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The sky roared with a tempest of powerful wings moving against the icy winds, their collective force splitting the air like rolling thunder. The very atmosphere trembled beneath the might of the dragons, their scales glinting under the light of the sun. Some soared with grace, weaving between the clouds in playful aerial dances, their roars ringing like distant echoes. Some circled one another in an unspoken challenge, each beast exalting in its own magnificence. Some swooped low, skimming the clouds with a flick of their tails, their presence a whispered promise of the power they wielded. It was a dance of sound and movement, a celestial storm of beasts so great that even nature bowed to their majesty.
Below them stretched the endless white expanse of the Northern lands, a realm frozen to its very core. Snow blanketed the jagged peaks, shimmering like diamonds under the pale sun. Ice-clad mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks reaching hungrily toward the clouds, crowned in frost and untouched by time. This was a sacred land, a place ruled not by any single clan, but by nature itself—a land where only the strongest dared to tread.
In the middle of the Northern lands stood a grand castle, an imposing fortress carved from ice and obsidian, its spires piercing the sky like frozen lances. A bastion of power, unyielding and absolute—this was the lair of the Dragon King, the undisputed sovereign of all clans. The castle had been built upon neutral ground, ensuring that no single clan could claim it as their own. It was here that dragons of all breeds and kinds gathered under the one decree:
The annual mating flight ritual.
The call had been sent far and wide, reaching every clan that roamed the skies and seas. The unmated dragons were to gather, to seek their partners. All the clans respected the King of them all, for he had been the one to initiate the tradition of inter-clan mating, a practice that allowed dragons to strengthen and unlock dormant abilities that could only be awakened through the merging of different dragon ancestries.
This tradition ensured the survival of even the weakest clans, allowing them to rise in strength and prominence, their offspring inheriting powers that would have otherwise remained undiscovered. Through this, the balance of power shifted with each generation, preventing stagnation and forging alliances between once-warring clans.
The bright skies darkened with their numbers, the storm of wings blotting out the pale light. Some dragons landed in graceful spirals, their long tails slicing through the air, while others landed with resounding thuds, shaking the very earth beneath them. Claws dug into the snow, steaming breaths hissing against the frigid air. One by one, the beasts began to shift, their colossal forms folding inward, scales melting away like liquid light. Within moments, where once stood creatures of awe-inspiring terror, now stood figures of regal poise—dragons in their human form, their beauty as breathtaking as their beastly might.
They made their way toward the castle, the crunch of boots on ice echoing like whispers against the silent tundra. The castle doors stood open, grand and inviting, revealing a world of opulence within. The interior was a realm of splendor, adorned with precious jewels that glowed like captured starlight. Walls carved from the purest ice reflected the flickering golden light of the sconces, while great banners bearing the sigils of each clan draped from the towering ceilings. The hall had been built to house the grandest of gatherings, its scale vast enough to accommodate even the most powerful of dragons.
Inside the grand hall, where towering pillars of carved obsidian met a ceiling adorned with intricate constellations of ancient dragon lore, the air hummed with quiet anticipation. At the head of the expansive table sat the undisputed ruler of all clans, the one who had brought order to the chaos of warring dragons. His throne was forged from molten gold and hardened dragonsteel, a seat befitting the most powerful among them.
He was the first one who had shaped the laws of their kind, the harbinger of their future. His name was Yoon Jae, the Dragon King, the eternal sovereign of the skies. His gaze swept over the gathered dragons, his expression suffused with an authority that none would dare challenge.
Before him stretched a table vast enough to host the Alpha leaders of every dragon clan, each seat reserved for the most dominant of their kind, their chosen mates seated beside them as a symbol of unity and power.
One by one, the clans arrived, stepping through the arched entrance with an air of regality, their names called out with thunderous reverence. The great Ryung Clan, known for their fire-born dragons whose scales shimmered in hues of gold, strode in first. Their clan Alpha, Ju Wun, bore skin etched with glowing embers, his presence exuding raw heat, as if the very air around him could ignite with a single command.
Following them was the Seung Clan, shadow-born dragons with eyes like endless voids, leaving wisps of darkness in their wake. Their clan alpha, Lady Eunji, moved with the silence of the abyss itself, her form flickering between solid and incorporeal.
As more clans entered—each bringing with them their unique essence, be it the thunderous might of the Won Clan or the earthen resilience of the Juns—the room began to swell with auras so powerful that the very walls seemed to tremble in response. Dragons of all kinds took their places, their gazes flickering toward the head of the table, awaiting the ceremony to begin.
Without warning, the temperature in the room plummeted. A hush fell over the gathering as the great doors groaned open once more, revealing the arrival of the Park Clan.
Where other dragons carried themselves with brute strength or untamed ferocity, the Park Clan moved like royalty carved from ice. Their entrance was not loud, nor did it need to be. The moment their clan Alpha stepped forward, the air seemed to freeze mid-motion, particles of moisture crystallizing into delicate frost patterns in his wake.
His very presence commanded awe. The ruler of the Ice Dragons, was a vision of breathtaking beauty. His silvered hair, kissed by the eternal frost of his homeland, framed a face so finely sculpted it appeared almost otherworldly. Eyes like glacial sapphires bore into the room, their gaze cutting through the gathered leaders like shards of ice.
Beside him, his Luna exuded a snowy allure, their combined presence an evidence to the clan’s famed beauty. Behind them trailed their kin, each member of the Park Clan carrying the same ethereal grace, their clothes glinting like the polished diamonds beneath the torches’ glow.
The clan Alpha Daeyun approached the head of the table, each step echoing with the weight of centuries. As he reached the Dragon King, he inclined his head—a respectful bow, though his expression remained unreadable. A silent acknowledgment of power, of tradition, of the unspoken hierarchy that governed their kind.
They both settled into their seats, the grand hall shimmering with the brilliance of countless people gathered under one roof. The atmosphere was thick with power, with the weight of centuries-old traditions pressing upon every soul present. Yet despite the magnificence of the occasion, the Luna of the Park Clan found her attention wavering, drawn instead to the lone figure standing beside her—an exquisite being who seemed to exist outside of time itself.
With a sigh, the Park clan’s Luna turned her gaze towards him. "Seonghwa, we have talked about this."
Seonghwa.
If perfection could take form, it would undoubtedly bear his name. He was an ethereal being untouched by imperfection. His silken hair of purest silver, shimmered like fresh-fallen snow beneath the glow of the grand chandeliers above. Each strand caught the light in such a way that it seemed woven from the very fabric of the stars, glistening like diamonds with every movement.
His skin, flawless, carried a faint glow, kissed only by the cold of his lineage, untouched by the harshness of time. His eyes held depths akin to the frozen lakes of his homeland—haunting, endless, unfathomable. They were orbs that could pierce through souls, holding a beauty so rare that even the most hardened warriors faltered beneath his gaze.
The garments that adorned his figure were nothing short of celestial. A robe of the finest gossamer silk draped his frame, hugging his slender yet strong build in all the right places. The fabric, an enchanting mix of silver and white, shimmered like the frost-kissed northern lights. Intricate embroidery of delicate ice flowers and patterns adorned the sleeves and hem, spun with threads of platinum that shimmered like the first frost of winter.
The belt cinched at his waist was adorned with tiny sapphires and pearls, cascading in delicate chains that jingled softly with every breath. Around his neck, a choker of silver wrapped snugly, adorned with a single, luminescent blue gem, pulsing faintly like a captured star.
He was the embodiment of winter's most delicate beauty—untouchable, unyielding, and breathtakingly beautiful.
"Yes, Luna, but—" he hesitated, his voice as smooth as flowing ice, melodic and rich with the elegance of someone who had never once known the touch of mediocrity.
The Luna sighed once more, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Unlike his own touch, which was as cold as the tundra winds, hers was warm—a grounding presence in his world of frost.
"You promised you would at least try, Seonghwa," she reminded him, her voice gentle yet firm, as though speaking to a wary animal poised to bolt. "I am not forcing you to do anything, but these are the rules. This is why we are here. Just talk to someone, who knows? You might like them."
Seonghwa inhaled deeply, his lips pressing into a thin line. The clan Luna had always been kind to him, always understanding his feelings in ways others failed to. She spoke to him not as a command, but as someone who genuinely wished to see him find happiness in his own way. And Seonghwa—despite all his arrogance, despite the walls of ice he had built around himself—could never refuse her when she spoke with such warmth.
Bowing slightly, he conceded. "I will try, Luna."
With elegance, he turned on his heel and stepped away from the Park Clan’s designated space, moving toward the growing crowds of dragons who had begun mingling freely amongst themselves. He watched, eyes scanning the room, taking in the sight of the new dragons-some towering and broad, some lithe, and sharp even in their human forms—laughing, talking, and entertaining one another with practiced charm. It was all so utterly mundane. Seonghwa had no care for any of it, and as far as he was concerned, none of these dragons deserved even a moment of his time.
He scoffed under his breath, a gloved hand flicking a shorter strand of moonlit hair back from his face. Mating. The very thought of it made him roll his eyes. Was he supposed to simply look at one of these dragons and think, Ah yes, you are worthy of me?
Ridiculous.
Seonghwa had always been high maintenance—not cruel, but meticulously selective. If perfection existed, then why should he settle for anything less than it? No, none of these dragons were deserving of him, of his time, his attention, his presence. To be his mate would require more than just brute strength or whispered words of admiration. It would require something… more.
And he doubted any of them possessed it.
With that thought firmly settled in his mind, Seonghwa made no effort to entertain any potential suitors. Instead, he let his feet guide him toward the one presence in the room that he did not find intolerable—his friend, Wooyoung. The said dragon was practically vibrating with excitement, engaged in what appeared to be a very animated conversation with one of the dragons from another clan.
Seonghwa rolled his eyes in exasperation as he approached Wooyoung. Without a word, he reached forward and tugged at the fabric of Wooyoung’s shimmering attire, a silent yet demanding signal for him to step away.
Wooyoung, ever perceptive, turned to glance at Seonghwa, his lips curling into a smirk before he bid a teasing farewell to the dragon he had been conversing with. But not before adding a final flourish—blowing a playful kiss toward the other dragon, whose cheeks darkened in bashful delight at the flirtation. The reaction only fueled Wooyoung’s mischief as he chuckled under his breath before allowing himself to be dragged aside.
Seonghwa, thoroughly unimpressed, huffed as he tugged Wooyoung aside, dragging him a few steps away from the gathering. The moment they were at a reasonable distance, he finally spoke, voice filled with unimpressed disdain. “Wooyoung, how can you even indulge with… them?”
Wooyoung turned his full attention to Seonghwa, eyebrows raised as he folded his arms. “Seonghwa, you’re talking like I was talking to trash.”
Seonghwa scoffed, tilting his chin higher as he let his glacial gaze sweep over the gathered dragons once more. “Because you were,” he said flatly, as though stating a fact rather than an opinion. The very idea of mingling with dragons outside his clan had always been unappealing to him.
Wooyoung sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.” His hands moved in expressive gestures as he tried to reason with Seonghwa.. “This isn’t just about finding some dragon to take to bed. There are perks—political alliances, stronger abilities and a mate bond that could be your greatest asset. Even you can’t ignore that forever.”
Seonghwa, however, looked utterly disinterested. His crystalline eyes remained distant, his expression unreadable. Whatever Wooyoung was saying did not seem to penetrate the thick walls of his indifference. If anything, he looked more bored than before, his thoughts straying elsewhere as he absentmindedly adjusted the iridescent sleeve of his attire. He had yet to meet a single dragon worthy of standing at his side, let alone sharing the intimacy of a bond with him.
“You’re not even listening,” Wooyoung accused, exasperation heavy in his voice.
“I heard every word,” Seonghwa said, nonchalant as ever. “I just don’t care.”
Wooyoung groaned in frustration but didn’t argue further. He knew Seonghwa well enough to recognize when his mind was made up. There was no forcing him into anything, not unless he decided for himself that it was worth his time.
As the two of them made their way back towards the grand table where the clan leaders were seated, a sudden shift in the atmosphere caught Seonghwa’s attention. The air seemed to settle, a momentary stillness falling over the gathering, and then—
A resonant announcement echoed through the grand hall.
Seonghwa furrowed his brows slightly. He had assumed the clan introductions were complete since all the alphas had already taken their seats, their partners by their side. So why, then, was another clan name being called?
But as he glanced toward the grand table, his sharp eyes caught it—a single, unoccupied seat positioned directly opposite his own clan Alpha, right beside Yoon Jae, the Dragon king.
His gaze lingered on that empty chair, curiosity flickering in the depths of his eyes. Whoever was meant to sit there must hold great significance if their seat was positioned with such importance, directly at Dragon king’s side.
But who could it be?
Loud roars erupted from just beyond the towering castle doors, rattling the very foundation of the grand hall. It was the kind of sound that sent shivers down the spine, not from fear but from the intensity of raw power it carried. It was as if the very air vibrated in anticipation, the icy walls of the northern castle seeming to tremble in response. Outside, the flapping of massive wings whipped up a gust of wind, howling through the walls like an announcement of what was to come. The heavy snow that blanketed the land danced in the air, disturbed by the landing of beasts so formidable that the very ground beneath them seemed to groan.
Seonghwa scoffed, arms crossed over his elegantly clad front. He couldn't see what was going outside but he could tell by the sound. Barbaric, he thought. Shifting right outside the castle doors—how utterly mannerless. Any dragon of grace and class knew to shift a few paces away, to compose themselves before entering a place of significance. To walk rather than stomp. To glide rather than impose. But these dragons—these newcomers—clearly lacked such refinement.
The towering doors, carved from black obsidian and glacial ice, groaned as they were pushed open, the ancient stone resisting before finally parting to reveal the figures beyond. Seonghwa expected some brutish Alpha to storm in, all brawn and arrogance, a beast with no control over his own ferocity. But what entered first was something altogether different.
The first figure to step inside was not some broad-shouldered beast of a man but someone lean, and dangerously composed. His stature, though not as hulking as the dragons flanking him, carried a weight that was undeniable. He moved with the confidence of someone who did not need exaggerated displays of strength to command attention. Power simply radiated from him in thick waves, suffocating, consuming.
The very air around him shimmered with residual heat, causing the edges of his dark, embroidered coat to ripple as though embers still clung to its fabric. The air shifted with his presence, the residual heat from his transformation making the space feel impossibly warmer despite the castle’s naturally cold atmosphere.
The sigil of the Kim Clan, the infamous Lava Clan, gleamed on a metal clasp securing his fur coat at the shoulder a molten gold emblem of fire twisting into a dragon’s coiled form. His hair, a striking contrast to the infernal energy he exuded, was ink-black, catching the light just before fading into darkness. His skin, kissed by the sun rather than the frost, had a golden undertone that made his sharp, angular features all the more striking. And then there were his eyes—liquid gold with an inner glow, like molten metal still fresh from the forge.
Dragons were known for their presence, but this one? This one had silence bending to his will. Every dragon in the hall seemed to still, their conversations faltering, their movements slowing as the Alpha of the Kim Clan took his first step inside. A few clenched their jaws, as though resisting the urge to bare their necks in instinctual deference.
Seonghwa’s fingers twitched against the delicate fabric of his robe, his own icy energy bristling at the vast contrast between them. This was the Alpha of the Kim Clan? He had anticipated a beast, not someone who looked shorter than himself.
Behind him, the rest of his clan followed, moving like shadows to their sun. They were taller than him—massive, battle-worn, and undeniably powerful—but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind who the true Alpha was. It was not dictated by size, nor by muscle. It was in the way he carried himself, in the way his sharp, molten gaze swept over the hall, assessing, calculating.
Seonghwa caught Wooyoung nudging him relentlessly to acknowledge the mountain of a dragon who had entered alongside the clan Alpha, his eyes alight with intrigue. Seonghwa, however, barely acknowledged it, his own attention locked on the one leading the clan.
The Alpha of the Kim Clan took another step, eyes scanning the hall with a slow motion.
And from the way the entire hall held its breath, he was not the only one who realized that something about this arrival demanded absolute attention.
Seonghwa’s gaze flickered over the members of the Kim Clan, his sharp eyes drinking in every detail. Unlike the other clans, who adorned themselves in layers of silks, metals, or elaborate embroidery that signified their heritage, these dragons carried themselves with an eerie simplicity—dressed in nothing more than black dress shirts and fitted pants, their powerful forms draped in heavy furs that fell over their broad shoulders like the pelts of beasts they had conquered. No unnecessary adornments, no gleaming jewels or intricate embroidery—just fabric and fur, as if they had no need for vanity, no need to prove their status with anything other than their presence alone. They were not here to impress. They came to dominate.
Seonghwa had heard the rumors, whispered through the halls of his icy palace. A new clan had emerged, not as an offshoot of an existing one but as something entirely new—something built from the ground up with no reliance on past legacies. Formed by strength alone, their reputation had spread like wildfire. They were not large in numbers, but they didn’t need to be. It was said that each member of the Kim Clan carried power potent enough to rival entire battalions.
Some believed their leader had gathered only the strongest, selecting each member as if forging an elite unit rather than an ordinary clan. Others whispered that they had no need for large numbers because their lava burned hotter, their strength denser, their sheer presence enough to send seasoned warriors dragons into submission.
His eyes returned to the Alpha, the one who commanded such power with nothing more than his presence. He watched as he moved. He did not rush, did not hesitate, as if he knew exactly where he was meant to be. His clan followed behind him in a disciplined formation, not a single one breaking rank, not a single one stepping out to mingle like the other clans had. They stood at attention, waiting. Waiting for what, Seonghwa did not know, but he had a feeling it was not out of hesitation. No, this was obedience. They would not move unless their clan Alpha willed it.
With effortless grace, the clan Alpha reached the Dragon King’s table and inclined his head in a bow, a display of respect that was neither meek nor forced. The Dragon king observed him, then accepted the gesture with a nod. With an outstretched hand, he motioned toward the seat beside him—a seat that had been conspicuously empty until now.
“Where is your Luna, Hongjoong?” The king inquired, his voice carrying across the hall.
Seonghwa, who had been watching in quiet curiosity, felt a flicker of intrigue at the question. Yes, it was customary for Alphas to arrive with their Lunas, especially to events such as this. And judging by the unwavering posture of the Kim Clan warriors standing behind their leader, there was no question that they were all Alphas as well. It only made sense that their Alpha would have a Luna of equal standing.
The Alpha did not hesitate, did not falter, as he responded with a voice as steady as stone.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Seonghwa blinked, his thoughts momentarily thrown into disarray. Here for what?
The Dragon king seemed equally intrigued. “Oh? Are you participating in the Mating Flight as well?”
“Yes.”
Seonghwa blinked, his expression unreadable. That... was unexpected.
It was rare—almost unheard of—for a clan’s Alpha to participate in the mating flights. For an Alpha of the Kim clan’s standing to willingly subject himself to this tradition meant that he was either desperate to secure a mate or confident that he would leave victorious. Seonghwa doubted it was the former.
After all that Seonghwa had heard and known, Lunas were never chosen by mere instinct. They were selected with precision, through politics, through strategies that secured alliances and strengthened legacies. A Luna was not just a mate; they were a keystone, a carefully placed pillar in the grand structure of power, ensuring that the foundations of a clan remained unshaken for generations.
Yet here stood the Kim clan’s Alpha willingly stepping into the Mating Flight—a ritual meant for those seeking their destined bond. It was never before seen. Alphas of his standing did not entrust their ruling to something as unpredictable as instincts.
And yet, he had come.
Seonghwa’s gaze flickered toward him, the reality of it setting in. He was the first clan Alpha Seonghwa had ever seen take this path. No arranged bonds, no careful negotiations, no months of deliberation amongst the other clan alphas. Just instinct. Just his own choice.
The Dragon King’s voice echoed through the grand hall, a deep timbre that demanded attention, carrying the weight of centuries of rulership. He stood, tall and regal, his presence alone enough to silence the room.
"Wonderful," he declared, his tone filled with finality as he clapped his hands together as he motioned Hongjoong to sit down, drawing every pair of eyes toward him. The murmurs that had scattered across the gathering faded, replaced by an expectant hush, each clan turning their attention toward the sovereign of their kind.
"As you all know from the letters sent to each of your clans, we have gathered here for one purpose," the king continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembled dragons. "The Mating Flight shall commence tomorrow." A rush of acknowledgment went through the gathered dragons, slight nods exchanged between them as they listened. "Accommodations have been prepared," the king went on, his gaze sweeping the hall, "with private chambers for the clan Alphas and their Lunas, shared lodgings for your warriors and members. While you remain within these halls, it is expected that you conduct yourselves with dignity befitting your status. Any transgression to the traditions set forth, will not be taken lightly. Any violation of the sanctity of this event will be facing immediate banishment, severing your ties with your clans permanently. I trust this will not be necessary."
His words settled over them like a decree carved into stone. The weight of his authority was absolute. Seonghwa listened, his expression neutral, but his mind whirled with thoughts that refused to settle. His hands remained folded neatly before him, his back straight, every inch of him poised in an air of detachment. But something gnawed at him beneath the surface, something that made it impossible to focus on the king’s words, no matter how important they were.
It was a feeling—a sensation prickling at his senses, something sharp and unrelenting. The undeniable awareness of being watched.
At first, he resisted. He refused to acknowledge it, pushing against the sensation with his willpower. But it was futile. The stare was too heavy, too consuming, boring into him like molten steel against ice. Seonghwa’s breath hitched for just a fraction of a second—too imperceptible for anyone to notice, but enough for him to feel the shift in his own composure. The restraint he prided himself on wavered.
Slowly, cautiously, he turned his head, his gaze drifting in the direction from which the sensation emanated. His movements were careful, as if he feared that meeting those eyes directly would solidify the presence pressing into him. And then—his gaze locked onto the source.
The Alpha of the Kim clan- Hongjoong.
Seonghwa recalled the name from when the Dragon King had asked him about his Luna. Hongjoong sat beside the Dragon King, his body relaxed yet controlled by the manner of someone who owned every space he occupied. His golden eyes, flickering like embers barely restrained from erupting into flame, were fixed directly on Seonghwa. There was no mistaking it—no chance that it was a coincidence. Hongjoong was watching him.
Seonghwa knew he should look away. He knew he should have. He should have dismissed the interaction, ignored the weight of that gaze, and returned his attention to the matter at hand. But he couldn’t. Not when Hongjoong held him there, ensnared, with nothing but his unwavering focus. It was unlike anything Seonghwa had ever encountered before. Most Alphas he had dealt with were brash, loud, eager to assert dominance through force. But Hongjoong—he exuded something different. Power, yes, but restrained. A controlled inferno simmering beneath the surface, waiting, biding its time.
Seonghwa felt a shiver crawl up his spine, and it infuriated him. He was not some wide-eyed dragon caught under an Alpha’s presence for the first time. He had met countless Alphas, some even more renowned than the one seated before him, and yet—none of them had looked at him like this. Like they were trying to unravel his secrets to themselves.
