Archive of Our Own

Mingi is getting impatient. Even if he weren’t so vocal about it, Yunho would feel it bubbling and fizzing through their bond; the excitement, the hunger, the jittery anticipation. It is moments like these in which Mingi most reminds him of a puppy, dancing from paw to paw with ears flopping as he stares at the ball in someone else’s hand, eager for the chase.

Yunho smiles, soft and fond. “Patience, love.”

“But why?” Mingi’s usually deep and husky voice has a decidedly whiny edge to it, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. Yunho just shakes his head and goes back to watching the boy at the bar. Mingi huffs a very disgruntled little sigh and then plasters himself across Yunho’s back, letting his arms hang down across his shoulders.

Yunho hums, patting Mingi’s arm absentmindedly. He breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with the most intoxicating scent he has ever smelled. It makes images rise to his head, fuzzy around the edges, like memories of a past life. Running through the sunlight, laughter spilling across fields of green, blue skies and wispy clouds. Sinking his teeth into overripe fruit, the sticky sweetness exploding over his tongue.

He had heard of humans like this, had read descriptions of what their scent does to a vampire, but none of those records came close to experiencing it himself. He tries to imagine what someone who smells like that might taste like, and just the thought of it makes his teeth itch, a slight building pressure that he quickly suppresses. 

A shudder goes through him. Mingi’s arms tighten, and a moment later he feels him nuzzling into the side of his neck, dragging the needle sharp points of his canines across the skin there. The sensation brings him firmly back into his body. “Control yourself,” he says, voice low. “We’re not doing this if you can’t hold back. I don’t want any accidents.” A wave of almost petulant despair reaches him, for just a moment, before Mingi actually manages to pull himself together.

“I can control myself,” he mutters, words clear enough to let Yunho know he’d retracted his fangs. Yunho makes a doubtful little noise, but he doesn’t question Mingi. The truth is that he isn’t in the habit of denying his love the things he wants, and rarely has Mingi wanted anything as much as that boy at the bar currently chatting animatedly with Yeosang and sipping on a drink.

It doesn’t matter. If Mingi won’t be able to stop himself, Yunho will. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The little human throws his head back in laughter, a gleeful high-pitched cackle that reaches Yunho’s ears even through the din of the nightclub. Yeosang smiles at him, something soft about his features, and then his eyes flicker to Yunho, narrowing slightly before darting away again and focusing back on the drink he is preparing.

That can’t be helped. Yunho is aware of Yeosang’s… disapproval, but through the decades, they have reached a kind of tentative truce about these matters. Yeosang will not stand in their way when he and Mingi are hunting, and Yunho will do his absolute best to not genuinely hurt the people they feed from. He might have to work a little extra hard for that today.

“Alright,” he says, feeling Mingi jerk upright behind him, sending out another wave of fluttery excitement. “I’ll go talk to him. Stay here for a bit, I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Mingi tightens his arms around Yunho’s shoulders for a moment before releasing him and steps back. Yunho turns to look at him and smiles, taking in the way Mingi is almost vibrating with tension, visibly struggling to keep himself still, keep himself quiet. But he does it anyway.

He leans forward, pressing a kiss against Mingi’s plush lips, feeling them part readily. “Good boy,” he mutters, and Mingi shudders against him. “We’re gonna have so much fun tonight.”

Mingi’s eyes flutter shut, but not before Yunho has caught a glimpse of black tendrils creeping into the whiteness of his eyes. He doesn’t comment on it. Mingi will have enough time to pull himself together, and Yunho will just have to trust that he does.

He turns towards the flashing lights, the press of bodies writhing and dancing to the thump of the music, and steps forward. It’s always a little much for him, the overlapping noises and the variety of smells overstimulating, and usually, leaving the shadows of the heavy curtains surrounding this floor takes a bit of effort, but not today. The siren song of the boy’s scent pulls him in, overshadowing everything else. It almost feels like relief, to finally follow it.

Yeosang sees him coming and draws back a bit, picking up a glass to clean. There’s a subtle tightening in the skin around his mouth, signaling his displeasure, but the little human doesn’t seem to notice, continuing his animated chatting.

“…and like I said, I’ve been telling him to just give it a try, because how can you know you’re straight without at least giving it a try?” he giggles, and Yunho feels the corners of his mouth lift. Something about the sunny joy that is so present in the boy’s scent suffuses his whole being, his voice, his posture, and Yunho finds it easy to let himself get swept up in it. “And I swear he’s been staring at that one cute guy all night, and I mean he was wearing cat ears oh my god I can’t wait to tease him about it tomorrow. This is the best day of my life, seriously.”

Yunho slides into the seat next to him, making sure to press his elbow into the warm, giving skin of the human’s arm for just a moment. The touch sends tingles down his spine. “Ah, sorry,” he says, putting on his best apologetic smile.

The boy whips his head around, his black hair swinging with the motion, and gives Yunho a short once-over. He grins. “Oh hello.”

“Hi,” Yunho says, catching himself staring a little. The face in front of him is pretty, sharp in a mischievous kind of way, and there is some obvious interest glittering in those dark eyes.

Yunho forces himself to look away, not wanting to come on too strongly, and flattens his palms against the wooden countertop of the bar. “I’ll have the usual, please,” he tells Yeosang, whose eyes flicker between them for just a moment before he nods silently and turns towards the shelf of bottles.

“So,” Yunho says, keeping his voice casual. “First time here?”

“Oh no, can you tell?” Before Yunho can open his mouth to reply, maybe with some kind of reassurance, the boy laughs again, clear and ringing. “Yeah, first time here, and my friend just left me alone, can you imagine?” He doesn’t seem all that bothered by it, a definite edge of glee in his voice.

Yunho blinks. “Well, that’s- not very nice of him,” he says, cautiously.

“Ah no it’s fine, he just kissed his first boy today and I told him that if he didn’t go home with him I would punch him, so.” He shrugs and throws back the last dregs of his drink, ice cubes clinking together.

“Oh,” Yunho says, feeling a little out of his depth. His eyes settle on the empty glass, leaving rings of moisture on the bar top. “You want another one of those?”

The boy’s eyes snap to him, quick and sharp and assessing, and a grin spreads across his features. “Why, you buying?”

Yunho gives a half-shrug. “I might be.”

“Hmmm so what would I have to do to get you to buy then?”

