Rise Apocalypse: Chapter 06

[ipsuren]

2 terms added to the GLOSSARY

Water running through a funnel, spinning wide around the rim until it’s spit out of the thin, dark cave of the stem. That was Donghae’s soul as it was funneled from the fading, blurred world of his Inception through unconsciousness and into darkness. What started out as warmth soon turned to a burning fever. Flames engulfed him, red hot and painful, his skin boiling and his eyes watering. When they subsided, he was standing in nothingness, white all around him. The ground was solid and in the distance he could hear the faint roar of a crowd, echoes of his present, so far away now that he was trapped, alone. He felt different, he felt alive. When he looked down at his body, he was clothed all in black, his arms thick with bulging biceps. His hands were caricatures of his child ones, no longer awkward, but strong and proportional. He touched his chest and felt its fullness, the solidity of his pectorals and the ripple of his abs, beneath his shirt. 
     “Donghae,” a familiar voice, it echoed in his mind.
     Sense that he had never possessed as a human told him he was alone and he didn’t need to look to see that it was true. 
     “You must keep your name,” the voice said. 
     There was a wetness on his arm, warm liquid dripping down dry flesh. Looking down, drops of blood marred the white floor and when Donghae lifted his arm to look at it there was a long, vertical incision. Black blood where the flesh separated and vibrant, fire red around the rim, trailing around the side of his forearm when he turned it, inspecting. When the pain came upon him in the form of an irritating itch, Siwon materialized before him, the image of his form flickering and unsteady.
     “Donghae, you must keep your name,” he said again.
     “Why?” Donghae asked. 
     Even his voice had changed. It was deeper, stronger, his tone laced with confidence and power. Another itch, this time on his other arm where a new cut was forming and Siwon stopped flickering as the connection between them was completed. The Nokhiri walked toward him and Hae saw the trail of blood he left behind from the identical wounds he now noticed on the other’s own arms. Before Siwon could reach him, the floor shattered and their white world collapsed around them, sending Donghae spinning once again through power and consciousness. He felt as if he’d transgressed life itself and was walking on another plane, a higher level of inhuman consciousness.
     Later, he would know that he was.
     Colors. All the colors of the world merging and dancing and becoming one. They warped and bulged and stretched themselves across his vision, laying upon his mind like a soft, light blanket. The distant clamour of his Inception was fading, replaced by a suction in his ears and the increasingly loud thump of his heartbeat, the sound of blood rushing through his veins to meet it. He was underwater, warm and bouyant, floating in place. He was encased by a shell of power, wrapped in the blanket of being born. Life was beginning anew. He could feel Siwon’s spirit, now familiar to him, a comfort. It lingered in his consciousness, his entire being focused on it, engrossed by it, obsessed with it. Nothing else existed. Siwon, The Power, and the thin, dead skin of his lost humanity.

When he woke up he was surrounded by pink. A bed half the size of Eunhyuk’s, with pink sheets, pink pillow cases, pink walls, pink curtains, and on the floor, various rugs in different shades of pink overlapping each other. The walls and comforter were the only hint of masculinity to be found, both black. He had no idea where he was, no idea whose room he was in or whose bed. But he knew pain. As the awareness gained on him and consciousness became clear, reality set in and so did the pain. It started first in his head. Whispers in his ears, indecipherable, things he could not understand. Voices spoke to him and his brain throbbed, beating against the walls of his skull as if it could not be contained. He was hot with fever and as a consequence of such he began to shake, ever more violent as other parts of his body started to rebel against his awakening. There was a knife in his stomach, twisting and throwing his back in an arch off the mattress as he strained against the aches. His mouth opened. It felt as if someone was opening his stomach and reaching in, digging through his intestines and pulling them out one by one. 
     His screams could not have been louder. Delirious with fever, blind with torment, he couldn’t tell who it was that rushed to him, only that someone did. A familiar voice spoke to him, quieting the screams in his mind. Hands touched him, inciting only more agony. Fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp, pressing his temples. Finally, liquid against his lips and Donghae’s throat opening to swallow it, eager for the kind respite it would give him, however temporary.

