Chapter Text
1
During the third year of Queen Minyoung’s reign, some few hundred years after the inception of the Murim dynasty, a war erupted between the three realms.
The Century of Spirits.
Since the turn of the century, spirits became an increasingly common sight in the kingdom. Harmless by nature, they lived among humans in relative peace. A nuisance at best; though a cause for mortality at worst.
After the barrier between the spirit realm and the surface world inexplicably thinned, the first death from a spirit attack was reported. A poor girl left orphaned and unable to speak. Now, the order was clear:
Destroy on sight.
In response to growing safety concerns, spirit hunters arose. They answered the call from daybreak to nightfall, purging the streets of humans possessed by demons, spirits wearing familiar skin, and fiends raging rampant. Of the most elite of these hunters were the Queensguard. So-called cream of the crop, high-ranking members of society, and whose blood ran royal blue.
Chief among them was Yoo Joonghyuk. Expert swordsman, renowned scholar, and noble prince. The queen’s beloved heir — and subsequently, the commoners’ object of admiration.
“Obsession,” Han Sooyoung, his second-in-command, rectified. “Can’t go a day without a prayer for the crown prince, or another bride delivered directly to His Highness’ quarters.”
“Who was it the last time?” asked Lee Jihye, the bright-eyed junior hunter. “Came crying for a proper dowry, and all.”
“Heard it was the eldest of the Shins,” answered Kim Namwoon, her partner-in-crime. “A real catch, if I’ve ever seen one.”
“A master of the four classical arts.” Sooyoung stretched her fingers, one-by-one. “Painting, music, calligraphy, and pottery. Your Highness, I’m afraid your future residence won’t suffer from a lack of prestige.”
Namwoon snorted. “Rather, Your Highness’ vast inferiority in the face of the wife.”
“Long-suffering, might I add,” chimed Jihye, for good measure.
Wiping the blade clean, Joonghyuk sheathed his sword with an audible schwing! “Have you had enough chattering?”
“Would you rather we do it behind your back?”
“I would rather you keep your mouth shut,” he grumbled. “Lest I’ll have your tongues.”
“Oooh.” Sooyoung pretended to shiver. “How frightening.”
The four of them stopped before the tavern. There was, sadly, only one of its kind in this ramshackle town. Up above, smoke billowed out the chimney in curdling grey plumes. If one were to strain their hearing, one could discern the raucous commotion coming from within.
Riverside was a village on the outskirts of the capital. Farmsteads dotted the horizon, having just recovered from a dastardly drought. To make matters worse, there were reports of a large horde encroaching from the south. Some fiends larger than a house, or so the farmers claimed.
Ergo, the prince and his entourage were deployed — first on horseback, and then on foot.
Joonghyuk chanced one last look at the darkening sky. “It’s a full eclipse. The spirits will grow stronger.”
“No stronger than us, I wager,” answered Jihye as she skipped ahead. “Right, Your Highness?”
Joonghyuk gave no answer. On the count of three, they ducked beneath the eaves.
In a small town like Riverside, such distinguished features were hard to come by. Queen’s Keep fell into an abrupt hush, no longer singing the arrival of a dime-a-dozen hunter. Instead, what welcomed them was a low string of murmurs.
Dime-a-dozen they were not.
All eyes fell on Joonghyuk. Garbed in all black, shoulders upright, and donning what was doubtlessly the dragon insignia, Joonghyuk stood out even amongst immortals. With his height, he easily towered over the other patrons, showing neither distaste nor displeasure. Infallible even in places like these.
Then came the scrutiny. Joonghyuk’s sword was a fine steel, the scabbard chipped with overuse. On his waist were the spoils of war: nine skulls for each of the nine spirit gods. Perhaps, such a gruesome sight served to bolster the women in incomprehensible ways. They swarmed on either side, cooing and coddling like moths to a flame.
Or perhaps, they were too ignorant. The silence was instantly dispelled.
“Come, Your Highness,” they purred in one ear. “Let us serve you.”
