Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I can’t believe they are actually taking you away.” Jisung says for the hundredth and final time.

“You have to start believing it, my friend. The majority of my luggage is already loaded and I fear Yongbok is in no state to help you through your delusions.” Seungmin puts a hand on Yongbok’s shoulder, consoling his crying friend.

“This isn’t fair,” Yongbok complains, “Jisung and I will be terribly lonely just the two of us.”

“Quit sulking, please. You know my brother is coming in the next few weeks and he comes in great company. There will be plenty to do with them to keep your minds busy and away from thoughts of me.”

“Since when is Changbin a suitable replacement for you?” Jisung asks.

“I never suggested he was, but I’m sure the two of you will make do.”

“Your Highness,” calls the man who was previously overseeing the loading of the carriage, “we are finished with the luggage.”

“Ah, thank you, Youngki. I am finished with my goodbyes also.”

“You are not!” Yongbok jumps to hug Seungmin’s neck, ignoring the disgruntled noises that come out in response.

Jisung rushes to free Seungmin and brings his emotional friend back towards him. “Do write when you’re settled in the capital.”

“I will. And you write back, but not too much. I do not need to know every thought that crosses your head, I’ve had too many years of that already.” He replies, making his friends smile. 

A few words later, the carriage is gone, leaving Jisung and Yongbok behind, lazily pacing the sidewalk that is now too wide for just them.

The Kingdom of Miroh has a long lasting tradition of keeping the members of the three founding families together, in pairs at the very least, to strengthen the friendship and the loyalty that keeps them united.

Succession repeats every third generation. For almost thirty years they were ruled by the Seo house, but now the throne belongs to Bang Chan, who’s steadily building a reputation as the kindest king to ever reign over Miroh. Next, the crown will be passed on to the Lee family and then the cycle will repeat.

Although a Kim, Seungmin is born to the same mother as the Seo heir and very dear to the families and especially to the new king, so now that Lee Minho has to come back to his province of origin, after the death of his father, and Seo Changbin is set to come with him, Seungmin has to fulfill his duty as a royal and replace them beside the King in the capital.

Yongbok is a noble and also a Lee, although from a different branch of the family. He doesn’t have the same ranking as his cousin, the former heir now lord of Levanter, but that means he will never have to face an order such as the one that took Seungmin away from them.

In Jisung’s humble opinion, the lucky one is truly himself. He is no noble, just the second son of a wealthy merchant. His only obligations in this life are to not get in the way of his father and of his older brother and to impress society with his good manners and looks, to exist as living proof of his outstanding upbringing, a good reason for nobility to continue their business with the Hans.

“I assume you will not be joining us at the pub tonight, is that correct?” Jisung asks once they get closer to the town’s centre, where the stores are still bustling with people even as the sun goes down and the pubs start crowding.

“Not tonight, no. Father asked me to be back at the manor early so we can prepare for Minho’s arrival.” Yongbok tells him, now calmer and with a drier face.

“I hope he doesn’t keep you for long, it gets rather quiet all by myself in that townhouse.”

“I’m sure your staff will appreciate a few nights of us not being rowdy there in the middle of the night.”

“We are not that bad. If we were, they would let me know. Remember how they acted when I dared to bring Jungwoo with us twice?”

Yongbok smiles, a dazzling display that tugs at Jisung’s heartstrings no matter how many times he sees it. He waves at a rental carriage that struts towards them in the street. “I should head home and let your evening start. I promise I’ll be back before you miss me.”

“Empty promises, my friend. I’m missing you already.” He holds Yongbok’s hand as he climbs the one step to his ride. “Tell your mother I miss her daughters too.”

“Jisung-” He reprimands, rolling his eyes. He waves goodbye and the driver closes the door between them.

Jisung is left completely by himself this time around, with a heaviness in his chest that threatens to make him cry. Without his friends he feels almost naked, hardly prepared to face a night out, even if it’s just an unassuming pub on a weekday.

He crosses the street and enters the familiar establishment, hearing his loud group of friends even before he can spot them. They are young men around his age, sons of lawyers and doctors, of merchants and other wealthy landowners of the region. 

