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“My liege, the boy has arrived.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Bring him to me.”
The Head Servant bowed gracefully before his King, low enough to where he could see the slight accumulation of dirt in between the grooves of the stone floor.
He’d have to get the new boy to take care of that as soon as possible.
He then righted his posture, nodding his head once at the irritated man sitting atop an intricate throne of melded iron. Swiftly, he made his way out of the throne room to fetch his new ward and bring him to be inspected by the King.
What the King of Miroh saw, however, did not quite seem to fit the mould of his staff. There was a boy, yes, but he was a far cry from the type of person that usually found themself under his employ.
His skin was neither pale nor sullen, but sunkissed and radiant with a golden hue that complimented his long, honeyed locks. Upon the high cheekbones of his face, a splattering of what appeared from afar to be flecks of mud, only to then be recognised as sun-spots common to those hailing from the southern clans.
His lips, bowed perfectly into the shape of a heart, pink and plush and drawn into a frown. The nose situated above them was small and button-like, dusted in the same sun-spots that covered his cheeks.
But most striking of all were the crystalline blue eyes that seemed to almost shake in their sockets.
He was afraid .
The King smirked.
The Head Servant, Seungmin, bowed once more, though slightly, gesturing to the boy who had enraptured the King.
“High King Christopher, may I present Lee Yongbok, your new attendant.”
Christopher sat up on his throne, straightening his spine, observing the boy with keen eyes.
“Lee Yongbok? ” questioned the King.
Seungmin nodded, ushering the frightened boy forward with a harsh shove against the middle of his back.
He fell to his knees before the dark-haired man, his lithe form trembling in fear as he was met with the sight of the King’s boot-clad feet. His eyes widened, and he quickly forced himself back onto his feet, blushing profusely.
“Bow before your King , Yongbok,” seethed Seungmin.
Yongbok blushed again, cheeks tinting a charming shade of pink as he bent forward in a perfect ninety-degree angle. His hair fell from the loose braid it had been fastened into, forming a curtain of gold around his thin shoulders.
“Alright, that is enough. Look at me.”
The King’s voice was not kind, and neither was it cruel. But it was stern. Yongbok knew immediately that the man embodied every bit of the reputation that preceded him. He’d heard stories of the King of the North, of course. Of his ruthless reign and bloodstained hands. Of his relentless strength and unshakable determination to ensure the prosperity and stability of his kingdom and her people.
In every way possible, the man before him struck a tremendous amount of fear within Yongbok’s frail heart, and so he couldn’t even meet his eyes as he stood once more to his full height.
“How old are you, Yongbok ?”
The blush on the boy's cheeks became impossibly deeper, flushing the entirety of his face from a pretty pink to a furious red, his iridescent eyes bouncing to and fro as he remained steadfast in avoiding the King’s gaze.
“Tw-twenty t-two, y-your Grace.”
Christopher was amused by the stutter in the boy’s response, revelling in the effect his mere presence had on him. But more than that, he was intrigued by the deep timbre the voice possessed, for it certainly could not belong to someone so small, so petite, with an underlying effeminacy that only made him all the more alluring. “And where are you from?” Christopher continued to ask.
“L-Levant-Levanter, m-my Lord.”
“Twenty-two years of age, born and raised in Levanter. How did you find yourself here, leagues away from your homeland?”
“I-” began Yongbok, inhaling a shuddering breath. He still couldn’t bring himself to meet the young King’s eyes, having caught a glimpse of the man before he was brought into the throne room. Indeed, the King was a handsome man, all brawn and corded muscle. Faint scars littering the bare of his pale arms, a deep scar running from the middle of his right brow down to the top of his cheek. He had full, pillowy lips, and dark brown eyes that burned with an intensity that could level an entire army.
He made Yongbok’s poor heart beat erratically within his chest, like a bird desperate to be uncaged. A fatal dance of attraction and fear swirling in his gut.
“I-I was in n-need of-”
“ Look at me when I address you. ”
Yongbok swallowed thickly, his long, ebony lashes fluttering at the rapid blinking of his eyes. Hesitantly, and with great willpower, he met the eyes of the King, and it was devastating and invigorating all at once. His breath caught in his throat, his pretty hair blowing cinematically in a breeze that somehow found its way through the large windows on the far side of the room. It almost felt as if the world had stopped revolving, as if the oxygen had abandoned his lungs with haste.
The King was inherently intimidating; if it weren’t for the tales and stories that regaled him as the fierce, unforgiving warrior he was, it would be his aura that made it so. Yongbok struggled to maintain eye contact out of the sheer amount of nerves he was riddled with, but he knew he’d face far worse consequences if he didn’t.
“Such beautiful eyes…” whispered the King, enamoured.
Yongbok pushed his long, shiny hair behind his dainty, freckled ears, the blush now travelling to the tips of them. He was unsure as to whether or not he’d heard correctly, as faint as the King’s remark was, Yet the expression on his face was telling, an unfamiliar glint in his eyes that bordered ravenous .
He knew that he had been blessed by the gods in terms of his appearance. And he knew that he’d been the object of desire for men and women both , captivating them with his ethereal beauty.
But the way the King looked at him sparked a heat in his belly that he’d never experienced before.
Shaking himself from his reverie, the King’s eyes unclouded from the haze they’d fallen under, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “Now, what is it you were saying?”
Yongbok blanched. “O-oh. I-I uh, I was in n-need of work, my Lord.”
Christopher cocked his head to the side, intrigued. “Work?”
The boy nodded briskly.
“And why is that?”
Licking his lips with the tip of a pink tongue, Yongbok sighed. “I am but a p-poor wayfarer, your Highness, the only son of parents wh-who have long since p-passed. I-I was in desperate need of a job and…and a home.”
The King regarded him with an expression that seemed almost sympathetic, if it weren’t for the obvious judgement dripping from his tone.
“How can one with such exquisite beauty have suffered so much at his young age?” mused the King.
Yongbok’s mouth snapped shut in astonishment, eyes practically bulging from his head at the unexpected comment. “I- what?”
