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London 1845 ―
fog-drenched and damp ― loomed up from the Thames’
riverbanks. Soot darkened the skies, casting a pall over the
city, even in the deepest of midday. From Tanners Row, a
stench permeated the air, the foul tallow smoking as
indentured servants skimmed off chunks of fat from boiling
vats. Church bells tolled the hours, the solemn ringing past
tea time.
An Anglican acolyte
stood in the entrance of St. Bart’s parish, silently
watching the students of the hospital’s new medical college
slink by. Pale, even by English standards, his Asian
features set him apart from the rosy cheeked young men
stomping past him, splashing up great waves of muddy water
with their thick soled Wellingtons.
Dew formed a sparkling
web on the ends of his black hair, its thick waves falling
down around his delicate features. Despite the moisture in
the air, his full mouth was dry, chapped from the bite of
London’s cold wind. Dressed in traditional layman’s black,
he seemed an exotic wraith against the solid stone of the
parish walls, crow-sharp eyes noting everything around him.
“They are loud, aren’t
they, Mr. Park?”
Jaemin jumped at the
sound of the deacon’s melodious voice at his shoulder,
startled by the man’s sudden appearance. His heart skipped,
stuttering and faulting before settling back into its
rhythm, the soft shush shush of its workings undermined by
the offbeat of a murmur in his chest. Catching his breath,
Min leaned forward, placing his palm on the parish’s arched
entrance. The stone dug into his palm, catching on his fine
skin. The pain was welcome, a reminder that he could still
feel… that he was still alive.
Life for him would be
fleeting, a speck of skin and air that would fade away
sooner than most. Each small pinprick or gouge on his flesh
was a reminder that he continued on.
“I’m sorry, lad,” Deacon
Davis murmured, awkwardly patting at Min’s back. “I should
have announced myself. I didn’t mean to give you a start.”
“It’s alright, sir,” Min
could feel the colour returning to his face, the blood
pumping back under his skin. His breaths grew longer as his
lungs regained function. Despite the irregular beat of his
heart, his body soldiered on, intent on carrying to another
day.
He didn’t remember the
long voyage that carried him and his mother to England’s
shores nor did he have any memory of the illness that took
her life and nearly consumed him as well. The elder priests
at St. Bartholomew The Great prayed over him as the sickness
ravaged his young body, the rattle in his chest growing
wetter with each passing day until his body twisted and
writhed as he struggled to breathe. The hospital staff had
been little help, their time and efforts spent on aiding the
locals struck down with the cough, the long marble halls
filled with hastily constructed cots and bedding lain
straight on the floor as the sick came in droves.
The merchant who
transported the Park family from the East fell victim to the
ailment within hours of landing and passed before Jaemin’s
mother. Afraid for others’ lives, the ports master ordered
the merchant’s ship to be pulled to the middle of the
harbour and set aflame, its dead placed into its hold and
its cargo given up. The ship smoldered, billowing smoke into
the ash-filled air until its bare-ribbed corpse sank beneath
the waters, leaving nothing behind of the woman who brought
Min to London’s chill.
Min struggled to
remember the pretty woman who the priests said fought to get
her son into care, her broken English barely understandable
between her hacking coughs. He had nothing of her, not even
a memory or the whisper of her voice in the middle of his
dreams. She died within hours of entering the church, and he
was left alone in the world, owning nothing more than the
name she gave the priests, Min lay feverish for weeks,
coughing up black vile liquids as members from the
congregation sat with the foreign toddler, all half
wondering if it wouldn’t be a blessing for God to take the
frail youngster to be with his mother.
The doctor who’d finally
come to see him gave Min only a few days to live, at best a
week. Fitful, he cried when the deacon anointed his forehead
with oil and performed the rites to save Min’s soul. The
touch of the man’s warm fingers soothed the toddler and he
fell into a deeper sleep, his breathing evening out. His
coughing eased and the viscous fluids from his lungs
lessened, turning clear then subsiding all together. Ravaged
by the illness, his heart beat in flutters, and over the
next few months, the parish priests carefully tended the
sickly child, knowing that he would never truly cross over
the threshold to manhood.
“You should get out of
the cold, Mr. Park,” The deacon said, feeling the brisk air
on his face. Winter lay on the wind, promising to freeze the
ground solid. “We don’t want to risk you catching your death
on the cold.”
“Yes, sir,” Min replied,
bowing his head respectfully before turning back into the
church proper. He’d grown used to the priests coddling him,
watching his every breath as if it would be his last. It was
tiring, but he’d grown used to it.
The inner sanctum of the
annex was warm, lit by rows of white beeswax candles. It
smelled of apples and cinnamon, the fragrance coming from
the kitchens as a tart of stored fruit baked, made by one of
the housekeepers charged with the priests’ caretaking. The
food was plain, sometimes stew for days on end, but the rare
treat was worth everything. When he was younger, the cook
would sneak him an extra piece of dessert.
Now they snuck him two.
Dinner was a few hours
off by the sound of the bells calling out the time in the
dank London air. Restless, he took off the long black coat
he’d worn to ward off the outside cold, and settled down
into the soft comfort of his bed. Sleep claimed him, as it
usually did, his body worn from the walk. Each day became a
greater struggle as his heart fought to keep its pace. As
Min drifted off into the welcoming darkness, he wondered if
this was the time when he didn’t wake.
*
“Do you miss home so
much that you’re now hunting down little pieces of it?” Bae
Jun asked, exhaling a plume from his pursed lips. The
cheroot’s tip burned cherry red as he drew its smoke into
his lungs, letting a trail seep out of his flared nostrils,
draconian will o’ wisps scalloping around his handsome face.
A bit of ash fell from the cigarillo, floating on the cold
air until it lay to rest on Yunsu’s topcoat.
The men stood on the
walkway overlooking the hospital, seemingly unaffected by
the cold in the London air. They were a sharp contrast to
the rabble of students bustling in and out of the medical
facility’s school and even farther away from the droves of
poor huddled around the heating vents near the hospital’s
entrance, hoping for a bit of food and care before trudging
back through London’s filthy streets. The casual passersby
slid a stealthy glance over the tall forms, their trim
bodies fitted with the latest fashion but their foreign
beauty gave them an exotic air among the English frippery,
two lean Siamese cats lounging with open disregard among
prides of scrawny moggies.
