No one returns from the temple. No one has seen inside and lived to talk about it. Now it's your turn, as the offering, to calm the beast inside. You chose the door, now you must live with your decision. This man, if that is indeed what he is, may well eat you up.
Warnings -
Violence, blood, biting, suggestive / sexual content
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Mist twirls around your ankles in an elaborate tango, whispering of longing as you tiptoe along the path laid out before you. Or rather the path of destruction you are being forced to trek tonight. You look over your shoulder, hesitating for a moment. They’re behind you but you can’t see them. The mist is too thick.
You can’t see them but there is no doubt that they’re there. After all it’s an obligation of those that prepare the offered one. Always the offered, not the chosen, never the sacrifice.
Although that is exactly what you are. They covered you in herbs and mud hoping to ward off the evil, hoping you’ll return to them. But a single “offering” has yet to return from the temple you are staring up at now. Has anyone come back to tell of what happens inside? Has anyone touched the cold stone walls, covered in moss and vines from years of neglect, and reappeared from the looming arched columns at the entrance?
A small sigh passes your lips. Not wanting to prolong this moment, you ascend, careful not to touch the flames that light up the hard stairs. Although, would it matter at this point? You are already damaged. Tainted.
Reaching the top of the stairs, you don’t bother to look back, passing into a great hall. The flames only sprinkle into this room, making it hard to make out which way you are meant to go. You decide to go straight, a slight hiss of air caressing your skin as you open the large stone door.
Walking in, you notice that it leads to another staircase, this one leading down. The moon shines above, illuminating the pebbled steps covered in moss that never seem to end. You start forward. This direction is as good as any.
The hike down becomes harder as you go, the reach of the moon's light thinning with each step travelled. By the time you reach the bottom, you are almost in complete darkness. The moss covered door causes you to struggle. Slamming your body against the cold surface, it finally swings free.
The room is encased in darkness, the dim light from the outside unable to illuminate the room's contents as you debate whether you should turn back and face the long trek back up those stairs. Before you decide, the room floods with light, fire burning every few feet in the torches before you. You swallow back your fear, closing the door behind you as you make your way further into the room.
The flames lead to the center of the vast room, a canopied bed draped in luscious materials that you are certain would be variants of silk. The bright maroons and whites shimmer in the dancing light the closer you get. Exotic symbols you don’t recognize pattern the fluttering material.
Movement.
You see something inside. Something behind the lace and silk. Something beckons you closer, as if you could turn around at any moment. As if you have anywhere to run.
You hesitate, your fingers lingering on the sleek material - and yes, it is silk - before you open the enchanting bedding.
The gasp that leaves your lips is stolen, almost as if you can see the exclamation, as the cold air picks it up and carries it away. The man before you is sprawled out, his eyes on yours, gingerly taking you in with a smile that could quiet all the seagulls by the ocean you so adore. Images of walking along that beach with him, in the darkness, the water lapping at your feet spring to mind as you get lost in his smile. This man’s smile could stop your heart if that’s what he wanted. And he just might.
You feel silk against your neck as the material settles. This is it then. This is the man who will be the end of you. You refuse to cry, to show any fear. Instead you jut out your chin and raise an eyebrow.
“Well?” You force the word out, your eyes on his.
“Well?”
“Go ahead.”
“With what exactly?”
“Go ahead and kill me,” you say, not allowing the quiver of fear that threatens to bubble to the surface out, continuing to stare into his deep brown eyes.
“Kill you?” He laughs. “Why would I kill you?”
“That’s what you do here, isn’t it? Kill virgins. Sacrifice them in an attempt to stay young and beautiful, to-”
“Attempt?” He runs a hand through his blue hair. The supernatural shade looks good enough to eat but you don’t bother to tell him there is no reason for him to attempt to look beautiful. You ignore the hurt in his eyes, looking down at the streets and deciding to stay silent until he continues. “I should be asking what it is you are doing here. This is my home, after all. You are the one who’s trespassing. How do I know you are not here to take something from me in an attempt to stay young?”
