Archive of Our Own

“So, what brings a man like you to town?”

The voice is soft and lilting, with just enough sharpness to make it a tease, and when Changbin looks up, he has to do a double take. 

He shouldn’t be surprised that the barkeep is speaking to him, not when he’s sitting right at the bar; however, it’s how close he is that startles Changbin. From the dim light of the tavern, he had already known the man was handsome, a sculpture of a sharp nose and angled jaw, but now, leaning in, he sees just how breathtaking the barkeep is: his smooth skin, his full lips, his feline eyes.

Changbin smiles and indicates the sword strapped to his back. “Why don’t you take a guess?”

“Hmm.” Tapping his lip, the barkeep trawls his gaze up and down Changbin’s body in a way that brings heat to his stomach. “Too clean to be a soldier. Too well-mannered to be a mercenary. Too handsome to be an assassin.” His eyes light up, and he claps his hands together. “A knight, perhaps?”

A pretty face and a cunning mind—Changbin’s weakness. “You’re correct,” he says, tipping his drink towards the barkeep in congratulations. “The king got word that there’s a dragon in the area, and I’ve been sent here to slay it.”

“Oh,” the barkeep stretches the word out, turning it into a purr. “A dragon. How frightful.” 

“You haven’t seen it, then?”

He shakes his head. “I have not. I haven’t got the nerve to look around for it.”

“You certainly won’t find it around town,” Changbin says. “Your chances are much more likely in the forest or in the mountains.”

The barkeep bites his lip. It turns a captivating rosy shade of pink. “That’s a good thing, then. The forest terrifies me.”

“There won’t be much to be afraid of once I’m done with my work,” Changbin reassures him.

“Really?” A slow flutter of his lashes, and then a coy smile spreads across the barkeep’s lips. “Then I hope you find this dragon, Sir…”

“Changbin.”

“Changbin,” repeats the barkeep slowly, swirling the name across his tongue, tasting it like a complex wine. He reaches out a hand. “I’m Minho.”

“Minho.” Changbin takes his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

With a job like his, Changbin gets the chance to travel a lot and see many different types of people, but he doesn't think he’s met anyone quite like Minho.

Despite having to do his job, Minho manages to keep his attention on Changbin for most of the night, listening to his (admittedly) braggadocious stories and laughing at his cheesy jokes. His charm is complex: his tongue is thorny as a rose one moment, but then sweet as candy the next, and Changbin finds himself enamored by it. They’ve only just met, but Minho is easy to get along with, not to mention easy on the eyes. And he’s not shy about how he feels; how his eyes linger and how his hands brush against Changbin’s, leaning across the bar just close enough for him to know it’s all on purpose. 

That’s how Changbin finds himself in the backroom of the tavern, caging Minho against the shelves and hungrily kissing him. He’s not quite certain how they got there—probably something to do with that mischievous gleam in Minho’s eye as he announced the last call—but he can’t really bring himself to care about it now with Minho licking into his mouth like his life depends on it. There’s a smoky quality to the way he smells and tastes that fogs Changbin’s mind with so much desire that he nearly gets lost in it, enough so that he’s close to ripping apart Minho’s shirt just to get to his collarbone.

“Do you have a room here?” Minho asks when they take a momentary break for air.

Changbin thinks for a moment, then swears. “Fuck. I got distracted.”

The smile Minho gives him glints with impishness. “Did you now?”

Unwillingly to dignify that with a verbal response, Changbin just lifts him up, pressing him back against the shelves and sealing their lips together again. He’s warm in Changbin’s arms, his cheeks pink from their fervor as skin brushes against skin. Minho momentarily gives into the kiss, his legs coming up to wrap around Changbin’s waist, but he pulls away again to murmur, “Come back to my place.”

“You live by yourself?”

“Yep.” Minho leans over to bite Changbin’s ear; he has to take another moment to steady himself. “And you won’t have to worry about neighbors.”

Though Changbin is reluctant to let go of Minho, he knows it’s probably for the better—there’s no missing the exasperated look the innkeeper gives Minho on their way out. 