Exotic was fine behind
closed doors but in the watery glare of London’s fading
sunlight, it became monstrously strange and a dangerous
flirtation for the person who for a second, considered
speaking to the men.
“Chil, did you hate home
so much that you have to run from it?” Yunsu rolled his
eyes, teasing the other man. His mouth formed a tight smile
but his lips moved up just long enough for his blood-brother
to see the tip of his fangs. “Or since we are in England, do
you prefer Bae now?.”
The complicated tendrils
of their forged brotherhood tested both men, strong willed
personalities that butted heads over nearly everything.
Their mistress often called them by the order that she took
them into the darkness, losing their names in her memory.
Her beauty first entranced Bae Jun, a dancer in the court.
Within a few days of filling him with her blood, she spotted
a young soldier making the rounds of a township and plucked
Yunsu from his life and into hers.
Like all fancies, she
grew tired of them after several decades, her fondness for
the exotic moving to the Southern Continent where she roamed
now, delightfully rummaging through the labyrinth cities of
Morocco. Left to their own devices, the men drifted through
Europe, never more than a few miles from one another. Past
resentments of sharing the same woman lingered in both of
their minds but they remained nearby, pulled together by
their shared heritage and bound blood.
“I don’t mind Bae.” The
older vampire shrugged nonchalantly, knowing the casual
gesture would irritate the more exacting man. “It is a lucky
number here. Several of my… companions call me that. It’s
easier on my ears than Chil. They slaughter my name with
every twist of their tongue. But ah, we weren’t talking
about me. We were talking about you and the fresh-faced boy
you called me to stare at.”
Bae carefully rested his
elbows on the walkway’s stone railing, avoiding the larger
of the bird offal on the ledge. With their change came
advantages, a keener eyesight and sharper senses one of the
many. The now sensitive nerves of their bodies could adapt
to many things, piercing through shadows and absorbing
ambient light. They were warned to be cautious as their
adaptations also bore a price; the sensitive skin was now
unable to bear the brunt of full sunlight. London’s dim
afternoons made walking during the day possible but the
danger still existed, especially when one of their own was
caught unaware. They’d both seen the third member of their
mistress’ cadre smoke under the wink of an afternoon sun,
his hand carelessly falling through a carriage window and
into the noon’s fire.
The smell of him cooking
haunted them both as did his screams of pain over the next
few weeks when the servants laboured to scrape away the dead
tissues every hour to force his healing.
“How long have you been
hunting him?” Bae asked his brother, flicking his cheroot
with his fingers. He watched the ash fall to the pass below,
a grey-white mote on the trodden wet grass.
“I’m not…hunting him,”
Yunsu said, shaking his head. He leaned his weight on the
flats of his palm, staring through the shadows and into the
youth’s bedroom. “I want him, Bae Jun. I want my blood in
his veins. I want him with me.”
Bae froze, eerily still
as what Yunsu said sunk in. It was… unimaginable. They stood
in a foreign land, nearly a century after they’d left their
homeland, and what Yunsu was proposing seemed… incredulous.
If he brought the young man to a life of endless nights,
they would have to leave, fleeing their comfortable life in
London for another city where it would take them at least a
year to reestablish themselves. It would mean more lies,
half-truths told to too many faces until everything blurred
into one long thread of fiction.
And there would be
another name…another face… that they would have to memorize
these lies for.
“You’re mad,” Bae
whispered. “Do you know what that means? Don’t you remember
how it was for us? How confusing and unsettling?”
“It will be different,”
Yunsu insisted. “I know…”
“You know?” The other
man retorted. “It sounds like you’ve planned this out
already. As if you have stories you already are going to
have at the tip of your tongue when people ask after a young
priest suddenly moving in with you?”
Turning, Bae flung his
cheroot over the railing and pressed in against Yunsu’s
shoulder, hemming the man in against the railing. The other
man’s chin came up, defiant against his blood-brother’s
arguments. Eyes narrowed, he squared himself off, readying
himself for Bae’s attack, his fists balling up at his sides.
“Is he there to save
your immortal soul, Eight?” Pushing in, Bae nudged Yunsu off
balance, the leather of his boots squeaking as he took
another step. “Is that what you’re going to tell your
housekeeper? That you’ve found yourself needing the comfort
of the clergy? Are you going to make him wear his collar
when you take him? Is that the perversion that calls to you?
The seduction of one of God’s men?”
“He’s not a priest,”
Yunsu said, pushing at Bae’s shoulder, shoving the man away.
The former dancer turned on his heel, baring his canines
with a hiss. Yunsu responded with a display of his own, a
carefully peeled back lip, refusing to back down from the
other man’s aggression.
They stepped away from
each other, simmering in the stew of their irritation.
Oblivious to the drama escalating a few hundred yards from
his tiny parish room, Jaemin closed his eyes, staving off
the fatigue leeching his strength. Yunsu gripped at the
railing, digging his fingers into its carved stone and
stared at the long-limbed young man stretched out onto the
thin bed.
“How long have you been
watching him?” Bae asked, his voice nearly taken by the rush
of wind sweeping through the streets. “How long have you
been planning this, brother?”
“I noticed him when he
was… sixteen or so.” Yunsu’s eyes grew distant, remembering
the evening he’d spotted the youth walking through the
crowd. The Asian kept his head down, either bashful of his
lanky height or, more probable, conscious of his foreignness
among the English. He’d not seen Yunsu falling into step a
few feet away nor did he notice the vampire following him
nearly to the church’s doorstep.
Intrigued by the mystery
of an Asian dressed in the black-crow drapery of an acolyte,
Yunsu shadowed the young man, learning bits and pieces of
his routine. He’d been nearby when a carriage horse reared
back, nearly striking the youth in the head. Yunsu was
startled to see a blue tinge form around the young man’s
mouth, his skin drawing in tight as he struggled to catch
his breath. With clutched fingers at his chest, he’d fallen,
crying out with little gasping mewls and Yunsu fought the
stream of people to reach the young man’s side.
The youth’s eyes were
already rolled back in his head when Yunsu stepped onto the
walk, his chest rattling with a final breath. Alarmed, he
nearly grabbed the young man but a pair of liver-spotted
hands were there first. A sour-faced deacon grappled the
youth’s shoulders, shaking him violently once… then again.
