Chapter Text
The councilmen glance at the window, but none think too much of it.
“Let us see, gentlemen, the best routes,” Yixing said. He stands up, moving away from the window towards the map Yifan had strategically placed.
“From the river —,” Yixing’s voice was cut off as something ripped through the paper window, impaling into the wall right where he had been standing moments before. The councilmen stood up, panicking.
“Assassination!” the Minster of Education yelled, “an assassination attempt on the prince!”
“Close the East Garden!”
Yixing sits in the throne room, perfectly still and composed. The councilmen sit around the room, fingers twirling nervously. Yifan yawns and stretches his legs out, earning a glare from Yixing.
“You need to calm down, little brother,” Yifan murmured, “I’ve told you, the guards that were on patrol tonight were all mine—there was no way they would have missed the archer. Must I remind you that I am the most gifted warrior in this land? I train my inner circle myself. No fears.”
“This plan cannot fail,” Yixing muttered back, “if I’m wrong, I’ll be humiliated.”
“But you won’t be wrong,” Yifan said, nodding towards the doors. Two guards dragged a third man between them, his wrists bound by chains, the side of his face covered in blood. Yixing flashed back to Junmyeon all those months ago. No, Junmyeon didn’t have a choice. This man tried to kill me.
“Speak, what is your name?” Yixing called out to the bloodied man.
“I have no name,” the man spit out.
“Be glad it’s my soft-hearted brother asking the questions,” Yifan growled, “if it were up to me, you’d be brought within an inch of death before I even let you open your mouth to plead.” The man didn’t look fazed, instead glaring right back at Yifan. Yixing stood up and walked a few steps closer to the man.
“I think I recognize you,” Yixing said, “you are a stablehand, are you not? Your name is Guo Weidong, correct?” At the mention of his name, the man stiffened. Yixing racked his brains. He typically made it his business to know some of the palace servants, but Weidong had caught his attention; simply no one had ever become the Head Stablehand after only three months. There was more to his story. There had to be. Yixing racked his brains.
“Who forced you into doing this?” Yifan asked, interrupting Yixing’s thoughts.
“No one, I did this myself,” the man replied. His tone was clipped and his words curt. Aha!
“You have an ailing father, a deceased mother, and two younger siblings to care for, do you not?” Yixing asked suddenly. The man whipped his head toward him.
“Are you going to threaten me with their lives?” The man whispered.
“If I must,” Yixing said. He hated himself for that. Hated that he had just used innocent lives in the chessboard for the crown. But he needed the evidence.
“Please, don’t,” the man whispered again, “they’re too young. I’ll do anything, please.”
“Then tell us, who forced you?” Yixing said gently. The man looked torn between betraying a master and betraying his family.
“It was him. The Second Prince,”
“The Second Prince, you say?” Yixing repeated, louder for the councilmen to hear.
“Yes, please spare my family,”
“Take him away,” Yifan waved his hand, “I don’t want to ruin the rug with blood today.” The chattering amongst the councilmen only grew louder as the man’s yells and pleads grew farther and farther away.
“What are you going to do now?” Yifan whispered.
“Play the game, like always, ” Yixing said. He moved to sit with the councilmen, faking shock and disbelief.
“My own brother? Murder me?” He asked quietly. The Minister of Education raised an eyebrow for a brief moment, but caught on quickly.
“This is no news to me,” the Minister said loudly, “We always knew that the Second Prince was a jealous and spiteful one. Don’t you all agree?”
“What should we do?” Yifan asked, pushing the game along.
“He needs to be punished, but how so?” the Minister asked, looking to Yixing, “it is you he tried to kill. Not only that, but as Crown Prince, you have the authority to punish him. How do you see fit?”
“Imprison him for now,” Yixing said, “It is too late in the night to deal with punishment. Councilmen, I bid you all good night and apologize for keeping you all here so late, but as you can see, things did not go according to plan.”
But it went exactly to plan.
