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The trees blur around him, rough bark skimming his skin as he darts between them. The smolder of his burning town follows close behind, the air thickened by ash and smoke even as he puts distance between himself and the flames. The acidic burn claws at his throat and settles heavily on his tongue.
Sunoo’s eyes sting with unshed tears and his muscles ache from exertion. Hot, urgent adrenaline burns beneath his skin, clawing through veins and arteries, his heart hammering heavily in his chest. Fear threads itself through tense muscle and tightens around his throat, breathing becoming more difficult as he navigates through thick, overgrown brush.
His bare feet struggle to find purchase against earth recently moistened by rain and he fights to stay balanced as his soles sink into mud and moss. The air is cool against his bare legs, the thin shorts beneath the tunic he had been lounging in just ten minutes ago doing little to protect his skin from the autumn chill. Leaves cling to his calves, wet and curling, and his skin stings where twigs have torn shallow lines into it. Silent, hot tears streak down his cheeks, his lungs burning with each shallow gasp for air.
Screaming, distant, but not distant enough, echoes through the cloud-drenched forest. It was unexpected, a coordinated attack against his village at midday; still, the sun could not bear witness to the carnage. The gray canopy above swallows what little light remains, casting the forest in an endless twilight.
Smoke hangs heavy even where he runs, curling through the trees like pale fingers reaching for him, carrying the acrid scent of decay. Beneath it, faint but unmistakable, lingers the smell of burning flesh. His stomach lurches and he presses a trembling hand against his mouth, trying to muffle his sobs.
A hot, searing pain strikes him in the middle of his left thigh. He falls in surprise, his piercing cry swallowed by the damp earth beneath him. For a moment, the world narrows to that single, blinding ache, sharp and deep, radiating outward until his entire body is trembling.
When he looks down, his stomach twists with panic. An arrow juts from his flesh, teal feathered and slick with blood. The shaft quivers with each ragged breath he takes and heat flares beneath his skin, wrong and unnatural, spreading too fast, too painfully, until it feels like charring fire traveling his bloodways.
“Oh,” a deep voice chuckles from just beyond the brush in front of him. “I’ve caught a pretty one.”
Sunoo freezes, his breath faltering in his throat. A figure walks toward him, shrouded in smoke, though their dark, ember-stricken wings are enough to know their malevolent nature. Sunoo’s heart beats erratically in his chest as his fingers dig into the moss beneath him, trying to crawl backward, away from the progressing being.
“Tsk,” the ash-touched faerie in front of him says. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to leave?”
He can’t help but whimper as his movements send fresh agony shooting up his leg. His blood burns hotter now, the heat pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat from where the arrow continues to sit in his flesh. Sunoo’s vision blurs slightly and he continues to tremble.
The dark faerie walks toward Sunoo, his movements predatory, his bow resting at his side.
“D-don’t,” Sunoo forces out. “Don’t come near me.”
“I don’t think you’re in much position to tell me anything,” the man laughs. He pauses for a moment and cocks his head to the side before continuing, “It really is a shame that I have to kill you. You’re quite pretty for being sun-blessed.”
Sunoo bares his teeth in unbridled disgust, a mask for his terror. His body shakes, but he refuses to cower, glaring up at the faerie through a haze of pain and tears.
“Oh, little light,” the faerie mocks, “don’t you look scary. Your wings are so faint…what a terrible design flaw. A solar-powered being. Weak.”
Sunoo pulls his wings around himself, watching the faerie through their gold-dipped transparency. His magic isn’t as strong as it is when the sun is out, but it still hums faintly beneath his skin, a fragile, flickering warmth that refuses to die. He can feel it, flitting around like a trapped bird in his chest.
“Pathetic,” the dark faerie continues as he stalks forward.
Something warping and mortally incorrect warms his lower stomach, heat rising where there should be pain. The sensation is dizzying and invasive, his body reacting in ways that make no sense. Panic grips him as sharp, acidic desire twists in stomach. He grips the ground, trying to find stability. His breath hitches, shallow, erratic, and erotic, the air thick with the scent of smoke and damp earth. Every nerve feels wrong and the heat in his body burns with a cruel intelligence that isn’t his own.
The faerie tilts his head and smiles, slow and sharp, wings flexing behind him in a haze of ash and cinder.
“Ah,” he says cruelly. “There it is. The fire takes hold quickly, does it not?”
“What did you do to me?” Sunoo pants, clutching his stomach.
“It won’t be too long now,” he responds, cocking his head to the side in evaluation.
“Make it stop,” Sunoo moans in a confusing mix of pain and soured pleasure. “I haven’t done anything…”
“You’ve done plenty by existing,” the faerie laughs. “You want the pain to stop, little light?”
Sunoo nods pathetically, drowning in the pain and waves of euphoria.
“I could help, I suppose,” he says, moving closer. “I’ve always wanted to fuck somebody blessed by the sun.”
“W-wait,” Sunoo panics, fingers sinking into the moss beneath him. “No…I don’t…”
“The fire in your veins,” the faerie sighs, annoyance lacing his tone. “Only my touch will satisfy you. I look forward to holding you down.”
The man crouches directly in front of Sunoo and reaches his hand out. A rough, calloused finger drags down the soft skin of his cheek. Sunoo jerks away and tries to put space between the two of them.
“You won’t be able to stop me, weak little thing.”
His body heavy with exhaustion and agony, Sunoo twists himself and tries to crawl away. Every use of muscle sends white-hot pain lancing through his thigh, the arrow grinding against bone. He chokes on a cry, dragging himself forward through the mud and moss, his palms slipping in the wet earth. The forest spins but he keeps moving, desperate, instinct driving him even as his strength fades.
A rough hand curls around his ankle, yanking him back through the mud. Sunoo gasps, his nails scraping uselessly against the slick earth as he’s dragged toward the dark faerie. He wriggles futilely, twisting and turning his body, his feet kicking wildly, though weakly, at the being behind him.