A high-pitched whistle spliced the air. “Judging by the screaming ladies, I half expected you lot to drag in a wild beast. Not a man!”
“We’ve got you something better — something no mere beast could contend with!” Sooyoung flung a satchel of coins, gesturing at her handsome catch with a proud grin. “His Highness, the crown prince.”
“Prince Joonghyuk.” Jung Heewon offered a firm hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Their informant was the proprietress of Queen’s Keep. She sat at the round table, accosted by drunkards, several jugs of liquor in, and having clearly defeated them all in a game of chance. Peering into the satchel, Heewon weighed the price with her eyes alone. Once she deemed it sufficient, she flipped the cards away.
“We predict the number of spirits to be in the hundreds, if not thousands,” she began. “A horde of them’s sweeping from the southern bank, and our walls could no longer hold. We appreciate your help, Your Highness.”
It turned out the women had a particular grip. Almost pincer-like in its strength. Joonghyuk gave a shaky nod, gat tipping over, as he wriggled himself free. Attempted to.
“You think that’s where the gate is?” asked Sooyoung, in spite of his struggles.
“I’ve no doubt about it.”
“I can assure you, miss.” Namwoon tugged on his bow, already teeming with excitement. “It’ll take us no longer than a night to purge those hellspawns.”
“Give us till sunset,” added Jihye. “We’ll seal the gate in no time.”
“How promising. Given that you have half a day’s worth of daylight left, might I ask you to stay for a drink?” Heewon tipped her cup in Joonghyuk’s direction. “His Highness, at least, seems to be enjoying himself, no?”
He was not. There was a persistent ringing in his ears, both sight and smell invaded by perfumed oils, and hems trimmed inappropriately short. Joonghyuk searched his companions’ faces, finding little help their way. His gaze flitted away to no avail.
Until it landed on a certain table. In the back of the tavern sat the fairest skin, tinged with a peachy rouge. On the outer corners of those upturned eyes were faint, red circles, curved into perfect crescents. A fox-like smile worn beneath a fox-like glint.
Treacherous hands slipped underneath. The beauty wore bright robes, artfully loosened to expose the sharp jut of his collarbones. Flushed faces nosed up his neck, along the thrumming vein, to deposit in the long column of his nape. It would seem that the men were intoxicated — either by the liquor, or his looks, Joonghyuk could not say.
It was then when their gazes collided. The stranger lifted the corner of his lips, dimpling a cheek. Joonghyuk’s throat went unspeakably dry.
The creak of a stool. “Besides the horde, have there been any strange sightings?”
“Not anything unusual,” answered Heewon, tipping the bottle over an empty cup. “Though the gate has reportedly ruined the nearby crops. Had Her Majesty not answered our call, this humble village would have long become spirit fodder.”
Jihye gave a low hum. “If that’s the case, then what we’re facing is likely a powerful fiend.”
“To be so powerful as to affect the earth, it should at least be a second-class spirit,” supplied Namwoon.
Someone turned to him. “What say you, Your Highness?”
Frankly, Joonghyuk was barely listening. “…Say that again?”
Then came a round of sighs. Sooyoung snapped her fingers, and said, “Has the conversation become too dreadful, or is His Highness already raring to go?”
“A pity.” Heewon snorted. “I’ve already poured His Highness the finest.”
Joonghyuk quickly averted his eyes, and admonished Sooyoung with a glare. Curiously, Jihye followed his line of sight.
“Neither,” she spoke with clarity. “It seems His Highness is distracted.”
At that very moment, the beauty rose from his seat, pulling on the hem of his steadily-drooping robes. Bells chimed lightly as he walked, the golden glint clinking from the waist, wrists, ankles. His movements were languid, hips swinging from side-to-side.
Joonghyuk had no time to react. The man had reached, long lashes fluttering as though pushing through time. “Careful, Your Highness.”
His voice was molten gold. Sticky as honey, dripping down to the bones.
