Chapter XXV

Yellow Bricks

T his fever taking over Jeremiah's body wasn't something he expected would follow him during this pregnancy. His hormones had never been so wracked, but here he lay sprawled across the plush cloud of his and Min-jae's bed with nothing but hot flashes of need and carnal delirium pumping through his veins.

Every part of Jeremiah was calling for some form of stimulation, be it rough or tender; the level of satisfaction he was looking for was both far away and in total reach.

In their previous sexual instances, Jeremiah had noticed how his body responded to Min-jae's touch, and while he'd been sure it was the Pyrenean that threw open the doors of his sensitivities, these hormones that ravaged through his body seemed more like an aphrodisiac was administered to him. He couldn't turn it off, couldn't turn it down, and regardless of how many times he erupted, another round of ecstasy was waiting for him on the threshold.

"My body is so hot," Jeremiah said, eyes rolling as he leaned on his palms, legs parted, and his entire nether region was on display; cock and entry both drenched from the emission of what cum already expunged from him and was left behind by Min-jae's previous dose. "Everything feels so good, too good," he confessed, voice pained. "But how long is this going to last?"

"Should we stop?" Min-jae suggested. "You shouldn't overwork yourself.

"No!" Jeremiah said, sounding offended. "I can't stop. Don't want to."

Watching Jeremiah fully collapse onto the bed, Min-jae couldn't help but smile and hovered over him, shadow casting across the shivering figure not quite ready to give up on this onslaught of goodness.

Let's see, Min-jae thought, noting how Jeremiah's shoulders flinched when he shifted slightly and they rubbed together. "I'll take things slower this time," Min-jae said. "Just lay here for me, and I'll take care of you until you think it's enough."

Before Jeremiah could open his mouth to respond, his words sputtered, and he gagged when the wet flick of Min-jae's tongue passed over his nipples. All of him was so overstimulated that each pass of Min-jae's tongue caused a wince, and the staggering of his breathing ended with an aching moan.

Cupping Jeremiah's chest, Min-jae's sharp gaze pierced up at his sensitive lover, and he swirled his tongue before licking up toward Jeremiah's collar and to his neck. The sound of blood rushing against his ear and the rapid rhythm of Jeremiah's pulse was sweetly musical.

Min-jae slowly stroked his fingers down Jeremiah's stomach. Being two full months pregnant, there was hardly a notable change in his figure, and when Min-jae circled his fingers around Jeremiah's navel, it was like the gates of heaven were reopening along with the spread of his legs.

He couldn't keep them closed if he tried.

"Further," Jeremiah insisted.

"Hey," Min-jae said in a cool tone, and when the teary, overthrown gaze of this enticing and distraught being met his, the depths of Min-jae's feelings for Jeremiah deepened yet again. "Eyes on me," he seemed to order.

A sharp breath filled Jeremiah's lungs then, and his eyes grew when two practiced fingers circled his entry before sinking easily inside his warmth. Without need to search, Min-jae's digits pressed against the parcel of Jeremiah's prostate.

"Hng!" Jeremiah endured the stroke and reach and curl that plundered his insides. "Min-jae," he let out, cock twitching and dripping all over again. "Min—! Ah-hah, Min-jae! Oh—f…ah."

Slowly stealing his fingers from Jeremiah's tight core, Min-jae looked over his hand. The cum that'd been trapped inside soaked his palm and dripped down to his wrist. Was it strange to consider it a turn on knowing one's own cum existed inside their lover? As what had been poured into Jeremiah commenced to leave him, there was suddenly nothing Min-jae wanted more than to fill him up again.

"W—Why'd you stop?" Jeremiah asked shakily.

Possessed by this balance of urge and weakness taking over Jeremiah's body, Min-jae turned their lips into a kiss and dipped his fingers into the welcoming heat yet again .

Faster this time, he pumped the reach of his touch, licking and sucking Jeremiah's tongue and swallowing his gasps and unsteady calls for more.