“Well,” Yunho smiles, leaning against the bar. “You could tell me your name.”

The boy laughs, delighted, and holds out a hand. “Wooyoung,” he says, eyes flashing. “What’s yours?”

“Yunho, nice to meet you.” Yunho grasps Wooyoung’s hand in his own, watching intently as Wooyoung blinks, once, twice, before his shoulders move under a light shudder. Yunho lets go, but not before dragging his fingertips along the warmth of Wooyoung’s palm, prolonging the contact. A light flush rises to Wooyoung’s cheeks, and Yunho can hear the way his heartbeat picks up, can see the flutter of his pulse at the side of his neck.

The sunshine scent spikes, growing syrupy sweet, warm honey over ripe peaches. Saliva floods Yunho’s mouth, and he swallows hard, one hand gripping the edge of the bar.

The sound of a glass getting set down in front of him somewhat harder than necessary jerks him out of his momentary daze, and he flinches, looking up at Yeosang who gives him a warning little glare. “Thank you,” he mutters, embarrassment prickling at his skin.

He turns back to Wooyoung who is blinking rapidly, a hand scrubbing at the side of his face. “So, what do you want?”

Wooyoung gives his head a little shake and leans forward, peering at the glass in front of Yunho. “What do you have there, is that good?”

Yunho hesitates. He honestly has absolutely no idea. It tastes like absolutely nothing, to him. He doesn’t even know what kind of drink this is, other than that it is kind of purple. “Why don’t you try it?” He pushes it towards Wooyoung, who looks surprised and then very pleased.

“Ooh that’s risky, I might just keep it if I like it!” He grins, poking out his tongue between his teeth in a cheeky little expression before grabbing the glass and pulling it over, sniffing curiously.

While Wooyoung takes a sip of his drink, Yunho carefully releases the edge of the bar top, placing his arm across it to cover the dents his nails had left in the wood. He already knows Yeosang will give him hell about this later.

At his side, Wooyoung smacks his lips, face lighting up. “Oh yes,” he says, taking another sip. “Yeah I’ll keep this.”

Yunho laughs, fondness unfurling in his chest like a flower. “You’re very welcome to.”

Wooyoung grins, drinking deeply while holding full eye contact, and Yunho, deciding to be a little more daring, reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Wooyoung’s ear. He keeps his movements slow, projecting his intentions so Wooyoung would be able to dodge the touch if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even flinch, just keeps looking at Yunho with those dark, sparkling eyes.

The tip of Yunho’s ring finger brushes against Wooyoung’s pulse point, and for a short, glorious moment, Yunho can feel the blood rushing under his skin, pumping through his veins, so close to the surface.

Heat pools in his gut, sudden and blazing, and he has to take great care to keep his face neutral and his movements slow and smooth as he draws back his hand.

Silence falls between them, another long moment of nothing but the driving bass of the music filling the room, thrumming like its own heartbeat, loud enough to make the air vibrate.

“So,” Wooyoung says eventually, head cocked slightly to the side, a smile curling up the corner of his mouth. “Are you here alone too?”

Yunho opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, a tall body materializes behind Wooyoung, head dipping low. “No,” Mingi mutters, just a breath away from Wooyoung’s ear. “He is not.”

Wooyoung flinches, whipping his head around, staring up at Mingi’s face. There’s a spark of worry in Yunho’s chest as he watches the interaction, very aware of the somewhat predatory way Mingi is looming behind Wooyoung, tall and broad, his black eyes burning with hungry intensity.

Wooyoung stares at him for several long seconds, then he looks back at Yunho, his eyes wide. “You-” he starts, swallows. “You’re together?”

“Yeah,” Yunho says, still watching carefully, trying to read Wooyoung’s expression.

The seconds stretch like molasses, and Yunho has just decided that he should probably say something, try and salvage the situation, when Wooyoung lets out a bark of laughter.

“Jesus Christ, fuck,” he says, looking back up at Mingi, who has started sliding a hand around Wooyoung’s waist. “Is it my fucking birthday?”

Yunho blinks.

Wooyoung puts a hand on top of Mingi’s, halting its movement but not pushing it away. Mingi, to Yunho’s great relief, lets himself be stopped.

“What is this,” Wooyoung asks, eyes back on Yunho. “What am I getting myself into here.”

Yunho leans forward. “What would you like to get yourself into here?” he asks, keeping his voice low and silky smooth.

Wooyoung stares at him again, a little longer this time, and then he exhales, long and a little unsteadily, grabs the half full drink and empties it in several deep gulps. “Fine. Fine!” he exclaims, slamming the glass back onto the counter, making the leftover ice cubes spin. He throws up his arms. “I surrender. Whisk me away, gorgeous boys, I’m all yours.”

Mingi’s eyes snap up to Yunho’s, wide and triumphant, right before he bodily hauls Wooyoung out of his seat.

“Ah, Mingi-” Yunho reaches out a hand, quickly getting to his feet, but Wooyoung just squeaks and giggles, obviously delighted, and keeps giggling all the way across the dance floor, Mingi’s arm around him tight and possessive.

“Don’t hurt him.”

Yunho stops, turns around. Yeosang is looking at him with a deep frown on his face, the line of his jaw tight.

“I never hurt them, Yeosang.”

Yeosang scoffs. “Yeah well, they usually don’t smell like that.” His eyes narrow as he looks past Yunho, at where the crowd has closed around the others. “And Mingi is young. He’s- rash.”

Yunho itches to follow them, but he takes the time to reach across the bar, covering Yeosang’s hand in his. “I’ll be careful with him,” he says, as sincerely as he can. “And I’ll make sure Mingi doesn’t get carried away.”

Yeosang doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods, dropping his gaze to the empty glass on the counter.

It will have to be enough. Yunho gives Yeosang’s hand a last little squeeze before he turns and dives into the crowd, following the trail of Wooyoung’s scent and the ever-present pull of his mate. He smoothly makes his way through the dancing bodies, moving fast. He is not too concerned, Mingi had seemed mostly in control of himself, but the thought of leaving him alone with Wooyoung for any extended period of time makes him a little nervous.

The curtains are still swaying from where Mingi had pushed them to the side, and Yunho slips through, just catching the end of a question, the words tinged with both curiosity and nerves.

“…some kinda VIP area?”