Slender fingers plucked a stray feather off Joonghyuk’s collar, likely a gift from the flock of women from earlier. “Lest you be marked by a temptress.”
And with that, he flitted away. Stayed no longer than the fleetest of phantoms as he vanished out the door. Joonghyuk almost hurt his neck, craned over the shoulder.
A low tsk greeted him by the time he returned to reality. “I suppose even the crown prince is not immune to the dancer’s charms.”
“Dancer?” Joonghyuk heard himself ask.
“Since Your Highness has given such a generous donation, I’ll do you a favour.” Heewon winked. “His name’s Kim Dokja, a favourite of my patrons. Hails from up north, where beauties like him lay boundless.”
“Who would’ve thought?” Sooyoung snickered. “It’s not noble ladies His Highness is interested in. It’s a male courtesan!”
“Not just any courtesan,” Jihye supplied. “A dancer of the North Court.”
The North Court, a vassal state of the Murim Kingdom. On his 20th birthday, the queen gifted Joonghyuk with a performance to celebrate his coming of age. Back then, he’d simply walked out halfway, disgusted by the ostentatious show of promiscuity.
Though now, had those dancers been replaced by Kim Dokja, would he have stayed?
The answer was not his to learn. In retaliation, Joonghyuk swept out his sword, blade aimed at Sooyoung’s neck. Gasps spanned the tavern, all noises falling to disquiet.
Chin lifted in challenge, Sooyoung continued to poke and prod: “What, you’re finally cutting off our tongues, Your Highness?”
“Another word, and yours will be first,” he grumbled.
Before the moment lapsed, Joonghyuk had already swivelled around. With a practised swing, he stormed out, prompting Namwoon to follow on his heels in a frenzy.
“Forgive us.” Jihye bowed. “It’s best that we leave now.”
The prince’s lively entourage retreated, one after the other. Slowly, the commotion returned, fret with a mix of fear and awe. Left without a chance of protest, Heewon merely arched a brow.
There was a distinct line carved into the wooden floor.
2
“Watch out!”
The land reeked of smoke, sweat, grime. Scorched earth marred the cuff of their vambraces, crowning the forged steel. A powerful shockwave rumbled across, and in its wake, blue flames erupted. Beneath their feet, the ground split into two.
There was no time to spare. Joonghyuk pressed on, catching the dokkaebi off-guard. Jihye wordlessly leaped to its right flank, closing in. Trapped in a pincer move, it had nowhere else to run.
“Now, Lee Jihye!”
Kicking off their heels, the duo charged forth with a forceful swing. The resounding hit set the dried grass ablaze, cobalt blue meeting pitch black sky.
“No! All my souls!” the dokkaebi screeched. “If Master finds out, I’ll be done for…!”
The fire claimed the dokkaebi before it could utter its last words. From dust to dust, its wretched form scattered into the river. Along with it, its minions collapsed, dissipating into thin air in one fell swoop.
By now, the last sliver of sunlight had been obscured by the moon. The sky dimmed in an instant, plunging the southern bank in a certain stillness. It was in this darkness when the gate split open, nearly as wide as a chasm.
The eclipse had reached its totality.
“Han Sooyoung!”
Nodding in acquiescence, Sooyoung brought the rice paper to her lips. She muttered the incantation, dousing the parchment in a faint, golden glow.
“Kim Namwoon, seal!”
Namwoon aimed at the core. Just as Sooyoung inked the last of the enchantment, he drew the bowstring taut. A surge of spiritual energy seeped into the arrowtip, coating it with a sealing spell. Within the next moment, Namwoon loosened the arrow.
Off it flew, a straight line across. The gate crackled and roared, feeding silver sparks into the air. Harsh winds lashed against their arms, and a fine cut lanced across Joonghyuk’s temple. He stood before the others, a one-man shield.
“Hold steady!” he screamed against the wind.
At long last, the gate began to shrink. And then, it folded into itself, disappearing in the blink of an eye. All of a sudden, the earth stilled.