The moon is a sliver in the sky, barely visible beyond the clouds, but Minho seems to know the town like the back of his hand. He leads Changbin by the arm as the buildings become sparser and sparser, trees overtaking where people might live.

It’s quiet. “How far?” Changbin whispers.

“Not too far,” Minho answers. “Just beyond the trees.”

“You live in the forest?”

“I guess you could say that.”

Changbin stops. Something feels… off. “I thought you said you were afraid of the woods.”

Minho hums and wraps himself around Changbin’s arm; shakes a little bit. “I am. But I’ve got you, haven’t I?” He’s close enough now that when he speaks, his lips brush Changbin’s cheek.

He’s as hot as coals, Changbin realizes, his warmth burning through their clothes. Changbin turns his head to meet his eyes, and his stomach drops.

Minho’s eyes—they’re glowing . As golden as the sun, with slitted pupils like a lizard’s. 

Trying to steady his breath, Changbin’s hand slowly inches toward his belt. “You flatter me,” he says. “I bet you say that to all the knights.”

“Just the cute ones here to save us from dragons,” Minho says. He winks. 

Changbin attempts a flirtatious smile. “Then I’ll make sure I succeed—I’ve never failed before.”

Just as Changbin’s finger brushes against the hilt of his dagger, a hand whips out and latches onto his wrist. Minho’s grip is impossibly firm—Changbin can’t even move an inch. “Never failed before, huh?” Minho grins, teeth sharp as knives and eyes even more dangerous than that. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Changbin’s world goes black. 

When he comes to, the last place Changbin expects himself to be is in a bed. 

His world comes back to him clearly, as if he’s had a very well-rested sleep. The bed is comfortable, the blankets tucked around him cozy, and the fireplace in the bedroom crackling merrily. From beyond the bedroom door, he hears soft humming, and it’s the sound of that that snaps Changbin back into the frame of mind he should be in. 

He has no bruises and aches, likely knocked out by the dragon’s magic. Changbin can usually feel magic from a mile away, but Minho must be truly powerful to get away with it. He must be confident in that and his other abilities, because when Changbin slowly sits up, he finds himself unbound—even his weapons are still on him. Minho might not even know he’s awake, judging by the peaceful singing. 

There’s a window in the bedroom, and all Changbin can see beyond it is the woods, dark and foreboding. He’s not familiar with the lay of the land, but he doesn’t have another choice, not when he’s dangerously underprepared to face a dragon of Minho’s caliber.

Changbin takes in a breath. Then, he stands up, wraps the blanket around himself, and hurtles through the window.

The glass is sturdy, but no match against Changbin’s brute strength, so it shatters into pieces and rains down upon him. Thankfully, the blanket stops the glass from piercing Changbin’s skin, and he disentangles himself from it as he sprints away from the cabin. 

There’s no way that Minho doesn’t hear the commotion, but for a miraculous minute, all Changbin can hear is the sound of his own breaths as he runs through the forest. It’s possible that Minho has no idea what direction he’s run off in, and headed in a different direction. Changbin thinks he knows the path to the next village, so if he just makes it, he can send a messenger to Chan to request some backup. 

Then, a violent gust of wind blows through the forest, nearly bowling Changbin over. The night, as moonless as it is, suddenly gets much, much darker—something enormous eclipsing the sky above him. 

Heart in his throat, Changbin dares a glance over his shoulder and sees it: a dragon, serpentine and god-like, soaring through the skies, glowing eyes trained directly onto him. 

Changbin knows he can’t outrun Minho. He finally gets his hand on his dagger, unsheathing it and launching it at Minho as he draws closer. It’s easy for Minho to dodge, but his sidelong movement distracts him long enough for Changbin to draw his sword and steady himself in an open field, with just enough light to make out the glittering shine of Minho’s scales. 

When Minho dives at him, Changbin rolls over, just narrowly missing being clipped by Minho’s talons. But he’s still disoriented by the rumble of the earth as Minho drops down on it, towering over Changbin with calculation in his eyes.