About to protest the rough treatment, the blue-lipped young
man gasped, and inhaled sharply, a vicious wet cough racking
his body.
“You’ll not die on me,
you filthy ding,” The priest spat, straightening up to stand
over the young man’s weakened body. “Now get to your feet
and head back to the parish. I’ll tend to the Brownings
myself.”
“So he’s sick, then?”
Bae asked, nodding when Yunsu grunted. “Have you talked to
him about this? About becoming one of us?”
“No,” Yunsu admitted,
staring at his fingernails. “I’ve never spoken to him. It
never seemed to be… the right time.”
“You’ve lurked after him
for what? Three or four years and you’ve never spoken to
him?” Snorting at the ridiculousness of Yunsu’s predicament,
Bae wiped at his face. “Think about what you want to do,
brother. You’re talking about binding someone to us… to our
mistress… to our blood for however long he can stand it. Is
this starling so enchanting that you’re willing to risk our
lives on him? Because that’s what you’ll be doing, Yunsu.
You risk us by approaching him and making him one of us.
Everything we are depends on secrets. Can you risk this?”
“I want to. There’s
something in him that draws me in.” He watched a flock of
pigeons round the hospital’s towers, heading back to roost.
“I feel something there. And not just because he’s… Korean.
I can’t explain it.”
“You’d do better taking
in one of the gypsy boys that pick pockets on the square. At
least they’d bring in money,” Bae said under his breath. He
frowned as Yunsu stepped away from the rail, the other man
adjusting his coat. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve a game at the
club. I promised one of the members that I’d play cards with
him,” Yunsu said, shrugging off Bae’s annoyance. “I’ll talk
to you about him later. Maybe if you have time to think
about how I feel, you’ll understand.”
Bae watched his
mistress’ get fade into the fog, losing Yunsu in the
swirling mists. Clipping off the tip of another cigarillo,
Bae struck a match and lit its end, drawing on the fragrant
smoke. He took a one last look at the young man who
captivated his blood-brother before stepping into the dank
vapors himself.
“I’ll have to break you
of your obsession, dearest brother,” Bae said to himself, an
idea forming in his mind. “Let’s see how easy it is to
seduce your young bird.”
*
It began as a simple
plan. He would follow Yunsu’s new pet, searching for
weaknesses in the young man’s character. By exposing the
frailty of Yunsu’s chosen, Bae would prove to his
blood-brother that the youth in question was unworthy of an
eternal gift… and more importantly, the men would be safe
from betrayal.
A simple plan, Bae told
himself. A masterful plan.
Bae spent a week
stalking the young man’s movements and learning his habits.
Bookstores and libraries made up most of the youth’s time,
his afternoons mostly taken up by visits to members of the
parish’s congregation. An occasional visit to a museum broke
the monotony and after a few days, Bae was about to burst
from boredom. Tired of skulking about in the shadows, he
moved in, rounding the stacks and came face to face with his
prey.
And fell into the young
man’s smoky amber eyes.
He’d not stammered since
he’d first seen his mistress, her lush red hair a fiery fall
over her pale shoulders. The young man brought the same
heart-pounding reaction, the stilled blood in his veins
surging through his limbs. Gulping, Bae nearly choked on his
own breath, his carefully phrased seduction collapsing into
ash on his tongue.
Recovering quickly, he
swallowed, refocusing on his mission. The boy was dressed in
his typical black shroud, his lean body cloaked under the
dark fabric. His overcoat was thin and worn in spots, mended
at the hem in too many places for Bae to count. The sleeves
were too short for the young man’s long arms, a good portion
of skin showing above his wrist bones. He was luckier with
the pants for length but not for fit. The trousers hung
slack on his thighs, too loose to be fashionable. It was an
endearing look, Bae thought, much like a young child
suddenly finding himself too grown to wear his own clothes
and not large enough to carry his father’s.
A carefully placed nudge
brought a clutch of portfolios tumbling from the table, its
erotic leaflets scattering about the polished wood floor.
The young man immediately bent over, murmuring words of
apology for knocking over Bae’s reading materials. The
vampire smiled when a red flush worked from the young man’s
cheeks and up to the tips of his ears poking out from his
mop of black hair. He gulped several times, clutching at the
vellum sheets as if unsure if he should hand them to Bae or
fling them back to the floor.
“Oh.” If the blush was
sweet, his voice was hot sugar poured on snow. The heat in
his face was palatable, searing Bae’s fingers when the
vampire brushed at the flush on the young man’s cheeks.
“You… um, I must have hit the edges…when…”
He’d chosen that
particular folio on purpose, erotic images of men
intertwined in various states of undress and sex. The
sketches were skillful, careful attention paid to the men’s
faces and their throes of passion. Nothing was left to the
imagination, each rendering captured at the point of
penetration when both men were at their most aroused.
“It’s a curious thing,
isn’t it?” He didn’t take the vellum from the youth’s hands.
Instead, Bae stroked at the back of his trembling hands,
mimicking the long strokes a man gave his lover’s sex.
“We’re so intrigued with the act of sex but when faced with
the most natural and beautiful thing that God gave us, we
stumble and hide. Don’t you agree?”
“I…” He never got
farther than that, swallowing hard when Bae’s thumb brushed
over his lower lip.
The young man’s mouth
was kissable, Bae decided, and his long neck begged to
bitten, regardless if the biter drew blood to suckle on. He
nearly died inside when the acolyte’s tongue dabbed out
nervously, leaving a spot of moisture on the pad of his
thumb. The innocence of the response nearly burned him with
its purity and his body responded to the guileless widening
of the young man’s brown eyes.
“What’s your name, pet?”
Bae caressed the word on his tongue, a modern day affection
weighted down with delicious possibilities.
“Jaemin Park.” His
Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, his words sliding around
the breadth of Bae’s thumb. He shuffled back half a step,
enough of a distance to separate himself from Bae’s touch
but not far enough to be impolite. “Max is the Christian
name they gave me but I don’t use it often.”
“Jaemin.” Giving the
young man a slight bow, Bae held his hand out in
introduction. “I am Bae Jun Choi but many of my English
friends call me Bae.”
Cocking his head in
confusion, Min asked, “Bye? Like good-bye?”
“An affectation,” He
replied with a slight smile on his full lips. “A…nickname of
sorts from my …mother. You might say I’m her seventh son.”