When next he awoke, he was groggy and numb, his mouth dry and his lips and tongue shriveled. The sheets and pillowcase were cold and soaked with his sweat and tears. The cuts on his arms were healed completely, but puckered white scars remained behind. It was proof that his kani was not yet over, there was still some fighting humanity left in him, refusing to be overthrown. Donghae wished, almost guiltily, that the Ipsuren blood Siwon had poured into him would hurry up and finish the job, snuff out whatever needed to be removed so all of this could be over. Donghae wished, less guiltily, that he could see Eunhyuk. 
     Had he visited him while he had been unconscious? 
     Donghae hoped he hadn’t. What a pathetic, horrible thing that would be, to be seen in such a state. Looking around the room, there was a mirror on the wall. Almost too greedily, Hae threw himself out of bed and collapsed immediately, sounding a terrible thump that seemed to shake the entire room. It was so loud in his ears, the tremors of the floor overly violent. His senses were so alert, aware of the tiniest of movement or sound. The pressure of his feet against solid ground was too much, too sharp. He tried to stand and fell again. His voice, torn and strained from screaming, allowed him to growl as he forced himself to stand, desperation giving him strength beyond the growing pain. 
     Somehow, he made it to the mirror. He was in the middle of his transformation, neither a human nor Ipsuren. His overall form was hideous, his human flesh burnt and scarred, his body grotesquely unproportional with one of his arms larger than the other and his back humped and curved. Yet, inhuman beauty shone through the cracks of monstrosity. The irises of his eyes were lined in gold, his hair was growing back in brown. Even his scars seemed to glow a tan gold hue where the new flesh had puckered. For the first time, Donghae fought a mental battle between humanity and the Ipsuren thought. His human side wanted to scream and cry and hide from the world in shame of his new form, but another part of him, the part that had not been there before, stood tall.
     “You will overcome,” it told him in the voice from his dream, deep and brimming with confidence. “You will become.”  
     Another wave of pain hit him, submerging him in agony and threatening to drown him in rising fever. Whatever strength he’d mustered to get to that mirror, whatever inhuman will had kept him there, disappeared, leaving him on the floor. Choking on his screams and trying to breathe, he dipped in and out of consciousness until someone came. 
     “I...going to...watch him!”
     Hands, pulling him up. 
     “Get him off the floor!” so clear, so loud. 
     Sungmin.
     “I want him back in bed. Hurry!”
     “...orry...I thought...be okay...”
     Hands on his forehead and he was back in bed, hands forcing him under the comforter, feeling his face and neck. 
     “Donghae, be strong.”
     The rim of a glass to his lips, Hae whimpered and turned away. A hand slapped him, hard, and Donghae screamed.
     “I said be strong, dammit! You’re better than this!”
     That voice, once more inside him, knew Sungmin was right. So he drank. As he was drifting off into the merciful abyss, he clutched Sungmin’s hand, held close to the okji’s soft chest. 
     “Where is Eunhyuk?” he asked, eyelids heavy and voice soft. 
     Sungmin’s eyes were as Donghae had never seen them and in his state he couldn’t have been sure how much of what he saw was real or hallucination. But Sungmin’s eyes were as gentle as a stream and deep with understanding. When he smiled, the adorable arch of his cupid’s bow tightened. It did nothing to silence Donghae’s query, constantly he asked for Eunhyuk, wondering where he was, when he’d get to see him.
     “He will come,” Sungmin would say, kissing Hae’s knuckles gently. “You will see.”
     But, Eunhyuk did not come. And did not come. And did not come.

In the center of his forehead, directly above the bridge of his nose, a third eye opened. When Donghae awoke it wouldn’t be there, but in his sleep he’d feel the folds of flesh, makeshift eyelids, pulling back away from a glossy eye. With it he saw Eunhyuk, smiling at him in a way he’d not yet seen in the waking world. Their hands were clasped together, fingers squeezing tight. The world around them was shrouded in darkness, details blurred by an eerie mist. He was brimming with a happiness he had yet to know, but it was bright and good. Like pictures in a slideshow, the scenario changed. Suddenly, Donghae was looking down into a dark hallway leading into black nothingness. Seemingly out of nowhere, a fear had him by the throat, strangling him with horror. He turned, terrified and frantic, trying to find Eunhyuk, but saw only darkness. A long corridor was in front and back of him with no end in sight. Trembling, his third eye began to weep and when Hae reached up to wipe the tears, he found only blood.