Minho’s not the largest dragon Changbin has come across, but he’s fast and wily. He darts in and away from Changbin’s advances, surprisingly light on his feet given his size, and swipes at Changbin in his moments of weakness. If Changbin wasn’t as experienced as he was he would’ve been injured five times over, but he knows he’s not in a place to win just yet. 

Finally, Changbin manages to slice across Minho’s talon when he overreaches, tearing across the scales and drawing blood. Surprise flashes in Minho’s eyes, and he stumbles back, paralyzed, attention darting between the drops of blood welling from the cut and the sword. 

But Changbin doesn’t have time to celebrate his minor victory—he’s already taken off in the other direction. The clouds have parted a bit, letting the starlight lead him in the right direction. He can’t be far from the next village now, and Minho won’t recover fast enough for him to track him as he winds through the trees. 

It’s a close call, but Changbin is used to them. He just needs to plan ahead next time, and not get distracted by—

Before he can even finish the thought, it’s as if lightning strikes, bright and furious and instantaneous, and something slams into Changbin, knocking the wind out of his lungs. His sword goes flying, the rest of him pinned to the ground. He can’t move; can barely breathe.

Minho towers over him now, claws bearing down on Changbin with immeasurable strength. Those radiant eyes of his are unreadable, but they still burn into Changbin. He struggles against that iron-clad grip, and then Minho huffs, exhaling smoke; it’s the same sweet smoke Changbin had smelled and tasted earlier when he had pressed Minho to the wall, and now it surrounds him, vision swimming and heart racing. Something other than fear sparks in his mind. 

In the blink of an eye, Minho is human again, albeit still with his horns and claws, now caging Changbin with his entire body with no less power than he had as a dragon. It almost doesn’t matter, with how quickly Changbin is losing strength. 

“Smart. Dragonsbane on the sword.” Minho clicks his tongue. “Could’ve gotten me there. Good thing I’m quick to recover.”

Changbin follows his line of sight to his hand, where only a hint of red marks his skin, healed right before his very eyes. Minho is no ordinary dragon, magic thrumming through him like blood, and it’s then that Changbin realizes that he’s being toyed with. He shuts his eyes and grits out, “Stop playing with me. If you want to kill me, just kill me now.”

“Oh, Changbinnie,” Minho coos. “You’re so fun, I couldn’t help myself. But I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then, what do you want?”

Leaning in, Minho breathes out smoke again, forcing Changbin to inhale it. His mind goes hazy. “Isn’t it obvious?” Minho asks, and he presses his thigh against Changbin’s groin.

Changbin lets out a groan, and then he realizes: he’s hard .

It can’t be that startling—the spike of adrenaline as he was running, the rush of fear as he’s being hunted and pinned down. But it’s that smoke that Changbin has been breathing in that’s clouding his mind. Desire, a slow-burning fire, seeps into his veins, draining his energy from him. He goes boneless in Minho’s hold.

“You put up such a good fight,” Minho murmurs, letting go of one of Changbin’s wrists and gently stroking his cheek. “So strong, so brave. But so cute like this.” He flexes his thigh, and arousal zips up Changbin’s spine; he barely bites back his whimper. “I bet you’d look even better crying on my cock.”

Changbin has fought scores of dragons and defeated all of them, and his pride should be snarling at him right now, telling him to fight Minho with everything that he has. But all Changbin can think about now is how good Minho feels against him, how intoxicating he smells. Any shame he has only amplifies his arousal. 

“Please,” he croaks. 

Minho smiles—a predator’s smile, finally getting his prey. “Good boy.”

Changbin’s stupefied mind only takes in what happens next in flashes: Minho turning back into a dragon, holding him gently in his talons as they fly back to the cabin, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the desire burning through his skin. He only comes back to himself when Minho all but throws him onto the bed, stripping him of his armor and underclothes, crawling on top of him to finally, finally kiss him again. 

Minho’s hands wander appreciatively over Changbin’s arms, his chest, his belly, his ass, claws digging into his skin as their lips move furiously. He’s still dressed, and Changbin can’t have that. He whines and pulls at Minho’s clothes. “Off.”

“So impatient,” Minho whispers against his lips. Changbin pouts at him, and Minho giggles before pulling back to undress himself.

