City (e)Scape 5/?
Title: City (e)Scape
Progress: 5/?
Pairing: To be decided
Rating: PG-13 ~ NC-17
Warnings: Graphic violence, blood/gore, sexual situations (more to be added)
Summary: In a grisly future, healers and hunters are bred for the specific purpose of keeping order for THEM. But when IT starts to revolt and draft wary healers and hunters to create its own army, it’s obvious that someone is on the inside. Jonghyun and Kibum, the child prodigies of THEM are out to settle the score and find out what really happened - even at the sake of their own loyalty.
A/N: Title is a play on the term ‘cityscape’, which is basically ‘the view of the city’; it’s about wanting to break free from the norm, to escape the life you’re born into, to find yourself and others and do what you want to do with your own life.
[ Prologue] [ 1] [ 2] [ 3] [ 4]
--
The era of the Black Out lasted a period of 50 years. For half a decade the entire Earth was cast in a dark shadow, the people forced to move underground to try and find new resources. Some made it, some didn’t. Scientists were valued above the common man and civil war erupted all over the world, the governments being revolted against by the people for favoring one man over the other. The government tried to consolidate, tried to assure the people that it was for the good of the Earth to save the scientists so that one day they may return to the surface, or maybe to another planet to start new lives for their children and their children’s children.
The Sun’s solar flare had been more violent, more chaotic than anyone had predicted. The protective dome covering the colony on the moon had been blasted away, the population perishing instantly. The flare moved over the moon, the sheer heat of it chipping away part of the surface of the solar being, forever scarring it and turning it lopsided - the tides of the oceans shifted and the Americas got sunk, the rest of the continents losing much of their land mass as the raging ocean consumed viciously.
A hundred years later people surfaced - the ones that didn’t drown - the population morally divided as they saw what happened to their land, to their home, to their Earth. The governments were overthrown and taken over, the people turning barbaric and almost getting rid of the scientists, too; however, the new regime that had taken up residency to unite the alienated nations managed to sway the people and keep the scientists protected.
Five hundred more years were spent articulating and dissecting every little thing that happened to the Earth, to the moon and to the Sun and the surrounding planets and stars, searching for the break that would lead the human race to a different planet to start anew. There was no such luck, however, and as the people divided and started to try and make resources out of what land they still had, odd things started to happen.
The radioactive chemicals in the soil that the people started to grow their produce in was seeping into their system and changing their genetic make-up. The food they ate was contaminated, almost a poison - an epidemic spread over the Earth in the wake of the Black Out, a horrible plague that wiped out half of the population. Those that did survive dubbed the period of twenty years the White Out, continuing on with their breeding and their consumption of the tainted foods. Their children were born, their children had children, and things seemed alright for the next hundred years.
Until one day, a child of about six exercised enormous, atrocious power. A car was flipped when he only meant to shut the door, the vehicle sailing across the street and smashing into a decrepit building. It didn’t take long for more children to show the same astonishing strength; some children could pick up cars, some children could manipulate the energy in their bodies to regenerate wounds.
The scientists picked up on these newfound traits and hypothesized that they were due to the consumption of radioactive food so long ago by their ancestors, but nothing was for sure. The only thing the scientists knew was that these kids were powerful, too powerful, and something like this could change the entire fabric of their lives.
So the government started to recruit the ‘chosen’ children. Special training camps were created to harness the powers of the hunter, and the powers of the healer, and soon the government used them as a control against the people that were once again starting an uprising.
It had been working for quite a few decades, using the army of super humans to keep the people in line, but as with all good comes bad, with the light comes the dark. The government turned corrupt, using all of its funds to fuel their small army, to aid their scientists, the people being forgotten once again. Of course the people would lead another revolt, of course history would split itself into two separate sides.
The government became THEM and the refugees became IT. Factions of healers and hunters split up, IT gathering a few scientists from THEM and using their knowledge to create new training camps, training their chosen ones for war, for genocide, for the good of the Earth and what may come of it.
The precipice of ‘good vs evil’ seems pretty common to anybody. One side wants to maintain peace and order, and one side wants to cause chaos and destruction.
But when ‘good’ and ‘evil’ both use any dirty, violent means necessary in order to beat each other…
Where do the real good guys stand?