“Is it over?” someone asked from behind.
Joonghyuk lowered his arms, pupils burning from the dust. The blue flames had been extinguished, leaving only a trail of destruction. In its path lay the fiends’ remains, ashes collected on the edge of the riverbank.
Sunlight peeked through the overhead clouds. Its rays stretched outwards in a mesmerising corona. It appeared they had cleansed the area before the eclipse was even over.
“It’s done.”
They returned to Riverside just as the sun set. The junior hunters raced ahead for the first cup of warm wine; blissfully unaware, as they tended to be. Sooyoung, however, stayed behind. Though not for small talk.
“The gate was sealed, but I could still sense the lingering energy. That dokkaebi wasn’t the chieftain,” she surmised. “However, with no way of returning back to the spirit realm, I’m afraid we let the real one escape.”
Her company was often steady, though no less stifling. Joonghyuk tugged on the rim of his gat, concealing the furrow of his brows. “It was a distraction. That gate harvested over 800 souls. Wherever its Master is…”
“…It’s now grown into a first-class spirit. Able to mingle seamlessly with humankind.”
“Perfect.” Joonghyuk scoffed. “Just a cut below a spirit god.”
“We’ll find it, I’m sure of it.” Sooyoung stared straight ahead, unwilling to reveal even a glimmer of doubt. “Namwoon found some traces. It appeared it left the area in a hurry.”
The pair turned down the alley, and rounded the corner. Up ahead, a large figure could be seen leaning against the wall.
“Huh.” Joonghyuk stopped in his tracks. “‘Least we got a scent.”
“Not a very strong one, in any case.”
It turned out the large figure was, in fact, two men — one standing, and the other pushed by the shoulders to kneel on the dirt road. The latter’s chin was tipped upwards, jaw visibly trembling. No matter which way they looked at it, this was clearly an unsavoury scene.
The chiming of bells. Joonghyuk could recognise that sound anywhere.
“Stay here,” he instructed.
Joonghyuk’s body moved of its own accord. In a single stride, he’d closed in the distance, grabbing the burly man by the collar whilst stepping in between.
“Y—Your Highness?” Dokja yelped raspily.
“Get off him,” Joonghyuk spat, full of ire.
“What the—?!” The man choked, wriggling fruitlessly in Joonghyuk’s grip.
“What were you doing?”
“Settling my dues, of course!” he spat, pointing an accusatory finger at Dokja’s hunched figure. “This good-for-nothing whore stole from me, so I had to teach him a lesson!”
Through grit teeth, Joonghyuk managed, “Stole?”
“Didn’t you know, Your Highness? That’s all they’re good for, these sons of bitches! If they’re not pilfering from learned men like you and I, then they’re better off spreading their—”
Crack!
The sight of a bent neck was truly too gruesome. Though there was no blood, the sickly pallour that quickly overtook his skin was enough to frighten the faintest of hearts. Body falling limply to the ground, it was twisted in ways near-humanly impossible.
From the back, came an audible gasp. Reeling on instinct, Dokja suppressed a gag. The sound of it was enough to ground Joonghyuk, the weight of his actions come crashing in.
“Are you alright?” He knelt down, eyes roving.
Dokja appeared at a loss for words. Hand clamped over the mouth, pupils trembling imperceptibly. “That was my meal…” was all he could muster.
Rooting through his pockets, Joonghyuk produced his coinpurse. “Here. Let me buy you another.”
“You’ll…you'll have to pay for this, Your Highness.”
Joonghyuk shook the coinpurse. “Isn’t that what I’m offering?”
This had Dokja raising his brows. “Truly?”
“Yes, truly.”
Patience running thin, Joonghyuk grasped Dokja’s wrist. The pouch was dropped onto his open palm, heavy with silvers. And then, he made to stand.
“You seem to have lost your spine. What happened to the brazen beauty I met earlier?”
A hand, outstretched, appeared before Dokja. He took it with gratitude, callousless fingers slipping onto rough-hewn skin. “When the crown prince comes running and twists the neck of your assaulter, who could maintain their zeal?”
