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Yeonjun carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Okay, maybe not the weight of the world per say — exaggerations have always been a thing in the court — but he does carry a lot of responsibilities. Which feel like the world when you've got a deadline on wars and treaties.
And see, the thing is, Yeonjun isn't fit for this power. He's not a leader. He's brash and he's loud and he doesn't abide by the rules of the wolves inhabiting his high circles under pretense of dainty maidens and silver tongued young men.
He goes against everything he should be. That, in and of itself, gains him a reputation.
Esteemed lady, the letters always start, degrading and burning ugly in Yeonjun's stomach. Because Yeonjun couldn't possibly love dresses and skirts and men and still be a man himself. Because the very idea of Yeonjun in heels, shooting an arrow through a Seo descendant's heart defied the principles upon which his ancestors built from.
Cunning. (Yeonjun loves trickstery, he won't deny.) Cruel. (Which leader isn't? They've got to enforce the law somehow. Yeonjun isn't unfair to those who are innocent.) Deceiving. (Lies are a part of any kingdom. Yeonjun's learned to wave the rumors away.)
What he cannot stand, however, is the badmouthing of his guards. His friends. Those who would give up their lives for him in an instant. Who would take a dagger to the gut and a spade to the heart.
Those who've worked their way up from mud and dirt deserve respect. Yeonjun gives it to them. He expects everyone to do the same.
And when he hears the words, his heart just about hardens to a rock. He feels faint. Anger surges, hot and racing like a wave, tightening into little balls of fire in his gut that threaten to burst from his hands. He feels it — pressure building behind his eyelids as he shuts them tight and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard.
Control control control. You're stronger than this. Don't smite her.
Because the sharp murmur of a, "You're a damned servant, guard Choi. Learn your place like all his other bitches." makes him want to find a knife and drive it deep into the middle of the woman's torso.
Find the heart and puncture it. Dig into a lung and pull. Kill a man, no regrets. All these people are the same.
"With all due respect Lady Kim, I am not your servant and therefore am not required to be of service to you."
Yeonjun breathes a little easier.
Soobin isn't a fool. He won't let himself be intimidated by blood red lips and a puffy top. Won't let a too tight corset take his dignity just because it's expected of him. Their kingdom is all about breaking rules and expectations, anyways.
"Lady Kim," Yeonjun says in a drawl when he glides into the corridor, cool façade back on like always. He hopes the anger isn't obvious in his gaze, but the wretched witch doesn't seem to notice anyways.
Her eyes linger on the gorgeous black heels he wears. Yeonjun smiles cooly.
"Your highness," she chokes out, dropping into a curtsy that Yeonjun lets linger for a few tense moments. Tilting his head and pursing his lips, tutting and making a show of scanning her outfit.
She preens, like she's pleased that he noticed her. Yeonjun lets the disdain bubble in his veins.
"White was not the theme today, Sunhee." Yeonjun says at last, scrunching up his nose in distaste. "You know I despise having my theme disrupted."
Yeonjun tries to keep his disgust under wraps when Sunhee's face falls. He hopes she doesn't cry. Yeonjun doesn't like it when they cry.
(He's sharp, but so what? The snakes in his court are no better. Every action of theirs is for show. Every tear and pout. It's all an illusion. Yeonjun's just learned to live with it, to deal with it the way a royal should.)
"Sorry, m'lord."
Yeonjun watches as she straightens up, eyes dropped to the floor in shame. Meek and weak and shallow, just like the rest when they're stripped to their bare core. Yeonjun feels ice spreading in his heart, putting out the fire.
"Don't ever speak to my men that way, ever again." Yeonjun says lowly, words clipped and freezing cold. Yeonjun knows they sting.
The warning makes Sunhee turn pale. Yeonjun watches her go with a sudden thought. A thought that fills every crevice of his mind and takes root and feeds feeds feeds—
"Hey," Soobin says softly as he taps Yeonjun's shoulder. "You okay, hyung?"
Yeonjun breathes in. Endless possibilities. All ending in death.
Everything feels heavy, imminent.
And yet—
"Yes," Yeonjun says faintly. "Thank you Soobin."
