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Jisoo can’t keep his hands off of him. They wander up and over the planes of Jun’s back, nails scratching downward as they explore his abs and grip his thighs. He mouths hungrily at Jun’s neck and chin, breathes hotly across his lips, sobs when Jun bounces a little quicker on his dick.
If Jun wasn’t—well, what he is—he might feel somewhat guilty for driving Jisoo to this state. It’s certainly possible that Jisoo is just easy, used to fucking random men and willing to stick his dick in anyone he can bring home, but even prudes and saints have little resistance after the first kiss. Not when that kiss is laced with the slow seep of Jun’s magic—thick and honey-sweet, slipping into the bloodstream, melting behind the tongue. It’s addictive. The more Jun feeds it through lips and breath and skin, the deeper it coils into the nerves, stoking want into need.
“Oh god,” Jisoo groans, tipping his head back until it connects roughly with the headboard. “Close,” he pants, “So… so close—"
He didn’t have to say it. Jun can feel it. The heat pulses from Jisoo’s skin and throbs through the air between them, curling into Jun’s chest like a second heartbeat. His arousal is loud—palpable, tangible, flavored with something real. Jun can hear Jisoo’s heart pounding in his ears.
And even though Jisoo’s pleasure equates to Jun’s very survival, there’s still a certain thrill to seeing how sensitive and responsive he is—how Jun’s fingertips alone can guide him anywhere he pleases. He’s laid out like temptation itself: sweat beads along the dip of his philtrum, his chest heaves, and he shivers when Jun runs his tongue along the striated muscles of his neck. Even if Jun didn’t need to make Jisoo fall apart, he can’t imagine wanting him less. If Jun had just been an average man in an average bar in Seoul, he still would have wanted to suck on the skin of his neck and ride his cock until Jisoo’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Jisoo—sweet, well-meaning, probably still thinking this is mutual—reaches for Jun’s cock, maybe hoping they’ll finish together. But Jun’s not ready. Not yet. He hasn’t fed in a week, and hunger’s got its claws in him deep.
He catches Jisoo’s wrists mid-motion, firm but unhurried, and redirects him. Guides those hands to grip his ass instead—fingers digging in instinctively. Jun leans in, lips brushing the shell of Jisoo’s ear. “Take what you need.”
And Jisoo does, planting his feet on the mattress and spreading Jun’s cheeks impossibly wider, as if Jun’s ass wasn’t already swallowing him with every thrust. “C’mon, c’mon,” Jun encourages, and Jisoo’s rhythm becomes more and more uncoordinated. A couple more thrusts are enough to send Jisoo over the edge.
The first wave hits immediately. It’s not orgasm—it’s sustenance. Jisoo’s pleasure pours into him like hot syrup through a funnel. Jun’s whole body pulses with it—first in his chest, then radiating through his limbs in warm, electric bursts. His amber-lit eyes flutter half-shut, lips parted around a moan he doesn’t even release.
“Fuck,” Jisoo wheezes into Jun’s hair, rocking his hips as he empties into the condom. Jun stays with him for a few slow thrusts, circling his hips, dick still painfully hard and swollen between them, before easing off Jisoo’s lap entirely. It’s easier to keep him pliant while he’s still slow and sex-dumb.
The lube is still within easy reach, and after grabbing it, Jun plants a few kisses to the corner of Jisoo’s mouth. The kisses are slow and molten, his magic seeping in again—more of that sweet venom that curls behind the tongue and lights every nerve it touches. Jisoo trembles beneath him.
He hooks his hands under Jisoo’s knees and pulls, dragging him down to the middle of the bed. “You’re good for another round, yeah?” Jun doesn’t wait for an answer. He doesn’t really expect Jisoo to object—at least not enough to stop him.
