Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s demeaning, worse, humiliating, to be sold at an auction. Especially for someone like him.

It’s been going for over two hours, two hours of having to stand still, ears picking up on every single little sound — from shallow breathing to frantic heartbeats.

He’s known of this practice for years, has been avoiding the hunters for just as long. He tried to disappear in the shadows once the rumour spread that humans didn’t want to kill them anymore, rather they wanted to enslave them — use them as their unlimited source of venom.

But one is bound to be found at some point, he’s learnt that lesson the hard way, the pain in his ribcage and the scorching heat around his wrists and neck a constant reminder of his mistake.

He had settled in too comfortably, the threat that the hunters and humans posed becoming an afterthought when it should have constantly been at the forefront of his mind. He knows he can only blame himself for what’s happening to him now, and that’s what angers him even more.

He was sloppy. He never was sloppy.

Vampires have always known what their bite could do, their venom being their best weapon in keeping someone alive but pliant, the perfect state to feed on preys. What they would have never expected is humans hunting them down to use said venom — turning it into the drug of the century.

What used to scare them now makes them desperate, addicted. Those who had gotten a taste of vampire venom craved another hit now.

So here he is, standing on a stage, bindings digging in his skin, burning. Of course, the bastards still use their best tricks against them. But instead of using them to weaken them and kill them, they use them to render them as harmless as possible — defenceless. He can smell his skin burning where it’s in touch with the holy silver shackles.

Cowards.

He hisses through gritted teeth when the auctioneer gets closer to him, but the woman only laughs in response, high-pitched and shrilling, and coos at him, calling him cute. Sharp acrylic nails dig into his skin when she cups his face.

He can’t see, but at this point he thinks he’d rather not. At least the blindfold saves him from having to look at these stupid humans’ faces.

Until she rips it off his eyes in a swift move. He hears the gasps before his eyes can adjust to the light, the spotlight directed at him blinding him for a couple seconds. But he knows why they react that way.

He instantly understands why she has exposed him, why she has kept him last.

Keep the best for the end.

He can smell the greed and lust in the air. He snarls, disgust twisting his gut, fangs elongating and eyes shifting to a mix of bright red and pitch-back, veins protruding.

“Now he may be a bit of a tough one to tame, but who doesn’t like a challenge?” the auctioneer says as she grips the back of his hair, tugging sharply. “He’s worth the fight, I’d say. His venom even more.”

A murmur rises in the room — private and remote from the rest of the auction centre, reserved to the elite only. He knows that no matter how threatening he looks, someone will buy him, he knows it may even sell him faster.

Because they all know who he is.

Park Jimin.

At least they know his face and name, the rest consists of myths and rumours that have been spreading around for decades — centuries even. But it’s enough to make his value that much higher, make him a rare sight and someone — something — to own and brag about.

He glares into the crowd, resisting the urge to snap his teeth at the auctioneer when she cups his face again and moves his head to the sides before letting go again. He’s heard enough about these auctions to know that auctioneers aren’t quite human themselves, although what they really are remains uncertain. Witches, half-bloods… Nobody knows for sure. He knows there’s no point in attacking someone he may not even be able to reach, though, not without getting staked by one of the hunters guarding the stage and keeping an eye on every vampire in the room.

“A little blood and he’ll look like an angel, too,” she continues, patting his cheek, as if that would increase the blood flow and bring some colour to his face. He’s all tapped out, has been drained of blood for the past two weeks so he wouldn’t pose any threat for the auction. “It’s quite the contradiction, wouldn’t you say, considering what he’s done to stay alive all these years.”

He can’t stop an annoyed roll of his eyes at those words and tunes her out, another second of actively listening to her grating voice and ridiculous pitch and he knows he would be done for. The lack of blood is making him more irritable, prone to making the stupidest mistake. He needs to focus on something else.

Whoever buys him has a death wish, he muses, eyeing the public — the potential buyers. He may be weak, but in order to keep him alive his buyer will have to feed him blood, which will slowly make him regain his energy and strength. They must know it’s only a matter of time before their precious venom supply turns against them and rips their throat apart.

Or that person is insane.

He can’t help but think that when he locks eyes with a man, young — much younger than most people in the room. He’s dressed in a green suit, hair slicked back, eyebrow raised, as if he were challenging him — or maybe just assessing him. He has his arm thrown over the back of the couch where he’s lounging, a glass filled with an amber liquid in the other hand. Another man is sitting by his side, talking to him, but he doesn’t seem to be listening.

Jimin can tell, he has all of the human’s attention.

However, before he can do anything, everything goes back to black, the auctioneer blindfolding him again. He feels a tug on his wrists and around his neck before he’s being led off the stage, the auction chant starting behind him.

The slight quirk — the beginning of a smirk — at the corner of the man in green’s mouth doesn’t escape him, though.

“You know you’re setting yourself up for murder, right? He’s going to rip your head off.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, he can’t wipe off the grin that’s been adorning his lips ever since the end of the auction, not even Hoseok’s constant protests can.

He feels victorious.

“Taehyung, Park Jimin isn’t venom source material,” Hoseok hisses in his ear as they reach one of the back rooms. “He’s dangerous.”

Taehyung sighs, a hint of exasperation flashing through his eyes, and turns around to face his friend. “That’s rich coming from you. You literally have a vampire waiting for you at home.”

Hoseok scowls at those words. “I knew Yoongi already.”

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah? Then I already know Park Jimin, too,” he retorts, turning back on his heels when the door to another private room opens.

The auctioneer is there, plump red lips spread in a bright smile, albeit looking a little predatory. Auctioneers have always given Taehyung the creeps, there’s a sinister aura surrounding them that never really fades off. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is, but he’d rather be in a room full of vampires than alone with even a single auctioneer.

“Taehyung-ssi, please come in!”

His eyes zero in on the vampire the moment she moves out of the way to let him in, letting himself be led to the red velvet couch by an assistant. If there’s one thing nobody could ever deny about Park Jimin, it’s his beauty. He’s gorgeous in the way just a glance at him steals your breath away, rendering you speechless. The moment Taehyung’s eyes landed on him at the auction, he knew he wanted him — no matter the price. The potency of his venom is one thing, he can’t even begin to imagine how good it must feel, but his beauty is just an added bonus — no matter how dangerous he is.

Taehyung loves beautiful things and surrounds himself with them, it would only make sense that if he were to get a venom source, it would be a vampire as beautiful as Park Jimin himself.

It would have been a shame to let him go to someone else.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” the auctioneer says when she notices Taehyung’s stare. She walks behind the couch where the vampire has been seated, right across Taehyung, and leans over him. “You’re quite the lucky man, Taehyung-ssi, not everybody can claim to have a vampire such as Park Jimin as a source.”

Taehyung hums in response, his attention not leaving the vampire, eyes locked with a pair of bright cobalt blue eyes. He notices the way they flick towards the auctioneer for a second before getting back to him, sees a flash of annoyance in his eyes — he almost smirks at that.

Park Jimin seems easy to rile up.

Though Taehyung supposes he would be annoyed too if he were in that position. It must not be easy to be a hyper predator, one as powerful as Park Jimin, and wind up shackled and sold at an auction to a mere human.

Yeah he’d be annoyed — scratch that, he’d feel murderous.

“We’ve already prepared everything for his transfer,” the auctioneer adds as one of the hunters brings a small briefcase, laying it down on the table in front of Taehyung before opening it. “Here’s the sedative you’ll need to keep him down until you have him secured,” she says, the hunter picking up a syringe and a vial. “We’ve provided you enough to last a good 24 hours. Older vampires tend to wake up faster than the younger ones. We want you to be as safe as possible.”

He can hear Hoseok mutter something next to him, but he ignores him, instead choosing to get up and walk closer to the vampire. He looks at the woman questioningly when he notices the lack of movement from Jimin, only his eyes are following him, and even then, his gaze seems to start losing focus. His wrists are still bound, but his hands lay still in his lap — he just doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch when Taehyung leans forward to be face to face with him.

