Chapter Text
The whip bit painfully as it sliced through the skin. Thirty lashes. It had not sounded too bad earlier, but this was only the fifth one and Yoongi found himself seriously wondering how long would it take for him to pass out. Or how long could he keep silent. He did not want to give those bastards a joy to make him scream, but the task proved to be more difficult with each next stroke.
The last two days had been both the best and the worst in his life. Yesterday had started out splendidly – Jungkook had invited him over and, quite predictably, their friendly chatter had soon turned indecent, followed with even less innocent touches and kisses. Looking back at it, they really should have been more careful. Yoongi had been laying on Jungkook’s bed, on his back, his hands fisting bedsheets as Jungkook had been thrusting into him with reckless abandon and murmuring how he’s sorry, but he just can’t slow down, because “you feel too good, wanna fuck you forever, love you, so good”. It had been a lot, but Yoongi would not have had it any other way.
The whip came down again and this time Yoongi let out a quiet sound, tugging at his restraints and scraping his wrists at the process.
In the middle of their frantic coupling Jungkook’s father had barged in, through the door they had forgotten to lock in their haste. Yoongi vividly remembered how Jungkook had tensed up with shock and abruptly released himself inside the elder, his face an odd mixture of bliss and utter panic. The feeling of his younger friend’s – and lover’s – seed inside him had been nice, but overall it had not made the situation any better.
Another lash. Yoongi hissed and bit down on the gag in his mouth. The post where his hands were tied to was made of rough wood, but about an eye level it was shiny and polished. Yoongi thought briefly how many people it had taken, yanking his restraints like him, to make the wood this smooth.
Jungkook was a son of earl and his father ruled over three towns and a couple of villages, Yoongi’s home village being one of them. It was not a lot of land – the earldom was among the smallest ones in the country, located on the eastern coast, far from the capital –, but as a common villager, Yoongi’s status was still much lower than lord Jeon’s or Jungkook’s. And lord Jeon had not hesitated to use his rank to claim that it was Yoongi who had corrupted his innocent son and forced him into sodomy.
The whip bit the skin on his back once more, the stroke more painful than all the previous ones. The noise Yoongi let out was louder, though still subdued.
Jungkook had tried to protect him, going as far as claiming that everything had been his idea and Yoongi had let him have his way only because he did not dare to oppose the son of the earl. But Yoongi had intervened and called his words bullshit in front of the city court. If he was going down, then so be it, but he was not going to take Jungkook with him.
After that his punishment had been decided quickly. Whipping, twenty lashes for the act itself and ten for swearing at court. And then he was going to be hanged.
Well, at least he did not have to die as a virgin. Yoongi smiled grimly, until the whip hit his back again.
This time Yoongi did scream. His back felt like on fire and red dots were dancing in front of his eyes. The following lashes bled into one another, until the whole world was only a blinding, searing pain. Distantly, Yoongi heard the chatter of the spectators and the clear voice of a young soldier counting the strokes. And the tortured moans, he realised, had to be his, though he was not fully aware of making any sound.
As suddenly as the whipping had started, it came to an end. The ropes around Yoongi’s hands were unfastened and he fell into a graceless heap at the foot of the post. He was only half-conscious now, the blackness in the corners of his vision threatening to take over at any given moment. He realised, dazedly, that he was lifted up and half-dragged to a small podium next to the whipping-post, where gallows were standing, but he was too out of it to even fear anything.
The executioner was a middle-aged woman with long black robe and blank face. Her fair eyes looked right through Yoongi as she put the noose around his neck and tightened it so that it would not slip over his head. Two soldiers who were holding Yoongi up from both sides inched a little farther away from the trapdoor, in order to not fall down with him.
With an effort, Yoongi raised his head and looked over the people gathered to watch the execution. He hoped Jungkook was safely in his father’s castle. The boy would surely be miserable for a while, because he really cared about Yoongi, but he would live on and maybe one day find someone whose fate was not as cruel as Yoongi’s.