Seonghwa suddenly felt very naked under the weight of the Alpha’s gaze. It wasn’t just the typical observation one made when surveying a room—it was far heavier and palpable, something that curled around him like unseen tendrils, pressing against his very skin, coaxing the smallest shiver up his spine. It was a look that stripped away layers, that sought to pull something from within him before he even had the chance to name it. And Seonghwa refused.
He would not give even a single inch.
Lifting his chin ever so slightly, his sharp jawline catching the glow of the golden chandeliers above, Seonghwa tilted his head, a clear, wordless challenge embedded within the movement. His eyes locked onto Hongjoong's with a silent command of their own.
Back. Off.
The Alpha did not falter. If anything, the response was the opposite. The corner of Hongjoong’s lips curled, a slow smirk stretching across his face, the flicker of amusement in his eyes showing that he had received the message—loud and clear. Yet, instead of relenting, the Lava Alpha seemed entertained by Seonghwa’s audacity, his gaze growing impossibly heavier, like molten metal being poured into a mold, refusing to be ignored.
There was something darkly knowing in his expression, as if he had already unraveled the thoughts inside Seonghwa’s mind before he even had the chance to process them himself. As if he saw right through the icy exterior, down to something far more vulnerable—something that Seonghwa did not wish to be seen.
A flicker of warmth rushed through him, and it took every ounce of discipline to smother it immediately. No. He would not react. He refused to react. Seonghwa clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe evenly, to steel his features into something utterly impassive. Yet, his fingers twitched slightly where they were by his robes. For a split second, he thought—no, he knew—that the Alpha was toying with him, pushing the boundaries.
But then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it was over. As if the moment had never even happened, Hongjoong turned his head, shifting his attention back toward the Dragon king, his expression returned to its usual unreadable, controlled state. It was a seamless transition, effortless, as though he had merely been indulging in a distraction. And yet, Seonghwa felt the aftermath of it like a snow's touch.
A breath slipped from his lips before he even realized he had been holding it. Annoyance welled inside him, as he forced himself to refocus on the gathering at hand. How had that mere glance—that look—managed to unsettle him so thoroughly? He resented the thought that the Kim Alpha forced him to act. It had been nothing. A mere exchange of glances—so why did it feel like something had shifted?
The discussion around them continued, a seamless tide of agreements and affirmations as the gathered people nodded in approval of the arrangements laid out before them. The Dragon King spoke with an air of finality, his voice deep and commanding, his presence unshakable.
“As tradition dictates,” the Dragon King declared, his voice reverberating through the grand hall, silencing any lingering murmurs, “a banquet shall be held tonight. A night of celebration, of unity, and of opportunity for all clans to engage freely with one another before the Mating Flight begins. The dining halls have been prepared, and the finest delicacies from every territory have been gathered for this grand occasion.”
A collective hum of approval swept through the crowd, some voices murmuring with interest, others with excitement. The Mating Flight was a formal affair, but the banquet preceding it—this was where true social maneuvering took place. Bonds would be made, alliances hinted at, and perhaps, for some, fates would be quietly sealed before they even took to the skies.
“Eat well, drink well, and may tonight bring forth prosperity to all.” The Dragon King lifted his goblet in a toast, and the room followed suit, the clinking of glasses filling the air like the first chime of an impending battle bell.
Seonghwa felt a heavy weight of the situation settle. He was not here to socialize. He was not here to indulge in empty pleasantries or play coy games of courtship. But, he could not deny the importance of this night. Even if he had no intention of seeking out potential mates, he understood the necessity of presence, of standing firm among his peers, of reminding the other clans exactly who he was.
The grand hall was filled with movement, a shifting sea of scales and silk as dragons from every clan dispersed following the final announcement. Some broke off into clusters, engaging in murmured conversation, while others made their way towards the long, opulent tables where food was laid out. The air thrummed with a palpable energy—excitement, anticipation, the undercurrent of competition that came with a gathering of all clans.
Seonghwa stood rigidly beside his Luna and Alpha, his body still as a statue while they engaged in conversation with other clan leaders. Wooyoung, ever the active one, tugged at his sleeve every few moments, urging him to break away, to mingle, to indulge in the festivities as everyone else was. But Seonghwa had no interest in forced pleasantries, nor did he feel particularly compelled to partake in the lavish spread of food displayed before them. He simply watched, listened, absorbed the atmosphere, his sharp eyes flickering over the hall, mapping out the layout and positioning of every important figure present.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a particular movement, one distinct even amongst the crowd of high-ranking dragons. Hongjoong was speaking with the Dragon King, his expression unreadable, and with a single, effortless flick of his wrist, he dismissed his clan members. It was such a small gesture, yet the effect was immediate. The dragons of the Kim Clan, who had been standing behind him in perfect formation, awaiting their Alpha’s command, dispersed without hesitation. No words were exchanged, no glances for confirmation were needed—just a simple motion, and they obeyed, moving with a silent efficiency.
Seonghwa turned his gaze back to the Alpha himself, only to find those piercing eyes already on him. Seonghwa could see a twitch of his lips wanting to curl in a smirk. It was only for a moment before Hongjoong finally turned his attention back to the Dragon King, his expression returning to its usual unreadable calm. But Seonghwa had seen it. He had felt it. That sharp awareness, as if Hongjoong had peeled back his outer layers in a single glance and seen something beneath.
Seonghwa exhaled, only now realizing he had been holding his breath.
Turning around, he forced himself to focus on himself. He needed space, a moment to compose himself, to clear his mind of this ridiculous notion that the Lava Alpha’s presence affected him in any way.
“I’m going to get something to eat,” Seonghwa said, his voice quiet yet firm as he inclined his head slightly toward his Luna, excusing himself from the conversation. It was not a lie—he would eat, if only to give himself an excuse to put distance between them.
He turned and stepped away, slipping seamlessly into the crowd, but not before catching one last glance in Hongjoong’s direction. He wasn’t looking at Seonghwa anymore, but that didn’t make the sensation of being watched disappear. It lingered, like phantom heat tracing the back of his neck, an invisible thread that refused to snap no matter how much distance he tried to put between them.
Seonghwa exhaled slowly, relaxing his shoulders as he scanned the bustling banquet hall for Wooyoung. He needed a distraction, something—anything—to shake the feeling away.
The moment the silver trays were uncovered, revealing the array of decadent desserts, Seonghwa knew exactly where he was going. He had never been particularly fond of stuffing himself during banquets—dinners at these events always meant heavy meats, rich sauces, and excessive portions that he never had much appetite for. But desserts? Those were different. They were designed to melt on the tongue and evoke pleasure in ways that even the most savory dish could not.
Seonghwa moved with quiet grace, ignoring the many eyes that flickered toward him as he made his way toward the dessert table. He was aware of the murmurs, of the subtle attempts from various dragons to capture his attention—polite nods, lingering glances, feigned movements as if they just so happened to be heading in the same direction as him. But he had no interest in idle conversation or flattery. His focus was on the pristine selection of sweets displayed before him, each looking more delectable than the other.
A waiter approached him with a knowing smile, handing him a delicate slice of cake layered with what looked like a luscious berry compote and light cream. Seonghwa accepted it without hesitation, lifting the fork to his lips and taking the first bite.
The moment the dessert touched his tongue, his world stilled.
The explosion of flavors was near euphoric. The soft, airy sponge melded perfectly with the tart sweetness of the berries, the cream balancing it all with its velvety texture. It was delicious. So good that he savoured every moment as the flavors dissolved on his tongue, leaving him with the immediate craving for more. His fingers twitched against the plate, already itching to signal for another piece before he even finished this one.
When he swallowed, he let out a slow exhale, tilting his head slightly as he turned toward the baker standing nearby. “This is exceptional,” he murmured, his voice smooth but appreciative. “Prepare another for me. I’ll be done with this soon.”
The baker beamed under the rare praise, bowing slightly before hurrying off to fulfill the request. Seonghwa, content with his choice, lifted another forkful of the dessert, letting his gaze drift over the crowd as he enjoyed his moment of indulgence.
That was when he saw it.
Wooyoung, perched by a table on the far side of the banquet hall, leaning just slightly—too eagerly—toward a dragon Seonghwa immediately recognized as one of the Kim Clan members.
Seonghwa’s chewing slowed, eyes narrowing just the slightest as he observed the interaction. The dragon in question was massive, even compared to their own clan alpha. Broad-shouldered, thickly muscled, and towering over Wooyoung in a way that should have been imposing but clearly wasn’t, given the way Wooyoung was practically draped over his arm.
It was obvious. The way Wooyoung laughed, tossing his head back with exaggerated delight at whatever the dragon was saying. The way his hands—always so expressive—kept drifting to brush against the man’s forearm, then his bicep, fingers lingering just a second too long to be innocent. Seonghwa could read Wooyoung like an open book, and right now, that book screamed one thing:
Swooned.
Hopelessly, ridiculously, utterly swooned by the sheer handsomeness and strength of the dragon before him.
Seonghwa sighed, his expression settling into one of mild exasperation as he took another bite of his cake. Wooyoung was too easily swayed by looks alone. He had always been like this—always dazzled by power and appearance, so easily impressed by a well-structured physique and a smooth voice.
Yet, Seonghwa couldn’t fully fault him either. He could see why Wooyoung was taken in. But still, it was foolish to get swept away so easily. Seonghwa shook his head slightly, amused despite himself. He would let Wooyoung have his fun. But he would also be keeping an eye on him.
For now, though, he would finish his cake. He had more important things to indulge in.
Without so much as glancing back, Seonghwa reached behind him, his fingers automatically grasping the porcelain plate that had been set aside for him, bringing it forward with ease. His focus remained on Wooyoung, whose laughter was carried over the clinking of silverware and the low murmur of conversation. Seonghwa found himself narrowing his eyes at his friend’s ridiculous display of infatuation, but before he could roll his eyes and eat the dessert waiting in his grasp, a voice interrupted him—low, smooth, and terribly close—curled into his ear.
"I don’t like sharing, beautiful."
The suddenness of the voice made Seonghwa flinch, just the barest twitch of his shoulders, but he masked his startle almost immediately, turning his head to find himself face-to-face with none other than the Kim clan Alpha. The very same Alpha whose gaze had bore into his skin from across the hall earlier, whose presence had made Seonghwa’s instincts go on alert.
Now, up close, the intensity was only worse. Hongjoong stood there, amusement glinting in his dark eyes, lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but close. He exuded a certain confidence, an effortless dominance that was woven into the way he held himself. It was frustratingly natural, as if he had long since accepted that he commanded attention wherever he went.
The audacity.
Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, shoulders instinctively squaring as he met the Alpha’s heated gaze head-on. “Excuse me?” he asked, voice carefully poised between curiosity and cold dismissal, though he had an inkling that neither would deter this man.
The Alpha was barely an inch or two shorter than him, but somehow carried himself like a man who stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the room. His presence alone unsettled Seonghwa, not because he was intimidated, but because he could feel that arrogant confidence creeping into his skin, attempting to unnerve him.
The Alpha didn’t falter at Seonghwa’s sharp tone. If anything, he looked even more entertained. “My dessert,” Hongjoong drawled, nodding toward the plate in Seonghwa’s hand. “You’re eating it.”
Seonghwa frowned, glancing down at the plate. Only then did he notice it—the half-eaten dessert. The delicate fork marks already pressed into the layers of sweet indulgence, the clear sign that someone had already started eating before he’d claimed it for himself. His eyes snapped back up to the Alpha, whose expression remained maddeningly smug, as if he found this entire thing amusing.
Heat curled to Seonghwa's cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from irritation. He refused to look flustered. Refused to let this Alpha think he’d caught him off guard. If Hongjoong expected him to fumble, to stammer out an apology, he had another thing coming. Instead, Seonghwa’s grip on the plate remained firm, his expression perfectly poised as he gave the Alpha a once-over.
He looked back up, only to be greeted with the same smirk, a silent challenge flickering behind those eyes. The Alpha extended his hand toward him, palm open, fingers beckoning, waiting for Seonghwa to surrender the plate back to him.
Seonghwa barely kept his composure as he handed the plate back, his fingers twitching with the urge to slam it into the arrogant Alpha instead. He exhaled sharply through his nose, turning away without a word, and looked back at the baker.
“Another,” he said, his tone clipped, his irritation barely masked. The baker, caught between the tension of the two dragons, quickly placed another dessert onto a fresh plate, his wary eyes darting back and forth between them as though afraid to witness whatever might unfold next.
Seonghwa grasped the plate without a glance toward the Alpha beside him, his fingers tightening around the utensil as he shoveled a bite into his mouth, determined to act as if he were eating alone. He had hoped, foolishly, that if he ignored him long enough, the Alpha would simply get bored and irritate someone else. But no.
He forced himself to focus elsewhere, eyes scanning the banquet hall until they landed on Wooyoung, still engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with that Kim clan dragon. Seonghwa inwardly hit his friend for taking so long. If Wooyoung would just hurry up, then at least he wouldn’t have to stand here, alone in the presence of this unsettling Alpha.
“They look good together, don’t they?” The deep voice slid into his ears like a blade, cutting through his thoughts. Seonghwa’s chewing slowed, his jaw tightening at the unsolicited remark. His hold on the spoon tightened as he swallowed, and without thinking, he responded before he could stop himself. “As if it’s that easy to woo an Ice Clan dragon.”
The words had barely left his lips before he regretted them. He had meant to ignore him, to pretend he didn’t exist. Yet here he was, engaging, letting his distaste get the better of him. A dangerous game, one he didn’t intend to play. But the smirk curling on the Alpha’s lips told him he had already won this round.
“Oh?” The Alpha hummed, his amusement palpable. “Looks to me like San is doing a great job, considering how that Ice dragon is practically throwing himself at him.”
Seonghwa’s nostrils flared as he willed himself not to react, not to let the Alpha know that his words had struck something in him. It wasn’t about Wooyoung—no, Wooyoung could handle himself, and Seonghwa couldn’t care less who he flirted with—but it was the audacity of this man, the taunting lilt in his voice He inhaled deeply, forcing a slow, sweet smile onto his face as he turned to face the Alpha directly.
With every ounce of condescension he could muster, he said, “The Dragon King advised us all not to create a scene at the banquet, so I would suggest you shut your trap before I do it for you.”
The Alpha’s smirk widened, as if thoroughly entertained.
Seonghwa knew the alpha would have some kind of retort, some clever comeback to poke at him again, but instead, the infuriating man merely grinned, wide and sharp, mischief dancing in his molten eyes like flickering embers. "So you do talk," he mused, teeth glinting under the lights of the banquet hall, his expression unreadable yet smug.
Seonghwa clenched his jaw, biting the inside of his cheek, seething at the blatant mockery in the alpha’s tone. His fingers twitched around the delicate porcelain plate in his hands, but he forced himself to remain composed, letting the irritation simmer. He would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he's getting to him.
So instead, he leveled the alpha with an unimpressed stare and stated flatly, "I do not want to talk to you." The words were meant to be dismissive, to sever whatever strange, unwanted connection had sparked between them, but Hongjoong merely tilted his head, amusement never wavering.
"I'm Hongjoong," the alpha said casually, as if Seonghwa hadn’t just made his feelings very clear. He extended his hand between them, palm open, waiting. Seonghwa merely glanced at it before pointedly turning his attention back to his dessert, refusing to acknowledge the gesture. "I'm aware," he muttered, shoving another spoonful of the rich, decadent cake into his mouth, as though that would somehow make the alpha disappear. But of course, Hongjoong was not so easily deterred.
"Not gonna give me your name either?" Hongjoong mused, retracting his hand as smoothly as if he had never expected Seonghwa to take it in the first place. That same smirk lingered on his lips, infuriatingly self-assured.
Seonghwa didn't respond, merely focused on finishing his dessert as quickly as possible so he could leave this suffocating presence behind. But just as he thought he was in the clear, Hongjoong set his own plate down and turned on his heel, throwing a look over his shoulder.
"See you tomorrow, Seonghwa."
Seonghwa froze, spoon halfway to his lips, his entire body erupted with goosebumps at the sound of his name leaving the alpha’s mouth. A shiver went down his spine. He hadn’t told him his name. He was certain of it. So how—?
His hold on the spoon tightened as he took slow, steady breaths through parted lips, trying to suppress the sudden wave of unease prickling at his skin. His eyes followed Hongjoong’s retreating figure, the alpha effortlessly weaving through the mingling crowd, all charm and ease as he struck up conversation with another clan leader.
Seonghwa swallowed hard, suddenly feeling too much under the weight of this realization. He didn’t like this—this feeling of being watched, studied, known before he had even had the chance to defend himself. Confusion twisted uncomfortably in his gut, mingling with something far more treacherous. Clenching his jaw he finished his dessert quickly. Whatever game Hongjoong was playing, Seonghwa would not let himself be a pawn in it. Determined, he set his empty plate aside and turned on his heel, seeking out Wooyoung amidst the crowd. He needed answers. Now.
Little did Seonghwa know, Hongjoong had already grown familiar with him before they had even exchanged words. It was through his own clan member, San, who had been chatting away with Wooyoung—Seonghwa’s closest friend—that Hongjoong had first learned about him. It was only a simple inquiry, a casual question woven into the flow of conversation, but the moment San mentioned Seonghwa’s name, something in Hongjoong sharpened, his instincts going haywire.
From the moment Hongjoong stepped into the grand banquet hall, his senses sharpened like a predator scanning for its prey. The flickering golden glow of chandeliers reflected off the polished marble floors, the mingling scents of various dragon clans thick in the air, and the hum of conversations followed by laughter and clinking glasses. And all of it faded into the background the instant his gaze locked onto him.
Seonghwa.
Standing across the room, Hongjoong could only think that the name did him no justice.
Seonghwa stood like a sculpture carved from ice, untouched by the heat of the gathering amidst the sea of dragons indulging in revelry. He had an air of quiet regality, something unshakable and cold, as if the world around him was of no consequence. His sharp eyes moved through the crowd with calculating precision, only briefly softening when he looked at his friend, Wooyoung. Even in a room full of boisterous voices and drunken laughter, Seonghwa carried himself with an air of quiet supremacy, like he had no need to prove himself to anyone.
In the span of that single moment he had studied everything: the elegant cut of his attire, the way his silver hair accentuated his sharp features, the way his toned frame was subtly defined beneath the layers of fine fabric before as he stood by his Luna.
Moments ago also before approaching to talk to him Hongjoong watched the delicate flick of Seonghwa’s fingers as he lifted a dessert fork to his lips, the slight parting of them as he took a bite. His throat bobbed ever so slightly as he swallowed, and something dark and possessive coiled low in Hongjoong’s stomach.
Hongjoong had seen beauty before—countless dragons who thought they could entice him with fluttering lashes and sweet words—but none had ever ignited the fire inside him the way Seonghwa did with just a single glance. It was infuriating and exhilarating all at once.
A hunter always knew the moment they spotted their prey. And Hongjoong? He had already set his sights on the Ice Clan’s most untouchable treasure.
As Hongjoong moved back toward his clan, his posture relaxed yet exuding absolute authority, San fell into step beside him, grinning knowingly. “So?” San asked, nudging Hongjoong’s arm. “How did it go, with Seonghwa?”
Hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned his head just enough to catch sight of Seonghwa once more, watching as the ice dragon spoke with Wooyoung, his lips moving, his expression controlled, but his body portraying the tension still lingering from their brief encounter. Hongjoong’s own smirk deepened.
“Address him as your Luna,” he said, voice low and sure, as if it was not a statement of intent, but a foregone conclusion.
San let out a low whistle, his eyes flickering with intrigue as he followed Hongjoong’s gaze back to where Seonghwa was now standing beside Wooyoung, oblivious to the way he was being analyzed like a puzzle waiting to be unraveled.
Hongjoong licked his lips, the anticipation running through him, burning hot like lava that flows inside him. His gaze still on Seonghwa, observing the way he held himself. But Hongjoong knew better. He had seen the flicker of unease in Seonghwa’s eyes when he had spoken to him, and had felt the way his presence had caused a shift in the ice dragon’s carefully constructed walls. And that was enough. Enough to tell him that the cold Seonghwa wrapped himself in could be melted, that he could be warmed and reshaped under his touch.
“I’m going to make him mine,” Hongjoong lips curled to a dangerous smirk as he said those words as a promise to himself.
The clan members who overheard exchanged knowing glances, already taking pride in the idea of having Seonghwa as their Luna. And why wouldn’t they? He was powerful in his own right, a force of ice and elegance unwavering in a way that deserved respect.
Hongjoong had chosen Seonghwa the moment their eyes met across the grand table. That brief collision of gazes was all it took—the ice in Seonghwa’s glare, the unspoken defiance, the silent challenge daring him to step closer. And now, there was no turning back. The lava inside him churned, hungry for the inevitable chase, for the thrill of the hunt.
Hongjoong had never been one to deny himself what he wanted. And he wanted Seonghwa.
He could hardly wait to begin the game.
Seonghwa has had enough. He slammed his palm down onto the table, making Wooyoung jolt mid-sentence. “Would you listen to me?” he snapped, his sharp glare cutting through his friend’s endless ramblings about San. For the past five minutes, Wooyoung had done nothing but gush about the other dragon, going on and on about his charm, his skill, the way he fought, the way he smiled. Seonghwa had had enough. He didn’t come here to listen to Wooyoung swoon over some dragon. He came for answers—answers that, deep down, he already knew.
Wooyoung was a blabbermouth. If Hongjoong knew Seonghwa’s name, it was because Wooyoung had let it slip to San. And if San knew, then the entire Kim Clan likely did. That realization left a bitter taste in Seonghwa’s mouth, but before he could press Wooyoung further, a burst of laughter erupted from behind them, loud and mocking. It wasn’t the kind of laughter shared between allies or friends—it was cruel and jeering. Seonghwa turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of a group of dragons from a rival clan, their amusement directed not just at the Kim Clan, but at Hongjoong himself.
“What do you even know about real fights or real flights with a leader as small as your Alpha?” one of them jeered, smirking as his clan mates cackled in agreement.
Seonghwa’s brows furrowed slightly. His gaze flickered toward Hongjoong, who remained seated, seemingly unbothered. But his clan was another story. They bristled instantly, their instincts flaring hot as snarls erupted from their throats, their frames tensing as if ready to launch into battle at a moment’s notice. The very air around them thickened with heat of their barely restrained anger. It was instinctual, the urge to tear those who dared to insult their Alpha.
The tension crackled like embers threatening to ignite, but before a single step could be taken, Hongjoong raised a single hand.
Just one hand.
The effect was immediate. His clan members stilled, their obedience absolute to the dominance he held over his clan. Like a dam forcibly containing a raging river. That alone was telling—he hadn’t needed to bark an order, hadn’t needed to growl or glare. A simple, effortless motion, and his warriors fell back, silent, waiting.
Hongjoong rose to his feet slowly, deliberately, his expression unreadable. He tilted his head ever so slightly, like a predator assessing whether or not its prey was even worth the effort.
“Take that statement back. Apologize.” he said, voice deceptively calm. It was the kind of calm that made the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand up.
Seonghwa’s gaze flickered back to the offending dragons, who were still laughing, emboldened by Hongjoong’s lack of immediate retaliation. One of them leaned forward, arms slung over his friend, an arrogant smirk playing at his lips. “Oh? Did that bother you? That your clan is just as small as your height?” The words were drenched in ridicule, thrown out before the entire banquet without hesitation.