“You could say that,” Yunho says, smiling as Wooyoung turns quickly, relief evident in his expression.

“Oh, there you are!”

“Didn’t want to skip out on the bill,” he lies smoothly, catching up to the two of them and placing his hand on the small of Wooyoung’s back, just below where Mingi still has a firm arm wrapped around him. The warmth of his skin bleeds through the satin fabric of his shirt, into his palm.

“Of course,” Wooyoung sighs, grinning, letting himself be steered deeper into the darkness. “Can’t have that. Don’t want them to throw us out or something.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Mingi hums, amused, and Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at him.

“Why, friends with the owner or something?”

Mingi makes an affirmative noise and tilts his head down, nuzzling into the side of Wooyoung’s neck. Yunho can see the way his shoulders rise on a deep inhale, sees a flash of Mingi’s tongue as he runs it flat across Wooyoung’s skin.

Wooyoung’s lips part, his eyes going a little glassy in that way that Yunho has seen countless times before, whenever humans get that first actual hit of their venom. It’s a much milder effect like this, saliva on top of intact skin, but it is an effect all the same. Only the supernatural sharpness of Yunho’s ears lets him hear the shuddery inhale, the breathy little “oh” that falls from Wooyoung’s lips.

“Mingi,” he says, quietly. He doesn’t make his tone too chiding, he doesn’t have to. Mingi raises his head and gives him a baleful little look, but he does step back, putting some distance between his mouth and Wooyoung’s neck.

Wooyoung sways for a moment, a little wobbly without Mingi’s arm around him, so Yunho moves in to steady him with a firm hand wrapped around his arm. “Come on, little one,” he hums. “Come with me.”

“Uh-huh,” Wooyoung says, a little dreamily, and allows Yunho to guide him through several more curtains, heavy and thick, until the noise of the club is considerably dimmed. Mingi follows them, eager anticipation still thrumming out of him in palpable waves.

They stop in the last room, a warm, dim light flickering on as Mingi quietly hits the switch low on the wall. Yunho turns Wooyoung around, takes his face between his hands and tilts his face upwards. “Wooyoung,” he says, a little more serious, and Wooyoung blinks up at him, eyes wide. Cute, Yunho thinks, again with that small rush of fondness, unexpected but not unwelcome. Up close, his scent is almost overwhelming, still with that syrupy sweetness.

Yunho wants to eat him.

“Ah?” Wooyoung chirps. He blinks again, and his eyes seem to clear a little. “Yes?”

“If there is anything we do that you do not like,” Yunho says slowly, infusing a little bit of power into his voice, hearing the way it makes Wooyoung’s breath hitch. “Then you will tell us. Understood?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung breathes.

“Furthermore,” Yunho continues, still serious but with a small smile pulling at his lips. “If there is something specific you would like us to do, please do tell us.”

Wooyoung stares, and Yunho very distinctly feels his soft cheeks heat up under his palms. “Okay,” Wooyoung squeaks, before his eyes visibly drop down to Yunho’s lips.

Yunho is not going to pass up this kind of invitation, and so he leans forward and kisses Wooyoung. Soft, chaste presses of his lips, until Wooyoung makes a breathy sort of noise in the back of his throat and parts his lips, granting entrance to Yunho’s tongue.

There is always a brief moment of confusion when the uncanny coldness of his tongue touches them for the first time, and so it is now. Wooyoung tenses, jerking a little underneath Yunho’s hands, and Yunho tightens his hold on his face and licks into his mouth, curling his tongue around Wooyoung’s warm one, and the human goes slack.

Mingi catches him, having silently moved to stand behind Wooyoung’s back, holding him upright with an arm around his middle. Wooyoung drops his head back against Mingi’s chest, his eyes closed, an expression of hazy bliss on his face.

Mingi looks up, meeting Yunho’s eyes, and his mouth slowly pulls into a wide, wolfish grin. “Hyung,” he says, voice low and husky and thrumming with desire.

“I know,” Yunho mutters, reaching out a hand to brush some of Mingi’s somewhat shaggy hair out of his eyes. How he loves him. How wonderful, to be able to give this to him. “Let’s make him feel good, hmm?”

It is usually not a struggle for Yunho to take things slow. On the contrary, he enjoys taking his time, savoring the slow build-up, bringing people to the edge and holding them there until they are a writhing, sobbing mess, begging for release. He very much has his work cut out for him with Mingi, eager and impatient, always hungry.

But even Yunho finds it hard to hold back, today. The knowledge that he could just lean down and sink his teeth into the fragrant little human in front of him is a constant buzzing thought in his mind, a temptation, an itch. He isn’t used to having to exert this much effort to control his hunger.

All the more reason to take his time.

He carefully unbuttons the silky lavender shirt hanging loosely around Wooyoung’s frame, uncovering more of the smooth, tan skin of his chest.

Wooyoung is breathing heavily, his eyes half-lidded as he watches Yunho’s movements, still resting his head against the firm plane of Mingi’s chest, who is pressing kisses along the side of his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Close-lipped and well-behaved, for now.

Once the last button is released, Yunho slides his hands along the sides of Wooyoung’s waist, brushing his thumbs across his heated skin. He looks steadily into Wooyoung’s eyes as he touches him, taking in the flutter of his lashes, the shiver going through his body at the cold touch. Slowly, he moves his hands upwards, sliding the shirt off his shoulders.

Wooyoung makes another one of his breathy little noises and digs his teeth into the plushness of his lower lip.

“Good?” Yunho asks quietly, and Wooyoung nods.

Yunho looks up at Mingi, who had been standing very still, tracking Yunho’s movements with his eyes dark and alert. As soon as he catches Yunho’s gaze, he shudders into motion, sliding a hand around Wooyoung’s neck and tilting his head up and to the side, firm but not harsh. Wooyoung’s little squeak of surprise gets muffled by Mingi’s lips, slotting against his with fervent intention. Wooyoung moans, high and thready, and he curls his fingers around Mingi’s arm, letting his mouth drop open.

Yunho takes a moment to just watch them, the way Mingi catches Wooyoung’s bottom lip between his lips and pulls, the way Wooyoung melts against him, his breath coming in short little gasps. The heat inside Yunho reaches a new height, pouring fire through his veins.

Beautiful, he thinks, almost desperately.