Anything for you, goes unsaid.
"You're hot when you're angry," Soobin comments as Yeonjun pulls him into a kiss.
The first kiss is soft, tentative. Nothing more than a brush of air that makes Yeonjun want to close his eyes and purr like a cat. It’s light pressure, experimental, and Yeonjun just wants more. Wants everything and nothing and wants Soobin to hold him down and turn him into a mess.
Soobin's own eyes bore into Yeonjun's, heavy and full of meaning. A silence so packed it feels like the sky itself falling on Yeonjun's shoulders. He looks like he wants to turn Yeonjun into a mess.
"Do it," Yeonjun whispers, voice breathy and wanton. His eyelashes flutter, a pretty flush on his cheeks as he presses closer. "You won't."
Soobin does.
Slowly, like Yeonjun might run away if he gets too rough too quickly, Soobin winds a finger around a strand of his hair, running it down the back of his neck until Yeonjun melts against him like ice in the sun.
And just as quickly, Soobin is biting down, hard enough to hurt, lenient enough to not bleed anything. His mouth feels like heaven on Yeonjun's, all things right and just. His whole body is flush against Yeonjun's, and they fall into the bed in a tangle of limbs.
"It's all for you," Yeonjun mumbles when Soobin's lips drop to the hollow of his neck, moving naturally as he starts sucking and biting, marking up something he shouldn't even be touching. "Everything's for you."
Soobin raises a brow, cocky, and Yeonjun lets out a low moan when his pretty little skirt lifts up and Soobin's palm presses against the very obvious hard on he's sporting. Daring; gloating.
"Nobody else sees you like this," Soobin murmurs roughly, almost in awe. He gives a small squeeze, soft and wonderful, watching as Yeonjun flushes and sighs a melted ah.
"Only I do." A possessive kiss. "Only for me."
Yeonjun gives a dreamy little whine. "Only for you."
"Only I get to watch you fall apart," Soobin coos. "Only I get to fuck you so hard your legs shake for days after, only I get to watch you cry for cock, of all things."
Yeonjun whimpers, grinding against Soobin in what he hopes is an indicator of what he really wants. Of what he wants to beg for despite his pride being huge and his ego even bigger.
Little grinds, humping like a bitch in heat.
"Impatient," Soobin remarks, unaffected as always. "Good boys don't get impatient."
I'm a good boy, I am.
Yeonjun nearly sobs in relief when Soobin's smile returns full force, and his head dips in acknowledgement. "C'mere you needy princess, I'll fuck you just how you like it."
His skirt falls to the floor along with everything else, and Yeonjun mourns for its loss for a second before Soobin's fat cock is calling for his attention once again and everything else is forgotten.
(He hopes he isn't drooling, but one never knows.)
"Do you wanna suck me off before or ...?"
Yeonjun ponders it for a second, before shaking his head no and looking up at Soobin with the widest eyes he can muster, knowing that the tears are just on the edge of falling, knowing that it's Soobin's only weakness.
"Please," he whispers brokenly. "Please just use me." He blinks away more tears. "Wan' you inside of me."
"Okay," Soobin soothes. "I'll make you feel good princess. You just lay there and take it, mkay?"
Yeonjun nods, albeit a bit desperately, and Soobin guides him gently to lay down with his back against the sheets. Silky softness like heaven against his skin, vulnerability soiling his mind as he fights against the blush staining his cheeks.
"Just let me do all the work."
Yeonjun melts into the bed, spreading his legs and letting Soobin see every bare inch of him. It's a bit weird — but he trusts Soobin. Enough to let him see everything, and let him know everything.
"You'll tell me if it's too much right?"
Yeonjun nods, already drifting away.
"Good."
He startles at the feeling of Soobin's fingers against his skin, creeping up towards the inside of his thighs, ghosting along his skin softly like water trickling in a stream. It makes Yeonjun want to giggle.
Just when Yeonjun is on the verge of telling Soobin to hurry up, Soobin presses a finger against his rim, cold and slow. Only pushing in when Yeonjun squirms and tries to move his lower half.
