#chae bae

             Dust settled in your bones as you unpacked boxes in the living area of your new house, the layout open, making the home look far bigger than it actually was. Eyes traveling over the furnishings, you found yourself with a bittersweet taste in your mouth. You remembered that moving out on your own represented independence and new opportunities, it also shed light on the things that life had ripped from you—the very things that pushed you to move in the first place. In the dust and peeking sun rays that dotted the tops of marked boxes your memories were written; forcing you to take a moment’s pause.

              He had run into the arms of someone else as if he had loved them all his life, crushing your heart beneath his heel. You could have strangled him to death for what he had done to you, but despite the pain he caused you and the knife he put in your back, you still kept his clothes and smelled them while you sobbed as if you were in grief of a wondrous love lost. He was poison, but damn did the apple taste so sweet. He had another heart to mangle, and you were left with no one. You felt utterly alone, and regardless of your best friend telling you that you were a ‘catch’ and that they would help you ‘get back out there’, you still felt the pangs of hopelessness tug on your broken heart.

              Sighing, you dropped down into your floor and leaned against the couch, your legs crisscrossing comfortably. The wind pushed from you, and particles burst from the vintage cushions, the sofa groaning as if it were commiserating with you. You couldn’t allow yourself to wallow. What good did it do? None. What would it heal? Nothing. Perhaps you should take your friend’s advice and get back out there—but where would you go?

              A club had been suggested, only about a half hour train ride from where you lived, but the notion made you laugh. It wasn’t that you were against clubs, it’s just that you weren’t exactly up to the task of being thrust into such a physical environment. Truth be told, you weren’t exactly the club-goer, and when you thought of awkwardly gyrating on the dance floor, you wanted to facepalm. If you were already embarrassed of yourself, how did you expect to manage actually doing it?  

              Your phone chiming broke your concentration, and you quickly picked it up, secretly hoping it was a Snap from your bestie, goading you into attending tonight—but what you got was a social media notification…for him. You had forgotten that you had tapped that bell, that every time he posted, you were going to see it—and there they were, arm in arm, lips close and eyes lovingly focused on one another. You could have crushed your phone, a tear rolling down your cheek. Anger became you, and you quickly unfollowed him, closing your phone before dropping it onto the couch behind you. Forcing air from your nose, you cracked—

“You know what? Fuck it. Let’s go.”

                                                    ***************

              The night was cold, and with you scantily dressed, the warm color of the pink neon was doing nothing to stop the chill of your exposed skin. You walked down the sidewalk towards the blacked-out doors of club ₩onder, your best friend by your side, stumbling a bit as they fixed their makeup in a compact; and you found yourself curious of where they were going to stash it, sure it would leave an odd shape in those spandex hot-pants. Honestly, the thought of it gave you a much-needed laugh.

              Prodding you because you were laughing, they knocked against your arm and smiled wide, locking fingers with you to pull you along, quickly moving into the line. Glancing to the other patrons, you felt immediately out of place. Black leather, lace, and chokers galore, you swore you had stumbled onto the Gothic underground. Honestly, you weren’t dressed badly, but you felt like you should have been warned so that you could have worn black and blended in—no one likes to stick out because they’re one blue smudge in a sea of ash.

              “You should have told me it was a bondage club, I would have dressed the part.” You whispered to your companion, leaning close to them, your ass perked and back arched, catching the attention of the bouncer, who did his part to move the line along.

              “₩onder is not a bondage club, it’s…artistic.” Your friend said, waving a hand.

              “There’s literally someone in a leather puppy mask, and another with a horse tail butt plug.” You gestured towards a few people not far up in the line from where you stood. Honestly, the horse tail had you mesmerized, but you found yourself wondering if they straightened, or brushed it. It looked so soft as it moved, perfectly contrasting the rubber tail of the puppy a few spots further up the line. Said puppy was on all fours, moving their hips back and forth obediently, making their tail wag, as their master gripped a leather leash and gently pet their snout, making cute little sounds pour from their lips. A part of you found it oddly cute, and you might have smiled, but you couldn’t shake the scene.

              “Come on. Keep an open mind!” Your bestie said, swatting at your arm playfully, before winking, “—or would you rather go home to your vibrator?”

              “Hey, don’t bring Kai into this!” You could have put them in a headlock, but someone here might have taken it the wrong way. They just deserved a punch for saying something like that out loud. So embarrassing–you might have been blushing, but your layers of makeup saw to it that it didn’t see the light of day.

              “I can’t believe you named it that.” They rolled their eyes so dramatically that you swore you heart them turn in their head, “You’re so sad.”