He sinks to his knees, his hands on Wooyoung’s narrow hips, and presses his nose into the softness of his belly, breathing in.

Sunlight filtering through leaves, insects buzzing, peaches bursting open in his hands, juice glistening as it drips through his fingers.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and starts opening Wooyoung’s belt with shaky fingers. It makes a faint swishing noise as Yunho pulls it through the belt loops, and he tosses it aside. He startles at a soft touch to his head, quickly realizing that it is Wooyoung, his hand tentative and trembling a little as his fingers tangle into Yunho’s hair.

Yunho holds himself very still, waiting to see if Wooyoung might be trying to push him away, but no. The hand in his hair tightens and pulls him closer, right against his crotch. Yunho laughs, soft and delighted. “Eager, are you?” he mutters, and Wooyoung whimpers.

The hunger radiating out of Mingi heightens to a sharp, feral spike. Alarmed, Yunho reaches out and grips Mingi’s thigh, letting his nails dig into the muscle. Mingi freezes. Yunho can feel the way he slowly pushes the bloodlust down, taking back control. Only then does he start moving again.

Wooyoung, who had made an unhappy little noise when Mingi had stopped kissing him, now sighs in contentment.

Yunho strokes Mingi’s leg appreciatively, letting his pride and his satisfaction seep through their bond, and Mingi’s answering joy, giddy and proud, makes him smile.

What a good boy he is.

Saliva floods his mouth as he opens Wooyoung’s pants, a small wet patch darkening the thin cotton of his boxer briefs, his hardened cock a visible outline against the fabric. He has to consciously bring himself to help Wooyoung out of his shoes first, black leather boots that hug his calves and thankfully have a zipper on the inside. Yunho gently lifts one foot after the other, a steady hand on his thigh, and slides them both off.

The boots have a slight heel to them, and Yunho suppresses a smile as Wooyoung steps onto the ground in just his socks, about three inches smaller than before. He looks tiny against Mingi, head craned high, the pale line of his throat exposed. As Yunho watches, he strains up onto his tiptoes.

It is so devastatingly cute, and at the same time so incredibly enticing, that Yunho has to take a moment to get himself together, to manage the ravenous hunger inside of him. Only then does he move to pull off Wooyoung’s pants, thick black fabric that has just enough stretch to easily slide over his feet.

The skin of Wooyoung’s thighs is just a shade lighter than his arms, still with that gorgeous golden hue, toned and firm and gorgeous. Yunho wants to sink his teeth into them. Very slowly, he leans forward and presses his lips against the inside of Wooyoung’s left thigh, high up on his leg. He feels the blood pulse through his femoral artery, hot and full of life. He opens his mouth, taking great care to keep his fangs tucked away, and bites down, gently, softly. Wooyoung twitches and whines a little, the pulse of his blood increasing in speed. Yunho can feel it through his teeth. He moans softly, feeling almost drunk with Wooyoung’s scent, with the pliant, giving flesh caught between his teeth, the taste of his skin.

Bite, bite, bite, the voice inside him begs. Just a little harder.

He doesn’t. He pulls back, dragging his tongue across the indents his blunt teeth have left on Wooyoung’s skin.

Above him, Mingi starts growling. Not loudly, not threateningly, a low, steady rumble deep in his chest. His fingers dig harder into Wooyoung’s neck, his other hand tightening on Wooyoung’s waist.

Yunho gets to his feet in one fluid movement. Before he can intervene, Wooyoung moans, loud and heartfelt and surprisingly vulgar. It seems to make Mingi startle a little, the growl cutting off, and he separates their lips with a soft, wet sound.

“Wooyoung,” Yunho mutters, cupping Wooyoung’s cheek and bringing their faces close. “Would you like us to be a little bit rough with you?”

Wooyoung pants, his cheeks flushed, his eyes half-lidded. It seems to take him a couple of seconds to process the question. “Yes,” he breathes eventually, still hanging onto Mingi’s arm, as if afraid he might take his hand off his neck. “Yes, please.”

Yunho and Mingi share a look, brows raised, and then Mingi repositions his hand on Wooyoung’s neck and pulls his fingers tight, properly squeezing for the first time. Wooyoung’s eyes go wide before rolling into the back of his head, his mouth dropping open.

Mingi stares down at him, a different kind of hunger in his eyes, and brings his lips close to Wooyoung’s ear. “Can I fuck you, little one?” His voice is husky and low, and Wooyoung gasps, the air wheezing through his tightened windpipe.

“Yes,” he rasps, trying to nod against the hold of Mingi’s large hand. “Yes, yes!”

“Christ, Mingi,” Yunho mutters, and Mingi grins at him, sharp and feral and victorious.

“Get him ready for me.”

Yunho raises a single, pointed eyebrow.

“Please?” Mingi adds, still with that glint in his eyes, the one that tells Yunho that he knows exactly he will get whatever he wants.

“Hmmm.” Yunho runs the tips of his fingers across his lips, pretending to consider this.

Mingi blinks, lowering his chin and widening his eyes a little into that puppyish pleading look that always makes Yunho so soft for him.

“Alright then.” Yunho smiles and reaches for the hem of Wooyoung’s boxer briefs, hooking his fingers beneath the fabric and pulling down. He bites his tongue as Wooyoung’s cock springs free, flushed and cute and slightly curved, concentrating only on helping him step out of his underwear, taking his socks off along with it.

When he rises back to his feet, he sees that Mingi’s hand has moved from Wooyoung’s neck to his mouth, covering the entire lower half of his face and pulling him firmly back against his shoulder. Wooyoung’s lashes are fluttering, eyes glazed over.

“Hold his leg up,” Yunho says, and Mingi’s face splits into a wide grin. He runs his free hand down the side of Wooyoung’s body, now completely bare, until he hooks it underneath his thigh. He pulls it up against his body with a tight grip, forcing Wooyoung to rise onto his tiptoes with the one foot he still has on the ground.

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide, and he makes a muffled sound against Mingi’s palm. His breath quickens, short little puffs of air escaping his nostrils.

Yunho steps close again, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead that had become stuck with sweat. “This alright?” he mutters.

Wooyoung blinks several times in rapid succession before he dips his head in a nod.

Yunho smiles. He lifts his hand to where Wooyoung is still clutching Mingi’s arm, softly touching the back of his hand. “If you need us to stop, or slow down, tap him twice, understood?” A slow blink. “Show me.”