“We’ve already given him a tranquiliser to keep him calm. You can never be too careful around someone like him, even with those bindings,” she explains. “Once you’re certain he cannot harm you, you should also feed him, we’ve prepared a few blood bags in case you don’t have any. The venom’s quality will deteriorate if you leave him without blood for too long.”

“We know how to take care of a source, it shouldn’t be a problem,” Taehyung explains, glancing at Hoseok before looking back at Jimin.

She follows his gaze to his friend, recognition flashing through her yellow eyes. She isn’t the one who was in charge of that auction, but that won’t stop an auctioneer from recognising the highest bidders.

“You’re the one who bought Min Yoongi, isn’t that right, Jung Hoseok-ssi?”

Hoseok smiles at her, but Taehyung can see from the corner of the eye that it’s fake, despite looking bright and sweet, as usual. He talks with her, but Taehyung can tell his friend would rather be anywhere but here.

So would he.

“I think we should go,” he says after he notices how Jimin’s head has startled lolling to the side.

He wonders how much tranquilliser they gave him, it seems to be more than just a little to keep him calm. Although he doesn’t care much for that, if they could keep their sources sedated at all times it would make their life a lot easier — and safer —, but the venom’s quality would be affected, just like not feeding them any blood would do, and it wouldn’t be as easy to extract.

No, right now he just wants to get away from this woman.

The more she speaks, trying to get Hoseok to talk about Yoongi in more details, the more she gives him the creeps — as if that was even possible.

”It’s very rare for a source to last that long, most of our buyers bring them back after a year.”

She may try to make it look like she’s simply curious, but he can tell — they can both tell — that her interest isn’t innocent. And Taehyung knows the more she pokes, the more defensive and protective of Yoongi Hoseok will become. He can already see the way his friend’s eyes narrow in suspicion the more she asks questions.

Min Yoongi isn’t a source anymore, after all. But nobody needs to know that.

So he asks one of the hunters to take Jimin to his car, claiming they should get him there as long as he’s out of it, and grabs the briefcase. The vampire hisses once when he feels hands on him, but it’s weak and it only makes Taehyung snort from where he stands, close enough so he can keep an eye on everything.

“Yeah, real threatening,” he says with a roll of his eyes, following them out of the private room.

He keeps his eyes set on Jimin and the hunter, making sure he can see at all time what the man does with the vampire. While he knows they have contracts that forbid them from killing the vampires who have been caught and sold as venom sources, he doesn’t trust a hunter to not try something dodgy. It’s almost in their DNA — vampires are a threat and should be eliminated. So he doesn’t let them out of sight, and in the end he’s the one to take Jimin from the hunter’s arms to set him down in his town car, blindfolding him again and checking the bindings around his wrists.

“I’ll meet you at your place. Be careful,” Hoseok whispers in his ear, one hand on his shoulder, squeezing once before leaving.

He straightens up, one hand on top of the car door, and watches his best friend walk to his own town car, disappearing in the slick black car. He can’t blame him for wanting to leave fast, not after the way the auctioneer had taken a particular interest in him and Yoongi, in their relationship.

Taehyung knows that Hoseok doesn’t quite take much fun into participating in these events anymore anyway, not after acquiring Yoongi. He only accompanies him because he has the feeling he needs to protect him, being the hyung — and Taehyung knows it’s also partly because of his mother, knows she must have made him promise to keep Taehyung safe when she was on her deathbed. Always so protective of her son. But neither Hoseok nor Taehyung will ever broach that topic — too painful. Thinking about it tends to make him roll his eyes in annoyance — he tries to be annoyed rather than let the painful memories swallow him whole —, wishing his mother could have trusted him more, but deep down he knows she just wanted him to be safe, and she couldn’t count on her husband to carry that task. So Hoseok comes with him despite not enjoying these events, and he sometimes manages to keep Taehyung in check, or at least he stops him from being too reckless.

Sometimes being the keyword. Because Taehyung has a tendency to always get what he wants, ever since he was a child. This time is no exception.

Still, no matter how much shit he may sometimes give him, Taehyung wouldn’t have Hoseok any other way.

“One of our hunters can accompany you, Taehyung-ssi,” the auctioneer offers, smiling at him.

He looks back at her, schooling his expression to not show his distrust — and aversion. If there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s for a hunter or an auctioneer to follow them.

To a less perceptive person she may seem sweet and helpful, just looking out for him, but he has grown up in a world of fake smiles and ulterior motives. She can’t fool him.

“We’ll be fine,” he replies, smiling politely. It’s fake, but growing up he mastered the art of deception to perfection — she is none the wiser. “You have given us everything we need to handle Park Jimin.”

The briefcase is laid down right next to the vampire. Taehyung will keep the tranquiliser close, just in case.

“If you say so…”

He nods, flashing her another smile, and sits down in the car, hand on the handle.

“Be safe, Taehyung-ssi,” she says, one hand stopping him from closing the door. Her smile has turned more sinister, her acrylic nails remind him of the Furies’ claws. “Enjoy him as long as you can.”

He narrows his eyes at her, her words sounding like a threat more than an advice, but he doesn’t get to reply anything, the woman closing the door. He keeps his eyes on her through the tinted window while his driver pulls out of the parking spot. She looks right back at him, her yellow eyes gleaming in the dark, although she can’t see through the window.

He can’t stop the heavy sigh that leaves him then.

Auctioneers really make his skin crawl.

“You better be worth it,” he groans, glancing at Jimin. “Make sure nobody’s following us,” he then tells his driver, sitting back in the leather seat, running a hand through his hair and undoing his tie.

As they drive through Seoul and get further away from the auction centre, a smile slowly creeps up his face, laughter bubbling up his throat. He throws his head back and grins. Fuck, he didn’t think he would actually get Park Jimin.

And yet...

He leans towards Jimin, cupping his jaw carefully. Park Jimin looks like he’s made of porcelain, or has been crafted by the gods. Taehyung has truly never seen someone as breathtaking — the danger he represents just adding to his beauty. He thumbs at his plump lips, revealing the vampire’s sharp white fangs.

His breath hitches.

“We’re gonna have so much fun.”

Chapter Text

Jimin slowly wakes up to the feeling of his mouth being filled with cotton, head heavy and throbbing with a dull, relentless ache.

It only takes him a second to jerk upright, instincts kicking in, but when he tries to stand up, he’s yanked back — the sharp clink of chains and the cold of metal biting into his wrists and ankles finally registering.

He slouches back against the wall behind him, eyes drifting across the dim room as he takes in his surroundings. It’s dark, just a sliver of light slipping through the curtains behind a couch, casting faint shadows across the room. He can’t help but arch an eyebrow in surprise when his gaze lands on the bed across from him. Everything in this room looks… ordinary. In any other situation, it could be mistaken for a regular guest room, if only there weren’t shackles scattered in several corners, bolted firmly into the walls and floor.

Nothing here is ordinary. There’s no mistake what this room was made for.

His nose scrunches in disgust at the sharp, raw stench of burnt skin. He looks down at his wrists, skin blistering an angry red beneath the cold, burning silver. He groans, his senses coming back to him under the haze of the tranquilisers.

His fingers twitch, nails scraping against the hardwood floor. The cloth in his mouth tastes like poison, ashy and bitter — he wants to spit it out, but he can feel the way it’s tied at the back of his head, he can’t do anything about it. He throws his head back against the wall, vision blurring around the edges as he tries to focus on the sounds surrounding him instead, but he’s weak, even weaker than at the auction. He can only make out the faint noise of footsteps and voices somewhere on another floor — all he can figure out is that they’re two men.

He can’t remember a single thing after he was led off the stage, he can’t even remember who ended up winning the bid.

He doesn’t even know how long has passed. Has it only been a few hours? Or has it been longer than that?

He needs blood. Centuries have taught him to go weeks without feeding without even a hint of hunger, sometimes even months if he has to, but this is different. He was starved and deliberately drained of all his blood — add in whatever poisonous cocktail laced those tranquilisers the hunters used, and he can already feel the way his body is slowly giving out. Whatever it is, it isn’t just keeping him docile, it’s spreading through him like a virus, an unnatural sort of decay eating at him — paralysis akin to rigor mortis slowly turning his body into stone. Soon, he will be nothing but a conscious corpse, unable to move, let alone fight.