The King grinned lecherously at him, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. He stood from his throne, walking down the few steps that separated him and the golden-haired angel. He could just about taste the fear radiating off of the younger boy, though he was certain he wouldn’t exactly mind the flavour considering everything about him was steeped in honey.
He circled him, examining his every inch. From the top of his perfect head to the bottom of his small feet, which he noted were encased in shoes that were falling apart at the seams.
How peculiar, indeed .
He stopped somewhere behind him, tilting his head back and forth to analyse the slope of his elegant neck, the line of his shoulders, the posture of his spine and the litheness of his body. Though the clothing he was adorned in was far from spectacular (and distinctly Levanteran, annoyingly enough), Christopher could tell that he had tried his best to be presentable.
“You say that you’ve come to my castle for work…in want of a job . Do you realise what that entails?” he questioned, a whisper against the back of the freckled one’s neck. He felt the boy tremble, heard a sharp intake of breath. He pressed himself against the sun-kissed being, towering over his slight frame in both height and width. But the boy only shook his head in response, incapable of producing words.
Gods, is he delectable…
The King leaned forward, his face just centimetres from Yongbok’s, and for a moment he swore he felt the boy’s heart stop. “It means, Yongbok , that you don’t work for my castle . You work,” he drew impossibly nearer to the small boy, inhaling the fresh, earthy scent of his skin, “for me .”
“And if you want to work for me,” he continued, now twirling a piece of Yongbok’s luscious hair around a long finger, “then you must prove your dedication to me. You must pledge your loyalty.”
Yongbok turned his head to the side, a sigh escaping his lips as his brows furrowed together. They were terrifyingly close now, he could see the specks of gold amidst the sea of darkness in the King’s eyes. “H-how?” he asked, voice breathy.
The King smiled, the action dimpling his cheeks in a frustratingly charming manner. And then in an instant, he was gone, manoeuvring his way back to his throne, taking his warmth and all of Yongbok’s rational thoughts with him.
“Seungmin,” he called, ignoring Yongbok’s inquiry entirely, “bring him to my chambers after dinner. Make sure to bathe and feed him. And for Gods’ sake, get him some damn shoes and a change of clothes.”
Seungmin nodded, bowing again, before coming forth to grip Yongbok’s slender arm in a large hand. He was ushered away, but not before he caught a glimpse of the King’s striking face, decorated with a smug expression.
“What are you doing, Sir?”
“I told you to address me by my name.”
“S-sorry…what are you doing, S-Seungmin ?”
The man in question was shoving tiny, bejewelled pins into his meticulously styled hair–which had been washed thoroughly in the private bathhouse the elder had led him to a few hours prior. Half of it had been drawn up into an intricate array of braids criss-crossing over each other, while the other half lay smooth and unhindered against his back, flowing freely to his waist.
“Making you presentable,” is all he received in response.
Yongbok winced at a particularly brutal stab of a pin against his scalp, sucking in air between his teeth as he flinched.
“Stay still .”
“Sorry…”
The elder servant regarded him with poorly concealed irritation, humming as he shook his head and admired his efforts. The boy was undeniably breathtaking, his beauty entirely reminiscent of the poems he read to Changbin and Jisung before bed, but he was a rose in a garden of thorns. Far too precious and pure for the Court of Miroh.
Far too beautiful.
And unfortunately, just the King’s type.
He’d known from the moment he’d laid eyes on the Levanteran boy, that his fate would divert from its intended path, and the glint in his King’s eyes only solidified that theory. But knowing Christopher, and knowing of the stubbornness that ran in his veins and the rampant desire he had to covet any beautiful thing, the new servant didn’t stand a chance.
He swiftly positioned the final pin into his hair, nodding in satisfaction as he took a step back.
The boy’s eyes drifted towards the small mirror before him, his eyes sparkling in surprise at his reflection. He looked like…like art. Seungmin had done a wonderful job of helping him begin his assimilation into Miroh’s culture, draping him in the expensive, dark fabrics of the House of Bang; that accentuated his petite build but remained modest enough that one would know he was nothing more than a part of the King’s staff.
So it didn’t make sense to him why Seungmin made the extra effort to lather his face in makeup and decorate him with expensive jewellery. And as quickly as it had come, the amazement wore off like a poorly crafted tincture.
“I…don’t understand.”
Seungmin merely sighed, shaking his head. “You will soon,” he spoke softly. “Now come. We mustn’t be late.”
Yongbok didn’t want to know what he meant as he was whisked away by the taller man.
“Come in.”
Yongbok’s head swerved towards Seungmin, whose face had taken on a serious impression. They were stood outside of the ridiculously large wooden doors that led to the King’s chambers, all dark mahogany and gilded embellishments, having knocked not even twice before the King was inviting the boy inside.
“This is where I leave you.”
Swallowing, Yongbok played with the loose fabric of his sleeve, overcome with anxiety. He didn’t wish to part with the elder boy, finding himself entirely unprepared to face the King unaccompanied.
“Don’t be afraid, Yongbok. He likes you.”
That did nothing to quell the panic in his chest, but he could say nothing as the Head Servant squeezed his shoulder in a final, desperate act of reassurance before retreating back down the corridor and disappearing from sight.
He inhaled a deep breath, grasping the handle in his hand before pressing down and pushing the door open. He didn’t immediately enter, choosing to instead poke his head through the slight opening he’d created. His frosty eyes scanned the expansive area that formed the King’s bedchamber, noticing that the only sources of light in the room were the lit fireplace and the two sconces on either side of the bed.
The King, however, was nowhere in sight. And for some strange reason, the fact allowed him to exhale a breath in relief.
“You can come in , Yongbok.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden presence of the King, who was walking out of what he assumed to be the ensuite, drying his face with a fluffy rag.
Yongbok felt the breath leave his lungs again.
King Christopher had changed into his nightclothes, a simple, flowy tunic of soft white fabric and black trousers that hugged the defined muscles of his legs. He no longer bore his crown, nor his rings or traditional bracelets. But even then, he looked exactly what a king ought to look like.