Junmyeon was awoken from his slumber when he felt the other side of the bed dip. He shifted, groggily sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Yixing whispered, unclasping his robe in favor of putting on a more comfortable one.
“‘S okay,” Junmyeon muttered, yawning, “is everything alright?”
“Better than alright,” Yixing smiled. Junmyeon smiled back tiredly.
“Let’s get some sleep, it’s almost dawn,” Yixing said, pulling Junmyeon into the pillows with him. Junmyeon snuggled into his chest and Yixing felt his heart swell. Gingerly, he put his arm on Junmyeon’s waist, unsure of whether or not he was overstepping boundaries. But when Junmyeon didn’t shake him off and fell asleep instead, Yixing felt a small puff of pride.
“You stupid, stupid little girl,” Meimei said to herself as the room swayed again. Her limbs were stiff and aching and her head hurt. Just the sound of her own blood in her veins made her tired and irritable. She had touched the plant as she wiped it off of the prince’s coals. The stupid, poisonious plant would be the end of her. Fine, let it be, she thought, maybe this is for the better. Better than the interrogations that are sure to follow.
“One potato, two potato,” she counted to herself. This was the only way she could keep from collapsing. The poison was flooding her lungs, seeping into her blood. She was shivering with cold, despite burning with fever.
“Three potato, four potato,”
Yixing hates the smell of the prison underneath the castle. Yifan has more or less gotten used to the smell of the dungeon and its metallic blood and wet stone walls.
“Let’s see the first prisoner first,” Yixing whispered, “save the best for last.” Yifan nodded wordlessly, anxious to leave. They walk down the corridors lit by torches, before turning the corner and facing the archer through the bars.
“Good morning,” Yixing greets. The man looks up from his small tower of hay.
“Please spare my family,” the man said again. Yixing sighed.
“I know you were forced, and I know you had no choice,” Yixing began, picking his words carefully, “yet you still are a danger to others and yourself. For your crimes against the Crown, your punishment is as follows. You will be demoted to stablehand; your position as Head will be forfeited. You will be docked one month’s pay.” At this the man looks bewildered.
“You aren’t going to kill me?” he asked. Yixing shook his head.
“I am merciful, but not merciful enough,” Yixing said, “for your crimes, you will lose the first two fingers on your right hand, so you can no longer draw a bowstring.”
“Is that all?” the man asked. Yixing nodded.
“Thank him for sparing your wretched life,” Yifan growled. The man immediately bowed to Yixing.
“Thank you, Crown Prince,”
“No,” Yixing whispered, “thank you for helping me prove my case.”
“You are too soft,” Yifan said as he and Yixing moved down the gloomy corridors.
“I am merciful,” Yixing corrected.
“There exists a fine line between mercy and weakness,” Yifan said.
“Yes, and if you stand on the other side of the line, we can balance each other out,” Yixing said.
“You really plan on making me your General?” Yifan asked, surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Yixing asked, “You are the most gifted warrior of this land. I would be a fool not to ally myself with the powerful.”
“No, I just thought —” Yifan started. Yixing knew what he was going to say, so he put his hand up to silence Yifan.
“Not now,” he said, “not ever.”
I just thought you’d want me dead, so I wouldn’t be a threat to your throne.
“Little brother?” Yishuo choked on his laughter. A night in the dungeons had served him ill. Dirt and soot covered his face and hands, yet the evil smirk was ever present.
“Ohh, two little brothers here to see my demise,” Yishuo laughed, “what brings the two of you here tonight?”
“I brought you a gift,” Yixing said, setting down the wooden box. Yishuo only raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I did, and you know what my intentions were, so why don’t you just end this now and get over with it?”
“Let’s have a drink, between the three of us brothers,” Yixing said, taking a seat on the dirt floor. Yifan took the adjacent side, leaving Yishuo the farthest from the door.
“In a seat of honour, I see,” Yishuo said, but held out his hands for the small golden wine cup Yifan held out to him anyway. Yixing, as the youngest, filled each cup with the same wine.