They all perform an act together a few nights a week, where they are both the actors and the spectators. They congregate at a pub, one that’s decent enough that it won’t look bad for them to enter, but not too high-end as to scare the lower class women away. They show off their wealth, taking turns on paying rounds, without ever looking too eager to impress, treating the girls to whatever delicacy they fancy, as long as the payment is a pair of shiny eyes to look at them the whole night as if they are about the rarest piece of art in an exhibition.

The veiled competition uses the women as markers. One must engage as many of them as possible, but must avoid going home with the ones that laugh too easily, that sit too close. Jisung figures it is a competition for the girls too, with each other and with time—how long can one keep the façade of the innocent, curious girl who wouldn’t let just anyone touch her without losing the crowd’s interest?

It might not be the most interesting play Jisung has ever acted in, but it is one that keeps him distracted. Tonight he could use a distraction.

“Han,” says one of the men in the group, causing heads to turn his way, “no noble friends tonight?”

Jisung smiles, handing his coat to the helper at the door and walking towards the group. “I fear they are too busy for me tonight.”

“What could they possibly be busy with? It’s not as if they do much.”

“His Royal Highness arrives soon, that’s what they’re busy with.” Another, more drunk man interjects and a buzz starts amongst the women mingled with the group at the mention of the royal.

“Oh, I forgot! We must enjoy our last few nights then, because once the heirs are here these girls won’t even look at us.”

The two men start a conversation that Jisung supposes includes him too, but he stays quiet, nodding now and then when one of them looks his way. They talk about how easy it is for royals to get anything they want without putting in any effort and how dry the pubs are about to get for the common man.

It’s not that they are lying, their social position does make royals capable of getting most if not all of their desires fulfilled with the snap of a finger, still Jisung can’t help but think that these men wouldn’t take as much of a hit if they had half of the grace and charisma of the heirs.

“You seem a bit preoccupied, my lord.” Says a young woman who takes the spot beside him.

Ah, so it begins.

Jisung opens his brightest smile yet. “I’m no lord, sweetheart.”

“You sure look like one.”

Not an hour later, Jisung has her pinned against one of the couches in his townhouse. Pieces of clothing fall to the floor until he’s able to close his lips over pretty, perky nipples that beg for attention as his hand finds its way in between her legs, to rub and tease until she’s throbbing around his fingers.

He sits beside her on the couch, holds her off when she tries to reach for his trousers.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks, her face scrunched with worry.

“No, my dear. You were absolutely perfect.” He smiles, strokes her hair to try and calm her down. “My mind is too busy for me to go any further tonight, that’s all.”

She frowns. “I should go then.”

“If you wish to. I’ll have my driver take you, it is way too late and dangerous-”

“No, arriving in a carriage is like advertising the type of activities I was out doing. My father would never forgive me.”

“Right.” He gets up from the couch, fixing the front of his shirt, mourning the buttons that didn’t survive their heated introduction earlier. “I will walk you then.”

She smiles. “Are you sure you are not a lord?”

He breathes out a laugh. “I like to pretend I am.”

She finishes fixing her own clothes, then walks towards the door, leaning for a kiss just before he steps outside. “I won’t accept your company, sir, but I’m thankful for the offer. If you ever see me in town again, I would love to continue where we stopped.”

He watches her walk away until she disappears into the night completely, then closes the door and goes to wash up and do his prayers for the night.

He didn’t lie to her, his mind is too busy for sex, except it isn’t only tonight, it’s most nights. Sex takes a lot of concentration and he rarely finds himself present enough throughout the whole thing.

It’s not like he is incapable of it, he’s had plenty of nights where he went all the way and even enjoyed himself, but he can’t lie and say he likes the act as much as he likes the chase. And even then, he prefers to flirt in ballrooms, with ladies and wealthy girls, not so much because of their status, but because he knows it will lead to nothing. He likes to feel coveted in the safety of their modesty.

He goes to sleep thinking about the next ball he will attend, the one to welcome His Royal Highness the Lord of Levanter back home. His Royal Highness the Heir of Haven will also be there—his dear friend Changbin, who he hasn’t seen in over two years. He counts the days. 

It’s not Jisung’s first time at the royal residence, he visited it plenty of times because of Seungmin, who lived at that palace for as long as he stayed in the province, although since they all came of age, both him and Yongbok opted for spending most of their lives at Jisung’s townhouse.