It was only when the fierce vibration of Jeremiah's wet hole tightened, and he threw his head back, cock ejecting stream after stream of cum, that Min-jae withdrew his fingers again.

As Jeremiah's lower stomach tensed and his cock continued to flow, Min-jae jerked the other dhampir's length, and Jeremiah curved his back up off the bed with each pump. His waist twisted and turned, and Jeremiah grabbed onto Min-jae's shoulders, shoving him over to lay down and climbing on top.

Straddling Min-jae in the center of the bed, Jeremiah knocked Min-jae's hand aside and coupled their cocks together. He could barely keep hold of his right mind as he worked them.

Hands gripped the top of Jeremiah's thighs, and Min-jae bit his lip the moment Jeremiah leaned forward to then insert him. Appearing as such a spectacle atop the Korean dhampir, Jeremiah moved his hips in tune with his desired rhythm.

Every sensation coming forward was elevated to a height so far out of reach, and with this constant thirst, constant compulsion to satisfy it, Jeremiah was beginning to think his body would never be pleased enough to stop. He was getting tired, but the severe horniness, his insatiable call for more, and the overall pleasure melting his will-power kept his hips turning.

Biting his lip, Jeremiah passed his hands up his abdomen and to his chest, and when his mouth came open and his fangs fully elongated, his heart stumbled when Min-jae clasped his waist and met the drop of his hips halfway.

The hardness at which Min-jae's cock fondled Jeremiah's prostate ripped a wail from his lungs. "A–Again!" Jeremiah winced.

As told, Min-jae's grip on Jeremiah's waist latched and his own hips turned with a hotter purpose. Everything was so remarkable, the obsessions and sensations passing like oxygen into the other, and Min-jae's fondness for this thirst ravaging Jeremiah's needs was something he half-hoped would plague him all day and night.

Their sex on other occasions had been extraordinary, but everything right here and now was clouded with intensity, devotion, and not to mention the company of a fragrance so beguiling, that so long as it stocked the air supply and their lungs, there would be no end in sight, and they'd tangle and turn together until the ability to move was stripped from one of them.

And that's exactly how the entirety of their day was spent: making love and trying to remember to breathe. One could only handle multiple orgasms so many times, and although Jeremiah pleaded for a continuation time and time again, his cum had stopped bursting forward. His climaxes were instead whole body shakes, invisible manifestations that tormented his mind and veins and all pleasure points as the trembling took hold.

From top to bottom, the whole hanok was furnished with a mind bending pheromone. It was beautiful in both their eyes, smelled of the deepest affection and its finest notes.

"I love you," they reminded at the top of every finish. "I love you!"

Again and again.

***

Waking up alone, Jeremiah lay there in the clean covers and plush pillows. Refreshed and nude beneath the sheets, he felt like all the goodness in the world had graced him. His senses were unclouded, his body was light, and while the mildest blanket of fatigue still remained when a yawn escaped him, his all was content.

Smiling to himself as a shade of embarrassment warmed his face, Jeremiah thought about how he and Min-jae spent their previous day. All of it, every hour went uninterrupted, and they'd made love over and over. There'd even been a moment when Jeremiah could have sworn he'd been on the brink of passing out, but nothing in him had wanted to miss a second of such a spectacular day.

Morning, noon, and night; how splendid each had been.

As he attempted to feel for Min-jae's whereabouts in the hanok, Jeremiah furrowed his brow upon not being able to sense him. His own ability to determine and follow the pull of an aura with strong presence was dimmed, but if Min-jae was in fact home, his being near would at least show itself somewhere.

Through the two months spent at each other's side, there wasn't much time to be accounted for when they were apart. If Min-jae were to leave the village, he'd at least announce his departure before heading off.

After throwing on a pair of loose fitting joggers, Jeremiah paused before leaving the room. A long mirror sat opposite the bed; one he'd grown used to scrutinizing his reflection in since this pregnancy began. It was probably a waste to check nearly every day for a change in his figure considering two months wasn't too far along for someone carrying a child. And being built the way he was likely made changes harder to spot.