“That’s supposed to be
lucky.” He nodded.
“So they tell me,” Bae
agreed. He rubbed at the memory of the youth’s lips on his
thumb, spreading the scent of him into his skin. A few steps
brought Bae up against Min’s slender body, capturing the
young man against the stacks. Placing his feet on either
side of Min’s, hemming him in. “What matter of priest
tarries in this section of the bibliothèque? Are you taking
notes for a hellfire and brimstone sermon that you’re
giving? Are you doing research on what to warn your flock
off?”
Park Jaemin… fit. The
young man’s thighs curved where Bae’s dipped, the triangular
divot of muscle where the older man’s torso joined his limbs
was filled with Min’s succulent hips and legs. A slither of
flesh twitched against Bae’s trouser, elongating to nudge at
the fabric. The feel of Min’s arousal, however conflicted,
warmed between them, trapped against Bae’s leg.
Startled, the young man
raised his hands as if to ward Bae off, placing them on the
vampire’s firm torso. His palms slid over the older man’s
silk jacket, resting on the muscled curve of his chest and
pressing the heels of his hands against Bae’s body. Shifting
his feet, Bae brought himself closer, nesting the youth
tight against him. The wood shelves dug into Min’s back and
he instinctively arched his back, trying to ease the
pressure.
“I’m… um… not a priest,”
Jaemin whispered. The older man stood nearly eye to eye with
him, a rare event in Min’s life. The man was broader across
the shoulders and stronger, the picture of health compared
to Jaemin’s thinner frame.
“Ah, so I see now. I
don’t know how I could have missed it.” Bae plucked at the
youth’s black collar, edging his fingers around the space
where a white tab would poke through. “So then, tell me
something else…why does a pretty young man wear old priest
clothes and lingers in the very naughty section of the
folios?”
“I’ve always worn…”
Cocking his head back, Min stared into Bae’s dark eyes. “I
need to go. I have to help the deacon prepare for evening
services.”
The vampire moved in,
his lips nearly brushing against Min’s. A tempest of heat
flared between them, the proximity of their flesh creating a
sear along Min’s protruding lower lip. A fang slid free of
Bae’s smile, glistening in the shadows thrown over their
faces. Its tip lightly dimpled Jaemin’s lip then raked
across the pearled pink skin. Pulling away, Bae ran his
tongue over the canine, suckling Min’s taste from the
enamel.
“Of course, little
church mouse,” He said, taking his time sliding away from
Min’s legs. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s probably
because I’ve not seen a fellow countryman for such a long
time… excepting for my brother.”
Jaemin was forced to
duck around Bae’s arm to get past and he brushed against the
man’s stomach, unconsciously allowing his fingers to linger
there for a moment. A wave of panic rushed up from his
chest, its tightening warning him of an impending attack.
Forcing himself to calm down, Jaemin slowed his walk, trying
to catch his breath before his heart beat raced out of
control.
“If I find myself
needing to speak with God, pet,” Bae called out after him
before Min could step out of earshot. “Where would I find
Him?”
“God is everywhere,
sir,” Min replied, a defiant tilt to his chin.
The vampire’s
closed-mouth grin was infectious and Jaemin found himself
smiling in return. “Where would I find you, if I needed to
talk to you instead?”
“St. Barts,” He blurted
before he could catch himself.
Min reddened, still
feeling the burn of the man’s legs against his hips and
thighs. The too-intimate touch was a daring pleasure,
nothing he’d experienced before came close to the rush from
Bae’s proximity. Too late, he wondered if he’d survive the
man’s bare flesh touching his own. Hell’s fires couldn’t
burn as hot as the blush on his face when Min stumbled out
into the street, breaking into a fast walk to reach St.
Barts before the bells began to toll for service.
*
Jaemin searched the
congregation that night for Bae’s face. He tried to convince
himself that it wasn’t disappointment he felt when he didn’t
see the man sitting among the regulars. For the next few
days, he found himself scanning the crowd, once even losing
track of the service and falling out of step when the deacon
began his final prayers.
On the fourth day
following his encounter with the older man, Jaemin swept the
last of the ashes from the living area’s fireplace and
headed outside to dump the refuge into the ashbin. The smell
of sweet cherry smoke wafted from the lawn on the side of
the annex and a tall, firm shadow detached from the tall
hedges trimming the outer circle, heading towards Min.
The faint moonlight
coming through the clouds shone on Bae’s face, throwing his
cheekbones into stark sweeps under his dark eyes. He was
cast in blues and ebonies, the colour of his skin and
clothes leeched from the silver swaths falling through the
night sky.
“Hello, church mouse.”
Min’s sex reacted,
thickening instantly on hearing Bae’s voice. Swallowing
hard, he stumbled over his words, trying to find something
sentient to say amid the tangle of thoughts that bloomed in
his mind. The ash bin clattered to the cobblestones, the
noise bouncing against the sides of the nearby buildings.
The other man was by his
side before Min could speak, a rush of air blowing the young
man’s hair back from his face. Capable, long hands gripped
Min’s fingers, turning them over to check for injuries. A
spill of warm embers smoked on the damp walkway, burning a
bright red as the wind picked up, blowing them to life.
“Are you alright?” You
didn’t burn yourself did you?” Bae asked, running his
fingertips over the young man’s palms, checking for rising
blisters. “I didn’t mean to startle you. vison.”
“I’m fine.” He
reluctantly drew his hand back from the older man’s, rubbing
at the spots Bae touched.
“Let me help you clean
this up,” Bae said, taking the ash whisk from the bin. He
started to sweep up the pluming embers, carefully angling
the walking bin to capture the sparks before they flew.
“You shouldn’t,” Min
protested. “You’re… too fine to do this. Your clothes…”
“Are just fabric,” Bae
laughed, working the bin around again. “I’m not so noble
that I forget what it means to work, pet. Here. All done.”
Min took the walking bin
and dumped it, closing the trap when he was done. He gave
the sweeper tools a quick wash in the back trough, shaking
loose most of the water with a twist of his wrists. Standing
there, he was unsure of what to do next. His instincts told
him to run but something inside of him begged him to remain.