Yongbok doesn’t think he’s ever seen a man more prepossessing than the one before him.
He slowly moved into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Bracing himself, he turned around, immediately bowing again in an instinctual act of respect.
There was a deep chuckle from somewhere near the bed, but Yongbok couldn’t bring himself to sneak a glance to decipher its exact location.
“You don’t need to do that.”
Almost as if he were moving in slow motion, he brought himself out of the uncomfortable stance, standing tall once again. He bit his lip, a blush blooming under his painted features, uncertainty filling the brightness of his pale eyes.
“Come here,” beckoned the King.
On autopilot, the younger man shuffled towards the Wolf King, stopping a scant few feet away from him. “Your Highness,” whispered Yongbok, lowering his head. “To what do I owe the h-honour of your company?”
Christopher grinned, inspecting the beauty before him with undisguised admiration. He took a step closer to the long-haired boy, and then another, and another, until he was right in front of him and could smell the sweetness of the oil Seungmin had rubbed against his pulse points.
Without even thinking, he lifted his hand to the boy’s face, lightly gripping his chin between a thumb and forefinger, urging him to meet his eyes. Once he saw the entirety of Yongbok’s face, unobstructed by shadows, his brows drew together in distaste.
“That fool …”
“My Lord?”
“Seungmin, that mindless cretin. How dare he cover your sun-spots.”
Yongbok’s eyes widened slightly—out of everything that could have possibly come out of the King’s mouth, that was most assuredly one of the very last he’d ever expected.
Taking the rag he still held in his other hand, he brought it to Yongbok’s face, gently wiping away the skin-coloured makeup that concealed his freckles. The gesture was far more intimate than the new servant was familiar with, though he could not deny the vantage point this angle gave him, allowing him to ogle the King without seeming too shameless.
His skin was smooth and youthful, paler than his own, marred only by the long scar that ran down his eye. Though, if Yongbok were to be honest, the sight of it only added to the rugged handsomeness he was composed of. His nose was a smidgen too large for his face, but it suited his overall countenance, strong and straight and denoted his royal heritage. His eyes, likewise, were striking, an abyss of smoked wood and burnished gold.
Yongbok wasn’t sure he’d make it out of this meeting alive.
The King brushed the cloth over his cheeks, then his nose. There was something wild sparkling in his eyes, hungry yet wonderstruck all the same as he took his sweet time in relieving Yongbok of his makeup.
Once he was done, he discarded the rag carelessly to the side, cupping Yongbok’s cheek with a rough hand, observing his work.
His eyes danced from one point of the servant’s face to the next, drinking in every accessible centimetre he could like a man parched.
“Surely the gods must know what they did when they created you,” muttered the King under his breath, swiping a thumb over Yongbok’s bottom lip.
The boy felt his heart drop to his feet, yet before he could muster up the courage to say something, his world was turned on its head as the King spun him around.
He gasped, body tensing as Christopher’s arms came to wrap tightly around his waist, contouring his hard body against the softness of Yongbok’s. He could feel every muscle through the thin fabric of the King’s clothes along his back, could feel the man’s breath fan against his forehead.
“Empires would wage wars for you,” he whispered sultrily into his ear, delighting in the full-body shudder that overtook the boy’s smaller form.
He kissed the side of his neck, a barely-there caress of his lips against Yongbok’s heated skin, once.
“Lords would fall to their knees before you in worship. To revel in your perfection…”
Twice.
“Astronomers would beg to map the constellations of stars on your face…”
Three times.
He moved to the other side, running his nose along a prominent vein there. The freckled god smelled divine, like expensive wine and sun-dried cherries.
He wanted to devour him.
The King could feel Yongbok’s erratic heartbeat against his chest, causing him to smirk maliciously along the softness of the boy’s throat. He nipped at the sensitive skin, inhaling the wince that the boy involuntarily expelled like a breath of fresh air.
His hands wandered lower, down towards his navel, covered by the thick fabrics of his uniform. He untied the band at his waist, letting it fall to the floor as he shoved his hands beneath the layers, splaying them across the flat of his stomach and biting back the surprise he felt at the chiselled line of abs he’d discovered.
The boy shivered, eyes fluttering shut at the unfamiliar sensations that set his every nerve aflame, hands clenched firmly at his sides.
“But I …” purred the King, laving his tongue along Yongbok’s pulse.
“I would make you my Queen …”
Yongbok’s eyes flew open, body going rigid, a deep blush travelling from his cheeks and down the length of his neck.
“M-my Lord, don’t say such-such things,” he retaliated pathetically.
The King hummed, removing a hand from its exploration of the younger’s stomach to grip his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he breathed against the boy’s heart-shaped lips.
“We-well you shouldn’t say that , my King. Not…not to someone like-like me ,” he trailed off, lowering his gaze in shame.
The King stared at him with sharp eyes, lips parting in astonishment. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, voice hardened in contempt.
The boy’s brows drew together as he shook his head lightly, gaze fixated on the patch of skin visible from the wide neckline of the King’s shirt. “I-I am nothing , my King,” he began, voice small. “I have no rank nor coin to my name. No land, no education, no connections. To relay a sentiment such as that to someone like me implies that you are willing to-to risk the security of your throne and the support of your court and citizens.”
His bottom lip trembled as an onslaught of tears threatened to spill from his frosted orbs.
“Look at me,” the King demanded gently.
Yongbok shook his head, knowing not where the courage to do such a thing came from.
“ Look at me, Yongbok .”
Something in the King’s tone spared no room for disobedience, and so he reluctantly found himself staring into King Christopher’s eyes once again. The man had fire burning within those cavernous depths of amber, the sharp contour of his jaw ticking in agitation. “ Never again in my presence will you speak of yourself that way,” he spoke menacingly.
“But I-”
“ Never . Again .”
“Your Highness-”
“Money is not everything, Yongbok. Neither is rank or class. And one can always be taught to read and write,” his finger traced the curve of the younger’s cheek. “Never measure your worth by such trivial things, for they mean nothing in life, just as they mean nothing in death.”
