lovelessending
For: lovelessending
Title: Kau Cim
Pairing: Hankyung/Heechul
Category: Supernatural
Summary: Hankyung knew better than to trust Heechul, but some things were outside your control when the fates decided to play games.
Notes: The title refers to a type of fortune telling that distinguishes between those destined to help you (贵人) from those destined to harm you (小人). lovelessending, you asked for supernatural with demons and I hope this is something that fulfills that! You also asked for angst, hence the ending, which I hope is okay with you. Happy holidays!
The window faced west, which legends and folklore said was the unlucky direction of death. Souls of the restless dead would converge upon houses of the dying and swarm in through west-facing windows, carrying away innocent souls into destruction. They were evil, the lore said, rejected from heaven and from hell, and condemned to wander the earth wreaking havoc.
Hankyung had been taught the power of old legends growing up. These legends were old with reason, his mother had told him with dark, troubled eyes. They pervaded generation after generation because there was a grain of truth to them, and he had better never forget to respect that.
Do not live in ignorance, she'd told him, keeping secrets until her last breath.
Hankyung had seen what had killed her.
He closed the window that faced west, and latched it securely shut. "Not in my home," he whispered.
--
He recognized the spirit for what it was the instant they encountered each other on that empty, dusty street. People didn't live in this village anymore, they only survived, clinging to the vestiges of the past. It was because of yaojing like the one before Hankyung that the village had been plunged into haunted disrepair. Spirits, vengeful, spiteful or merely mischievous, had come to roost in Hankyung's hometown, and where they went, trouble followed.
Still, it was rare to encounter one face-to-face, especially before the sun had set. They preferred to slink about in the shadows, causing destruction from within the cloak of darkness.
This one was beautiful.
It unnerved Hankyung, even though he knew, he knew, that they were hardly repugnant. They can assume many forms, his mother had lectured him time and again. Do not underestimate them. They will trick you and lead you to your death.
The light was waning as the sun sank behind the western horizon - twilight framed the slim figure before Hankyung. It looked human - frail, almost, with a deceptively thin frame and slender wrists peeking out from beneath its sleeves. Its neck was pale and swanlike, unfairly beautiful. Hankyung couldn't tell if the spirit was male or female, but its hair lay long down its back, an unnatural, fiery orange-red.
"Hello," it said in a low timbre.
Male, Hankyung thought, and then it moved toward him and he reconsidered. The gentle sway of the hips with every step was feminine, the carefully contained movements that caused the robe to swish over the dusty road.
Hankyung should've have moved, should've taken his pail of water and run into the safety of his house, shielded with his mother's paper charms. Instead, he was frozen, mesmerized by the spirit as it drew nearer, and its face growing clearer with proximity.
It, he, was captivating. His eyes were smoky and his mouth a touch too wide, but his face was expressive. The smile he gave Hankyung was terrifying in its gentle amusement. "You look..." He paused.
Hankyung's heart leaped into his throat.
"Delicious," he finished, and licked his lips.
The sight of that pink tongue spurred Hankyung into action. He backed away hastily, unnaturally clumsy as he struggled with his pail, nearly dropping it as he ran. Water sloshed over its edges, wetting his legs as he darted back the direction he had come, and then circled around, slamming the door to his house shut once he was safely inside. His heart hammered in his ears and Hankyung whispered a blessing under his breath.
He had been raised to heed the folklore and to fear the demons of which it spoke. He had not known true fear until he had looked into that face and felt treacherous, damning desire.
--
It consumed him.
For a week, Hankyung dreamed of nothing but those dark, fathomless eyes and that scalding tumble of red hair. He was haunted by that voice, sometimes echoing all around him, sometimes right next to his ear, purring with intent. Delicious, it said, over and over again, like it was taunting him. Hankyung shuddered restlessly in his sleep, twisting and turning under his thin blanket, waking exhausted with dread in his chest.
He prayed every day, muttering blessings he had long ago memorized as he stumbled through the day. He touched the paper charms his mother had hung up, fingers trailing along the brush strokes of each character of power.
It was all futile though. Hankyung knew it even as his dreams shifted and changed, as his fear of the spirit melted into something even more frightening: lust. Those long, pale fingers sliding against his skin, that hair trailing lines of fire down his chest, murmuring over and over: Delicious.
All the charms and prayers in the world hadn't protected his mother, Hankyung thought in the morning, head in his hands. The air was cold and welcome against his overheated skin, a jarring reminder of reality.