The moment the words left his lips, the tension shifted. Seonghwa, who had no fondness for Hongjoong nor his arrogance, found himself grimacing at the brazen audacity of the insult. That was no minor slight.
Insulting an Alpha was one thing. It was reckless, but it could be brushed off, turned into a game of power. A challenge issued between individuals. But to insult an Alpha’s clan—his people, his legacy, the very foundation upon which his strength stood—directly in front of him, with every attending dragon as witness, was a transgression of an entirely different magnitude.
It was not just a slight against Hongjoong. It was a spit in the face of every warrior who carried his mark, every member who bore his protection. It was a challenge not to him alone, but to his rule, his very right to lead. No Alpha, no matter how composed, how restrained, could let such an insult stand without consequence. And to do that in front of every attending dragon, in a setting where respect and power dynamics were everything, was a blatant challenge. His eyes flickered back to Hongjoong, but what he saw made his breath still in his throat.
Hongjoong hadn’t moved an inch. His expression remained eerily neutral, almost as if he hadn’t even heard the insult.
What caught Seonghwa’s attention most, however, wasn’t Hongjoong himself. It was the reaction from his own people.
They stepped back.
Not a flinch, not a shift in weight, not a subtle shuffle of feet. No, this was intentional. They moved away from him, their shoulders tensing—but not in preparation to fight. This wasn’t the instinctive reaction of warriors readying themselves for battle. They weren’t creating space to charge.
They were creating distance.
And that changed everything.
Because distance wasn’t a sign of unity. Distance wasn’t a show of strength. Distance was fear.
Seonghwa’s sharp gaze flickered between them, realization creeping in like ice beneath his skin. They had stepped back not because they doubted Hongjoong’s ability to defend himself—but because they knew what was coming.
The first sign was the windows. They rattled violently in their frames, the glass panes shuddering as though trying to escape the storm that had yet to break. The trembling moved outward, rolling through the walls, shaking the chandeliers above until the crystals clinked like wind chimes caught in a hurricane. The very floor beneath them quivered, as if the stone itself feared what was about to unfold. It felt like an earthquake—but there had been no warning, no shift in the air, no external cause.
Wooyoung’s hold on Seonghwa’s wrist tightened, a silent plea, a wordless urge to step back, to move, to do anything but remain standing in the presence of the force that was unraveling before them. But Seonghwa couldn’t move. He was frozen in place, transfixed, watching with wide eyes as the very air around Hongjoong seemed to distort, something that boiled with a fury too immense to be contained.
And then came the sound.
A low, guttural rumble, so deep it seemed to shake the soul of the people in his presence. It wasn’t a growl—not something that could be replicated by mere human vocal cords. No, this was monstrous. It rolled out of Hongjoong like the first warning of a storm, like the earth cracking open to release the fury present deep within.
It was terrifying.
Seonghwa felt the pressure on him, like something clawed at him, demanding to be acknowledged. This wasn’t just power. It was a rage incarnate. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the fools who had laughed at Hongjoong’s clan had made a huge mistake.
Wooyoung yanked at his wrist again, harder this time. “Seonghwa,” he hissed, trying to drag him back, to pull him out of the radius of whatever was about to unfold. But Seonghwa barely heard him. He was too caught up in what he was witnessing.
And then—Hongjoong stepped forward.
The moment his foot touched the floor, a visible shockwave went through the stone. Plates trembled on the tables, goblets nearly toppled, and the heat in the room spiked as if an invisible inferno had been awakened.
But before Hongjoong could take another step, a firm hand clamped onto his shoulder.
“Enough.”
The voice was calm, but it carried an authority that could not be ignored. The Dragon king stood in his path, meeting Hongjoong’s burning gaze without flinching. And still, Hongjoong didn’t look at him, his gaze fixed on the fools who had dared to insult his clan. The King’s expression darkened. With a firm, steady hand, he reached out, gripping Hongjoong by the shoulder, forcing the Alpha to turn and meet his eyes.
“Control yourself.” The King's was firm, unwavering. A command, not a request.
For a moment, it seemed as though Hongjoong might resist. His shoulders rose and fell with each measured breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. The immense force rolling off of him was suffocating, thick with barely restrained violence. His people stood tensely behind him, awaiting his next move, knowing full well that stopping him by force would be impossible.
But then, Hongjoong exhaled, slow and sharp through his nose. His fingers uncurled—just slightly—but the fire in his eyes did not wane. He did not submit. But he did step back.
The Dragon King gave a curt nod before turning to Hongjoong’s people. His command was simple. “Take him outside. Now.”
Slowly, cautiously, Hongjoong’s own clan members approached, their movements careful, hands steady as they guided him away from the banquet hall before the flames of his rage could consume everything in their path. Even as they led him toward the grand doors, he did not look away from the dragons who had insulted his clan, his gaze a silent promise. A warning.
Only when he reached the threshold did he pulled his gaze away, exhaling harshly as he allowed himself to be led outside. His anger had not faded—it churned beneath his skin, restless and seething, waiting for the moment he would be free to release it. But for now, for the sake of his people, for the sake of the Dragon King’s order, he relented.
The tension in the banquet hall did not dissipate even after Hongjoong and his people had left. The air remained thick, charged with the remnants of his fury, as if the walls themselves still trembled in the aftermath of his restrained wrath. No one dared to speak, their eyes flitting between each other, between the grand doors where the Alpha had walked out and the Dragon King, who now turned his slow, measured gaze toward the offending clan.
"Step forward," the King commanded, his voice echoing through the vast chamber like a blade scraping against stone.
The room was silent. No one so much as shifted in their seats. The clan in question hesitated, but their Alpha, knowing refusal was not an option, finally rose. He was a broad, grizzled dragon with a powerful stance, yet in the face of the Dragon King’s stare, even he looked diminished.
"Your people have insulted not just an Alpha but his entire clan," the King continued, his tone unreadable, though the weight behind it was too much.
"Insolence, arrogance—I have seen it before. But never so brazenly, in the middle of my own domain, in the presence of every attending dragon. Your members have disrespected the sanctity of this gathering, of our traditions, of the laws that govern us all."
The said Alpha clenched his fists, his lips pressing into a thin line looking over the offending dragons of his own clans.
"The offenders from your clan will not be permitted to remain within these halls a moment longer," the King declared, his voice carrying a finality that left no room for argument. "Gather them and make them leave. They are banished from this castle, and from your own clan. Let this be a lesson to all who think to bring shame upon our kind. Disrespect will not be tolerated within these walls."
The words fell heavy, unrelenting, sealing the fate of the offending clan as a ripple of reactions spread through the hall. Some gasped, others merely bowed their heads in silent agreement. This was justice. This was power.
The said Alpha inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as if he wished to challenge the ruling—but one look at the Dragon King’s cold, unyielding gaze, and he knew better. Swallowing the pride that still clung to him, he gave a curt nod. He turned on his heel, his movements stiff with barely restrained anger, before motioning for the members to rise. They did so without question, their faces set in quiet shame as they followed him out, each footstep echoing like a nail sealing their fate.
The grand doors groaned as they were pulled open, revealing the night beyond. And just like that, the clan members were thrown out.
It was only after their exit that the entire hall seemed to exhale. Conversations started up again, hushed at first, but quickly grew as the tension began to ease. Servants hurried to refill goblets and replace the overturned dishes, eager to restore the elegance of the gathering. The Dragon King remained standing, his presence alone keeping the room in check.
"Let this be a warning," he spoke again, his deep voice reclaiming the hall. "This is what awaits those who bring dishonor into my domain. Our traditions are sacred. Disrespect them, and you shall not be welcomed among us."
A collective nod swept through the banquet, murmurs of agreement rolling through the tables. Amidst the returning normalcy, amidst the clinking of goblets and the forced laughter of those trying to ease the tension, Seonghwa found himself scanning the hall. His gaze trailed over the faces of nobles and warriors, of dragons vying for attention, but nowhere—nowhere—did he see Hongjoong or his people.
His mind swirled with something he couldn't quite name. Had they left? Had the humiliation been too great? Would they truly back out of the mating flight ritual after the insult thrown at them?
As the night deepened, dragons began retreating to their assigned quarters, eager to rest and rejuvenate before the impending mating flights. The air buzzed with excitement, whispers and hushed giggles filling the corridors as males and females alike reveled in anticipation of the upcoming mating flights. Some had already chosen their potential mates, their eyes lingering on each other with unspoken promises, their laughter soft and full of the electric charge of impending unions.
Seonghwa walked past them without much thought, though he caught the irritated grumbling of his friend, Wooyoung, who walked beside him, arms crossed and face twisted in a sour expression.
“Can you believe that? How could they be so tactless? To challenge a clan’s strength is one thing, but to mock them in their own presence, in front of the Dragon King himself? Absolutely disgraceful,” Wooyoung scoffed, his irritation making him all the more animated as he walked toward the quarters assigned.
His displeasure only grew as he lamented over his stolen time, grumbling about how he hadn’t even been able to properly kiss San before he was forced to go deal with the aftermath of that reckless insult. But Seonghwa barely heard him.
He couldn’t focus on anything except the sight of Hongjoong standing in the middle of the banquet hall, rumbling like an oncoming storm. That sound—no, that feeling—had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. The way his entire body shook, the way his breath had caught in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Then there was the heat.
Seonghwa’s people were immune to fire, unaffected by the flickering embers or scorching flames that could reduce the entire village to dust. The icy nature of his being ensured that. His clan thrived in frost, breathed ice, existed in a world where warmth was something foreign, and distant, something that melted away before it could ever reach them.
Even so when Hongjoong rumbled, the entire castle had been bathed in the heat so intense, so consuming, that for the first time in his life, Seonghwa had felt heat sink into his skin, wrapping around him like an embrace he hadn’t known he craved.
It was not the blistering touch of fire, nor the suffocating scorch that others around him seemed to suffer under.
Warmth.
A deep, encompassing warmth that curled around him, seeped into his skin. While the others whined and fanned themselves, groaning about the heat. Seonghwa felt nothing of the sort. He glanced at Wooyoung, watching the way sweat dampened his brow, the way he tugged at his collar, visibly uncomfortable. And yet, Seonghwa remained untouched by that same intensity.
It was as if the heat had chosen to push away from him, to pour itself onto everyone else—louder, harsher—while leaving him wrapped in something far gentler. Like it knew him. Like it had always been meant for him.
He had wanted—just for a moment—to move closer. To close the space between them and see if that warmth would settle under his skin, if it would remain or if it would dissipate the moment he touched him. Would Hongjoong’s body feel just as warm against his own? Would the heat of his breath send shivers down his spine? The thoughts unsettled him, made his fingers twitch at his sides, made his breath unsteady.
But they were nothing more than fleeting fantasies, illusions crafted in the moment of an unexpected reaction. Because it didn’t matter now. It didn’t matter how powerful Hongjoong had looked, how unshaken he had been despite the blatant insult thrown at him and his people. None of it mattered because the Kim clan had withdrawn from the mating flight rituals.
That should have been the end of it. He should have pushed the memory beneath the obligation he had to fulfill. The mating flight ritual would go on and Seonghwa would have to prepare himself for what was to come. He would have to steal his mind and sharpen his instincts because, regardless of the circumstances, the chase was inevitable.
Seonghwa would not make it easy for anyone. If he was to be pursued, if he was to be claimed, then whoever dared to come for him would have to be worthy of him. Yet, despite his resolve, despite his determination to push past it, a part of him—small but insistent—couldn’t stop wondering.
Would Hongjoong have chased him?
The next day
The sun filtered through the grand windows of the castle, casting golden streaks across the polished marble floors. The scent of fresh dew and lingering embers from the previous night’s torches still clung to the air, mixing with the rich aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread wafting from the dining hall. The entire castle buzzed with an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation—today was the day of the mating flights.
Seonghwa ran a towel over his damp hair, his mind oddly quiet despite the chaotic energy around him. He had bathed, scrubbed off the remnants of sleep, but none of it washed away the sensation that still clung to his skin from last night. He could still feel it—that warmth. That impossible, foreign warmth that had seeped into his very being and refused to leave. It lingered like an imprint, a brand pressed into his flesh by something far more powerful than mere heat.
Wooyoung and Seonghwa had dressed in the traditional ceremonial robes, draped over their shoulders in a manner that both accentuated their status and marked them as participants in the mating flight. Though the fabric was light, the weight of what it represented bore down on Seonghwa like a stone. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve as they made their way toward the hall.
The grand hall was abuzz with hushed murmurs as everyone was gathered for breakfast. Seonghwa’s steps slowed when he caught sight of the head table, where his Luna and Alpha sat with the Dragon King. They looked regal as ever. As he and Wooyoung approached, he inclined his head in respectful greeting before taking his seat.
His Luna responded softly, a knowing look flickering in her eyes as she gestured toward the empty seats beside them. “Come, eat. You’ll need your strength.”
Seonghwa nodded, silently taking his place. The plates before them adorned with an array of delicacies meant to fuel them for what was to come. Despite the sumptuous spread, his appetite remained absent. His fingers tightened around the goblet of water before him, and he willed himself to drink.
His Luna’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Are you ready?” she asked, her tone gentle, though her gaze searched his face for an honest answer.
Ready?
Truthfully, no. He wasn’t. He has never wanted this. Not this way. Not when his mind had been ensnared by something—or rather, someone. The image of a certain dragon haunted him even now, burned into his mind like an ember that refused to extinguish. He could still feel it—the overwhelming presence, the way his very being had responded to him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.
And yet, he had no choice.
So, he forced his lips to curve into a polite, practiced smile and responded, “Yes.”
The clan Luna held his gaze a second longer before shifting her attention to Wooyoung, whose face twisted into an unmistakable scowl.
“And you?” she asked.
Wooyoung exhaled sharply, dragging his fork through the untouched food on his plate. “I would be if I knew San would be here,” he muttered bitterly. His irritation was palpable, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table. “But I don’t see him anywhere.”
Even before they had left their quarters, Wooyoung had been restless. He had asked—no, demanded—to know if San would be present at the ceremony.
“Is he going to be there or not?” Wooyoung had asked, his tone sharp with frustration.
Seonghwa, with the same weariness that had settled over him since last night, had only been able to reply with a tired, “I don’t know, Woo.”
It wasn’t the answer Wooyoung had wanted. It wasn’t the answer he needed. But it was the truth. And despite Seonghwa’s personal aversion to other dragons, despite his coldness toward their traditions, he wanted Wooyoung to be happy. If San was the one who brought him that happiness, then so be it.
He wouldn’t stand in the way of that.
They spoke quietly amongst themselves, the low murmurs of conversation surrounding them like an ever-present hum. But it all came to a halt when the Dragon King stood, his imposing presence commanding immediate silence.
“All participants,” his voice rang out, echoing against the high stone walls, “the mating flights shall commence in half an hour.”
The words settled over them like an unspoken decree, final and absolute. There was no turning back now.
Seonghwa inhaled deeply, steadying himself. He would push aside his thoughts.Instead, he would prepare himself for what was to come—to fight, to run, to evade those who sought to claim him.
Seonghwa placed his utensils down, the clink of metal against porcelain sounding much louder in his ears than it should have. Breakfast had been a tasteless affair, his mind too preoccupied to savor the meal. He wiped his mouth before glancing toward Wooyoung, who had barely touched his food, shifting in his seat. He knew exactly why. He could feel the frustration radiating from his friend like an open flame, simmering hotter and hotter as the seconds ticked by.
“Do you want to go outside for some fresh air?” Seonghwa finally asked, his voice smooth and filled with care for his friend.
Wooyoung hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah… maybe that’ll help.” His tone was flat, but his hands were clenched tightly in his lap, fingers curling into fists before he exhaled and stood.
They walked outside, the air crisp and cool, contrasting sharply against the lingering warmth from within the castle. The open courtyard was filled with people stretching, preparing for the flights ahead, conversing in hushed whispers about the events of the previous night. It was a strange thing—standing amongst all this excitement while feeling nothing but an oppressive weight pressing down on him.
But before Seonghwa could even fully take in his surroundings, Wooyoung suddenly broke into a sprint.
Seonghwa startled, instinctively took a step forward, his gaze following the direction of Wooyoung’s sudden movement.
And then, he saw him.
San.
A blur of dark hair and fierce eyes, standing with an air of confidence that was impossible to ignore. And Wooyoung—oh, Wooyoung had no hesitation. He ran straight into his arms, jumping onto him as though the immense force of his longing had snapped his restraint.
Seonghwa watched as San caught him effortlessly, a low chuckle rumbling from him as he pulled Wooyoung even closer, arms tightening around his waist like he had no plans of letting go.
Seonghwa felt something deep within him soften at the sight.
He had no great love for dragons, no desire to entangle himself in the foolish romanticism of their kind—but even he couldn’t deny the raw tenderness in that embrace. It was rare to see Wooyoung, so vibrant and chaotic, melt into someone so completely. It was rare to see him this vulnerable.
A quiet, involuntary smile ghosted over Seonghwa’s lips, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Because then, the realization hit him. If San was here…
Surely, he would be too.
His throat went dry, his fingers twitching at his sides as his sharp eyes darted across the courtyard, searching. But no matter how many faces he skimmed over, how many familiar figures he spotted, he couldn't see who he wanted to see. He shouldn’t have cared. He shouldn’t have even been looking. And yet, the disappointment twisted through him like a cruel joke.
Straightening his shoulders, he forced the feeling down, locking it away beneath layers of icy indifference. This wasn’t the time for distractions.
A low murmur of voices caught his attention, dragging him from his thoughts.
A group of dragons stood nearby, their gazes flickering toward him with barely concealed curiosity. They whispered among themselves, their expressions unreadable, their words too hushed for him to decipher—but Seonghwa could feel their scrutiny like a weight on his skin.
He huffed, rolling his eyes as he turned his gaze forward once more, choosing to ignore them entirely. Whatever nonsense they were gossiping about, it didn’t concern him. He had more important matters to attend to.
The courtyard fell silent as the Dragon King came into view, the weight of his authority pressing down on every creature present. His golden eyes, sharp as the finest steel, swept across the assembled dragons, lingering on each face as if committing them to memory. Then, with a voice that echoed like a rolling storm, he spoke.
"The time has come!" His words rumbled through the hall, filled with the kind of power that sent shivers down spines. "Today, the sky will bear witness to the strength of our kind. The flames of our ancestors burn within us, and now, it is time for those worthy to prove themselves."
Murmurs rippled through the gathered dragons, but the king was not finished.
"This is no mere flight. This is a challenge of instinct, power, and will. For those who seek a mate, let your strength be known. For those who stand in challenge, may your wings carry you true. But above all—remember! This flight is sacred. Respect its purpose, or you shall find yourself unworthy of our skies."
A heavy silence settled over the hall, thick with anticipation. Then, one by one, the dragons stepped forward, lining up in formation. The ground trembled under their collective power, the air electric with the promise of what was to come.
Seonghwa found himself stepping forward as well, muscles tensed, senses sharp. The energy in the air was intoxicating, pulling him in, urging him to spread his wings. Yet, even as he prepared, his gaze flickered to the crowd, searching.
Then, the signal came.
A deafening roar split the sky, and the world erupted into motion. The dragons shifted, their human forms melting away as scales took their place, growing into their true, magnificent selves. The air filled with the sound of wings snapping open, mighty and vast, their beats stirring the wind into chaos.
Seonghwa exhaled, and then it happened.
His pale skin began to transform, shifting into scales so white they shimmered like ice in the sunlight. Massive, elegant wings unfurled from his back, a thing of beauty and strength, as intricate as the frozen rivers of the north. His horns, long and crystalline, gleamed under the sun’s watchful gaze. His claws flexed, razor-sharp, his tail lashing once before curling behind him in a display of control.
He was a vision—an ethereal specter of winter’s wrath, breathtaking yet unforgiving.
All around him, dragons surged into the sky, their roars creating a song of challenge and triumph. Seonghwa stood for just a moment longer, wings quivering, the air whispering against his scales. And then, with a mighty push, he launched himself into the sky.
The wind howled around him as he took flight, his massive wings slicing through the air, each flap carrying him higher, further, faster. Below, the earth shrank, nothing but a blur of white and stone as the sky became his domain.
With a deep exhale, he faced forward again, wings stretching to their full span as he prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead. The flight had begun.
And Seonghwa would not falter.
Dragons spiraled through the vast sky, their mighty wings carving through the crisp air with power and precision. Lustrous scales glinted beneath the pale sun, reflecting an iridescent spectrum of blues, golds, and crimsons—each dragon vying for attention, each movement a declaration of strength, desire, and dominance. The skies trembled with the weight of their presence, a battlefield of passion and instinct.
Seonghwa, however, had no interest in engaging in the fervor that overtook his kind. All he had to do was bide his time, maneuver skillfully enough to avoid unwanted attention, and endure until the flights concluded. A task easier said than done, for the sky was a sea of whirling bodies, wings clashing, tails entwining in fleeting displays of affection or in brutal contests of will.
His keen eyes scanned the skies, flickering over the chaos, until they settled upon two familiar figures. Wooyoung and San, their lithe forms twisting gracefully, tails curling around one another in an unmistakable show of unity. They had chosen each other without hesitation, locked in a dance that spoke of harmony and certainty. A rare sight amidst the usual tumult of the flights, where battles erupted over coveted mates, the roars of combatants shaking the very air.
Seonghwa ignored these skirmishes with practiced indifference. It was not his concern who won or lost, who claimed who. The game was beneath him.
What did concern him, however, was when the chaos turned its gaze upon him.
The shift was subtle. A challenge hurled through the wind, a gust of aggression slicing through the cold air, aimed directly at him. He barely had time to register the threat before he was moving, wings tucking in for a brief moment before he twisted effortlessly, evading with the ease of one who had long since perfected the art of avoiding entanglements.
Seonghwa was no fool. He had trained for years, sculpting his body into a weapon, honed to perfection, a force of nature wrapped in steel-hard scales and sheer, unrelenting will. He moved with grace, an agility that made him a living contradiction—massive, yet swift; powerful, yet precise. Every flap of his wings was calculated, every shift of his weight intentional.
Despite his dominance, they dared to challenge him.
He had noticed them before. The whispers. The sidelong glances. The way lesser dragons spoke his name in hushed tones, their voices filled with envy and dark intent. And now, as he soared above the clouds, that same group had taken flight, their collective presence forming a shadow that pursued him through the vast, open sky. They thought themselves hunters. He nearly laughed.
Pathetic.
He scoffed, talons flexing, wings tilting as he adjusted his altitude. He was no prey. He would never be.
His sharp eyes flicked over them, assessing, calculating. Three stood out immediately.
A red dragon, thick with muscle that lead charge, a beast whose entire existence revolved around brute force. His kind were the war hammers of the sky, swinging wildly, caring little for precision as long as they win. Seonghwa had seen this one before, flaunting his strength for all to see, posturing like some mindless predator who thought sheer size was enough to win a fight.
Laughable.