It was…decidedly nice to see someone’s face that resembled
his for once. Too often he’d stared in the mirror, wishing
his eyes were rounder or didn’t crinkle unevenly when he
smiled. There had been times when he was growing up when
other children would point to illustrations in books and
shout that he was devil spawn because of the slant of his
eyes and the tone of his skin.
“So, what else does a
serious but naughty young man do in on an early evening?”
Bae leaned against the wall of the annex, studying Min’s
expressive face. “Cards? Gambling?”
“I’m not naughty,”
Jaemin said, his temper rising. Small whispers floated in
his mind, traitorous mewlings that suggested with this man,
he certainly could explore every aspect of sin. “Or at
least, I try to. Besides, it’s a childish word. There are
others that are more suitable.”
“Suitable?” He mused,
contemplating other choices. “Like what? What would you
prefer?”
“I would choose… wicked
or wayward. Maybe mischievous, if what I’d done wasn’t too…”
Min unthinkingly licked at his lips, wetting their pout with
his tongue. “Harmful. I wouldn’t want to harm someone else.
That would be wrong.”
“So there’s a difference
between sin and harm then?” Bae traced the path of Min’s
tongue with the tip of finger, rolling over the moist trail.
“Maybe you can teach me that difference, church mouse?”
“You’re older than I
am,” He replied. “If you don’t know the difference by now,
how do you expect me to teach you? Maybe the deacon can help
you?”
For a moment, Bae
thought the boy was serious but the twinkle in his honeyed
brown eyes hid a sharp intellect, a teasing that the vampire
didn’t think Yunsu’s prey was capable of. He’d seen the
flash of temper and the rigid control of a strong-willed man
fighting it down; two signs that Park Jaemin was more than
pretty underneath his crow-wing rags.
He would have to fall
back and re-think, Bae decided. More so because his tongue
itched to follow where his finger had just been. And even
more so, his teeth ached to bite into the fulsome pout until
the young man moaned and clutched at him. The small of his
back needed to feel the wrap of the youth’s long legs, his
fingernails digging into Bae’s bare back until they both
bled into one another.
No, definitely time to
step back and think things over, he thought.
It would be better to
step forward and take what you want, whispered the wicked,
naughty demon in his soul. Yunsu can always find another
playmate. This one…this little church mouse… is something
more. He is made of untapped sin that you want to plunge
into. Take him. Apologize to your brother later when this
one is lying in your bed, undone and sated.
“No, pet. If anyone is
going to teach me what true sin is, it will be you.” Bae
said finally, stealing a kiss from Min’s startled mouth.
Their tongues met, a little dab of sex exploding in their
throats. He savoured the young man, tasting the untouched
world of sensuality that lay under the golden skin that pled
to be brought to a blush. A sliver of apple and cinnamon
mingled with a touch of sin, the offering of a snake to
God’s chosen, begging to fall from grace so pleasure could
be born.
He pulled away before he
surrendered to his basest instincts, leaving Jaemin gasping
for air. A final brush of his thumb over Min’s mouth and
then Bae turned, disappearing in London’s rising darkness.
*
Jaemin had no one to
talk to, none that shared his secrets and confidences. The
room he’d slept in for years was barren of anything
connected to a home, its walls naked of pictures depicting
family or a far off land he’d never remember. Stacks of
books kept him company, worlds trapped on the page and ink.
He flew off to distant places in the flicker of the evening
light, immersing himself in foreign tastes that he could
only imagine.
Books gave him a window
out of the grey dismal world, shining down colours where
none existed. Most of the priests frowned upon the secular
trappings of his reading but the deacon staved them off,
reminding the men that Jaemin was a scholar among them. The
Deacon often said; How would the boy know of what is out
there in the world if not through the eyes of others? His
frail heart won’t allow any travel. Better he spend what
time he has walking the lands through the pages. We can
allow him that much.
After the final session
of Sunday prayers, Jaemin returned to his room, fatigue
drawing the grey out to the surface of his skin. The
carrying of duties wore him down, his breath coming in short
pants as he struggled to light the candles that cast a glow
down on the altar. He’d nearly passed out before the service
ended, the world spinning with a checkered flash of lights
and shadows. The priest doing the service shot him a stern
look, as if daring him to die before the final blessing and
Min straightened himself up, forcing his body to hold on for
a few minutes longer.
It had been relief when
the deacon excused him from clearing the church and he fled
back to his room, holding onto the walls to steady himself
until he could lie down. The streetlights were lit,
illuminating his room, fractured by the leading of the oddly
paned window. A beam of light struck his bed, catching on
the gold clasp of a large book.
The leather binding was
a fine goatskin, tanned to a rich mahogany and bound
expertly with thick thread. A thick runner ribbon lapped out
from under the cover, its brocade weave a merry mingle of
greens and golds. It was a book that a rich man would own,
too fine for the likes of a broken bodied foreigner who
scraped for each penny novel he could purchase.
His fingers trembled as
he opened the book, daring himself to see what was inside.
The roof of his mouth was filled with his dry tongue, a
steep nervousness shaking his bones. Touching the gold
filigree end caps on the cover’s corners, he carefully
opened the tome, wondering how such a treasure found its way
into his room.
A folded foolscap
whispered out, drawn by the rush of air from the cover
opening. The paper rested on his worn quilt, a bright
handmade cream flecked with threads of silver. Picking up
the note, Jaemin unfolded it, feeling the richness of the
paper crinkle in his fingers as he read the strong
handwriting inked over the page.
“Mink.” Jaemin frowned,
unsure if he liked the word or if the letter was even for
him. Continuing, his frown lightened, the grip on the letter
lessening as his worry eased.
“I saw this and thought
of you. It was a delight to find because tales from our
homeland are rarely documented, much less in English. I wish
it were in French so I could read it to you. That language
is so pretty to hear in the cup of one’s ear. More
importantly, I wish I can one day hear you read it to me in
Korean. I shall enjoy teaching you the correct pronunciation
of your name. There are certain twists of the tongue that
you need to learn. So, you shall teach me what sin is and I
shall teach you how to sin. Your servant in wickedness, Bae”
His weariness was
forgotten, buried deep under the need to see the land his
mother came from. Carefully picking up the treasure that had
been left for him, Jaemin nested into the pile of pillows he
curled to sleep in and opened the cover, losing himself into
a tale of a fox sister and her appetite for liver.