His body was still incredibly fit and his abdomen was tight, chest quite strong with lean arms and legs. If anything, Jeremiah couldn't see a change anywhere, but he was at least glad to be able to feel it. The individuality of this baby huddled within him was already so apparent. Jeremiah thought he might even be able to determine their mood, but he couldn't be sure if that was just his own mood teetering throughout the day.

Most of his turns in attitude shifted with his hunger, and he chuckled to himself when recalling how he'd just about begged Min-jae for a large helping of red meat. He'd almost been brought to tears when it'd been said no places were open anywhere at one o'clock in the morning. With that, Jeremiah had settled for fish.

Looking over his abdomen, Jeremiah touched both hands to it and smooth down. Maybe the slightest of protrusions was present, but he couldn't be too sure right now.

"Let's go look for your father," Jeremiah said, keeping his hands in place. "I might give him a piece of my mind for leaving without a word."

While it was only a joke, Jeremiah would have appreciated a heads-up. He loved Min-jae and being alone wasn't on his list of things he preferred anymore. Before Min-jae was a known face in his world, being alone was a choice and also something he tried to avoid when he didn't want to be. With someone beside him he enjoyed the nearness of and cared for so absolutely, not being able to know or understand where he was brought his spirits down a notch.

Swallowing the dejection, Jeremiah looked around the entire hanok. When no sign of Min-jae was around, he adorned long socks, a T-shirt, and a warm coat.

One thing he'd never done before until the fullness of Winter rolled around was bundle up properly to shield from the cold. The cold was uncomfortable and bothersome with how jagged it felt against his skin, and his fingers grew to hurt if his hands were without gloves for too long. Despite the irking ability to feel the chill of the season, Jeremiah was at least glad he didn't have to deal with the fears of getting sick because of it.

After strapping on boots at the entryway, Jeremiah stepped into the white-blanketed village. The rolling hills were quite beautiful with their overlay of snow, the dark green of their leaves still thriving regardless of the cold, and the roofs of each home were topped with a layer of white as well. The winding roads and pathways were as clear as they were going to get, and from the peak where Jeremiah stood, he was able to see all of Saengsacho and more. It was so quiet. So beautiful.

Trying as he might to sense Min-jae wherever he was, Jeremiah started away from the hanok with a hood over his head. His being here was already known by a good number of the residents, mostly through his small ventures with Min-jae to the convenience store, but he couldn't say there were any people he'd become very familiar with. He wasn't afraid to mingle and hold conversations here and there, but getting back home as quickly as possible was always his number one goal after stepping out.

With his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, Jeremiah started along the winding road, boots sinking into the few inches of snow as he took in the wintry beauty of the village. The far-off slopes in which the Pyrenean used to thrive were covered in snow now, showing no sign that the flower would ever return, but Jeremiah was sure once the full warmth of the sun returned, and Spring nudged every bit of cold out of the way, the wiry stems of violet and bushels of green would return just as stunning as they'd been before.

Captured by this distraction of the Pyrenean, Jeremiah turned up a path that led between two low stone walls. He headed for the once lively hillside where the underground unit was also stationed. When he glanced over his shoulder toward the homes in his wake, he envisioned the place as it'd been upon his first arrival.

The air no longer held that sweet and welcoming aroma of the violets, and, while beautiful, the village as a whole looked far more somber during Winter than Autumn.

Standing a few meters from the doors of the underground unit, Jeremiah knelt and sifted through the snow, fingers feeling all of the cold and its unique sting as he did so.

Jeremiah spotted the crumbly leaves buried under the layer of ice, now dark brown and looking as though they couldn't possibly restore themselves once the cold was long gone.

Crouched there with his arms folded over the top of his knees, Jeremiah breathed a cloudy sigh, unable to help reflecting on his first run-in with the extract that'd been injected into him. He could agree that he wasn't so different from who he'd been before the run-in, but so many things around him were. Sure, his body was no longer considered resilient, but that was the greatest change he had to live with now on a personal level.