Then, there was the golden one—sleek and fast, his movements sharp as lightning. His clan was known for their speed, their ability to strike and vanish before retaliation could begin. A more intelligent foe, perhaps, but not an invincible one. Speed was meaningless if one could anticipate it. And Seonghwa had never been one to miss a pattern.
And then, the others. Three more. Insignificant. Blurred figures that had already been dismissed from his mind before he could bother analyzing them further. They were scavengers, jackals hoping to ride on the coattails of stronger beasts, hoping for a taste of whatever spoils they imagined would come from this encounter.
Seonghwa bared his fangs in silent amusement, his body coiling with precise tension. Let them come. Let them make fools of themselves. He had no interest in being caught but if they wished to challenge him, to attempt to stake their claim, they would be sorely mistaken.
The first dragon lunged, a blur of red against the sky, claws outstretched and fangs bared in raw, desperate aggression. Seonghwa felt the shift in the air before he even saw it, the sharp displacement of wind as his offender propelled forward with reckless force. Instinct took over.
With a single, precise movement, he twisted midair, his massive silver wings slicing through the clouds like honed blades, the sunlight catching on their icy sheen and making him momentarily glow like a spirit of winter itself.
The rush of fire came next, blistering and furious, a torrent of flame that roared past his tail, missing him by mere inches. Fool. Did they believe fire would bend him, an ice borne dragon, to submission? With a flick of his wings, he curved his body in a sharp arc, letting the frost deep inside him coil and tighten, a shivering pressure waiting to be unleashed.
Then, he exhaled.
A furious gust of sheer, frigid cold tore through the sky, sharp as daggers, and struck true. The red dragon’s roar twisted into something strangled, his powerful wing encased in a spreading layer of glittering frost. For a second, he flailed, trying to shake off the numbing grip of ice that had arrested his movements mid-flap, but it was futile. Gravity seized him next.
With a cry, he plummeted, spiralling violently towards the snow covered mountains below, his form growing smaller and smaller until he was nothing more than a speck swallowed by the expanse of jagged peaks.
They were relentless, these suitors, these desperate, mindless creatures driven by the raw instinct to claim. He could hear them, their thunderous roars vibrating through the very air, their determination palpable, their hunger almost suffocating. They wanted to sink their claws into him. To tear through his defenses, to wrestle him into submission, to force his will to bend.
Let them try.
Seonghwa banked sharply, his massive wings cutting through the sky like gleaming blades, the force of his movement sending a gust of icy wind piercing through the air. His silver-white scales shimmered beneath the daylight. If they wanted to catch him, they would have to be faster, stronger—better. And he knew, without a doubt, that none of them were.
But the golden dragon was fast. Faster than Seonghwa anticipated. A streak of molten gold tore through the sky, a blur of motion that defied the winds as it lunged straight at him, reckless and determined.
Seonghwa had barely a moment to twist his body to the side, but it wasn’t enough—the impact was made. The sheer force of the golden dragon’s momentum slammed into his side, knocking the air from him. Their bodies tangled in midair, the collision sending a shockwave through the sky as they spiraled dangerously toward the earth below.
A snarl tore through Seonghwa’s throat, primal and furious, his instincts roaring to life. He refused to be pinned. His wings flexed, powerful muscles straining as he fought against the golden dragon’s speed. The other dragon’s claws scraped against his scales, seeking to latch on—to drag him down. Seonghwa’s icy breath surged forward before the golden dragon could react, a stream of icy frost aimed directly at its tail. The moment the ice hit, it crackled and spread, locking golden scales in a web of frozen blue, weighing down the other dragon mid-flight.
But Seonghwa wasn’t finished. Not nearly. His sharp teeth bared, glinting like daggers, and in a flash, he struck. His jaws clamped down on the golden dragon’s wing, not to tear—no, that would be too easy—but to freeze. A surge of cold rushed from his fangs into the delicate membrane of the wing, frost spiraling outward like intricate filigree, robbing the golden dragon of the very speed it prided itself on.
A roar of frustration echoed through the sky as the golden dragon jerked back, wings struggling against the cold of the ice. Seonghwa flapped his wings once, twice, sending himself higher, his breath still curling in the frigid air. He looked down at the dragon below, his glacial eyes filled with nothing but cool indifference.
The air trembled as Seonghwa twisted mid-flight. He had just sent the golden dragon plummeting, its wings heavy with ice, but there was no time to bask in victory. A flicker of darkness rippled against the blue backdrop. Then it struck.
A dark purple dragon lunged from underneath, its presence barely perceptible until it was already too close. Seonghwa barely had time to react before claws slashed through the air, aiming for his throat. He banked hard, flipping his body to the side in an elegant, razor-thin maneuver. The shadow dragon snarled, its teeth snapping on empty space where Seonghwa had been mere moments ago.
It was fast. Too fast. Unlike the brute force of the red dragon or the searing speed of the golden one, this one moved like liquid smoke, slipping through the sky. Every time Seonghwa dodged, it was already there again, forcing him on the defensive. The shadow twisted around him, coiling through the air, its long, serpentine tail nearly catching his wingtip.
Seonghwa spun, flipping to his back before shooting forward in a sudden burst of icy wind from his wings. He felt the shadow dragon’s claws swipe by him. Not quick enough. Seonghwa’s wings flared, and in one smooth motion, he dove downward, drawing the shadow in. It followed, its hungry growl rumbling through the sky, but Seonghwa had already anticipated the move.
As soon as it committed to the dive, Seonghwa twisted sharply, a gust of frigid wind bursting from him. Frost curled in the air, masking him for a split second—just long enough to let him slip free of the trap. He shot upward, flipping through the clouds, leaving the shadow dragon snarling in frustration below.
Before Seonghwa could even take a breath of victory, he saw the other three dragons had closed in, their hungry eyes locked onto him like predators that had finally cornered their prey.
He could hear them—each flap of their wings, each growl vibrating through the currents of the high-altitude battle. Their intent was clear. They had seen him take down the red brute, witnessed him fight off the golden and shadow one, and now they wanted to be the ones to claim victory over the untouchable ice dragon.
Seonghwa prepared himself, his instincts sharp, ready for the onslaught. His wings tensed, his frigid breath pooling at the back of his throat as he calculated his next move.
But just as the three dragons were poised to strike, as their talons gleamed with the promise of carnage—
It came.
A sound so immense it shattered through the sky, tearing apart the very air itself—a roar unlike anything Seonghwa had ever heard before. It wasn’t just loud; it was a force, a presence, a declaration that made the very atmosphere tremble. It did not just shake the air—it cleaved through existence itself, ending the sky as if it were paper beneath its claws. The sky itself seemed to bow in reverence to its authority.
The roar tore through Seonghwa, vibrating through his scales, sending an involuntary shudder through him. It wasn’t just sound—it was power incarnate. A force of nature that demanded attention, that commanded obedience. It was a roar that spoke of dominance, of an existence beyond the realm of ordinary dragons. It was not a sound meant to be heard. It was meant to be felt, to be obeyed.
The other dragons faltered. Their wings lost their rhythm for but a fraction of a second—but it was enough. Fear crept into the edges of their frames, uncertainty twisting through the predatory gleam in their eyes. They were no longer hunters. They were prey caught in the presence of something far beyond them.
Seonghwa’s eyes snapped upwards, drawn to the source before he could even process what he was doing. And then—he saw it.
A shadow.
Colossal. Impossibly vast, It loomed over the sky like an eclipse swallowing the earth whole. The very sun, a celestial force in its own right, was consumed, its light strangled beneath the vastness of this being’s presence. Wings, so impossibly immense that they seemed to bridge the horizon itself, pouring darkness upon the battlefield.
Seonghwa, who prided himself on never feeling fear, felt something foreign slither into him.
Not even the Dragon King had a form this colossal. Not even the most revered of their kind had brought forth such an overwhelming shadow upon the sky. It made him feel small. Insignificant. Like a rabbit frozen before a tiger.
The dragons that had been seconds away from striking him faltered mid-flight, their own wings hesitating, their gazes caught between their pursuit and the sheer presence that had just entered their domain.
The roar came again.
A second eruption, even more savage than the first. Seonghwa felt his own wings quiver, his breath hitching as the immense magnitude of its presence bore down upon his very soul.
He had been so entranced, so utterly ensnared by the monstrous silhouette above, that he didn't notice the three dragons that had been on his tail had returned their focus onto him and closed in. They were fast—too fast. Their hesitation only surfaced for a second, and now, with renewed desperation, they surged toward him, talons outstretched, fangs bared, their intent clear.
Too close. Too sudden.
Seonghwa barely had time to react before the force of the roar tore through the sky once more, an unforgiving command that sent a visible shudder through every dragon present. This time, the force was so overwhelming that even the ones who followed him were momentarily thrown off-course, their flight staggered, their movements portraying the first whispers of terror.
From above, molten fire rained down upon them—not just fire, but liquid heat, a searing flood of destruction like a volcano spilling into the sky. The infernal rivers surged downward in thick, undulating streams, the air itself howling in protest as the heat warped and twisted it into shimmering mirages.
The offending dragons barely managed to twist away in time, their triumphant shrieks turning into screams as the blazing inferno licked at their scales, leaving singed, smoking patches in its wake. The ones who had been so eager, so arrogant in their pursuit of him, now faltered, their bravado crumbling.
Seonghwa could see it in their eyes. The shift. The fear.
The realization dawned on them like the cold clutch of winter—this was no longer about Seonghwa. He was no longer their enemy, no longer the prize they sought to claim. He had become insignificant in the face of something much, much greater. The true danger was no longer him. It was the presence that loomed above them. And in that instant, they knew the truth: Seonghwa was not worth the risk. Not when whatever that was had placed itself between them.
With their hesitation turning into fear, the dragons turned tail, their once-coordinated formation collapsing into chaos as they scattered like frightened birds before an oncoming storm. Wings flapped furiously against the sky, their retreat a mad scramble to escape.
Seonghwa did not linger to revel in their cowardice. His breath came out in pants as he flapped his own wings, pushing himself forward, harder. He would not look shaken. He would not show fear. But his body ached with the strain, his instincts screaming at him to flee faster, to escape whatever monster had just made itself known. The primal instinct in him, the one that had guided him through countless battles, screamed at him to escape, to put as much distance as possible between himself and the unknown terror.
Another roar. This one closer. Stronger.
Seonghwa swallowed, the sound vibrating through him, his muscles coiling with an urgency he could not suppress. Still, he flew, carving a path through the sky.
And then… the shadow above him lifted.
Slowly, as though peeling away the layers of a storm, the darkness receded, revealing glimpses of the sky once more. The thick, choking clouds parted, allowing fragments of blue to peek through the abyss. Seonghwa hesitated only for a second, but that second was enough for his instincts to demand he look. And against his better judgment, against every fiber of his being that told him to keep flying, he did. He glanced over his shoulder. And that was when everything changed.
Mid-flight, his gaze locked onto the dragon.
A monstrous beast unlike any other. Its scales were the deepest shade of black, darker than the void between the stars, absorbing the sunlight rather than reflecting it. Vast wings stretched wide, each membrane covered with intricate lines of molten lava, as if the very fire of the earth coursed beneath its skin.
Its tail, long and sinuous, moved with a terrifying grace, lined with jagged ridges that gleamed dark in the daylight. At its nape, thick fur bristled like that of a primordial beast, a relic of something ancient and untamed. The horns that curled from its head were obsidian, sharp and regal, a crown befitting only the most formidable of creatures.
Seonghwa noticed that it was following him. But not with the intent to strike, not with the hunger of a predator chasing its prey. No—this was different. This was something far more unsettling.
The massive beast kept its distance, but it was watching him. Stalking him. A presence so unwavering, so fixated, that it sent a different kind of ice through Seonghwa.
But none of that compared to what truly made his breath catch in his throat, what made his wings tremble for just the briefest of moments.
It was the eyes.
They were locked onto him with an intensity that pierced straight through his very core, burning hotter than the molten fire that had nearly scorched the skies moments before. They were eyes filled with something deeper than mere aggression or dominance. Those eyes—they weren’t just any eyes.
They were familiar.
Seonghwa’s wings nearly faltered mid-air, the sudden weight of realization crashing into him with a force too strong.
It was him.
His breath hitched, and a single, shaky gasp escaped his lips. The fire. The overwhelming, suffocating heat. The sheer, oppressive presence that had sent every other dragon fleeing in terror. It all made sense now. Because the dragon above him, the one who had torn apart the sky with his roar, the one who had commanded fire itself as though it were an extension of his will—
It was him.
Hongjoong.
His body tensed upon the realization. The molten rivers of lava, the blistering heat that clung to the air, the weight of fire and fury that had overtaken the skies—every piece of it fell into place, forming a truth so staggering it left him breathless.
The enormous dragon roared again, locking eyes straight with Seonghwa. It wasn’t just a glance—it was a hold, an unbreakable tether that bound them across the vast sky.
The monstrous dragon was Hongjoong.
No wonder Hongjoong’s clan had risen through the ranks with such terrifying speed. It had always been a mystery, a whispered question among lesser dragons—how had they climbed so high, so fast? But now, as Seonghwa stared at the sheer immensity of the beast behind him, the answer was clear.
A dragon of this size, of this raw and uncontainable power, a creature that could command molten fire as though it were an extension of its very being—it was madness. An anomaly. A force of nature unlike any other.
And now, that force of nature was focused entirely on him.
Seonghwa barely had a moment to react before he felt it—the shift in the air. The massive dragon behind him had gained speed, closing the distance between them with startling ease, making it clear that Hongjoong was gonna give chase. This was no mere game, no playful challenge between rivals. This was a declaration. Hongjoong was choosing him.
A shudder went down Seonghwa’s spine, his wings faltering for the briefest of moments before he snapped himself back into focus. His instincts roared in protest, betraying him in ways he had not expected. The deepest parts of him, the ones carved from generations of instinctual hierarchy, liked this. They relished in the knowledge that Hongjoong had protected him, that he had staked his claim so fiercely, so publicly.
But Seonghwa was not so easily conquered.
His pride flared hot and indignant, battling against the pull of instinct that urged him to yield. No. No matter how enormous Hongjoong was, no matter how suffocating his presence became, he would not give in without a fight. It was not in his nature to submit. He would not make it easy. If Hongjoong wanted to catch him, to claim him, he would have to earn it.
With a sharp inhale, Seonghwa threw himself forward, wings slicing through the heated air as he pushed himself faster, harder. He felt Hongjoong right behind him, the force of his wing rumbling through the sky like distant thunder. Seonghwa’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. You’re not catching me that easily.
Tilting his head back, he called upon the freezing power deep within him, the frost that lived in him, the ice that made him untouchable. His breath pooled at the back of his throat before surging outward, a storm of crystalline shards bursting forth, cutting through the air like razors. It was a warning—an unmistakable message for Hongjoong to back off.
But Hongjoong took it the completely opposite way.
Seonghwa saw it happen—saw the way Hongjoong’s massive form did not waver, did not hesitate. Instead of retreating, Hongjoong surged forward, as if Seonghwa’s ice had only served to fuel his determination. As if he thought Seonghwa was luring him in.
Seonghwa barely had time to hit himself for the stupidity before he saw it—the telltale glow beginning to form beneath Hongjoong’s throat. Gold and orange embers flickered to life beneath his scales, the molten fire inside him building, coiling, preparing to be unleashed. Seonghwa knew what was coming before it even happened, and in the next second, he twisted sharply, dodging just as a stream of searing-hot lava erupted where he had been moments before.
Without a thought, Seonghwa retaliated. His wings shifted, and another burst of ice exploded from his jaws, this time aimed directly at the source of Hongjoong’s fire—the throat. The freezing shards shot forward, sharp and unyielding, aiming to strike where it would hurt most. But the moment the ice landed, Seonghwa paled.
The ice didn’t even make a dent.
The moment the frost collided with Hongjoong’s throat, it melted on impact. The heat radiating from within him was too great. The ice had no chance—it vanished in an instant, dissolving into steam before it could even do anything.
Hongjoong barely reacted. He didn’t flinch, didn’t slow down, didn’t falter. If anything, the molten glow beneath his scales only burned brighter.
Seonghwa gritted his teeth, flapping harder, his scales shifting—transforming into hardened ice, a protective barrier against the fiery onslaught.
Hongjoong dove after him. His molten presence swallowed the air, radiating unbearable heat, but Seonghwa didn’t waver. He twisted his body, maneuvering through the sky, ice trailing in his wake as he evaded the first strike—a stream of lava so thick it could have melted a mountain. The fire sizzled against the frost-coated sky, but Seonghwa had already flown from that spot, darting away before the embers could reach him.
Hongjoong snarled, banking sharply, his massive body moving with an agility that should have been impossible for something of his size. Another blast of molten fury came barreling toward Seonghwa, but he rolled, wings tucked for just a breath before he snapped them open again, letting the momentum launch him higher, beyond Hongjoong’s reach for a fleeting moment.
Hongjoong’s eyes glowed like twin suns, locked onto Seonghwa with unwavering determination. He struck again, a clawed swipe. Seonghwa twisted mid-air, the tips of those talons grazing the ice-armored plates of his tail. With a snarl, he retaliated, a sharp snap of his wings sending shards of ice flying toward Hongjoong like a storm of frozen daggers.
The larger dragon merely growled, the molten glow of his throat glowing. Seonghwa barely had time to react before another surge of fire erupted from Hongjoong’s mouth, painting the sky in blistering lava. Seonghwa dove at the very second, the heat singing the edges of his wings, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t let Hongjoong win this so easily.
Darting to the side, Seonghwa surged forward. He ducked, weaved, spiraled, dodging every offense with an infuriating grace that had Hongjoong snarling. Seonghwa smirked, using his agility to his advantage, sending another volley of ice shards toward his opponent. Hongjoong growled, shaking off the frozen remnants with ease, but the moment of distraction was enough. Seonghwa surged forward, closing the distance between them—
But Hongjoong was waiting.
With a burst of speed the larger dragon lunged, his jaws snapping. Seonghwa barely had time to twist away before Hongjoong’s powerful jaw caught him—right at the back of his neck.
Seonghwa roared in outrage, thrashing wildly, wings flaring in resistance. But Hongjoong held firm, his grip unyielding.
He had caught him.
With all the strength in his body, he twisted, claws scraping against Hongjoong’s scales. They tumbled, wings flailing, two forces of nature locked in a chaotic struggle as they fell downwards.
The sky trembled with their battle, the clouds parting beneath them as they plummeted toward the highest mountain peak below. The impact sent a shockwave through the land, scattering snow and stone as the two dragons collided with the earth.
Seonghwa was the first to stand up, scrambling back with a defiant snarl, breathing heavily, his wings tensed and ready. Across from him, Hongjoong rose, lava dripping from between his fangs, his massive form radiating scorching heat.
Seonghwa refused to cower. He reared his head, a ferocious roar tearing from his throat as he snapped his jaws at Hongjoong, daring him to try again. He knew what had nearly happened—that single touch of Hongjoong’s jaw against his nape had been enough to signify the claim, the end of the hunt. But Seonghwa refused to accept it.
He prepared another blast of ice, his power surging—
But then Hongjoong roared.
Louder than ever before. Aimed straight towards Seonghwa.
He froze mid offense, he barely had time to react before the force of the roar reached him. He tried to resist, tried to fight against it, but the immense power in that roar embedded through his very core, snatching control from his grasp—
And suddenly, without his consent, he transformed.
The cold bite of the wind against bare skin was the first thing he registered. The weight of his wings vanished. The armor of his scales was replaced with soft skin. His tail curled in on itself before dissolving into air. The frigid protection of his silver scales shattered away, leaving him raw, exposed—
Bare.
The cold struck first. A vicious slap of winter wind against fragile human skin, where once there had been impenetrable armor. He trembled, not from cold but from the sudden loss of power, from the absolute disorientation of being forced into this weaker form.
A soft, weightless wrap enveloped his frame, from the curve of his neck down to just above his thighs—a lingering remnant of his transformation. It was the delicate membrane of his wings, instinctively repurposed to shield him, forming like a second skin in response to his shift.
For every dragon, this protective covering emerged upon reverting to their human form, a part of their very essence ensuring they were never left entirely bare.
Usually, with intent, one could summon a fuller garment, adjusting its form at will. But Seonghwa could summon very minimal amounts of it to cover himself. His instincts reeled, thrown into disarray. His body, too shaken to conjure anything more substantial, leaving him vulnerable in the winter air.
His breath came in sharp, frantic bursts as he stumbled, bare feet hitting the snow-covered ground. He staggered, struggling to regain his balance, his entire body shaking from the violent shift.
He had transformed. Against his will.
Seonghwa stood there, human once more, trembling from the force of what had just happened. Across from him, still in his massive dragon form, Hongjoong loomed, molten eyes locked onto him with a gaze.
Seonghwa stood his ground. He did not waver. He refused to.
Seonghwa saw the dragon lower his head slowly until his face was level with his own. The weight of that gaze sent a shudder tearing through him, but he clenched his fists, raising them into a fighter’s stance. It was absurd, standing there half-bare but he was not afraid. He would not show weakness. If Hongjoong thought size and power alone would make him submit, he had another thing coming.
But instead of striking Seonghwa, instead of asserting his power as Seonghwa expected, Hongjoong did something that sent a fresh wave of unease crawling over his skin.
Hongjoong bowed.
At first, Seonghwa thought it was a feint, a trick to make him let his guard down. But then, the dragon lowered further, his massive wings tucking in as he lowered his head completely to the ground before Seonghwa’s feet, his body close to the snow-covered ground. His golden eyes never left Seonghwa’s, but the meaning was unmistakable.
Submission.
Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat. Everything about this was wrong. Hongjoong was an apex predator, a dragon of immense power. The sight of such an overwhelming force offering himself so readily made Seonghwa's palms sweat.
What was Hongjoong doing? Why would he—
Before the thought could settle, a burst of heat filled the air. Seonghwa had to shield his eyes, stepping back instinctively as the very atmosphere seemed to ripple with the force of the transformation.
Fire swirled like embers caught in the wind, and in mere seconds, the dragon disappeared. In his place, a man stood, broad-shouldered and powerful.
Hongjoong.
His eyes still smoldered with the remnants of his transformation. His torso gleamed with the remaining embers of his dragon form, wisps of dissipating heat still coiling around his frame like reluctant ghosts.
Unlike Seonghwa, he had shifted with his own will, taking his time—enough to summon more than just the meager wrap. A long, heavy fur coat hung from his shoulders, thick and luxurious, its dark pelts dusted with the faintest traces of molten gold where his power had yet to settle. Beneath it, he wore only fitted pants, the crisp winter air biting at his exposed skin—not that he seemed to care.
His hair, dark and tousled, framed his face in sharp angles, and his eyes—those searing eyes—never wavered from Seonghwa’s own. Even in human form, Hongjoong carried the essence of his dragon—raw power restrained within a mortal shell.
And then he moved.
Long strides, purposeful and confident, closing the space between them in seconds. The air around him still crackled with heat despite the snow around them, an unspoken challenge radiating from every step. Seonghwa tensed, instincts flaring, muscles coiling tight as Hongjoong reached for him—
But Seonghwa moved first.