Looking back up there is a wisp of a smile on his lips, the light dancing in his eyes. “Are you messing with me? You like to play with your food?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Before you can respond, he has you pinned down beneath him, the supernatural speed of his movements taking your breath. His breath is hot against your lips as he bends down close. You inhale sharply. The scent of cinnamon and lemon, so strong that you can almost taste it, surrounds you as he swivels his hips to the left, leaning close to your ear.
“Don’t you want to play with me?”
The whispered words linger inside the room, swelling until they feel too large to ignore.
“I don’t want to play your stupid games. Just end it already.”
He chuckles, moving his hands up your arms. “Let all of yourself go. Leave it behind. Everything you know is a lie. I am the truth.”
A small gasp threatens to leave your lips as his knees spread your legs slightly. His hands massage your legs, leaving kisses up the inside of your thighs. Silver fingernails caress your skin, a grin on his lips as his eyes capture your own. He licks his lips, his eyes moving from your face to your legs.
“I want to go home.”
His head snaps up, his deep eyes finding yours once more. “But you are home. Don’t look back, the past is meaningless. You belong here.”
Nails trail across your sensitive flesh as his kisses start to become bites. Fire burns across your cheeks, within your stomach, and within your dampening core. You want him. You want him to continue as he lifts up your legs, placing them with gentle precision over his beautiful smooth shoulders and slips your panties off in one swift movement.
“Stop,” you pant, pushing back against him, trying to assemble any logical thought while pushing back the images of what you want this man to do to you. Things you had never thought of before. Things you didn’t even realize were possible. “I don’t belong to you. I don’t even know you.”
With a soft snicker, he continues to examine your body. “Who do you belong to if not me? You chose me.”
“What?” You untangle your legs and back up, feeling cramped against the wooden bed frame in an attempt to provide space between the two of you. The distance is physical only. He takes up the whole room. You breathe him in from every corner. Cinnamon and lemon. You wonder if he tastes the same.
“You could have chosen any path, but you chose this one. You came to me.”
Your eyes furrow for a moment before you realize what he means. The doors. You choose his door. “So,” you say, pulling your dress back down. “I chose you?”
“Mmmm.” That smile on his lips. He enjoys watching you struggle.
“What do you want from me?”
The smile widens as he eases forward into your space, filling the emptiness you refuse to acknowledge. “I want to taste you.”
He nibbles at your neck, one hand on your breast, the other lingering on your inner thigh. Throwing your head back, your chest leans into him. His body is hard against your own. You want him. No, you don’t want him - you are yearning with every single atom of your being for him.
“What’s your name?” The question is simple and asked only to clear your mind. You mustn’t allow yourself to get carried away by this man.
“I have many names,” he says, gliding further down your body. Your dress bunching up around your chest, his hands now under the clothes that you've abandoned any hope of protection from.
“What do you call yourself?”
“Junsu.”
When he smiles this time, it dawns on you that his ‘taste you’ may not have the same meaning as your own. The light seeping in from the open spaces of the silk that drapes down and wraps the bed in an attempt to hide the monster inside catches on the white of Junsu’s teeth. Gleaming white and sharp teeth. Pointed teeth.
He is still, as if he's giving you a moment to take him in.
“Junsu. Do you mean to eat me?” At his small smile you continue, cursing the single tear that zigzags down your cheek, “will it be very painful?”
“Not at all,” he says lifting your left leg over his shoulder. “In fact, it will be very pleasurable.”
His kisses are soft. Each movement of his lips brings a flutter of guilt and fear to your very bones. You don’t want to give in but the feeling of his breath between your legs makes you want to cry out. And maybe you do because you hear him chuckle, his hands sliding up and down the outside of your hips before settling under your arse.
“You smell delicious. I wonder if you’ll taste as good.”
The moan you sputter out is the only answer you can provide as he lowers his head once more. His grip is tight. His tongue lashes out at your thigh before a sharp pain engulfs you. His teeth. They are deep and yet you can’t scream, you can’t move, you can’t think. There’s only one thought on your mind.
“Even better than I expected,” he pants, the look in his eyes telling you it wasn’t enough. “How're you feeling, baby girl?”
You don’t have any strength. You tell him what you want. “More.”
He grins, blood dripping from his lips and fangs. “Bon appetit.”
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