--
Kibum ticked his head to the side, getting his blood-soaked bangs out of his vision, hearing the blood spatter against the already soaked floor as he and Jonghyun moved through the lab. Bodies were strewn about, massacred beyond recognition; but their white coats let the two elites know exactly what had happened to these scientists.
IT had caught wind of THEIR new tactics and were doing all they could to prevent THEM from advancing in the current stand-still.
“This is disgusting,” Kibum murmured, his eyes trailing over a man’s face - or at least, where a man’s face had been on the skull, the flesh peeled away from the bone, eyes gauged out and jaw ripped off. “Who would do this?”
“Someone with a huge vendetta,” Jonghyun responded, kicking aside an upturned lab table, wrinkling his nose as a few test tubes shattered, the chemicals mixing with the spilled blood on the floor. “This is pretty sick though.”
“I just want to know how they infiltrated our base,” Kibum said, stepping over the mangled form of what he assumed was a woman. “No one that isn’t affiliated with THEM knows how to get in. The passwords are changed daily.”
“Just another clue that it’s someone on the inside,” Jonghyun said thoughtfully, moving to a counter as he pushed aside a stack of binders, examining a bullet hole in the wall. Some light was pouring onto the surface of the counter, and Jonghyun crawled atop of the table and stuck his eye right up to the hole, looking around.
Kibum rolled his eyes and made his way to the door, opening it and heading down the hallway.
“It’s a storage room,” Jonghyun called out, his eye trailing around the unusually bright space.
“I know.”
Jonghyun jumped, Kibum’s voice a lot closer than it had been before - he looked through the hole again and Kibum was in the middle of the room, kicking around a few boxes.
“It’s fucking bright in here,” the healer commented, kneeling down to open a box and start sifting through it.
Jonghyun scrambled off of the table and shot out the door, hurrying into the storage room as he knelt down next to Kibum.
“What’s in there?” the hunter asked, tilting his head a bit, looking not unlike a curious puppy.
“Books,” Kibum said, pulling out what looked like a photo album. He frowned, staring at the cover, opening up the binder to see pictures staring right back at him.
“No one has cameras anymore,” Jonghyun said, bewildered as he took the album from Kibum’s fingers, flipping through the pages. “This is old. I don’t even know what that is.” Jonghyun squinted, staring at the picture.
Kibum rolled his eyes and took the book back, “It’s a telephone, you idiot. A cell phone. A long time ago it’s how people communicated over long distances.”
“Why didn’t they just use telepathy?” Jonghyun’s brow furrowed.
“Because, idiot,” Kibum smacked Jonghyun upside the head, “we’re a genetic defect, a result of radio active potatoes. Telepathy didn’t exist back then.”
Jonghyun pouted, rubbing the back of his head as he mumbled a ‘fine, fine’, picking up another photo album and leafing through the photos.
“So how old do you think these are?” Jonghyun asked, stopping on a particular page and staring at a picture.
“Maybe eight or nine hundred years,” Kibum mused, sniffing the pages. “They’re preserved in a special chemical. Only a few photos are faded.”
“This…”
Kibum glanced over at Jonghyun, arching a brow. “What?”
Jonghyun was fixated on a certain picture, tapping it with his finger. “The man in this picture. It… it’s wrong.”
Huffing, Kibum rolled his eyes, a bit slower as he tried to gather his thoughts and keep from hitting Jonghyun again.
“How can it be wrong? These photos were taken hundreds of years ago, you don’t know what they’re supposed to look like.” Kibum sat back and folded his legs to sit Indian style, pulling the album into his lap.
“No, Kibum, it’s not right at all, I know it was taken hundreds of years ago but…” Jonghyun put the album on top of the one Kibum already had in his lap and Kibum almost screamed but instead he looked at each photo, trying to figure out what was so wrong about them.
But as he looked at the photo on the bottom right, Jonghyun’s words came crashing over Kibum like a bucket of ice, his body frozen for a split second before he pulled the picture out from the protective plastic covering, fingers shaking slightly, making the Polaroid more flimsy than it would have been had he been sitting still.
Jinki’s face smiled brightly up at Kibum, innocent and happy as ever, looking exactly how he did now - young, vibrant, handsome. His hair was different, a lighter shade and spiked up but it was definitely Jinki, this man in this picture from decades ago was Kibum and Jonghyun’s best friend and confidante.
“This is definitely not right,” Kibum breathed, wide-eyed as he and Jonghyun stared at the photo.