He’d rather die than endure that pain, but the choice isn’t his to make, is it? Whoever bought him will want to keep him alive, though. If they wanted him to die, they could just have left him in the hands of the hunters. No, they want his venom. However, to extract it, they’ll need to feed him, there’s no way around it.

A resource, a transaction.

Right now, that’s all he is.

Pathetic.

His eyes snap to the door when he hears footsteps come closer. He can now hear the thump of a heartbeat through the wall, all of his senses zeroing in on it. He can feel his fangs growing out of his gums, piercing through the cloth in his mouth.

He growls when the door swings open, the person stepping in none other than the man in green from the auction centre.

Of course he’s the one who bought him.

He’s changed, which tells Jimin it’s probably the next day, if not later. The green suit is gone, replaced by a baggier, more casual, black outfit.

“Finally, you’re awake,” he says, voice a deep baritone, turning on a light before setting down a briefcase on the coffee table by the couch. “I don’t know what kind of tranquiliser they gave you, but it knocked you out for longer than I thought.”

He hears him mutter “fucking hunters” under his breath as he comes to stand in front of Jimin. He looks up and meets his eyes, hissing through the cloth as best as he can. He’s young, or at least younger than whoever he expected would buy him — probably around the same age Jimin was when he was turned. Handsome, too. And his scent… Jimin can feel the way his mouth waters. He hasn’t met a human with a scent like this in decades.

Warm amber with a hint of spice.

He crouches down, now at eye level, before reaching forward, making Jimin recoil with the little strength he still has, slamming his head against the wall behind him. He hisses, the dull ache turning into sharp pain.

The man just snorts, completely unfazed by Jimin’s reaction. His fingers work behind his head, loosening the knot until the cloth finally falls from his lips.

Jimin’s first instinct is to lunge, fangs bared, ready to snap at whatever is in his reach. But he’s slow, even slower than a human, as humiliating as it is to admit, and all he meets is air as the other has already taken a step back, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Feisty,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Take the chains off and we’ll see how you feel,” he hisses, voice barely coming above a whisper.

“Tempting, but no.”

He rises to his feet and walks back to the couch, opening the briefcase. Jimin’s lips curl into a snarl the moment he sees him take out a box filled with rows of syringes and small glass vials, a silver liquid filling every single one of them. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a cold knot of dread twisting his insides. He doesn’t need to ask what’s in the vials, he’s felt it burn through his veins for two weeks at the hands of the hunters.

“Taehyung-ah, I still think this is…”

Jimin’s eyes snap to the newcomer, immediately recognising him as the man who had been sitting with the other at the auction.

“Oh, he’s awake.”

Something in his stance and the look in his eyes makes it clear he’s not comfortable with this situation. There’s apprehension in his eyes, maybe even disapproval. He lingers by the doorway, the tension in his posture betraying his reluctance. His eyes flick to Jimin, then back to Taehyung, then at the cup and bag he’s holding.

“I’d have given him the reversal agent if he wasn’t up yet. We can’t leave him without blood any longer,” the man called Taehyung says, glancing at Jimin before accepting the cup from the other, setting down the box with the syringes.

“You mean you can’t. I still don’t think this is a good idea,” the other retorts with a sigh.

“Whatever, hyung.”

Taehyung walks back towards him, only with the cup in hand, but Jimin’s eyes stay locked on the syringes. He can’t have more of that poison injected — he knows it, and it seems these two humans do too.

“Now, that cloth was meant to numb your mouth, keep your pretty little fangs away,” he says with a sigh, crouching in front of him again. “Looks like it didn’t do much.”

He twists the lid off the cup, Jimin’s attention snapping to it the moment the familiar scent hits the air — rich and warm.

Blood.

Hunger flares up, scorching hot and unforgiving, making his head spin in its intensity. For just a moment, he can feel the way his body is ready to pounce. He can taste the blood on his tongue, can feel it on his hands as his fangs latch on Taehyung’s throat, cup forgotten — nothing better than a live source. He can see Taehyung’s beautiful face twisting in pain as he rips him apart for even daring to think he could overpower someone like Jimin.

But he doesn’t move.

He can’t.

“If you behave, though…” Taehyung trails off, giving the cup a slight shake, just out of Jimin’s reach — a clear bait.

Or is it a threat?

Jimin forces himself to stay still — muscles locked tight, jaw clenched, fangs throbbing, just aching to dig into flesh. His body is screaming at him in protest, but even he knows he doesn't have the strength to do anything, and even if he did… the silver shackles are too short for him to really move.

They both know he needs the blood, but while Taehyung obviously treats it like a game, for Jimin, it’s a matter of survival — plain and simple.

Taehyung watches him, a grin now spreading across his lips. He knows he has the upper hand right now, and he clearly enjoys it.

“If you don’t feed him, he’s just going to dry out completely,” the friend intervenes, sitting down on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. His voice is flat, but there’s a hint of annoyance that Jimin picks up on. “Then you’ll have wasted your money, your time and mine. Oh, and your precious venom, obviously. That’s if he doesn't go feral right before desiccating. Then I’ll be coming over to find your head ripped off or whatever’s left of you, because those chains won’t hold back a feral Park Jimin.”

“You’re honestly no fun, hyung, it’s not like it’s my first time dealing with a source,” Taehyung says, eyes still locked on Jimin.

“Sure, but it’s your first time keeping one in your home, and your first time dealing personally with someone who’s existed since before we even started holding records of vampires.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Hoseok-hyung has been against this ever since I brought it up, he’s convinced I’ll get myself killed.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at him — his friend’s survival instinct is stronger than his, that much is obvious.

But Taehyung’s grin just widens, as if the idea excites him.

“But I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he adds smoothly, bringing the cup closer to Jimin — this close, the scent is becoming unbearable. “I think we could even have a lot of fun together.”

He tilts his head, a gesture that could almost look sweet and innocent if it weren’t coming from a human who, by all means, seems to lack humanity.

Jimin can’t quite figure out if it’s a façade or not.

He stares back at him. God, he would make a good vampire, he realises.

It’s not just because Taehyung is objectively one of the most handsome humans he’s ever met — no, it’s the arrogance, the recklessness… He likes to play with death, he can tell, and he’s only just met him. Clear signs of someone completely detached from the reality of mere mortals, just like Jimin was as a human, it’s like looking into a mirror.

Before his reality was shattered into a million pieces and his sire tore his mortality away, tainting his soul beyond salvation.

He’s starting to understand what his sire was thinking when he met him, all those centuries ago.

Fuck.

“What do you say, Jimin-ssi?”

Jimin lifts his gaze, red eyes locking with Taehyung’s. That infuriating cocky grin still adorns his lips. Jimin wishes he could wipe it off, but instead, he lets his expression shift slowly, letting go of the aggression he’s been displaying since the man stepped into the room.

He doesn’t have to say anything, humans don’t ever realise who they’re dealing with, who they’re playing with. They usually realise they’ve stepped too close to the edge when it’s too late — they’re already falling by then.

The hunger still burns in his eyes, but he softens his expression, body relaxing as much as he can, ignoring as much as he can the searing pain of the silver biting in his skin as he shifts a little.

He leans forward just slightly, barely an inch, lips parting to take in the scent of the blood deeper in his lungs. He needs to drink, but he needs to play this right if he wants to make it out of here.

It’s humiliating.

“Fun,” he echoes, eyes still locked with Taehyung’s. “You consider this fun? Risking your life over venom?”

Taehyung hums. “I love a good challenge.”

He tilts his head, controlled despite his body screaming at him to reach for the blood, whichever way he can. “I do, too.”

A beat of silence — neither of them says anything, but Jimin can see something shift in Taehyung’s eyes, can feel a different kind of tension filling the air between them. He sees the way his eyes flick to his fangs for just a second. He leans forward, still not within Jimin’s reach, but close enough that both the blood in the cup and Taehyung’s scent completely engulf him. He needs it — which one, though, he doesn’t know. He can feel the way his self-control is slowly slipping out of his grasp —hunger clawing at it— not quite down the path of going feral, but down something dark, something he hasn’t felt in decades.