“That’s… easy for you to say my Lord,” rebuked the Levanteran. “Y-you’ve never gone to bed hungry, you’ve never-you’ve never known what it’s like to not have a bed, or a roof over your head. You’ve no idea what it’s like to be so alone you forget the sound of your own voice. You don’t-” a watery exhale, “you don’t know what it’s like to-to be-”
The first tears escaped then, and his shoulders heaved with the sobs that followed. He pressed his hand against his mouth in a poor attempt of stifling them, but they escaped nonetheless. Frustrated, he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling thickly.
“To be used as a-a plaything for men with insufferable egos.”
The King sighed, lowering his hand to curl around the boy’s slender neck. It was warm, and the pulse turbulent.
“No, I don’t,” he replied honestly.
The boy shut his eyes, letting the tears fall freely down his face.
“But as long as you’re here, you will never have to experience those things again. No thing or person in my realm will dare to harm you, knowing that you are under the King’s protection.” He pulled the boy to him in an all-consuming embrace, laying his head atop Yongbok’s golden one.
“I’d like to see them try,” he murmured into his hair, a streak of possessiveness colouring his world a brilliant shade of red.
“I-I don’t want to impose on your Majesty’s generosity. You have hired me and taken me in. That is more than I could have ever asked for.”
The pair fell into a heavy silence then, wherein the only sound present within the chambers was the soft crackling from the fireplace, steady and comforting.
That is, until the King shattered the quietude with a hushed, yet determined:
“And what if I told you that I want to give you more than you could ever ask for?”
He heard the boy’s breath hitch against the exposed skin of his chest, and it ignited an unquenchable inferno within his heart. Blazing and bright and destroying everything that had the misfortune of finding itself in its path.
“ Let me show you. ”
Yongbok pulled away from the King, doe-like eyes staring up at him with those unbelievably stunning crystal-blue eyes. There was something in the King’s voice that had been seeping in and out of his tone since the moment he’d met him. It belied a carnal hunger that he’d seen in the men who’d grinned at him lustful gazes, only with Christopher there was no animosity.
Simply reverence.
As if Yongbok were a deity descended upon earth from the heavens.
As if he wanted to do nothing more than worship his every inch,
Treasure his every word,
Protect his every waking and slumbering moment.
The boy swallowed, overcome by the heavy lump settling into the pit of his stomach.
He’d only just met the King and yet…
He allowed the man to fondle him, gripping underneath his ass as he pushed him up and slanted his lips onto his own. Yongbok gasped into the King’s mouth, and the man was relentless, taking the opportunity to slip past the seam of his lips and into his mouth.
From then on there was a viciousness to the King’s actions that did nothing but take, take, take . A harsh clattering of teeth and the conjunction of saliva. Wet and warm and oh, so dizzying . The golden-haired boy could hardly breathe, the King was so ravenous. Ravaging his lips as if they were his final meal, licking around the hot cavern of his mouth and sucking on his tongue.
“So fucking sweet…” moaned the King, lifting the freckled siren and urging him to wrap his lithe legs around his waist. His lips then tore themselves away from Yongbok’s now swollen ones, trailing down the elegant line of his neck, biting, sucking deep bruises into his skin. He groaned at the way the boy’s head fell back, exposing more of the firm muscle of his throat to the King’s abuse.
His mouth left a wet trail of saliva down the golden skin of Yongbok’s throat, to the modestly exposed v of his chest and then to a clothed shoulder. Suddenly, he growled deep in his throat, startling the boy from his pleasure-induced haze, causing him to loll his head back to meet the King’s eyes.
Tilting his head, rendered utterly breathless, Yongbok found himself face-to-face with a flushed, puffy-lipped Wolf King, who was breathing just as heavily as he.
“I-”
He couldn’t even form a sentence before it was ripped from his throat, and the oxygen was simultaneously stolen from his lungs as his back came into contact with the smooth surface of the stone wall. He whimpered, chest heaving as the King navigated his way back to his lips, pulling the bottom one between his teeth. Yongbok’s eyes rolled back to his skull, a riptide of arousal flooding his body.
“Gods, look at you,” murmured the King once he’d forced himself away from Yongbok’s addictive mouth. “So fucked out and all I’ve done is kiss you.”
The boy moaned unabashedly at the King’s remark, pushing himself closer to the man’s clothed front, desperate for more contact, digging his heels into the back of Christopher’s thighs.
“I- please, I need -”
“What do you need from your King, my love?” he asked, pressing a chaste kiss to the younger’s lips.
Yongbok’s brows drew together as he chased his lips, mouth falling open, panting, incapable of even processing the overwhelming sensations that wracked his being, much less the endearment the man had addressed him with. “I need-need you, my Lord. Need you.”
“And how do you need me?” teased the King.
Yongbok made a desperate noise, whining lowly. “I-in me. Need you in me .”
Christopher smirked, hands squeezing the flesh of Yongbok’s ass, forcing the boy to press his crotch deeper against the King’s. His breathing became erratic as he gyrated his hips down onto the King’s apparent arousal, thick and solid and so fucking big .
Much to his dismay, he was lowered back onto the ground, unsteady on his boneless legs as he was less-than-gently shoved against the wall. With his cheek pressed against it, he relished in the coolness of the stone against his heated face, yet it did nothing to lessen the building heat in his stomach as the King made haste of unbuttoning the corset-like vest he had been dressed in.
He could feel the elder’s irritation with the intricacy of the buttoning, long fingers working deftly to remove the offending article of clothing that concealed his love’s body from him. Eventually, he’d grown inconsolably frustrated, gripping the fabric in his hands and pulling it to the sides, tearing through its thickness as if it were made of parchment.
Left in no more than a thin tunic similar to the King’s, the boy shivered at the elder’s display of brute strength, sucking air through his teeth as his eyes fluttered shut and he relinquished all sense of control.
Almost immediately, the King’s hands travelled to his hips, pulling him back against his own until a tell-tale hardness settled itself in between the cleft of his still-clothed ass. The King grunted at the friction, sighing into the boy’s hair as his wanton hands continued their journey down the Levanteran’s body. One remained latched onto the curve of his hip, the other winding its way to his front, cupping the obvious bulge that tented the soft fabric of his trousers.