“To the mandate of heaven, and may it bring its luck to this land,” Yixing said.
“To moving forward and pursuing your dreams,” Yishuo said.
“To everlasting peace and unblind justice,” Yifan finished.
The brothers drank.
Yixing and Yifan have just reached the top of the stairs when a servant comes rushing up to them.
“Crown Prince, Fourth Prince,” the servant greeted, before turning to Yixing, “Your Highness, your attendant has called for you to meet him in the sick room.” Yixing and Yifan look at each other and a silent understanding passes through them.
“Take me to him,” Yixing said, as Yifan turned to his guards and muttered commands.
Junmyeon is frozen in shock, standing by the entrance of the sick wing. A single bed is occupied at the end of the ward.
“Meimei?” he asked, almost scared for a response.
“Suho?” comes the replying whisper. Meimei looks around frantically for his voice, but her eyes are dark. Too dark. It takes Junmyeon a moment to realize that her pupils are bleeding from the inside.
“Don’t panic, I’m here, I’m here,” Junmyeon said, rushing forward to take one of her hands. Her skin was hot to the touch and covered in sweat.
“I did it,” she whispered, “I killed him.” Junmyeon was frozen in shock.
“I killed Yiheng,” she whispered, “I was sent to carry the coals for the kitchen, the flower from the garden, I—”
“Shh,” Junmyeon said. It was easy to piece together what had happened. Everything matched up, the symptoms, the timing of the season, the bleeding of her irises. The flower had no antidote.
“It hurts,” she whispered, hand clasped feebly in his. Junmyeon felt the tears spring to his eyes.
“I’ll go get Yixing,” Junmyeon promised. He yelled for another servant girl to find Yixing and bring him at once.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it,” Meimei whispered, “it hurts so bad.”
“It will be okay,” Junmyeon said. Empty lies, he knew.
“He didn’t deserve a peaceful death,” Meimei said, gasping for air, “when she was killed so brutally. But I—I had no other way. I watched the other boy shovel the coal into his basket and leave for the prince’s room. When—when the boy came back to the kitchen, he said he felt sick. So I knew. He’s dead.”
“It’s okay, no one will blame you,” Junmyeon said. His eyes welled up with tears, threatening to fall. Yet Meimei, who faced his voice, could not see them.
“I gave it to the Minister of Ceremonies already,” Meimei said, “the sash. Yixing-ge doesn’t d—deserve silver. He deserves gold. Remember.”
“Alright, I got it. Sash of gold,” Junmyeon said.
“Thank you,” Meimei whispered, “thank you and Yixing-ge for being the brothers I never had, f—for being the better family than the one who sold me. I love you both, I’ll forever be your little sister, forever your meimei . I’m sorry, I—I’m sorry.”
“Forever,” Junmyeon promised, holding her hand to his lips. He sat there, his warm hand encased in her bony one. Her skin had stopped burning, instead turning cold and a ghastly white. Her once-bright eyes fluttered once, twice, before shutting them on the world.
Yixing came running in. He froze in the doorway.
“Am I too late?” Yixing asked in a soft voice.
The first tear ran down Junmyeon’s cheek.
Junmyeon couldn’t differentiate the nights from the days. Everything passed by in a haze. No one woke him up at dawn anymore, so he spent most of the days sleeping or just lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t care what happened beyond the doors of the prince’s room. He only cared when Yixing would come back late at night, and Junmyeon would curl into him. Yixing would wrap his arm around Junmyeon. Only then would he be able to fall asleep.
“Junmyeon,” Yixing shook him awake gently. For the first time in weeks, Junmyeon was woken up, instead of sleeping until he couldn’t take the taste in his mouth anymore.
“It’s the first snow,” Yixing whispered. Junmyeon peeked up from the nest of blankets and pillows.
“Snow?” Junmyeon asked. Yixing nodded, getting up from bed and throwing a cloak over his nightshirt.