It again takes Wooyoung a couple of seconds to process the question, then he flutters his fingers against Mingi’s arm.

“Good,” Yunho says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the dampness of Wooyoung’s forehead.

Wooyoung’s eyes drift shut, his dark lashes resting against his cheeks.

“Yun,” Mingi says, so softly that Yunho is not sure Wooyoung is able to hear it.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Yunho stares at him for a moment of stunned silence, warmth erupting in his chest. A smile spreads across his face, and he leans forward, pressing their lips together. Mingi sighs, a tiny little thing, content and happy.

Their kiss remains chaste, a long, firm press of closed lips. When Yunho pulls back again, Mingi’s eyes are so full of soppy, gooey love that he almost laughs again. Instead, he lets his own smile turn into something sharper, lifting his hand and lightly resting the tips of his fingers against Mingi’s full lips. “Open,” he commands, low but stern, filling his voice with power. He doesn’t need the extra authority, but he likes the effect it has on Mingi, the way his eyes go a little glassy, his breath coming faster. His mouth falls open.

Yunho pushes three of his fingers into the waiting dampness of Mingi’s mouth, resting them on his tongue. “Get them wet.”

Mingi makes a noise, deep in his throat, and starts curling his tongue around Yunho’s fingers. Yunho pushes them deeper, smile widening when it makes Mingi shudder.

He would have liked to play with Mingi a little longer, but there is still a little human caught between their bodies, naked and flushed and trembling, held open in Mingi’s arms.

He trails a hand down Wooyoung’s chest, letting the tips of his fingers brush against his nipple, noticing the way it makes him shiver. Wooyoung’s eyes are half-lidded, but they meet Yunho’s steadily. He goes slow, monitoring his reaction, until his hand slides around the swell of Wooyoung’s ass and grips it tight. Another muffled little noise gets caught underneath Mingi’s hand, his eyes falling shut.

“Look at me,” Yunho says, and Wooyoung’s eyes fly back open. Yunho lifts the hand that had been in Mingi’s mouth to the thigh held high in Mingi’s grip, slowly caressing downwards, leaving a small trail of saliva on his skin. Wooyoung twitches.

Just before Yunho’s fingers reach the junction of Wooyoung’s legs, he pulls away again, lifting his hand to his mouth and spitting into his palm. Wooyoung’s eyes go round, and Yunho savors this last moment of clarity in Wooyoung’s gaze before he presses his slicked middle finger against Wooyoung’s rim, circling it twice and then sliding it in until the first knuckle.

Wooyoung draws in a sharp breath through his nose, body tensing up and clenching around Yunho’s finger, before his eyes glaze over and he goes slack in Mingi’s arms.

Yunho hums. “There we go,” he mutters, working his finger in deeper. His control over his venom might not be quite at Hongjoong’s level, but it is definitely honed enough to expel venom into his mouth without biting into something. The trace amounts in their saliva had been noticeable to Wooyoung, but nothing like this.

The idea that it is both of their venom, his and Mingi’s mixed together, that he is working into Wooyoung’s body right now, causes a fresh blaze of heat in his core. He curls his free hand around the back of Mingi’s neck and pulls him in, slotting their mouths together in a deep, hard kiss, pushing his tongue between his lips.

Mingi groans, deep and guttural, tilting his head for a better angle. Hunger and desire thrums through their bond, and Yunho feels himself harden in his pants. It takes longer, for them, their blood moving slower inside their bodies, but he doesn’t mind it. He’d been enjoying the slow build-up. Now, he no longer wants to go slow.

He presses a second finger into Wooyoung’s tight heat, pumping them deep, and the noise that Wooyoung makes at that is choked and garbled. Yunho pulls back, seeing that Mingi has released his hold over Wooyoung’s face and has instead pushed two fingers into his mouth. Drool is coating Wooyoung’s chin, running down his neck. Yunho shudders, dips down low and licks it up.

Wooyoung’s body is covered with a thin layer of sweat, making his skin glisten in the warm light of the room. He looks like a dream, and Yunho’s heart swells.

By the time he pushes in his third finger, Mingi has started rolling his hips against the human in his arms, rutting forward in short little movements. He is shaking, eyes pressed closed, breathing heavily.

“Yunho,” he grits out.

“I know,” Yunho mutters soothingly, pushing sweat damp hair out of Mingi’s face. “Soon. Just a little longer.”

Wooyoung makes another noise, almost like he wants to say something, so Yunho gently pulls Mingi’s fingers out of his mouth. More spit dribbles down his chin, his mouth shiny with it. “’M ready,” Wooyoung pants, words slurred, lashes fluttering. “Please, please!”

Yunho blinks, surprised, then he laughs, light and airy and full of delight. “Is that so?”

Wooyoung nods emphatically, hair flopping into his forehead, a pathetic little whimper falling from his lips as Yunho pushes his fingers deep, curling them on his way out. “Please,” he gasps.

Humming softly, Yunho kisses Wooyoung’s open mouth, reaches behind him with his free hand and works Mingi’s pants open. He swallows down all of Wooyoung’s little pleas, his whimpers, as he wraps a hand around the familiar hardness of Mingi’s cock and gives it two lazy strokes. Mingi groans, a shudder running through the length of his body.

Slowly, Yunho pulls his fingers out of Wooyoung, who whines at the sudden emptiness, breaths shallow and quick. Yunho spits into his hand again and uses it to slick up Mingi’s length, whose grip on the boy’s thigh has grown so tight that Yunho wouldn’t be surprised to find finger-shaped bruises at the end of the night.

Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind, if he can feel them at all. His eyes widen when he feels the blunt head of Mingi’s cock nudge against his entrance, and then screw shut as Mingi begins pushing forward.

“Slowly,” Yunho warns him, and Mingi nods, lips rolled together, sweat pearling at his hairline.

Wooyoung’s mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out, not until Mingi properly fucks into him for the first time, his thrust hard and deep. The room fills up with Wooyoung’s moans, his hitching little gasps, and Yunho takes his face between his hands and kisses him, drinking in all those delicious little noises.

Wooyoung pants in time with Mingi’s thrusts, his body jerking forward rhythmically. When Yunho draws back and softly swipes at the wetness on his chin, Wooyoung follows the movement and sucks Yunho’s fingers into his mouth, slipping his tongue between them with a soft moan.