Pivoting sharply, he lifted his leg and struck out, aiming a precise kick straight at Hongjoong's side.
It should have landed. It would have landed on anyone else.
But Hongjoong was faster.
His hand snapping up to block the kick with so much ease, as if Seonghwa’s kick was nothing more than a mild breeze. His gaze flickered with amusement, but there was something else there too—hunger. The kind that sent warning bells ringing in Seonghwa’s mind, urging him to act before Hongjoong took the upper hand.
Without hesitation, Seonghwa lunged.
Their bodies collided as they fought, not as dragons but as men. Seonghwa twisted, trying to gain leverage, but Hongjoong was a wall of solid muscle, barely budging as he countered his every move. They moved like two storms colliding—fire against ice, heat against cold—neither willing to submit, neither willing to fall first.
Seonghwa struck, his body reacting before his mind could even process the depth of his own fury. He twisted low, aiming a sharp kick to sweep Hongjoong’s legs from beneath him, but the other man simply stepped back, dodging with an ease that sent frustration surging through Seonghwa. Not deterred, he pushed forward, pivoting on his heel and swinging his fist straight for Hongjoong's side, only to have it deflected at the very second, his knuckles barely grazing against unyielding muscle.
Teeth gritted, Seonghwa lunged again, launching a rapid assault—sharp jabs, quick strikes, movements honed from years of instinct and survival. His fists were relentless, his kicks precise, his body moving with the fluid grace of ice cutting through water. Every strike carried intent, anger and challenge. His mind raced with the desperate need to land a single blow.
But Hongjoong didn’t strike back.
He moved, but only to evade. Each offense was met with effortless precision, his body shifting just enough to let Seonghwa’s fists brush past him, his steps calculated, untouched, untouchable. There was no mockery in his gaze, no amusement—only wait, as if he was allowing Seonghwa to release every ounce of frustration, to burn through the anger that coiled inside him like a storm waiting to break.
Seonghwa’s breath came in sharp bursts, the cold air stinging him as he threw himself into the fight. He aimed for Hongjoong’s jaw—missed. Shifted low and attempted a punch to his abdomen—only for Hongjoong to turn away at the very second.
Seonghwa could feel the irritation rising like fire in him. No matter how fast he moved, no matter how much strength he put behind each strike, Hongjoong remained one step ahead. And it wasn’t because he was underestimating Seonghwa—no, that would have been easier to bear. This was a deliberate restraint, as if he was allowing Seonghwa to strike, allowing him to lash out, without ever intending to retaliate.
Seonghwa fought with everything he had. His body was a blur of power and grace, dancing through the snow. And for a moment—just a fleeting moment—he thought he was gaining the upper hand. That he could outmatch the dragon who had claimed him as his own.
He thought wrong.
Seonghwa barely had time to react before he found himself slammed into the snow, the cold biting into his skin as he struggled against the unyielding force above him. Hongjoong seized him, a single hand wrapping around his throat and forcing him down. The impact sent the world spinning as he found himself caged beneath the sheer strength of the dragon in human form. Snow scattered in a soft halo around them. Hongjoong’s grip remained firm—just enough pressure to remind Seonghwa exactly who had the advantage now.
Seonghwa snarled, his fingers clawing at Hongjoong’s wrist, muscles coiled with resistance. His breath came in short, heated bursts, defiance burning in his gaze as he tried to push Hongjoong away.
“Let go of me,” he spat, voice rough with frustration, yet still holding a fire that refused to be extinguished. His throat bobbed beneath Hongjoong’s palm, breath ragged. He glared up at the dragon shifter, refusing to show even a hint of submission. “You might have won, but I won’t give myself to you.”
A slow, knowing smirk curved Hongjoong’s lips, sharp and dangerous, like he had already anticipated those very words. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, enough to remind Seonghwa of his position pushing his nails onto the soft, vulnerable skin of Seonghwa’s throat. His eyes gleamed, as he leaned in until their lips were almost brushing. Seonghwa could feel the warmth radiating off him, the heat curling into his own breath.
“Then why do you smell like you’re aching for me?”
Seonghwa’s entire body tensed, his breath catching in his throat.
His thoughts stuttered, crashing into themselves like a storm. For a moment, his mind went utterly blank. He couldn’t think. His instincts screamed at him, demanding he acknowledge the words being spoken to him.
He had been so careful. Had kept his reactions locked. Even during their flight and this fight. Even now, beneath the weight of Hongjoong.
And yet—
Hongjoong saw through him. He felt it. He knew.
Seonghwa swallowed, his body still as those molten eyes bore into him, peeling away every single defense he had left. That gaze didn’t just look at him—it unraveled him, exposed the truths he didn’t want to acknowledge.
He had fought Hongjoong with everything he had, pushed himself to the brink, yet Hongjoong had never gone easy on him. He hadn’t treated him like something fragile, something weak. No, Hongjoong had fought him like an equal, like he knew Seonghwa was strong enough to stand his ground, strong enough to meet him head-on. And that—
That filled Seonghwa with a twisted kind of pride.
Because even as Hongjoong chased him, fought him, he wasn’t looking at him as someone he could overpower. No. Hongjoong saw him as his equal. And he had proved it in the most primal way possible.
By offering submission first.
No Alpha would ever lower themselves before their Luna. No Alpha would dare bow before them. Alphas stood at the pinnacle, towering over all, commanding power and dominance without question. Despite that, Hongjoong—proud, fierce and unshakable—had lowered himself to the ground in his dragon form, pressing his massive head by Seonghwa's feet.
A gesture that spoke louder than words.
Seonghwa had refused to acknowledge the way it sent a shiver through him, the way it went deep to his instincts. He didn’t want to accept the fact that he had found a thrill in the mating flight ritual—because of Hongjoong.
It made his mind swirl in a way he couldn't control. His entire life, he had viewed alphas as arrogant, as creatures who took without permission, who demanded instead of asked. But Hongjoong—
Hongjoong had done something unthinkable. He had bowed.
It was an unspoken promise, an undeniable vow sealed in action rather than words. It wasn’t submission in the way of weakness; it was submission in the way of choice. A choice to acknowledge, to accept, to stand together rather than force one.
And that was what truly unsettled Seonghwa.
He didn’t want to accept that somewhere deep inside him, beneath the layers of his resistance, his instincts had already chosen Hongjoong as their mate. The very core of his being had already recognized what his mind refused to accept.
Hongjoong’s eyes, those eyes, forced him to acknowledge it anyway. Forced him to stand face-to-face with the truth he had been so desperate to deny.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them was silent save for their harsh breaths, misting in the cold air between them. The snow beneath Seonghwa’s back burned with its freezing touch, yet it was nothing compared to the fire curling inside him. His mind racing trying to piece together the fragments of what he was feeling—what Hongjoong was making him feel.
Hongjoong hadn’t moved. He loomed above him, weight pressing just enough to keep Seonghwa in place but not enough to force submission.
Seonghwa could see it, could feel it in every breath Hongjoong took, in every shift of his muscles. It was a certainty. It was devotion. Hongjoong had chosen him. There was no one else. There would never be anyone else.
The realization slammed into him, and he wanted to hate it. He should hate it. He should despise this moment, should spit in Hongjoong’s face and tear himself free from this maddening pull. But he didn’t—not when those strong hands had him pinned in the snow, not when the weight of Hongjoong above him sent heat rolling through him like liquid fire.
He hated how much he liked this. Hated how the grip on his throat made him unravel, made him feel more claimed than caged. He hated how Hongjoong didn’t force him, didn’t push for anything beyond what Seonghwa was willing to give. He hated the way Hongjoong waited—waited for him to decide, to move, to either reject him or take what had been his all along.
He hated the warmth radiating from Hongjoong’s body, hated how badly he wanted to reach for it, to drown in it. He hated how the scent of embers and wild earth filled him, heady and intoxicating, making him crave more. He hated how much he wanted to feel Hongjoong pressing against him, surrounding him, claiming him.
He hated how much he wanted to—
Kiss him.
The desire surged up violently, clawing at him, demanding release. It was too much. It was maddening. With a sharp intake of breath, he tangled his fingers in his hair, yanking him down with a force that spoke of both anger and desperation, before he crushed his mouth against Hongjoong’s.
As soon as Seonghwa’s lips touched Hongjoong’s, he bit down on the Alpha’s lower lip, a sharp sting blooming between them. And just like that, Hongjoong let go of his restraint.
A guttural sound rumbled from deep within Hongjoong as he seized Seonghwa’s mouth with his own, devouring him like a beast starved beyond reason. His lips were hot, insistent, demanding, as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire existence. Seonghwa matched Hongjoong's intensity with equal fervor, their teeth clashing, biting, pulling—fighting for dominance even within the kiss.
Then, a sudden shift—Hongjoong’s hold on Seonghwa’s throat tightened, pressing him deeper into the snow, the cold biting at his back even as fire raged where their mouths met. Seonghwa gasped, a sharp inhale that gave Hongjoong the opening he wanted, his tongue sliding in without hesitation, staking its claim. His warmth melted against Seonghwa’s icy nature, their tongues warring, exploring, tangling in a way that sent a rush of heat curling in Seonghwa’s stomach.
Every drag of Hongjoong’s tongue was like fire licking against ice—burning, soothing, all at once. He felt the way Hongjoong balanced his weight on one forearm, his other hand unrelenting around his throat, tilting his head at just the right angle to deepen the kiss. The sheer hunger in Hongjoong’s movements made Seonghwa feel consumed, as if there was nothing left in the world except this—except them.
He felt warm. Overwhelmingly warm. And it was all because of Hongjoong.
Then, suddenly, Hongjoong pulled back, their lips parting with a slick sound, a thin string of saliva still connecting them before it broke and fell against Seonghwa’s lips. Hongjoong hovered above him, eyes dark with an unreadable intensity, something deep and possessive, before he spoke.
"My Luna."
The words were breathed against Seonghwa’s lips, reverent, unwavering. And before he could think, Hongjoong was pressing another kiss against his lips,—not with the same ferocity as before, but with a tenderness that made Seonghwa’s breath hitch. Then another—on his cheek, featherlight. Another, on the bridge of his nose. His eyelids. His forehead. All with an aching gentleness, as if he were trying to learn how every single inch of Seonghwa feels under his lips, as if sealing a vow with each press of his lips.
Seonghwa knew that he wasn't joking with those words. His mind spun back to the chase—the way Hongjoong had pursued him. Not like the others. The other dragons had tried to dominate him, to subdue him, to prove their strength by conquering him. But Hongjoong—Hongjoong had not. Even in his massive dragon form, he had not tried to break Seonghwa, had not sought victory through force. And Seonghwa knew, deep in his gut, that Hongjoong could have won in an instant if he had wanted to.
All Seonghwa had ever wanted was for someone to recognize his strength—not as an afterthought, not as a courtesy, but truly see it, honor it. And Hongjoong did that effortlessly, as if it had never been a question to begin with.
A single tear slipped free from Seonghwa's eye, trailing down his cheek like a whispered confession, unnoticed even by himself until the cold air kissed it away. He had never expected this. The affection, respect, devotion—all of it wrapped in Hongjoong’s unwavering gaze, in the gentleness of his touch, in the absolute reverence with which he held him. And it was too much. Too much, because this was a man he had only truly met yesterday, and Seonghwa felt as if he had known him for lifetimes. As if his soul had been waiting, reaching, longing for this moment to finally find its home.
Overwhelmed, his breath shuddered, his throat tightening until the words barely escaped in a choked whisper, raw and fragile.
“M-my Alpha…”
He wanted Hongjoong to see him—to feel the emotions brimming within him, to understand the weight of this acceptance. His trembling fingers reached up, wrapping around the hand that was still against his throat, and gently pulled it away. There was no struggle. The grip had already loosened, no longer meant to restrain but to cradle him instead.
With slow movements, he placed both palms on the sides of Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs brushing over the sharp angles of his cheekbones, memorizing the warmth, the reality of him. Then, hesitantly at first but with growing certainty, he lifted himself just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to Hongjoong’s lips—a silent declaration of his acceptance.
Fueled by pure instincts, Seonghwa rubbed his cheek against Hongjoong’s, the coolness of his skin meeting the heat of his mate’s, pushing his own scent onto him, marking him, claiming him. Letting the whole world know that he had chosen Hongjoong, that Hongjoong was his, just as much as he now belonged to him.
Hongjoong let out a deep, guttural sound—a sound of possession, of satisfaction—as he let Seonghwa scent him. He didn’t pull back, didn’t interrupt, only watched with those dark, knowing eyes as Seonghwa pressed against him, sealing their fate in the most primal way their kind knew.
With slow movements Hongjoong leaned down, putting his weight onto his elbows right by Seonghwa's face, caging him beneath his frame.
The skies shifted in that moment, a quiet reverence settling over them as if the world itself bore witness to the bond unfolding beneath them. The air, once crisp and still, trembled. And then, the first delicate flake fell, a whisper of winter’s blessing, followed by another and another until a gentle cascade of snowflakes swirled around them, weightless as feathers. The world held its breath.
Each flake melted against the warmth of their skin, dissolving like a lover’s sigh. The snow didn’t fall in a harsh storm, nor in chaotic gusts—it was soft, a caress from nature itself, as though the sky had deemed their union sacred.
Seonghwa could feel it, the way the flakes kissed his cheeks, the way they landed upon Hongjoong’s exposed collarbone, glistening like tiny diamonds before they disappeared into the heat of his skin. They clung to Hongjoong’s lashes, dusted his dark hair with a shimmering frost that made him look otherworldly.
Seonghwa’s breath hitched. He leaned forward, his fingers still cradling Hongjoong’s face with a reverence he didn’t know he possessed, and pressed a lingering kiss to the snowflakes that had settled there, melting them away with the heat of his lips. Hongjoong rumbled, a low sound reverberating through him. It sent a shiver down Seonghwa’s spine, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the man hovering above him.
His lips moved lower, trailing kisses down the strong curve of Hongjoong’s throat, toward the spot where a mating mark would belong. The place that, if claimed, would forever bind them together. Seonghwa hesitated for only a second before letting instinct take over. Slowly, he parted his lips and let the very tip of his tongue taste the skin.
The reaction was instant.
Heat spread across his tongue, a rush of warmth so potent it felt like kissing the sunlight itself. He licked the spot again, this time pressing a little more firmly, savoring the way Hongjoong’s body tensed above him. The Alpha did not push him away—he simply let Seonghwa explore, let him learn the feeling of him, the taste of his skin, the very essence of his being.
The taste—it was intoxicating. Like caramelized spice kissed by the heat of an open flame, a contradiction of warmth and cold that made Seonghwa's head spin.
The scent followed next—oh, the scent was different. It carried the essence of power and wilderness, a storm rolling in over sun-scorched cliffs. There was a rawness to it, the deep musk of heated stone after rain, covered with the faintest trace of cinnamon bark and charred amber.
He inhaled for the first time, truly letting it in, truly allowing himself to drown in it. The moment it hit him, the effect was undeniable. It was so strong, so utterly consuming that it went straight to his core, making his thighs clench around Hongjoong’s waist before he could stop himself. He could feel the dampness gather between his thighs, a telltale sign of his body’s surrender to the scent of an Alpha so perfectly attuned to him.
Which did not go unnoticed by Hongjoong.
Hongjoong lifted his head from where it had been nestled against Seonghwa’s collarbone. The moment his face hovered above Seonghwa’s, a smirk curled at the edges of his lips, dark amusement flickering in his molten gaze—because he could smell it.
The sharp, intoxicating scent of Seonghwa’s arousal had thickened in the cold air, unmistakable even amidst the snow that clung to their surroundings. It was rich and heady, carrying the crispness of frozen lilies touched by the first breath of winter, thinly veiled with the soft, delicate sweetness of moonflower nectar. It was rare, elusive—like it's only meant to be found in the quietest hours of the night, something that melted against the tongue only to disappear too soon.
Seonghwa felt heat crawling up the column of his neck in a rare display of shyness, and Hongjoong saw it.
Hongjoong's smirk deepened, and without looking away, he reached up—trailing a single calloused finger along the damp path Seonghwa’s tongue had left on his throat, as if savoring the feeling of being marked.
His voice dropped lower, thick with amusement and hunger, as he breathed,
“My turn.”
Hongjoong took hold of Seonghwa’s delicate throat again, his fingers splaying possessively over the column of his neck. With the slightest pressure, he tilted Seonghwa’s head back into the snow, baring his throat to him in complete surrender.
Slowly, Hongjoong bent down and licked a broad stripe from the base of Seonghwa’s throat all the way up to his chin. His tongue was rough and hot, dragging over every inch of sensitive flesh as though he were desperate to imprint Seonghwa’s very essence onto his taste buds. He wanted to taste every molecule of him, to brand him with nothing but his mouth. Seonghwa shuddered violently, his legs instinctively tightening around Hongjoong’s waist.
Hongjoong inhaled deeply, his mind clouded by the unmistakable scent of arousal curling thickly around them, wrapping around his senses.
Without hesitation, he lowered his head once more, his lips parting as he traced his tongue along the sensitive curve of Seonghwa’s throat, right over his scent gland. The moment his tongue made contact, he groaned low, tasting him. Tasting the delicate sweetness of moonflower nectar and Hongjoong knew he would never grow tired of it.
His lips curled slightly as he bit down, just enough for his teeth to graze the delicate skin, not enough to break it—just enough to make Seonghwa react. And he did. A sharp inhale, fingers twitching before they instinctively came up, grasping onto Hongjoong’s arms in a desperate bid to steady himself.
Encouraged, Hongjoong tightened his hold around Seonghwa’s waist, his grip firm yet possessive. He shifted slightly, his breath fanning over the dampened skin before he latched onto the softest part of Seonghwa’s throat. He held that spot between his teeth, savoring the way Seonghwa’s breath hitched, before he sucked—deep, slow, intent on leaving a mark.
Seonghwa’s fingers curled, nails digging slightly into Hongjoong’s arms, but he didn’t push him away. No, if anything, his body leaned into the touch, his breath stuttering in a way that made Hongjoong smirk against his throat. He dragged his tongue over the blooming mark, tasting the heat that lingered there, and murmured against his skin, his voice a low growl—
“Mine.”
His lips and teeth mapped the expanse of Seonghwa’s throat, licking, nipping and sucking. Each press of his mouth was meant to leave bruises in his wake, to mark Seonghwa so thoroughly that no one would ever question whom he belonged to. The soft material of Seonghwa’s clothing was an unwelcome barrier between them, and with a low growl, Hongjoong let one hand slide up, fisting the supple material before effortlessly tearing it apart with a single pull.
Seonghwa gasped at the sudden exposure, his breath catching in his throat. Instinctively, he brought his hands up, shielding himself from Hongjoong’s devouring gaze. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his body—but under Hongjoong’s eyes, under the weight of his attention, shyness crept in like an unfamiliar tide. His body had never been seen like this before. Not by anyone. Not like this.
Hongjoong let out a dark, knowing chuckle, the sound rumbling deep like a storm on the horizon. With slow movements he shrugged off his heavy fur coat, letting it slip from his shoulders in one fluid motion. He grabbed the coat and threw it aside as if it were his sworn enemy at that moment, all while watching Seongwha underneath him.
His eyes never wavered from Seonghwa as he reached for his wrists with a firm hold and pried them away from him. He kissed over the delicate knuckles, almost teasing, before guiding Seonghwa’s arms above his head, pinning them into the soft snow. The movement arched Seonghwa’s back beautifully, exposing the expanse of his front to Hongjoong's hungry gaze.
Seonghwa felt his fingers sink into the snow at his sides, the icy cold grounding him for only a second before warmth took over once more.
Hongjoong bent down, his breath ghosting over a pert, dusky nipple—already hardened from the cold. Seonghwa barely had time to react before Hongjoong’s lips closed around it, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before trapping it between his teeth and sucking with an almost punishing intensity. The sensation sent a shockwave through Seonghwa’s entire body, his spine bowing as a breathless, stuttering moan escaped his lips.
“H-Hongjoong…”
The sound of his name, the way it trembled past Seonghwa's lips, breathless and needy, make Hongjoong groan against him. That voice—sweet and drenched in pleasure—was a melody that could shame the most beautiful symphonies. The moan that Seonghwa let out was a music crafted just for him, a symphony of pleasure he intended to draw out again and again.
Hongjoong’s fingers slid down, finding purchase at Seonghwa’s waist as he spread his fingers wide over the soft plane of skin. He squeezed, slow and firm, feeling the way Seonghwa’s body tensed beneath his palm before relaxing into it. His thumb caressed circles against the sharp dip of his hip, before his grip tightened, kneading into the flesh with just the right amount of pressure. He reveled in the contrast—the silken cold of Seonghwa’s skin against his own rough, hand. It was intoxicating, the way Seonghwa melted into his touch and he wanted to feel all of him, wanted to map out every single inch of this body he was claiming as his own
His mouth, hot and unrelenting, found Seonghwa’s nipple once more, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud with a teasing, feather-light touch before pressing down firmly. He flattened his tongue against it, dragging the wet heat in a slow, agonizing circle before closing his lips around it and sucking. Hard. The sharp intake of breath Seonghwa gave in response only spurred him on.
Hongjoong’s teeth pushed against the already sensitive flesh, nibbling just enough to make Seonghwa jerk, a startled gasp leaving his lips. He soothed the bite with another slow, languid lick of his tongue, before sucking again. His lips sealed around the bud as he hollowed his cheeks, drawing it deeper into his mouth, his tongue lavishing it with attention, swirling, flicking, teasing. He alternated between bites and licks, listening intently to every reaction, committing each gasp, each shudder to memory.
Seonghwa writhed beneath him, his fingers twitching before reaching up, grasping at Hongjoong's hair—perhaps in an attempt to ground himself, or perhaps to push him away from sensitivity. But Hongjoong wasn’t stopping. Not when he had Seonghwa unraveling beneath him so beautifully.
His hand moved lower, tracing the delicate curve of Seonghwa’s waist, kneading possessively at the flesh there before his palm splayed over the small of his back, pressing him closer. Seonghwa’s legs trembled slightly where they were wrapped around his waist, clenching just a little tighter, as if his body sought him out unconsciously.
Hongjoong smirked against his skin, pressing a lingering kiss over the flesh, satisfied with the deep flush he had left behind. His hands continued their slow exploration, mapping out every inch of this body that was now his to touch, to claim.
And he had no intention of stopping until Seonghwa knew—without a shadow of a doubt—who he belonged to.
Seonghwa had never felt anything like this before—never. Even when his instincts had taken hold of him before, in the solitude of his own room, it had never been the same. Nothing had ever set his body alight quite like this, like the warmth of Hongjoong above him, pressing into him, consuming him whole. There was something in the way Hongjoong touched him—rough and unyielding, yet at the same time unbearably tender—that made him feel bare. Not just in body, but in soul.
His moan came unbidden, spilling past his parted lips when he felt Hongjoong slide lower, lips ghosting over the delicate skin of his waist. The hot press of his mouth sent shivers through Seonghwa, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. Every kiss, every flick of Hongjoong’s tongue was deliberate, tracing downward, lower and lower, until Seonghwa’s breath hitched—until he realized just how dangerously close Hongjoong was to touching him where he ached for him the most.