She had gone the way of the lost, eyes fever-bright.
Hankyung couldn't become another lost soul. He had promised her that he would be careful, that he would avenge his father's death. He would fight this encroaching obsession. He would carry his mother's vengeance to fruition.
So while the demon preyed on his mind, Hankyung fought to keep him out of the daylight hours. He cast about his mind for a plan, delving into memories for help. At last, Hankyung resolved to cease hiding and act. He chose a sunny day, the sun blindingly bright overhead, as he went out in search of a spirit who wanted his soul.
--
"Oh, it's you."
Hankyung took a step back. "If you want me, you have to come get me."
An eyebrow quirked, but the spirit followed him. He seemed to float, feet barely touching the ground when Hankyung stole glances over his shoulder. It was unnatural, but of course - there was nothing natural about the malevolent spirits that worked magic and trapped unwary humans to feed on their souls. Like the one that had consumed his father, before Hankyung had even been born.
A demon with fire for hair, his mother had spat with hatred in her voice.
They were dangerous, even if they were as beautiful as the one following behind Hankyung.
"We should stop," the spirit drawled suddenly. Within the blink of an eye, he was pressed up against Hankyung, holding him still against his own back door in a startling show of strength. The spirit's arm felt like steel where it pinned Hankyung just under his throat. His teeth bared in a facsimile of a smile. "It seems like you're home."
He reached down and pried Hankyung's frozen fingers away from the sword he'd grasped from the shadows. "And that's no way to welcome a guest."
--
His name, or the name he went by, was Heechul. He didn't flinch at the touch of the blessed wood. He didn't react to the charms protecting the house. He only smiled, a mocking tilt to the curve of his mouth, when Hankyung tried to banish him with a breathless exorcism chant.
"All useless," he murmured throatily and the weight that had settled uneasily at the pit of Hankyung's stomach only grew heavier. Heechul straddled him on his narrow bed, staring down at him with unreadable, dark eyes. There was a wealth of secrets in those eyes, perhaps lifetimes of experiences, fueled with stolen lives.
Hankyung hated him, hated everything he represented, and couldn't hold back from arching into the touch when Heechul ran a sweeping, generous hand along the length of Hankyung's body.
"What a contradiction you are," Heechul said, sounding delighted. "Delicious. Angry. Afraid. Longing."
Something changed in his expression as he continued probing Hankyung's mind, creeping seeking tendrils of magic that left a not unpleasant tingle. Hankyung fought for control of his mind but, like his body, it bent willingly to Heechul's touch. He laid still beneath Heechul as he felt the darkness closing in on him, indistinct around the edges of his vision.
Heechul's laughter was as sharp as bells in the air when he laughed. His thin frame trembled with it, the collar of his robe slipping open and gaping wide as he tossed his head back.
It was an eerie sound. Unnatural.
Mesmerizing.
"You have many secrets, ones that even you don't know," Heechul said at last, amusement in his eyes as he slid a strangely warm palm over Hankyung's face, cupping his cheek. He leaned forward, hair spilling over his shoulders and Hankyung burned from inside, from his jumbled thoughts to his curling toes, burned to touch him.
"How your mother would despair if she knew what you had let into your home."
The mocking murmur jerked Hankyung from the dizzying press of desire. His eyes flew open as his head cleared, as if he had been doused with icy water. His mother. His body shuddered, muscles tensing to spring out of bed, pushing the demon out of the way, desperation clawing at his throat. I won't let you have died in vain.
"Too late," Heechul hissed, and kissed him.
Any thought of fleeing drained from Hankyung as the heat flooded him, filling in the emptying gaps of his soul with wordless, mindless want.
--
It consumed him.
Hankyung no longer knew if he was lost in dreams or disjointed memories. Days might have passed, and nights along with them. Hankyung only knew heat, flames that scalded him from inside out, scarlet and dark against his skin and leaving him panting for air that never seemed to fill his lungs.
Something lingered in the back of his mind, underneath the flashes of Heechul's pink tongue and his wicked smile and smoky eyes. Something that left a seed of fear in Hankyung's heart, like a whisper he couldn't hear, a warning he couldn't decipher.
Yaojing. He knew Heechul was a spirit, had known since the first encounter on that empty twilit street. There was something significant about that, but Hankyung could never grasp that elusive knowledge when Heechul painted his body with hot, wet strokes of his tongue. Hankyung could only hear himself moan, fingers clenching in Heechul's hair, and the preternatural echo of Heechul's laughter in his mind, ringing over and over and over.