Yunho stares at him, fascinated. “Do you like having your mouth filled, little one?” he asks, voice low.

Wooyoung just moans again, louder this time, and gives Yunho’s fingers another hard suck, the sound of it loud and obscene.

He blinks up at Mingi, eyebrows raised, who is already staring down at him. “Yun,” he rasps, giving an especially hard thrust that makes Wooyoung choke on Yunho’s fingers, only to moan again.

“Well aren’t you the perfect plaything,” Yunho breathes. “Would you like my cock in your mouth?”

Wooyoung makes a garbled little noise around Yunho’s fingers, and then, movement small and weak but unmistakably there, he nods.

“Fuck,” Mingi groans. “Yun, fuck, please, come on, fuck his mouth!”

Yunho pulls his fingers from Wooyoung’s mouth, watching the strings of spit stretch out between them. “You little miracle,” he says, full of wonder and so, so fond. “Where have you been all our life, hmm?”

Wooyoung doesn’t reply, just gasps and moans and writhes in Mingi’s arms.

Yunho straightens up, taking another moment to watch. Mingi’s eager thrusts have slowed down to languid grinds, deep and rolling, his eyes firmly on Yunho. He is still holding Wooyoung up with one hand on his thigh and the other around his middle. Wooyoung’s foot isn’t even touching the ground anymore, dangling in the air, his toes curling.

“Bring his head down,” he says quietly, flicking open the button of his pants. Mingi’s face pulls into a wide smile, and he stops his slow grind as he carefully repositions his hands on Wooyoung’s body.

It takes a bit of trial and error, but in the end Mingi’s hands are firmly on Wooyoung’s hips, holding him up, while Yunho gathers as much of Wooyoung’s hair in his hand as he can in order to not cause too much discomfort.

“Okay?” he mutters, tilting Wooyoung’s head up with his free hand under his chin. Wooyoung gives another nod, the puffs of his breath warm against Yunho’s abdomen. “Hold still for now,” Yunho says, giving Mingi a warning little look, but for once Mingi does not seem too eager for his own release. He is staring at the hand in Wooyoung’s hair with rapt attention, at Yunho’s erection so close to their pretty human’s mouth.

“Tap my leg if you need a break, yeah?” Yunho says softly. No reaction. “Wooyoung,” he says, a little sharper.

“Yes,” Wooyoung gasps, bringing up a hand to loosely curl around Yunho’s thigh.

“Good boy.”

Wooyoung shudders, eyes drifting shut.

Yunho lets go of Wooyoung’s chin, holding his head up only with the hand in his hair, and grabs the base of his cock. He nudges it against Wooyoung’s lips, still shiny with spit and already parted for him. Wooyoung lets his jaw go slack, his tongue hanging out to cover his bottom row of teeth. Yunho smiles. Those blunt little teeth would not be able to do any kind of damage, not even to the softest parts of his body, but he appreciates the gesture all the same.

Slowly, he pushes his cock into the wet heat of Wooyoung’s mouth. It feels good, it feels fucking amazing. Yunho tips his head back, exhaling long and shakily.

“Fuck,” Mingi rasps, and Yunho opens his eyes. Mingi’s gaze is still firmly locked on where Yunho’s and Wooyoung’s bodies are connected, and the look on his face makes Yunho’s stomach go tight.

“Go on,” Yunho mutters, and Mingi’s eyes flick up to his face. “Slowly.”

Mingi rolls his hips, a careful little movement that pushes Wooyoung further onto Yunho’s cock. He feels it as Wooyoung’s throat constricts, biting back a curse. Before he can pull back, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm the fragile little human, Wooyoung moans around him, long and filthy, and the hand curled around Yunho’s thigh tightens, pulling him closer.

Yunho laughs, he just can’t help himself. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he asks, amused and maybe a little mean with it. Wooyoung whimpers, blunt nails digging into Yunho’s skin.

“Hyung,” Mingi grits out, jaw locked, the line of his body trembling with how hard his muscles are locked.

Yunho gives him a fond look, so proud of this beautiful progeny of his. Mingi’s desperation is getting so intense that some of it leaks into Yunho’s own mind, and he closes his eyes, letting it suffuse his body. He carefully releases the control he holds over their bond, letting more of their emotions flow freely between them. Mingi’s breath hitches, his eyes going wide for a moment, wide enough that Yunho can see in detail the way tendrils of black start reaching outward from his dark irises, growing and multiplying until his eyes are black, no trace of white remaining. He looks monstrous. He looks beautiful.

“Go,” Yunho whispers, heat buzzing underneath his own skin, and Mingi bares his teeth in a snarl as he tightens his grip of Wooyoung’s hips and begins fucking him properly, short, deep thrusts, every single one of them driving Yunho’s cock deeper into Wooyoung’s throat.

Wooyoung has gone mostly quiet, holding himself pliant and open. The contrast of his bare, flushed skin, golden and covered in sweat, suspended between their clothed bodies, makes his blood rush in his ears. He feels so fucking alive right now.

As Wooyoung releases a choked kind of sob, Yunho starts stroking a hand up and down his side, his skin so hot it feels almost feverish. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, little one,” he sighs, and feels again the way Wooyoung’s hand tightens on his thigh, his throat constricting on a swallow.

“Yun,” Mingi grunts, the line of his jaw tight. “Yun, I’m close, I’m close.”

“No,” Yunho says and Mingi whines. “Not yet.”

He pulls Wooyoung off his cock, who coughs and splutters and gasps for air, his face streaked with tears, dark glittery makeup smudged prettily underneath his eyes. Yunho pushes him up by his shoulders, and he has to exert quite a bit of strength to get Mingi to release his iron grip on the boy’s hips and move his hands back to where they were before, holding him up and open by his thigh and an arm around his waist.

God, he looks beautiful like this. Spread open so prettily for them, hitching little sobs falling from his reddened and swollen lips.

Yunho steps close enough to kiss him, just once, before he sinks to his knees and starts mouthing at Wooyoung’s poor neglected little cock, precum pearling at the head.

Wooyoung whimpers, his hips twitching, and Yunho wraps his fingers around his warm length and licks up the bead of liquid.

He tastes sweet. He tastes like honey, like flowers, like nectar. Yunho groans, sucking hard at the head. He is rewarded with another drop of sweetness, and a loud whine.