The crowd was bustling and swarming. The noise went louder, more eager, expectant. Yoongi searched for his mother and father, but in vain. Maybe they were forbidden to leave the village. Only Jimin, his cousin from his mother’s side, was standing almost next to the gallows, his little brother Jihyun at his side and their friend Taehyung in tow. Jimin was crying, but Yoongi had no strength in him to try and console the younger. And even if his mouth had co-operated, Jimin would not have heard him anyway.
The executioner moved to the side and suddenly Yoongi was aware of the abrupt silence that had fell over the crowd.
Someone was making his way through the people who parted almost immediately to let them pass. Yoongi blinked his eyes. It was a man clad in green robes, riding a pearl grey horse. He stopped in front of the gallows and looked up at Yoongi. From this close, Yoongi saw that the stranger’s long cloak had an intricate embroidery and he was wearing a hood, despite of the warm weather. A lock of ruby red hair fell on his high brow and his dark eyes were strangely intense.
“What has he done?”
The man’s voice was bright and boyish, a strong husky undertone balancing the innocent sweetness. But despite the youthful timbre he spoke with confidence, as someone who was used to giving orders. His elaborate clothes, but even more his bearing and expression, spoke of a noble status.
The court official standing next to the executioner gave a small bow.
“He has broken the law, my lord,” she explained. “He has seduced the son of the earl and defiled him.”
The man raised one eyebrow and tilted his head, giving Yoongi a proper once-over. Yoongi had stopped caring about his half-nakedness since yesterday evening – why stress about clothes when he was going to die –, but now he became keenly aware that he was wearing only a pair of flimsy cotton trousers, his torso bare for everyone to see.
“Give him to me,” the man said. “I have a better use for him.”
“Excuse me, my lord,” the court official replied, “but this is the final decision of the city court. It can not be changed, nor appealed.”
The man raised his gloved hand and removed the black silken glove. His skin was shockingly pale, even whiter than Yoongi’s who always used to grumble how he was burning up in the sun. There was an emerald ring in his pinky finger, the jewel glinting enticingly.
“My name is Junsu,” the man told the official and Yoongi’s stomach dropped, his whole body turning cold. “I am the Second Prince. Give me the prisoner.”
Yoongi had not thought it was possible to feel worse than he already was, but now he felt downright sick. His ears were ringing, his vision swam and he was only distantly aware of choking up and vomiting all over the podium. Then he was quite carelessly lifted on the horseback and the movement made the pain increase tenfold, until the merciful blackness finally took over.
The first thing Yoongi felt after waking up was pain. He was aching all over, his back feeling like one big open wound. Maybe it was.
Scrunching his face, Yoongi opened his eyes. He saw nothing but a white cloth in front of his face and was too sore and exhausted to even think about moving his neck.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
Yoongi hummed non-committally and then the events of the day came crushing back. Waking up in a cold cell after the declaration of his death sentence, the shameful walk through the city, the whipping, the gallows, the noose around his neck… and the unexpected arrival of the Second Prince.
Yoongi gasped sharply, his lungs burning. The House of the King was not exactly loved among the people, but the country of Rhaygor was surrounded by quite a few powerful neighbours and the strict hand of the ruling dynasty had proven to be rather effective. The people of Rhaygor feared the royal family, but their enemies feared them more and that was what counted. For the last hundred and sixty-two years the ruler of the country had been Queen Miyoung – ethereal beauty, as the songs and stories told, clever in politics, fierce in battle and ruthless towards her enemies.
Oh, and she was a vampire.
She had taken a human husband, much to the chagrin of her parents, but the only other option would have been to marry her brother and incest among vampires could have led to dangerous consequences. Sometimes children born from this kind of union were unnaturally beautiful and strong – even for a vampire – and had a lifespan twice of their parents, but other times they were twisted monsters without any feelings save hunger, who lurked around at night, killing everyone on their way.