The recklessness of Jeremiah's past could no longer walk with him through time, and as he knelt there and stared blankly at the crumbled fronds, moments of his past played before him. His flesh had been torn into on occasions, skin and muscle tissue ripped from his bones, received grave fractures and he had always walked away feeling nothing. He couldn't live life like that anymore.

Not that he wanted to in the first place, but with pain and death sitting so close by now, his thoughts were seized by the prospect of not being able to suffer the smallest of pains without consequence. Whether it be the recovery time, the aches, or the scars left to remind him of his failures to preserve this body, Jeremiah was no longer safe from affliction.

Unconsciously hugging his arms around himself where he knelt, Jeremiah shielded his fingers from the ache of the cold, but he also embraced this rising comfort passing through him. It seemed something totally detached from himself was trying to ease the disturbance from his thoughts of budding tensions.

Is it you? Jeremiah thought to himself, acknowledging the coziness creeping through him and to his heart. His thoughts shifted to the baby growing in his womb, and while perhaps the personal musings were what brought comfort during this quiet distress, it felt more mellow and warm. Jeremiah also just wanted to believe it was this nurtured seed housed inside his body loosening his despair.

"It's only been two months," Jeremiah said aloud. "I want to hold you now."

So focused on the soothing wave traveling through him, Jeremiah didn't hear the approaching drag of footsteps as they crept up from behind, and it was only when, "There you are, Kyung-hwan," was spoken when he jumped up.

Before him stood an elderly woman Min-jae had pointed out from afar. Knowing her as Kyung-hwan's mother, Mrs. Mok, this was Jeremiah's first time coming face to face with her during his time here. As she looked upon his unfamiliar face, a disheartened shade passed over her eyes and the smile left her mouth.

Min-jae had spoken of how badly he felt for her now that she was the only one of her family left here. With her son dead and grandson nowhere to be found, Jeremiah couldn't imagine how alone she must feel now while not knowing what happened to either of them.

"You're not my son," Mrs. Mok said in disappointment. "Kyung-hwan used to come up here. Is he inside?"

When she gestured to the doors of the underground unit, Jeremiah simply shook his head.

Already a bit hunched over at her age, her shoulders seemed to slump further. "I'm sure he will come home soon," she said, speaking to herself, and she started down the hillside again. "Kyung-hwan and Sujin will come home to me, I'm sure."

With Mrs. Mok having been so in the dark regarding her own son's doing here in the village, Jeremiah couldn't help feeling sorry for her being an elderly woman now living alone in a place she once had family.

Walking after her, Jeremiah matched her pace and held a hand out. "May I help you return home?"

Mrs. Mok said nothing when she placed a hand in Jeremiah's, accepting his gesture, and they moved slowly down the hillside. Her home was the same Jeremiah recalled snatching Sujin from in their second meeting, and while Jeremiah hoped the missing boy was doing well somewhere else, something in him couldn't help but see the unlikelihood of that.

Jeremiah had no grandparents, had never known the love of a grandmother or a grandfather at any point in his youth, but if he did and had lost his parents, he was sure he wouldn't want to leave the familial and loving side of someone as such. He hated to think Sujin was dead, but if Kyung-hwan was…the possibility of Sujin leaving this plane in a similar fashion was almost certain.

Walking Mrs. Mok to her door, Jeremiah made to return home as well but stopped before turning away. "Please, come inside," Mrs. Mok insisted.

While he'd planned to look elsewhere for Min-jae, Jeremiah's heartstrings pulled him along instead, and he entered the quaint dwelling.

Leaving his boots in the entryway, Jeremiah shed from his coat as well and placed it on a hook. "Your home is very beautiful, Halmeonim." It was a bit awkward addressing her as such, as ‘grandmother' , but he didn't want to risk offense and took it as a respectful term anyways.