“Meimei loved snow,” Yixing whispered. Junmyeon bit his lip, but forced himself to sit up anyway.
“She did?” Junmyeon asked.
“She loved to roll the snow into balls and throw them at me,” Yixing said, nodding, “she once nailed me right in the no-no zone.” Junmyeon cracked a smile for the first time in a week.
“Are you going to attend today’s ceremony?” Yixing asked, changing out of the nightshirt.
“What ceremony?” Junmyeon asked. Yixing looked up at him with a small smile.
“My coronation,”
Junmyeon stood, hidden behind the other palace staff, watching Crown-Prince Yixing make his way towards the Shrine of the Ancestors. Yixing looked so regal, every inch the prince he is, dressed in the silks of an emperor. He couldn’t look away from how ethereal Yixing looked, the snow falling lightly onto his robe, leaving small droplets of water that twinkled like diamonds as the prince walked into the brightly lit chamber. Junmyeon tuned out the minister, who kept going on and on about Yixing’s great qualities, choosing to focus on Yixing’s eyes instead. Yixing looked straight ahead. Junmyeon felt his heart flutter again. Once the minister finally stopped rambling, Yixing bowed and accepted the scroll. Junmyeon smiled as Yixing stood up again, letting the minister drape the golden sash over Yixing’s shoulder.
He’s acutely aware that Junmyeon is staring at him, but he forces himself to look straight ahead. When Yixing stands again with the sash over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but glance over. He caught Junmyeon’s eyes, sending the younger boy blushing furiously. Yixing smiled a little. Junmyeon was so cute. Yixing hurriedly fixed his expression, but the minister already sent him a side-eye.
Junmyeon pushed open the door lightly. Yixing sits at his desk, brows furrowed at the sash he wore earlier that day. Junmyeon sets the prince, no, emperor ’s tea on the desk gently.
“What’s the matter?” Junmyeon asked. Yixing glanced up.
“This sash wasn’t supposed to exist,” Yixing muttered. Junmyeon sat down beside him.
“What’s so special?” Junmyeon asked, running a hand over the smooth silk.
“Usually, when a prince becomes an emperor, his wife or husband would sew him a sash, to show their pride and acceptance of the new role. I’m not married, so I don’t know where this came from,” Yixing said. Junmyeon dropped his hand.
“I see,” Junmyeon said. A strange look in Yixing’s eyes flashed for a second, too quick for Junmyeon to decipher the meaning.
“I was not expecting to receive a sash today,” Yixing said, “the minister was the only one not surprised.”
“Maybe he made it,” Junmyeon said, a teasing tilt to his voice. Yixing raised an eyebrow at him.
“You’re so cute,” Yixing said, smiling. He placed the sash gently on the desk and reached for the tea.
“Umm,” Junmyeon said, “so today the servants were talking about how they overheard you declining a councilman’s daughter’s hand in marriage. So they obviously want to know which way you swing,” Yixing choked on his tea.
“You don’t have to tell me!” Junmyeon said, putting his hands up. Yixing coughed again.
“Out of all the topics to gossip about, why my marriage?” Yixing muttered.
“Because you’re the emperor? And emperors need heirs?” Junmyeon shrugged. He didn’t know why it hurt as bad as it did, the idea that Yixing will have to marry someone and that someone won’t be him. Yixing frowned.
“I’m not interested,” Yixing said, “I have to fix this society first.”
“That will take more than just you,” Junmyeon said, “you need someone by your side to help you. Someone you can trust to have your back.” Stupid, Junmyeon chastised himself, you stupid child, why are you suggesting this to him? This will only hurt you more.
“I see your point,” Yixing said, nodding. Junmyeon smiled, despite the storm in his heart.
The next few days passed in a haze. Amidst all the activity and work, Yixing couldn’t stop thinking. Junmyeon’s words echoed endlessly in his head: “ Someone you can trust to have your back”. Who did he trust?
“Junmyeon, will you marry me?” Yixing asked. Junmyeon opened his mouth to say something, but promptly closed it.