If Changbin had thought Minho was beautiful with his clothes on, he is something else bare before him. He is as strong as Changbin had imagined he might be, having felt the muscle flexing around him earlier, and his skin gleams in the dim light of the fire. He’s wholly unprepared for the patches of scales running down his sides, glittering like jewels. But it’s when his gaze moves lower that Changbin’s eyes widen. 

Minho’s cock, it’s— “so big,” Changbin breathes. “Will that fit inside me?”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Against his will, Changbin’s cock twitches, and he lets Minho pull his thighs apart and settle between them. 

He doesn’t know when Minho had the time to find oil, but he’s soon pressing a finger into Changbin’s hole. It’s been a while since Changbin has been with anyone like this, so even the first two fingers are a bit of a stretch. Minho seems to know what he’s doing, and, soon enough, Changbin finds himself writhing with the three fingers that Minho is pumping into him.

“So pretty,” Minho marvels. He scissors his fingers and more precum spills from Changbin’s cock. “Ready to take more?”

Changbin can’t trust himself to speak, but he still keens when Minho adds in a fourth finger. The stretch of it burns, enough so that Changbin has to fist his hands in the sheets to ground himself. Some sort of clarity hits him then, that he’s in bed with the enemy—not just in bed; all but begging for it—but all of that disappears when Minho kisses him again, his smoky taste fuzzing over Changbin’s worries. 

He strokes Changbin’s side gently. “You’re doing so well.”

“It’s—” Changbin swallows. “It’s so much. I don’t know if—”

Minho shushes him with another kiss, then lowers himself between Changbin’s legs. “I’ll take care of it.”

The first brush of Minho’s tongue against Changbin’s hole is a surprise, although a welcome one at that. It feels good, Minho’s warm mouth lapping at his rim, his fingers spearing in and out of him, but then Changbin feels the rush of magic through his body, and his hole relaxes, sucking in Minho’s fingers with ease. He’s so fucking loose now, so fucking wet, and he needs more. 

“M-Minho,” he gasps out. “Please. It’s—” He nearly bites his tongue when Minho crooks his fingers into his spot, legs jerking. “I’ll—please—p-please, I need you inside of me.”

Minho groans. “You beg so well—how can I resist you?”

Changbin feels so empty when Minho pulls his fingers out, whimpering helplessly at the loss, but then Minho is flipping him over, forcing his ass up, and then there’s something pressing up against his hole. He’s been stretched out, yes, but as the tip of Minho’s cock presses in, a moment of panic comes over Changbin, and he squirms. “Wait, I don’t—! I-I can’t—”

“You can take it,” Minho murmurs, pausing just a little. “I know you can.”

He’s right—the stretch doesn’t hurt at all, and Changbin lets himself relax as he adjusts. It feels good, almost too good, and it’s torture that Changbin can’t grind his cock against the bed. He whimpers, trying his best not to pant too desperately. Then, suddenly, in one smooth thrust, Minho forces his cock all the way in. 

Changbin comes just like that, completely untouched.

His toes curl and his eyes roll back, bright white flashing in his mind. It’s the best orgasm he’s ever had, pulsing through his body in waves, making him forget himself for a wonderful moment.

And Minho doesn’t just push in—he sets a harsh pace, fucking into Changbin as his hole flutters around Minho’s cock. “You’re so tight,” he manages out, hips slamming against Changbin’s. “Feels so much better than I thought you would.”

Changbin jostles against the bed, his knees giving out completely. He tries to grab at the sheets, but his body refuses to obey him, even the slightest attempt to hold onto anything too exhausting to muster up. “M-Minho, I—It’s too much—”

Minho grabs his hips, forcing him up, the force and speed of his thrusts not slowing down even for a moment. “You’re a good boy, I know you are. It’s gonna feel so good, I promise.”

Changbin isn’t so sure. He’s so sensitive that every brush of his skin feels like he’s being burned—which it really feels that way, doesn’t it? Because Minho is so hot around him, inside of him, his claws pricking at his skin. It’s pleasure-pain sizzling through his blood, overwhelming him. 

