LOVE BITES -Jeongcheol

13

The flashing lights from the dance floor cast fleeting shadows across Seungcheol's face, the pounding bass matching the erratic thrum of his pulse. He leaned against the bar, nursing his drink as he tried—and failed—not to look. He told himself he wasn't keeping tabs on Jeonghan, but his eyes betrayed him, tracking every lazy sway of the man's hips as he moved into the thrumming crowd.

Then he saw it.

Jeonghan, pressed against someone else, too close, too intimate. The guy's hands rested low on Jeonghan's waist, fingers splayed out like he thought he had the right to touch him. And Jeonghan—God, Jeonghan—tilted his head back, laughing, his lips curled into that familiar smirk that always knew how to taunt, always knew how to drive Seungcheol mad.

Seungcheol's grip on his glass tightened, the cool condensation biting into his palm. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, a dangerous mix of anger and something far more possessive. His jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack.

What the hell is he doing? The thought was sharp, bitter, slicing through the haze of noise and lights around him. Jeonghan's body moved to the beat, his arms draping lazily around the other guy's neck. It wasn't just dancing; it was deliberate. Provocative.

And Seungcheol couldn't stand it.

The sight made something dark twist inside him, an ache that settled deep in his gut and burned like fire. He wasn't just pissed; he was furious, consumed by a possessive rage he couldn't entirely justify. Jeonghan wasn't his—not in the way that mattered. But the idea of someone else touching him, holding him like that, made his skin crawl.

He slammed his drink down on the bar, ignoring the startled glance from the bartender. His vision tunneled, the music and lights fading to static as he pushed through the crowd.

By the time he reached Jeonghan, the music abruptly cut off, the crowd letting out a collective groan of confusion. Someone yelled in the mic, asking everyone to leave. But Seungcheol didn't care who stopped it or why. His focus was singular. He grabbed Jeonghan by the wrist, his grip firm and unrelenting, yanking him away from the stranger without a word.

Jeonghan didn't resist; he didn't even look surprised. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his gaze flickering up to meet Seungcheol's. There was a challenge there, one that only stoked Seungcheol's anger further.

"Seungcheol," Jeonghan drawled, his tone light, teasing. "You–"

"Enough." Seungcheol's voice was low, controlled, but the edge of it was razor-sharp.

Without waiting for a response, he turned, dragging Jeonghan with him through the throng of bodies.

The cool night air hit them as they stepped outside, but it did little to cool the fire raging in Seungcheol's chest. He didn't let go of Jeonghan until they were halfway down the street. He pushed the vampire into a narrow alleyway.

"Why exactly did you come to this club?"

Jeonghan leaned casually against the brick wall, one foot propped behind him, his usual smirk firmly in place. He tilted his head as if genuinely considering the question, though the gleam in his eyes told a different story.

"Why are we having this conversation again?"

"I'm asking you a question. Answer it"

"Why did you mention in your rules that we vampires shouldn't come here?" Jeonghan asked, his voice smooth and calm, but there was an edge of defiance woven into it. "What makes you think you can dictate that? You hate us to that extent? That you can't stand the sight of us? I want the real reason."