Luckily both of the twin sons of the Queen had born as vampires. Junho, the Crown Prince, was already married and had sired the future Crown Princess and a Prince to spare. Yoongi had never seen him or any other member of the royal family, but he had heard that the Crown Prince had taken a lot after his mother – strict, harsh and serious, but fair and honourable. Junsu, the Second Prince, was much more elusive. He was still single and there were occasional rumours about the mysterious parties he liked to throw in the palace. No-one actually knew what was happening at those parties, but people talked about gruesome orgies and humans eaten alive. Yoongi had never paid much attention to it, because the earldom of lord Jeon was so far from the capital that the affairs of the royal court were not much more than a fairytale. Besides, everyone knew that vampires needed human blood to stay alive. And if the Queen or his sons killed some humans while feasting, it was a small price for the protection of the country.
But now the Second Prince was here, in the same room with Yoongi, very much real and un-fairytale-like. And, if Yoongi was being honest, he preferred hanging to being eaten alive.
Something cold touched his shoulder and Yoongi winced, before he realised that it was Junsu’s finger.
“When was the last time you ate?”
Yoongi blinked blearily and tried to move his lips, but half of his face was pressed into the white thing under him. It took a moment for him to process that he was lying on bed, on his front, and the white thing was pillow.
Cool fingers gripped his face and turned his head to the side, slowly and carefully. Yoongi yelped as the raw skin on his neck stretched and sharp pain burst through his body.
“Shh,” the Prince said and straightened the pillow to make Yoongi’s position more comfortable. “You have to get up eventually and it’s going to hurt anyway, no matter how careful you or I are trying to be.” He knelt at the side of the bed and now Yoongi saw his face up close – smooth porcelain skin, delicate features, round cheeks, soft lips and sharp eyes. He had taken off his cloak and his red hair seemed to glow in the dimness of the room, some unruly strands falling on his face.
“Can you hear me?” the Prince asked.
With some effort, Yoongi opened his mouth and croaked out a somewhat slurred “yes, your Highness”. His throat was raw and his voice rough. From screaming earlier, probably.
“Good,” the vampire said. “And can you tell me when was the last time you ate?”
Yoongi had to think a little. “Yesterday… yesterday morning? Your Highness,” he added quickly.
The Prince nodded. “I ordered some soup. It’s probably lukewarm by now – I thought you would wake sooner –, but maybe it’s better for your throat this way.”
Soup? Food? Yoongi’s eyes went big. He was not going to be eaten alive? Or, at least, not right now?
“I need to move you a little.” The Prince looked at Yoongi and frowned. “I guess you can’t sit up, can you?”
Yoongi tried, but the exhaustion and his hurting back made it impossible for his body to obey. “I’m sorry, your Highness, I can’t.”
The vampire nodded again. “Can you hold up your head?”
Yoongi could, but not without a great effort.
“Well…” The Prince thought for a moment. “Better than nothing. I could move you so that your head is over the edge of the bed. This way your face is free and I can support your head if you can’t hold it up any more.”
Yoongi was too tired to argue. He ground his teeth together, in order to not scream when Junsu moved him closer to the edge of the bed. His head was now hanging over the edge and it took all his strength to keep it up. The floor was swirling before his eyes, wide oak boards seeming to wave and twist.
The Prince took a bowl of soup from the nearby table and held a spoonful at Yoongi’s lips. Yoongi opened his mouth and tried to properly chew, lest he choked on the food. The soup was probably good, but he was feeling too shitty to appreciate the taste.
The next spoonful was even harder work as the muscles of his neck began to protest.
Junsu noticed and sat back on his heels. Putting the bowl on his knees, he held Yoongi’s head up with one hand and continued feeding him with another. His palm felt soft and cool on Yoongi’s brow and his fingers were lightly scratching the younger’s scalp, the sensation both calming and comforting. A few drops of the soup fell on his pants, but he did not seem to notice and fed Yoongi another spoonful before the latter could apologise.