On a walkway across the
lawns, a vampire stood, contemplating the fall of light over
a young man’s face. He lit a cheroot, exhaling a plume of
smoke into the air before walking away, telling himself it
was too soon to place himself where a book now rested.
*
“I wanted to thank you
for the book,” Jaemin said first, sitting nervously down in
the wing chair. The sweets shop was no place for a church
mouse like himself, the nickname sticking in his head. “But
it’s too rich. I can’t accept it.”
He’d received a note
from Bae asking to meet at the chocolatier’s, a luscious
smelling drawing room that Jaemin passed often enough when
making rounds for the parish. There were times when he
wanted to peek through the door, its heavily glassed pane
marbled with gold leaf and boasting the names of the men who
worked the confections inside. The ton frequented such
places, lofty exclusive shops where he would bring stares
not just for his face but his demeanor and clothing.
Bae looked as if he’d
been born to fit such luxurious surroundings, his long
legged body draped elegantly in the leather chair, its brass
upholstery tacks glinting into a beaming aurora around his
head. Jaemin blanched at the sight of Bae’s lean thighs
encased in fitted trousers, the dark fabric run through with
thin white threads that elongated his height. The dark red
of his jacket shone like blood on gold against the tanned
leather chair, his white shirt and black ties lush on his
tanned skin. The leather of his boots glistened with polish
and Min was keenly aware of the blunt dullness of his own
serviceable shoes.
But Bae greeted him as
if they were old friends, standing to clasp him around the
shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug. They lingered a
moment too long for society’s comfort but no one murmured
sharp whispers although he did see several women sigh,
pressing their hands to their chests when Bae brushed a
light kiss over his cheek before sitting down.
“Nonsense,” Bae replied,
nodding as a servant brought them a steaming pot. He waited
until the man finished serving them, pouring out the thick,
bittersweet drinking chocolate. Lightly dusting each drink’s
surface with confectioner’s sugar, the man withdrew, leaving
the men to their exotic afternoon repast. “I got the book
for you. It’s yours. I even wrote your name on the
bookplate.”
“Aish,” Min hissed, a
rough sound that delighted Bae. “I can’t believe you wrote
in a book! That’s just…”
“Sacrilege?” He supplied
the word, handing Min a steaming porcelain tea cup. The
servant brought out sturdier cups rather than the delicate
florals used for the women but the young man’s long fingers
easily wrapped around the bowl. “It’s the bookplate. That’s
what it’s there for. Drink your chocolate.”
“I shouldn’t have agreed
to meet you here,” Jaemin said, nearly setting the cup down.
“I can’t afford this, Bae. Will they take it back?”
“I have more than enough
money to buy all of England a cup to sip. Don’t let’s worry
about the cost,” Bae said, stopping Min before he poured the
chocolate back into the pot. “Drink. Relax. And tell me how
you like it.”
The first sip was an
aberrant peek into Heaven, angel wings carrying the voice of
God in a rain too delicious to describe. The grains were
slick on his tongue, a melting cloud of darkness heavy with
cream, sugar and cinnamon. It was something unexpected and
erotic, a molasses flavoured with unfulfilled sex and wanted
kisses.
It tasted like Bae, Min
thought. This is what this man tastes like.
“It’s good,” He murmured
softly, his hands shaking as he took another sip, careful of
the heat of the liquid on his tongue. It would burn him if
he would let it… much like the man who sat in the chair
opposite of him.
Let him burn you, His
mind echoed his heart’s wish. You won’t live long enough for
any other fire to touch you. Stand in this flame now. It was
ignited for you. Only for you.
That thought was chased
away by Bae’s laughter at the satisfied smile on Min’s face
and he leaned forward, pressing a tray of cakes at Jaemin,
urging the young man to taste one of everything, two if he
liked it. They spent the afternoon talking about the legends
of that far off land, and Min tried his tongue around the
foreign words Bae began to teach him.
The first word he
learned was mother, something he could whisper in his
prayers when he thought of her soul reaching Heaven’s gates
and the angels welcoming her in.
The second word Bae
taught him was kiss, which he demonstrated with a skillful
slant of his lips and tongue on Min’s mouth.
It was the word Min
remembered best and the one he whispered as he fell asleep
that night.
*
The first time they
kissed it was under the moonlight of the Queen’s rose
gardens, standing amid the winter damasks. In the wind was
the faint refrains of an orchestra, the strings playing a
waltz that Jaemin didn’t know. His musical exposure lay
mostly in hymns with the occasional bawdy tune he heard on
the docks while taking soup to the poor. To his ears, the
refrain sounded as if it sang to his soul, urging him to
open his mouth and let Bae in.
He did and the stars
fell around him, the clouds no longer able to hold back
their light.
*
When Bae bit into
Jaemin’s skin, he gulped at the sunlight poured from the
darkness of a man’s body. Noon and sunrises burst onto his
tongue, his throat filling with the essence of a man he
wanted deep inside of his soul. There were dreams and worked
silver in Jaemin’s kiss, delicate but strong embellishments
that made Bae realize his world lacked the prism of Min’s
laugh… of his smile and mostly of his musings.
“Bae,” Jaemin gasped,
his heart pounding erratically. He knew what the creature
was doing… what the man was doing to him. The stories he’d
read spoke of darkly sinful men who would drag their victims
off, bringing death with each bite of their long teeth. He
could have pulled away. Bae’s hold on him was loose and
comfortable.
Instead he held the man
closer, wanting…needing to give Bae the only thing he could
give him.
“Just a little bit,
pet,” Bae whispered, biting down on his thumb to open up a
cut along the pad. Sliding past Min’s white teeth, he placed
himself on the other man’s tongue, letting his night-tainted
blood spread to fill Min’s mouth.
Jaemin’s thirst and need
overwhelmed him and he closed his lips over the man’s
offering, drawing Bae in until he could feel the ridge of a
thumbnail on the back of his throat. It scraped along his
roof, hitting each ridge and leaving a small slice along the
soft of his palate. There, in Min’s mouth, they mingled for
the first time… a delicious taste of moonlight and candied
violets, the treat lingering on Bae’s fingers from their
afternoon tea. Sugar crystals fought with the sweetness of
his own blood, blending into the dark richness of Bae’s
taste.