A gasp escaped from his throat as Hongjoong dipped his tongue into the hollow of his belly button, dragging wet heat down, teasing but never quite touching where Seonghwa wanted him most. His body jolted, a desperate attempt to squirm away, but Hongjoong had different plans. Hands grasped his waist, pinning him in place against the unforgiving snow as he continued. Seonghwa whined, back arching as Hongjoong’s lips pressed against the sensitive junction where his leg met his waist.
And then, Hongjoong bit.
"A-ah—!"
Seonghwa’s cry was high and breathless, a delicious pleasure that left him clawing at Hongjoong’s shoulders, grasping at whatever he could to keep himself grounded. The sensation was unbearable Hongjoong’s teeth latched onto him, claiming, branding, marking him in a way that was irreversible.
"Sensitive here, are we?"
The words heavy with amusement, that sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in Seonghwa’s core. Hongjoong didn’t wait for an answer—he knew. He could feel the way Seonghwa trembled beneath him, the way his nails pushed into his flesh as if seeking anchor. He could smell it, the intoxicating scent of his slick spilling onto the snow, a silent, instinctive surrender.
A smirk tugged at Hongjoong’s lips as he tightened his grip, keeping Seonghwa in place as he lowered himself, lips ghosting over the newly-formed mark before sealing his mouth around it again. He sucked, harder this time, his tongue laving over the abused flesh, soothing and teasing all at once. Another mark, then another, his kisses turning into dark bruises blooming across Seonghwa’s skin like a field of forbidden flowers. Seonghwa writhed, breath coming in shallow gasps, each press of Hongjoong’s lips sending him spiraling further into the haze of pleasure.
But Hongjoong wasn’t done.
He pressed his face into the crook of Seonghwa’s thigh, right where the marks of his teeth were still darkening. And then, he rubbed his scent into them, dragging his nose and jaw across the sensitive skin, his deep, smoky musk seeping into Seonghwa, branding him in a way no one else ever had. Scenting was sacred, a way to claim, to warn others to stay away—but choosing to scent his privates rather than the scent gland on his throat was something Seonghwa had never even heard of.
Seonghwa’s body answered before his mind could process it. A fresh gush of slick spilled from him, soaking the snow beneath, as if his body had decided on its own to show Hongjoong just how much he approved of the marking. The moment was so raw, so visceral, that it left him gasping, hands fisting into Hongjoong's hair. He had never known something like this existed, never known that pleasure could be so consuming, so all-encompassing.
Hongjoong growled, the sound reverberating through Seonghwa as he lifted his head just enough to meet Seonghwa’s dazed gaze. His eyes were dark with hunger and possessiveness so raw that it made Seonghwa feel like he was being swallowed whole.
"Mine," Hongjoong rumbled, voice husky, lips curving into something dangerous, something devastating. "All mine."
The moment Seonghwa saw Hongjoong come face to face with his aching, flushed cock, every breath he took seemed to shatter into trembling fragments. The anticipation coiled tight in his gut, his thighs tensing where they lay open for him, vulnerable, waiting—aching.
A kiss.
A mere brush of lips, reverent yet teasing, right at the tip. It sent a jolt straight up Seonghwa’s spine, his fingers twisting into the snow beneath him. Hongjoong dipped lower, as he inhaled deeply at the very base of Seonghwa’s cock, his nose pressing in, letting his breath linger there like he was drinking in the essence of his mate. Seonghwa whined, breath hitching at the sensation of Hongjoong’s nose nuzzling him, pressing into the source of his scent, of the slick pouring from him like a silent invitation only Hongjoong could answer.
Hongjoong rumbled, the sound reverberating against sensitive skin, and Seonghwa couldn’t hold back the shiver that wracked through him. Then, without hesitation, Hongjoong dragged his tongue up slowly from base to tip, leaving a glistening sheen of spit in its wake. It was broad, warm, wet—coating Seonghwa’s cock in his spit. Seonghwa's lips parted to let out a loud moan at the touch of Hongjoong's tongue.
Hongjoong did it again. Another slow, languid lick, heavier this time, pressing into the ridges as if he wanted his spit to be embedded in him. And again. This time, his tongue lingered at the tip, swirling, teasing, tasting. He traced the slit with the very tip of his tongue, lapping up the bead of arousal that had gathered there before humming in approval, savoring it, letting the taste settle on his tongue
Hongjoong was relentless.
Seonghwa sobbed. His hips jerked involuntarily, a desperate attempt to chase more friction, more warmth, but Hongjoong merely chuckled, dark and amused, before flattening his tongue against the sensitive underside of Seonghwa’s cock and dragging it back down.
The moment Hongjoong took the head into his mouth—warm, wet, engulfing—Seonghwa screamed. Pleasure surged through his entire body. Hongjoong sucked shallow at first, his tongue flicking at the sensitive underside, savoring every little reaction—every shudder, every hitched breath, every moan that spilled from Seonghwa’s lips.
Without warning—he took him deeper.
Seonghwa gasped, his hands flying to Hongjoong’s hair, but it was no use. He was already sinking down, lips stretching around him, the heat of his mouth utterly devastating, sucking hard enough to leave Seonghwa lightheaded, dizzy with pleasure.
“Ah—ah, H-Hongjoong—!” His moans were high and breathless, his voice cracking as he tried to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but Hongjoong only hummed around him, sending vibrations through him. Seonghwa shook. He was unraveling, piece by piece, caught in the ruthless pace Hongjoong set—licking, sucking, devouring.
Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore—just when his entire body was filled with pleasure, on the edge—Hongjoong pulled off.
For a split second, Seonghwa thought he was being granted mercy. A chance to breathe. But then—
Strong, firm hands wrapped around his thighs, holding tight, and before Seonghwa could react, Hongjoong pushed them up—bent him in half—exposing him so obscenely to the open air that his entire body flushed scarlet. His hole, glistening with slick, was on full display, twitching under Hongjoong’s hungry gaze. Seonghwa’s breath caught, shame and unbearable arousal flooding his system all at once.
“H-Hongjoong!” Seonghwa gasped, his voice cracking with mortification thick in his tone, but it only made the alpha’s smirk widen, his hold on Seonghwa’s thighs tightening.
“What?” Hongjoong drawled, amusement darkening the molten amber of his eyes.
Seonghwa swallowed thickly, his voice barely a whisper as he tried to protest, “S-Someone could see us…”
A sharp exhale of a chuckle, and Hongjoong’s grip on his thighs tightened possessively. “Don’t think about it, Seonghwa.” His voice was thick with possessiveness and dominance.
“No one will see you like this but me.”
His fingers flexed, pressing in as if to brand the claim into Seonghwa’s very skin. “I chose this place for a reason—the highest ground. I scouted it yesterday, right after meeting you.”
Something deep within Seonghwa curled, and melted all at once. Hongjoong had planned this? Had already thought ahead, already chosen a place where he could take him, claim him without interruption? The realization made him blush fiercely, as more slick oozed out of his hole.
"B-but-"
Before Seonghwa could finish his sentence. Hongjoong leaned in and pressed a scorching kiss against the back of Seonghwa’s trembling thigh.
Then another. And another.
His lips, his teeth, his tongue—he marked him, sucked bruises into the tender skin, dragging his canines lightly before soothing them with a broad swipe of his tongue. He was drunk on the slick that had trickled down Seonghwa’s thighs, lapping up the evidence of his arousal with a growl of satisfaction.
Seonghwa writhed, hands gripping at the snow, breath hitching with every kiss, every sharp bite. He knew—he just knew—his thighs would be littered with bruises, the thought only made him whimper.
Hongjoong kept licking lower and lower but never quite where Seonghwa desperately needed him the most. It was maddening—the slow drag of Hongjoong’s tongue, the teasing flicks against his cock, the avoidance of that one place where Seonghwa ached to be touched. He whined, his body tensing, thighs twitching in anticipation each time Hongjoong’s tongue swiped teasingly by his hole, only to pull away at the next second.
Hongjoong was toying with him. He knew it. Seonghwa knew it. And yet, that knowledge did nothing to soothe the unbearable need pooling between his legs. Without looking, Hongjoong reached for Seonghwa’s hands, grasping them as he guided them, pressing them against the backs of Seonghwa's thighs, silently commanding him to hold himself open—for Hongjoong.
His fingers trembled where they held onto his own thighs, his lips parting in quiet, breathy moans, eyes hazy as he peered down at Hongjoong, only to find the Alpha smirking against his skin, eyes dark and alight with predatory satisfaction.
Just as Seonghwa was beginning to resign himself to more teasing, Hongjoong’s tongue pressed firmly, wet and hot, right onto his leaking, twitching hole.
Seonghwa gasped, back arching into his own hold as his toes curled. A desperate sound escaped him, high and breathless, because the sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
Hongjoong's lips sealed around Seonghwa’s entrance, his tongue pressing insistently before dipping in, coaxing out more slick, drinking him down like he had been starving for this. Seonghwa moaned loud at the sheer filthiness of it—the way Hongjoong was devouring him in the open air, without shame, without hesitation.
And oh, Hongjoong was enjoying himself. The low, satisfied growl reverberating from deep within him had Seonghwa dizzy, making him pour out more slick onto his tongue. He could feel Hongjoong gulp, drinking in his slick like he was addicted to the taste of it.
Hongjoong thought the slick was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. It was intoxicating, addictive. It was something only Seonghwa could give him, something only his hole could produce, and the thought of that made Hongjoong delirious with hunger.
Wanting more, needing more, Hongjoong pushed his tongue inside.
Seonghwa keened, his head falling back against the snow, his thighs trembling in his grasp. The slick, wet muscle pushed in deeper, curling, licking long stripes against his inner walls, leaving nothing untouched, no part unexplored. The pressure, the warmth, the obscene wetness of it all overwhelmed him. Hongjoong wasn’t just teasing him anymore—he was consuming him, tongue-fucking him with a hunger so insatiable it made Seonghwa dizzy.
Hongjoong searched with purpose, an undeniable eagerness driving him deeper, seeking that one spot that would make Seonghwa unravel completely. He pushed a hand under Seonghwa’s ass, lifting him slightly, angling him just right. And then—
Seonghwa’s entire body jolted.
The moment Hongjoong’s tongue dragged against that spot inside him, Seonghwa choked on a gasp, his nails pushing onto his own thighs. His body clenched, trembled, his breath catching in his throat. He could barely process it before his climax crashed over him like a tidal wave, unstoppable, uncontrollable.
Slick spilled from him in a sudden, overwhelming gush, drenching Hongjoong’s face, slicking down his chin and onto the snow below. And Hongjoong took it all—let it flood his mouth, let it coat his tongue, swallowing greedily like a man who had been starved for too long.
Hongjoong moaned against Seonghwa’s twitching, quivering hole, taking in every drop of the slick he was offering, swallowing him down greedily like it was the only thing capable of quenching his thirst. The warmth of it coated his tongue and face, and he knew, without a doubt—that he would never get enough of this. Never get enough of him.
He sealed his lips over Seonghwa’s entrance once more, determined to drink him down completely. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, taking a mouthful of slick, letting it pool on his tongue as he finally pulled back, straightening up with heavy-lidded eyes. He inhaled deeply, drinking in the sight of Seonghwa laid out beneath him—legs still trembling from the force of his orgasm, his hands gripping his thighs weakly as if he was struggling to hold himself together. His body, flushed and glistening with sweat, looked so utterly debauched, so thoroughly ruined, and all because of him.
A smirk tugged at Hongjoong’s lips as he wiped his face with his palm, feeling the wet sheen of Seonghwa’s essence clinging to his skin. But instead of cleaning it off, instead of ridding himself of it, he did the opposite.
Without hesitation, he dragged that same hand up to his hair, slicking back the strands, deliberately coating himself with Seonghwa’s slick, marking himself with it.
He wanted it to cling to him, to seep into his very being, so that when he returned back to the castle, everyone would know. They would smell Seonghwa on him, would know that he had claimed him, taken him, that Seonghwa belonged to him in the most primal, irrevocable way. There was no shame in it—only pride. He would never be ashamed to show off his mate. Let them know. Let them all know that Seonghwa belonged to him.
His gaze flickered back down to Seonghwa, watching the way he tried to catch his breath, the way his lips parted as if searching for more, needing more. Hongjoong drank it in the sight greedily, watching him with the intensity of a predator who had finally caught his prey.
Hongjoong leaned down, pressing his body over Seonghwa, feeling the warmth from his skin. He took hold of Seonghwa’s wrists, fingers curling around them gently yet firmly, unfolding his legs from where they had been locked up. The moment he spread him out, completely open beneath him, he captured his lips in a searing kiss.
Seonghwa gasped softly against his mouth, pliant and dazed, but Hongjoong didn’t give him a chance to fully register to think, to breathe, to process what was happening before he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping over Seonghwa’s lips, coaxing them apart.
The second his lips parted in surrender—
He let the slick he had been holding in his mouth spill into the kiss.
Seonghwa choked on a whimper, his entire body shuddering as the warm slick mixed with spit coated his tongue, as he tasted himself mixed with Hongjoong’s own intoxicating flavor. It was filthy. Obscene. But it was also unbearably hot. The realization of what was happening, of how utterly shameless Hongjoong was in his desire to make him taste himself—to share the experience of his own undoing—sent a fresh wave of arousal surging through him.
A moan tore from his throat, utterly unrestrained, and Hongjoong swallowed it greedily, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, to roll his tongue languidly against Seonghwa’s, to ensure that his taste was embedded into every crevice of him.
Hongjoong pulled back just enough to watch Seonghwa’s reaction, a dark chuckle escaping him at the way his mate was left panting, lips swollen and glistening, his body squirming beneath him. He reached down, pressing a possessive palm against Seonghwa’s stomach, rubbing gentle, teasing circles into the soft skin.
His eyes darkened with something primal, something possessive, as he murmured, voice thick with promise,
“Taste so fucking good, Hwa. Gonna breed you so full of me that you’ll be able to feel it bulge right here when we’re done.”
Seonghwa whimpered at the words, his back arching into Hongjoong’s touch, his hands weakly gripping at Hongjoong’s shoulders as if he needed to hold onto something—anything—to keep himself from falling apart completely. His eyes were glossy, dazed, lips parting as if to say something, but all that escaped was a breathless, desperate whine.
Hongjoong’s smirk widened as he pressed down more firmly against Seonghwa’s stomach, as if claiming the space before he even filled it. His mate was so utterly ruined beneath him, so beautifully submissive and eager, and yet Hongjoong knew he was only just beginning. There was so much more he wanted to do to him, so much more he wanted to hear. And judging by the way Seonghwa was already trembling, already pouring more slick onto the snow beneath them at just his words alone—
He knew his mate wanted it too.
Seonghwa felt the firm press of two fingers against his entrance, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the slick, quivering hole.
He whimpered into Hongjoong’s mouth, voice muffled by the heated kiss that had him spiraling deeper into helpless, trembling need. He barely had a moment to breathe before those fingers finally slid in, sinking into him with no resistance, his walls parting eagerly to welcome them. He was already so wet, so perfectly stretched from the attention Hongjoong had given him with his tongue. His hole clenched instinctively around the intrusion, desperate, needy, sucking Hongjoong’s fingers deeper.
Hongjoong swallowed each moan Seonghwa gave him, drinking in the way his mate’s body writhed beneath him, the way his thighs trembled and his breath hitched in choked gasps against his lips. He worked his fingers inside him, curling them, stretching him open, making sure he was completely, thoroughly prepared for what was to come. Seonghwa whimpered, hips jerking down to take more, but Hongjoong was relentless.
Even when Seonghwa gasped, “I’m ready—please, just—” Hongjoong silenced him with a deeper kiss, his tongue sliding against Seonghwa’s, tasting every whine that spilled from his throat.
He wasn’t done yet. He needed to make sure Seonghwa could take him—could take his knot.
And judging by the way his mate’s body twitched, by the high-pitched whines spilling from his lips, the way his slick gushed out every time Hongjoong curled his fingers just right—
Hongjoong knew Seonghwa had never done this before.
That thought alone nearly drove him feral.
Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to ruin him—to claim every untouched inch of him until Seonghwa belonged entirely, undeniably to him. But he forced himself to be slow, to take his time, to prepare his mate properly, even when his own body screamed at him to take.
His cock ached with unbearable need, desperate to sink into the heat that clenched around his fingers, but he waited. He stretched Seonghwa open, slipping in another finger, then another, his thumb pressing down on his stretched hole just to feel how much he could take.
Seonghwa, however, had had enough.
His voice was a breathless, needy plea, his fingers weakly gripping at Hongjoong’s shoulders, his thighs trembling on either side of his mate’s hips.
“My Alpha… please… breed me.”
Hongjoong froze.
His fingers stilled inside Seonghwa’s hole, his entire body tensing as he processed the words that had just spilled from those pretty, swollen lips. His breath came out in a harsh exhale, his vision darkening with raw, unfiltered desire. Never—never—had he expected someone so innocent, to say something so filthy. His control, already fraying, nearly snapped right then and there.
A guttural growl tore from his throat as he bent down and sank his teeth into Seonghwa’s shoulder, biting hard enough to leave deep impressions of his claim. He had to. He needed something—anything—to ground himself, to keep from snapping his hips forward and knotting Seonghwa right then and there.
Seonghwa whimpered, arching beneath him, his hands clawing at Hongjoong’s back, body tensing before melting completely, offering himself up without a fight. His head tilted instinctively, exposing more of his throat, giving Hongjoong more space to bite, to mark, to sink his claim deeper into his skin.
Sensing his mate’s unraveling, Seonghwa pushed further, his voice soft, sweet—deceptively sinful.
“Breed me full of your cum, Hongjoong.”
The words had barely left his mouth before Seonghwa found himself facing the snow below. It took him a moment to process what had just happened, the way the world had spun before he was suddenly face down, his breath hitching from the abrupt shift.
He barely had time to look back before a firm, unrelenting hand pressed between his shoulder blades, pinning him down. The contrast between the warmth of Hongjoong’s hand and the biting cold of the snow against his heated skin sent a violent shiver through his body. His nipples, now exposed to the frozen surface beneath him, adding to the overwhelming sensitivity flooding his senses.
But none of it compared to the sensation of Hongjoong’s hands seizing his ass, pushing it up before him so Seonghwa was in the presenting position. The rawest position known to their instincts. His breath stuttered as he felt those strong hands held his cheeks to spread him apart, exposing him completely to the man behind him.
He expected the press of Hongjoong’s cock, the stretch, the fullness, but what he didn’t expect was the sharp sting of teeth sinking into the plush flesh of his ass.
Seonghwa yelped, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as Hongjoong bit down, not just nipping at the surface but marking him, imprinting his claim with deep indentations of his teeth. The thought of getting claimed by Hongjoong made his thighs twitch.
“H-Hongjoong!!” Seonghwa moaned, pushing back into his mate’s hands, arching his back to push his ass higher.
A breathy chuckle ghosted over his skin, warm, teasing, before Seonghwa felt the heavy weight of Hongjoong’s cock settle between his spread cheeks. He didn’t need to see it—he could feel it. The sheer girth, the heat, the way it twitched against his skin, dragging slowly between the cleft of his ass, teasing him without giving him what he truly wanted.
Seonghwa went still, the reality of just how thick, just how massive Hongjoong was grinding onto him in a way that had his hole twitching in nervous anticipation. No wonder Hongjoong had taken his time preparing him, no wonder he had spent so long coaxing him open, stretching him carefully with his fingers and tongue.
Seonghwa’s breath came in uneven pants as Hongjoong pressed his cheeks together, enclosing his cock between them, creating a tight, warm space that made him groan above him. He began to move, dragging himself through the slick mess Seonghwa had made, his cock gliding effortlessly as he rutted between those trembling cheeks. Seonghwa clenched his fists into the snow, overwhelmed by the sensation. He had no idea when Hongjoong had even taken off his pants— too lost in his own pleasure to notice.
“F-fuck,” Seonghwa whimpered, his voice breathless, desperate. “Stop teasing—please—”
But Hongjoong only chuckled darkly, his grip tightening as he thrust between Seonghwa’s cheeks slowly, relishing in his mate’s desperation for him.
“Look at you,” Hongjoong rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction. “So fucking desperate, so needy for my cock.” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that had Seonghwa keening. “I should take my time, make you beg a little more. But you’re already soaking the fucking snow, aren’t you? Already ready to take me, aren’t you, baby?”
Seonghwa whimpered, his nails pushing into the frozen ground. “Y-yes! Please, Hongjoong, please—just—"
Seonghwa whined as the thick head of Hongjoong’s cock caught on his hole multiple times, the teasing friction making him shudder. He was so wet—so slick—that each brush only coaxed more of his arousal to spill out, instincts luring the Alpha closer, urging him to take what was his. He needed it. He needed Hongjoong to fuck him, to claim him, to make him his in every way that mattered.
“Put it in—please, Alp—”
Seonghwa couldn’t even finish his plea before Hongjoong snapped his hips forward, pushing inside in one smooth, merciless thrust, bottoming out in one go. Seonghwa’s eyes widened, his mouth parting, but no sound came out—his breath stolen by the overwhelming fullness, the searing stretch that made him feel like he was being molded around Hongjoong’s cock. He could feel everything—every ridge, every twitch so deep inside him that he swore once Hongjoong was done, his walls would take the very shape of him.
He clenched involuntarily, expecting Hongjoong to start moving—to thrust in and out, to wreck him—but the Alpha didn’t. He just stayed there, pushed to the hilt, keeping him so full it was maddening.
Hongjoong’s thick cock twitched inside him, leaking precum, stretching him wide, but he wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t pull out. Wouldn’t start fucking him. He was savoring it—savoring the way Seonghwa felt around him, savoring the tight, needy way his body clung to him, milking him even though he hadn’t even begun.
Seonghwa’s fingers curled into the snow, his whole body trembling, his walls clenching desperately around the length inside him, trying to force Hongjoong to move, to give him what he needed.
“Alpha,” he whimpered, pushing back onto him, arching, trying to fuck himself onto the cock that refused to move.
“Please."
Hongjoong groaned, a deep, guttural sound coming from him as he pressed himself flush against Seonghwa’s back. His hands pushed into the snow beside Seonghwa's head as he pushed his nose into his neck, breathing him in, scenting him, drowning in him. He was still fighting it—fighting the primal urge to mount him properly, to rut into him until all he could do was sob and take it. But Seonghwa made it impossible. The way his body gripped him.
And then Seonghwa clenched down—tight, desperate, milking him so exquisitely that Hongjoong felt his entire body jolt. A low moan slipped from his throat, his hips jerking forward of their own accord, grinding deep into him. The sensation sent hot pleasure searing through their spines.
“H-Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whined, pushing back, making his cock nudge against the sweetest, most sensitive spot inside him, forcing the Alpha to lose every ounce of control he had left.
And Hongjoong lost it.
Seonghwa heard a deep growl rumble against his ear before he felt cold on his back because of Hongjoong pushing up to let his hands clamp down on Seonghwa’s hips, his fingers pushing punishingly against the skin hard enough to bruise as he pulled back and slammed forward, seating himself so deep inside that Seonghwa choked on a cry.