Finally the bowl was empty. Yoongi felt even sleepier than before, but at the same time not as weak and dizzy as he had been.
“I know it’s not a lot,” the Prince said, “but I figured that a proper meal would only make you throw up again. You’ll get more later.”
Yoongi nodded and snuggled his face into the pillow, too exhausted to be truly afraid. “Thank you, your Highness.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” The voice was now laced with soft laughter. “We need to get you clean and then take care of your back.”
Yoongi felt cool hands on his shoulders and then his upper body was slowly lifted up. He squeaked and then hissed sharply as the ache in his back increased again.
“Sorry,” the Prince murmured. “Put your arms around my neck. It’s easier like this.”
Pressing his teeth together, Yoongi did as told. He was lifted up and carried across the room. Then he felt himself being seated and it took a few seconds to grasp that he was sitting on the edge of a small portable bathtub, his trousers now wet.
“Don’t sit in the water,” Junsu told him and, Yoongi’s left arm still around his neck, crouched down to divest the human from his trousers. “It won’t feel good for your back.”
Yoongi had only a moment to be self-conscious about his nakedness, before the vampire took a soft cloth and began washing him. He started from Yoongi’s face, gently wiping off sweat and dirt, then continued down his neck and torso. Yoongi hoped that the Prince would leave his private parts to him, but Junsu was as thorough there as he had been elsewhere, paying no heed to Yoongi’s uncomfortable wriggling or fierce blush. Finally he made the younger kneel in the tub, his back still out of water, and washed his ass and the back of his thighs.
“Okay,” Junsu said at last, “now comes the hardest part. I know it hurts but I try to be quick.”
With this he took a new clean cloth and a small bucket of cooler water and started washing Yoongi’s back. Despite his efforts to hurry up, it took quite a long time, and for most of it he could use only one hand, because he had to support Yoongi’s upper body with another. Yoongi was clutching the edge of the tub for dear life, trying not to cry out, but failing miserably. The water was not as bad as the whipping itself had been, but it was a close thing.
Finally Junsu deemed his back good enough and quickly doused his hair with the leftover water, until it was relatively clean. Then he helped Yoongi up and dried him with a towel more luxurious than Yoongi had ever used. He had only seen these kind of towels at Jungkook’s place, but he had never owned one himself.
“Only one more thing left.” Junsu carried Yoongi back to the bed and made him lie on his stomach again. “I ordered some salve for your back while you were unconscious. It should be arrived by now. Wait here.”
As if he could go anywhere, Yoongi thought when Junsu left the room. They were staying at some inn, it seemed to him. The room was small but cosy, and the bed soft and comfortable. Now, when he was not being moved around any more, the pain in his back had subdued a little, so that he was able to appreciate the feeling of smooth cool sheets against his skin. It was probably late afternoon, but Yoongi was not entirely sure of the time, because all the curtains were drawn and the muted sunlight left the room in soft shadows. One of the windows was open, the curtains before it swaying slowly in a lazy breeze. Now Yoongi also noticed the bustle of the streets – people shouting, carts squeaking and rolling, and horses trotting past the window, their hooves loud on the cobblestones.
The door creaked and then Junsu was by his side again.
“The salve will hurt a bit,” the vampire warned, “but it also has some numbing effect. And it helps the wounds heal quicker and prevents you from getting an infection.”
“Thank you, your Highness,” Yoongi mumbled. He had started falling asleep, despite the hot throbbing of his back, but Junsu’s voice demanded his attention and made him more alert again.
The Prince sat next to him and opened a small jar Yoongi saw from the corner of his eye. Sharp grassy scent invaded his nostrils and then Junsu was drawing a gentle finger over his back.
Yoongi moaned helplessly. It hurt – for a moment it almost burned – and then a soothing coolness spread through his body. The end of the moan sounded more relieved than pained.
Junsu chuckled quietly. “Better?”