"Where are you from?" she asked then, heading further into the home, and they ended up in a kitchen area. "You speak Korean very well."

"Thank you," Jeremiah nodded, taking a seat at a small table when she offered a chair. "I've studied a lot of languages in my life in London. Korean is one I've started to speak more often now that I live here."

"Is that so?" she said, preparing an electric kettle. "Who is it you live with?"

"Song Min-jae," Jeremiah answered. "I was looking for him earlier, but I got distracted."

"Oh! Song Min-jae, you say," Mrs. Mok appeared able to smile a little at the name. "He is a fine young man. I have not seen his mother and father in so long. They are a fine pair as well, but it is nice to see Song Min-jae has not decided to leave Saengsacho behind. He has done a lot of good for the area. Such a smart young man, he is. I hope for my Sujin to be like him. Very learned and worthy enough of a good wife."

Jeremiah wasn't sure why his cheeks warmed, but they did, and he smiled.

He couldn't agree more that Min-jae was an incredible man. He'd been able to see how attentive the Korean dhampir was to — not only him — but this place he loved. Given that the village was home to a lot of elderly, he and the other men of Saengsacho aided in taking groceries to people's doorstep, helped at the convenience store, and he was beginning to make preparations for when Spring rolled around. Min-jae talked a lot about his agricultural plans, and Jeremiah loved to listen to him go on and on about them. He'd never known someone with such a passion for something — something as meaningful as cultivation.

Jeremiah couldn't say it was something he could see himself getting his hands dirty for since he'd grown up not quite attaching himself to a goal, more so a fulfilling goal, but Min-jae's aspirations were inspiring. And the idea of someday watching Min-jae harvest things like sweet potatoes alongside their child was…a beautiful picture.

Bringing himself out of his thoughts, Jeremiah's nose was touched by a familiar sweetness and he looked toward the old woman as she sprinkled dried purple petals into a tea filter. While the scent was sweet and seemed tasteful, Jeremiah's veins tensed at the realization of the tea being that of the Pyrenean.

"Excuse me," Jeremiah interrupted. "Do you have anything else to drink, by chance? I — I am allergic to that one."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Mok obliged. "Is barley okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

Jeremiah swallowed nervously. He wasn't afraid to be in the presence of the Pyrenean tea or anything related to it since he could control what entered his body now, but the idea of consuming such with this baby inside him — relying on his intake— frightened him. What if he had drunk it? Would he have ruined his baby's likelihood of resilience?

After two ceramic cups were filled with tea, Jeremiah warmed his hands around the hot cup before bringing it to his lips; it was a little bitter to the taste with a honey-like finish. With a stillness settling in the kitchen, it was a bit awkward as Mrs. Mok merely sipped her helping.

Given that she'd invited him in and seemed to want some company no matter who it was from, Jeremiah took another swig and set his cup down. "Your tea," he said, meeting her eyes, "It seems to be a popular choice here. I had never heard of it until moving. Can you tell me why Saengsacho holds it so dear in the village?"

"The Pyrenean?" she said, "You wish to know the story of it? Well, I'm not so attached to the story since my family moved here ten years ago. In the summer, there is a festival of sorts held to commemorate the defense of this place, and we take part in a ceremony to celebrate the so-called birth of the Pyrenean. It's said to have appeared for the first time in all of Korea once the final invaders retreated to the sea. There is also a belief that the flowers of the hillsides rose due to the blood of the dead soaking into the soil. It soaked so deep, the dandelions that once littered the ground in pockets turned to violets. The blood that is still present in the soil has continued to nourish the flowers through the centuries."

"That is quite the tale," Jeremiah said, a wartime scene playing out in his head. Who's to say something as such never happened, but the myth of the flower's origin was a peculiar one, indeed .

Downing another swallow of her tea, Mrs. Mok set the cup down. "It is also believed the consumption of it wards off evil," she added. "Whether it be an evil that wants to bring harm to the village, or an evil that walks in the flesh; the Pyrenean will bring it to its weakest form so that it cannot cause harm." She chuckled then and smiled toward the empty cup. "My sweet Sujin drinks it religiously in hopes it will protect him from ghosts. He has such an imagination."