“Junmyeon?” Yixing asked, unsure of what to make of Junmyeon’s reaction.
“What?” Junmyeon asked. He surely heard incorrectly.
“You, and me,” Yixing said, “married.”
Junmyeon isn’t quite sure how it all happened. One moment, he’s confused as fuck. The next, he’s bawling his eyes out in Yixing’s chest, ruining his perfectly silken robes.
Yixing knew how to deal with crying women. Seemed like a strange thing to know, but he did. But crying men? A particular crying man that he had a crush on in his lap, tears running down the soft cheeks that shouldn’t be subject to the tortures of salt water? Yixing didn’t know what to do. But Junmyeon hadn’t said the words he needed to hear.
“Junmyeon,” Yixing whispered, wrapping his arms around the smaller body.
“I think I like you,” Junmyeon choked on his sobs.
Yixing froze.
Those weren’t the words I wanted to hear.
These are better, though.
Three months. Everything from calligraphy to dance to horseback riding. And yet, nothing was worse than etiquette classes. If, for the two decades Junmyeon had been on this planet, he thought he knew how to walk, well, he was wrong. At least Sehun was there to laugh at him when he stumbled, not quite used to the weight of wedding robes, but his little brother was there to help him up each time.
But the worst part? As per tradition, Junmyeon found himself moved from Yixing’s room to another room on the other side of the Imperial Palace. Junmyeon blamed the chill on the winter, despite knowing full well what was causing it. Only a little more, he reminded himself.
Red. Everything was red. But it was a joyful red, woven with gold and silver. Junmyeon tried his hardest to peer through the veil over his face, to see the people crowding the streets for a glimpse of their Prince Consort. Junmyeon’s hands were sweaty, but his palms slid right off the red silk of his robes. So Junmyeon wiped them off on the seat in the carriage. He was sure there was a mess of sweat on his back from the multiple layers of robes. Junmyeon sent a silent thank-you to Yixing, who chose the spring equinox for their wedding date. The slight chill in the air certainly helped.
It was a long walk. Junmyeon silently wished the carriage would take him all the way up the palace steps, but it stopped at the gates. With each step, he was supposed to think about his life, the virtues, and contemplate his new role as a Prince Consort, yet all he could think about was Meimei’s voice, telling him to hold your head higher. Walk in a straight line, but don’t be too stiff.
And then came the bowing. Once to the heavens and the earth. Once to the ancestors and family, which made Sehun gleefully happy as Junmyeon bowed before his little brother. And finally, once to each other. When Yixing finished pushing the ceremonial comb into Junmyeon’s “ridiculous hairdo”, as Sehun called it, Yixing took his hands gently.
Junmyeon arrived in the room first. This was Yixing’s room, but it wasn’t where he remembered it. He voiced this to one of the servants, who looked at him with a strange look.
“Why would His Majesty still be in a prince’s room? He is Emperor now.”
Junmyeon’s steps faltered. Of course it had changed. How had he missed that?
He was hungry. Junmyeon hadn’t wanted to ruin his beautiful robes and couldn’t do anything but sip tea with the veil on. He knew it wasn’t proper to ask for food, especially since he technically wasn’t allowed to leave the room until the morning. With all his extra time, he might as well decide what to do. Should he smile prettily and be submissive? No, that simply wasn’t Junmyeon. Should he tease and get a rise out of the emperor? What should he tease him on? He carefully mapped out words and comebacks, planning, scheming.
Junmyeon sighed, adjusting his robes where he was sitting on the bed. At least the bed was nice and soft, Junmyeon thought, his butt wasn’t sore.
But it will be, a traitorous voice in his head said. He felt his cheeks heat up.
Stop it! He chastised himself. So he fidgets, trying to distract himself. He knows that Yixing has duties to fulfill, he has court officials to greet and toasts to make. So Junmyeon sits and waits.