--
Hot breaths of air puffed into the muggy atmosphere of the abandoned pawn shop, the mood heavy and lucid as two bodies moved together on the large bed tucked in the corner. The springs creaked, the frame bumped against the shabby wall every now and again and soft whimpers punctuated the silence, trapped in the musty four walls of the building.
Minho’s lips trailed over the column of Taemin’s stretched, flushed neck, his naked body undulating against the healer’s, sweat accumulating and mixing between them making the slide of their bodies that much easier.
“M-Minho…” Taemin let out a soft breath, his fingers carding through Minho’s long hair, eyes wet and hooded as he wrapped his legs around the hunter’s waist, their cocks pressing that much closer together.
The healer dropped his head back and let a low moan pass from his lips as Minho’s long fingers encircled the two rutting shafts, stroking along them lazily. Molten hot pleasure roared through Taemin’s veins and his virgin body trembled with the sensations, his eyes slitting open just in time to see Minho dribble some spit onto their erections, mixing with the saliva and the pre-cum to make an amazing friction, Taemin’s eyes rolling back into his head as his back arched and his shoulders dug into the mattress of the bed.
A grunt left Minho’s lips as Taemin’s hands wandered over his sculpted chest, following the dips and planes with his finger tips. Minho lifted a hand to catch the healer’s, bringing it to his lips to kiss the younger’s open palm, Taemin’s eyes fluttering shut.
The candles on the bedside table were burning slowly, giving off a slightly sweet aroma. The chalk drawings on the floor were measured and precise, aligned properly with the stars and the dead Sun, various objects from a shoe all the way to a used fork being placed strategically within the circle.
Jinki sat in the middle of it, legs folded under him as he listened to the acts on the bed, eyes closed as his index finger rested in a puddle of water just in front of his knees. The puddle turned into a stream that flowed all on its own, the aid from Jinki’s energy being pulsated from his fingertip keeping the liquid traveling from the puddle, across the floor, up the leg of the bed, onto the mattress and up the two elite’s legs, past their waists to where their cocks were joined. The water collected the sweat, the spit, the pre-cum, everything it could and channeled it to Jinki’s finger; Jinki’s other hand was resting on what appeared to be an average rock, perhaps volcanic from the color and the texture, a soft green glow emitting from his fingertips and palm.
Minho’s lips encircled one of Taemin’s nipples and the healer whined, bucking up into the older boy’s hand and shuddering, body tensing with how close his release was. Minho sped up his hand on their cocks, thumbing the tips and trailing his lips up Taemin’s neck, over his jaw and finally to his mouth, kissing him deeply. Their tongues met and brushed and mimicked the movements of their frotting cocks, and Taemin’s body shuddered as he came, his first orgasm turning his mind blank and making his body overheat before he collapsed onto the bed, breathless.
Minho halted his movements then, giving his cock a few tugs before letting go of it, sitting back and leaning on his hands, giving Taemin a heated, expectant look. The healer sat up and crawled to Minho’s lap, bending down and lapping at the head of his weeping dick before taking the hot shaft almost completely in his mouth, his throat choking slightly before he steadied his breathing through his nose.
The hunter’s fingers carded through Taemin’s hair, the locks nearly down to those delicate shoulders now. They couldn’t cut it, they wouldn’t cut it, not when Taemin’s entire body was a sanctuary and it was not to be disturbed in any harmful way. Taemin was a chosen one, he had a greater purpose in life and Jinki and Minho made sure to take care of that haven with everything they had.
And as Taemin’s throat mouth and tongue worked along the solid, throbbing length of Minho’s cock, the hunter would gladly worship Taemin any day of the week. The suction of those perfect, fat lips and how his hair draped over his cheeks and tickled along Minho’s thighs was a blissful combination, and soon Minho came as well, his hips bucking a bit as he grit his teeth and groaned low in his throat.
The initial act was done, and Taemin pulled up after swallowing, their lips meeting in a sweet, chaste kiss. Both the healer and hunter moved off of the bed and kneeled down in the circle in front of Jinki, their fingertips touching the puddle that Jinki’s finger was pulsing energy through, the water turning a milky purple. After a few moments of silence, their energies connecting in the liquid and swirling around a bit, Jinki nodded at Taemin, who picked up Jinki’s hand-crafted dagger, turning to Minho.