     When he woke, he was choking on vomit and when he shot up in terror it spewed forth in a gurgling mess. Beneath his skin he swore things were moving and when Shindong ran in to tend to him Donghae was raking his nails across his arms, eyes wide. Donghae, Donghae. It was all they said to him, the only word of comfort they could offer, a constant reminder of who he was. He felt no kindness towards them, no fondness or appreciation. All he knew was that their hands burned his skin and their words were like needles in his ears, every syllable pricking. They would stuff him back into bed when he fell out of it, pull the blankets over him when he kicked them off. Their wet towels would wipe at his damp, sweat-sticky skin and their cups would force thick, tasteless liquid down his throat. In his delirium, he hated them, but in his waking moments of clarity, he loved them fiercely.
     They kept him alive. Shindong, with his words of comfort and the laugh that Donghae heard even in his blurry dreams. Sungmin, with his hands and his warmth and his whispers. They were kind to him when he suffered and when he was angry and full of self-pity and loathing, they were hard and forceful. And inside him, Donghae was building his walls of confidence and strength. Inside him, the seed of power that had been planted had begun to grow. Almost a full bud, it was sitting with petals closed tight, waiting to be opened.

What felt like pieces of many years to Donghae was, in actuality, only a week in real time. On the eve of the last day, Sungmin came and woke him. It was still dark outside the windows, and for the first time Donghae felt well enough to kneel on the bed and peel away the curtains on the window above to look out at the streets of Garahim. They were silent and dead as the prokji slept in their homes, warm in their own beds. For the first time since before his Inception, Donghae felt normal. Not powerful, not special, just ordinary, as if he’d never suffered as much as he had. The nightmares and tears and screams were a foggy memory, vivid and clear at parts, but mercifully censored. Sungmin beckoned him out of bed and Donghae found he could stand and walk normally. The only difference, to him, was the backing track of whispers in his mind. Not loud or clear or even distracting, but present. A crowd whispering about him in the dark, saying things he could not hear well enough to understand. He could easily ignore the quiet conversations now, focus his attention on Sungmin and what he was saying. 
     “You haven’t had a bath, Donghae,” he pointed out. “Bathe with me?”
     Where once the notion would have been humiliating and shameful, now Hae thought nothing of it. It was natural, sharing a bath with someone you trusted, someone of equal beauty and greater worth. If anything, it was a privilege. Saying nothing, Donghae followed his caretaker to the joining bathroom. It was different than the one he’d bathed in weeks ago, during his first few days among the prokji of Garahim. Where Eunhyuk’s bathroom had been mostly black and white with a few items of pink (which Hae now realized were Sungmin’s things), this room was almost entirely pink. Pink, white and blue, it wasn’t as obsessively ordered as the other bathroom, but it was clean, tidy and brightly lit. When Sungmin turned on the lights, the overhead flourescents hummed as they filled the room with yellow-white light.
     While Sungmin filled the bathtub, Donghae found himself in a mirror. Gone was the hideous monstrosity of a few days ago. Now, the shell of his cracked humanity had peeled away and staring back at him was a reflection of the glowing, large, muscled god he had become. It was as if he had aged at least five years. His hair had grown back at an inhuman rate, still short, but thick once again, and brown. As he was staring, not gloating or adoring his new physique, but observing it, Sungmin appeared behind him. He’d removed his clothes and Donghae realized that now, even though they were almost the same height, Sungmin was slightly shorter than him. He was paler, soft and white, while Donghae was bronze, almost gold. A gentle touch on his right arm from Sungmin’s fingers, trailing from his elbow to his shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror. 
     “Are you happy, Donghae? You have an exquisite form.”
     Donghae’s expression was relaxed, collected. He didn’t know what to feel, he only knew the reality of what he saw. He was beautiful, yes, but. They were all beautiful. Without answering, he turned and looked at the okji behind him and for the first time really saw how unique he was. Now that Donghae could feel the masculinity of Ipsuren, had seen nothing but masculinity and power, he realized how amazing Sungmin’s gentle disposition was. Sungmin was small, soft, but not overweight. His eyes were large and full of emotion, his lips almost delicate in shape. Even when he stared, expressionless, he appeared to be almost pouting. He had the mandatory Ipsuren ego, of course. His high caste in Garahim leant him an added reason to gloat along with all he had accomplished in his time. But he did not appear pretentious. He was not arrogant, rarely was he obnoxious, except in jest (and only then with Eunhyuk). 