“Nonsense.” Shamelessly, Joonghyuk pressed Dokja’s knuckles to his nose. “I didn’t run.”
The embroidered pouch slipped into Dokja’s bosom, never to be seen again. There went half of Joonghyuk’s allowance; but no matter, he could confidently say it was for a good cause. After the rudimentary beating, of course.
“Not even for a beauty like me?” Those sinful lips curled. Brazen beauty. “I’d say it’s high praise, coming from His Highness.”
You are much too beautiful, and much too dangerous for your own good. But Joonghyuk neither spoke nor was willing to admit, so he gripped the hilt of his sword and swivelled around.
“Wait.” The bells clanged, that same hand wrapping around his vambrace. Under long nails, the soot gathered. “What’s this?”
Fingertips ghosted over the cut along his temple, crusted with blood. Without another word, the skin was wiped clean. Cool silk softened the blow, hours after the laceration.
As wantonly as before, Dokja reached towards Joonghyuk’s collar, slipping the scented handkerchief underneath. Cloves and nut grass and camellias. “Here, in exchange for the coinpurse.”
If Dokja could trace his heartbeat, he pretended not to notice. It skipped traitorously under his ministrations, as if touch alone could send his body into madness.
“A gift, or a claim?” Joonghyuk asked, breathlessly.
Lest you be marked by a temptress.
There was no greater vision than the wicked wiles before him.
“How could a lowly courtesan hope to claim His Royal Highness?” From wide sleeves, a fan unfurled. It rested just beneath half-moon eyes, blinking with mischief. “It’s a most precious heirloom of mine. So please, keep it safe.”
Sunsets on the frontier were often dazzling. Back in the palace, long scrolls depicting such mystifying sights were not uncommon. The painters tended to dress their words in thespian and theatrics — a fallacy in any other word.
However, the sight before him went beyond dramatics. As Dokja stepped away, he melted into the pool of purple-gold. Like spun wool, the seam of spider-silk. Now, out of all times, he resembled the fae the most.
Footsteps approached. “I was gravely mistaken,” Sooyoung’s voice floated into his ear.
Joonghyuk could pay her no mind. He trailed after Dokja’s retreating figure, chasing the tail-end of his rapturous scent. By his side, his fingers twitched.
“You are not merely intrigued by the dancer.” She paused. “You are bewitched.”
3
It was wishful thinking to believe that his minor lapse in judgement would go unpunished.
The moment their entourage landed on palace grounds, they were accosted by a captain of the Queensguard. Off to the side, the maidservants hunched low, pretending not to hear. Alas, it was a midsummer day, and the blooms needed tending.
“Your Highness.” Lee Hyunsung gave a deep bow. “An audience with Her Majesty.”
“The Queen Mother has eyes and ears across the land.” Sooyoung nudged at his elbow. “The kids and I will wait outside.”
“Good luck, Your Highness,” they wished in unison.
In the throne room, Queen Minyoung sat splayed over the Phoenix Throne — teacup in one hand, and a tobacco pipe in the other. Today, the hall was thick with the stench of incense, likely to conceal the tang of blood still drying on her hem.
Queen Minyoung had just returned from a prolonged campaign, securing the lands beyond the North Court. Whilst the royal army dealt with the foreign invasion, Joonghyuk led the Queensguard to quell the domestic unrest. It was said that the north employed vengeful spirits within their ranks — and soon, such gruesome sights would reach their walls.
“My son,” her voice bellowed, shaking from foundation to firmament. “It is good to see you back in one piece.”
Joonghyuk pressed his forehead to the floor. “You as well, mother.”
There could be said to be a resemblance between mother and son — not in form and stature, but in fortitude and will.
“The conflict has stayed for overlong. Spirits run unchecked, multiplying by the day,” said Queen Minyoung. “Had I not led the men north, they would have long grown into a fearsome army.”