At times, when Heechul slept on him, looking ethereally beautiful and deceptively innocent, Hankyung found himself remembering a familiar face crooning his name. Hankyung, the woman's voice said. Hankyung, let me teach you about the evils in this world. You must beware them, for they are what took your father from us.
Beware, she'd warned.
Hankyung stroked his fingers through Heechul's hair, wondering if he used to understand, before the darkness in his vision encroached further, pulling him into a soundless sleep.
--
The west-facing window was open the night Heechul took Hankyung. The cold night air swirled around them as Heechul brought Hankyung to the height of pleasure, wringing from his chest a wretched, broken groan. Spirit magic plunged inside Hankyung for a moment of white-hot ecstasy, and then Hankyung's grip on Heechul's hips slackened and his hands fell to his sides. He never caught his breath.
Heechul extricated himself from the body on the bed and brought his fingers to his heart, feeling the thrum of his pulse under his touch. Delicious, as he'd predicted from the start, a pure soul, if a troubled one. It had seen so much darkness and so much loss, and had resisted it all. Until Heechul.
He dressed himself slowly, pulling his thin silk robes over his naked form with care. He would remember Hankyung, he thought with something akin to fondness. A father lost to Heechul, and years later, a son as well. The irony was too - Heechul licked his lips, eyes gleaming - delicious.
He had wondered, briefly, why the protective charms had not blistered his skin, why the blessings hadn't seared him. Now he knew. Her charms were useless against someone who had his blood.
Heechul's mouth formed its familiar smirk as he climbed out of the window, his hair like fire in the light of the moon. He slipped silently into the night, leaving behind nothing but a faint echo of laughter and a still body, a sacrifice to the cruel game of the fates.
--
Folklore told of the restless spirits that roamed the earth, rejected from heaven and hell, seeking souls in a quest for immortality. They wanted nothing else, even if they indulged themselves in mischief, in havoc, in carnal pleasures.
Do not live in ignorance, Hankyung's mother had told him, aching bitterness fresh in her eyes when he'd looked up at her, trustingly. Let me teach you of the evils of this world.
Beware.
Title: Kau Cim
Pairing: Hankyung/Heechul
Category: Supernatural
Summary: Hankyung knew better than to trust Heechul, but some things were outside your control when the fates decided to play games.
Notes: The title refers to a type of fortune telling that distinguishes between those destined to help you (贵人) from those destined to harm you (小人). lovelessending, you asked for supernatural with demons and I hope this is something that fulfills that! You also asked for angst, hence the ending, which I hope is okay with you. Happy holidays!
The window faced west, which legends and folklore said was the unlucky direction of death. Souls of the restless dead would converge upon houses of the dying and swarm in through west-facing windows, carrying away innocent souls into destruction. They were evil, the lore said, rejected from heaven and from hell, and condemned to wander the earth wreaking havoc.
Hankyung had been taught the power of old legends growing up. These legends were old with reason, his mother had told him with dark, troubled eyes. They pervaded generation after generation because there was a grain of truth to them, and he had better never forget to respect that.
Do not live in ignorance, she'd told him, keeping secrets until her last breath.
Hankyung had seen what had killed her.
He closed the window that faced west, and latched it securely shut. "Not in my home," he whispered.
--
He recognized the spirit for what it was the instant they encountered each other on that empty, dusty street. People didn't live in this village anymore, they only survived, clinging to the vestiges of the past. It was because of yaojing like the one before Hankyung that the village had been plunged into haunted disrepair. Spirits, vengeful, spiteful or merely mischievous, had come to roost in Hankyung's hometown, and where they went, trouble followed.
Still, it was rare to encounter one face-to-face, especially before the sun had set. They preferred to slink about in the shadows, causing destruction from within the cloak of darkness.
This one was beautiful.
It unnerved Hankyung, even though he knew, he knew, that they were hardly repugnant. They can assume many forms, his mother had lectured him time and again. Do not underestimate them. They will trick you and lead you to your death.
The light was waning as the sun sank behind the western horizon - twilight framed the slim figure before Hankyung. It looked human - frail, almost, with a deceptively thin frame and slender wrists peeking out from beneath its sleeves. Its neck was pale and swanlike, unfairly beautiful. Hankyung couldn't tell if the spirit was male or female, but its hair lay long down its back, an unnatural, fiery orange-red.