     His shoulders were masculine and round, the upper half of his arms slightly fleshy, but firm when flexed. His chest was flat in comparison to Eunhyuk’s and his own, lacking the strong, developed pectorals, but they were defined. His abs were there, but almost invisible upon standing still, yet Hae could feel the strength in his torso, leading down to slim hips and the beginning of what would be the first glimpse of Ipsuren sex he’d see. 
     To say it was the same as a human’s would be inaccurate, but it was not so terribly different. The general makeup of the Ipsuren penis is the same as a human’s, but where a human male is awkward, saggy, even ugly, the okji is not. It is larger than the average human manhood, keeping in the same vein as the rest of the Ipsuren race. It is smooth and hairless, but the exact difference lies in how it is presented. It glows. Not like a lightbulb, but the gentle, soft luminescence of a single flame. It is warm, the air around it steaming with a materialization of power. It is the center, the core of Ipsuren power. It is a divine privilege to look upon it and prokji give that privilege willingly and frequently. They are promiscuous, sensual creatures, who seek power and knowledge and yearn to share it with each other. But it was not Donghae’s time.
     He was drawn to Sungmin the way any okji was. Sungmin, in all his sensuality, with all of his allure and feminity, appealed to the dominating sort. Donghae wished to dominate him and knew that if he did, it would be a challenging experience, for Sungmin had proven that he was not a submissive person, despite appearances. But Sungmin merely tore Hae’s eyes from desired places by removing his shirt and it wasn’t long before the sexual tension between them dissipated. Actually, it was a caring thing, Sungmin bathing with him. He washed the sweat out of Donghae’s hair and massaged his shoulders and neck, utilizing a knowledge of pressure points that had Hae melting beneath his touch.
     “Sungmin,” Donghae began, as the other worked at a particularly sore muscle next to his left shoulder blade. 
     “Oh, don’t call me that anymore, Hae,” he whined. “Shorten it to Min, or something. We’ve seen each other naked, I think the time for formalities has passed.”
     “Shouldn’t I be calling you tulana or something?” Hae almost felt foolish for having forgotten something so basic.
     “Around others, yes. But privately? No,” he stopped his massage and Hae circled his neck, cracking out the kinks. “Now, what were you saying?”
     “I just wanted to know what your kani was like,” Hae admitted, a bit shy. “If you suffered as much as I did. Here, let me wash your back.”
     Min settled in before him and allowed Donghae to squeeze warm water over his back with a filled sponge. 
     “Hae, we all suffer. To become great, we must. Humans are full of all kinds of flaws and impure feelings and emotions. Their entire thought process is one of evil, rife with hatred and jealousy. There is no room for those feelings in the Ipsuren way of life. In order to be welcome to it, all of that must be cleansed. You need to be stripped of your undeserved, human arrogance. That, 'Humans are the Rulers of the Earth’ philosophy. In order to lose this, you must experience pain unlike anything humans could ever feel in any other way, both physically and mentally.”
     “I understand all that, now,” Hae admitted. “I didn’t at first.”
     “Of course you didn’t. How could you? You were human.”
     Donghae’s hands stalled in their routine, resting to cup Sungmin’s shoulder blades. Weakly, he leant forward and pressed his forehead against the back of Min’s neck.
     “And what am I now, Minnie?”
     For a while, Sungmin didn’t answer. Donghae turned to rest his cheek against the other’s shoulder, content to share the comfort of skin against skin.
     “Hyukjae and I were human together on the third plate,” he said, finally. “We met as young teenagers and almost immediately became lovers. Looking back, I don’t think we actually loved each other. We loved the idea that what we were doing was considered a sin. It was rebellious. It was wild. We were such children. We decided to convert together, ignorant (as most humans are), of what exactly we were getting ourselves into. As spoiled brats, it was easy to leave our families behind but, now I wish I had at least said goodbye.”
     A quiet moment, where even the water was silent as they sat, unmoving.
     “There was an Ipsuren drug dealer Hyuk knew. He said he would take us back to his gang and 'initiate’ us. But it was a lie. When we met him at the arranged meeting place and time, he sold us to slave pedallers. We allowed them to take us out of town, but once we’d made it a safe distance we rebelled against them and fought for freedom. Hyukjae managed to kill one of them, but he was stronger than me in the end. Anyway, needless to say we got separated. Hyuk got away and I was taken, gagged and blindfolded, to Lower City. There, I was sold to an undisciplined rabble of Ipsuren filth who liked to hit. Thankfully, they never raped me. I think they wanted to, they certainly talked about it enough, but they were never given the chance. A few days after I was sold to them, their hideout was raided and overthrown by a clan of high level Isuda Ohzai. Ipsureni.”