“So, do you want to play, Taehyung-ssi?” he breathes out. “Because I love a good game, but it doesn’t seem too fair right now…” He pretends to pull at his shackles weakly. “Does it?”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Hoseok shift on the couch, leaning forward, eyebrows knitted together, shoulders tense. Jimin keeps his attention on Taehyung, waits for him to give in. But within the blink of an eye, Taehyung leans back, scoffing softly — whatever crack in his composure mended already.

So close.

“You’re good at this.”

You have no idea, he thinks to himself.

“But like I said, it isn’t my first time dealing with a source,” he continues. “We’ll have fun, Jimin-ssi, but we’ll do so my way.”

Before Jimin can react, Taehyung grabs his face with one hand, fingers digging into his cheeks in a bruising grip.

His voice drops as he speaks, face just an inch away from the vampire’s. “I may be reckless, but I’m not stupid.” Jimin can feel his breath over his lips, can taste his scent on the tip of his tongue. “Now drink, before I change my mind and let you rot, venom be damned.”

His vision whites out with red the moment blood touches his lips, a guttural, primal sound tearing from the back of his throat as blood floods all his senses. It feels like his nerves are on fire, his body finally getting what he’s been craving during two weeks of pure torture.

Taehyung doesn’t pull away. He watches with rapt attention, fingers still locked around Jimin’s jaw in an iron grip. He throws the cup to the side, already empty. It isn’t close to being enough, but Jimin can already feel the stiffness in his muscles fading — better than nothing.

He looks into Taehyung’s eyes again, feels his thumb brush against his cheekbone, running over the darkened veins that spread like a spider web around his eyes. There’s a look in Taehyung’s eyes… Fascination?

Jimin snarls, but it only makes the other laugh, he doesn’t feel in the least bit threatened.

“Usually you say thank you after a meal, you know.”

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi,” he spits out with all the venom he can muster.

He’s still weak, all this did was stop him from drying out and maybe going feral. They do have experience with sources, but it can’t be any source, he realises. Young vampires are easy to control, easy to overpower, even for humans — some even willingly become sources so hunters stop hunting them. But to keep someone like him down...

“I could have let you go feral, you know, or desiccate, depending on which one would have happened faster.”

Jimin only blinks back at him in response.

“But where would the fun be in that?” he adds, letting go of his face.

He steps away, making his way back to Hoseok, who’s still staring at Jimin with a frown. Taehyung doesn’t take his eyes off him — there’s still something in them, something different from the calculated cockiness, it’s a mix of fascination and something else, but Jimin can’t put his finger on what it is. People like him are too good at masking their real emotions, he knows that better than anyone.

Or maybe he can tell, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, not when it would mean admitting it to himself, too.

His senses are coming back to him, and with that, Taehyung’s scent is becoming more and more potent — almost suffocating.

He swipes his tongue over his lips, catching a stray drop of blood.

“Do you have a death wish, Taehyung-ssi?” he asks with a tilt of his head. “Do you not care about your life?”

Taehyung’s eyes gleam with morbid amusement. “Oh no, I care,” he says, reaching for the bag Hoseok brought. “But who doesn’t like a little danger? Especially when it’s so… beautiful.”

Jimin hums, leaning back against the wall. He watches him open the bag — another set of needles and vials, but this time all empty.

He knows what those are for.

What he isn’t expecting him to pull out next, though, is a muzzle. Taehyung dangles it from the tip of his fingers.

“You have two options here,” he says, walking across the room. “Either I inject you with another round of the hunters’ tranquiliser, or you let me put this on you.”

He stops in front of Jimin, head cocked to the side. “What do you say?”

The mention of the tranquiliser is enough to make Jimin flinch with a snarl,  shackles clanking and silver burning into his skin under the sudden movement. He’s barely recovered some semblance of control of his body — there’s no way he’s letting them give him another dose so soon.

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “Figured. Muzzle it is,” he says, crouching down. “If you try anything, hyung is ready with a dose of tranquiliser, and he won’t hesitate to use it. But I think we’d both rather not use that shit.”

Jimin glances at Hoseok and sees him standing up, a loaded syringe in his right hand. He stays still, glaring at Taehyung instead. He can’t stop the growl that rumbles at the back of his throat when he feels the cold leather of the muzzle against his skin. He can almost feel Taehyung’s short laugh, his body nearly touching Jimin’s as he fastens the muzzle around his face.

So close and yet he can’t do anything.

This doesn’t restrain him in any way, he realises. He expected it to be drenched in holy water or have some silver lined into it, but no. No, it’s yet again another game.

Control.

“Good, see, we can play nice with each other,” Taehyung says as he leans back.

Jimin tests how much movement is allowed by the muzzle — enough to speak, but barely. “Easy to say when you’re not the one drugged and chained to a wall.”

Taehyung just hums with a smile in response, walking back to the table while Hoseok sits back down, tranquiliser still in hand, eyes set on Jimin. He may disagree with Taehyung, but even so, he won’t stop him. Taehyung grabs a vial and a syringe — needle much thinner than those for the tranquiliser. He sets them on a small tray Jimin hadn’t noticed until now and walks back to him, setting it down carefully on the floor.

“Let’s make this easy on both of us, hm?” he says, reaching up to tilt Jimin’s head to the side. “If you stay still, it will be over before you know it.”

Jimin’s jaw tightens under the muzzle, but he lets himself be moved — an illusion of compliance, one he has no choice but to bend to.

“And it won’t hurt as much,” he adds, grabbing the syringe.

“Maybe if you just asked…”

“Aren’t I?”

Jimin huffs. “It seems like we have a different definition of permission and consent.”

Taehyung grins at him. “Would you willingly give your venom if I asked?”

“We’ll never know, will we?”

Taehyung shrugs, fingers running over Jimin’s throat. He groans through gritted teeth when he feels the fingers brush over the raw, angry burn that circles his neck — a reminder of the collar the hunters trapped him in. Every muscle in his body is pulled taut, instincts screaming at him to run, but he fights against them, instead staying still as he watches the way Taehyung’s eyes follow his fingers as he feels for his venom gland — eyebrows pulled together, lips pressed into a thin line as he focuses on what his fingers feel.

Clinical.

He finds it right under his jaw, fingers pressing into it. A shiver runs down Jimin’s spine — it’s a sensitive spot, one Taehyung has no place touching, and yet…

A soft hiss escapes him as he feels the needle pierce his skin, fangs digging into his lower lip. It feels wrong, so wrong.

The vial starts to fill — the venom iridescent black. Taehyung’s expression shifts, a smile stretching his lips.

“Don’t push it, Taehyung, you’ve barely fed him any blood,” intervenes Hoseok. “There’s no point in extracting more than that right now, and you know it.”

Taehyung looks over his shoulder at his friend, and to Jimin’s surprise, actually stops, slowly pulling the needle out, careful not to waste a drop.

The vial is half-full.

Jimin feels his body release all the tension it has been holding, slumping against the wall. He tastes blood in his mouth — his. He runs his tongue across his lips, nose crinkling.

He needs more.

Hoseok suddenly steps forward, snatching the vial from Taehyung’s hands with a frown — not at the venom, but at Taehyung, before turning his attention to Jimin.

“He’s not a plaything,” he says, meeting Jimin’s eyes for a second.

Pity?

No. Compassion.

Odd. Rare for a human.

“You and your soft spot for vampires, hyung…” Taehyung sighs, shaking his head. Jimin doesn’t miss the way the corner of his lips twitches. “I wonder what Yoongi would say if he saw you so worried for another vampire.”

The name feels like a slap in Jimin’s face. The sudden pain that radiates through his chest is different, squeezing his heart with guilt and regret — loss.

He hasn’t heard that name in over a century.

He watches the way Hoseok’s fingers tighten around the vial, his eyes meeting Jimin’s again.

“How do you know him?” he asks, eyes flickering between Taehyung and Hoseok.