“Yes, your Highness,” Yoongi whispered, his face flushed with embarrassment. Junsu smeared some more salve on his back and Yoongi had to bit the pillowcase in order to not make a sound. It hurt, but the following relief was more than worth it. The salve had to cost quite a fortune for being so effective.
The vampire had started at the nape of his neck and was gradually moving lower. Yoongi tried to be quiet, but Junsu’s hands were so gentle and the cool numbness on his back so wonderful that he could not keep a few louder sounds from escaping. The Prince did not comment on that, only continued his both torturous and soothing journey. For his utter mortification, Yoongi felt his cock stirring to life and by the time Junsu had reached his lower back, he was fully hard. At least he had enough self-control to not rut against the bed like a horny teenager. And it was unlikely Junsu would have made him turn over, so there was a small hope that his current situation might go unnoticed by the Prince.
Junsu’s fingers brushed over his ass and then the cool palms pulled the cheeks apart. Yoongi shuddered and burrowed his face further into the pillow.
“What did they exactly do to you?” Junsu asked, his hands still on Yoongi’s ass. “Save the whipping of course. Was there any additional…” his voice sounded bitter as he spat out the last word, “… ‘punishment’?”
Yoongi furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, your Highness?”
The Prince now moved his hands up on Yoongi’s back again. “They did not force themselves on you?”
“What… no, no your Highness, nothing like that.”
Junsu hummed and casually slid a finger over Yoongi’s hole, making him gasp and buck up. “Your skin is a bit irritated here, that’s why I asked.”
Yoongi took a deep breath. “I slept with the earl’s son,” he said, trying to make his voice steady. “Your Highness,” he added, just in case. “His father caught us and took me to the city court. And the rest of it you already know. Your Highness.”
“Ah, I see.” Junsu’s hands were still lingering on the small of Yoongi’s back. “Well, he certainly wasn’t too careful.”
“I didn’t ask him to, your Highness.”
Yoongi pressed a smile into the pillow. It had been Jungkook’s first time as well. He had tried to be careful, he really did, and together they had stretched Yoongi out pretty well. But once inside the elder, Jungkook had been like a man possessed, thrusting with wild abandon and at the same time desperately trying to slow down, but failing. The juxtaposition was oddly arousing. And Yoongi had not minded, really. It had felt good, even if it had definitely been on the edge of too intense.
Fuck, no. He had to stop thinking of Jungkook like this, otherwise his boner would never go down.
“What happened to him?” Junsu asked, his fingertips now moving upwards along Yoongi’s spine. “The earl’s son?”
“He…” Yoongi took a moment to collect himself. “He tried to defend me, your Highness. He said that all of this was his fault. But… well, I knew anyway that the earl was going to blame me, so I said at the court that he was talking bullshit… I mean, that he was lying and everything was my idea. I… I hope he’s all right. Your Highness.”
“You two really like each other?”
Yoongi nodded into the pillow, his throat suddenly tight.
The Prince was silent for a while.
“Very well,” he finally said, “I’ll leave you to rest. Are you able to fall asleep in your current – ahem – predicament or do you want me to do something about it?”
Yoongi almost choked on air. “What do you mean, your Highness?”
“You’re hard,” the vampire stated, a hint of laughter in his voice again. “Would you like to deal with it yourself or do you want me to do something about it?”
“You…” Yoongi gasped and coughed, “you don’t have to, your Highness.”
“I will decide for myself what I have to do and what not,” the Prince said rather haughtily. “I asked you if you want it or not. I’d prefer an honest answer.”
Yoongi gulped. Sooner or later he was going to die anyway. Eaten alive, probably. By the same person who was right now offering to get him off. So the more pleasure he could get along the way, the better… right?
And Junsu’s offer did sound really tempting. Yoongi shivered at the thought of those cool hands on him, that soft mouth talking to him, the vampire’s dark eyes boring into him…
“Yes, your Highness,” he whispered. “Please. I want to.”