That’s usually how it goes with the royals. The Bangs have their primary residence in the Eternity Province, the Seos at Haven Province and the Lees at Levanter Province, while the reigning king relocates to the capital. But when the royals are living out of their province of origin, they will take residence in the palace that belongs to the local family.

If it wasn’t obvious to everyone just how special Lee Minho’s return to his home land is, it becomes abundantly clear as soon as they enter the property. The largest ballroom of the region is opulently decorated in pink and green, the colours of the Lee house, refurbished and redecorated to look completely different from the last time the high society of Levanter stepped foot in there. The band takes a prestigious place at the corner opposite to the door, not too far from the platform where the four ornate chairs that will sit the royals are placed.

Jisung and Yongbok are past the arches that separate the ballroom from the adjacent chamber, surrounded by glimmering stemware that tower on the numerous tables scattered across the floor. Jisung has a trained mercantile brain and knows the ins and outs of most if not all materials and services he sees, greatly due to the fact that his father tends to be the major provider of the balls thrown in the province, this one being no different.

“They have outdone themselves, this is absolutely beautiful.”

“Mhm,” Yongbok smacks his lips as he swallows his drink, “Minho is not one to enjoy this much peacocking, but word of Levanter’s prosperity must get to the neighbouring kingdoms, for our own good.”

“I’m aware. My father won’t stop talking about showcasing his goods to the foreigners.” Jisung rolls his eyes playfully.

A commotion rises in the ballroom then and Yongbok pulls him by the hand. “We should go back, that would be my cousin.”

Lee Minho and Seo Changbin are both unmarried, but they enter the ballroom arm to arm with two beautiful young ladies, the youngest daughter of the Bang family and her Lee counterpart. That makes for two out of the three Lees in this generation, the oldest of them away at Haven Province, also fulfilling her duty of accompanying a Seo.

All four royals are a sight to behold, absolutely gorgeous in their white and pink gowns and suits as they walk the length of the room towards their seats, but it’s Lee Minho who makes Jisung’s breath catch in his throat.

The few times Jisung stole a glance at this man during his visits to town all have been like this. The moment Jisung sees his sharp features, the air in his chest turns heavy and it becomes hard to breathe, let alone talk. He would attribute it to the magnetism of an heir, but after so many years of knowing Changbin, he knows that’s not the case.

It’s Lee Minho himself that does something to him, gives him sensations he struggles to understand. He figures this might be what people feel like when they see an angel or have prophetic dreams. Lee Minho feels magical to him.

“Jisung!” Yongbok pokes him on the side, making him fold and snap awake.

“What was that for?”

“Your father has been trying to wave at you for the longest time, but you were in a trance.”

Jisung follows his friend’s eyes to the other side of the room, to find his dad all but whistling at him in an attempt to get him over there.

“Oh my, pray for me, Yongbokkie.”

Yongbok snorts out a laugh. “Good luck, dear.”

How he went from the corner of the room to now standing in front of the Lord of Levanter while his dad monopolizes the royal’s attention is a blur in his mind. Still, he can’t bring himself to intervene, even as he watches the patience drain from Lee Minho’s eyes. Jisung is just paralyzed, speechless from being this close to the man he admired from a distance for so many years.

“...and if Your Highness would like to stay over in town, you’re welcome in our townhouse and my son is just the right company. He knows the best places and the best people. He can get you acquainted with the place again, it will feel like you never left.”

Minho’s gaze finds Jisung’s face and the shadow of a smile plays on his lips. “Is that so, Mr Han?”

“Uh?” Jisung’s eyes go wide when he’s once again brought back to reality. He feels his cheeks burning and knows the thin layer of makeup does nothing to hide it. He bows. “I’m sorry, Your Highness… I- we- my father and I should not be taking this much of your time.”

Lee Minho closes his lips into a proper smile and waves Jisung and his dad away politely.

“Dad, what was that?” He whispers once they are far enough from their hosts.

“Why, I’m the one who asks you. Why would you end the conversation so abruptly?” His father has one angry hand over a hip and the other flailing an empty wine glass around. “Your royal friend was just beside us and you didn’t even say a thing!”

“Dad-” Jisung snatches the glass from his hand. “You are not allowed to drink here. You’re not supposed to speak to a royal like that. You-”

Jisung takes a deep breath. His dad is a good man, a man of faith and good intentions, with a brain that’s a million times more brilliant than probably anyone else in this room, even if he had no education to go with it. He put so much effort into making a gentleman out of Jisung, it’s not fair for him to be chastised for not knowing the same things Jisung does.