The door opens gently, but it still startles him. Junmyeon must have fallen asleep, his head leaning against the wooden wall. He is glad there is a veil before his face; his cheeks must be as red as his robes.
“Have I kept you waiting, my love?” Yixing’s voice is gentle and warm. Junmyeon wants to whimper.
“I’m fine,” Junmyeon whispered. But his stomach chose that moment to betray him, growling loudly.
“I’ll bring you some food,” Yixing said. The door shuts after him, before Junmyeon could say anything. Junmyeon only sighs and slouches down again. The headdress and veil on his head is heavy, and Junmyeon is sure he will have a neck cramp if he keeps it up for long. Only a few minutes later, the door opened. This time, the smell of lotus root and pork rib soup wafted in. He hears the clunk of the box being dropped on the table. Junmyeon stands up, swaying a little, black spots dancing in his eyes. Within seconds, Yixing has a firm hand on his arm, steadying him.
“Ah, it must be heavy, isn’t it?” Yixing asked, reaching up to unfasten the hairpieces, “I should have taken them off before I left to get you food.”
“It’s fine,” Junmyeon whispered, not trusting his voice.
Yixing’s hands are deft, removing the hairpins and gently setting the headdress aside. He unclips the veil letting it fall to the floor. He stifles a gasp. Junmyeon is so beautiful, his eyes lightly lined with black, his lips accentuated with the red lip paper. His skin glows and, in the three months that Yixing has not seen him, finally put on enough weight so that his cheeks were no longer hollow, but soft and rosy.
“It’s a good thing that tradition dictates a veil,” Yixing said gently, “because anyone who saw you like this would fall in love with you, and then I’d have to behead half my court for doing so.”
Junmyeon can’t help the blush that rises at Yixing’s words and looks away. He had never considered himself beautiful, yet the words Yixing whispered to him were so melodious. A finger under his chin brings him to face the emperor. Junmyeon had never noticed before, but Yixing was a little taller than he was. Junmyeon smiles at the emperor a little, too shy to say anything.
His stomach ruined the moment.
Yixing promptly steps back, leading him to the small table in the middle of the room. Atop it is a wooden box, used for carrying food and keeping it warm.
“Let me serve you,” Yixing whispered. Junmyeon looked at him.
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Junmyeon asked. Yixing smiled.
“Just this once?”
As the bowl of soup goes down, Junmyeon feels his confidence return. There was nothing different about their relationship, the marriage had just made it official. Yixing was still as gentle as ever and Junmyeon loved it. Loved Yixing, too, but he was a little too scared to admit that just yet. When he finished the last bit of lotus root, Junmyeon took a sip of the tea. Drawing his courage, Junmyeon smiled at Yixing.
“I’m curious,” Junmyeon said, putting down his tea. A little part of him asked what the fuck are you doing?
“About?” Yixing asked, sensing that Junmyeon was starting to feel back to his old self.
“How you will perform tonight. I have heard that-- equipment-- fails with age,” Junmyeon said, walking back over to the bed.
“I am not that much older than you,” Yixing pointed out, desperate to keep a straight face, “but I will show you just how efficient my equipment is.”
“Oh?” Junmyeon raised an eyebrow, “please, do demonstrate.”
“For starters,” Yixing said, standing up and walking towards Junmyeon, “I need to unwrap my present.” Junmyeon took steps backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed.
“So this,” Yixing whispered, dangerously close to Junmyeon now, “needs to go.” With a single fluid movement, Yixing untied the sash at Junmyeon’s waist, throwing it carelessly over his shoulder.
“Kiss me,” Junmyeon gasped, aroused with the new side of Yixing he was seeing. The emperor complied, easily slotting his lips against Junmyeon’s, as if he had been dreaming about kissing him. Junmyeon felt a tongue pressing against his lips, asking for permission that Junmyeon didn’t want to give quite yet. He wanted to make him wait, but Yixing had better stamina than he did. Junmyeon drew back a little, gasping for breath. Yixing took advantage of this and pushed Junmyeon onto the bed, his lips once again against his. Junmyeon wasn’t even sure when the multiple layers of cloth started coming off, only that his chest was now bare, his nipples perking slightly in the chillier air of the room.