"Hello," it said in a low timbre.
Male, Hankyung thought, and then it moved toward him and he reconsidered. The gentle sway of the hips with every step was feminine, the carefully contained movements that caused the robe to swish over the dusty road.
Hankyung should've have moved, should've taken his pail of water and run into the safety of his house, shielded with his mother's paper charms. Instead, he was frozen, mesmerized by the spirit as it drew nearer, and its face growing clearer with proximity.
It, he, was captivating. His eyes were smoky and his mouth a touch too wide, but his face was expressive. The smile he gave Hankyung was terrifying in its gentle amusement. "You look..." He paused.
Hankyung's heart leaped into his throat.
"Delicious," he finished, and licked his lips.
The sight of that pink tongue spurred Hankyung into action. He backed away hastily, unnaturally clumsy as he struggled with his pail, nearly dropping it as he ran. Water sloshed over its edges, wetting his legs as he darted back the direction he had come, and then circled around, slamming the door to his house shut once he was safely inside. His heart hammered in his ears and Hankyung whispered a blessing under his breath.
He had been raised to heed the folklore and to fear the demons of which it spoke. He had not known true fear until he had looked into that face and felt treacherous, damning desire.
--
It consumed him.
For a week, Hankyung dreamed of nothing but those dark, fathomless eyes and that scalding tumble of red hair. He was haunted by that voice, sometimes echoing all around him, sometimes right next to his ear, purring with intent. Delicious, it said, over and over again, like it was taunting him. Hankyung shuddered restlessly in his sleep, twisting and turning under his thin blanket, waking exhausted with dread in his chest.
He prayed every day, muttering blessings he had long ago memorized as he stumbled through the day. He touched the paper charms his mother had hung up, fingers trailing along the brush strokes of each character of power.
It was all futile though. Hankyung knew it even as his dreams shifted and changed, as his fear of the spirit melted into something even more frightening: lust. Those long, pale fingers sliding against his skin, that hair trailing lines of fire down his chest, murmuring over and over: Delicious.
All the charms and prayers in the world hadn't protected his mother, Hankyung thought in the morning, head in his hands. The air was cold and welcome against his overheated skin, a jarring reminder of reality.
She had gone the way of the lost, eyes fever-bright.
Hankyung couldn't become another lost soul. He had promised her that he would be careful, that he would avenge his father's death. He would fight this encroaching obsession. He would carry his mother's vengeance to fruition.
So while the demon preyed on his mind, Hankyung fought to keep him out of the daylight hours. He cast about his mind for a plan, delving into memories for help. At last, Hankyung resolved to cease hiding and act. He chose a sunny day, the sun blindingly bright overhead, as he went out in search of a spirit who wanted his soul.
--
"Oh, it's you."
Hankyung took a step back. "If you want me, you have to come get me."
An eyebrow quirked, but the spirit followed him. He seemed to float, feet barely touching the ground when Hankyung stole glances over his shoulder. It was unnatural, but of course - there was nothing natural about the malevolent spirits that worked magic and trapped unwary humans to feed on their souls. Like the one that had consumed his father, before Hankyung had even been born.
A demon with fire for hair, his mother had spat with hatred in her voice.
They were dangerous, even if they were as beautiful as the one following behind Hankyung.
"We should stop," the spirit drawled suddenly. Within the blink of an eye, he was pressed up against Hankyung, holding him still against his own back door in a startling show of strength. The spirit's arm felt like steel where it pinned Hankyung just under his throat. His teeth bared in a facsimile of a smile. "It seems like you're home."
He reached down and pried Hankyung's frozen fingers away from the sword he'd grasped from the shadows. "And that's no way to welcome a guest."
--
His name, or the name he went by, was Heechul. He didn't flinch at the touch of the blessed wood. He didn't react to the charms protecting the house. He only smiled, a mocking tilt to the curve of his mouth, when Hankyung tried to banish him with a breathless exorcism chant.
"All useless," he murmured throatily and the weight that had settled uneasily at the pit of Hankyung's stomach only grew heavier. Heechul straddled him on his narrow bed, staring down at him with unreadable, dark eyes. There was a wealth of secrets in those eyes, perhaps lifetimes of experiences, fueled with stolen lives.
Hankyung hated him, hated everything he represented, and couldn't hold back from arching into the touch when Heechul ran a sweeping, generous hand along the length of Hankyung's body.