              You wrinkled your brows and shook your head, gesturing to the line and towards the club, though the volume of your voice didn’t raise. You didn’t want to call attention to yourself, “You are the one that is looking for love in a place like this—”

              “Oh, I’m not looking for love. Unless it’s thick, and deep…Mmf.” They said, running a hand down their front, giving a half-hearted, trashy body roll. You laughed behind your hand, but they didn’t stop there, moving their ass like a bitch scorned, “You should stop thinking about ‘marriage’ and ‘eternity’, and all that shit. Focus on the here and now.” Their fingers pointed to the ground before they made an obscene gesture, tongue in their cheek, “You need to get laid.”

              “Well, that’s your opinion—” Crossing your arms, you looked away, pretending to scan the place, mostly because you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It wasn’t that you were sensitive about your lack of recent carnal vocation, but rather because you felt like the odd one out for not jumping on the first cock you saw.

              “Mhm. The right one. Fill up your empty hole.” They twitched a finger back and forth, grinning from ear to ear.

              “Why are we friends?” You huffed.

              “Shut up, you love me.”

              The bouncer moved a hand from side to side, gesturing for you both to move forward. He was a tall man, and quite dense in muscle. His shirt was rather tight, and he seemed perpetually flexed, waiting for someone to pick a fight with him. There was a real masculinity that radiated from him that made you feel both safe and terribly insecure at the same time. Checking your IDs, he waved you in, taking a moment to roll his eyes down the line of your spines—and it sent uncomfortable shivers across your bare shoulders as you pushed into the place.

              Pulsing with rhythmic pop and dance music, ₩onder truly looked like an undulating mass of Gothic intrigue, the mass of people making it hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Trying to get into the swing of the place, you wound through people, keeping as close to your friend as you could, heading for the bar. Looking over the drink list, you wrinkled your brows—they were all named after blood types and the like.

              Glancing to your companion, who had already ordered and was smelling their drink curiously, you assumed it was just witty word play, and ordered a “O+ Passion”, which was handed to you in a crystal glass, and was as deep red as the night was black. You sniffed at the rim of the glass, the copper bloom of the liquor filling your nose, making your eyes water. What the hell. Taking a drink, you immediately spit it back into the glass, trying to do so behind your hand so as not to offend anyone, especially the bartender.

              You felt as if the liquid had stained your teeth, so you licked furiously at them, feeling as if a film had been permanently placed atop your canines. What an odd drink. Turning to the dance floor, you glanced up to make sure no one had seen you—and over the crowd, from the front of the room, eyes like pale-blue, lavender ice gripped you, cutting straight to your heart. Plush tiers of rose down, and porcelain skin held your gaze, making you shake where you stood—you were lucky you hadn’t dropped your drink in awe.

              He must have been many meters from you, across the dance floor, but he felt like he was standing right in front of you. Seated in a baroque style throne atop a pedestal, white yet reflecting pink from the lights of the club, he exuded power and dominant sensuality. His legs were as long as you could see, and his arms matched, hands resting delicately, and fingers flexed. He was somehow the most dominantly severe and beautifully soft thing you had ever seen in your entire life. A fire lit within you, and suddenly, you needed to know him at the deepest parts of your soul—to have him fill you with all that he was, and use you as he liked; twist you into a gorgeous pretzel.

                                                     ***************

              On your knees in front of him, like King and peasant, your back arched, chest heaving as it begged for him, his energy having taken you over, as if his power was wrapping around your nerves and guiding them to act. You didn’t know how you got here—you didn’t remember walking to him, and you certainly couldn’t recall kneeling as if he were your king. You didn’t feel in control of your faculties, much less your own limbs, and when your lips peeled open, your primal desires dripped from your tongue.

              “Tell me…why are you here, mortal?” The male didn’t speak, not one word, but his voice was so loud in your mind that it made your ears ring. His eyes never left you, their intent obvious in the shift of color within their spreading iris.

              “I want you to take me…” You said aloud, and no one in the room seemed the wiser. Your friend, lost to the crowd, was bleeding from major pulse points, being fed on by multiple patrons who had ensnared them, their body shaking in orgasmic death, clawing for release on the dance floor, the sound of the music drowning out the sound of their voice.

              “You want to be mine? Hm?” His hand lifted, grazing the long earring in his left ear before trailing down over the layered lace choker he wore, the top a glinting silver that read “Appelle-Moi”, the necklaces beneath it falling down his chest, accentuating perfect skin as it dipped into a low shirt. The veining of his skin was like a sensual road map, and each time your eye caught sight of a new shade of blue, it trembled. Soaked.

               “Take me.” You whimpered, your lips remaining open as if held by strong fingers.