Jisoo nods weakly, still too soon since his orgasm to be fully present, and allows Jun to tip his head back and meet his mouth with another kiss. It’s deep, searching, and laced with something like devotion. The magic is potent—aphrodisiacal, addictive—but never absolute. It clouds the mind, floods the body with want, but it doesn’t erase the will. If the pleasure isn’t real, if the desire isn’t true, then Jun can’t feed. That’s the rule. That’s the curse.
Jisoo isn’t immune—Jun can feel the tremors, the flushed heat, the way his body arches into every touch—but he’s not lost in it either. He’s riding it. Choosing it. Leaning into the high instead of being taken by it. And that, somehow, makes him even more intoxicating.
“Gonna fuck you,” he breathes into Jisoo’s open mouth, using a free hand to pop open the lube and coat three fingers of his other hand.
Jun feels the jump in Jisoo’s pulse the moment he slides closer—feels it against his skin like a signal. But he doesn’t slow down. He just pushes in further, body wedged between Jisoo’s thighs, keeping them spread, keeping him open and pliant and perfectly ready. Jisoo’s too high on it to argue. Too fucked-out to do anything but breathe.
“Been a while?” Jun murmurs, circling his middle finger around Jisoo’s rim—lazy, teasing, cruel. Then, without warning, he pushes in two fingers at once.
Jisoo’s back arches off the bed. His mouth falls open around a choked little gasp.
“That’s right,” Jun coos, pressing his fingers in to the knuckle, watching Jisoo’s body open around him. It’s too fast. He knows it. He should feel worse—especially after the careful way Jisoo had prepped him earlier—but hunger doesn’t leave room for guilt.
Jisoo’s golden skin glows in the low light, flushed and trembling, and all Jun can think about is how badly he wants to keep him like this. Helpless. Desperate. He wouldn’t need restraints—his magic could do the work—but even he has limits. He can’t afford to lose control. Not if he wants to show his face at that bar again.
“Tell me you want it,” he goads, pulling his fingers out just enough to add more lube and press the tip of his third finger to Jisoo’s rim. It’s too soon, but Jun is getting impatient. His dick throbs with the anticipation of knowing he’ll soon be full and sated.
“I—”
Jisoo squirms beneath him, but Jun smirks seeing his dick hasn’t flagged, still red and dripping, still slick with come. Jun uses his free hand to squeeze Jisoo’s length. “Pretty boy, I can tell you do.”
“I do, I do, just…” Jisoo attempts, words difficult. The air around them starts to feel heavy, and Jun can hear the uncertain wobble in Jisoo’s voice. “Can we just…?”
His eyes are glassy and wide, disoriented and clouded with lust, but he’s not robbed of all thought—and Jun can’t feed from an unwilling participant.
Jun slides only two fingers back into Jisoo, slower this time, and when he crooks his fingers to press against Jisoo’s prostate, Jisoo stops trying to talk and instead reaches for Jun’s shoulder. “Wanna make you come—won’t you let me?”
Jun leans forward, pushing the head of Jisoo’s cock past his lips and swallowing him down in one smooth motion. Jisoo’s knees close around his head, but Jun doesn’t pause, doesn’t let Jisoo have even the briefest moment to change his mind. His hands find their way to Jun’s hair, nails biting into scalp, as he breathes in short, harsh gasps. Jun’s tongue circles around his girth, tracing every vein and curve. He feels the head of Jisoo’s cock brush past the ridges of his palate, further and further until he’s breaching the silky give of Jun’s throat.
When he thinks Jisoo is distracted enough, Jun squeezes a third finger inside. Jisoo’s heels dig into the mattress, slipping helplessly against the sheets—too slick beneath him, no traction, no escape from Jun’s mouth and fingers. Twin tears trail down his temples and past his hairline, but he only pulls Jun’s mouth tighter to him, like he can’t help wanting more. “I—” he tries again, only to have his voice break into a high-pitched whimper when Jun swallows around him.