"I said let me do all the work," Soobin reminds him, and Yeonjun feels the flush spreading to his chest, ears burning.
It starts out slowly, like it always does when Soobin is in a romantic mood, but he fucks a single finger into Yeonjun like he wants to take his time breaking down Yeonjun.
Yeonjun relaxes with every movement, feeling the way Soobin's touch makes him twitch and shift, the way he wants to take him on his own and ride Soobin until Soobin's the one crying.
(But for now— for now he will take this and be happy.)
The drag is slow, and time ticks by in a daze, Yeonjun's body getting used to the stretch and slipping loose over two fingers when Soobin decides it's time to add another digit.
Soft breaths. Yeonjun feels like he's flying. A soft, floaty feeling in his head as he lets his thighs splay open some more. Pretty little whimpers leaving his lips once Soobin's knuckles brush his rim.
"You're doing so well," Soobin encourages, crooking his fingers and dragging them down Yeonjun's sensitive walls. "Taking my fingers so well. You're so used to it aren't you?"
Yeonjun whines, high and reedy. The sound feels like sin in the royal chambers.
Soobin scissors his fingers into Yeonjun, holding him down by grabbing Yeonjun's thigh with his free hand. Grip tightening into something vice like when Yeonjun so much as twitches.
"Don't you want more?" Soobin asks, teasing.
"Please," he whispers, eyes prickling. "Please Soobin."
Adding another finger, Soobin's eyes sparkle with mischief and endearment, a combination not rare when it comes to Yeonjun. His lips purse as he fucks those three fingers into Yeonjun, nothing less than gentle and soft.
Yeonjun likes gentle and soft. But gentle and soft is torture after a long day. It feels like a drag of smoke against cool shoulders, rolling ever so slightly, impatient and chilled.
Hands clutching at the sheets, pooling them into handfuls, Yeonjun bites down on his lower lip to stop himself from asking for more — from begging for Soobin's cock like a common whore.
But Soobin knows. He always does. Years and years by Yeonjun's side have taught him to know Yeonjun like the back of his hand.
A small twist of Soobin's fingers inside him have Yeonjun arching his back, mewling and trying hard to fuck himself back on them. He feels full and yet still so ready for more, missing something only Soobin can give him.
"A-ah!"
Soobin laughs, quiet and menacing. "That feel good princess?" Eyes dark, something predatory in the way he looks at Yeonjun.
"So good," Yeonjun whines out, little oh's and fuck's being punched out of him in tight gasps. "Feels so good."
Soobin adds a fourth, and Yeonjun swears he sees stars. "Told hyung I could make him feel good," Soobin says under his breath.
The push of an almost fist feels like too much, but Yeonjun takes it like he knows he can. Going through the haze because fuck if he doesn't think of getting thrown down against the sheets and ravaged like a treasure.
"Do you want my cock?" Soobin asks, still teasing. "Want me to fuck you with something other than my fingers?"
Yeonjun nods, desperate and feverish. "Please," he pleads, eyes wide, far too gone to care about his dignity.
Soobin smiles, all soft edges again, and Yeonjun melts against the bed in relief. Ready to claim the prize he's been hinting at sice the beginning. (Needy, Beomgyu would have called him.)
Without anything stretching him open, Yeonjun feels empty. He wants Soobin, just Soobin.
When Soobin finally presses the head of his cock against Yeonjun's hole, slipping in inch by inch, Yeonjun lets out a muffled cry. Biting down on his own palm and hoping nobody hears him.
He feels vulnerable, and it's so utterly stupid to him. Because it's Soobin panting soft behind him, Soobin who pulses hotly inside him and Soobin whose fingertips dig marks onto Yeonjun's waist.
"You're so fucking– tight." Soobin mutters, teeth gritted, neck bared from what Yeonjun can see with his arm thrown over his eyes. "So fucking good."
Yeonjun preens, a whine being broken off when Soobin gives a sharp thrust. It feels better than anything Yeonjun's ever felt. The hand that's been splayed on the sheet grips a random pillow, pulling it closer towards his body.