“Beautiful,” Yixing whispered. Junmyeon maneuvered his hands, trying to untie Yixing’s robes. A firm hand clasped around each of his wrists, pinning them to the bed.
“Be a good boy and let me ravish you.”
Junmyeon whimpered at that.
“This isn’t fair,” Junmyeon gasped, “I’m wearing almost nothing, and you’re fully clothed.”
“Would you like to change that?” Yixing said with a smirk. Junmyeon hastily pulled himself onto the bed, knelt on the mattress, and began to carefully unbutton the outer robe. He purposefully ignored the once-over Yixing gave him.
“You’ve put on weight,” Yixing noticed, “good. You’re no longer skin and bones,”
“Are you calling me fat?” Junmyeon asked, teasing. He huffed at the stubborn knot at Yixing’s waist.
“Of course not,” Yixing said simply, “your cheeks have filled in.” Yixing’s hands went to caress his face.
“Your skin is glowing,” Yixing ran his hand down Junmyeon’s chest, stopping right above his belly button.
“But my favorite?” Yixing asked, mirth in his tone, “is here.”
Junmyeon squeaked in surprise, colliding forward with Yixing’s chest.
Yixing’s hands were on his ass, fingers digging in through the soft silk, into his ass.
Then his hands move to Junmyeon’s waist.
Then he’s flying.
Junmyeon’s back hits the fortress of pillows, smelling sweetly of jasmine. Before he can collect himself and scold Yixing for manhandling him like that, said man is already caging him in, his legs on either side of Junmyeon’s waist, pinning him down. Yixing intertwined his fingers in Junmyeon’s, pressing in close for another chaste kiss. Then he moves lower, sucking softly at Junmyeon’s neck. When he gets to a spot just behind Junmyeon’s ear, Junmyeon shudders and moans. Yixing triumphantly sucks harder, with Junmyeon writhing underneath him.
“Yixing,” Junmyeon pleaded, “touch me,”
“Where?” Yixing asked, his breath brushing the shell of Junmyeon’s ear.
“Anywhere,”
“Alright,” Yixing said. He lets go of Junmyeon’s hand and drags his fingertips down Junmyeon’s chest, lower and lower, past his nipples, past his ribcage, straight into the waistband of the pants. His fingertips brush against Junmyeon’s dick, and Junmyeon screams.
“Too much, my love?” Yixing asked, a grin on his face. Junmyeon stares fixedly at the ceiling.
“It’s just…” Junmyeon knows he failed to hide the blush creeping up his chest and onto his face.
“Blushing like a virgin,” Yixing teased, pressing a kiss against Junmyeon’s neck.
“I am,” Junmyeon whispered. Yixing froze.
“Really?”
Junmyeon didn’t have the strength to reply, so he only nodded.
“I’ll take care of you, I promise,” Yixing whispered against Junmyeon’s skin as he tugs the pants off. Gloriously naked, Yixing sits back and admires the man beneath him. All soft skin and delicate features. Junmyeon squirms under his gaze.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Junmyeon whispered.
“You’re so beautiful,” Yixing said, reaching for the little pot of scented oil. Yixing trails his fingers, his touch exploring the parts of Junmyeon’s no one else has ever touched before. Shivers of pleasure travel up Junmyeon’s spine and he whines, wanting more and more. He gasps when cool fingers slide farther down.
“I need you to relax, my love,” Yixing murmured. Junmyeon closed his eyes, a permanent blush on his cheeks, and nodded.
One finger. Yixing carefully watches Junmyeon’s face for signs of discomfort, but found none.
Two. Junmyeon thought the sensation was a little odd. Not painful or anything. Just strange. Yixing’s fingers seemed to be searching for something.
Junmyeon’s back arched suddenly, a harsh gasp escaping from his mouth.