Mingi has started growling again, low and rumbling. “Open your mouth, hyung.”

Who is Yunho to deny his love? He parts his lips and relaxes his throat as Mingi starts thrusting in earnest again, taking great care to keep his fangs up and out of the way so he wouldn’t hurt the flushed, silky skin of Wooyoung’s cock. More precum runs down the back of his throat, enough that Yunho is starting to feel a little drunk with it, the edges of his vision growing hazy. This is dangerous, he knows it. One of them needs to stay in control, and it needs to be him. It has always been him, with good reason.

He doesn’t pull off. He holds onto Mingi’s thighs, trying to ground himself as Mingi keeps fucking forwards, filling his mouth and his throat with the heat of Wooyoung’s cock and steady little bursts of sweetness.

Wooyoung’s broken off moans and sobs are starting to slur together into one continuous whine, rising in volume, and Yunho pretends he doesn’t notice the way the warm body in front of him grows tense, the muscles of his abdomen contracting.

The whine cuts off for a single, endless moment before Wooyoung comes with a loud cry, trembling hard and shooting hot spurts of cum right into Yunho’s waiting mouth.

He groans, deep and guttural, sucking hard to get at every last drop. He dimly registers the way Wooyoung is squirming and sobbing from the overstimulation, but it doesn’t stop him. His mind is alight with sparks, with sunlight and warmth, so much warmth.

It is the spike of Mingi’s bloodlust, sharp and urgent, that finally wakes him from his daze, and he gets to his feet, unsteady and a little dizzy.

Mingi’s mouth is hanging open, his fangs fully extended and gleaming in the soft light, as he desperately ruts into Wooyoung’s body. His eyes find Yunho’s, pleading and desperate.

Yunho takes Wooyoung’s wet face between his hands, brushes his hair to the side and the tears off his cheeks and presses a long, lingering kiss to his open mouth, causing Wooyoung’s sobs to soften into little whimpers. “Thank you,” he whispers.

He tilts Wooyoung’s head to the side and lifts his eyes to Mingi, who had been watching him with a simmering kind of attention. “Yes,” he says.

Mingi throws back his head with a relieved groan, tightens his arms around Wooyoung, and then he drops his jaw and buries his teeth in the side of Wooyoung’s neck.

The bite is hard and vicious, and there’s a moment of shocked pain on Wooyoung’s face before it goes slack, pupils blowing wide before his eyes glaze over. It only takes Mingi a couple more thrusts before his orgasm rips through him, the aftershocks pulsing through their bond so intense that it almost brings Yunho to his knees. He grabs Mingi’s shoulders with unsteady hands, pulling him in until he can wrap his arms around the both of them, sandwiching Wooyoung in between their bodies.

The scent of Wooyoung’s blood is thick in the air, sweet and cloying, flooding Yunho’s brain with images and smells and tastes and it is all he can do to hang onto Mingi’s shoulders, shuddering with the force of his mate’s euphoria, rolling out of him in waves.

Time loses all meaning. Yunho basks in sunshine, breathes in warm summer air, fragrant with the scent of flowers and filled with the rustle of leaves and distant song of birds.

There’s a heart beating against his chest, fast and fluttering and full of life. It takes Yunho a moment to notice it getting slower, and he can’t seem to place the unease that causes in his mind. Why is it bad again when a heart gets slower?

Ever so slightly, the warmth starts dimming, like a cloud pushing in front of the sun, and Yunho’s eyes fly open. “Mingi, stop!” Without his conscious effort, his voice comes out full and layered and vibrating with command, and Mingi immediately stiffens underneath him, movements frozen. “Let go!”

Mingi whines, a heartbreaking little sound, but he unlatches his teeth from the boy’s neck, leaving behind a mess of blood and venom, tingling in Yunho’s nose. He takes a step back, and Yunho has to move fast in order to catch Wooyoung before he drops, his body limp and slippery with sweat.

Yunho brings him down slowly, laying him out onto the ground. Wooyoung’s eyes are closed, his face pale, but his heart is still beating and his chest rises on short, shallow little pants. “Christ,” Yunho whispers, feeling a cold drop of belated dread trickle down his spine. This was close, much too close. They almost killed him.

He spits his own venom into his hand and presses it against the side of Wooyoung’s neck, against the deep wounds that have already started to close. He holds his hand there until no fresh warmth leaks out anymore, and only then does he turn to face Mingi.

His mate is standing several paces back, eyes black as an ocean at night, blood covered teeth bared in a silent snarl. He holds himself stiffly, muscles locked and hands curled into fists. Yunho’s command is holding him in place.

“Come here,” Yunho says quietly, and Mingi shudders into movement, dropping to his knees at Yunho’s side. “So good, my love,” Yunho coos, carding a hand through Mingi’s hair and watching the way it makes him shiver.

He curls his hand around the back of Mingi’s neck and pulls him in, pressing his lips to Mingi’s bloodstained one. The shock of Wooyoung’s blood hits his system harder than his release had, and he licks greedily into Mingi’s open mouth, uncaring of the way his tongue gets cut up on Mingi’s canines.

Desire pulses through him, heat searing through his veins like liquid fire. “Fuck,” he gasps, pushing Mingi down without breaking their kiss, covering Mingi’s body with his own and rolling his hips right against Mingi’s crotch.

Mingi snarls, tearing at the fabric of Yunho’s shirt, his sharpened nails leaving lines of burning pain across Yunho’s back.

Yunho feels untethered, out of control.

He laughs, wild and unabashed, and starts ripping off Mingi’s clothes in return. It doesn’t fucking matter, he thinks as he grabs Mingi’s thigh and presses it against his chest, wild and jubilant. It doesn’t matter because it’s Mingi. He does not break easily.

His own blood fills his mouth from the wounds on his tongue, mixing with Wooyoung’s. It doesn’t feel complete. It doesn’t feel complete and so he shoves Mingi’s head to the side and bites him, uncaring of the way Mingi jerks underneath him. He is stronger, has always been stronger than him. Will always be stronger. He sucks greedily at the blood welling out around his fangs, while Mingi groans and gasps and clutches at his shoulders. He wouldn’t have been able to throw Yunho off, but he isn’t trying to. He is pulling him in, trying to get him closer, trying to get him to bite harder.