"I see…"

Taking in the story, Jeremiah watched as Mrs. Mok returned her cup to the sink and began washing up around the kitchen. It was bizarre for Jeremiah to consider any of the sort to be true, but who was he to think nothing of it when vampires, lycans, beings such as the creators of their kind, and other creatures that lurked under the noses of mortals were in fact real?

A great portion of who he used to be had been taken from him after one encounter. He didn't want to think of himself as someone considered to be malevolent; he liked to think he'd lived as quiet a life as he could thus far. He'd never meant to harm an innocent person, had hardly ever held any true hatred for anyone since he was small, and yet…here he was now, broken down to a state so unlike his previous self. The thought of living through what events he'd already triumphed through seemed like such a miracle now.

I'm not evil, Jeremiah pondered to himself.

Finishing his cup as well, Jeremiah stood and placed it beside Mrs. Mok on the counter. "Thank you for the tea," he said. "I'm going to head home now. If there is anything you ever need, you can always come to Min-jae and I. I…I hope your son and grandson return to you soon."

As if she hadn't heard a word, Mrs. Mok appeared to get an idea, and, to herself, she said, "I'll go to the store tomorrow. I have to prepare for Sujin's birthday."

Unsure what to say, if anything, Jeremiah bid the old woman farewell and started out. He felt sorry for her, but there was nothing he could do.

Upon returning home, the moment Jeremiah shut the door on the cold and stepped out of his boots, Min-jae slid to a stop at the head of the entryway. His eyes were wide and before Jeremiah stepped up and could ask what was wrong, he was pulled into an embrace. "Where were you?" Min-jae just about demanded. "I looked everywhere for you."

Able to feel Min-jae's tension, Jeremiah held on a bit tighter, tucking his nose against the silk of the Korean dhampir's hair. "I went to look for you, too, but I got sidetracked. I'm sorry."

"As long as you're okay," Min-jae breathed, leading Jeremiah into the living area. "I would have woken you up, but you were sleeping so soundly, and I wanted you to get your rest while I was out."

"What were you doing?"

"Are you interested in composting?"

"Not really…"

Min-jae laughed and took a seat beside Jeremiah on the sofa, noticing the faint distance in his eyes. "Did something happen while you were out?"

"Would you consider me evil if I told you I've killed dozens, if not, well over a hundred people?"

The question seemed to smack Min-jae in the face, throat clogging, and he said, "I'm sure—."

"Without knowing why I did it," Jeremiah added. "Would you consider me evil just knowing that information? "

As Min-jae grappled with his refusal to answer such a question, Jeremiah breathed a heavy sigh and leaned against his lover's shoulder. He was embraced then, by Min-jae and by the comfort that'd assured him when he'd been alone not long ago.

"The things I've done," Jeremiah said, "The people I've killed, I had reason to do so, but they were still people whose blood now stains my hands. I've taken fathers from their children, children from their parents. No matter the reason, I slaughtered them and have never regretted the deaths I've caused. I don't want our child to ever know that part of me, Min-jae."

Turning his nose against Jeremiah's temple, Min-jae kissed him there and sat back on the sofa, holding onto this person he could never see as anything other than fair and marvelous. He brought a hand to Jeremiah's stomach, acknowledging their creation and his lover's warmth all at once.

"Our son," Min-jae said, "Our daughter, they will know you as the person you show yourself to be, and I know you will mean so much and more to them. Just as you are my everything in this moment, our child will love you and treasure the fact that they came from you."

Having heard what it seemed he needed, Jeremiah placed his hand atop Min-jae's as well; his touch had yet to leave his stomach, and there they all laid in joint blissfulness.

"Us," Jeremiah corrected. "This child will have come from us. I'm glad I get to call you the father of this baby, Min-jae, and I'm glad I get to call you mine."