Hongjoong barely gave him a second to adjust before he did it again—and again. Harder. Deeper. Until the only sounds between them were the slick, obscene noises of his cock plunging into his mate’s body and the sharp, breathless cries Seonghwa couldn’t hold back.
It was raw. Animalistic. A claiming so thorough, so unrelenting that it left no room for doubt—Seonghwa was his. His to take, his to fill, his to ruin. Every brutal snap of Hongjoong’s hips drove that point home, forcing Seonghwa to take every inch, every ridge dragging against his oversensitive walls.
Seonghwa sobbed into the snow, his body trembling, overwhelmed by the force of it all. It was too much—it was perfect. The pleasure was unbearable, stretching through him like liquid fire. He could do nothing but take it, helpless beneath the Alpha’s grip as his body was fucked into the snow below them.
Hongjoong was lost in it, in the way Seonghwa clenched around him, in the slick, obscene way his body took him so perfectly.
Hongjoong was relentless in his thrusts, each one precise, deep, curving just right to strike that one spot inside Seonghwa—the one he had never quite managed to find on his own, no matter how many nights he had spent with trembling fingers between his thighs.
The overwhelming pleasure wracked through him as he moaned into the snow, the cold bite against his flushed skin doing nothing to quell the need inside him. Over and over, Hongjoong drove into him, splitting him open, filling him so perfectly it felt like he had been sculpted for this, designed to take nothing but his Alpha’s cock.
The lewd squelching of his slick mixing with the steady slap of Hongjoong’s hips crashing against his own made Seonghwa’s mind reel. His arms trembled beneath him, useless against the sheer force pinning him down. He was lost to the sensation, to the relentless hold on his hips, the possessive claim of the Alpha behind him.
Seonghwa keened, his voice raw as another wave of slick gushed from his hole, pouring down onto the snow, melting it beneath them. He clenched down around Hongjoong, his body instinctively demanding more, needing more, craving the inevitable moment when Hongjoong would finally lose himself and knot him like he was meant to.
Seonghwa felt his thrust slow down, as Hongjoong leaned in close, pressing his front against his back, his lips brushing the shell of Seonghwa’s ear, voice a dark, intoxicating purr.
“It’s like you were made to take my cock.”
Seonghwa’s entire body jerked, his back arching as his second orgasm crashed over him without warning. His untouched cock twitched violently, spurting warm dribbles onto the snow beneath him, his body shuddering with the force of his release. He gasped, hands scrabbling against the ground, struggling to hold on as he trembled around Hongjoong, squeezing down on his cock so tight he swore he could feel every ridge, so overwhelming it made his mind blank completely.
But what ruined him the most, was the sensation of his own slick pooling inside him, trapped, unable to escape past the thick length stuffing him so full. In his previous orgasm he was able to squirt out all the slick pooled inside him. But now—now it had nowhere to go, sealed tight by Hongjoong’s sheer size, his stretched hole unable to do anything but quiver, stuffed beyond capacity. Every slight shift, every minute movement sent wet, filthy squelches echoing through the surroundings, evidence of just how much his body had given, how wrecked he had become.
Hongjoong groaned, his hands tightening around Seonghwa’s hips, keeping him flush against him, sealing him in place. He could feel the way the excess slick squished around him, desperate to spill out, but Hongjoong wouldn’t allow it. He ground his hips forward, pressing as deep as he could, refusing to let Seonghwa pull away. He wasn’t letting him move, wasn’t letting him slip off even a fraction of an inch. No, Seonghwa would take everything. Would keep every drop inside him. Would remain stretched around him until his body accepted it as natural.
Seonghwa whined, trembling, his oversensitive body twitching from the intensity of it all. He tried to shift, tried to move off Hongjoong’s cock to let the excess amount of slick out, but the Alpha growled low in his throat, shoving his hips down, pressing him even harder into the snow.
“You feel that?” Hongjoong taunted, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Seonghwa’s throat, his breath hot against the sweat-slicked flesh. “So much slick, baby. You’re soaking me, making such a fucking mess. It's begging to be let out.”
"Hongjoong... s-full... so full..." Seonghwa whimpered, his voice trembling from the unbearable fullness pressing against his insides. He was stuffed beyond reason, the weight of his own slick pooling inside him, stretching him in a way that left him shivering. Desperation took over, his trembling hand pushing weakly back at Hongjoong, wordlessly begging for something—release, movement, anything.
But Hongjoong merely huffed in amusement, holding Seonghwa’s hips firmly and positioning him back exactly as he was before with his ass higher in the air and face pushed down onto the snow. And then—he pulled out entirely.
Seonghwa gasped at the sudden emptiness, a whine catching in his throat as his stretched hole spasmed, trying to cling to something that was no longer there. And then—then he felt it. The slow, obscene trickle of slick seeping out of him, followed by a flood. A helpless cry left his lips as he felt the rush of liquid pour from his trembling hole in thick, glistening dribbles, streaking his thighs and staining the snow beneath him. His entire body jolted at the sensation of being so thoroughly emptied, his hole twitching and clenching on nothing, desperately pushing out every last drop that had been trapped inside him.
Hongjoong watched, utterly mesmerized. His eyes darkened, tongue coming out to lick his lips as he took in the sight of Seonghwa’s hole quivering, gaping, spilling every drop of slick onto the ground. His breath quickened as he fisted his own cock, jerking himself lazily to the sight of Seonghwa's messy, used body expelling all the excess slick that had been pent up inside him. He was utterly wrecked, twitching with overstimulation, his legs trembling where he was bent over in the snow. Hongjoong had never seen anything so fucking gorgeous.
Seonghwa shuddered, his body heating with embarrassment when he felt Hongjoong’s gaze pinned to his most vulnerable place. He peeked back over his shoulder, mortification sinking into his gut when he saw Hongjoong’s hand moving languidly over his own length to the sight of Seonghwa’s twitching, leaking hole.
A strangled whine left his lips, and before he could think, his hand shot back to cover himself.
“Stop looking!!” he whined into the snow, his voice breaking from shame.
The second the sight of the leaking hole was covered by Seonghwa's hand, hiding it from Hongjoong's gaze, Hongjoong growled behind him. He let go of his own cock and bent down by Seonghwa's hand covering his hole and bit down, sharp teeth clamped down on his delicate fingers .
“Ah! Hongjoong!!” he yelped, recoiling instantly, his hand snapping away from his own hole as a sharp sting shot through his finger from the bite.
Hongjoong leaned in close, his breath scorching against Seonghwa’s trembling skin. His voice came as a possessive purr, filled with dark promise.
“This right here?” he murmured, dragging his tongue over the sensitive hole. “It’s mine.”
Seonghwa gasped, his back arching sharply as his body shivered uncontrollably. Hongjoong pressed a slow, deliberate kiss against the quivering ring of muscle before biting down gently, possessively on it.
“Mine to see,” he growled, his tongue flicking over him again. “Mine to taste.” Another bite, sending jolts of sensation straight to Seonghwa’s already aching cock. “Mine to breed."
Seonghwa shuddered violently, Hongjoong’s filthy words carving themselves deep into his mind, branding him as surely as the tongue licking up at his hole.
“H-Hong—” Seonghwa tried, but the name barely passed his lips before a ragged, broken gasp tore from his throat.
Hongjoong didn’t give him time to recover. No time to adjust. One smooth, unrelenting thrust, and Hongjoong was inside him again, sheathing himself fully in one swift push that stole every ounce of breath from Seonghwa.
Seonghwa keened, his body jolting forward from the sheer force of it. But Hongjoong wasn’t stopping. He gripped Seonghwa’s waist in both hands, holding him steady, and then—
He really fucked him.
It was raw, merciless—pure, unrestrained claiming. Hongjoong’s thrusts slammed into him with punishing precision, each snap of his hips sending seismic waves of pleasure coursing through Seonghwa’s body. His cock dragged against the deepest, sweetest spots inside him, forcing out sobbed, delirious moans that echoed through the frigid air.
The force of Hongjoong’s thrusts shoved him forward against the snow, his trembling arms barely able to hold him up. His body could do nothing but take it—take every deep push, take every inch of his Alpha’s cock stretching him wider, filling him in ways that left him shaking.
Seonghwa sobbed out his pleasure, lost in it, consumed by it. His breath uneven, his mind slipping into a haze of pure, desperate need.
He never wanted it to stop.
Hongjoong fucked him so hard that Seonghwa could already feel his third orgasm building up, coiling tighter and tighter with every merciless thrust. His body molded to take everything the Alpha gave. There was no hesitation, no restraint—just pure, primal possession. Seonghwa had no doubt that Hongjoong was going to breed him well. His hole, slick and stretched, welcomed every push, clenching around the thick intrusion that owned him completely.
Hongjoong’s knot swelled as he pounded into him, stretching him wider, forcing his walls to accommodate its growing size. It was bigger than before—so much bigger—and Seonghwa felt it push at his hole with every thrust of Hongjoong's hips into him. The sensation sent him spiraling, his mind fogged with nothing but the feel of being filled, claimed and bred.
He needed to see it. The thought consumed him as his fingers twitched, desperate to reach back. With his voice wrecked from moaning, he managed to gasp between panting breaths.
"Alpha... want to see you."
Hongjoong pulled out immediately, and before Seonghwa could register the sudden emptiness, he was flipped onto his back, the cold of the snow kissing his back. A sharp gasp left his lips, but before he could do more than shiver, Hongjoong was already there—hovering above him, spreading his thighs, and pushing back inside in one smooth, desperate thrust.
Seonghwa’s body arched at the intrusion, a strangled moan spilling from his lips as he was filled again, stretched wide around Hongjoong’s thick cock. The sudden shift in position made everything more intense—the angle forcing him open even deeper, Hongjoong’s weight pressing down on him, trapping him beneath strong arms.
“Anything,” Hongjoong rasped, his lips brushing against Seonghwa’s as he spoke, the words thick with raw devotion, with need. His forehead pressed against Seonghwa’s, his breath warm and uneven.
“I would do anything for you.”
He wrapped Seonghwa up in his arms, holding him tight, skin to skin, their bodies pressed together in the closest, most intimate way possible. He rutted into him with deep, powerful thrusts, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside him, forcing wave after wave of pleasure through his trembling frame. His eyes locked with Seonghwa's as he fucked into him harder, deeper, wanting Seonghwa to feel him in his very soul.
Seonghwa’s legs instinctively hooked around Hongjoong’s waist, ankles locking behind him as he used the leverage to lift his hips, rolling up to meet every desperate snap of Hongjoong’s hips. It sent sharp jolts of pleasure tearing through them both, their bodies moving in perfect, frantic rhythm.
"M..close," Seonghwa whimpered, his arms winding tight around Hongjoong’s shoulders. His nails raked down the Alpha’s sweat-slicked back, clinging to him, grounding himself against the overwhelming pleasure. Hongjoong tilted his head, panting, pressing open-mouthed kisses along Seonghwa's jaw, his lips tracing along his throat, biting and sucking at his throat.
"Me too," Hongjoong groaned, his pace growing more purposeful, more demanding.
They were so close—so fucking close—and Seonghwa knew, in the next breath, the next thrust, he would shatter completely, falling apart with Hongjoong right behind him.
Hongjoong found the scent gland on Seonghwa’s neck, the sacred spot where his claiming mark would go. His breath was hot against Seonghwa’s flushed skin as he paused, searching his mate’s eyes for permission. Seonghwa, already trembling beneath him, gazed up with pupils blown wide, body taut with anticipation. And then, with a shuddering breath, he gave a small but decisive nod.
“My Alpha,” Seonghwa whispered, his voice hoarse, reverent, full of something even deeper than instinct.
The words shattered Hongjoong's restraint. His knot swelled impossibly thick at that simple, yielding declaration, a guttural groan tore from his throat as he pressed as he thrusted forward, grinding the knot right by his hole.
Seonghwa gasped as he felt Hongjoong shift above him, his mate’s strong hands coming up to cradle his face. But instead of biting down on his neck immediately, Hongjoong did something that made Seonghwa’s breath hitch entirely—he tilted his head to the side, exposing his own scent gland.
Seonghwa’s world seemed to blur around the edges. His mind swirled with overwhelming emotions. This was it. This was everything and more.
Hongjoong was offering himself. Offering his throat, his submission, his absolute devotion.
The unspoken words were clear: Claim me first.
"My Luna, my mate..my Seonghwa." Hongjoong rasped, voice rough with desire but soft with devotion as his fingers tangled into Seonghwa’s damp hair, pressing him closer, urging him forward.
Seonghwa’s lip trembled. He had never felt something this intense, this all-consuming. His mouth parted, his sharp canines aching with need, and then he sank them into Hongjoong’s exposed throat, piercing flesh, staking his claim, sealing their bond.
Hongjoong moaned above him, as his entire body jolted with the pleasure of being claimed. The overwhelming pleasure racked through him, his knot swelling fully as he pushed it inside, pressing himself flush against Seonghwa, locking them together completely. He trembled above Seonghwa, overcome with raw euphoria as his entire being surrendered to the bond being forged between them.
And then in the very same second, Hongjoong’s teeth found Seonghwa’s scent gland, sinking in deep, staking his claim as his mate.
Seonghwa let out a shattered cry as the sensation overtook him, the bond sealing, the pleasure too much, too good. He arched, nails raking desperately down Hongjoong’s back as his body spasmed, his untouched cock twitching between them before he came hard, his release spilling hot and sticky between their pressed bodies.
Hongjoong moaned against his neck, canines still in his scent gland, still holding him impossibly tight. His hips pressed flush against Seonghwa’s own, grinding his knot as deep as it could go. And then, with a shuddering moan, he tipped over the edge.
His cock twitched as thick, hot cum flooded Seonghwa’s insides, wave after wave of warmth filling him so completely he swore he could feel it in his very soul. Hongjoong groaned, his hips grinding forward instinctively to push it all deeper, to make sure every last drop of his seed stayed inside where it belonged.
There was so much. Seonghwa could feel it, thick and heavy, the insane amount of it making his belly bulge slightly. His own slick, trapped deep inside and now thoroughly mixed with Hongjoong’s cum, only added to the fullness. A shiver ran down his spine as realization settled in—Hongjoong had promised to make it bulge, and he had.
Seonghwa whimpered, body still trembling in the aftermath, overwhelmed by everything—the bond, the heat, the fullness, the undeniable sense of belonging that had wrapped around them both like an unbreakable chain. His fingers curled into Hongjoong’s damp hair, anchoring himself as his Alpha shuddered against him, both of them lost in the haze of their mating.
After a moment, they both retracted their canines from each other, their lips parting only to lap at the fresh bite marks, cleaning them slowly with their tongues. Seonghwa shuddered at the sensation, a warmth blooming from his neck and spreading through his entire body, leaving him dazed in the aftershocks of their union.
Hongjoong kissed along his claimed mark, his lips brushing over it with a tenderness that sent shivers through Seonghwa. He nuzzled deeper into Seonghwa’s neck, inhaling the mingling scents of their bond, his breath hot against Seonghwa’s flushed skin.
Seonghwa giggled, the sound light and airy, an innocent contrast to the hunger that had consumed them only moments before. Hearing it, Hongjoong’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. He lifted Seonghwa’s chin with gentle fingers and captured his lips in a kiss—slow, unhurried, savoring him, tasting the remnants of their passion still lingering on his tongue.
"I'm yours forever," Hongjoong murmured, his voice thick with devotion, heavy with promise.
Seonghwa felt his eyes brim with emotions threatening to spill. To him those words carried a weight that went beyond the simple affirmation of love. He swallowed past the tears and pressed his forehead against Hongjoong’s, breathing him in.
“Forever,” Seonghwa whispered, his voice soft but resolute. “I’m yours."
They kissed again, lost in each other, in the warmth of their bodies still intertwined, until Hongjoong’s knot softened and he was able to slide free.
A wet, obscene sound filled the air, followed by a flood of warmth slipping from Seonghwa’s hole. The moment Hongjoong pulled out, he paused, watching with rapt attention as thick, pearly streaks of his own seed dribbled from Seonghwa’s use hole, leaking out in slow, sinful trails.
A sharp inhale. A deep frown. And then—
Hongjoong made a face, his lips curling into a dissatisfied pout, his brows furrowing like a child whose favorite treat had been stolen right before his eyes.
Seonghwa, despite the pleasant soreness in his spent body, burst into laughter—a full-bodied, breathless laugh that shook his shoulders. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. This was the same Alpha who had fucked him senseless in the snow, the strongest dragon to ever take flight—and here he was, sulking because his cum was spilling out of his mate.
Snickering, Seonghwa got up to sit in between his legs with his back to Hongjoong's front to bask in the afterglow. But just as he relaxed, he felt Hongjoong nuzzle into his ear from behind, his lips brushing soft kisses along the shell, a low grumble of discontent vibrating in his throat.
“Look at you pouting,” Seonghwa teased, his laughter muffled as he nuzzled back against Hongjoong.
Still pouting, Hongjoong wrapped his arms tightly around him. his lips finding the shell of Seonghwa’s ear. Hongjoong’s lips hovered against his ear, his voice dropping into a low, petulant murmur. "Can I stay inside you to keep everything where it belongs?"
Seonghwa’s eyes widened. He turned his head slightly, staring at Hongjoong as if he had just grown a second pair of wings. How could someone be this filthy while wearing such a ridiculously adorable pout? He looked like a kicked puppy. A stupid, needy, sex-starved puppy.
Seonghwa exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering in his gaze. And then, a thought crossed Seonghwa's mind,wicked, playful, and entirely reckless.
Shifting in Hongjoong’s lap, he deliberately rubbed his sore backside against the Alpha’s rapidly hardening cock. His movements were slow, teasing, sinful as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Hongjoong’s jaw as he whispered, voice honeyed and sultry,
"Or... you could fill me up again."
Hongjoong stiffened.
For a fraction of a second, his mind blanked—until realization dawned, and with it, a dark, consuming hunger reignited in his eyes. His hands, which had been loosely resting on Seonghwa’s waist, suddenly tightened, fingers pushing into the soft flesh as a dangerous smirk played across his lips.
“You,” he said slowly, voice thick with amusement and promise, “are going to regret saying that.”
Seonghwa only giggled in response, delighted by the way Hongjoong’s expression changed into one of determination. Before he could blink, before he could so much as take another breath, Hongjoong tackled him into the snow, flipping them over in one swift movement, pinning him down with his weight.
Their bodies rolled together, pleasure igniting all over again as they gave in to the pull of instinct, of want, of need. Time became meaningless, lost in the haze of pleasure, in the rhythm of their bodies moving as one—mating again and again, over and over, until the sun dipped below the horizon, like an offering to the night, a silent witness to their endless, insatiable desire.
-----
To say that Seonghwa was exhausted was an understatement. His entire body felt like it had melted into the snow beneath him as he barely managed to move, the soreness between his legs a constant reminder of just how thoroughly Hongjoong had taken him.
And yet—
Seonghwa sucked in a sharp breath, thighs jolting as a wet, warm tongue flicked over his sensitive hole once more.
"Hongjoong—enough!" he gasped, voice hoarse, spent. He tried to close his legs, to push away the persistent Alpha who was still nestled between them, but Hongjoong only growled against his skin, shoving his face deeper, licking into him.
Seonghwa whined, body twitching in oversensitivity as the sensation bordered between pleasure and torment. "No more!" he whimpered, reaching down to thread his fingers through Hongjoong's hair and tug him away. But instead of obeying, Hongjoong let out a low, petulant whine, lips glossy with the mix of their combined essence.
Seonghwa huffed, still panting, and took hold of Hongjoong's flushed face between his trembling hands, as he murmured, "We can do more… when you take me back with you."
Hongjoong groaned, low and deep, pressing closer, nipping at Seonghwa’s lower lip as though he were barely restraining himself. His arms circled Seonghwa’s waist, keeping him locked in place, unwilling to let go. "I don’t want to go back yet," he grumbled against Seonghwa’s neck, nuzzling into the fresh mating mark, tongue flicking over it possessively. "Not when you're still warm, still mine, still smelling like me."
Seonghwa sighed, running his fingers through Hongjoong’s damp hair. "We have to go back. Everyone must have already arrived at the castle."
Hongjoong ignored him, lips moving lazily along Seonghwa’s throat, his hold tightening.
"The king will be rounding up everyone to register the new clan members," Seonghwa reminded him, trying to shift away, though the attempt was feeble. He was still too drained to truly fight Hongjoong’s hold, and the Alpha knew it.
"Fuck them," Hongjoong growled, lips pressed on Seonghwa’s neck as he lapped at the mating mark again and again.
Seonghwa was sure he was littered in hickeys, bites, and the imprints of Hongjoong’s hands branding every inch of his skin. A physical evidence to the successful completion of the mating flight ritual. He let out a breathless chuckle at the thought, shaking his head as he pushed at Hongjoong in an attempt to pry him off. The Alpha grumbled in protest but eventually rolled off him, sprawling onto the snow with an exaggerated huff.
Stretching his sore limbs, Seonghwa sat up, arching his back with a quiet sigh. His muscles ached deliciously, with the remnants of their coupling. He barely had time to process the sensation before he felt a heated gaze burning into his skin. Turning his head slightly over his shoulder, he caught Hongjoong’s intense stare, the smirk on his lips a clear sign that he was already scheming something.
"What?" Seonghwa asked, suspicious of the glint in his Alpha’s eyes.
Instead of answering right away, Hongjoong’s smirk only deepened. He lifted a hand and ran a single fingertip from Seonghwa’s marked-up neck down to his waist, following the curve of his body. Goosebumps erupted in the wake of his touch, heat curling in his stomach despite himself.
"You are so beautiful," Hongjoong murmured, his voice like molten honey, thick with adoration.
Seonghwa felt the words settle deep in him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. He turned his face away quickly, refusing to meet Hongjoong’s intense gaze as a soft blush crept up his cheeks.
Clearing his throat, he muttered, "Well, I guess you’re handsome too."
Hongjoong let out an amused chuckle, but it was his next move that sent a shiver straight to Seonghwa’s core. He sat up behind him, pressing a lingering kiss against the nape of his neck, his lips grazing over the fresh mating mark. Seonghwa stiffened slightly, feeling Hongjoong’s smirk against his skin before he murmured.
"You look even more beautiful covered in my cu—"
Before Hongjoong could finish the sentence, Seonghwa’s hand shot out, smacking Hongjoong's hand with enough force to make the Alpha laugh. The sharp sound of Hongjoong’s amusement filled the space between them, deep and carefree.
Hongjoong stood up first, stretching his sore muscles before reaching down to help Seonghwa to his feet. The moment Seonghwa tried to stand, however, Hongjoong noticed the way his legs trembled, barely holding his weight. His entire body was marked in evidence of Hongjoong’s insatiable hunger. His skin was littered in bruises, hickeys, and deep crescents.
A satisfied smirk curled at his lips, but he quickly pushed it away. Seonghwa was clearly exhausted. They still had to make their way back to the castle, and with how drained his mate looked, making him transform was out of the question. Hongjoong knew exactly what he had to do.
