though, Mingyu shifting closer and pressing his forehead against the back of his neck, it holds a promise of something unknown. An attempt at peace.

Wonwoo would have jumped right into it, if only Mingyu's promises meant anything.

"Let's get out of here," Mingyu says, rushed and impatient enough to show that it wasn't a sudden thought. "Let's get my car and go for a trip. Have this conversation on neutral ground."

"A trip?" Wonwoo asks.

"My car has tinted windows, we won't have to fear the sun," Mingyu continues, and now he does sound like he's trying to convince him. "I will drive. We can go anywhere we want, take all the time we need. Would that... Would that make it a bit easier?"

Wonwoo considers it. They've never travelled together before. Every time they met, it has always been under someone's roof. Somewhere with a past and expectations. As it should be.

"The cars go really fast now," Mingyu mutters. "And there are highways wider than some of our houses. There are roads through mountains and bridges over rivers. At times, it feels like following these roads will take you to the end of the world."

"I thought you said the earth was round," Wonwoo mutters back.

Mingyu huffs a laugh, and Wonwoo feels the ghost of air on the back of his neck. "It is. But that doesn't mean that one can't experience how it is to fall off its edge."

In the spirit of remembering, Wonwoo recalls all those times it has felt like he was pushed over the edge, to the void below. It was hardly ever his choice. And it never got easier.

"But that's the beauty of it, you know?" Mingyu keeps stroking his side, the warmth of passion in his voice. "No matter how many times you fall, the earth will always be there to catch you. There are... endless chances to be taken, as long as one is willing to. And ultimately, even if you don't realize it as you fall, it will always be safe."

"Will it?" Wonwoo can't help but ask.

"Isn't it?" Mingyu asks right back. "Look how many times the earth has disappeared below our feet. Have we not found it again, after a while? Did we not... find each other, again and again?"

It is a pretty romantic way to look at it. But then again, is romance enough of a reason to justify it all?

"Let this roadtrip be a vacation, if you want," Mingyu continues. "If anything, we deserve some rest."

Wonwoo closes his eyes. What will it be then? Another chance, another free fall? Doomed to try over and over again, until they make it or die? 

Or does he just stay home, where decay is slow but certain? Where one day, he'll reach a point low enough to finally be able to leave this world for good?

What will it be?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Wonwoo locks the door behind him and makes sure the hanging plants cover most of it. He doesn't know how long he'll be away, and he doesn't wish to return to unwanted visitors.

He leaves with only a backpack thrown over his shoulder and Mingyu's hand in his. Part of him regretting it already, as his forest gives way to the dirt road Mingyu usually parks his car in. A large black thing, with thick tires to withstand the dirt roads. Plush leather seats and freshly cleaned mats, a radio system that starts glowing the moment Mingyu unlocks his car. And most importantly, dark tinted glass windows, the kind that humans created to defeat the sun.

Mingyu opens the trunk for Wonwoo to put his stuff in, and Wonwoo finds that it's already almost full. A duffle bag full of clothes, camping materials, even a mini fridge. He shoots Mingyu a look.

"You're already packed," he says, too tired to be accusing.

"Mostly. There are still some things I need to pick up from home," Mingyu shrugs, reaching for a side pocket in that duffel bag. He grabs a pair of sunglasses from it, the name of a brand that looks expensive engraved on the skeleton.

"Here," he reaches to put the glasses on Wonwoo. 

"What for?" Wonwoo leans forward to make it easier for him.

"How long has it been since you last saw the sun?"

Wonwoo's lips part, a tiny spark of excitement breaching past the restraints of exhaustion. He smothers it quickly, not ready for such strong emotions yet.

It has been a thousand years. Entire centuries since Wonwoo left the shelter of his home on the brink of dawn, the forest awakening around him instead of falling asleep. The wind blows through his hair as he walks around to the passenger seat, the leaves rustle beneath his feet.

Mingyu helps him fasten his seatbelt. All prim and proper, put together again in his dark clothes. He slides his own sunglasses on his face and then he turns the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life loudly, powerful, and only now does Wonwoo truly realize what he signed up for.

"Here we go then," Mingyu says, not managing to completely hide his nervousness either.

"Here we go," Wonwoo repeats. 

And so it begins.

Their thousand-year journey.