Depraved

Bad Blood Magic

Minho couldn't help it. He'd been fighting for too long- it was the only reaction he had. He beat back a few of them before the sheer number of hands overthrew his technique and held him still. There was rough rope digging into the thin, bruised skin of his wrists and ankles. He cried out as they tightened it.

Soon the men dragged him to a collection of tents where a few fires burned. He was stood in front of the curly-haired man who immediately lifted his sweater.

"You fucking-!"

"Look boys. A bona-fide juice box."

Minho grimaced, turning his head away. He startled at the feeling of a rough warm hand sliding up his stomach and chest. Every time it passed over the branding or any punctures, he got goosebumps- which was quite often.

"I don't think you should be touching me." Minho snarled, twisting out from under his ministrations.

The man smirked, but drew away. "I don't suppose you'll want to take me to your master? Make my life a hell of a lot easier."

He was glad they had not found him a day- or even a few hours earlier- or he really might've led the hunters straight to Chan's front door. Now, he needed the safety they provided. Vampires were bad, but Chanyeol was worse.

"Eat shit."

A few of the men whistled and laughed.

"Wow. A little firecracker." He reclined in a camping chair and forced Minho down into his lap, using a single finger threaded through the rope on his wrists to keep him still. "Don't tell me you're dumb enough to think they care about you?"

"I said eat fucking shit."

"So, you aren't going to help me?" He got serious, fisting a hand in his hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat. Minho felt the flow of his breath along Chan's mark and fought harder, hissing at the twist of the ropes. "They're dead you idiot. How much could they care?"

"Let me go!"

"Let him go." A voice demanded from the other side of the fire.

The curly-haired man sat forward, shoving Minho off his lap and into the dirt. He landed on his knees and right shoulder, unable to put his hands out to protect himself.

"You aren't a part of this Changbin. I'm only including you until we find your friend. So don't tell me how to hunt."

"We don't need to hurt people. He's a victim of theirs too. Just because they didn't kill him, or they made him think they cared, it doesn't mean he isn't worth helping. Stockholm syndrome is real. I'm just saying you should remember that." The man- Changbin replied.

"Every juice box I've ever tried to save didn't make it. They were too damn stupid and brainwashed by then. I mean look at this-" he rucked Minho's shirt up again, exposing his back. The chilly air blew over his many marks.

"Yeah? It's sad."

"It's proof. He's so deeply under their spell that he lets them ravage his skin like this? Lets them bite his waist? His legs?" One of his hands yanked Chan's pants low on his hips and Minho practically screamed with fury.

"Aren't you supposed to be fucking human?! Stop touching me!"

"He's gone Changbin. Look into his eyes. The people that come out of these situations aren't well anymore. I've been saying that since you called. They're just trauma. That's why I always put them down."

Minho froze on the ground. "What?"

"What?" Changbin echoed, gaze dark and heavy.

The man lifted Minho with a hand fisted in the front of Chan's sweater. "They're broken. All of them. Even if I let him go, he'd just spend the rest of his life looking for that fucked-up thing that he lost. For most of them- the vamp is all they think about. All they talk about. I'm actually surprised that this one knows words that aren't 'where is my master'? But he probably can't even get hard without pain. Probably can't imagine living all by himself. He won't make it out there. It's a mercy to kill them."