Minho held his breath as Taemin reached up and gently grasped a lock of black hair. The blade met the strands and cut them away easily, no added breakage from the sharp weapon, and Taemin worked his way around the rest of Minho’s head, taking as much hair off as possible. They could clean it up later with scissors and a razor but for now they needed to finish the ceremony.
Taemin scattered the locks of hair across the circle, the raven strands collecting the energy and glowing a faint purple along with the water, Taemin leaning on his hands and knees to collect the energy in his palms. Wind picked up in the shanty building and blew through them, nearly knocking them over with the gale force, Taemin’s eyes squeezing shut as he started to chant under his breath, the faded purple increasing in brightness every passing second, until the entire building was glowing with the energy.
The rock that Jinki was touching burst to life, brilliant yellow and orange flames erupting from the surface. They were cool to the touch, licking up Jinki’s arm and tickling at his shirt sleeve; Taemin’s chanting got louder and louder over the vortex of swirling wind and just as everything got impossibly loud, the roaring of the wind swooping around shaking the foundation of the building, the chalk drawings on the floor catching fire and flaming up around them, everything went deathly quiet.
The fire faded, the purple energy disappeared, and Taemin collapsed onto the floor of the building, panting and sweaty and shaking a bit. Minho fell forward, bracing himself on his hands and hanging his head, sweat dripping from his brow to his nose to splatter onto the floor and smudge some of the charred chalk.
Jinki stayed upright in the middle, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, before a small smile tugged on his lips.
“One more. One more time with their help and we’ll complete the cycle,” Jinki assured the two younger boys, leaning forward to gently run his fingers through Taemin’s matted, damp hair.
Taemin smiled weakly up at him, eyes fluttering shut from the exhaustion that was taking ahold of his body.
“This better work,” Minho said lowly, straightening in his tall, naked glory, his defined body glinting in the dim sunlight. He ran a hand through his destroyed hair - he wasn’t upset that it was gone now, this had been the only reason he had been growing it out at all - and then quickly dressed himself before he slipped out of the building into the dingy afternoon.
“It’ll work,” Jinki said, to no one in particular since Minho was now gone and Taemin had passed out from exertion. He glanced down at the healer, sliding his fingertips gently over his bare shoulder.
“It has to.”
[ Chapter 6 ---> ]
Progress: 5/?
Pairing: To be decided
Rating: PG-13 ~ NC-17
Warnings: Graphic violence, blood/gore, sexual situations (more to be added)
Summary: In a grisly future, healers and hunters are bred for the specific purpose of keeping order for THEM. But when IT starts to revolt and draft wary healers and hunters to create its own army, it’s obvious that someone is on the inside. Jonghyun and Kibum, the child prodigies of THEM are out to settle the score and find out what really happened - even at the sake of their own loyalty.
A/N: Title is a play on the term ‘cityscape’, which is basically ‘the view of the city’; it’s about wanting to break free from the norm, to escape the life you’re born into, to find yourself and others and do what you want to do with your own life.
[ Prologue] [ 1] [ 2] [ 3] [ 4]
--
The era of the Black Out lasted a period of 50 years. For half a decade the entire Earth was cast in a dark shadow, the people forced to move underground to try and find new resources. Some made it, some didn’t. Scientists were valued above the common man and civil war erupted all over the world, the governments being revolted against by the people for favoring one man over the other. The government tried to consolidate, tried to assure the people that it was for the good of the Earth to save the scientists so that one day they may return to the surface, or maybe to another planet to start new lives for their children and their children’s children.
The Sun’s solar flare had been more violent, more chaotic than anyone had predicted. The protective dome covering the colony on the moon had been blasted away, the population perishing instantly. The flare moved over the moon, the sheer heat of it chipping away part of the surface of the solar being, forever scarring it and turning it lopsided - the tides of the oceans shifted and the Americas got sunk, the rest of the continents losing much of their land mass as the raging ocean consumed viciously.
A hundred years later people surfaced - the ones that didn’t drown - the population morally divided as they saw what happened to their land, to their home, to their Earth. The governments were overthrown and taken over, the people turning barbaric and almost getting rid of the scientists, too; however, the new regime that had taken up residency to unite the alienated nations managed to sway the people and keep the scientists protected.
Five hundred more years were spent articulating and dissecting every little thing that happened to the Earth, to the moon and to the Sun and the surrounding planets and stars, searching for the break that would lead the human race to a different planet to start anew. There was no such luck, however, and as the people divided and started to try and make resources out of what land they still had, odd things started to happen.