The faerie laughs, low and cruel, so close that Sunoo can feel the warmth of his breath against his calf. “Still fighting? This is going to be fun; I love a good struggle.”
No sunlight peeks through the clouds, his magic ebbing in the forest’s dimness. The faint glow along the veins of his wings flickers, then fades almost entirely, leaving only the faintest trace of gold, like dying embers in the dark.
“Please,” he begs to nobody. “Please, please, please.”
He clenches his eyes shut and focuses on the subtle, dying magic resting at his core. That faint hum, that warm, rhythmic vibration that tethers him to the sun. It flickers faintly beneath his ribs, a thread coiled loosely there. The forest seems to breathe with him as he pulls at the golden thread, a final pulse of power flickering through him like the last breath of sunlight before dusk. He can feel the boundary, the thin veil where the faerie realm frays and the mundane begins, pressing against him, a membrane of cold, humming pressure.
Sunoo digs deeper, pulling at the thread as hard as he can. The thread unravels violently this time, spilling light through his veins until his body trembles with the force of it. The air around him shudders and the forest bends in protest, leaves rising in a spiral of wind and ash. The dark faerie staggers back, wings flaring as the light spills from Sunoo’s chest, gilding the mist in molten gold.
“What are you doing?” The faerie demands.
Sunoo ignores him and continues to pull at the magic within him, stretching it to its limits, until it is almost painful, the thread at his core no longer spooled.
“Stop!” The faerie lunges forward, but his hand doesn’t get the chance to contact Sunoo’s skin.
The light engulfs him. It burns, it blinds, and then it’s gone.
The air goes cold and the ground beneath him shifts. The scent of ash and iron vanishes, replaced by the clean smell of rain and freshly dampened earth. The color drains from the sky until only gray remains once again.
Sunoo collapses forward, his body limp, his magic flickering out in his veins. He’s through.
When he finally exhales, it’s with a body-shuddering sob. His fingers dig into the soft ground, as if to prove to himself that the earth is real, that he’s still breathing. The world feels heavier, denser, here, the constant hum of the faerie realm glaringly absent; the forest is still and quiet aside from his heavy breathing.
His thigh continues to throb painfully where the arrow is embedded in his flesh. He hisses through his teeth, the pain cutting sharp and immediate through the haze of exhaustion. His trembling hand reaches down, his fingers gently brushing the wound there. The arrow’s shaft still juts from his thigh, slick and dark in the muted light. Every movement sends fire racing through him. It only distracts him briefly from the acidic arousal stirring in his lower stomach.
Sunoo swallows hard, biting back another sob. The world around him remains indifferent; there is no answering hum of magic to dull the agony, no golden warmth to knit his wounds. There are only the chill of mid-autumn and the dull ache of mortal gravity pressing him down.
His vision wavers, black dots swarming at the edges as the pain deepens, each heartbeat pumping more poison through his veins. He knows he must remove the arrow, but the thought of touching it makes his stomach twist.
With a sharp, unsteady breath, Sunoo wraps his trembling fingers around the slick wood and pauses. He closes his eyes, focusing on the forest’s sighing, on its leaves rustling in the cool breeze, the soft trickle of a nearby stream. He focuses on the way the forest breathes with him, its soft movements in rhythm with his exhales.
“One,” he whispers to himself, voice trembling. “Two…three—”
He pulls.
His scream, ragged and raw, echoes through the quiet forest. The pain is white-hot and blinding, searing through him, molten. He clutches the arrow in his hand as he collapses sideways, panting. He brings the arrow to his nose and smells the crimson-laden arrowhead. There, beneath the copper of fresh blood, settles something herbaceous and almost sickly in its sweetness. A hot, frustrated tear crawls down the cold skin of his cheek.
Iridescent Lace. A deceptively beautiful name for a deadly flower, a fae blossom that blooms where fae blood and earth meet. Its nectar burns through the body from the inside out, sweet and fatal, a poison masquerading as pleasure.
His arms feel heavy, and his fingers numb, the arrow slipping from his hand and landing soundlessly beside him. He presses a trembling hand to the open wound on his thigh, trying uselessly to staunch the bleeding.
The world begins to slip away from him in fragments, first sound, then light. The forest, once sharp, softens at the edges, becoming a blur of color and shape. His heartbeat thrums in his ears, the only sound clear to him, slowing with each breath that he takes. The pain in his thigh ebbs, seeming to be further from him. He breathes in shakily.
“Not here,” he whispers, a plea to the forest. “Not like this.”
He falls to the side, his body hitting the moss-covered ground with a dull sound. The impact barely registers; his limbs lie heavily, his mind floating somewhere between waking and the pull of darkness. The world tilts, shadows stretching and folding in on themselves. His fingers twitch once, curling weakly into the earth before going still. The scent of soil fills his lungs, rich and cool, and for a fleeting moment it feels almost comforting, something solid to anchor him as everything else falls apart.
Then nothing.
When he wakes, the light is different, and the forest is quiet but not empty. His body feels heavy, weighted by exhaustion, but the air around him carries the faintest scent of pine and warmed sugar, calming and promising. He inhales and sighs softly.
“Is he breathing?” a voice murmurs nearby.
“Barely,” another replies. A warm, soft hand rests against his forehead and he shifts slightly, that dangerous warmth swelling in his stomach at the light touch. “He’s burning up. He might be poisoned—he smells…wrong.”
“Jay,” the voice attached to the hand on his forehead says, “we can’t leave him here like this.”
“I know,” Jay responds. “But he’s not from here. He reeks of magic and flame; he could be dangerous.”
“We could bring him—”
“We shouldn’t move him,” Jay interrupts. “Moving him might make it worse.”
