Short Nine: Paramour

 

“A lover, especially that of a married or otherwise romantically involved person.”

 

 

 

 

 

Minseok tries to ignore it. Focuses instead on the fingertips pressed lightly to his jaw, on the promises woven between Luhan's plump lips. He  turns his head to the side, neck elongated; baring his pulse to a man with fangs concealed behind open mouthed kisses.

 

Luhan smells rich and deep; musk and earth sparking forest fires in his palpitating heart. The smell is foreign and frightening. By contrast, Minseok smells soft and watery; growing bluebells in teardrops and his sweet naïvety. Luhan does not smell of his boyfriend's lachrymose gardens, he does not smell of Minseok anymore.

 

The latter shudders and his skin bows and breaks around Luhan's silvery tongue. He isn't sure if it's worse that Luhan's once comforting scent still hums under that of his paramour, or better.

 

(Minseok holds the flickering flame of hope in his hands and tends to it carefully when Luhan consumes another.)