     “Ipsureni?” Donghae lifted his head in surprise. “Females?”
     “Yes. They’re a rare sight, these days. They’re usually high up on the Ladder, now. They progress through caste levels incredibly quickly, far quicker than prokji. Anyway, I had never seen one before then.”
     “What were they like?” Donghae returned his cheek to its previous position against his companion’s shoulder, staring dreamily into the steam from the bathwater.
     “Beauty beyond imagination. Their image is something words cannot possibly describe. Anyway, they saved me and nurtured me.”
     “They Incepted you?”
     “Yes,” Sungmin admitted. “A young human boy Incepted by Ohzai. It’s unheard of. It’s believed by most to be impossible, but. I’m here, aren’t I?”
     It explained so much. He had the blood of a goddess flowing through his veins, a sacred mix of the ferocious Ipsuren and the bewitchment of an Ipsureni. He was the best of both genders, yet a male all the same. Donghae wondered why such a creature was in Lower City when it seemed to Donghae that someone of such worth belonged in the sanctity of Aethere. 
     “And what happened to Eunhyuk?” Donghae managed to ask, his voice held tight in his throat.
     Silence once more, before,
     “Unspeakable things. You must never ask him, Donghae. He wouldn’t want you to know.”
     Unbidden, a single tear slipped from the depths of Hae’s soul and ran, silently, down his cheek.

The next morning, Donghae met Jay and Jungmo for the first time since his Kuwaru. They woke him up and hauled him out of bed, Jungmo ever silent and Jay making comments about the smell of piss, blood and vomit in the room. They were kinder than they had been in the old chapel, but unsympathetic to Hae’s ordeal, which Donghae supposed he should expect from everyone. Why would he need sympathy? He lived through something that most did not and had come out of it superior. It was something they all went through and, apparently, he had had it easy compared to what most suffered through. Hae realized this and asked for no kindness, no special treatment. He smiled at them when they arrived and allowed Jungmo to undress him in silence while Jay changed the sheets on Sungmin’s bed.
     Used to Jungmo’s quiet nature by now, they didn’t speak. Patiently, he was wiped down from head to toe and scented with oils and perfumed powders. Once more he was dusted with a light covering of gold shimmer, but now it highlighted the tan tones in his skin where before it had only made him glitter like an ornament. They forwent the jewels and painted patterns, even left him jewelry-free. In the end he was dressed down in dark silk and mesh, see-through at the chest to reveal the strength of his torso and arms, the dusky circles of his nipples. After it was over, Donghae finally asked what was going on.
     “Not another ritual, I hope?”
     Jungmo just smiled and left to fetch him breakfast from the kitchen. Behind him, Jay spoke up. 
     “You’re meeting with someone of great importance. He’ll fill you in.”
     Nervously, Donghae sat on the bed and waited, but he felt him coming before he actually made his appearance. When he did, striding into the room with that air of arrogance and holiness, Jay bowed as low as his large form would allow before scrambling out as quickly as possible. Donghae supposed he should bow or something, so he inclined his head and looked down.
     “Tulana-Siwon,” he was hesitant, unsure of the appropriate honorific.
     When the Nokhiri didn’t correct him he assumed he’d gotten it right. 
     “Donghae.”
     His tone was light and cheerful and when he smiled, the glow around him seemed to burn even brighter. Awkwardly, Jungmo brought in the tray for breakfast, dumped it hurriedly on the bed and scrambled out of the room, frantic. Siwon chuckled and the echo made it an eerie sound, like the pouring of water into a deep clay pot. He wasted no time taking a seat on the bed next to Donghae and being in such close proximity made his skin crawl. The voices in his head were louder now, distracting.
     “Those will go away,” Siwon said, as if he could read exactly what Hae’s thoughts had been. Perhaps he could. “Please, eat.”
     Donghae wasn’t hungry, but he felt obligated to taste the food anyway. Stiffly, he picked up an apple and bit into it. 
     “Donghae, I’m here to congratulate you on your successful transformation from human to Ipsuren. I must say, you have accepted my blood magnificently.”