Sunoo’s lashes flutter. He blinks slowly, disoriented. The world comes into focus, and he sees two figures crouched beside him. One with dark, waved hair and eyes that flash gold in the dim light; the other older, broader, arms crossed, a furrow in his brow that looks more worry than anger—Jay. His eyes meet of the older boy’s, a spark igniting in his chest. The spark is small at first, something akin to recognition, but its warmth cuts through the fog that clouds his head. His gaze holds him there, steady and unyielding, and Sunoo can’t look away.
“Hey,” Jay says, breaking the tense silence. “You’re awake.”
Sunoo nods weakly and tries to speak, but his throat is dry and all he can produce is a weak whimper as the younger boy’s hand moves from his forehead and lands lightly at his shoulder.
“Jungwon, careful,” Jay says, moving to kneel at Sunoo’s other side.
“Don’t move,” Jungwon says quietly. His voice is soft but firm, threaded with something protective. “You’ll make it worse.”
Sunoo blinks at him, taking in the faint gold ring around his irises, the quiet authority in his tone despite his youth. The boy is certainly around his age, yet there’s something decidedly ancient in the way he watches, assessing without cruelty.
“It hurts,” Sunoo manages, skin warming under the attention of the two young men. “Please…”
Please don’t hurt me.
Please help me.
Please touch me.
He looks at Jay, meeting his steady gaze again. He feels familiar and he wants to trust him, though Sunoo can’t explain why. There’s a pull, a magnetism, a desire to be close to him, to be held by him. He can feel it at his empty core, where his magic had rested, that urge for proximity. It feels so natural that Sunoo almost forgets that he’s under the influence of an ancient poison.
Jay’s name sits on the edge of his tongue, the syllable forming but never leaving his lips. The ache in his thigh throbs in time with the ache that’s taken root somewhere deeper, coiling low in his stomach. He tells himself it’s the poison, that the heat spreading through him isn’t his own desire but the flower’s cruel trick.
“I know,” Jay says sympathetically, reaching down to brush stray hair from Sunoo’s vision, the soft pads of his fingers dragging across his skin.
He moans softly, a touch so innocent sending desirous sparks along his nerve endings. Jay’s light touch falters, pausing where their skin still connects. Sunoo can feel the electricity build there, can feel the small arcs traveling between their atoms.
Then the touch is gone. Jay stands and walks away from him, his arms crossed, and eyebrows furrowed in thought. He picks up the arrow Sunoo had discarded on the ground.
“Jungwon, come here,” he says as he looks at Sunoo evaluatively.
Sunoo locks eyes with Jungwon, who hesitates to move away from him. He squeezes Sunoo’s shoulder softly.
“I’ll be right back,” he says. “We’re not leaving you. I promise.”
Sunoo’s eyes water, Jungwon’s sincerity settling into his skin, hope peeking around the edges of his pain.
He rises at Jay’s call, though the movement is reluctant. Sunoo’s eyes track him until he’s standing beside Jay, who holds the arrow between two fingers, the blood-dark metal catching what little light filters through the canopy.
“It’s coated,” Jay says, sniffing it once. “Coated with something heavy. I can’t tell what it is, but it doesn’t smell good.”
“You can’t tell?” Jungwon asks in surprise. “Let me try.”
Jungwon leans over and sniffs at the arrowhead, his nose wrinkling in apparent disgust. “What the hell is that?”
“Iridescent Lace,” Sunoo says from where he’s propped himself back onto his elbows.
There’s a pause.
“It can’t be,” Jungwon says, confusion lacing his tone. “That stuff doesn’t actually exist.”
“It does,” Sunoo says. “In another realm.”
“You’re a faerie,” Jay states, his face difficult to read.
Jungwon’s head snaps toward Sunoo, eyes wide. “A faerie?” he repeats, as if testing the word against the air.
Sunoo swallows hard. His throat aches; even speaking feels like pulling glass through his lungs. “Was,” he manages. “I’m not sure I am anymore. I crossed over.”
Jay studies him in silence. The line between his brows deepens, but his voice stays even. “Crossed how?”
Sunoo’s gaze drops to the arrow still gleaming in Jay’s hand. “The light,” he whispers. “My magic tore a hole between worlds. I had to.”
Jungwon exchanges a quick look with Jay. “If he really came through the veil, that explains the smell,” he murmurs. “The scent of magic and ozone.”
Jay exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim light. “Great,” he mutters.
A dark and searing pain twists in Sunoo’s gut, like he’s been stabbed with something hot and jagged. His back hits the ground again as his muscles give out beneath him, his arms and legs contorting with sudden agony. If he makes a sound, he doesn’t hear it—the pain dulling the rest of his senses.
He registers fingers lacing with his own and the pain ebbs for a moment at the contact. He opens his eyes, wincing in the muted light, and sees Jungwon kneeling beside him. Jay stands close by, his gaze assessing.
“We have to help him,” Jungwon says, stroking the back of his hand with a thumb. “He…this…I won’t leave him here,” he finishes defiantly.
“I know,” Jay states gently. “But it won’t be easy. I don’t think you understand what we’re getting ourselves into right now.”
“It can’t be that hard,” Jungwon insists. “What? Do I have to suck the poison out? I can try that. Or is there an antidote I need to go find?”
Sunoo’s bottom lip quivers. Jungwon is full of youthful optimism, of naivety and purity, and saving Sunoo is going to take that from him. Guilt sours beneath his skin, joining the sickly desire that rests there.
Jay shakes his head and crouches by Sunoo, bracing one hand in the moss as he leans in.
“There’s no antidote,” Jay says. “There’s only one way to save somebody afflicted by this poison.”
He brings his hand up to Sunoo’s cheek, his touch soft, tender. Sunoo shivers, sparks of delicious warmth skittering across his skin. He can’t help the instinct to lean into the touch, a whimper, pathetic and needy, stuck in his throat.
“P-please,” Sunoo whispers. “I need…”
Images, invasive, lust-filled images, fill his mind’s eye: Jungwon, holding him close as he thrusts into him against the forest floor; Jay, pressing him down into the moss, his touch firm but gentle; his body pressed between the two men, filled.