Taehyung grins. “Oh, you know Min Yoongi?”

He can’t help the growl that escapes him, then. “I asked how do you know him?”

“Guess you could say he’s one of ours,” replies Taehyung, grabbing the tray before standing up. He snatches the vial of venom back from Hoseok before making his way to the couch.

Jimin frowns. “One of yours? What the fuck-”

“He’s been with you for how long now, hyung? Three years?”

Jimin’s attention shifts to Hoseok again — he looks frustrated, if not murderous. Clearly, this isn’t something Jimin should have found out.

“You’ve had him chained up like this for three fucking years?” he snarls. He lunges, silver burning into his skin as the chains jerk.

Hoseok doesn’t even flinch. He sighs, shaking his head. “He isn’t a source anymore.”

Another slap in the face. He falls silent, arms falling back to his sides as he falls back against the wall — stunned. This can’t be.

“For vampires that have lived for centuries, one would think that you’d be harder to catch, but look at you…” adds Taehyung with a mocking huff, making his way to the door. “And so dramatic, too.”

“Taehyung,” Hoseok says under his breath — it sounds like a warning, one that Taehyung seems to take.

“Whatever,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I got what I wanted.”

He glances at Jimin, his eyes gleaming with something Jimin can’t identify — not cruel, but not soft either. He really is unreadable for a human. Even his heartbeat is steady, not betraying a single emotion.

“Since you behaved so well, I’ll be back with more blood in a couple hours,” he adds before leaving the room.

Jimin frowns, staring at the closed door, before looking back at Hoseok. He’s still standing in front of him, lower lip pulled between his teeth. He seems to be hesitating about something. Jimin can hear it in the way his heart stutters every few milliseconds.

“You have no reason to believe me, but Yoongi was acquired under… different circumstances,” he finally seems to settle on saying. He crouches down, elbows resting on his knees as he meets Jimin’s gaze.

“Different circumstances? You bought him at an auction, seems pretty clear to me.”

Hoseok sighs. “Yes, but it wasn’t like you and Taehyung.”

“So you’re not a spoiled, rich brat who likes to play with death?” he tackles, an eyebrow raised.

Hoseok snorts, shaking his head. “He isn’t that bad, once you get to know him,” he replies.

Jimin hates the fact that he can believe that, but Hoseok doesn’t need to know that detail.

“Really? Are you going to give me some tragic backstory to excuse his involvement in vampire trafficking? Because I don’t think anything would justify it.”

“Any human would tell you it isn’t all that different from the blood rings vampires run,” Hoseok replies matter-of-factly. “The ones you used to run.”

Jimin stiffens. Hoseok shouldn’t know about this, nobody knows about his involvement in blood rings, nobody except Yoongi and a few high-ranking vampires — most of whom are either dead or in hiding, sworn to secrecy.

“How does a human like you come across information like that?”

“I told you, Yoongi and I’s circumstances are different.”

Jimin stares at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Yoongi was turned fifty years after Jimin, and just like Jimin, his name has a certain reputation, both among vampires and humans, partly because of their shared history.

Min Yoongi would never submit to a human, or anyone for that matter, never. There is no way he would get caught without a fight. How is any of it different? It doesn’t add up.

Unless…

“You two are together,” he says, the pieces clicking together.

Hoseok’s eyes widen in surprise. “How…”

“Our circumstances are different,” he echoes, looking away.

Shame still burns hot in his chest. He doesn’t have many regrets, but Yoongi… Yoongi is an exception. His oldest companion, gone in the blink of an eye, never to be heard of again.

Not that Jimin ever tried to find him, he was too stubborn, too proud.

“Does he know about this?” he asks — he isn’t sure he wants to hear the answer, but he needs to.

Hoseok shakes his head. “He will once I get home, though. He knew Taehyung was looking into acquiring a… special source. But we only found out it was you at the auction. They were careful to hide your identity until the last minute, nobody even knew you had been captured by hunters.”

Jimin sighs, eyes falling back on Hoseok. How odd that Yoongi would fall for a human… especially after what happened to them all those years ago.

“I wish I could take that off you, but I feel like you’ll tear into Taehyung’s throat the first chance you get if I do,” he adds, nodding at his face — the muzzle.

Jimin scoffs. “Just give me a couple days and I will.”

“He really isn’t that bad,” Hoseok repeats. “Just… spoiled, and acting out.”

“I can tell.”

It hits too close to home, if he’s honest.

“Ask him what he did with his previous sources.”

Jimin frowns. “Why?”

“Just… Ask him. You can tell me what he tells you next time. I’ll tell you if he told you the truth or not.”

“You’re oddly confident there will be a next time.”

“If you feed the same way Yoongi does… There will have to be. The blood Taehyung’s feeding you will never be enough.”

Jimin can’t hide his surprise, eyes widening. Yoongi trusted this human that much? Not even vampires outside of their coven knew about it, and yet here’s Hoseok, a human, entrusted with such details. What happened over the past century?

Hoseok straightens up, stretching his legs as he smiles at Jimin. It’s sad, understanding. He knows more than he’s saying.

Jimin looks away, teeth clenched. He can’t stand the idea that Yoongi would have trusted a human with this much information — private information.

Taboo.

He knows it makes him a hypocrite, but a century changed him, too, he supposes. Or made him revert to old beliefs, would be more accurate — ones that told him humans weren’t to be trusted.

He watches Hoseok make his way to the door, but he pauses, hand hovering over the handle, and looks back at Jimin.

“Try to rest,” he says. “You’ll need it.”

And then he’s gone. The door shuts quietly behind him, silence shrouding the room.

Jimin stares at where Hoseok stood, a heavy sigh escaping him. His wrists and ankles still throb with pain, the burn radiating through his limbs. The blood helped, but only for a moment — it wasn’t enough, certainly not to restore his strength, but not even to help his body heal even a little bit.

Hoseok is right, whatever Taehyung feeds him won’t ever be enough.

He shifts in his spot, gaze moving to the bed, before closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the wall with a soft thud.

He’s hurt, but even more than that, he’s confused.

If Hoseok is telling the truth, and nothing indicates he isn’t, then Yoongi has found a way to make peace with humans — or at least with some of them. Yoongi, who left the day Jimin brought back a human to their estate, going on and on about how maybe they were mistaken, maybe humans had evolved and were worth believing in.

A mistake.

His trust in humans, as fleeting as it was, is now buried deep underneath decades of blood, betrayal and dead bodies.

He opens his eyes again, hearing a door somewhere beneath him open and close, then the roaring of an engine.

He can feel the warmth in his veins fading, cold creeping back into his body. He clenches his fists, nails digging into the palm of his hands — not a single drop of blood. He swears under his breath.

If playing along with whatever Taehyung’s game is, is what gets him out of here, then so be it.

Chapter Text

Jimin doesn’t ask. Hoseok’s words linger at the back of his mind, but he keeps those thoughts buried deep. He doesn’t ask Taehyung the next time he comes in to feed him, nor the next, or the time after that. He just sits against the wall in silence, letting him get near him and slide a straw through the muzzle’s narrow slits to feed him blood.

His body feels stiff, partly from the lack of proper feeding, but also from the uncomfortable position he’s been in ever since he woke up in this godforsaken room.

He doesn’t say a word about how the human blood Taehyung feeds him won’t ever be enough — it’s not like he wants Jimin to regain full control and strength of his body anyway. For his own safety, he needs Jimin weak enough that he can’t get the upper hand were he to free himself. He usually comes in once a day, sometimes twice. It’s enough to keep him from desiccating, but not enough for him to put up a fight.

Jimin watches, eyes sharp and narrowed in suspicion, and follows Taehyung’s every move. He waits for the inevitable, for the sting of a needle, but it never comes — Taehyung doesn’t try to extract more venom, despite this being the very reason he acquired Jimin in the first place.

It leaves a weird, unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He notices, though, the lingering gaze on his throat, the scent that lingers in the human’s blood — metallic, sickeningly sweet, and a little like death. It taints the previously warm scent of his blood.