     “Thank you, tulana.”
     There was an awkward, terrifying lull in the conversation where Siwon did nothing but watch Donghae chew, which he did to an unnecessary extent. 
     “There is one last ceremony you must undergo, Donghae. One you will like,” he revealed, somewhat cryptically.
     Instinctively now, Hae knew what it was. Internally beginning to panic, his heartrate increased, air seemingly difficult to come by. No. No, not him, not him, I can’t.
     Humourously, Siwon raised his eyebrows to an almost comical height, a look that only served to put Donghae further on edge. At least, until the Nokhiri laughed out loud.
     “No, it won’t be me. Not that I wouldn’t want to, but, I already gave you my blood. You can’t have both that and my powersource. My role in this is only to tell you what’s going to happen, now.”
     Relief. Sweet, generous relief.
     “Hebia-ka. The exchange of power between two Ipsuren. What humans would call ‘sex.’ But, it is not sex. It is when an okji or ohza opens the gates of their power channel and allows another okji or ohza, as the case may be, inside. Once inside, what is revealed depends on the bond between the two. The stronger the bond, the more that can be shared and exchanged. Quing-hebia. The sacred ritual between a newly Incepted Ipsuren and one of the opposite sex. Usually. Since ohzai are hard to come by these days, we’ve had to improvise. It does not matter, actually. It was just a formality anyway. Either way, the--okji, in this case--will form a physical connection with you and set ablaze the fires of your inner Ipsuren. He’ll...jumpstart your powersource. It is a very memorable experience, one you will carry with you for the rest of your life. 
     Heechul has promised me it will be special for you. They say they’ve chosen someone you’ll be able to appreciate. But, before I let you go, I need to make one thing clear. Whatever you feel towards this person, whatever you may feel for anyone else at any point in your existence, it is not love. That is the most important thing I can teach you, Donghae, that Ipsuren cannot feel love. That must frighten you, coming from a world of humanity, where love was the only source of hope. Love is a lie humans tell themselves to give them that hope. We have no need of that here.”
     Donghae was lost in a world of words and emotions his former human brain would not have been able to make sense of, but now, he was in touch with his emotions. His thoughts were lined up before him in perfect order and he was able to make out every last one. He was afraid, of course, but excited at the same time. Morbidly fascinated. Curious. And, of course, unwilling to get his hopes up.
     “Take my hand, Donghae.”
     Their skin touched and a connection between them was made, but only long enough for Hae to travel by thought for the first time. Granted, it wasn’t his own doing, he was merely carried along by Siwon’s will. But the feeling of riding quickly through a tunnel and appearing in a totally different place than he’d started was new to him. They were in Eunhyuk’s room.
     “Remember what I told you, Donghae,” Siwon reminded him. “About love.”
     He disappeared.

He had to have known. On some level, he had to have known that it would be Eunhyuk, but Donghae was too wary to admit it to himself. After all, the okji had rejected him, hadn’t he? He’d let him down over and over again, why should Hae trust at all that he’d come now? And yet, when he did, Donghae was not surprised. What he felt could not even have been called relief. When Eunhyuk sauntered into the doorway, holding himself up with an arm against the frame, Hae felt nothing but anger. 
     “Look who decided to show up,” he spat, crossing his arms defensively. 
     Eunhyuk entered the room and shut the door behind him, his eyes glued to Donghae’s form. His jaw was working, against what Hae couldn’t say, but it flexed with some emotion. Eunhyuk had pressed himself back against the door, looking in all truth as if he was struggling to hold himself up as his eyes moved all over Hae, staring with an intensity that was making him feel hot inside.
     “Aren’t you going to say hi?”
     “Actually,” Eunhyuk grunted. “I’m trying to control myself right now. It’s kind of hard when you look like that.”
     Donghae felt inexplicably, indescribably happy for some reason, but his anger and his pride wouldn’t let himself show it. He was angry. Pissed. Totally pissed.
     “Oh yeah, didn’t they tell you? I’m sexy now. There was a ceremony and everything. You should’ve been there.”
     Eunhyuk rolled his eyes the way he sometimes did at Sungmin. “I couldn’t.”
     “Why not?”
     Pushing off the door, Eunhyuk walked towards the mirror and began primping, something Donghae thought was completely out-of-place, but also irritatingly endearing.