The radioactive chemicals in the soil that the people started to grow their produce in was seeping into their system and changing their genetic make-up. The food they ate was contaminated, almost a poison - an epidemic spread over the Earth in the wake of the Black Out, a horrible plague that wiped out half of the population. Those that did survive dubbed the period of twenty years the White Out, continuing on with their breeding and their consumption of the tainted foods. Their children were born, their children had children, and things seemed alright for the next hundred years.
Until one day, a child of about six exercised enormous, atrocious power. A car was flipped when he only meant to shut the door, the vehicle sailing across the street and smashing into a decrepit building. It didn’t take long for more children to show the same astonishing strength; some children could pick up cars, some children could manipulate the energy in their bodies to regenerate wounds.
The scientists picked up on these newfound traits and hypothesized that they were due to the consumption of radioactive food so long ago by their ancestors, but nothing was for sure. The only thing the scientists knew was that these kids were powerful, too powerful, and something like this could change the entire fabric of their lives.
So the government started to recruit the ‘chosen’ children. Special training camps were created to harness the powers of the hunter, and the powers of the healer, and soon the government used them as a control against the people that were once again starting an uprising.
It had been working for quite a few decades, using the army of super humans to keep the people in line, but as with all good comes bad, with the light comes the dark. The government turned corrupt, using all of its funds to fuel their small army, to aid their scientists, the people being forgotten once again. Of course the people would lead another revolt, of course history would split itself into two separate sides.
The government became THEM and the refugees became IT. Factions of healers and hunters split up, IT gathering a few scientists from THEM and using their knowledge to create new training camps, training their chosen ones for war, for genocide, for the good of the Earth and what may come of it.
The precipice of ‘good vs evil’ seems pretty common to anybody. One side wants to maintain peace and order, and one side wants to cause chaos and destruction.
But when ‘good’ and ‘evil’ both use any dirty, violent means necessary in order to beat each other…
Where do the real good guys stand?
--
Kibum ticked his head to the side, getting his blood-soaked bangs out of his vision, hearing the blood spatter against the already soaked floor as he and Jonghyun moved through the lab. Bodies were strewn about, massacred beyond recognition; but their white coats let the two elites know exactly what had happened to these scientists.
IT had caught wind of THEIR new tactics and were doing all they could to prevent THEM from advancing in the current stand-still.
“This is disgusting,” Kibum murmured, his eyes trailing over a man’s face - or at least, where a man’s face had been on the skull, the flesh peeled away from the bone, eyes gauged out and jaw ripped off. “Who would do this?”
“Someone with a huge vendetta,” Jonghyun responded, kicking aside an upturned lab table, wrinkling his nose as a few test tubes shattered, the chemicals mixing with the spilled blood on the floor. “This is pretty sick though.”
“I just want to know how they infiltrated our base,” Kibum said, stepping over the mangled form of what he assumed was a woman. “No one that isn’t affiliated with THEM knows how to get in. The passwords are changed daily.”
“Just another clue that it’s someone on the inside,” Jonghyun said thoughtfully, moving to a counter as he pushed aside a stack of binders, examining a bullet hole in the wall. Some light was pouring onto the surface of the counter, and Jonghyun crawled atop of the table and stuck his eye right up to the hole, looking around.
Kibum rolled his eyes and made his way to the door, opening it and heading down the hallway.
“It’s a storage room,” Jonghyun called out, his eye trailing around the unusually bright space.
“I know.”
Jonghyun jumped, Kibum’s voice a lot closer than it had been before - he looked through the hole again and Kibum was in the middle of the room, kicking around a few boxes.
“It’s fucking bright in here,” the healer commented, kneeling down to open a box and start sifting through it.
Jonghyun scrambled off of the table and shot out the door, hurrying into the storage room as he knelt down next to Kibum.
“What’s in there?” the hunter asked, tilting his head a bit, looking not unlike a curious puppy.
“Books,” Kibum said, pulling out what looked like a photo album. He frowned, staring at the cover, opening up the binder to see pictures staring right back at him.
“No one has cameras anymore,” Jonghyun said, bewildered as he took the album from Kibum’s fingers, flipping through the pages. “This is old. I don’t even know what that is.” Jonghyun squinted, staring at the picture.