Jun curls his fingers hard against Jisoo’s prostate until a sharp, choked cry slips free—music in Jun’s ears. Jisoo’s begging breaks apart in real time—slower, faster, please—every word dragged out on a shaky breath as Jun pulls off just to lick into the slit, then swallows him whole again. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, just sucks him down until his throat burns and his jaw aches, until Jisoo’s hips are stuttering and his fists are tangled in Jun’s hair like he’s holding on for dear life. Bit by bit, the resistance drains from his body—tension slipping from his legs, spine going soft, mouth falling open.
Jun feels it like a current shifting. The moment he tips from overwhelmed to undone. That’s it. That’s when Jun knows he owns him.
Jisoo is red-faced and beautiful as Jun pulls away from him. “Jun—” He’s still crying, chest heaving with every breath, but goes willingly when each one of his legs is lifted to rest on Jun’s shoulders. He feebly reaches out for Jun’s chest, but he’s not pushing away—he needs Jun. He needs to be ruined, and Jun is happy to oblige.
Jun lines himself up with Jisoo’s hole and slides in with ease. He’s hot and loose and lube-slick, barely coherent—his head tipping back as desperate, breathy uh, uh, uh noises spill from his throat.
He’s boneless beneath Jun, arms slack, mouth parted, eyes blown wide with bliss that teeters on the edge of delirium. His second orgasm hits without warning—sharp, sudden, helpless—and Jun fucks through the clench of it with a groan that tears from his chest.
The second wave of feeding slams into him. Harder. Heavier. It crashes through his body like a surge—heat and light and shuddering pressure, fraying every nerve until his hands tremble and his vision whites out. It’s too much and not enough, all at once. His body drinks it down greedily—pleasure, power, raw want—until his skin feels like it might split open from the force of it. His eyes flare fully amber.
Still, he keeps moving. Chasing something deeper than need, deeper than hunger. He doesn’t stop until he’s emptied everything into the moment—until he’s trembling, panting into the hollow of Jisoo’s throat.
Then it stops.
Jun exhales and pulls out, slow and careful. Jisoo shudders faintly and lets out a thin, exhausted sigh. Jun presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh before collapsing next to him, forearm over his eyes, heart still pounding.
They lie there, tangled and silent. It should feel triumphant—but Jun feels… exposed. There’s always a lull after feeding. A drop. A strange stillness that makes him feel too human, too soft, like the magic has gone temporarily quiet inside him. He hates how vulnerable it makes him.
“Stay there,” Jisoo murmurs beside him. “I’ll get us some water.”
Jun barely nods. He’s too blissed-out, too heavy with heat and afterglow. He listens to the soft pad of feet on floorboards, the creak of the bathroom tap. His body hums—satisfied, sinking.
Jisoo returns with two glasses. He passes one to Jun without comment and slides under the covers beside him. Jun takes it without hesitation. The water is cold and clean with a faint metallic bite of shitty Seoul tap water.
Jun swallows, then reaches to set the glass on the bedside table with a soft clink. The warmth spreading through his muscles makes it hard to move. Still, he shifts, starting to sit up—already thinking about gathering his clothes, about leaving quietly like he always does—when fingers wrap gently around his wrist.
When he turns, Jisoo’s watching him—soft smile, warm brown eyes, something tentative in his gaze. “You won’t stay?”
The question lands with more weight than it should. There’s something achingly sincere in the way Jisoo says it—something that threatens to crack Jun wide open. He hasn’t let himself consider staying the night with anyone since… well. Since his last real mistake.
But Jisoo is already tugging him gently down again, like the thought of letting go doesn’t sit right. “Please stay.”
He wants to say no. He should say no. He knows from experience: getting involved with humans is a horrible idea.
“Okay.”
Jisoo makes it easy to relax back into the cool sheets. He laughs—bright, a little breathless—as he kisses along the jut of Jun’s jaw and wraps him into his arms. His breath is warm against the back of Jun’s neck, and Jun rests his head on Jisoo’s arm. The affection feels foreign and undeserved, but Jun feels safe in his embrace nonetheless.