He swallowed and his
world opened, the shadows deepening, casting the colours
into a bright contrast. Bae’s flesh filled him, curved over
his tongue until the breadth of it wasn’t enough and
Jaemin’s core ached to feel the touch of his maker in the
depths of his heat.
It was over too soon
when Bae pulled back, leaving Min panting for more. His
chest pounded with the strength of his heart beats,
thrusting blood into each inch of his arteries. Min felt
alive for the first time in his memory, each pulse of his
blood filling his body. The feeling subsided, leaving him
with a throb along his spine. Jaemin trembled in Bae’s arms,
cursing his body and its illnesses.
“Damn.” Min curled his
fist, smacking with a futile strength at Bae’s chest. “Damn.
Damn.”
“Don’t worry, pet,” Bae
licked away the tears forming at the edges of his chosen
get. “It’ll be twice more and you won’t ever have to feel
like that ever again.”
*
“You fucking son of a
bitch,” Yunsu screamed, his voice cracking as he spat into
Bae’s face. A bruise purpled the other man’s chin, a thin
trail of blood leaking from a cut on his lip. “You fucking
knew he was mine! You knew! And you did this! For what? To
teach me a lesson? To hurt me? Of everything that you’ve
ever done to me, brother, this by far the worst.”
Yunsu paced across the
living room of Bae’s flat, uncaring of the mud he tracked
over a Persian rug. He’d spotted Bae walking with Jaemin
from a tea shop and followed the pair, a mute and betrayed
shadow choking on his brother’s treachery. He lurked outside
of the church for a few minutes before fleeing to his
blood-brother’s row-house.
He’d struck as soon as
Bae crossed the threshold, landing a stunning blow across
the other’s face. Bae blocked the second but didn’t see the
third, falling back onto the hard wood floor. Looking up at
his attacker, all of the angry fled the older vampire’s
demeanor. He didn’t have to be told that Yunsu knew. The
hurt in his brother’s face told him everything…told him
Yunsu had seen everything.
Now he could only
apologize and hope for forgiveness.
“You knew I was in love
with him.” Yunsu rubbed at his face, trying to erase the
image of Bae kissing the black-draped young man from his
mind. Dropping his hands, he stared out of the bank of
windows overlooking the city. His tears reflected back at
him, shining trails rolling down his cheeks. “You knew that.
You knew I loved him.”
“No, brother. You fell
in love with a face,” Bae said, picking himself up from the
floor. “I fell in love with his soul.”
Crossing the space
between them, Bae hesitated before clasping Yunsu on the
shoulder. Turning his brother around, he expected resistance
but the younger vampire yielded easily, allowing himself to
be pressed gently against the glass.
“His name is Park
Jaemin,” Bae closed his eyes, needing for words to sink into
Yunsu’s heart. “And when I am with him, brother, I remember
what it’s like to dream.”
“I watch him as he takes
his first steps into a world that he thought he’d never
have. I was there when he took his first sip of chocolate,”
Bae laughed, remembering the first time he’d tasted the
delight. “It was as if lust crystallized on his tongue and
he was experiencing the lust of gods in his mouth. It
changed his face so much, that tiny little sip and I fell in
love right then and there.”
“Did you mean to?” Yunsu
asked tightly. The strain in his voice opened Bae’s eyes and
the other man ached when he saw the glitter of bloodstained
tears clinging to Yunsu’s lashes. “Did you mean to fall in
love with him? Or was it just a game?”
“It was supposed to be a
seduction,” Bae admitted. “A seduction to show you that you
didn’t need him and that he would fall for anyone but
instead, he seduced me. Tell me, brother, have you ever been
seduced by Innocence before?”
Yunsu’s lips pressed
into a thin line as he controlled his emotions, shoving them
back down under the surface of his thoughts. He took a deep
breath before answering. “No, I haven’t.”
“It’s like a butterfly
has fallen from the sky and wrapped its wings around your
whole body,” Bae whispered, staring past Yunsu’s beauty and
into the city, unconsciously looking for St. Barts amid the
bristle of buildings. “And then it flies off, leaving a
glittering powder all over your skin and you rub, hoping
that if by some miracle, you can rub it far enough into you,
you’ll grow wings yourself and be able to finally… fly.”
“Every second that I
spend with him brings another star into the pitch of my
night. I cannot wait to see the entire universe spread out
in front of us. I long to see the world through him. That’s
how I love him, Yunsu,” He sighed, resting his forehead
against the glass as his brother’s arms lifted to hug him.
“Can you say the same?”
“No,” Yunsu admitted
softly, brushing a kiss over his blood-brother’s temple. “I
will leave him to you, then. Just promise me that you’ll
make him happy.”
“I vow to make him as
happy as he makes me,” Bae said, feeling his brother’s heat
slip away as Yunsu let his embrace fall away. He said
nothing more, listening instead to the beat of his heart and
the rain begin to hit the glass as his blood brother closed
the door behind him, leaving Bae alone with his thoughts.
*
They lay against one
another, fitted into each other’s bodies, much like the
first time Bae approached Jaemin in the bibliothèque.
Nude, they explored with
slow, languid fingers and mouths, tasting every inch of
pleasure each other could offer. Shy at first, Min was
reluctant at first then grew bolder as he discovered he had
as much control over Bae’s release as the other had over
him. With the promise of moonlight threatening the canopy of
clouds banked against the windows, they laughed at ticklish
spots and moaned when an unknown spot proved to be
erotically charged under the bite of sharp teeth.
They tore at the sheets,
each needing more of one another. A purple jacquard throw
slithered to the ground, thrown aside as its spotted tassels
brushed against Bae’s bared nipples, scratching at his
tender skin. Min’s fingernails replaced the throw’s caress,
rolling the other man’s nubs back and forth under their
dulled edges.
“Just once more, love,”
Bae promised as he turned Jaemin over, sliding his oil-damp
fingers into the cleft of his body. “Then we’ll be like
this, forever joined.”
The young man arched,
rising up partially on his knees and pressing his chest
against the soft bedding, spreading himself open for Bae’s
intrusion. It would be their first time joining together and
his young lover burned trails of desire through Bae, each
unconscious sensual action bringing them both closer to
spilling. He would have to take his time, both in loving and
in changing the young man. It would be better for them both
if they found pleasure together.
The initial thrust was
short, just enough to stretch Min around him. They both
stopped, gasping and mewling as they fought not to pick up
the primal rhythm that rose to the surface of their minds,
their bodies twitching to fill the space between them.