“Just leave it to me, alright?” He continues more calmly. “I know my way around nobility and I’ll make sure they always hold you in high regard. I promise.”

“Did I make things difficult for you, son?”

“No… no, you did not.” He touches his father’s arm, thumb brushing lovingly over the fabric until the concern in his face fades away. “Have you tried the strawberry cake? The baker is the same from Seungmin’s last birthday, remember?”

“Oh, I’ll have some of that.”

His dad turns around to head straight to the other room, but Jisung holds him in place and swerves his body to the right.

“Oh God, please do not cross the dance floor. Keep to the sides.”

He confirms his dad has followed his instructions and then runs an exasperated hand over his own face, taking a big breath. His gaze falls back on the platform where the heirs are seated and, to his surprise, Lee Minho is looking back at him, staring right into his eyes with a smile still gracing his lips, until someone bows in front of him and starts talking.

The ball was delightful, as Jisung expected. He is buzzed from the alcohol and giddy from the attention a group of women showered him with up until the very second Yongbok came to abduct him.

Now they’re hand in hand, walking the private garden in the back of the property. No guests are allowed in this area and everything looks and sounds exceptionally dark and quiet when compared to the bright, loud ballroom.

“Oh, there.” Yongbok points at a light not too far from them and they hurry their step. “Binnie!”

“Yongbokkie.” Changbin gets up and receives Yongbok into his arms.

Around the stone firepit sit another two figures. One is a beautiful man Jisung had spotted at the ball, but who has lost his suit jacket and now wears his long black hair gathered into a loose bun. The other is Lee Minho.

Jisung bows once to each man. “Your Highness. My lord.”

The royal acknowledges him with a polite raise of his hand, while the other man leaps up from his chair to offer a handshake.

“I’m not a lord, my dear, just a humble artist. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Han. I’m Hwang Hyunjin.”

Jisung accepts his hand and relishes his genuine tone. Hyunjin’s beauty is remarkable, with crescent eyes around a smile to rival Yongbok’s own and a lightness to his movements that’s nothing short of mesmerizing. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr Hwang.”

“Call me Hyunjin, if you don’t mind. Mr Hwang always makes me think of my dad.”

Jisung chuckles and nods. “Of course, Hyunjin. Please call me Jisung as well.”

“Will do, Jisung.” He smiles more.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him makes Jisung turn around. Changbin stands there, looking even stockier than the last time they met, with a playful little grin on his face.

Jisung bows to him this time. “Your Highness.”

“Oh, be quiet, Hannie. Come here.” He pulls Jisung in by the arms, crashing him face first against his solid chest and constricting him in a life-threatening hug.

Jisung lets out a few muffled words and Changbin pushes him away slightly.

“What was that?” Changbin asks.

Jisung blinks the dark spots away from his eyes. “You’re gonna ruin my makeup.”

“Don’t worry about that, you have stolen the hearts of enough young ladies for tonight. Get back to my tits!”

“Ah- enough, Bin-” Jisung pushes his hands against Changbin’s chest so that he can’t be pulled back in. He brings the large shoulders into a normal hug instead. “I missed you dearly, my friend.”

“So did I, Hannie.” He places a kiss on Jisung’s cheek then lets him go. “Have you met Minho?”

Lee Minho is standing when he looks back, waiting patiently for the greetings to be over. Jisung feels himself blush once again.

“I- hm… we have spoken briefly during the ball. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Highness.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Very briefly indeed. I’m glad we get another opportunity, Mr Han.”

“There will be plenty of opportunities, Min. Jisung and Yongbok are attached at the hip.” Changbin says while sitting down and bringing Yongbok to his lap, despite the empty chair right beside him. “Sit down, Hannie. Take a glass.”

Jisung has no time to move towards his two friends before Minho gestures for him to take the chair he’d been sitting on, politely helping him down by the hand and then taking the next seat himself.

With him sitting between the royal and the artist and being the only one directly beside Minho, therefore the only one with whom he could strike quiet conversation, Jisung’s heart thumps in anticipation and he grips the arm of his chair to avoid shaking. He is incredibly grateful when Hyunjin slips the brandy into his hand so he can be soothed while watching the conversation take place.