Yunho wants to fucking consume him. He lets go of Mingi’s neck only to meet him in another bloody, open mouthed kiss, and suddenly it is no longer just him running across the sun-filled fields, grass soft underneath his bare feet. There is a hand in his own, warm and comforting and familiar, bright laughter mixing with his own under the wide, endless expanse of blue sky.

He slams back into his body almost violently, Mingi panting underneath him, but he can still smell the flowers, the ripe fruits, he still tastes honey on his tongue.

The feeling that pulses between them is an endless, overpowering devotion. Yunho basks in it, wraps it around himself, lets it consume him. Mingi’s mouth is already open, and Yunho thrusts his fingers in deep, pressing down on the silken smoothness of Mingi’s tongue. He gathers as much moisture as he can before pulling them out again, slick with a mixture of blood, saliva and venom. Then, he presses Mingi’s leg up further and pushes them between his legs, sliding them both into his body in one sharp movement.

Mingi throws his head back and inhales sharply, pain flickering across his face before being replaced by pleasure.

Yunho could take his time, open him up slowly and patiently, but fuck, he is not patient right now. He doubts Mingi cares.

He pumps his fingers in deep, waiting for Mingi to stop clenching around him before pulling them out and notching the head of his cock against his rim.

Mingi’s eyes flutter open, and he stares at Yunho with his lips parted, breathing heavily. Yunho returns his gaze, feeling it burn between them, and pushes into him in one slow thrust.

“Fuck, Yun,” Mingi groans, throwing his head back. It bangs against the floor with an audible thump, but he gives no indication of having even felt it as Yunho starts rolling his hips. Mingi wraps his legs around him, driving him in deeper, and Yunho collapses down onto his elbows and again slots their mouths together.

He knows he is not going to last long, but it doesn’t matter. The desperation inside of him is so bright and overpowering that he doesn’t even try to pace himself, chasing his own release right from the first thrust, his pace brutal and fast.

“Can- can I-” Mingi gasps, the words slurred against Yunho’s mouth, his nails scrabbling against Yunho’s shoulders. “Can you-”

“Yes,” Yunho breathes, and he tilts down his head, baring his neck, burying his fangs in Mingi’s neck at the same time as sharp pricks of pain dig into his own. Their bond blazes golden, and for a single, glorious moment, they are one body, one mind. No beginning and no end between them.

The pleasure inside of Yunho snaps and cracks open, spilling out of him like sunlight through stained glass, shuddering through his body in waves. He releases Mingi’s neck from his jaws and collapses onto his body, panting and exhausted.

Clarity returns slowly, suffused with a thick, syrupy serenity. He sighs, content, as Mingi’s hand trails soft lines up and down his back.

“Hyung,” he mutters, his voice gravelly and slightly slurred.

Yunho hums. “I love you,” he says, and Mingi lifts his head and presses a kiss against his hair.

“I love you too.”

Yunho would have loved to stay like this, to bask in this moment for longer, but they are not alone in this room. He pushes himself up and looks to the side, to where the little human has curled himself up onto his side, eyes still closed.

Mingi winces when Yunho pulls out, and Yunho presses an apologetic kiss to the corner of his mouth. He has no doubt that he had left deep tears, but Mingi will heal fast, especially freshly fed as he is.

There is no saving their clothes, spread out in tatters across the room, but that is a problem for later. Right now, Wooyoung is their priority.

“Does he need an IV?” Mingi asks, propped up on one elbow, watching as Yunho brushes sweat-damp hair out of the human’s face. There’s a hint of guilt in his voice.

“Not sure yet,” Yunho says, pressing two fingers against the side of Wooyoung’s neck. “His pulse is going strong. He’s not as pale as he was, the fact that we had him held upright probably contributed to that. I think he’ll be okay without it.”

Wooyoung makes a soft noise, his lashes fluttering.

Yunho smiles. “Hi there,” he coos, brushing his thumb along the skin underneath Wooyoung’s eyes, slightly tacky with drying tears. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing happens for a moment, and then Wooyoung sighs, blinking one eye open, and a wide, beatific smile spreads across his features. “Mhmm.”

Yunho chuckles. “Feeling okay? Feeling good?”

Wooyoung nods, his eyes sliding shut again, still with that expression of pure, fucked out bliss on his face.

“I’ll need you to sit up, little one.” Yunho slides a hand underneath Wooyoung’s head and slowly helps him upright, despite the small noises of protest.

Something cold nudges his shoulder, and when he looks up it is Mingi, holding out a bottle of the electrolyte drinks they keep back here. His eyes are on Wooyoung’s face, still a bit worried.

Yunho accepts the bottle and brings it to Wooyoung’s lips. “Come on little one, be a good boy and drink something, yeah?”

Wooyoung sighs again, but he obediently opens his mouth, allowing Yunho to feed him little sips and swallowing them down. After a while he pulls away, squinting at the bottle. “That tastes like salty oranges,” he mutters, voice raspy and hoarse and somewhat offended.

“Yeah but it’s good for you,” Yunho says fondly. “Come on, you gotta drink the whole thing.”

Wooyoung gives him a woeful little look that makes a wave of affection bloom in Yunho’s chest, but he drinks readily. Slow, tiny little sips, until the bottle is empty. This whole endeavor seems to have depleted all of his energy, and he slumps against Yunho’s side, eyes closed.

“You wanna take a nap, little one?” Yunho asks, voice soft and so, so warm.

“Yes!” Wooyoung groans, nuzzling into Yunho’s chest. “Cuddles!”

Yunho blinks, taken aback, turning to face Mingi who has that same look of wide-eyed surprise on his face. “Um,” he says. The human in his arms starts snoring, and they both turn to stare at him.

“I guess… cuddles?” Mingi says, looking a little helpless.

“Well that’s new,” Yunho says, and then he grins. “It’s gonna get a little crowded on the couch though.”

“I mean,” Mingi mutters, peering at Wooyoung’s sleeping face, his softly parted lips. “We do have a bed.”

Yunho looks at him, long and searching. As a rule, they don’t bring their prey into their private living spaces, caring for them here until they are well enough to be brought home.

“Well,” he says slowly, looking back down as Wooyoung lets out a particularly loud snore, his body a soft, warm weight in Yunho’s arms. “I guess we can make an exception.”