Mocking Jay Part 2 Sentences — Accepting.

The rain rattled low against the glass walls, a steady rhythm that filled the silence the demigod refused to break. It rolled down in silvery threads, cutting faint reflections of the two of them across the room — Daon pacing like a caged beast, and Baekhyun, the picture of indolence, draped over his velvet couch as though the world hadn't just burned itself raw outside.

He turned a page with the delicate care of someone handling something far more precious than paper (which, in truth, the transcript might as well be), thumb tracing the edge before his eyes flicked lazily upward. The light caught on the rings at his fingers, on the faint sheen of his skin.

"You'll wear a hole in my floor, darling." He was the first to speak, voice smooth and honeyed, just enough to slide beneath Daon's fury and catch. "And for what? A man who will already be dead before your little speech is finished?"

His gaze dipped back to the faded ink, though his lips curved, just slightly. There was a cruel kind of beauty in watching him like this — blood in his eyes, rain still clinging to his shoulders, the very air around him trembling with the weight of violence yet to be done. The vampire would never admit it, but it was rather... alluring.

"He doesn't need to see your eyes." He continued, quiet, almost kind. Almost. "You only say that because you want him to know it's you, that you're the one who gets to end him."

He finally looked up then, eyes gleaming under the flickering flames of the hearth.

"You always were sentimental like that. It's cute."

The low hum of the speakeasy thrummed through the dim light, neon glinting off the polished bar. Baekhyun’s hands hovered over the bottles, but Daon's presence, so annoyingly close, made it impossible to focus. He was busy mixing a rather cliché, yet fitting Bloody Mary at the unwanted customer's request, jaw clenched, fingers dancing over the bar with just a hint of aggression. The reason, of course, sat across the counter, a vexing grin plastered across their face.

When the god leaned in, one hand gripping Baekhyun's chin and forcing his gaze upward, Baekhyun snapped instantly, the heat in his voice matching the flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Keep pushing me, see what happen." Crimson hues flared briefly in his eyes, glittering with dangerous amusement. "I have no problem killing you just because I feel like it. Besides..." He jerked his head slightly, forcing a smirk that was all teeth and sharp edges, "...you are an absolute pain in my ass."

He leaned back just enough to reclaim his space behind the bar, still close enough for Daon to feel the warning in every syllable. "Might just add another drop of love potion to your drink, sweetheart." Baekhyun added, a scoff escaping his lips as he cast a sardonic smile over his shoulder, recalling their last encounter.

Baekhyun and Daon wearing each other's clothes — ▲

The apartment smelled faintly of incense and old books, a contrast to the chaos of the city outside. The low light from a single lamp painted the space in honey-gold, catching on the edges of scattered sketchbooks, the glass of half-emptied wine, the small clutter Baekhyun never quite got around to tidying.

Daon had made himself comfortable on the arm of Baekhyun's couch, broad frame encased in Baekhyun's fitted jacket. The seams strained a little at his shoulders, fabric hugging close, but he wore it with effortless arrogance, like it had been designed for him alone. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, tracking the smaller vampire as if every twitch of annoyance was a show put on just for him.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun was drowning in one of Daon's black shirts. The collar slipped just enough to explose his collarbone, sleeves hanging heavy past his fingertips. He tugged at it irritably, rolling the fabric between pale fingers as if he could shrink it to his size by sheer stubbornness.

"You're enjoying this far too much." He huffed out, giving the other a withering look that only earned him a triumphant grin in return.

Daon tilted his head, lips curving in a shape that had the vampire curling his fingers into a fist as restraint. "Hard not to, pup. You look like my clothes are eating you alive." His laugh was low, reverberating in the quiet space.

Baekhyun's jaw tightened, but his eyes gleamed with a heat that betrayed him. He adjusted the shirt again, chin lifting in defiance. "And you look like my jacket is begging for mercy. Doesn't quite fit, does it?"

Baekhyun let his head fall back against the wall, a sigh escaping his lips heavy with annoyance and amusement. "You think of me as a trophy to claim as your own?" He echoed, tone light as silk, laced with mockery. "I'm no prize, Daon. Never have been. Never will be." A smirk curves at the edge of his lips as his gaze slid lazily up to meet crimson eyes, deliberately unbothered by the weight of Daon's hold.

Instead of struggling, he shifted. The smallest roll of his hips brought his thigh sliding between the taller's, pressing close enough to test the lines of his composure. It was a slow, taunting movement, not desperate but intentional — an indulgence designed to turn the cage into a game. His breath ghosted against the other's mouth as he leaned in closer, the curl of his lips a quiet promise.

"You want to pin me?" Baekhyun murmured, the words grazing Daon's skin as though they belonged there. "Then you should be ready for what I'll do with the space you leave me."

Before the demigod could twist it back into one of his smug grins, Baekhyun turned his head sharply, lips grazing the curve of his throat in a fleeting brush of intimacy. Then fangs sank deep into delicious flesh. The bite was precise, unapologetic, his thigh pressing firmer in tandem with the puncture as though claiming his own leverage in the stalemate.

Blood blossomed warm against his tongue, thrilling and electric, and Baekhyun exhaled a low sound that was half-laugh, half-growl, vibrating against Daon's skin. He lingered long enough to savor, to remind the god spawn that desire and defiance could bleed together. When he finally drew back, his mouth stained red, his smile was pure provocation.