“You really should come with us on our next visit there. Believe me when I say that the beaches of Halazia will change your life. They certainly have changed mine.” Hyunjin tells Yongbok, bringing his campaign to take the boy out of Levanter to a conclusion with a wink towards Changbin.

“Maybe. Maybe, alright? If Binnie and Min can convince my father to let me go, then maybe.” Yongbok giggles from where his drunk head rests on Changbin’s shoulder. “Jisung’s dad brought the most beautiful stained glass pieces I have ever seen from Halazia. They are mesmerizing, I can never get tired of looking at them.”

Hyunjin snaps his fingers and sits up in his chair. “The stained glass, oh my God!”

Jisung is laughing to himself over the men’s excitement as they discuss the intricacies of glass art when Minho’s more quiet voice finds his ears.

“Are they at your townhouse?”

Jisung turns to face him, letting his eyes fall on the hint of chest that’s exposed past the few open buttons of his shirt, on the smooth skin of the neck that glimmers slightly against the light of the flame as he lies back on his chair, on the pretty fingers with well groomed nails that prop his jaw and rest against the small mouth.

Jisung swallows dry. “Pardon?”

It doesn’t get any easier for Jisung when he notices that Minho’s eyes also linger on his figure, likely slowed by the alcohol, lazily finding their way back to Jisung’s face.

“The stained glass, is it displayed at your townhouse?”

“Ah, yes. The panels are now part of the windows of the building. It is quite pretty in the afternoon sun.”

Minho nods and takes a sip of his drink. “I shall pay you a visit to look at them. I hope you don’t mind, since I have been invited previously.”

Jisung blushes even more when he remembers his father inviting a royal to a merchant’s townhouse in the middle of a ball. He brings a hand over his face to cover his struggle.

“I’m so very sorry for the way my father acted. It was terribly inappropriate and I’m thankful for your patience, Your Highness.”

Minho chuckles. “It was really sweet, actually. Your father comes across as a very genuine man.”

Jisung breathes out a more relaxed puff of air. “It’s kind of you to say so, sir. He is a wonderful man. Uneducated, as I’m sure it became clear, but still one of the fastests minds I’ve ever encountered.”

“It is a trait of the successful tradesman, is it not? Some of the sharpest people I’ve met were merchants like your father.”

“It’s survival instinct, sir.”

“Do you have one of those too? The fast mind of a merchant’s son?”

“I like to think I do, although commerce is my older brother’s trade and not my own.”

Minho smiles again, takes his time observing Jisung, who can’t help but notice how youthful he looks with his head tilted to the side and teeth peeking from the naturally raised lips.

“Yours is advertisement.” Minho states.

Someone pointing out so bluntly the strategy behind his family business should feel confrontational or at least inappropriate, but for reasons Jisung can’t quite understand, the way the words fall from Minho makes them feel like a compliment.

“You might very well be the greatest display of your father’s brilliance.” He says casually, unaware of how it makes Jisung’s stomach flutter.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“There’s no need to call me that. I know we lack the twenty years of friendship that entitles calling Changbin and Yongbok the variety of names you used for them this evening, but I would enjoy hearing you use my name, in case we do have twenty other years ahead of us. What do you say?”

“I say that sounds perfect, Minho.”

Minho smiles wider than he’s done at any point that night, until his eyes are crinkling in the corners. “Perfect, Jisung.”

Nature, Hyunjin had declared to be what inspired him, the movement of an ocean, the light of a sunrise, the beauty of a flower. The places Changbin’s patronage can take him—has taken him—the experiences it can provide, the feelings it can evoke. There's more life to be captured in an empty beach than in the eyes of a vain rich man.

No portraits, he had said. And yet here they are, in Jisung's sunroom, as light bathes Yongbok’s delicate features, causing him to glow more than human, giving reason to the words Hyunjin used to justify himself. Prettier than any flower and brighter than the sun itself. And for the movement, well, when he smiled, it moved me. 

That’s how they’ve been spending their afternoons together, the three of them, with Hyunjin endlessly inspired by his muse, painting away in the beauty of Jisung’s expertly curated conservatory. Sometimes Jisung provides the music himself, letting it flow from his fingers and lungs until it provokes his friends to tears. Sometimes they all prefer the silence. Today is one of the days Jisung lets the gentle tunes of his music box complement the sunlight that hits them just as gently.