Yongbok expelled a broken cry at the contact, rubbing his straining cock against the King’s hand, desperately wishing to be rid of his clothes so that he could feel the heat of the King’s skin on his.
Christopher chuckled, nosing at the boy’s ear. “So needy ,” he taunted, pressing down harder until the younger mewled in reckless abandon, arching his back; head falling against the King’s shoulder.
“Off, off, take it–take it off…” he begged, a hand coming to rest on the King’s, urging him on. “P-please, my King…please…”
“Patience, darling,” admonished the elder, tightening his grip on the boy’s hip.
“N- no ,” fussed Yongbok, moving his hand towards the waistband of his pants.
But the King of Miroh was not known for being merciful.
He gripped the beauty’s thin wrist in a large hand, pulling it away from his trousers and pressing it against his chest. Yongbok cried out in protest, fighting against the King’s firm hold as he frantically sought his own release.
“ Behave ,” chastised the King, removing his hand from the boy’s covered length entirely.
He spun the long-haired man around, not even allowing him a second’s worth of reprieve as his lips immediately descended upon him again, hungry and bruising and punishing against the younger’s sinful mouth. His tongue pushed back into the wet heat of it, massaging it along Yongbok’s equally eager one.
Soon enough, they were fighting for dominance–one moment, the King was devouring the servant with a vigour that could not be competed against, in the next, the boy was gripping the back of his neck with a shocking strength, rendering the King vulnerable to his enthusiastic ministrations. They moaned into each other’s mouth, breaths mingling, panting in unison.
The tightness in Chrisopher’s pants was maddening, it was unbearable, it was too, too much . Almost painful with how terribly he desired to bury himself in the younger’s heat, claiming the boy as his once and for all.
With a stifled grunt, he bit Yongbok’s lip again for good measure, smirking at the pained wince that tumbled out of the Levanteran’s mouth. He licked along the small bead of blood that collected in the centre of it, eyes rolling back at the sweetness of the iron that coated his tongue.
Yongbok watched with unabashed intrigue, heat pooling in his stomach at the unexpectedly sensual image of the King enamoured by the taste of his blood.
And the next thing he knew, he was suspended in the air again, nestled in Christopher’s strong arms as he was divested of his shoes and carried towards the king-sized bed that occupied the middle of his chambers. But the tender moment was short lived as he was all but thrown onto it, bouncing a few times before coming to a halt. Yongbok pulled his legs towards himself, eyes wide and slightly fearful as the King’s towering form loomed over his small body.
He leaned down, caging the exceptionally beautiful boy between his arms, levelling him with a stare that was far too much to bear. They were practically nose-to-nose, the scent of Yongbok’s perfume sending the King into a spiral–as if he hadn’t already by the sight of the freckled goddess alone.
“Have you ever lain with anyone?” he asked in a whisper.
Yongbok gulped, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat; long lashes fluttering delicately as he blinked, shaking his head with a shyness that didn’t match his previously demonstrated enthusiasm.
“N-no. I-I’ve only–my mouth…”
The King regarded him with something he couldn’t place, intelligent eyes glinting with an unnameable emotion, before he ultimately nodded.
“Then I shall go easy on you.”
Yongbok shook his head more fervently this time, lips parting as his eyes grew wild, crystalline orbs almost glowing in the dim light of the room. “No!” he exclaimed.
Christopher’s brows furrowed together in shock, a breathless “ what? ” barely audible above the sound of the boy’s rebukes.
“Don’t,” he murmured, “don’t…go ea-easy on me.”
The King stared at him.
“Y-your Highness.”
He laughed .
“I’m about to fuck you until you forget your own name and yet you still insist on addressing me by my titles…” he mused, fondness filling the slight cracks between the indiscernible glint in his unending orbs.
Yongbok blushed deeply, mouth opening and shutting comically as he struggled to find words.
The King laid a hand against the side of his head, threading his fingers through the unbelievably soft strands of the boy’s long, golden hair, the mirth leaving his eyes as his face became shadowed by intensity once again.
“Call me Chris .”
Yongbok’s eyes grew impossibly wider.
“I-I can’t possibly -”
“You must. It is your King’s command.”
The boy’s mouth shut immediately, forcing him to fall into silence. He gazed at the King, eyes not straying for a moment as they flickered with a thousand emotions. He took a deep breath, chest expanding, and in the same motion allowed it to leave his lungs in a sweet smelling exhale against Christopher’s face.
“Felix.”
The King raised a brow in question.
“M-my real name. Felix. Lee Felix.”
“ Felix ,” repeated the King, enchanted.
He nodded.
“Felix…”
A kiss against his cheek.
“Felix…”
The other.
“Felix…”
Against the tip of his nose, his eyelids, his forehead.
And finally, a singular, reverent kiss against his lips.
Felix sighed into it, for it was unlike any other they’d shared until this point. There was no hastiness fueled by unadulterated lust. No clanging of teeth or the copious exchange of saliva. No biting, no teasing, no blood.
Just…
Just Chris, and Felix, and…
And the promise of love .
Christopher was the first to pull away, pressing his forehead against the younger’s while making quick work of relieving the boy of his trousers and tunic, the urgency creeping up on them again as they worked in tandem to divest Felix of his clothing. Felix lifted his hips at the urging of the King, raising them off the bed so that the elder could remove his pants, pulling them down his slender legs and tossing them carelessly behind him. He then moved to the loose tunic that had already begun to unravel at the neckline, baring a smooth, freckled shoulder that he immediately latched onto.
He sucked on the unmarred skin, ravenous and hungry, deep purple blotches forming along the path made by his mouth. The boy moaned brokenly, turning his head to the side, granting Christopher more access to the supple skin of his shoulders and neck.
The King made his way to his collarbones, biting and licking at the prominent dips between them, pulling the skin between his teeth until the boy was writhing beneath him. He smirked against his abused skin, hands making their way beneath the tunic and to the bare of his narrow waist.
