「 boy, i wanna taste you
i wanna skin you with my tongue
i'm gonna kill you
i'm gonna lay you in the ground 」

meg myers; desire

✩ s a n ✩

It was a nightmare, it had to be a nightmare.

But why did the cold hands on his skin feel so real? Why the did painful cry that stumbled over each other, on their way out between his sore lips, hurt so bad that it made his entire body tremble?

"I have had enough of cleaning up your mess!" the deep voice growled at him, and the eyes that glared at him were burning with the flames from Hell. "You devil child!"

He couldn't move, couldn't even speak - every part of him was paralyzed by the pain, the scorching pain that left disgusting marks on his fragile skin.

"Admit what you have done, San!"

Tears fell from his eyes, warm tears of pure agony - streaming down his cheeks, as rivers of the words that couldn't leave his lips. A war had started in his mind, he wanted to confess - but he didn't know how, because how could he admit to something he knew he didn't do?

The room was dark, and he felt trapped on the floor between the old, heavy furniture. The only light was from the flames of the fireplace, and from that one thing he feared the most - there it was again, clenched in the terrifying hand of his father, staring at San with its evil, glowing eye.

"It... It wasn't me..." San cried, with a voice that felt even smaller than the rest of him, in that horrifying moment. "I-it was Seonghwa... I-I wasn't even there..."

He told the truth, but no one believed him - and in his bewildered state he made the mistake of looking up, but he was immediately forced back down by a hard slap on his already burning cheek. His father towered over him, anger shooting from his eyes.

"Don't you dare lying to me, boy!" the deep voice yelled, every word pelting down over him. "Not only are you a filthy sinner, but a liar too? You are a disgrace!"

It was like fire spreading all over his body, like falling straight into the depths of Hell, when another mark was branded into his skin. And he cried, so much he thought he'd never stop - not until he was left all empty and dry, and dead on the floor.

The roaring voice rammed through his ears, and he had only one thought left inside his mind.

This was it, this was how he was going to die...

~

San woke up with a loud gasp, bewildered and his heart racing in his chest. Sweat was rolling down his face, his entire body actually, and he tossed around on the bed - getting caught in the sheets in his state of confusion.

Next to him, still sleeping so peacefully was Hongjoong - and suddenly something else popped the question of having just been a dream. But it wasn't, it was real. Hongjoong had kissed him last night.

The morning sun stroked the golden hair, and down Hongjoong's cheeks, as he stayed asleep despite San's sudden movements. Red marks down the fair skin, revealed what had happened after the kiss, and San smirked to himself as he quietly got out of bed.

He stumbled out into the living room. It was only around 7AM, but he needed something to calm his nerves, and when he found a cheap bottle of Whiskey on the kitchen counter he thought it would be better than nothing, at least.

The glass in his hand was easier to miss than actually pour the Whiskey into, as his body was going wild against his own will, and San cursed with every drop that fell onto the floor.

San should be bathing in the thrill of Hongjoong finally giving in to him, but his mind was somewhere else completely.

It was just a nightmare, it wasn't real. Right? He had had that certain nightmare before, but it had been years since the last time. So why did it happen now? Did his outburst of a confession last night trigger it or something? Even if the gruesome scene was just in his head, it felt so real, but he couldn't remember it to actually have happened.

He hadn't been lying about the marks - not all of them were made at the same time, and although he still remembered how most of them came to be, there was still some left that he couldn't pinpoint the origin of.

"Fuck this shit..." he mumbled, emptying the glass he had poured himself in one last sip.

The cheap liquor burned down his throat, and stung on his dry lips, but he didn't care. With a long sigh, he sat down on the couch - his fingers diving continuously into his hair while he tried to clear his thoughts.

Hongjoong's words had provoked him so unexpectedly that his own had just flown out of his mouth. He had kept those things silent for so many years now - so long that if it hadn't been for the scars on his body, he would've thought everything would've simply been a really bad nightmare.

He had sworn he would never talk about those memories again, and he had kept them in the darkest corner of his mind, where he could pretend it didn't affect him. But the memories were persistent, and even though he told himself he didn't care - they had started to spread their poison to the rest of his mind. Slowly, but steadily.

But it was never in the cards that he should end up telling it to some stripper he didn't even know that well - nor cared about at all. San bit into his lip, with a frown on his face. He hated how he had opened up like that, it was so unlike of him, but it did turn out to his own advantage so maybe he shouldn't feel such regret after all.

Now, Hongjoong had finally taken a crucial step into San's deadly web - ready to be devoured. San smirked to himself, as he leaned back in that ugly, old couch. As soon as he had taken Hongjoong down, it would be Seonghwa's turn - but his older brother would have something way worse coming, than just having his heart torn out.

But first, it was time for San to play his cards right - to make Hongjoong fall in love with him. The payback had been long, way longer than San was used to - but maybe that was the reason he kept going, it was all so new and exciting, and he knew it would be worth it in the end.

And Choi San did love a good challenge.

San had never learned what love really was. Power and wealth were the core values in the Choi family, and nothing else mattered - everything else were simply seen as a weakness, and should be punished. And so, San had grown up to become the cold, heartless person he was today - but that didn't mean he couldn't sugarcoat himself, if that was what it took for him to get exactly what he wanted.

"Good morning..." a soft voice suddenly mumbled from the door, and San turned his head by the sound of it.

Hongjoong had woken up, and was walked out the bedroom, rubbing his eyes - his hair all curly and messy. He had put on his underwear, and a very oversized white shirt that revealed his skin at all the right places. He looked so absolutely fuckable that San had to do his best to control himself at the sight, but he instantly felt how heat was streaming through his body. Hongjoong's cute smile was as bright as the sunlight shining through the windows, and it instantly led San's mind away from the darkness that was about to consume his every thought.

"Good morning," he hummed back, reaching his hand out towards Hongjoong.

As soon as their hands met, San pulled Hongjoong down to sit over his lap - instantly feeling his almost naked body all over. Hongjoong elegantly wrapped his arms around San's neck, and their lips kept brushing against each other, making San as impatient as ever. Hongjoong briefly frowned by the smell of alcohol from San's breath, but he didn't say anything about it.

Instead he leaned in, at the very same time as San couldn't hold himself back any longer either. Their tongues met only seconds after their lips had touched, swirled around each other and left almost not time for breathing. Hongjoong's lip were so soft, and his tongue almost even more - and when he moaned so sweetly into San's mouth, everything just merged into a big blur around them.

San took his time, tracing every part of Hongjoong's mouth with his tongue, while his hands were slowly dragging the white shirt off the slender shoulders. With a firm grip around the petite waist, San flipped Hongjoong to lie under him on the couch - their lips still locked to each other.

Hongjoong's lips tasted like the sweetest nectar - something so addicted and wonderful that nothing else could possibly compare.

But most importantly.

They tasted like victory.