He’s crying now. Tears run down his cheeks as Minho fucks into him relentlessly and he buries his face into the pillow to muffle his sobs. “Please! H-hurts.”

“Oh, poor thing,” Minho says, not sounding like he quite means it. He leans in and drapes himself over Changbin’s back. Forcing Changbin’s head to the side, he breathes smoke into his mouth. A deeply buried part of Changbin tells him not to inhale, but Minho’s thrusts have turned Changbin’s breathing into hiccups, and the smoke enters his lungs. The pain of the overstimulation dulls, melting away into bright, hot flashes of pleasure that have Changbin drooling into the sheets. “Better?”

There’s not much left in Changbin’s mind to string together a sentence, every fiber of his being focused on the way Minho is pounding into his hole. “Y-yes,” he manages to slur out, “s’good. Feel sooo g-good.”

"Good boy." Minho sounds pleased, and a primal part of Changbin preens at this. He changes the angle of his thrusts, and a jolt of pleasure wracks Changbin's body as he hits the spot that he had found earlier when fingering Changbin. He laughs when Changbin moans weakly as he hits the same spot over and over. "There we go. You like that, don’t you? Just like I thought you would."

Changbin's second orgasm doesn't quite take him by surprise as the first one did, but it builds much faster than he anticipated, heat coiling tighter and tighter in his gut before he's gasping for air again. With his remaining strength, he wriggles his hips against Minho, and Minho meets him there, slamming into his hole until he's coming again, spurting more cum onto the sheets. His mind goes blank this time, his body twitching helplessly as Minho keeps fucking him. That part of him that argued before is gone, no hesitation when Minho leans in to feed him more of that smoke. 

Changbin doesn't know how much time passes—everything turns into a haze of pleasure. He comes again when Minho gets him on his side, pulling his thigh behind him and wrapping his other hand around Changbin's throat, whispering filthy words into his ear until he's whining and drooling. Another orgasm when Minho sets him in his lap and uses that inhuman strength of him to drag him up and down his cock like he weighs nothing.

“I-I want more,” he thinks he says. “Don’t stop. Fuckfuckfuck . Keep going. Keep going.”

By the time Minho has him on his back, pressing him into the bed, Changbin has lost track of how many times he’s come; all he knows is that as long as Minho kisses him, the pleasure never ends.

If Changbin was in an even slightly more lucid state, he’d notice how Minho has grown in size, his body almost covering Changbin’s entirely on the bed. Scales cover his back instead of skin, and his sharp teeth leave bloody marks on Changbin’s skin as he mouths at the sweat gathering on his collarbone.

But all Changbin knows is the pleasant stretch of Minho’s cock, filling him up so well that he can feel him in his belly. Out of a lust-drunken curiosity, Changbin moves his hand to his stomach and actually feels the bulge fucking in and out of him in time to Minho’s thrusts. Minho groans as Changbin rubs the bulge, and the rumble of his body against Changbin’s jostles Changbin’s cock. He lets out a weak cry and comes again, dry this time.

Still, he babbles, “ Moremoremore. ”

”Fuck,” Minho grunts, “you’re perfect. There’s no way I can let you go after this.”

As he shudders through this orgasm, Minho’s pace stutters, his last bit of control snapping, and he fucks into Changbin so hard that he knows he will feel it for days. But it doesn’t really matter, not when Minho is finally coming, cum pumping endlessly into Changbin, spilling out of where they’re joined. Changbin thinks he feels something else, round and large, pushing into his body alongside the cum, and the foreignness of it tips him over the edge for the last time.

He doesn’t even have the energy anymore to moan; his back arches, and his mouth opens in a soundless scream as his body twitches around Minho involuntarily. What Minho has done to him is in his blood, in his bones, in his marrow; so deep that Changbin will always crave it. 

But for now, his body is spent and his consciousness blinks in front of him.

Before he gives in, he feels Minho kiss his cheek and whisper, “You’re mine now, you know that? All mine to use, to fuck, to own.” He brings a hand down to rub Changbin’s belly, pressing against a swell that wasn’t there before. “You’re gonna give me such pretty babies.”