“I…”
Sunoo can’t say it aloud. These needs, these lascivious wants, they’re colored by an indescribable feeling of safety and inexplicable attraction to the two men. Their touch, their gazes, they counter the effects of the poison, but they also scare him—there is a lingering understanding that this encounter is more than chance. The seemingly empty core where his magic had rested hums with a recognition he struggles to understand.
“What do you need?” Jungwon asks, his cat-like eyes sharp and searching.
Jay ignores him and leans closer, his breath visible in the air. “Can I kiss you?”
Sunoo’s eyes widen a fraction, but he barely needs to think before he’s nodding pathetically, tears hot at his waterline.
Jay’s lips are soft against his own, the kiss gentle and testing. Even so, desire sparks, demanding and clawing, in his lower stomach. He whimpers and wills his heavy arms to reach upward, trying to pull the man even closer to him.
There’s a soft huff of laughter against his lips and firm hands guide his arms back to the ground.
“It’s okay; don’t overexert yourself. We’ll take care of you,” Jay says.
Jay looks to where Jungwon still holds Sunoo’s hand, his eyes wide and lips parted. His eyes flash gold again as he takes in the scene in front of him. His gaze seems to follow the quickened rise and fall of Sunoo’s chest and the way his body has begun to tremble in the cool air. He scans his body until he’s found where Sunoo’s hardened desire presses against the thin material of what little clothing he’s wearing.
“This,” Jay starts, “is what saving him means.” He pauses. “I understand if you can’t do it.”
“I can!” Jungwon quickly responds, tightening his hold on Sunoo’s hand. “I-I want to. I can do it.”
“I don’t know much about this flower, but from what little I’ve heard, it’ll take time to purge it from his system,” Jay warns.
“I don’t care,” Jungwon says. “Tell me what to do.”
Sunoo’s heart skips a beat, squeezing with an indescribable feeling, at Jungwon’s persistent acceptance of what it will take to save his life. A foreign feeling of adoration washes over him, coating his veins in a mentholated chill, a welcomed contrast to the burning.
“Touch him,” Jay directs.
Jungwon hesitates for a moment, unable to decide where his touch is most needed.
“A-anywhere,” Sunoo offers. “Touch me anywhere. Please,” he begs weakly.
Jungwon nods, a determination settled into his features. His fingers skim along Sunoo’s exposed thighs, careful to avoid his wound. The featherlight touch sends a shiver along his spine, his body hyperaware of how close Jungwon is to his most intimate parts.
A soft hand caresses his face, pulling his attention away from Jungwon’s tentative touch. Jay’s eyes flash the same gold as Jungwon’s when their eyes meet.
“What are you guys?” Sunoo whispers.
“Shifters. Wolves,” he states. “Does that scare you?”
Sunoo shakes his head weakly. He knows it should scare him—histories of wolves tearing faeries apart in wartime, and the resulting creation of a separate plane of fae existence, running through his head—but he feels nothing but content under their palms. He feels familiarity and tenderness, absent of piercing teeth and cruel aberration.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” Jay warns, leaning so close that Sunoo can feel the warmth of his breath fanning his face.
Sunoo’s breathing is labored, the pain in his abdomen searing and ever-present, their soft, cautious touches and hesitation doing little to relieve the imminent fatality. He needs more, the desire pulsing through him demanding insistence, vigor, pleasure—release.
Sunoo reaches forward and pulls Jay into a heated kiss. His breath hitches as Jungwon’s fingers brush over his crotch, where his cock pushes against the delicate fabric of his tunic through useless shorts. He shivers, a product of pleasure and of the wet cold he’s found himself in.
“Should I…” Jungwon asks, uncertain, his hand hovering over him, mere molecules away from contact.
He whines when Jay pulls away and glances toward Jungwon.
“Yeah,” he says, a little breathless. “Like this,” he continues, reaching over and gently grasping him through his shorts.
Sunoo gasps and arches into his touch, his shoulders pushing into the small rocks and plush moss beneath him.
“You want me to take your shorts off?” Jay asks, stroking him firmly, the friction causing Sunoo’s body to squirm beneath his touch. “Want to feel my fingers wrapped around your skin?”
Sunoo nods enthusiastically, his thoughts dominated by need and lust, bucking his hips forward, chasing that delicious friction. He moans breathily, meeting Jay’s darkened eyes, drinking in the way they shimmer in the dim light.
“Woah,” Jungwon breathes. “You sound so pretty...”
Jay moves from beside Sunoo and positions himself between his legs. He takes Sunoo’s shorts off easily, wincing in sympathy when the cloth brushes over his wound, inspiring hot, pained tears. He runs his hand along Sunoo’s thigh appreciatively, his touch soft and doting.
Shame, sour and sharp, needles its way to his center, a pretty blush building along his chest and face. He pulls his knees toward each other, trying in vain to hide himself from them, embarrassed by his hardened cock resting against his stomach and the way his hole flutters against frigid air.
“Tsk,” Jay admonishes playfully. “Stop that,” he says as he continues to run gentle fingers along the inside of his thighs. “We’re going to see all of you, touch all of you, be inside of you. There’s no time for blushing, though you’re beautiful when you do.” He pauses. “Your skin is so fever-taken,” Jay remarks, pausing to press the back of his hand to the inside of Sunoo’s thigh.
“Please…” Sunoo begs, eyes stinging with fresh tears, “Please just help me. Please touch me, just…I don’t want to die,” he sobs.
Jungwon takes hold of his hand and begins to stroke the back of it when his thumb, slow and hypnotic. “You’re not going to die. Right, Jay? We’re going to do this right—we’re going to treat you right.”
Lying amongst twig, stone, and moss, surrounded by towering trees, fully exposed to the elements, his skin marred by mud, Sunoo is glad he’s unable to see himself. The mere thought of witnessing the visual consequences of this afternoon—of his fight for survival—is almost enough to distract him from the pain searing its way through his veins.