     “There are rules about these things. Once Sungmin decided I was going to be your hebia-ka partner, I was forbidden to see you until now. It’s all very superstitious and pointless, if you ask me.”
     That served to abate Donghae’s fury a bit. The fact that the other might not have been permitted to visit him was something he hadn’t considered. Of course, Sungmin wouldn’t have been able to tell him without revealing this part of his kani and the whole process was so secretive, down to the very last detail. Confident and, admittedly, a little spiteful, Hae walked over to the mirror to stand as close to Eunhyuk as possible. The way the other okji froze in his primping to stare at Hae’s reflection only fueled his fire. Lightly, Donghae touched Eunhyuk’s arm, right on his bicep, pushing out through the sleeves of his tight black t-shirt.
     “And,” Donghae kept his voice low. “What do you think of my transformation?”
     That prominent jaw flexed again, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed, caught off guard. It was obvious what Eunhyuk thought about Hae’s transformation. The black pits of his eyes gave away his desire, the power he held inside him practically crackling in the air, static. Yet, experience gave him self control beyond anything Donghae had, and he contained his emotions. 
     He turned away and shrugged, “you’re okay.”
     Hae was ready to scream, his frustration boiling over. He threw himself onto the bed, the action causing his black silks to slide down his shoulders.
     “You are the most irritating thing I have ever known!”
     It was then that Eunhyuk laughed. The most delightful sound Hae had heard all week, it melted away all of his anger, all of his fears. It proved that even though Donghae was now an okji, he was still Donghae. And Eunhyuk was still his savior. Kind, generous, sweet. All of those things, but also mysterious and sometimes crude. Hae was no longer afraid of him. All he felt was happiness. He reached his hand out and, laughing, Eunhyuk took it as he crawled onto the bed next to him.
     “I thought you’d left,” Hae whispered. “I thought you’d gone without me.”
     Eunhyuk rolled onto his side, his eyes tracing Donghae’s profile, his neck, his chest. 
     “I almost did, but. Sungmin talked me out of it.”
     Donghae looked at him, caught him staring at one of Hae’s nipples through the mesh, his eyes losing focus. 
     “You don’t really think I’m just okay,” he pointed out. It was a statement of fact.
     One of Eunhyuk’s hands rested on Donghae’s stomach, feeling the ridges of his abs before moving upwards, stopping at that nipple. Gently, with a single finger, he traced it. Hae felt his skin move with anticipation, his nipples hardening against his will. Eunhyuk smirked, audibly.
     “No,” he whispered. “I think you’re incredible. You’re the most exquisite thing I have ever laid eyes on.”
     “Now you’re exaggerating,” Donghae chided, borderline irritated.
     “I’m not.” His finger stalled, forcing their eyes to meet. “You were always. Always. Perfect. When I first saw you, even as that scared little Gutter rat,” he paused. “This is sick.”
     “No." Frantically, Hae cupped his face, ran his thumb along the plush of Eunhyuk’s bottom lip. “Tell me. Tell me everything. I want to know everything.”
     Deeply, the okji inhaled. “Even then, I knew you were everything I’d ever wanted in a companion.”
     Oh.
     “Oh.” It was a gasp.
     A parting of lips that Eunhyuk took full advantage of, leaning forward and pressing their lips together, pushing his tongue into that partition, into that gasp. Donghae swallowed him. Their tongues colliding began a process beyond description. The wet, warmth of their mingling saliva sparked and crackled like oil catching flame. Each time, it was as if nerves were being pulled in Hae’s mind, parts of his consciousness sparking along with it. He felt an arousal unlike anything he’d felt during human puberty, something overwhelming in its intensity. His skin was hyper sensitive where Eunhyuk touched it, his hands pushing the silks completely off his arms until they were bunched around his waist, where they remained for a time. Donghae pulled at Eunhyuk’s shirt, wanting to crawl inside it, wanting it off so he could see and touch all the secrets it held. When it was removed, he moved on instinct. There was no period of shyness, for being bodyshy was something foreign to them. There was no transition period where they got used to the newness of each other. There was just skin on skin, a frantic mission to remove clothes and explore every new territory that was unveiled. 
     Donghae had his lips on Eunhyuk’s jawline, one hand in his hair and the other on his chest, fingers teasing a nipple flat and hard against a firm pectoral. Eunhyuk’s hands were massaging his hips, squeezing and pressing fingers deep into skin. 