He's sensitive, but it only serves to edge Soobin on. Makes his eyes turn even darker, liquid black, an inky color. Yeonjun finds himself shivering, body opening like a flower blooming in Soobin's palms.
"So pretty," Soobin whispers in between small ripples of his hips, moving faster when Yeonjun groans and tries to push back against the soft movements.
Yeonjun's body aches for more. For harder and faster and make me forget.
Soobin though, he likes to break Yeonjun into the smallest of shards. Get him desperate and whiny and tease him until Yeonjun cries at the merest mention of his name. He likes to be good, and Soobin takes advantage of that.
"Be good," Soobin says as he pushes Yeonjun's hips down and starts pounding into him like Yeonjun's been wordlessly begging for. His cock brushes Yeonjun's sweet spot repeatedly, pure heaven expressed in the way Yeonjun's back bows off the bed.
Eyes half lidded, Soobin watches him with rapt interest as Yeonjun gasps in pleasure, mouth slack as sounds pour out of him like a broken faucet.
"More," Yeonjun pants, entitled. His hand tightens around the pillow, his other arm dropping from his eyes to rest on Soobin's shoulder. "More please."
(Demanding, commanding.)
Soobin's head drops, features hidden from Yeonjun's glazed eyes as he mutters a curse underneath his breath and speeds up, hips thrusting into Yeonjun in a violent way. Almost hateful — like he wishes to break Yeonjun.
His whole body feels like it's on fire. Yeonjun craves and desires so badly it feels something akin to addiction. Mouth dry and throat parched as wordless cries slip past his lips, adding to the heavy atmosphere.
Yeonjun clenches around Soobin's cock after a particularly harsh thrust, feeling the blinding pleasure dig into his veins like a drug. It feels so good and Yeonjun wants more and he wants Soobin. He wants it like he knows Soobin can give it.
After a few seconds of looking at Yeonjun, Soobin gets rough. His hips feels like they'll make Yeonjun bruise with how hard he's fucking him. Yeonjun knows he'll be sore for days. He likes knowing that.
"I'm doing it just like you wanted princess," Soobin tells him, low and strangled. He sounds just as gone as Yeonjun, struggling to form coherent thoughts as he fucks Yeonjun into oblivion. "This is all for you, too."
Yeonjun's eyelashes flutter, face flushed a shade of red that matches his discarded skirt. His voice trails off weakly when Soobin wraps a hand around his leaking cock, jerking him off in quick strokes that make it harder for Yeonjun to hold back the loudest noises lingering in his throat.
"You're so desperate," Soobin says slowly, words fond and yet so cruel. "Pretty baby all dumb for me, good and attentive yes?"
Yeonjun swallows down more moans, both arms looping around Soobin's neck as he pulls him into a final kiss. It's something short of restrictive, sounds being muffled before they even have a chance to leave his lips.
He fucks him like that. Soobin drills into him like he's got nothing to lose. His cock dragging along Yeonjun's walls in a constant friction, slamming into that bundle of nerves that gets Yeonjun in tears.
"I'm almost," Soobin falters, biting down on his bottom lip as he pushes his cock deep in Yeonjun's ass, the pure sounds of skin against skin seemingly making him lose his mind. "I'm almost there, fuck."
Yeonjun whimpers, trying hard to fuck himself back on Soobin's moving hips. He wants and he wishes and he longs for something.
Soobin buries himself to the hilt, giving a few final thrusts before cumming with a shudder and a resounding moan against Yeonjun's slick lips. His hand tightening around Yeonjun's cock ever so slightly before Yeonjun whines high and reedy.
He's almost crying, vision blurry, body aching with the need for release. He feels far too gone, but with something missing. He wants to come. He needs to come.
"Can I–"
"Go ahead princess."
Yeonjun lets out a thankful sob, head resting against the pillows as he rides through his high with Soobin, staff and parties completely forgotten.
Almost blacking out, he feels like he's in a dream when Soobin leans over him, smile soft and steady.
"You did so well," Soobin tells him, wiping some stray tears from Yeonjun's cheeks. "You can rest now. You've been so good."
All Yeonjun needs is comfort sometimes.
So thank god he's got Soobin.