Their royal friends have been busy, catching up on duties left behind by Minho’s dad’s untimely death, and so the three fortunate enough to be less noble and more free enjoy day and night together.

At first, Hyunjin refused the pubs Jisung and Yongbok frequent, used as he is to the classy clubs in the capital. However, it took only a couple visits to the town’s version of that type of establishment for him to surrender. Clubs in Levanter are for older gentlemen, those whose fun derives from cards and political chatter, not for young men like themselves, who thrive on the noise and the drinking and the dancing.

Even if the pub is better, still his artist friend begs to not be dragged there some nights and Jisung complies, though it worries him to not be out, where eyes can see him and minds can keep his name fresh. Surely the Hans can survive a few nights of him watching the stars and reading poetry.

“I spend days counting wrinkles in the face of uncles I didn’t even know were still alive and this is what you three get up to? How unfair.” Says Changbin’s loud voice from the entrance of the room, startling Jisung to his feet.

“Bin!” Yongbok gets up with a smile, being received into his favourite embrace in a repetition of the same scene Jisung has seen dozens of times since their return.

Jisung is left to blush as he watches Minho walk up to him.

“Jisung,” he says with a nod of his head, allowing Jisung enough time to compose himself and bow, “my apologies for surprising you. Please, don’t be angry at your staff, it was Changbin who forced our way in without notice.”

It takes Jisung a couple more seconds to recover from the shock of watching the Lord of the Province walk into his house. He laughs quietly. “I know that much, Your Highness. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Minho smiles. “Please, I’ve been called that so many times in the last few days that it makes me feel ill. Let me be just Minho for you again. Always.”

“Just Minho.” Jisung repeats with a smile. He gestures towards the table nearby and the assortment of desserts that remains barely touched on top of it. “We just had cake put out for us. My cook is extremely talented, I dare say her desserts rival the ones at your welcoming ball.”

“I will definitely try it then.”

Jisung gets closer to whisper in Minho’s ear. “Make some pleased faces if you can, my friend. It would give her enough happiness for the entire year.” He uses his eyes to point at the door, where two women do a poor job of hiding to watch the royal.

Minho’s laugh is sweet, hypnotizing from this close. He uses a hand on Jisung’s lower back to steer him towards the table, from where he chooses a sweet. He ensures they are facing the door when he takes a bite, immediately breaking into a loud, pleased hum. Jisung has to hold himself back from laughing at his extravagant reaction.

“Oh my, this is delightful. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything this delicious.” Minho lies and is immediately punished by choking and coughing.

Jisung can’t help but laugh then. “Here, I’ll get you some tea to go with it.”

Minho accepts the tea, happy to soothe his throat with the drink. “Thank you, dear. But if you don’t mind, I much rather partake in your wine now that I can breathe.”

As the final note of the cylinder lingers in his heart, Jisung finds himself missing Seungmin. His friend likes being in the conservatory, surrounded by the plants, in silence while pretending not to care for conversation or talking Jisung’s ear off when someone has done with his patience elsewhere.

“This is such a beautiful piece.” Minho tells him, eyes on the music box as his hand slides on the shiny surface of the dark wood.

He is drunk, Jisung can tell. It’s not that he drags his words, but there’s a lightness to them, a youthfulness he heard before, on the night they met. Happiness looks and sounds good on him.

“Do you mean the music or the furniture?”

Minho chuckles, eyes closing in a sweet expression. “I say both. But the music I’ve heard before, while it is my first time seeing this table.”

Jisung gets up from his seat and walks to him, also laying his hand on the console table that houses the full-sized music box—undoubtedly one of his most prized possessions. “My father brought it from overseas for my tenth birthday.”

“Your father must treasure you very dearly. I see not only this table and the famous stained glass, but plants that were brought from other parts of the world, textiles that don’t even make it to our markets. All from him?”

Jisung hums in agreement. “Father has a love for unique things.”

“And a love for you.”

Minho’s hand slides over Jisung’s, almost lazily, his fingers tracing over the knuckles as he slowly makes his way to the drawer on the lower part of the table. He opens it to look at the other cylinders, each one containing a set of melodies.

“Would you play us another one?” Minho asks. “Your personal favourite, if I can make yet another request.”