His head begins to swim, the image of Jay between his legs coming in and out of focus. The building ache in his abdomen is hot and aggressive in its arousal. He moans in pain, grasping desperately at the moist earth, trying to ground himself.
A gentle, though firm, hand wraps around his cock, stroking him slowly. The touch is electrifying, the contact easing the tension in his lower stomach.
“T-thank you,” Sunoo moans. “Please…”
Sunoo is suddenly very aware that he’s being watched, intently, by the two men. He can see the way they drink in every twitch of his body beneath Jay’s hands, hang on every moan and mumbled word.
The moist, cool air clings to his bare skin and seeps through thin clothing, but it does little to alleviate the fire coursing through him. Still, he shivers in the cold, trembling weakly, his strength dampened by the dropping temperatures. His moans are delivered through chattering teeth, and their shapes are made visible with each exhale.
“You’re so cold,” Jungwon says, concerned, running a warm hand along Sunoo’s exposed arm. “We need to get you warm. Can faeries freeze to death? They must, right?”
Jungwon pulls his sweatshirt up and over his head, revealing his toned body, built by movement and protein—a muscular build not often found among fae. Sunoo raises a hand; Jungwon stills beneath Sunoo’s fingertips as he skims along his exposed stomach appreciatively.
“So pretty,” Sunoo manages. “Jungwon…”
“Fuck,” he breathes. “I’m going to hold you for a little while, okay? We run warm.”
Sunoo nods weakly, allowing himself to be manhandled into another position. He’s seated now, his back leaning against Jungwon’s chest, who sits behind him, his legs bracketing his own.
“There we go,” Jungwon says, his breath hot against Sunoo’s neck.
Jungwon’s warm hands breach the bottom of his thin tunic, finding the bare skin of his stomach and chest. They roam, pressing gently into him, the pressure a delightful complement to Jay’s consistent, unrelenting movements.
He throws his head back into the warmth of Jungwon’s shoulder, sighing in pleasure, willing the sour burning in his lower stomach to die.
A soft kiss lands at his ear. “What’s your name?” Jungwon exhales. “You know ours, but we don’t know yours. It isn’t fair. What am I to call you?”
“Sunoo,” he says, head swimming.
“Such a pretty name,” Jungwon responds. “Don’t you think, Jay?”
Sunoo looks at Jay through hooded eyes. He looks deceptively put together, his windswept hair doing little to make him look disheveled. He isn’t sure when Jay did so, but the sleeves of his sweatshirt are pushed up to his elbows, the soft honey of his skin visible, his muscles flexing as his hand continues to move firmly along Sunoo’s cock. Sunoo’s eyes struggle to focus as they drift from his eyes to his lips.
“It is,” Jay says.
Even the way his lips forms words is pretty.
Sunoo gasps as Jay’s movements become quicker, his hand moving deftly along his cock. His eyes flash that mesmerizing, shimmering gold as Sunoo’s body begins to writhe beneath his hands.
Sunoo’s breathing quickens, building euphoria simmering beneath his skin as the acrid burn in his stomach softens at its edges. Still, a souring shame bleeds to the forefront; waves of cold shock his core at the realization that he’s about to come undone in front of these two men.
“W-wait,” Sunoo gasps. “Jay, wait. I’m going to—I need to—”
Jungwon wraps his arms around his front, effectively eliminating his ability to move; his attempts to reach forward, to push Jay’s hands away from him, are fruitless, as he struggles against firm biceps.
“Sunoo it’s alright,” Jungwon says softly into his ear.
“It’s not!” Sunoo cries, hot tears settling at his waterline. “It feels so—I can’t—”
“You want me to stop?” Jay asks, eyes never leaving Sunoo’s face. “If I stop, you’ll die.”
“But—”
“Sunoo, it’s okay. You can come,” Jay says gently. “We want you to. And I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stop. I don’t plan on stopping until your fever breaks.”
“I—”
Sunoo wants to keep arguing—he wants to break free from their hands, from their doting touches—but he knows there’s little that can be done. It’s tortuous, the thought that he’s met Jay and Jungwon under such dire circumstances. What would have been if they had met differently?
He closes his eyes, focusing on the overwhelming sensations his body is forced to withstand: the incessant throbbing and burn of the wound on his thigh; the sparks of pleasure of each pull of Jay’s hand; the toxic ebb and flow of the poison singeing his veins; the hollow echo at his core, the absence of his magic. His skin is sensitive to touch, and it feels as though Jungwon’s firm, definitive hold is all that’s keeping his body together.
“Okay,” Sunoo murmurs to himself. “It’s okay. This is okay,” he sighs in resignation.
“You’re doing so well, Sunoo,” Jay says. “Let’s get you through this. We can deal with everything else later, okay?”
Sunoo nods as his stomach continues to tense, the muscles there coiling tightly with impending release. He moans breathily, his hips moving to chase the pleasure.
When he comes, all sound ceases aside from the pounding of his own heart in his ears. There’s a moment of disembodiment—he’s weightless, his essence floating above himself, as though he were seated in the forest’s canopy. He’s called back to his body by the gentle stroke of a soft hand along his cheek.
His eyes flutter open.
“There you are,” Jay says softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Sunoo slurs. “So good…”
For a good moment, the burn of the poison is nearly missing, replaced by soft bliss, its edges blurred. He sighs, nuzzling his head back into Jungwon’s form, finding comfort in his warmth and solidity.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jungwon says, his tone that of endearment. “I can’t wait to take care of you.”
“Speaking of,” Jay interrupts. “I need to check on your thigh while you’re riding the high of release, okay? It’ll probably hurt.”
Sunoo nods lazily, made pliable by an immense sense of relief. Still, he gasps when Jay begins to gently prod at the wound.