              “Obedient slave, I like that.” He nodded, and smiled, but his lips formed no shape, “…Call me ‘Master Hyungwon’. Say it.” He commanded, his mental tone deeper and quite a bit more even than before. You shook as you remained still, his lips peeling apart slowly, showing long fangs, making you quake with pleasure at just the sight. How had this happened to you? Kneeling and wet, you begged for him.

              “Master…Hyungwon…” You croaked.

              “Mmnn…Good…” He lifted his chin and raised an arm, pointing off towards a velvet covered doorway to the left of where his throne sat, “Go. Through there. Crawl.”

              “Yes, Master Hyungwon.”

                                                  ***************

              Hand fisted in what he could grip of your hair, bare hips forced against your tear-streaked face, your throat taking his cock as deep as it would as he face-fucked you, your nose hitting soft pubic hair with each strike of that thickened head to the depths of your slender esophagus. The glide made your throat bulge visibly, but he only pushed deeper, breathing heavily through his nose, thrusting himself harshly, the welcoming muscles enveloping him, making your eyes roll back in your head and your gag reflex act up.

              Snarling, he kept himself controlled, but his hips jerked back and forth several times vigorously before he pulled from your throat, saliva stringing from your mouth to his girth, the thick of the veined member bobbing in the dense air of the room. Staring down at you, he brought your face forward once more, rubbing the mushroomed, red head against the shape of your lips, swirling the glistening precum against your mouth.

              Your lids fluttered open at the feeling of that cock against your lips, a submissive expression taking you as you stared up at him, opening your mouth slowly, your tongue slipping forward to press to the thick underbelly of that girth, the tip flicking, silently begging for more. Hyungwon licked the expansive curvatures of his lips, bringing the hand that had once been in your hair forward, gently petting over your crown, “…Mm…so hungry…” He finally spoke aloud, though it was no more than a whisper, and as he watched you, his lean abdominal muscles flexed visibly, making you feel weak. Your hands ran down your thighs and you moved your head forward, that thick tip popping into your mouth, and he gave a moment’s pause just to watch you before gripping the back of your skull a second time, slamming his cock into your mouth once more, arching to keep it deep, “A-ahh…suck…harder.”

              You found yourself unable to defy him, even with the painful stretch of your throat nearly taking over your ability to breathe. His hips moving again, he would roll them, starting a slow, hard rhythm, grunting deeply from how you stimulated him. Picking up the pace, he snarled, gripping your hair a second time, this time harder than prior, fucking your throat as if he was a man starved. Your nails dug into your thighs and you tried to keep yourself stable, tears rolling over your cheekbones, the stretch nearly too much.

              “A-ah, I’m close. Yeah, just like that.” He groaned lewdly, his head tipping back and body tensing hard as he chased his orgasm, “Fuck…” Jerking his hips forward a handful more times until he slammed himself deep and stilled, shooting thick, immense, cum into that throat, against your nasal passage and second gag reflex, the white fluid forced from your nose, your throat spasming around his throbbing girth, which pulsed hard against your tongue.

              You closed your eyes tightly until he pulled back, popping free of your lips once more, cum flooding from your bottom lip, dripping from your chin and covering the bottom half of your face. You stared up at him, messy and broken in the most beautiful of ways, used by the vampire for his more carnal needs, you had somehow found yourself feeling far more alive. Staring up at him again, you knew that your pants were soaked from your own arousal, and you wiggled in your spot a bit, whining needily.

              Dropping a hand down, he would tip your chin up, staring at you, his fingers slicking with his own seed, though he kept your face level, staring down at you, “Mm…You listen so well. I’ll keep you around for a while…use you for blood…and sex…” He bit his lip slowly, letting his teeth drag from the plush of his bottom tier, “…you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

              You couldn’t help but nod, the sound of the club outside the curtains still pulsing with music, the other patrons none the wiser that your face had just been fucked senseless. Drowned in his power, you wanted him, and you wouldn’t dare think of leaving his side, or disobeying, so you merely answered, “Yes, Master Hyungwon. I would very much like that.”

              Dropping a hand, he would hook a finger in the choker you wore, pulling you up as if you were leashed. Staring into your eyes, he bore his teeth at you, and you could feel your blood pulse as if it were begging for him to drain you, and in many ways, it was. You knew he could so easily kill you—and one day, he just might. You swallowed hard, your throat moving against the finger that pressed against it. You had never felt more alive than with this undead King, never more full in heart and mind. He hissed through his teeth, hungry for more of you—every inch.

              “Alright…then together we shall become entwined, deep…

              …Into the night.”