Yixing smirks. Found it.
Pleasant torture, Junmyeon decides. He’s torn between wanting to escape and fucking himself back down on Yixing’s fingers, pleasure zinging up his spine everytime. Yixing adds another finger, another strange feeling. Junmyeon wiggles a little, feeling the stretch. He feels his legs being shifted, then his lips are being kissed. A hand wraps itself around his cock, stroking it lightly, distracting him from the pain.
Junmyeon is unbelievably sensitive, and Yixing takes note. Whether it was just because it was his first time or not, Yixing has yet to find out, but find out he most definitely will. He adds a fourth finger, taking extra care.
“Hurry up,” Junmyeon whispered. Yixing looked at him questioningly.
“Impatient much?” Yixing teased, as though he didn’t want him just as much. He pulled out his fingers, wiping them carelessly on Junmyeon’s discarded pants, and pulled of his own.
“Why are you so big?” Junmyeon whimpered.
“Am I?” Yixing looked down. He always thought he was perfectly average, but he couldn’t deny the slight glimmer of happiness at Junmyeon’s comment.
“Shit, that thing’s gonna wreck me,” Junmyeon muttered, “gonna scramble my guts. I’m going to feel it in my ass for days. Days, ”
“Good,” Yixing said, slicking himself up, “I want you to remember everything I’m doing tonight. Maybe then, you won’t call my equipment , ah, aging.”
“I regret it!” Junmyeon whimpered desperately, “Your equipment is fine! It’s beautiful! It’s--Hnngghh!” Junmyeon’s words trailed off as he felt Yixing’s cock pressing against his hole, but it stopped, as if it was asking for permission. Junmyeon groaned and rolled his hips down, which Yixing took as a green light.
Yixing could feel Junmyeon slowly relax, his tight heat welcoming. Junmyeon’s lips were parted in a silent scream. When he was fully sheathed, Junmyeon let out a small moan, before slapping his hand on his mouth to muffle it.
“Why, my love?” Yixing asked, gently prying Junmyeon’s fingers away.
“They’re going to hear me,” Junmyeon whispered.
“Good. Let them hear you,” Yixing said, pressing a kiss to Junmyeon’s lips, “I want the whole Palace to hear you. I want the entire empire to know you’re mine, and mine alone.” Junmyeon’s breath stuttered at that.
“Yours,” Junmyeon whispered, “and you are mine.”
Yixing waits for his love to adjust, before thrusting forward experimentally. The scream that rips out of Junmyeon’s throat is so beautiful. His eyes are open, but dazed and unfocused, completely surrendering himself. Yixing leans down, taking a perky nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, bruising it, before moving to the other one. He pulls back a little more, driving in a little deeper, setting a slow rhythm, and Junmyeon moans and whimpers and screams, his fingers digging into the pillow beneath him.
“Faster,” Junmyeon can feel it, a tight coil in his stomach. Yixing complies, going faster and harder, nearly pounding Junmyeon into the mattress. The coil tightens, burns, the pleasure mounting.
Junmyeon sees white when he cums, too much for his body to handle. Yixing groans, feeling Junmyeon tighten on his cock, before he, too, is spilling.
Junmyeon isn’t quite sure what happened after his climax. He’s vaguely aware of Yixing pulling out, his hot seed running down, before being wiped up by a warm towel. Then the bed dips, and Yixing is tucking him under the covers. Junmyeon snuggles into Yixing’s chest, the other’s arm coming around automatically to his waist.
“Thanks,” Junmyeon whispered.
“There is no more thanks between us,” Yixing said into Junmyeon’s dark locks, “we are one now,” At Yixing’s words, Junmyeon flushes, suddenly glad the room is devoid of light.
“I think I love you,” Junmyeon whispered into Yixing’s chest. Yixing pulls his closer.
“I know I love you,” he replies.
“Ok, then,” Junmyeon said, not one to be outdone, “I love you more.” Yixing’s chest rises when he laughs.
“Impossible.”