“This doesn’t look good,” Jay frowns. “It’s so blackened.”
“What if we…” Jungwon trails off, making a physical gesture that Sunoo can’t see behind him.
“I don’t know if it’ll work,” Jay sighs. “But I don’t think we have much of a choice.”
Sunoo’s lower stomach begins to burn and twist again, the poison sparking dangerously where pleasure had rested, a forming desire that is demanding and sick in its wants. He moans in pain.
“Okay,” Jay says. “I’m going to clean your wound. If everything goes right, it shouldn’t hurt as much.”
Sunoo nods in understanding, wincing with the poison’s building, vengeful pain. He cries out in agony as his body is shifted so that he’s lying on his side, his head in Jungwon’s lap.
“This is going to feel weird,” Jay warns him, “but it’s all we have right now.”
Sunoo’s eyebrows draw together in confusion; before he can ask anything, a tongue drags along the edges of his wound. Jay is methodical as he explores every section of the wound with his tongue, even going so far as dipping into the puncture itself. He gasps, the feeling a confusing mix of pain and alleviation. As Jay leans back on his knees, there’s a subtle warmth at the site of his wound, as though it were gently repairing itself. It’s comforting and familiar to him, like the way his magic makes him feel.
“T-thank you,” Sunoo says softly, clutching at his stomach. “I…”
Jay offers a reassuring smile, his hands trembling slightly as he wipes his mouth and Jungwon runs gentle fingers through Sunoo’s hair.
“Let’s get you on your back,” Jay says.
The two men maneuver Sunoo onto his back, his head still lying in Jungwon’s lap. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of Jungwon continuing to run his fingers through his hair. His eyes open when he feels hands grazing his bottom.
Jay pauses, seeking confirmation in Sunoo’s eyes before proceeding.
“You’re doing great,” he murmurs, voice gentle and steady, hoping to anchor Sunoo in the midst of the discomfort.
He watches as Jay brings two fingers to his lips, slicking them with spit. His eyes never leave Sunoo’s as he attempts to breach his rim with a single finger. He can’t help but tense at the intrusion.
Jay sighs and crawls so that he’s over Sunoo’s prone form. He looks down at him, a small smile at his lips.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Jay warns.
Sunoo nods, his heartbeat thundering in his chest as anticipation coils tightly inside him. Jay lowers himself, their lips meeting in a slow, gentle kiss that feels both grounding and electric. For a moment, the pain and uncertainty fade away, replaced by the warmth of their connection. His lips taste faintly of copper, a remnant of Sunoo’s own blood.
“I need to open you up,” Jay says after a moment. “I need you as relaxed as possible, or it’ll be incredibly uncomfortable for you.”
He nods in understanding, drawing in a slow breath as he tries to loosen the tension in his body. Jungwon’s soothing touch along his scalp helps, grounding him as Jay proceeds with extra care, his movements gentle and deliberate.
He’s gasping as one finger turns into two, grasping at Jungwon’s forearms as Jay scissors his fingers, working Sunoo open. As intrusive as it is, as painful the stretch is, there’s an underlying current of pleasure.
“You’re doing so well,” Jungwon murmurs, fingers massaging Sunoo’s scalp.
Sunoo cries out when Jay introduces a third finger, the rhythm relentless as he pushes his fingers into him. His eyes water when Jay’s finger glides past a spot so pleasurable he sees stars.
“Stop,” Sunoo cries, “please…I want…”
Jay immediately slows, concern flickering across his face as he meets Sunoo’s gaze. He brushes a gentle hand over Sunoo’s cheek, offering reassurance.
“What do you need?” Jay asks.
“More,” Sunoo cries, sickening desire clawing its way through his chest. “I need you. I need more of you.”
Jay nods. “I can give you that.”
Jay strips himself of his sweatshirt and unbuttons his jeans with one hand, the other caressing Sunoo’s knee. He watches in awe as Jay pulls his hardened cock out of pants, its impressive length and girth visible even in dying light. There’s a momentary panic that he’s not prepared enough, that he’d never be prepared enough.
Jay spits in his hand, slowly lathering himself.
Sunoo’s breath quickens, heart pounding as anticipation builds between them. He reaches out, searching for Jay’s hand, needing the comfort and assurance of his grip. The air feels charged with the weight of their desire and the warmth of Jay’s unwavering presence.
Jay reaches forward and easily laces their fingers together. He hesitates for just a second, eyes meeting Sunoo’s in a silent exchange, likely recognizing the lust-filled fear flitting across Sunoo’s face. He squeezes Sunoo’s hand gently, grounding him and offering silent encouragement before moving closer, their breaths mingling in the stillness.
His eyes never leave Sunoo’s as he positions himself, the spit-slick, thick head of his cock pushing gently against Sunoo’s fluttering hole. He groans softly as he pushes further, his head catching on Sunoo’s rim slightly as he breaches his entrance.
“Oh,” Sunoo moans. “It’s not—”
“It is,” Jay assures him, squeezing his hand.
Jay pushes in until his hips are flush to Sunoo’s ass, breathing heavily as he steadies himself. Sparks, hot and jagged, dance in Sunoo’s lower stomach—panic devolving into erotic bliss. The flower’s poison continues to course through him, its velvety blaze slithering beneath his skin, but there’s relief in the connection between the two of them. His breathing is labored; he isn’t sure if it’s the poison’s progression or the intensity of the current moment.
“Breathe,” Jungwon reminds him. “You’re going to hyperventilate. We have to breathe slower.”
Jungwon places a warm hand on Sunoo’s chest; it rises and falls erratically, in perfect rhythm with Sunoo’s uncertain breaths. Jungwon breathes in through his nose and exhales through his parted lips, slowly.
“Like this,” Jungwon continues to model. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”
Sunoo tries to copy him, he tries desperately to slow his breathing, to slow his racing heart. Despite his best efforts, he’s still unable to catch his breath. His lungs burn, as though constricted by flame.