“The spirits are growing restless,” supplied Joonghyuk.
“Indeed. In my absence, I should give you thanks for upholding order in the south.” The cup clinked against ceramic. “I heard your entourage sealed a most foul gate in Riverside. A dokkaebi, was it?”
“I’m afraid not, mother.” Joonghyuk cast his gaze aside. “Its Master escaped. I’ve sent Kim Namwoon on its tail, but he has yet to return with good news.”
“Fifteen years I’ve trained you, and yet you still commit such a grave mistake.” Queen Minyoung’s voice dipped an octave — a portend of doom. “Have my lessons escaped you, Yoo Joonghyuk?”
There was no hiding the flinch. “No, mother. I was just distracted.”
By what, exactly?
“I did not teach you to make excuses. I taught you to stay vigilant.”
The wood creaked, heavy footsteps rattling the stone floor. Within seconds, a shadow loomed over Joonghyuk’s kneeling figure. Now, the woodsy accords of smoke and ash had come near, enveloping him whole.
“My poor boy. What could have occupied your mind such that even your coinpurse was stolen?”
“How did you—?!”
A futile argument, nonetheless. The smoking pipe was raised overhead, and Queen Minyoung sported a cheeky grin. “At last, my boy has finally grown into a man!”
Whack!
The copper bowl struck home. Joonghyuk swallowed a pained grunt, already feeling the burn.
“Welcome to the world of the living, my good son!”
In a sallow corner of the infirmary, Joonghyuk cut a sorry figure.
The herbal salve did very little to ease the ghastly scratches across his bottom, and he could no longer hide behind the shame. Though the room had been cleared, some insisted on staying. This resulted in a collective act of feigned ignorance.
Hyunsung pretended his face wasn’t a bright crimson, whilst Sooyoung pretended she wasn’t cackling behind a fan. The physician kept her eyes anywhere but on Joonghyuk’s blighted skin, despite being the one to administer the medicine. It was only fortuitous that neither kids were around, lest they would not let Joonghyuk rest easy.
“All done, Your Highness,” announced Lee Seolhwa as she wiped her hands clean. “Do stay off your back for one day and one night to allow the skin to heal.”
“That includes keeping your hind dry, Your Highness,” added Sooyoung, to no one’s assistance.
Seolhwa nodded solemnly. “And no strenuous activities.”
“Good, then.” Hyunsung coughed, stiffly. “His Highness has just returned from an expedition down south. All the more reason for him to stay and rest, isn’t it?”
“His Highness, staying locked up in the palace?” Sooyoung scoffed. “I highly doubt it.”
In the end, Joonghyuk could not bear the humiliation. “All of you…” he began, “…leave. Now.”
The Queensguard swiftly retreated before Joonghyuk’s temper could reach a fever pitch. As Seolhwa dressed the last of his wounds — including the damnable cut along his temple — Joonghyuk’s foot tapped an impatient rhythm.
Burning against his chest was that silk cloth, scent sickeningly sweet. His nose itched for a whiff, hands curling into a tight fist. So saccharine. It should have disgusted him — It should — but he was anything but.
Oftentimes, his distress did not go unnoticed. At least, in Seolhwa’s eyes.
“I’ve noticed a trace of camellias on your person,” she said, just as Joonghyuk ducked under the eaves. “Have you met with a northern dancer recently, Your Highness?”
In much the same way, he could not lie. Joonghyuk dropped his gaze, and simply said, “I have.”
Later, Joonghyuk was dismissed with a reminder to Watch your back; though from what, Seolhwa did not clarify. So with a hasty farewell, he swept out the door, that flowery scent left to thicken in his absence.
“Your Highness.”
Long fingernails scraped down his Adam’s apple, scratching into the notch of his collar. Faint breath ghosted over his nose, the line of his jaw, over the plush bottom lip. There was an indescribable weight on his lap, shifting and writhing like a thief in the night.
Butterfly kisses left in his wake.