Kibum rolled his eyes and took the book back, “It’s a telephone, you idiot. A cell phone. A long time ago it’s how people communicated over long distances.”
“Why didn’t they just use telepathy?” Jonghyun’s brow furrowed.
“Because, idiot,” Kibum smacked Jonghyun upside the head, “we’re a genetic defect, a result of radio active potatoes. Telepathy didn’t exist back then.”
Jonghyun pouted, rubbing the back of his head as he mumbled a ‘fine, fine’, picking up another photo album and leafing through the photos.
“So how old do you think these are?” Jonghyun asked, stopping on a particular page and staring at a picture.
“Maybe eight or nine hundred years,” Kibum mused, sniffing the pages. “They’re preserved in a special chemical. Only a few photos are faded.”
“This…”
Kibum glanced over at Jonghyun, arching a brow. “What?”
Jonghyun was fixated on a certain picture, tapping it with his finger. “The man in this picture. It… it’s wrong.”
Huffing, Kibum rolled his eyes, a bit slower as he tried to gather his thoughts and keep from hitting Jonghyun again.
“How can it be wrong? These photos were taken hundreds of years ago, you don’t know what they’re supposed to look like.” Kibum sat back and folded his legs to sit Indian style, pulling the album into his lap.
“No, Kibum, it’s not right at all, I know it was taken hundreds of years ago but…” Jonghyun put the album on top of the one Kibum already had in his lap and Kibum almost screamed but instead he looked at each photo, trying to figure out what was so wrong about them.
But as he looked at the photo on the bottom right, Jonghyun’s words came crashing over Kibum like a bucket of ice, his body frozen for a split second before he pulled the picture out from the protective plastic covering, fingers shaking slightly, making the Polaroid more flimsy than it would have been had he been sitting still.
Jinki’s face smiled brightly up at Kibum, innocent and happy as ever, looking exactly how he did now - young, vibrant, handsome. His hair was different, a lighter shade and spiked up but it was definitely Jinki, this man in this picture from decades ago was Kibum and Jonghyun’s best friend and confidante.
“This is definitely not right,” Kibum breathed, wide-eyed as he and Jonghyun stared at the photo.
--
Hot breaths of air puffed into the muggy atmosphere of the abandoned pawn shop, the mood heavy and lucid as two bodies moved together on the large bed tucked in the corner. The springs creaked, the frame bumped against the shabby wall every now and again and soft whimpers punctuated the silence, trapped in the musty four walls of the building.
Minho’s lips trailed over the column of Taemin’s stretched, flushed neck, his naked body undulating against the healer’s, sweat accumulating and mixing between them making the slide of their bodies that much easier.
“M-Minho…” Taemin let out a soft breath, his fingers carding through Minho’s long hair, eyes wet and hooded as he wrapped his legs around the hunter’s waist, their cocks pressing that much closer together.
The healer dropped his head back and let a low moan pass from his lips as Minho’s long fingers encircled the two rutting shafts, stroking along them lazily. Molten hot pleasure roared through Taemin’s veins and his virgin body trembled with the sensations, his eyes slitting open just in time to see Minho dribble some spit onto their erections, mixing with the saliva and the pre-cum to make an amazing friction, Taemin’s eyes rolling back into his head as his back arched and his shoulders dug into the mattress of the bed.
A grunt left Minho’s lips as Taemin’s hands wandered over his sculpted chest, following the dips and planes with his finger tips. Minho lifted a hand to catch the healer’s, bringing it to his lips to kiss the younger’s open palm, Taemin’s eyes fluttering shut.
The candles on the bedside table were burning slowly, giving off a slightly sweet aroma. The chalk drawings on the floor were measured and precise, aligned properly with the stars and the dead Sun, various objects from a shoe all the way to a used fork being placed strategically within the circle.
Jinki sat in the middle of it, legs folded under him as he listened to the acts on the bed, eyes closed as his index finger rested in a puddle of water just in front of his knees. The puddle turned into a stream that flowed all on its own, the aid from Jinki’s energy being pulsated from his fingertip keeping the liquid traveling from the puddle, across the floor, up the leg of the bed, onto the mattress and up the two elite’s legs, past their waists to where their cocks were joined. The water collected the sweat, the spit, the pre-cum, everything it could and channeled it to Jinki’s finger; Jinki’s other hand was resting on what appeared to be an average rock, perhaps volcanic from the color and the texture, a soft green glow emitting from his fingertips and palm.