Junsu did not waste any time. His fingers brushed over Yoongi’s sides, until they wedged between the bed and Yoongi’s hips to get a hold of his cock. Yoongi let out an abrupt whine and bucked into Junsu’s loose fist. The vampire’s touch was both arousing and calming, like a gust of fresh spring wind.
“Did you get aroused by the pain itself or by the relief from it?” Junsu asked curiously and it took Yoongi a few moments to understand that the question was directed at him.
“Ah…” He was feeling too tired – and horny – to even think properly, but Junsu had not moved his hand further, as if waiting for Yoongi’s reply, and the younger whined pitifully. Apparently Junsu was not planning to continue until he had gotten his answer.
“Both,” Yoongi mumbled. “Both, your Highness… ah!”
Junsu rewarded him with long and tight downward stroke, from the tip of his cock to the base. Yoongi moaned and gripped the bedsheets, trying to thrust into the vampire’s fist.
“Carefully,” Junsu said, a teasing lilt in his voice now. “Don’t hurt your back again.”
“Please,” Yoongi mewled, his eyelids drooping – from exhaustion or arousal, he did not know. “More.”
“You sound lovely,” Junsu commented, his tone light and conversational. “I wonder how you will react if I do this.”
With that he slipped his right hand under Yoongi’s stomach and lifted the younger’s hips up. His left hand curled around Yoongi’s cock once more, but now he concentrated on the tip, collecting the precome and smearing it around the head with his thumb. Then he moved lower, his fingers brushing over Yoongi’s balls, and back up again, thumb digging into the slit.
“Hnngh.” Yoongi chewed on the pillowcase, distantly aware that he was drooling. He tried to move his hips, but Junsu held him tightly, rendering his attempts futile. “Please, your High- ah! -ness...”
Fortunately Junsu decided to have mercy on him. He stroked Yoongi off with a firm hand, thumb slipping over the slit every time he reached the sensitive head. The younger’s words died into nonsensical babbling, the heavy feeling in his stomach mounting gradually.
Yoongi screwed his eyes shut, quaking from pleasure and choking on every other breath. Junsu was relentless, his hand steadily sliding over Yoongi’s erection and turning the human into a shuddering mess. He was saying something, but Yoongi did not process the words. The warmth in his core coiled tighter and tighter until the dam burst and he came with a hoarse cry. He was not sure of it, but he probably blacked out for a few seconds, because when he finally opened his eyes, his head felt light and the room seemed weirdly bright, like after recovering from fainting.
Junsu carefully lowered him in the bed and looked at the hand with which he had gotten Yoongi off. Turning his head, Yoongi saw that the vampire had caught his come into a fist – that explained why he was not feeling uncomfortably sticky – and was now seemingly contemplating what to do with it.
Yoongi opened his mouth – to say “thank you, your Highness“, probably –, but the words failed him when Junsu raised the fist to his lips, opened it and licked a broad stripe across his palm.
Eyes wide as saucers, Yoongi watched the Second Prince lick his hand clean of Yoongi’s come. Junsu slurped some of it from his palm, then devoured the rest with meticulous swipes and, after deeming his palm clean enough, turned his hand and caught the few drops that had escaped through his fingers. Lastly he sucked each of his fingers clean, pink tongue swirling around digits and his dark gaze heavy on Yoongi.
“You taste sweet.” Junsu sent him a mischievous grin and for the first time Yoongi noticed that the vampire’s canines were a bit longer and sharper than the humans had. “And now we don’t have to worry about changing the sheets.”
Yoongi shivered from head to toe. If he had not just come, the spectacle would have definitely made him. He had to swallow for a few times before he found his voice again.
“Thank you, your Highness,” he whispered, his face flushed crimson.
Junsu smiled at him with sudden kindness. “You’re welcome. Sleep now. You must be really tired.”
“I am,” Yoongi mumbled and pressed his face into the pillow to hide his flaming cheeks. “Your Highness.”
The last thing he felt was Junsu covering his lower half with a soft sheet. Then light steps were heard, the door creaked and Yoongi was alone in the quiet twilight.