Joonghyuk’s eyes drew open, half-lidded. A figure sat astride his waist, both palms scorching a hole through his open front. Down along the abdomen, plinking towards the navel. Those loosened robes, once bright in the daylight, had been dipped in midnight ink.
And those eyes, fox-like, curving enticingly. All attention was brought to the pinkened corners, the dark frame of lashes. In the dimness, they grew thickened with moisture, casting tall shadows upon high-flushed cheeks.
Once more, the chiming of bells. Cloves and nut grass and camellias.
“Shhh.”
Something pressed against Joonghyuk’s lips. He could only gasp and sputter, though no words came tumbling from his clogged throat. An invisible force kept his hands and feet bound. Held at bay. Pinned at the stake.
Kim Dokja?
If it was not him, then it was a deceitful incubus taking the form of his heart’s desire. The hem slipped off a shoulder, revealing pale lines inked by a painter’s brush. Pink dusted his chest, nipples glistening under the lowlight. Down, down, down Joonghyuk’s eyes roved, till they were caught onto the scandalous dip of his waist, before flaring out to plush thighs, hips, ass.
The very picture of sin. Heat stirred in Joonghyuk’s gut, only to coil in his loins.
“Finally awake?” the vision purred, hips grinding.
When they separated, a certain stickiness had gathered on his clothed thigh. Almost belatedly, Joonghyuk realised that Dokja was completely bare underneath.
“Stay still. Let me repay you.”
Distantly, Joonghyuk’s thoughts echoed a fading For what? before being swallowed, whole, by a cavernous heat. Dokja took him down to the root, cockhead hitting the back of his throat. The ring of his palate constricted as he gulped, bitter tears running all the way down.
Joonghyuk choked on a moan, nearly spilling right then and there. Yet, Dokja was ruthless, head bobbing up and down at an unforgiving pace. Collected the spit on his tongue, swirling around the tip, before slurping along the full length till he recognised every curve, every vein, and every drop of that salty-sweet taste.
“Fffuck,” Joonghyuk managed between static breaths, head whipping back. “Feels g—good.”
There was no stopping him. He thrust clumsily into that sweltering heat, catching against the walls each time Dokja caved in.
“Mmmph!”
It was hot. It was heavy. It was wet with slick and tears and spit.
Those bottomless irises had never once left his face. Traced the contours of his pleasure, to be etched in sand and stone. Carved the shape of his length in the hollow of his throat, just so he could remember it for days. His, all his to take, take, take.
“Close, I’m close…!”
From root to tip, a depraved moan rumbled up his shaft. It was enough to push Joonghyuk over the edge, spurting down Dokja’s throat in wild doses.
“Fuck, Dokja!”
“Haaa.” Dokja stuck out his tongue, milky white pooling down the middle. Some of it had streaked against the corner of his mouth, to run along his chin.
And then, he swallowed that too.
“So good,” came the voice in his ear, buttery smooth. “Came so much for me.”
Head wiped, and body singing in the afterglow, Joonghyuk could no longer speak. The words had left his mind, all caution thrown to the wind. The only thing he could parse, suddenly, were the dissipating touches along his arms, where they warmed into his blood.
Simmering, surging, curdling.
By the time Joonghyuk opened his eyes, Dokja was already halfway gone. His skin glowed translucent in the moonlight, as though slipping between realities. Only his eyes remained, glittering like the spread of constellations Joonghyuk already had memorised.
Which was real, and which was the aftereffect of his wildest dreams?
“Kim Dokja?” he croaked. “What are you…?”
Another faithless smile, etching twin dimples. Even now, Dokja looked unreal.
“See you next time, Your Highness.”
For the first time in his life, Joonghyuk awoke with a soiled robe, and a stickiness on his palm. Somehow, he’d tossed and turned onto his back, causing the ache on his arse to triple overnight.
Fingers spreading, Joonghyuk could not tell whether it was his, or—
No.
There was no time to dally. Before the sun could even rise, Joonghyuk was already out the gates, trudging on foot to the forest down south.