The telltale sign of vampire venom running through a human’s veins.

Every venom is different. The older vampires become, the better they control its potency — its effects, whether physical or psychological. When forcefully extracted, however, the venom changes, unpredictable and unstable. The effects are no longer under the vampire’s control, and certainly not under a human’s.

He wonders, nose scrunching up slightly as Taehyung leans towards him with yet another cup of human blood, what his venom does to him. He parts his lips, fangs throbbing, yearning to bite into something, someone. Taehyung is careful, but Jimin notices the way his eyes linger on his mouth, even if for a second. But what catches his attention even more is the tremor in his hands — gone within the blink of an eye, but there, impossible for Jimin to miss.

He wonders why he hasn’t tried extracting more.

“So,” he starts, tongue swiping over his lips after letting go of the straw. The blood tastes bland, and the more he drinks it, the more he craves something else. “Is it what you expected?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows knit together, putting the cup down on the floor.

“I can smell it on you, you know,” he adds. “My venom.”

Taehyung hums, leaning back with a tilt of his head — something flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just looks at him, and Jimin sees it again — a hint of fascination, curiosity. It’s odd, misplaced in a situation like theirs, and he knows he shouldn’t try to understand it. From the very beginning, Taehyung hasn’t made any sense to him.

He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like being unable to see through him, through whatever mask he’s wearing.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” Taehyung ends up replying.

“Hard not to when you reek of it,” Jimin lets out a soft scoff.

And maybe it’s an exaggeration, because the scent is faint, which means it’s probably been around twelve hours since Taehyung used it last, but it’s unsettling to smell his venom in someone else when he didn’t bite them — it doesn’t feel right.

Taehyung laughs, now sitting on the floor, legs crossed, hands clasped over them. “Does it bother you? You know that’s why you’re here, Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin can feel a growl making its way up his throat, but he swallows it down before the other can hear it.

“Is it what you expected?” he asks again. “Is my venom everything you dreamt of?”

Taehyung’s reaction, as imperceptible as it may be to the human eye, doesn’t escape Jimin — the subtle clench of his jaw, nails digging into his hands ever so slightly, eyes looking away for a second. Something did happen, something Taehyung clearly wasn’t expecting.

“Tell me,” he nags on, leaning forward, ignoring the burn of silver into his skin — he’s grown used to it by now. “Was it more than you bargained for? Were you out of it this whole time?”

He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his lips when Taehyung stands up all of a sudden, frustration clear as day on his face. He can tell he’s getting under his skin.

“You seemed so confident, but you don’t know what this can do to you,” he continues, watching Taehyung pace across the room. “What was it? Euphoria? Hallucinations?”

He watches the way Taehyung runs his hands in his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

“Or was it something worse? Did it feel like you were going to die? Couldn’t breathe?”

“Shut up,” Taehyung hisses through gritted teeth.

“Aw, sweetheart, it’s ok, everybody has a bad trip once in a while,” he coos.

Before he knows it, Taehyung is crowding him, kneeling on top of him, one hand wrapped around his throat and pushing him against the wall, the other trapping his hands between them in an iron grip. He has to swallow down the embarrassing sound of surprise that almost escapes him, fangs biting into his lower lip to silence it.

This, he didn’t expect.

He locks eyes with him, breath stuck in his throat. Taehyung’s eyes are dark, pupils blown unnaturally wide.

Not a bad trip.

Fuck.

It’s rare, but it happens sometimes — venom can, in very rare cases, increase the consumer’s speed and strength. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough to take Jimin by surprise. He never would have expected this to be a side effect Taehyung would experience.

He doesn’t move.

Not because of the restraints or the weight of Taehyung’s hand on his throat — no, it’s what he finds in his eyes that makes him freeze, unable to look away.

Not anger.

Not fear.

Want.

Pure, unadulterated want — but warped, tainted.

This can’t be the result of just one or two doses, he quickly realises. It’s been clear from the beginning that Taehyung is familiar with sources, he knows not to overconsume vampire venom. He must know that the older a vampire is, the stronger it is, and yet…

Jimin can feel the pull, the way it pulses and tugs between them, can feel the way Taehyung’s blood sings to him, how his venom has taken root in him…

“How much did you take?” he says, voice barely coming above a whisper.

Taehyung doesn’t answer right away, only stares right back at him, breathing short and staggered, heart pumping erratically. He feels the way his fingers tighten around his throat, digging into the burn that still hasn’t healed — he swallows hard, instincts screaming at him to do something, anything. In his current state, he isn’t sure there’s anything he can do, though. He can’t even free his wrists from his grip, not when the venom is enhancing Taehyung’s strength like this.

“Does it matter?” he finally says.

Jimin frowns. “Do you realise what it’s doing to you?”

Taehyung hums, eyes flickering down to Jimin’s mouth — lips tainted red with blood, a tiny drop hanging over the curve of his lower lip where he bit himself. “It’s not my first time using venom.”

But it’s your first time using mine, Jimin thinks. He can feel the heat radiating off Taehyung’s body, close, too close.

“Get off me,” he hisses.

But even as he tries to move, tries to throw Taehyung off in whatever limited capacity he has, the other doesn’t budge. No, instead, he gets closer, body shifting on top of him, forehead pressing against Jimin’s, a shaky breath escaping his parted lips.

“You’re burning up.”

A beat of silence.

“I know.”

They stay like this for a minute, if not less, but it’s enough for Jimin to notice their breathing synchronising, Taehyung’s heartbeat slowing down, the direct touch of their skin seemingly grounding — it terrifies him how fast it’s happening.

He can feel his heart skip a beat when Taehyung pulls back and meets his eyes again — red, all he can see is the thin ring of red that now taints Taehyung’s amber eyes, circling pupils that have shrunk back to a more natural size.

No.

He had only seen this in a human once in his life.

When he had looked at his own reflection in the mirror centuries ago.

He doesn’t think Taehyung understands what’s happening to him. The pull a human feels towards a vampire after experiencing a bite — or in this case, using the venom as a drug — is beyond a human mind’s comprehension, no amount of research has ever gotten close to explaining how it changes everything. Nothing can explain the way venom can twist someone’s mind, the way it corrupts and eats away at the senses, survival instinct subdued, replaced by a craving so deep only a vampire can understand.

A craving only a vampire can satisfy.

The look in Taehyung’s eyes is raw — gone is the usual arrogance, the mask he’s been wearing from the very first day.

He finally lets go, pushing himself off Jimin and taking a few steps back, hands shaking again.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “I shouldn’t ha-”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Jimin cuts in with a scoff.

Taehyung just stares at him. He looks lost. This is the first time Jimin sees something unmistakably human in him — fragile, vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” he whispers to himself, running a shaky hand through his hair, turning away. “It’ll wear off soon, it always does.”

Jimin just leans back against the wall, silent. Taehyung doesn’t sound convinced, and Jimin already knows — he will come back asking for more. The venom has already taken root too deeply, corrupting both body and soul. Taehyung might think his body craves it, he might think he can fight it off like he maybe did in the past with weaker venoms, but it isn’t that simple. His mind won’t let him rest until he gets his next fix. Soon, a syringe won’t be enough.

Taehyung is already running out of time, but he doesn’t know it. He won’t realise until it’s already too late.

He leaves without another glance at Jimin, empty cup abandoned on the floor.

Taehyung doesn’t come back for the rest of the day. The room grows dark as the sun sets, Jimin watching the last rays of sunlight disappear across the floor.

He closes his eyes, head tilted back against the wall. The hunger is back, a dull, but persistent ache. It isn’t the violent kind of hunger yet — it slowly eats away at him, hidden right beneath the surface, not all-consuming yet, but soon…

Just like Taehyung’s venom addiction.

All Jimin can see when he closes his eyes is red. The crimson of blood he craves, but even more so, the red of Taehyung’s eyes. An irreversible side-effect of the overconsumption of vampire venom — rare, practically unknown to those who haven’t witnessed it firsthand.

Foolish.

But exactly what Jimin needs. The more Taehyung uses his venom, the more prone to mistakes he will be, and more likely to lose control in his obsession to get another hit. Jimin just needs him to slip up, just once.