Felix gasped at the contact, shuddering as the King lifted it up and off his head, throwing it to join his previously discarded trousers on the floor. Now bare to the King’s gaze, his skin erupted in goosebumps at the way Christopher studied the parts now made visible to his keen eyes.
The man bit his lip, running a hand down the sculpted lines of his abs, towards his navel and to the jut of his hip bones. His other hand travelled towards a perky pink nipple, squeezing, pulling, causing the boy to quiver in ecstasy.
“Hm. Sensitive …”
Felix thrashed at a particularly harsh tug of his nipple, back arching from the bed because at the same time, the hand that had been traversing around the planes of his stomach was now grasping his cock.
“ Nngh , your High- Chris …”
“Yes, baby?”
“ More …”
The King squeezed the base of his cock, watching the boy closely for his reactions. “Mm, more what , angel?”
Felix squeezed his legs together, panting heavily. “M-more. That . More. moremoremoremoremore -”
Christopher chuckled, repeating the action, relishing in the way the younger’s mouth opened in a silent scream. He then circled his hand around the shaft, bringing it towards the head, rubbing along the slit with his thumb. He pumped Felix’s cockhead a few times, the younger’s hips stuttering against his hand in a desperate attempt to gain more friction.
He released a long sigh as he felt a knot beginning to form beneath his navel, tightening and tightening and tightening until it snapped entirely, ropes of white cum painting his stomach and spilling over the King’s hand.
“Yes. Oh, f-fuck, Chris. Fuck-ah-fuck yes…”
Christopher grinned, pumping the younger’s cock a few more times, propelling the boy into the realm of oversensitivity as he went on to fondle his balls. But before the boy could reach another orgasm, Christopher pulled away, wiping his hand along Felix’s thigh.
The freckled boy whined at the loss, body trembling against the silken sheets of the King’s bed. “Ah–so mean .”
Endeared by the boy’s desperation, the King pressed a kiss against Felix’s forehead, beaded with sweat.
“ Good boy …did that feel good?”
Felix nodded, near-delirious as he recovered from the sheer intensity of his release. “Mm, ‘s so good…” he mumbled, utterly spent. Chris ran his hand through the gold-spun threads of Felix’s hair–now falling from its meticulous style–mesmerised by the way the gems positioned into it glimmered in the flickering light of the fireplace.
So beautiful …he thought to himself, studying the boy’s profile. The curved slope of his nose, the pout of his kiss-swollen lips. He admired his sun-spotted cheeks, the long lashes of his eyes brushing against the tops of them. The sight caused him to coo in affection.
“Aw, sweet angel. Don’t doze off on me now…”
The boy turned his head towards the King, who was now removing his own clothes, hazy eyes widening once he’d registered what he was seeing.
“‘It’s my turn.”
Felix swallowed, crystalline orbs slanted attractively as Christopher’s godlike body came into view.
But he was robbed of the opportunity to admire it the way he would have liked to, much to his chagrin. For the King manoeuvred himself atop his body again, caging him beneath his hulking form. Felix reached up towards Christopher’s face, cupping his cheek, running a thumb along the bottom of his scar. The King pushed his face into the ridiculously petite hand, kissing the boy’s palm.
And as suddenly as the gesture had come, Christopher had gripped Felix’s wrist in his hand and turned him onto his stomach, extracting a surprised gasp from the smaller. He moulded his body into Felix’s, dwarfing him in a manner that made his heart clench in agony and the arousal swirling in his gut to maximise tenfold.
He rutted mindlessly against the plumpness of Felix’s ass, pinning his hands down into the mattress above his head. He rolled his hips against him, feeling the way precum slid down his cock to slicken the glide between Felix’s crack and his hard member.
A deep groan rumbled within his chest as the younger pushed himself back to meet Christopher’s thrusts, and he knew that if he didn’t sheath his cock within those velvety walls soon, he’d run the risk of having to live with the embarrassment of finishing prematurely like some hormonal teenager.
The King of Miroh would most assuredly not allow his reputation to be marred in such a way.
And so with a heavy heart, he lifted himself from the divine human beneath him, shaking off the sweat that had gathered at the nape of his neck. He pushed off of the bed, standing to his feet and finding himself bereft of the warmth he’d so quickly grown accustomed to.
Naked as the day he was born, he casually strolled to the chest anchored against one of the walls of his quarters, opening the third drawer with a practised ease. He pulled out a small jar of clear liquid, filled two-thirds of the way, encasing it snugly within the confines of his hand as he chanced a glance towards the silent boy on his bed.
He was met with the sight of a nude Felix stretched languidly atop the dark, silken pools of fabric spread messily about; a heavenly contrast between the goldenness of his being, all sun-kissed skin and lustrous locks falling in long waves around his shoulders and down his back. The boy was a picture of ecstasy personified, sensual yet innocent as he seemed almost like an angel who’d fallen into the clutches of Lucifer himself.
He was turned towards the King, his face pressed against his arms which he’d repositioned to crisscross beneath his head. His eyes, framed by a few strands of hair, were hooded with lust, piercing and sharp as he studied the King with unconcealed desire.
“You have a nice ass,” he spoke in that deep voice of his, unashamed.
Christopher smirked, shaking his head as he stalked towards the bed again, jar in hand. “Mm, so do you,” he remarked, slapping a hand against the soft flesh of Felix’s derrière, eliciting a cry from the boy’s lips.
“A-and a nice cock .”
The King scoffed as he kneaded the flesh, pulling at his cheeks until Felix’s rim was bare to his ravenous eyes.
He almost came on the spot seeing the tight pink ring of muscle clench against nothing.
“I’m glad you like it,” he murmured absentmindedly, too fixated on the vision beneath him. “It’ll be splitting you open soon enough.”
Felix shuddered at the promise, knowing damn well that it most certainly would be, given the fact that the King’s cock was easily the biggest he’d ever seen–in both length and width, with a long, curved shaft and a thick girth which would undoubtedly fill him in the best of ways.
He pushed his ass back, wiggling it impatiently in the King’s face.