Pushing in deeper, Bae gave Jaemin time to adjust to the
intrusion, feeling the young man gasp and twist under him.
Clasping his fingers over Min’s hand, he started to rock
into the curve of his lover’s heat, letting his desire ride
them both until Min caught fire with want.
Jaemin’s hips rose to
meet Bae’s thrust, his mouth open and begging, murmuring in
a forgotten language that his tongue seemed to speak while
his mind fled under the night sky. The push of Bae into him
both broke him apart and healed him, his heart faltering its
beat, drawing his breath in sharp as the pain in his chest
spread until his ribs screamed with ache.
“Now, baby,” Bae urged
his lover, placing his wrist under Min’s open mouth. “After
me. You will need to drink as deep as you can. Take as much
as you can into yourself. Feel me inside of you. Feel all of
me inside of you.”
Baring his fangs, Bae
dipped his head and closed over the pulsing line of Min’s
neck. Sinking in, he thrust again, burying himself as far
into his lover as he could. Gasping, Min’s body responded
and the drops of Bae’s blood already in his veins blossomed,
forcing his teeth to elongate. They grew, ripping and
shoving apart his gums, tightening the space between his
teeth and moving slightly forward. Drawn by the scent of
Bae’s skin a few inches in front of him, Jaemin reached and
bit, taking his first sip of sin and Bae’s blood.
They spiraled under the
night, the moon throwing its silver down on their bodies
from its perch in the sky. Min’s hand spread over the
window, running through the heat-induced dew their sex cast
on the glass. Bae’s fingers closed over his, intertwining as
the vampire took Jaemin over the edge of their spill, their
thrusts growing harder and deeper.
With Bae’s blood filling
his mouth, Min swallowed once and then filled himself again,
wanting to become everything he could for the man who
brought his heart to a thundering beat. The world’s shadows
deepened around him and colours began to emerge from the
black as his body changed, driving the light from Min’s
blood. Gasping, he cried out, his seed erupting from his sex
and soaking into the sheets as Bae’s release filled his
core, reaching into the parts of his body becoming alive
under his lover’s blood.
Together they lay,
breathing hard and letting their love bathe over them as the
night took Jaemin into her burnt velvet embrace and Bae
smiled, feeling his soul sing as its mate joined him.
*
The train clacked over
its thick steel wheels, following the long stretch of rails
towards Scotland. Bae had rented a lodge there, urged by
Min’s desire to see long-haired Highland cattle and hear the
keen of bagpipes in the air.
Enamoured by the
countryside, Jaemin leaned forward until his forehead
pressed up against the window of their sleeping car. Fluffy
sheep dotted the hills, white puffy clouds darting about
green rolling curves. A cairn jutted up over the horizon,
the kings’ grave a solemn sentry watching them past in
silent dignity. Min pointed in delight at a spread of
pheasants taking flight as the train approached, their long
golden tails trailing behind them, flashing in the sunlight.
“I would have taken you
to Paris and shown you the life there,” Bae muttered under
his breath after the fifth bouncing of sheep bounded across
the countryside to Min’s robust laughter. “But no, you want
to go to peat-bogged, heather fluffy hills instead.”
“It’ll be wonderful,”
Jaemin grinned, tucking away the furry cloth fox-doll Bae
had made for him in London. “I’ve always wanted to see the
castle where Lady Macbeth scrubbed the blood from her hands
and mourned the loss of her sanity. And haggis! I want to
try haggis!”
“I give you chocolate
and pomegranates and you want organ meat and turnips stuffed
in a cow’s stomach,”
Bae chuckled, listening
to his young lover’s agreeing murmur. Clearing his throat,
he drew out the waxed envelope he’d received from Yunsu.
He’d forwarded their plans to the other man’s home as
requested but a part of him ached anew at the thought of
being apart from his sometimes-friend, always-brother.
Opening the letter he’d tucked into his jacket, he re-read
Yunsu’s words.
“My beloved annoying
older brother,” Yunsu’s words started. I can see now what
you mean about love. I spent the evening thinking on your
words and discovered… a hole inside of my soul… a hole that
your little church mouse would never be able to fill.
And yes, I said your.
Don’t gloat. I am conceding that he is yours. I saw the
stars in your eyes when you spoke of him… the ones his
kisses caught aflame in you and I was jealous. I want
someone to look at me that way. I want someone to look that
way for me.”
Bae stopped, his
attention drawn up to stare at the geese filling the sky,
hoping he made an appropriate response. Jaemin’s light slap
on his thigh told him otherwise but the young man nodded
when he spotted Yunsu’s letter, motioning for his lover to
continue reading.
“Leave word for me at my
townhouse when you and your church mouse settle,” Yunsu
wrote. I’ll leave the house open so we’ll have someplace in
London to come to. I hope you and Jaemin know that you are
always welcome there for it’s your home as well.
“I leave you to find the
half of my own soul. I need my own stars, Choi Bae Jun. I
need to have the night filled with moonbeams and silver for
me as well. I know that. Thank you for showing me that. So
off I go, in search of my own love. I am envious of you
finding it first. But perhaps I will find it better? I can
only hope. Love to you and your beloved… Forever your
brother in both blood and heart, Lee Yunsu.”
“You’ll miss him,”
Jaemin whispered, touching his lover’s arm. “I wish he’d
come with us.”
“He couldn’t,” Bae said
with regret, folding the letter and tucking it away. “Yunsu
needs to find what he’s missing. He’ll come back. Huit
always does.”
“Heh, eight.” He
laughed, wrinkling his nose at Bae’s chagrined smile. “So
that’s why you’re Bae. Does that make me Nine?”
“No, pet,” Bae said, his
voice pitched low as his desire for his lover grew. “You are
One… my only One. There will be no one besides or after you.
Just you, Minku. Only you.”
The curtains of their
compartment door fluttered close with a twitch of Bae’s
fingers on the sash, shutting off the view to the outer
walkway. Tumbling his lover back, Bae moved the fox-doll
aside, placing it carefully on the other long upholstered
seat where it rested against the book of Korean fairy tales
Jaemin brought to read. It lay there, jet bead eyes
glittering as Bae began his eternity with his love, showing
Min each drop of starlight he brought to life in Bae’s
heart.
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