He tries not to think about how the bond Taehyung unknowingly created might get in the way of his freedom, the same way it had stopped his sire from sucking him dry of all his blood back then.

When the door creaks open again, Jimin barely has any strength left to open his eyes. The warmth from his last feed two days ago finally faded during the night, leaving his body stiff and cold — muscles locked tight and joints aching. He isn’t desiccating quite yet, but he can feel it slowly crawling under his skin, even stronger than the hunger that has been gnawing at him.

“Shit.”

His vision sharpens. Hoseok is already kneeling in front of him, a fresh cup of blood next to the empty one. He looks at him with a deep frown.

“He should have at least fed you this morning.”

Jimin’s tongue feels heavy as he speaks. “You’re a little late with the room service, Hoseok-ssi,” he says, voice low and raspy.

Hoseok shakes his head, leaning closer.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

Jimin doesn’t even have the strength in him to scoff. “I can barely keep my eyes open. What do you think?” Even saying those few words leaves him winded — breathless in a way he hasn’t experienced since turning.

It scares him.

He can see hesitation in Hoseok’s eyes — apprehension — but he’s quick to push it aside, steady hands reaching around his head to unbuckle the straps, the leather falling off his face.

Hoseok leans back, muzzle in one hand, eyes scanning over Jimin’s face — searching, what for, Jimin isn’t sure, he can’t focus anymore.

“Better?”

Jimin works his jaw, a faint pop cracking in the silence. He can feel the ghost of leather digging into his face, he wonders if it left marks behind. He swallows, throat dry like sandpaper, and nods. Hoseok’s frown softens, but the concern in his gaze doesn’t fade away. It still throws Jimin off balance, seeing a human look so worried about someone like him, about a vampire. It doesn’t feel right, and yet, he can tell it’s genuine.

He watches him put the muzzle down and grab the cup of blood. With his other hand, he pulls something out of his pocket — a glass vial. Jimin frowns, stomach twisting in dread.

“You’re starting to desiccate, aren’t you?”

Jimin just stares at him, teeth clenched. He’s sure his appearance must be giving it away, anyway.

“This should help,” he continues, thumbing the vial open.

The scent hits Jimin immediately — familiar, too familiar.

Yoongi’s blood.

His breath catches, wide eyes snapping to Hoseok in disbelief. But the other doesn’t look at him, focused entirely on carefully pouring the vampire’s blood into the cup, making sure not a single drop goes to waste as he mixes it in with the human blood. Jimin isn’t sure what to think, but he can’t look away, eyes turning red, fangs elongating instinctively — the ache in his gums is strong, he doesn’t even realise he’s straining against his shackles, can’t feel the pain of the silver burning into his skin, the hunger taking over now that what he needs is right in front of him.

Hoseok looks at him. “You recognise it, huh?”

Jimin’s only answer is a hungry snarl, he knows that if it weren’t for the restraints, he would have already snapped the other in half just to get his hands onto the blood. Every cell in his body is screaming for it.

“Easy,” Hoseok says, inching closer. “You don’t want to waste it.”

He feels like he’s going to lose his mind, can feel the way his fangs have extended beyond what they usually do as hunger roars under his skin. The scent is overwhelming, throwing him into a spin because it isn’t just any vampire’s blood, it’s Yoongi’s out of all people — it’s a scent he hasn’t caught in over a century, certain he would never smell it again as long as he lived.

It takes every last bit of his self-control to lean back against the wall, nails digging into his palms as he curls his hands into fists. Hoseok follows his movement with watchful eyes before leaning forward, a steady hand lifting the cup to Jimin’s lips.

The moment blood touches his lips, Jimin moans.

Warmth rushes through him, life clawing its way back through his veins like wildfire. The burn in his throat subsides, the ache in his bones ebbing away, even if only a little, as he swallows mouthful after mouthful.

Another day, and he probably would have gone feral at the scent of vampire blood, he realises belatedly.

When Hoseok pulls away, cup empty, he follows as far as he can, but the heat of silver burning into his skin brings him back to reality in a sharp shock of pain. He slumps forward, hair falling into his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He still feels sluggish, but at least it doesn’t feel like he is a breath away from drying out. The hunger is still there, but it’s soothed, if only for a day or two.

He slowly straightens up, eyes locking with Hoseok.

“Does he know now?” he asks as the other puts the cup down, sitting on the floor to face Jimin.

He nods. “You know him, he wouldn’t just give his blood without knowing the reason.”

He does know him, which is why he doesn’t understand.

“Are you always this sceptical of other people? Yoongi said it wasn’t easy to win your trust, even when you were younger, but…”

Jimin frowns. “He’s one to talk,” he cuts in.

Images of his last talk with the other vampire, of their argument, flash in his mind — the snarls, the angry red gleaming in their eyes as they stared each other down… Yoongi walking away, telling him he was digging his own grave and would only have himself to blame. His trust isn’t easy to gain, and yet he had been the one to fall for a human’s lies, a pretty face and a silver tongue.

Hoseok sighs, a small smile curling at the corner of his lips. He has the muzzle in his hands, fingers playing with one of the leather straps. “It’s not my place to say, but just so you know, he regrets leaving. He’s told me so more than once.”

“And you believe him?” he retorts with a roll of his eyes.

“I do,” the human replies. “He’s told me things he had no reason to tell me, things that would probably make most people turn their back on anyone… If he tells me he regrets leaving you, I know he means it.”

Jimin only blankly stares in response. He can see the sincerity in the other’s eyes, can hear the steadiness of his heartbeat, but still, he wonders what made Yoongi change his mind about humans when he used to be so adamant about his distrust — just like Jimin.

Or maybe it isn’t humans, maybe it’s Hoseok only.

“As much as you may not trust me, please believe me when I say Yoongi wanted to give his blood.”

“And then what?” Jimin asks with a tilt of the head. “I’m still chained in here.” Silver clinks as he lifts his hands and moves his legs. “You clearly have no plans on letting me go, and Yoongi isn’t here either.”

Hoseok doesn’t look away, but Jimin sees the shift in his eyes.

Worry.

“I think you know why neither of us will intervene further than this.”

Jimin feels the ghost of a hand around his throat, long fingers digging into his sensitive skin.

“Taehyung,” he simply says.

Hoseok nods. “I don’t know what your venom is doing to him, but I’ve never seen him in this state.”

“Because you humans don’t understand what consuming our venom actually does to you,” he says with an exasperated scoff, his eyes flashing red for a second. “You have fun with fledgling venom, I’m sure it gives you a nice little high, makes you feel good, but that’s because they’re young.”

“Yoongi’s bitten me before, I’ve never reacted to his venom the way Taehyung is reacting to yours,” Hoseok retorts, eyebrows knitting together.

“Yes, because he bit you.”

His frown deepens. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Jimin shakes his head. “We control our venom, we decide what it does to our prey.” He can see the confusion in the other’s eyes, can see he’s not getting it. Humans really do love playing with fire, arrogant enough to think they won’t get burnt. “Yoongi decided that you would feel good when he bit you, that’s why you’ve never experienced what Taehyung is going through.”

“So… you’re the reason why Taehyung is in this state?”

Jimin can’t stop the snort that leaves him when he hears the accusatory tone in the other’s voice. “No, he is the reason why he’s in whatever state he is in right now. The moment a vampire’s venom is extracted, we lose control over its effects.”

Hoseok’s frown is quickly replaced by a look of surprise, wide-eyed, mouth open, only to close it when he can’t quite find his words.

“He just…” he tries, but cuts himself off, looking over his shoulder at the closed door before meeting Jimin’s eyes again. “I’ve never seen him in this state before. I can tell he isn’t sleeping, not much at least. When I ask him if he’s okay, he brushes me off, says he’s fine, but I can tell he isn’t.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything, only stares back at Hoseok. What’s there to say, anyway? If he’s looking for reassurance that his friend will be fine, he won’t get any from him. There’s no telling how the situation will evolve.

“Taehyung is the picture of control, has always been, but I can tell he’s losing it. You’ve been here for barely over a week.”