He was rewarded with another harsh slap against the slightly reddened area of his ass cheek, causing him to hiss at the painful sensation. But the King said nothing, far too entranced by the boy’s virgin hole.
“ Fuck , you’re so small , sunshine…” he pressed a thumb along his rim, gauging the tightness, and Felix’s body immediately protested, fighting against the foreign intrusion. He pushed his face deeper into the cradle of his arms, face scrunching in discomfort as a soundless whine pushed past his lips.
Chris ran a soothing hand around the expanse of Felix’s back, down the arch of his spine and along the curve of his hip. He repeated the motion a few times, until the tension of the boy’s body seeped from his muscles, leaving him a boneless heap helpless to the King’s ministrations.
He tried again, though now he had dipped into the jar of clear liquid, rubbing the oil between his fingers to warm it up before pressing his fingers against Felix’s tight muscle again. This time, he was able to succeed in breaching the warmth, inhaling air through his teeth as Felix’s wet heat all but sucked his finger in to the knuckle.
Felix trembled, a sudden, high-pitched moan ripping from his throat.
“ M-more -” he begged.
The King was kind enough to oblige, pumping his finger in and out of Felix’s eager hole at a rapid pace, once, twice, three times. Right as he felt the pleasure was about to crest, pathetically close by a single finger alone, the King removed the digit entirely, exhaling deeply at the way his greedy hole tried in vain to remain clamped onto it. And before Felix could complain at the cruelty of Christopher’s actions, mouth poised to expel his frustrations, he was being filled with two . His hips jerked forward, cock brushing torturously against the smooth fabric of the King’s sheets, squashed beneath his hard body.
“Fu- ck -”
Christopher redoubled his efforts, ruthlessly scissoring the boy’s hole with masterful fingers, opening his tight cavern so that it would be able to take his ginormous cock. The Levanteran was sobbing beneath him, tiny hands gripping the silk tightly in his fists, laboured breaths tumbling from his luscious lips.
“Such a dirty mouth, darling. I never would have thought…” he shoved his fingers as far as they could go, searching for the boy’s bundle of nerves, searching, searching, searching; when Felix screamed, he knew he had found his mark, and he felt victorious . “...that an angel such- fuck -such as you would have a mouth like that .”
Felix mumbled indiscernible curses under his breath, face red and splotchy with tears, lips bitten to the point of bleeding. “ Hngh -ah, shit. ‘S only ‘cause of-of-” he cut himself off as the King took to massaging his prostate, relentlessly abusing his most sensitive area with those strong, long fingers of his.
“...’cause of you, my King ,” Felix moaned wantonly, an unintelligible slew of pleasepleaseplease following his admission.
The King raised a brow at the boy who couldn’t see his face, and yet he found himself grinning like a Cheshire cat, slowing his speed to an agonising snail’s pace.
“Should I keep going?” he asked, stilling all movement with his fingers still nestled inside of the twitching boy.
Felix manoeuvred his head back to measure the King with an expression of annoyance pinching his lovely features, brows drawn together in undeniable agitation. “No,” he spoke with a clarity he’d previously lacked.
Because something within Felix snapped .
The King, however, was taken aback. “ No ?”
Felix nodded, pulling himself off of the King’s fingers, wincing slightly as he brought himself to his knees.
Christopher stared at him, aghast, digits suspended in the air where they had been lodged in Felix’s tight heat. He watched, enraptured, as Felix crawled to him, as Felix gripped his cock that looked even bigger in his petite hand, as Felix’s perfectly ruined face was lit with a wicked smirk.
“No,” he repeated, languidly ghosting his fingers along the prominent vein on the side of the King’s shaft, “I don’t want you to keep going,” he breathed against Christopher’s plump lips.
“I want you to fuck me with your cock.”
Whimpering quietly, Christopher’s eyes fell shut, so overwhelmed by the combination of Felix’s crude honesty and teasing actions as he was.
“Fuck me, Chris ,” he goaded.
The King’s eyes flew open.
“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all along?” he asked, batting his lashes seductively. “To fuck your new servant, show him his place beneath you?”
Christopher’s cock twitched in response, precum trickling from his angry, red cockhead, coating the younger’s fingers.
“I bet that’s what you do with all of the new members of your staff. ‘Pledge your loyalty,’ hm? Does that mean sticking your cock in everyone with a hole to be filled? Is that it, my Lord? ”
Christopher’s eyes narrowed and he growled , deep and menacing, and the next thing Felix knew he was being pushed onto his back and filled to the brim with the King’s cock.
He screamed, high-pitched and splintered as the King began drilling into his hole without remorse. It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad but it felt so fucking good as the King took from him his pleasure without a single care as to giving him his.
“Fucking insolent little slut , you’re better when you’re stuttering through your goddamn sentences,” seethed the King, attacking the boy’s prostate with every thrust of his hips. He pushed Felix’s legs apart, spreading them so that they bracketed his waist, forcing him to present his hole like a two-bit whore.
Felix laughed haughtily through his stuttered breathing, biting his lip at a particularly rough jab of the King’s cock against his prostate, the merciless drag of his rock hard length along his tight walls catapulting him into a frenzy of lust-induced bliss.
Sweat coated their bodies in a glossy sheen, Felix’s long strands plastering onto his damp skin and clinging to his neck as he was fucked deeply into the mattress. His hands wrapped around the King’s shoulders, nails digging into the corded muscle, leaving irritated, red welts in the wake of the brutal scratches he was carving into the elder’s skin.
They travelled lower, down the line of Christopher’s back and towards the substantial swell of his delectable ass, sinking his fingers into the firmness of it, pulling him even deeper into his hole.
They moaned in conjunction, drunk off the ecstasy that fuelled their animalistic lovemaking.
Christopher stared down at the boy beneath him, at the way his face was scrunched up in pure, unadulterated euphoria, mouth hanging open, tears sliding down the corners of his shut eyes, making a mess of the dark makeup that accentuated them.
A perfectly debauched angel caught in the midst of Lucifer’s corruption.