     “Donghae,” he moaned it, almost whimpered. 
     Donghae pulled from him, “Call me Hae. I want to call you Hyuk.”
     Free now, Hyuk started to remove the barrier between himself and Hae’s new, excited sex. As soon as the silk was lifted the bright glow of his arousal peeked through and he smiled like a demon.
     “I’ll call you anything you want,” Eunhyuk said, watching Donghae’s cock pop free, his face mischievous with delight. “Anything, as long as I can have this.”
     Hae buried his hands in Hyuk’s hair, moaned at how intimate they were, how close they were becoming, how connected.
     “It’s yours. Everything is yours. I am yours.”
     When hands embraced him, Hae almost screamed. He was so sensitive, as if all of his nerves were on the outside. He felt everything, Hyuk’s warm breath beating against his skin, the moisture coating his palms, the press of his fingers. Light moved behind his eyelids, sound burst in his ears. He clutched the pillow behind his head, mouth open in a silent scream. Eunhyuk was pushing his legs up, hands beneath his thighs and Hae didn’t have to be told to hold them there. There was scented oil, warmed between Hyuk’s palms. He used it to stretch a part of Hae gone untouched, his fingers moving delicately and with care. With every inch deeper, every added finger, Hae unleashed sounds he knew would be heard around the house. When Hyuk, the first Ipsuren Donghae had ever seen, loomed on his knees above him, thumbs hooked in the waistline of his pants, their frantic pace slowed. Their eyes met. Slowly, Hyuk lowered his trousers and, beaming gold, his erection stood tall. As badly as Hae wanted to touch it, he didn’t dare. They were in ritual mode now. It was time to make the connection. Between his legs, Hyuk bent down to Hae’s level and Donghae reached out to bury his hands in dark hair once again. 
     “I want this,” Eunhyuk whispered against Hae’s lips. “More than anything, I want this.”
     “I want you.”
     Pushing forward, guided by his hand, Hyuk gave it to him. He entered slowly, filling a passage tight and hot, his brow furrowed with the intensity of the squeeze, so tight it was almost painful. Hae hissed and bit his lip, the pain noticeable, but mere discomfort compared to what he’d experienced throughout the week. After getting used to such torment, the pinch was almost welcome, fueling Hae’s passion and causing him to push down. Hyuk moaned and quickly, grabbed his hips, holding him still. 
     “Don’t. Move.” 
     Hae offered his neck for Hyuk to bury his face into, a crook moist with sweat. Hyuk’s hair was damp and Hae’s fingers wet from playing with it. The gasping breath against his clavicle synchronized their heartbeats, or maybe it was the power entering him.
     “Lend me your strength,” Hyuk whispered, pushing up and pressing their lips together once more.
     Breathing together, open mouthed, Hae tasted Sungmin’s cooking and beneath that, layers of foreign things. Strawberry milk, the bite of metal, ash and fire. Movement inside him, Hyuk beginning to thrust, his pace slow, but hard. Donghae’s mind began to open. Light filled him, blinding, searing, red-hot heat. Gummy smiles, loud laughter. Sungmin’s voice, and Heechul’s, words he couldn’t make out. A thumping sound, at first a heartbeat but turning into rhythm. Music. 
     “Hae,” his name bringing him back. 
     HaeHaeHae.
     Eunhyuk’s voice in his head, louder than the rest, clear.
     “Do I feel good to you, Hyuk?” Hae asked aloud, voice surprisingly steady.
     Yes. Yesyesyes.
     “You feel good to me.”
     Shit. Hae. Shit.
     “Hyuk, I. I think.”
     “Come.”
     “What?”
     “Come for me.”
     A few more thrusts. The depths of Hyuk’s eyes, like endless black corridors. Details blurred, only a stark, crude reflection of reality accessible through the pleasure and power between them. The bed was shaking. Sweat drops tossed themselves from the tips of Hyuk’s hair, froze mid-flight to hover, trapped in time. Existence stopped. Life stopped. The world shuddered.
     And Donghae came.

A/N: i'll think of something to say when my brain isn't mush.
i love sungmin. oh, and if you (for some reason) want to stalk any other fics i may or may not write, you can now do it at swiftlocks
but, if you wanna be my bro, you have to talk to me. i'm always willing to make friends, especially if they're my readers!