The poison, then.
“Jay,” Jungwon says, panic coloring his tone. “Jay, we need to move quicker.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Jay says.
“He’ll die if you don’t,” Jungwon reminds him, gently brushing Sunoo’s hair out of his eyes.
“Do it,” Sunoo gasps. “Please…”
Jay nods, shuttering his fear and letting determination take over, his eyebrows drawing together in concentration. The atmosphere is tense, thick with urgency and vulnerability, but he visibly steels himself for what needs to be done. His hands tremble as he moves so that he’s hovering over Sunoo, settling further between his legs, his forearms steady in the mud and moss that Sunoo lies upon.
Sunoo’s vision darkens around the edges when Jay rocks forward, burying himself as deeply as physically possible. He drinks in Jay’s heady groan as he slowly pulls out, just to snap his hips forward.
“You feel so good,” Jay moans. “You’re so beautiful. I’m so sorry…”
Sunoo gasps for breath, the lack of oxygen heightening the sensation of finally having Jay move inside of him, the closest their bodies can be. He reaches upward, wrapping his arms around Jay’s neck, his nails digging into firm muscle.
Each thrust pushes Sunoo into Jungwon, who continues to whisper encouragements and massage his scalp. The ground is soft beneath him, the slick sound of his lithe body gliding over wet earth mingling with the fervent pulse of skin against skin.
His stomach twists in building release, Jay’s moaning light and intoxicating in his ear.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Jay breathes. “I—fuck—you feel so right, so…”
A hot, overwhelmed tear breaks through Sunoo’s waterline, crawling down his cheek and threatening to freeze in the frigid air. Sunoo wants to scream, and, honestly, he would if he could inhale deep enough. Jay feels so inexplicably correct, as though he had been in Sunoo’s life for decades, not minutes. His touch is charged with something intangibly orange—vital and eternal.
Jay’s rhythm begins to stutter.
“I’m so close,” Jay pants.
Jay moves so that he’s seated back on his knees and pulls Sunoo’s body toward him, his ass supported by firm thighs. Jay drives into him with renewed vigor.
“Jay,” Sunoo manages to cry out. “Oh, Jay…”
The man groans and maneuvers Sunoo’s body so that he’s nearly in half, his muscles stretching uncomfortably. Sunoo moans, the heat festering beneath his skin fading with the intensity of his impending release.
“I wish you were ours,” Jay states, breathing heavily as he thrusts into Sunoo. “Mine.”
Sunoo can only lie there uselessly, his body driven into with unrelenting force as he struggles to breathe. Color and sound disappear when he comes, painting himself with his release. Seconds later he can feel the warmth of Jay’s come inside of him; he can feel the way his movements slow, the pacing purposeful and gentle.
“You’re doing such a good job,” Jay murmurs, the sound muffled.
The agony weaving itself through muscle and bone lessens with his orgasm, but he can feel his cock continue to twitch in antagonistic interest. His body shakes with exhaustion and cold, the water and mud on his body chilling in the autumnal breeze.
“Jungwon, it’s your turn,” Jay directs. “I can’t keep going.”
“O-okay,” Jungwon responds quickly.
There’s little fanfare as Jungwon gently places Sunoo’s head on the padded forest floor and moves to settle between his legs. He watches through hooded eyes as Jungwon just looks—at his abused hole, at the way come drips from him, at the way his body continues to tremor.
Jungwon looks to Jay. “Do I just…?”
“Yeah,” Jay says, settling beside Sunoo. “Do it. Save him.”
Jungwon’s hands shake as he shoves his pants down to his knees, which sink slightly into the soft forest floor. He lines up with Sunoo’s hole and pushes in slowly, though there’s little need for adjustment. Still, he’s gentle and observant, his eyes flitting across Sunoo’s face, searching for discomfort.
He sucks air in between his teeth as he easily slides in.
“You’re so warm,” he moans.
His movements are less precise than Jay’s had been, but full of purpose and stamina. As he moves, a hand leads Sunoo’s face to the side. There he sees Jay watching him, his hand stroking his softening cock.
“You’re gorgeous,” Jay speak softly. “Gorgeous and alive.”
Sunoo sighs softly, his breathing evening out with his latest orgasm. “T-thank you,” he croaks.
“Shh,” Jay responds. “Later. When you’re better.”
Sunoo looks between Jay’s come-slick cock and the soft smile at Jay’s lips.
“Let me…” he says, reaching a weak hand toward Jay’s cock.
“You don’t have to,” Jay says, a pout forming.
“I w-want to,” Sunoo gasps, a particularly hard thrust pushing him further into the dirt.
Jay moves closer so that his softening cock is closer to Sunoo’s open mouth. He taps the tip against Sunoo’s tongue a few times, letting Sunoo adjust to the taste of his own semen—salt and musk.
Sunoo sucks gently at the large head, wondering at the weight of it against his tongue. Jay’s moaning encourages him to continue what he’s doing, his tongue swirling and dipping into the slit. He nearly forgets that he’s still actively dying; the acidic sting of the Iridescent Lace searing its way through his bloodstream is nearly absent. In its place is a sense of euphoria and connection set amongst the sounds of moaning, his body giving pleasure to men he wishes he could know.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Jay breathes. “You’re going to get me hard again.”
Sunoo pouts, his body jostled by the brutal pace Jungwon is beginning to set. Seconds later, he’s writhing and begging for release, the forest absorbing his pleas.
This time, when he comes, it’s different—everything stops. There is no light, no sound, no movement. There are only unfettered darkness and deafening silence. He cannot feel the rise and fall of his chest or the chill that clings to his body. He feels hollow—weightless, bodiless, matterless.
When he comes to, Jay and Jungwon are leaning over him, their hands traveling his chest and neck, their conversation drenched in panic.
“His eyes are open!” Jungwon exclaims. “His eyes…he’s alive!”