He couldn’t help but lean down, capturing those lips in a fervent kiss, clashing teeth and tongues and spit. Licking along the line of his pearly white teeth and drinking in the boy’s incessant mewling like a finely aged wine. Desperate, bruising, punishing.
His hand wrapped around the base of Felix’s slim throat, putting enough pressure that the boy’s eyes rolled back into his skull, the lightheadedness dizzying but oh so good .
Once it became too much, though, he separated his lips from the King’s, jerking his head away from the man’s demanding mouth and inhaling lungfuls of air. Chest heaving, abs flexing, he felt exhaustion creep up on him, losing all perception of sensible thought as he became hyper fixated on achieving his release and nothing else.
The King, however, seemed unphased. Invigorated, almost, as he continued to plough into Felix’s abused hole like a madman. He had now latched his mouth onto one of Felix’s nipples, lapping at the bud like a dog starved, as though, if he were to try hard enough, he’d be able to syphon milk from the modest swell of his pec.
Felix felt it again–the pull . The swirling in his gut building faster and faster and faster-
“I’m gonna cum. Chris–fuck, I’m gonna cum -”
“Yeah? Me too, princess. Let go with me.”
Felix bit his lip again, staring into the King’s eyes as his breathing became even more erratic than it had been. He could feel the King losing control, thrusts becoming sloppy and losing momentum as he stayed determined to hit Felix’s prostate dead-on.
He lowered his arms from Christopher’s waist, pushing himself onto his elbows to lay a swift peck against the tip of his nose, dazedly smiling up at the King as he felt the pleasure reach a precipice.
“Cum for me, my love,” encouraged the King, breathless.
“ Cum for me .”
Felix gasped into his mouth, wrapping his arms around the elder’s neck, breathing heavily into the moistened skin at the side of it. His hands sank into Christopher’s damp curls, pulling at the roots.
Spurred by the stinging pain, the King hoisted himself onto his knees, one hand anchoring itself to the back of Felix’s head, the other curling around his tiny waist as the younger wrapped his legs around his own. At the new position, he felt the King’s cock reach even deeper, and he dug his heels into the small of Christopher’s back to steady himself against the insurmountable pleasure that flowed listlessly through his veins.
He thrusted harshly once, twice, hips snapping against Felix’s ass, lewd sounds of skin slapping skin acting as a background to the growing heaviness of their breaths. The boy practically bounced in his lap at the intensity of the final few thrusts, broken moans catching in his throat as he laid his forehead against Christopher’s sweaty shoulder.
With a long, animalistic groan, the King suddenly stilled, pumping his hot seed into Felix’s quivering hole as his walls milked him dry. Reaching his own high, Felix threw his head back, a pornographic moan filling the vastness of the King’s chambers while his painfully hard cock spilled another stream of cum untouched, coating his and Christopher’s chests with his pearlescent release. Now baring the graceful line of his neck to the elder, the King placed a gentle kiss along the hollow of Felix’s throat, panting against the clammy skin there.
They stayed like that for a few moments, regaining their bearings, catching their breaths and clinging onto each other as if they’d wither without the other’s presence.
Felix brushed the hair out of his eyes, looking down at the King with clear, blue eyes. Christopher smiled lopsidedly at him, pushing a lock of hair behind Felix’s ear, placing a reverent kiss at the tip of his button nose. He then lifted the younger in his arms, hearing him whimper as Chrisopher’s softening cock slid from his puffy rim, manoeuvring the both of them to a more comfortable position in the bed. He pulled the boy towards him, bringing him close so that Felix could rest his head on his chest, legs entwining.
Felix sighed, absently tracing the ridges of Christopher’s abs.
“Are you alright?” asked the King, voice soft.
Felix hummed in content, smiling against the smooth skin of Christopher’s firm chest. “More than,” he whispered in return, blushing.
Christopher chuckled, brushing a hand through Felix’s surprisingly untangled tresses, fingers catching along the gems still littering his hair. “Let us catch our breath, and then I’ll draw us a hot bath.”
“That sounds lovely…“ agreed Felix.
In each other’s arms, the crackle of the fire lulled the pair into a comfortable silence, rejuvenating yet glaringly intimate. Felix could have fallen asleep here, but the stickiness between his thighs and the warm cum oozing from his sensitive hole was bordering unpleasant. He felt dirty, felt his muscles protesting, felt the lower area of his back aching.
“Felix…” began the King.
“Yes, my Lord?”
“Chris, please ,” he admonished, “there is something I wish to ask of you.”
“Of course.”
The King bit his lip, staring at the back of Felix’s head as his hand continued its mindless trek along the boy’s bare back. “My brother Jeongin and his husband Hyunjin, the Dukes of Yellow Wood, they…they travel here in a few days.”
Felix’s finger paused on Christopher’s stomach, breath halting. “Wh-what would you have me do? I can ask Seungmin to teac-”
Without hesitating, “I would like for you to meet them.”
The boy pulled himself away from the King’s chest, hair flying, eyes widening as he looked down at the man with sheer bewilderment. “ What? I-I don’t understand-”
Christopher cupped the boy’s face, running a thumb along the spattering of freckles on his cheek. “You are so beautiful…” he murmured, as if he was seeing Felix for the very first time.
But Felix ignored the comment, even if it caused the butterflies in his stomach to flutter wildly. “Chris, how would you even-no. No. You can’t .”
“I told you, I don’t say things I don’t mean. My brother ought to meet his future Queen.”
The boy blushed, an exasperated sigh tumbling from his lips. He then rolled his eyes, deciding to humour the King with this ridiculous sentiment he was so adamant on making true of. “How would you even introduce me? As the servant boy hired not one week prior to his arrival? Or better yet, the poor Levantera-”
“As the part of myself I’ve been searching for all my life.”
Felix’s mouth snapped shut, tears immediately filling his eyes as the King regarded him with so much affection his heart nearly burst at the sight. Christopher kissed him then, pulling him down to his lips with a hand at the back of his head.
And all the while, Felix couldn’t help but think that perhaps the stories about the King of Miroh weren’t so true after all.