"You can ride me," he offered casually, watching as Seonghwa's expression went utterly blank.
His wide eyes snapped to Hongjoong, absolute disbelief flashing across his features as he processed the words that had just left the Alpha’s mouth. He must have misheard. There was no way. Had they not just spent what felt like an eternity entangled in each other. Pushed past every conceivable limit until Seonghwa was left trembling and wrecked beneath him? Had Hongjoong not spent hours pushed deep inside him, filling him over and over again?
Yet this man had the audacity to suggest—
Hongjoong, upon seeing the absolutely scandalized look on Seonghwa’s face, he could swear he saw gears in his head running, the disbelief and exasperation rolling off of him in waves. His teeth gleamed as he shook his head, clearly enjoying how thoroughly he had flustered his mate.
“I meant I’ll transform,” Hongjoong clarified, his voice still colored with amusement. “You can sit on my nape, and I’ll fly us both to the castle so you don’t have to shift.”
Seonghwa blinked.
Then, realization hit, his lips parting in a small ‘o’ as the words finally registered. He let out a heavy exhale, rubbing at his temples as if to rid himself of the embarrassment creeping up his spine. His shoulders slumped, exhaustion finally winning over his pride.
“…Alright,” he relented, still slightly suspicious, but far too tired to argue. “That… actually sounds nice.”
But just as Hongjoong was about to step back, he couldn’t help himself—his teasing nature reared its head once more. With a smirk, he leaned in close, voice dropping into a lower, more suggestive tone.
“I mean,” Hongjoong started, voice dropping into that deep, knowing purr that sent a shiver straight down Seonghwa’s spine. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to ride me again right now.”
Seonghwa felt his breath catch, a sharp intake of air betraying him as heat immediately rushed to his face. His stomach clenched at the audacity of this man, at the way he spoke so open, so brazenly. The Alpha on the other hand was utterly delighted by how easily he could reduce Seonghwa to a blushing mess with just his words alone.
He shot the Alpha a sharp glare, lips pressing into a thin line, but Hongjoong only grinned wider, absolutely reveling in the reaction he had coaxed out of him.
Hongjoong took both of Seonghwa’s hands in his own, stepping closer until their foreheads gently touched. For a brief moment, Seonghwa thought he was about to apologize—or say something meaningful, something profound. But oh, how wrong he was. Because the next words that left Hongjoong’s mouth made him want to take flight and never look back.
“Maybe next time,” Hongjoong murmured, his breath fanning against Seonghwa’s lips, “We can do it as dragons.”
Seonghwa’s entire body went rigid.
His entire body went stiff, his eyes widening in sheer horror. For a split second, his brain refused to even comprehend the implications of that statement—because surely, Hongjoong wasn’t serious. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting—
"Absolutely the fuck not!" Seonghwa blurted, recoiling so fast he nearly stumbled over himself. He violently yanked his hands away from Hongjoong’s grasp, his entire face red with mortified embarrassment. He shoved the Alpha away with enough force to make him stumble back a step, as if physically rejecting the idea would somehow erase it from existence.
Hongjoong, far too entertained, only burst into laughter, the deep, rumbling sound echoing through the clearing. He held his stomach, doubling over as his amusement overwhelmed him, shaking with mirth at Seonghwa’s absolutely scandalized reaction.
Seonghwa scowled, his arms crossing tightly over him, as his entire body flushed in secondhand embarrassment. “You are absolutely insufferable,” he hissed.
“And yet,” Hongjoong drawled, still grinning like a smug asshole, “You still let me mate you.”
Seonghwa let out the most exasperated groan known to mankind, throwing his head back in frustration, as he dragged a hand down his face, forcibly ignoring the Alpha’s presence.
“Just hurry up and transform,” he gritted out, every word dripping in barely contained exasperation. “It’s almost midnight.”
Hongjoong chuckled, his voice rich with amusement as he took a few steps back, his hands raised in mock surrender. "I'm kidding," he said, the smirk still lingering on his lips. Then, with a fluid grace, he turned and strode toward the clearing, giving Seonghwa enough space.
Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong’s muscles flexed beneath his skin, the sharp tension of his body easing as he prepared to shift. The air grew thick with power, a thrumming energy crackling through the atmosphere like an impending storm. And then—
A gust of wind surged outward as Hongjoong’s form began to change. Scales, dark as midnight and gleaming under the pale moonlight, erupted across his skin in a mesmerizing cascade. His arms stretched and shifted, transforming into massive wings that unfurled—towering, powerful, casting an imposing shadow over the snow-covered ground.
Seonghwa could do nothing but stare as those very wings flexed, their immense size enough to send flurries of snow spiraling through the air with each movement. The once-familiar figure of Hongjoong, replaced by a beast of legend, a dragon so massive he looked as if he could darken the skies with a single flap of his wings.
Then came the tail, long and thick, cutting through the snow as it curled around his feet like a serpent ready to strike. Razor-sharp claws gouged into the earth beneath them, each talon glinting like a polished blade. Seonghwa barely had the chance to process it all before he lifted his gaze and found himself staring into the deep, molten amber of Hongjoong’s dragon eyes.
They were mesmerizing—intense, intelligent, filled with possessiveness as they stared at Seonghwa.
For a moment, all Seonghwa could do was drink in the sight of him, utterly entranced by the sheer dominance exuding from every inch of his dragon form. The tremendous magnitude of his presence was enough to make anyone tremble, to bow before him in instinctual submission.
But then, against his will, a different thought slithered its way into Seonghwa’s mind—one that had nothing to do with awe and everything to do with what Hongjoong had teased him about moments ago.
The idea of doing it as dragons.
His face ignited with heat as an image flared to life in his mind so fast it was a wonder he didn’t combust on the spot. Massive frames tangled together, scales pressed flush, Hongjoong’s powerful form caging him in, wings flaring as he would growl possessively against his throat. A heat so intense it could melt the very air around them—
No, Absolutely not. He would not let his mind wander down that road. Not when Hongjoong was already insufferable enough without knowing what kind of thoughts he was unintentionally planting in Seonghwa’s head.
Shaking his head furiously as if to physically rid himself of the thought, Seonghwa forced himself to focus. But even as he tried to compose himself, he couldn’t ignore the way his breath quickened—or the way Hongjoong’s massive dragon form was still watching him, those golden eyes gleaming with something akin to amusement. And worst of all, Seonghwa could tell, with absolute certainty, that Hongjoong knew exactly what was going on in his head.
Damn it.
Seonghwa watched as the dragon bent down, lowering its massive head until it was mere inches from his legs, making it easier for him to climb atop. Seonghwa thinks that Hongjoong's dragon would never fail to steal the breath—the towering wings, the massive size and the sinuous tail that curled lazily behind him. But now, as Hongjoong bowed his head in a silent invitation, all Seonghwa could think about was how he could feel the dragon’s warm breath washing over him in steady, rumbling exhales.
For a moment, Seonghwa only looked at the dragon in front of him. Then, with a small smile, he lifted a hand, resting it gently against the rough, scaled face. The texture was coarse beneath his fingertips, ancient and untamed. With a soft breath, Seonghwa leaned forward and pressed a quick, appreciative kiss to the warm scales, a simple gesture of thanks for the effort Hongjoong was making for him.
He barely had time to pull back before the dragon’s mouth parted slightly, a low, rumbling exhale escaping between razor-sharp teeth, making his instincts prickle in warning.
Seonghwa blinked.
Before he could even register what was happening, a long, sinuous tongue shot out and dragged up his entire body in one slow, deliberate swipe—from the length of his legs, across his torso, until it finally slathered over his face, soaking him in a thick, sticky layer of dragon spit.
For a long, horrified second, Seonghwa could only stand there, utterly frozen, his limbs stiff with shock. His face, his body—everything was drenched in saliva. He could feel it clinging to his skin, dropping from his chin in humiliating globs.
“Hongjoong!!” he shrieked, the name leaving his lips in a furious, mortified yell, raw with indignation, fury, and utter disbelief.
But Hongjoong—
The massive dragon merely huffed, small puffs of hot air escaping his nostrils, the unmistakable sound of amusement. Seonghwa could see it in those molten gold eyes—the same insufferable mischief, the same wicked glee that Hongjoong wore when teasing him.
His jaw dropped. The audacity of this overgrown lizard. The asshole was laughing at him.
“I am not doing this!” he huffed, turning sharply on his heel. He was not about to travel back to the castle drenched in spit, humiliated beyond belief, like some poor, prey animal. He would shift into his own dragon form and fly himself back like the proud, independent creature he was—dignity intact.
Or at least, that had been his plan.
He barely took two steps before that same tongue slithered out once more, creeping up behind him like a serpent before wrapping itself around his waist in a firm, unyielding grip.
Seonghwa’s eyes widened in horror.
He glanced down.
“Hongjoong—NO—”
With one swift, effortless motion, the tongue reeled him back in, dragging him toward the smug dragon like a captured meal. He let out a strangled noise of protest, hands clawing at the wet muscle in an attempt to pry himself free, but it was no use—Hongjoong was far too strong, far too big.
“This is so humiliating!!” Seonghwa seethed, struggling against the strong, wet muscle. His hands shoved against the thick, slick tongue, trying desperately to escape.
“Let me go this instant! Or I swear—” he gasped, finally finding his leverage, “—I swear I won’t let you breed me when we get back!”
The reaction was instant.
Hongjoong, the massive dragon who had just manhandled him like a toy, suddenly lowered his head, pressing it against the ground in complete and utter surrender. His wings tucked in. Staring at Seonghwa with something dangerously close to pleading.
Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, wiping a glob of spit from his cheek as he took in the sight before him. So that’s what it took to get the mighty dragon to listen, huh?
With a dramatic sigh, he trudged toward the dragon, knowing there was no escaping this now. He was drenched in spit. He refused to show up to the castle looking like something that had just crawled out of a swamp.
“I’m wiping this off in your fur,” he announced, completely unapologetic, before starting to climb up onto Hongjoong’s lowered head.
Seonghwa trembled slightly as he began his climb, his fingers grasping onto the dragon’s horns for balance. Just as he was about to steady himself, Hongjoong’s tongue flicked out once again, curling just under Seonghwa’s rear to give him a push upwards.
Seonghwa gasped, scandalized. “Hey!!” he sputtered, twisting around mid-climb, his cheeks burning. His hands instinctively tightened their grip on the horns, his balance wobbling as he shot a glare at the smug beast beneath him. He knew exactly what Hongjoong was doing—this wasn’t about helping him climb; the insufferable Alpha just wanted another excuse to lick him.
Settling onto Hongjoong’s nape, Seonghwa exhaled, feeling the contrast between the dragon’s rough, battle-worn scales and the soft tufts of fur lining his nape. He wasted no time in rubbing himself against the downy fur, wiping away the sticky residue of dragon spit that clung to his skin.
Below him, Hongjoong let out another pleased sound, something between a purr and a laugh, as if completely reveling in the fact that his mate was using him in such a way.
Seonghwa scowled. “Not. A. Word,” he muttered, giving the fur one last wipe for good measure before settling properly, as Seonghwa patted at his head, signaling that he was finally ready.
The dragon lifted his head at once, powerful wings unfurling wide. The gusts of wind kicked up by each powerful beat sent snowflakes scattering around them in a swirling dance as Hongjoong gathered momentum. With each rhythmic flap of his wings, they rose higher and higher, until the ground was nothing more than a blur beneath them.
The night sky stretched endlessly above, a vast expanse of black velvet scattered with shimmering stars. Each one flickered, silent and unbothered by the world below.
From this height, the world below seemed silent, insignificant, the chaos of the past days nothing more than a memory. The wind rushed past them, the cold bite of the altitude softened by the warmth of Hongjoong’s fur beneath him. Without thinking Seonghwa bent forward, pressing himself flush against the dragon’s nape, seeking out that warmth, that safety, that connection to his mate.
Mate.
The thought whispered through him, sending a slow, creeping heat curling in him. The dragon beneath him—was his mate. Hongjoong was his mate. His fingers lifted, almost unconsciously, to trace the still-fresh mating mark on his own neck. The moment his fingers brushed over the sensitive bite, Hongjoong let out a deep, pleased rumble, a sound that vibrated through his entire form.
Seonghwa stilled. Had Hongjoong just reacted to his touch? Could he feel what he was thinking? The realization made something stir within him, a deep, unspoken understanding settling in him. Mated. Bonded. Linked in ways that went beyond the physical. The flight felt so peaceful like it was what he needed.
As they approached the castle, Hongjoong let out a low, guttural sound—his way of warning Seonghwa that they arrived. Seonghwa sat up slightly, adjusting himself as the dragon's wings angled for a smooth landing.
From the altitude he was in, Seonghwa could see the castle sprawling beneath him, its grand structure illuminated by the soft glow of torches and moonlight. The ground was filled with
movement—figures gathering in clusters, some mere specks in the distance, others unmistakably large dragons perched or prowling around the open fields.
Hongjoong rounded the castle a couple of times, his massive wings slicing through the air with ease, the power of each flap creating gusts that stirred the snow below. And then, with a prideful swell in him, he let out a triumphant roar that echoed across the sky, a declaration of victory, of possession, of securing his mate for all to witness.
The response was immediate. Roars and rumbles rose to meet his own, a chorus of approval from those awaiting their return. Below, figures raised their heads, watching in awe as the largest dragon of their time roared and landed in a display of unparalleled strength and majesty.
Seonghwa’s eyes darted through the gathered crowd, quickly picking out familiar faces. Wooyoung and San stood amongst their clan, their expressions ranging from smug amusement to open-mouthed astonishment. Members of both clans were present, watching with wide eyes and hushed whispers, the sheer size of Hongjoong’s dragon form striking awe in those who didn't see him before. He then spotted his own clan’s Alpha and Luna standing at the forefront. Their hands clapped together in approval.
Seonghwa barely had time to process the overwhelming reception before a sharp whistle cut through the air, slicing straight through the moment like a dagger. Heat rushed to his face in a mortified wave.
He didn’t need to look to know who was responsible—Wooyoung, ever the instigator, had just ensured that every pair of eyes in the courtyard was now firmly on him. A deep, burning flush spread across his cheeks as he shrank against the thick, warm fur at the base of Hongjoong’s head, as if he could somehow disappear into it and escape the embarrassment.
Desperate to regain some sense of dignity, he reached forward, patting Hongjoong’s massive head—a silent command to let him down. But the dragon beneath him remained standing tall. He didn’t lower his head, nor did he shift back into his human form, and the lack of response sent a flicker of confusion through Seonghwa. He leaned in slightly, voice just loud enough to be heard over the murmuring crowd.
“Let me down, Alpha,” he urged, the title slipping past his lips in quiet insistence.
Still, Hongjoong did not obey. Instead, he let out a deep, rumbling huff, warm breath gusting from his nostrils. Instead of obeying, his gaze flickered toward San. And, as if they had planned it in advance, San was already moving, expertly weaving through the gathered onlookers with a bundle of neatly folded fabric in his arms.
Realization dawned in a second.
Hongjoong wasn’t keeping him up here out of stubbornness. He wasn’t refusing to let him down to be difficult. He was shielding him because he was naked.
His entire body ignited with mortification, and he had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming.
During the peace of moment with Hongjoong, he had been so distracted, so caught up in their return, that he hadn’t even thought to summon the membrane of his own to cover himself. A mistake. A foolish oversight. Yet before anyone could so much as catch a glimpse, before he even had the chance to feel exposed, Hongjoong had already acted—lifting him out of reach, keeping him perched safely above the crowd, shielding him from every prying eye below.
Seonghwa clenched his jaw, swallowing hard against the emotions that swelled in him. Embarrassment still burned hot beneath his skin, but beneath that, something else curled warm and tight—the undeniable weight of being cared for. Hongjoong had done this without hesitation, without being asked. Without a word, he had ensured that no one, not even their closest allies, would see what only he was meant to claim.
San threw the bundle of clothes with a sharp flick of his wrist, and Seonghwa, still perched atop Hongjoong’s massive dragon form, caught them effortlessly. His fingers trembled slightly as he hastily pulled the garments over his still-warm skin, his body aching in places he refused to acknowledge at the moment. The moment he was fully clothed, Hongjoong let out a low, guttural snarl that had the surrounding onlookers taking a cautious step back. The possessiveness in that sound made it abundantly clear that the Alpha did not appreciate the prying eyes lingering on his mate.
“I’m done,” Seonghwa hurriedly announced, not wanting Hongjoong to escalate into outright violence. The instant the words left his mouth, Hongjoong lowered his head, allowing Seonghwa to climb down with far more care than he expected. His feet touched the ground, but he barely had a moment to adjust before Hongjoong shifted beside him. The transformation was seamless, fluid, as if the Alpha was shedding one glorious form for another.
Seonghwa barely had the chance to look before San, ever prepared, was already standing at Hongjoong’s side, extending another bundle of clothes. But, true to his nature, Hongjoong took his time pulling them on, moving with an utter lack of shame that had Seonghwa simultaneously scandalized and begrudgingly impressed. His gaze trailed, against his better judgment, over the expanse of Hongjoong’s back—and his breath hitched at the sight.
Marks. His nail marks.
Deep, vivid, crisscrossing lines of ownership painted across Hongjoong’s skin, standing stark against the toned muscle beneath. Seonghwa knew exactly who had put them there. He could still feel his nails dragging across Hongjoong's flesh, still remember the way Hongjoong had groaned because of him.
San let out a sharp whistle the moment his eyes landed on the nail marks, his lips curling into a teasing grin as his gaze flickered between them.
Seonghwa’s eyes widened, a small gasp escaping him before he could stop it. His nails dug into his palms as he fought the instinct to look away, to pretend he hadn’t just seen the evidence of his own desperation branded into Hongjoong’s skin.
His embarrassment only deepened when Hongjoong, with all the arrogance in the world, turned his head just enough to meet his gaze over his shoulder—smirking as he was getting dressed. Slowly he raised a hand to his hair, slicking it back to remind Seonghwa of what made them damp in the first place.
Seonghwa knew exactly what had soaked Hongjoong’s hair, exactly what he had done to cause it. And judging by the way Hongjoong’s fingers dragged through the strands, so did he.
Hongjoong wasn’t just showing off—he was owning it.
There wasn’t a single flicker of shame in his expression, not an ounce of hesitation in the way he stretched, letting the marks Seonghwa had raked across his back catch the light. Hongjoong could have summoned his own membrane to cover himself in an instant if he wanted to—but he didn’t. He had no intention of hiding. He wanted the marks to be seen, seen by everyone. He was standing there, claimed beyond question, drenched in his mate’s scent, and utterly unapologetic about it.
Smirking like he knew exactly what was going through Seonghwa’s mind at that very moment. Seonghwa felt his face heat at the silent acknowledgement, the weight of Hongjoong’s smirk sinking into him.
Desperate to look anywhere else, his eyes darted away—only to lock directly with Wooyoung’s.
The sound of cheers and whistles filled the air as Seonghwa’s gaze drifted to Wooyoung, who let out a low, knowing whistle after catching sight of the deep, unmistakable marks littering Hongjoong’s back. Seonghwa barely had time to process his embarrassment before his eyes locked onto the mating bite on Wooyoung’s neck, San’s scent wrapped thickly around him like a second skin.
“I guess we belong in the same clan now, my Luna,” Wooyoung mused, his voice teasing yet sincere. Seonghwa’s face flushed scarlet, the weight of those words sinking into him.
Before he could gather himself, a strong, familiar hand slid around his waist, pulling him flush against Hongjoong, who now stood fully clothed, exuding effortless dominance. Seonghwa barely had time to react before Wooyoung bowed deeply in respect to Hongjoong, acknowledging him as the clan Alpha. San soon joined his side, a knowing smile tugging at his lips as he leaned against his mate.
As they moved towards Hongjoong’s clan, the sight before Seonghwa stole his breath. Every member of the clan, including Wooyoung and San, lowered themselves in a show of unwavering loyalty, bowing in deference to their Alpha and their Luna. Seonghwa felt tears brim up to his eyes at the uttermost respect shown to him. Seonghwa also saw that almost all of the clan members had found mates. Hongjoong’s clan had grown, doubled in strength through their new bonds. It was a sight to behold, an unspoken declaration of power and unity
Following Hongjoong’s lead, Seonghwa mirrored the bow, acknowledging the respect given. A gentle tug at his waist had him turning to face Hongjoong, who subtly gestured toward the Dragon King waiting to officially register their union. Seonghwa swallowed thickly and followed as they approached the front, where not only the king stood but his own former Alpha and Luna as well.
Warmth enveloped Seonghwa as his former Luna pulled him into a tight embrace, her voice filled with pride. “I knew you would give it a try, Seonghwa." She smiled at him before looking towards his mate. "And Hongjoong seems very lovely.”
Seonghwa glanced towards his mate, who was already deep in conversation with the Dragon king. He looked back at his Luna, dipping his head slightly in gratitude. “He is. Thank you, Luna, for making me do this.”
The Luna chuckled, giving him a gentle push forward. “Anytime, Seonghwa. Now go, your mate is waiting.”
Seonghwa turned just in time to see Hongjoong standing amidst his clan members. When their eyes met, Hongjoong didn’t hesitate, extending his hand, silently beckoning him forward. Seonghwa didn’t just walk—he all but launched himself into Hongjoong’s arms, earning a deep, rumbling laugh from his mate as strong arms lifted him off the ground. Hongjoong spun him in a twirl, his laughter mixing with Seonghwa’s delighted giggles before setting him down, his hand never leaving Seonghwa’s waist.
The atmosphere buzzed, the entire clan bursting into cheers and greetings, welcoming Seonghwa into their fold with warmth and open arms. Laughter and conversation filled the air, the bonds of the clans strengthening around them.
The closing announcement of the mating flights was made, signaling the official end of the sacred event, and a thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd. The grand banquet commenced once more, tables overflowing with food and drink as the celebration began anew.
Seonghwa had just begun to move to eat when Hongjoong’s fingers curled around his wrist, halting him in place. Before Seonghwa could protest or even question, he was spun around with a firm tug, and the next thing he knew, Hongjoong’s lips were on his, kissing him in front of the entire gathering.
A burst of whistles and hoots broke through the air at the sight of their Alpha and his Luna locked in such an unmistakable declaration of the bond. The sound only grew louder when Hongjoong tilted Seonghwa’s head, deepening the kiss, as if ensuring that no one could ever doubt who Seonghwa belonged to now.
When they parted, Hongjoong didn’t pull away entirely. Instead, he hovered close, so close that Seonghwa could feel the words before they were even spoken, his breath warm against his lips as he murmured,
“The stars can fade, the earth can crumble. With every mark on my skin, with every whisper of your name—you are my Luna, my pride, my love, my Seonghwa. ”
Seonghwa’s throat tightened, the words lost before they could even form. Instead of speaking, he curled his fingers into Hongjoong's clothes and pulled him in for a kiss, sealing their lips together once more.
A kiss that spoke where words failed him—pouring every ounce of emotion, every unsaid feeling into it.
In this moment, with Hongjoong’s lips against his own, he knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.