Minho’s lips encircled one of Taemin’s nipples and the healer whined, bucking up into the older boy’s hand and shuddering, body tensing with how close his release was. Minho sped up his hand on their cocks, thumbing the tips and trailing his lips up Taemin’s neck, over his jaw and finally to his mouth, kissing him deeply. Their tongues met and brushed and mimicked the movements of their frotting cocks, and Taemin’s body shuddered as he came, his first orgasm turning his mind blank and making his body overheat before he collapsed onto the bed, breathless.
Minho halted his movements then, giving his cock a few tugs before letting go of it, sitting back and leaning on his hands, giving Taemin a heated, expectant look. The healer sat up and crawled to Minho’s lap, bending down and lapping at the head of his weeping dick before taking the hot shaft almost completely in his mouth, his throat choking slightly before he steadied his breathing through his nose.
The hunter’s fingers carded through Taemin’s hair, the locks nearly down to those delicate shoulders now. They couldn’t cut it, they wouldn’t cut it, not when Taemin’s entire body was a sanctuary and it was not to be disturbed in any harmful way. Taemin was a chosen one, he had a greater purpose in life and Jinki and Minho made sure to take care of that haven with everything they had.
And as Taemin’s throat mouth and tongue worked along the solid, throbbing length of Minho’s cock, the hunter would gladly worship Taemin any day of the week. The suction of those perfect, fat lips and how his hair draped over his cheeks and tickled along Minho’s thighs was a blissful combination, and soon Minho came as well, his hips bucking a bit as he grit his teeth and groaned low in his throat.
The initial act was done, and Taemin pulled up after swallowing, their lips meeting in a sweet, chaste kiss. Both the healer and hunter moved off of the bed and kneeled down in the circle in front of Jinki, their fingertips touching the puddle that Jinki’s finger was pulsing energy through, the water turning a milky purple. After a few moments of silence, their energies connecting in the liquid and swirling around a bit, Jinki nodded at Taemin, who picked up Jinki’s hand-crafted dagger, turning to Minho.
Minho held his breath as Taemin reached up and gently grasped a lock of black hair. The blade met the strands and cut them away easily, no added breakage from the sharp weapon, and Taemin worked his way around the rest of Minho’s head, taking as much hair off as possible. They could clean it up later with scissors and a razor but for now they needed to finish the ceremony.
Taemin scattered the locks of hair across the circle, the raven strands collecting the energy and glowing a faint purple along with the water, Taemin leaning on his hands and knees to collect the energy in his palms. Wind picked up in the shanty building and blew through them, nearly knocking them over with the gale force, Taemin’s eyes squeezing shut as he started to chant under his breath, the faded purple increasing in brightness every passing second, until the entire building was glowing with the energy.
The rock that Jinki was touching burst to life, brilliant yellow and orange flames erupting from the surface. They were cool to the touch, licking up Jinki’s arm and tickling at his shirt sleeve; Taemin’s chanting got louder and louder over the vortex of swirling wind and just as everything got impossibly loud, the roaring of the wind swooping around shaking the foundation of the building, the chalk drawings on the floor catching fire and flaming up around them, everything went deathly quiet.
The fire faded, the purple energy disappeared, and Taemin collapsed onto the floor of the building, panting and sweaty and shaking a bit. Minho fell forward, bracing himself on his hands and hanging his head, sweat dripping from his brow to his nose to splatter onto the floor and smudge some of the charred chalk.
Jinki stayed upright in the middle, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, before a small smile tugged on his lips.
“One more. One more time with their help and we’ll complete the cycle,” Jinki assured the two younger boys, leaning forward to gently run his fingers through Taemin’s matted, damp hair.
Taemin smiled weakly up at him, eyes fluttering shut from the exhaustion that was taking ahold of his body.
“This better work,” Minho said lowly, straightening in his tall, naked glory, his defined body glinting in the dim sunlight. He ran a hand through his destroyed hair - he wasn’t upset that it was gone now, this had been the only reason he had been growing it out at all - and then quickly dressed himself before he slipped out of the building into the dingy afternoon.
“It’ll work,” Jinki said, to no one in particular since Minho was now gone and Taemin had passed out from exertion. He glanced down at the healer, sliding his fingertips gently over his bare shoulder.
“It has to.”
[ Chapter 6 ---> ]