“I don’t normally do this,” Jisoo murmurs close to Jun’s ear. He sounds embarrassed. “Sleep with guys I don’t know,” he clarifies, as if ‘this’ was in any way ambiguous.
“Mm.” Jun isn’t sure he wants to have this conversation. Jisoo seems to be a nice enough guy, but while Jisoo claims he’s not used to late-night hookups, Jun’s not accustomed to making conversation afterward.
“It’s actually been a while since—” He trails off with a huff and buries his face in Jun’s neck.
The silence stretches, a little too expectant—like Jisoo’s waiting for him to say something back. Jun exhales slowly. He supposes he owes him that much. “M’not… judging you.” His tongue feels thick. His eyelids are heavy. Sleep isn’t far off, and for once, Jun’s glad he stayed. Jisoo probably looks beautiful in the morning light.
“Thanks.” He can feel Jisoo smile against his skin. His breath is warm and familiar. Jun closes his eyes, ready to give in to the inevitability of sleep.
“What about you?”
Jun hesitates, the truth catching somewhere behind his teeth. It doesn’t exactly paint him in the best light—but Jisoo probably deserves more than a straight-up lie. “I, uh—” He shakes his head, sighs. His body feels leaden. The words don’t come easily. “Sometimes.” He swallows hard. “I guess.”
“Not surprised,” Jisoo chuckles. “Handsome guy like you.” His fingers drift lazily across Jun’s stomach, tracing the dips and ridges like he’s mapping familiar ground. It would be soothing if Jun wasn’t trying to figure out why Jisoo’s words sound muddled.
“Are you, uh—” The words fall apart in his mouth, slippery and thin. Jun blinks into the darkness, lifting a hand in front of his face like he’s testing whether it’s still real. His skin feels too soft, too loose around him—like it’s struggling to hold everything in place.
Then lips brush against his neck. A tongue follows, slow and wet.
“Um,” he tries again, but it isn’t easier the second time. “—seeing. Any’ne you, you’re? Uh… seeing—?”
The warmth slips away from his back, and Jun blinks, suddenly chilled. Did he say something wrong? “J’soo,” he calls, voice low and rough—but there’s no answer. Just rustling. Footsteps. The kind of sounds that don’t belong to any clear intention. He tries to sit up, but his body won’t cooperate. Everything’s too slow, too heavy. His limbs feel distant. Wrong. Before he can make sense of it, he’s shoved flat on his back. The ceiling tilts, and the world begins to spin.
Jisoo’s weight settles on top of him, hands moving fast—grabbing, pulling, twisting. Jun blinks hard. Somewhere in the static of his brain, he registers that his arms are above his head. That his wrists hurt.
Jisoo is smiling.
“Wha…” Jun tries, arching his back, fumbling to get his elbows under him. But a single hand presses lightly against his chest—trivial, almost fond—and holds him down like it’s nothing.
“Whoa there, careful,” Jisoo says, easy and cheerful, like they’re chatting over coffee. “Guess you’re really feeling it now.”
Jun’s breath shudders. Through the fog, a thought surfaces: the water. The faint metallic bite. The mineral tang clinging to the back of his tongue.
“In,” he croaks, trying again. “In my… in…”
Jisoo brushes the hair from Jun’s eyes, the gesture gentle, almost affectionate. “Honestly wasn’t sure it’d have any effect on you,” he muses, voice light as air.
Jun starts to panic. His breathing fractures into shallow, wheezing gasps. He yanks at his arms, but the bite at his wrists only sharpens, plastic and tight.
“Can’t believe my luck,” Jisoo adds, still smiling like a boy with a crush. He tilts his head. His expression is radiant.
Jun’s brain finally connects the pieces—the pressure, the resistance, the burn of plastic zip ties locking around skin and bone. His eyes roll back in his head.
“I’ve never caught an incubus before.”