"What a contradiction you are," Heechul said, sounding delighted. "Delicious. Angry. Afraid. Longing."
Something changed in his expression as he continued probing Hankyung's mind, creeping seeking tendrils of magic that left a not unpleasant tingle. Hankyung fought for control of his mind but, like his body, it bent willingly to Heechul's touch. He laid still beneath Heechul as he felt the darkness closing in on him, indistinct around the edges of his vision.
Heechul's laughter was as sharp as bells in the air when he laughed. His thin frame trembled with it, the collar of his robe slipping open and gaping wide as he tossed his head back.
It was an eerie sound. Unnatural.
Mesmerizing.
"You have many secrets, ones that even you don't know," Heechul said at last, amusement in his eyes as he slid a strangely warm palm over Hankyung's face, cupping his cheek. He leaned forward, hair spilling over his shoulders and Hankyung burned from inside, from his jumbled thoughts to his curling toes, burned to touch him.
"How your mother would despair if she knew what you had let into your home."
The mocking murmur jerked Hankyung from the dizzying press of desire. His eyes flew open as his head cleared, as if he had been doused with icy water. His mother. His body shuddered, muscles tensing to spring out of bed, pushing the demon out of the way, desperation clawing at his throat. I won't let you have died in vain.
"Too late," Heechul hissed, and kissed him.
Any thought of fleeing drained from Hankyung as the heat flooded him, filling in the emptying gaps of his soul with wordless, mindless want.
--
It consumed him.
Hankyung no longer knew if he was lost in dreams or disjointed memories. Days might have passed, and nights along with them. Hankyung only knew heat, flames that scalded him from inside out, scarlet and dark against his skin and leaving him panting for air that never seemed to fill his lungs.
Something lingered in the back of his mind, underneath the flashes of Heechul's pink tongue and his wicked smile and smoky eyes. Something that left a seed of fear in Hankyung's heart, like a whisper he couldn't hear, a warning he couldn't decipher.
Yaojing. He knew Heechul was a spirit, had known since the first encounter on that empty twilit street. There was something significant about that, but Hankyung could never grasp that elusive knowledge when Heechul painted his body with hot, wet strokes of his tongue. Hankyung could only hear himself moan, fingers clenching in Heechul's hair, and the preternatural echo of Heechul's laughter in his mind, ringing over and over and over.
At times, when Heechul slept on him, looking ethereally beautiful and deceptively innocent, Hankyung found himself remembering a familiar face crooning his name. Hankyung, the woman's voice said. Hankyung, let me teach you about the evils in this world. You must beware them, for they are what took your father from us.
Beware, she'd warned.
Hankyung stroked his fingers through Heechul's hair, wondering if he used to understand, before the darkness in his vision encroached further, pulling him into a soundless sleep.
--
The west-facing window was open the night Heechul took Hankyung. The cold night air swirled around them as Heechul brought Hankyung to the height of pleasure, wringing from his chest a wretched, broken groan. Spirit magic plunged inside Hankyung for a moment of white-hot ecstasy, and then Hankyung's grip on Heechul's hips slackened and his hands fell to his sides. He never caught his breath.
Heechul extricated himself from the body on the bed and brought his fingers to his heart, feeling the thrum of his pulse under his touch. Delicious, as he'd predicted from the start, a pure soul, if a troubled one. It had seen so much darkness and so much loss, and had resisted it all. Until Heechul.
He dressed himself slowly, pulling his thin silk robes over his naked form with care. He would remember Hankyung, he thought with something akin to fondness. A father lost to Heechul, and years later, a son as well. The irony was too - Heechul licked his lips, eyes gleaming - delicious.
He had wondered, briefly, why the protective charms had not blistered his skin, why the blessings hadn't seared him. Now he knew. Her charms were useless against someone who had his blood.
Heechul's mouth formed its familiar smirk as he climbed out of the window, his hair like fire in the light of the moon. He slipped silently into the night, leaving behind nothing but a faint echo of laughter and a still body, a sacrifice to the cruel game of the fates.
--
Folklore told of the restless spirits that roamed the earth, rejected from heaven and hell, seeking souls in a quest for immortality. They wanted nothing else, even if they indulged themselves in mischief, in havoc, in carnal pleasures.
Do not live in ignorance, Hankyung's mother had told him, aching bitterness fresh in her eyes when he'd looked up at her, trustingly. Let me teach you of the evils of this world.
Beware.