Jay leans back on his knees, panting, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“What’s wrong?” Sunoo rasps. “What’s…why are you crying?”
He reaches out to Jay, who quickly clasps his hands with his own. “Your heart stopped beating. We thought…I thought…”
“He’s alive,” Jungwon repeats, leaning down so that his ear presses against Sunoo’s chest, chasing his heartbeat.
Sunoo’s muscles ache with exhaustion, his eyes fighting to stay open.
“Is it over?” Sunoo asks.
“Your fever’s broken,” Jay says. “I’m certain that can only be a good thing.”
“I’m so tired…” Sunoo says wearily, a shiver working its way through his body.
“Let’s bring him home,” Jungwon says. “We should be able to move him now, no?”
“I’ll carry him,” Jay states, stroking the back of Sunoo’s hand with his thumb.
The two men are gentle as they maneuver Sunoo’s body, moving as if they may bruise him, and it inspires a trusting warmth within him, something that glimmers where his magic had rested. If he focuses, he almost feels the whisper of golden thread spooling there.
He’s placed upon Jay’s back; he relishes in the way Jay’s muscles tighten and flex as he jogs through the forest, moving as though Sunoo weighs little more than a satchel of herbs. Time passes indeterminately, its progression slowed by the rhythm of passing trees and the glacial wind burning his face and blurring his sight.
By the time they reach a structure—a small, rustic cabin bordered by barren bushes—it was dark, the everlasting dusk snuffed out. As he’s brought inside, Jungwon quickly lights lanterns, illuminating the cozy interior. A couch, covered in fox furs, sits against one wall atop a bearskin rug. The table in the room, hand-carved, sits uncleaned, remnants of life—dishes, papers, and books—lying on its tabletop. The little room looks lived in and adored and Sunoo’s heart flutters being present in such an intimate space.
He’s taken to the bathing room, where a wooden tub sits surrounded by candles, which Jungwon takes time to light. He’s helped down from Jay’s back, who holds him upright as Jungwon heats water on the stove for Sunoo’s bath.
Jay helps Sunoo strip himself of ruined clothing, his thin, torn tunic falling to the bathing room floor as a feather would. He steps out of his shorts, embarrassed that the dried come has stiffened the fabric. Soon, he’s standing bare in front of Jay, his muddied, fluid-covered body on display. He knows he must look unsightly, ugly, pathetic.
He’s brought out of his thoughts as the bath is prepared, steaming and lilac-scented—an oil-based soap made by Jungwon himself, Jay tells him. Jay holds his hand to steady him as he steps into the wooden tub, sucking air in between his teeth as he sits in the water, half submerged. His body aches and the wound on his thigh is tender. Silent, hot tears roll down his cheeks.
“Shh,” Jay says, kneeling by the bath’s side. “You’re safe here.”
Jay cups his hands and gathers bathwater; he gently runs the water through Sunoo’s hair, wetting it. He does so until his hair is saturated, sitting a mess atop his head. Jay works shampoo through the dirty strands of his hair, lathering them thoroughly and gently scratching Sunoo’s scalp with blunt fingernails.
Sunoo sighs as Jay washes his hair, massages the tense muscles at his shoulders, and bathes him. There’s a spark of warmth within his chest, a familiar tingling akin to sunlight, as he’s taken care of by doting hands.
Jungwon enters the room with a fresh towel, first aid supplies, and a set of clothing—a shirt of Jay’s and a pair of pants from Jungwon. He’s toweled off by two sets of hands and Jungwon drops to his knees to disinfect and bandage the wound at his thigh.
“It looks like it worked,” Jungwon marvels, gently prodding the wound site. “It’s not nearly as black or tender.”
“Is your saliva magical?” Sunoo asks, his voice hoarse.
“I’ve only seen it work on pack members,” Jay answers. “And you.”
They all exist in silence for a few moments as Jungwon wraps a bandage around Sunoo’s thigh and helps him step into his pants. The air is heavy with questions, curiosity, and enigmatic attractions.
Jay leads him to the bedroom, where a large bed sits against the back wall, a buck’s pelt draped over thick knit blankets. He’s helped into the middle of the bed, Jay peeling back the blankets so that he’s able to slip under the covers.
“Jungwon and I are going to wash up, but we’ll be right back,” Jay assures him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
Sunoo nods quietly, fingers curling around the edge of the pelt as he watches them leave. The lingering warmth from Jay’s touch and Jungwon’s gentle care settles him, easing the ache in his body and the uncertainty in his mind.
Sunoo lies in the dim lantern-lit room, weighed down by pounds of blankets that chase away the late autumn chill that still seeks to stick to him. He’s surrounded by that comforting scent of pine and warmed sugar that had stuck out to him in the forest, drenched in its ease. Still, an encroaching panic finds purchase at the edges of his body: he has no home now; he seems to have severed his connection to his magic; and he’s alone in a world he’s never known.
He doesn’t realize that his breathing has quickened until soft, warm hands caress his face.
“What’s wrong?” Jungwon asks. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”
“I’m worried,” Sunoo whispers truthfully. “I’m so scared.”
Jungwon climbs into the bed beside him, pulling him into himself, his hold a grounding relief from the panic. Jay climbs into the bed on the other side so that Sunoo is right in the middle of them both. The quiet is gentle, the weight of their presence anchoring him as Jay’s hand finds his and Jungwon murmurs softly, promising they won’t let anything happen to him.
He can feel a weak flicker of warmth in the hollow part of his chest, where his magic resided—a small thread rebuilding itself.
“Can we sit in the sunlight tomorrow morning?” Sunoo asks quietly.
“Of course,” Jungwon says sleepily.
“Sunrise from our dooryard is incredible,” Jay murmurs. “You’ll love it.”
Their warmth seeps into his bones, chasing away the remnants of fear that linger in his chest, and for the first time since everything changed, Sunoo allows himself to close his eyes, feeling the fragile but real safety of not being alone.