Jimin hums, thinking back on how Taehyung had whispered to himself that he’d be fine, that it would wear off eventually. He doesn’t want to face reality, doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s just a ticking time bomb.

Jimin isn’t quite sure what Taehyung losing control will actually look like, nor how long it will take before it happens. He remembers what it was like when he lost it, all those centuries ago, but… He doesn’t think he even wishes that upon the other.

“Is there a way to stop it? Reverse the effects?” Hoseok asks.

Jimin wants to laugh, it’s cruel, but he can’t quite find it in his heart to feel sorry. “No,” he says with a shake of his head, squashing the tiny flicker of hope in the other’s eyes.

Hoseok falls silent, and for the first time since he’s met him, Jimin sees a new emotion shining in his eyes, hears it in the way his heart stutters — fear. For the first time, Hoseok is scared, but not of Jimin. He’s scared for Taehyung.

Suddenly, he stands up, gathering the empty cups. “I need to speak to Yoongi, he’ll know what to do, he’s-”

“Yoongi has never seen this happen before, he would be of no help to you,” Jimin interrupts. “You know that’s why you’re not letting me go.”

“There’s got to be something we can do!” he yells as he turns around, glaring at Jimin.

The vampire cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowing — cobalt blue turning to a mix of black and bright red. “We don’t have to do anything. He brought this upon himself the moment he decided to buy me.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with Hoseok’s despair.

“You’re probably better off not coming back here, Hoseok-ssi,” he says. “Not if you care about your life.”

He watches the war waging behind Hoseok’s eyes, watches the way he looks at Jimin, as if searching for something in his eyes. He won’t find what he’s looking for, though. Jimin himself isn’t sure what he’ll do the next time he sees Taehyung, which in itself terrifies him. His sire had run him to the brink of insanity on purpose, had revelled in the way Jimin unravelled in his despair for another bite, for the burn of his venom, only to be forced to turn him when he had realised the bond would kill him in return if he got rid of him.

That bond had killed him, in the end, to nobody’s chagrin.

Jimin, no matter his contempt for humans, doesn’t think he could do what his sire did, not when he knows what that would mean for himself.

“He needs someone to look after him, I know him, and while you may hate his guts, I know deep down he doesn’t deserve this.”

“You don’t know this version of him, and trust me, you don’t want to know him.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond right away, empty cups in his hands, ready to leave the room, but he can’t look away from Jimin. And Jimin understands. As much as he despises humans, he understands the bond between Hoseok and Taehyung — it’s the same that used to tie Yoongi and him together. Friendship running deep, deeper than blood. Hoseok would do anything for Taehyung.

“I promised his mother I would look after him,” he finally says, voice barely coming above a whisper.

“So you only care about him because you promised his mother?” he knows, though, as he says it, that it isn’t true.

Hoseok shakes his head. “No, I would do it no matter what, he’s my dongsaeng. He shouldn’t go through this alone.”

Jimin sighs, head leaning against the wall behind him. “You might still lose him.”

Hoseok holds his gaze a while longer before looking away and bending down to pick up the discarded muzzle.

“At least I’ll have done everything I can to help.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Hoseok-ssi,” Jimin replies, closing his eyes.

He hears the human leave the room without another word, the door closing softly behind him. He spreads his fingers, feels the hardwood floor beneath them, before curling them into fists, nails digging into his skin — this time drawing blood. It feels weird to have this much control over his body again, even though he knows it won’t last long. Unless Hoseok comes back with another vial of Yoongi’s blood soon, his body will go back to eating itself alive, rotting from deep within.

The room grows cold again, or maybe it’s Jimin’s body that does, as another two days go by without a single visit from either humans — he isn’t quite sure anymore. He watches the sun rise and set across the floorboard, ears pricking up at any sign of life in the house. He hears a car, once. He guesses it must have been Hoseok coming to check on Taehyung, but he can’t tell for certain, can’t quite distinguish the voices when he hears people talking.

He knew Yoongi’s blood wouldn’t last him long, not in such a small quantity, but now he wonders if it hasn’t made it worse. The ache deep within his bones is just as bad as it was before — or maybe it’s the lack of movement that makes his body hurt like this. He does believe, however, that having a taste of vampire blood has made his craving worse, but also has made his body deteriorate faster.

He’s looking down at his hands, skin paper-thin and almost translucent, when his attention snaps to the door.

He feels him before he hears him, before the door even opens. The scent is what hits him first, still sickeningly sweet and like death. When he looks up, he sees red still taints Taehyung’s eyes, shadows beneath them dark like bruises. He wonders briefly what keeps him up at night, what haunts him when he closes his eyes. He watches as the human quietly makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him before heading for the couch, sitting down with a wince and setting down a sealed thermo cup on the table. The sun has begun to set, casting a warm light that frames Taehyung from behind. He’s stiff, back straight as a rod, shoulders tense.

The silence stretches between them, heavy and palpable.

Jimin just tilts his head, feels the painful strain on his body as he does, blue eyes gleaming in the dark as shadows engulf his side of the room, and waits. He knows how volatile the situation is, and as much as he wants to say something, wants to taunt the other, he knows better than to antagonise him right now. He can hear his heart beating faster than Jimin has gotten used to, too fast. The scent of his own venom still clings to Taehyung, confirming what he had suspected — he hasn’t been able to stop, not that Jimin expected him to. There’s still a subtle tremor to his hands, which Taehyung seems to try to hide by clasping them together, long fingers interwining in his lap.

Unlike the other day, tonight, Jimin doesn’t enjoy seeing the state of distress the other is in, no matter how much he tries to hide it. It’s too reminiscent of his own past, hits too close to home.

Everything about Taehyung hits too close to home.

“It’s killing me, isn’t it?”

Jimin almost flinches when Taehyung suddenly speaks. The last thing he expected was for him to realise what’s happening to him and to acknowledge it openly. They’ve locked eyes, and Jimin sees it then — resignation. This is the last reaction he expected from Taehyung, what with the way he had behaved until now.

“Yes,” he finally answers, voice raspy from disuse.

Taehyung hums. “I didn’t think I would feel like this,” he says, looking down at his hands. “It’s like something is eating me from the inside.”

Jimin knows the feeling all too well, feels it as they speak.

Taehyung stands up, making his way to Jimin in a few big strides. He crouches in front of him, elbows resting on his knees, hands still clasped together. He eyes his restraints, a frown knitting his eyebrows together as his attention lingers on his wrists. Jimin has stopped looking at them, can’t stand the sight of the skin burnt raw — he doesn’t even register the smell anymore, has gotten used to it. Taehyung’s eyes flicker to the rest of his body, finally settling on his face.

Jimin knows what he sees — sunken cheeks, pale, sickly skin, bruise-like dark circles… Jimin knows what vampires look like when they’re on the edge of drying out. His eyes widen when Taehyung reaches for the shackle around his right ankle, shaky fingers fumbling with the lock for a bit before finally getting it to open. Jimin hadn’t even noticed the key he was holding.

His eyes narrow as Taehyung moves to unlock the other one, their eyes meeting once the silver cuff falls to the ground with a sharp clang. The silence between them is charged with unspoken words. There’s something in the other’s eyes, his brows furrowed as if deep in thought — hesitation. He knows what he’s risking by undoing Jimin’s restraints, and yet he still does it.

Jimin looks down at his ankles, nose scrunching up at the sight of red, welted burns. He isn’t sure his skin will ever fully heal.

He wants to ask what the other is doing when he grabs wrists and both shackles come undone, but he doesn’t speak. Taehyung lingers as the cuffs fall to the floor with another clang, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. He slowly leans back, still crouched in front of Jimin, and looks up, staring right back into the vampire’s eyes.

Jimin can hear his frantic heartbeat, sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes. The air between them thickens, tension filling the space between them as they breathe, like a rubber band pulled taut.

Until it snaps.

Faster than Taehyung can react, Jimin is on top of him, pinning him to the floor with a hiss — fangs bared, eyes burning red. His fingers clench around his throat, nails digging into his skin.