Maybe it isn’t so much Minho’s hand that’s slowed but rather Jisung’s mind. He didn’t have enough to be drunk, he thinks, but the feverish warmth on his neck and the trouble putting ideas together say otherwise.

Fighting to bring his eyes away from Minho’s intense gaze, Jisung lets his fingertips trace over the golden lettering that lies just above each slot, identifying the set. He chooses the one named Serendipity.

Minho raises the glass lid and helps him with the exchange, but lets Jisung reach between his arms for the lever that starts the music.

“Am I wrong to think your affinity with this set comes from the priests that mentored you?” Minho asks as they remain close together by the table.

“Oh?” Jisung exclaims in surprise.

“Is my assumption incorrect?”

“It is correct. Only I did not expect a royal to know anything about me.”

Minho uses his knuckles to caress Jisung’s cheek, eliciting yet another surprised sound. “You speak as if your family is not the one carrying Levanter’s name across the seas. As if you haven’t conquered the hearts of every noble and royal who’s ever met you. As if you don’t possess the type of beauty that would make a man dive into the depths of the ocean just to know a little more.”

Jisung doesn’t want his chest to heave this noticeably, doesn’t want his mouth to hang open uselessly, but the weight of the air suddenly doubles and his next breath is nothing if not the highest mountain he’s ever climbed.

“This is a well beloved piece by the clergy, the one that gives name to this set, that is true. It is what made my father think of me to begin with, ending in this musical box here.”

Jisung brings his hand up to Minho’s and gently pries it away from his face. The touch is too distracting and he will embarrass himself sooner or later if it remains. He shifts their attention to the glass lid, snapping it closed so that the sound resonates in richer notes around them.

“Was it your decision to not pursue the path of a priest or was it your father’s request?”

Jisung smiles, comforted in the knowledge that his new friend is clearly working off of assumptions and looking to get to know him better, much like any other person would. “Church life was never the goal, though I’m sure father would have allowed it if it was my wish. He does not take chances when doing business and hiring a commoner to mentor me would’ve been no better than a gamble when he couldn’t attest himself that what I was taught was really the way of the nobles. And where else would one find nobles willing to take such a job directly?”

“You’ve learned from our very own. The children of noblemen who are sent off to church. That’s brilliant.” Minho brings the glass to his lips, finding it empty.

“Oh, please, let me get that replaced for you.” Jisung suggests, looking through what remains of their wine and already moving to order more, but Minho gets his wrist, softly holding him in place.

“I shouldn’t. It’s dark out already and I should have been back hours ago. My escape was, unfortunately, only for today and I need to be capable of reasonable thought tomorrow.”

“But you will stay, will you not? Until the set is done.”

Minho opens the most endearing of all smiles. “I will sit through all six of them if you ask me to, Jisung.”

The first time Minho and Changbin attend the pub proves that there was some reason behind the young men's fears of being upstaged by the royals. Not only do the women inside gravitate towards the new additions, but a large portion of them don't even dare enter the establishment due to the looming presence of guards at the door.

Jisung finds no special difficulty in the chase, though, much like he predicted. Even if the status of his two friends attracts curiosity, he counts on similar financial means and, more importantly, similar manners. Jisung’s presence and influence is a constant and he is far from disposable, the night scene being no different.

No, the problem Jisung encounters isn’t in missing female attention, but rather attracting someone else’s. Someone whose eyes seem to bore holes in his confidence shield and strip his soul naked with just the weight of their gaze.

Minho is always looking at him. Even if he politely greets every woman that comes up to him, smiles at his friends and pretends to be part of the conversation, he is not—they are not. If Jisung opens his eyes and looks past the woman he’s kissing, Minho is there. His persistent smirk is there, the look of someone who knows more than him is there.

Minho watches as he makes each move of the courting dance he rehearsed to perfection, silently judging his performance. He follows Jisung with his eyes as he leaves with his chosen companion and somehow sticks around in Jisung’s mind way past the moment he gets to the townhouse and reaches his goal. And when she finally leaves, Minho still stays.

Night in, night out.

“Don’t you get tired of this?” Minho asks one evening, when Jisung is still sitting beside him as they get served their first drink.

“Of what exactly?” Jisung asks back, noticing that Minho’s eyes have already taken that all-knowing, all-consuming aura they tend to assume only after the play begins.

“Of the showing up, the choosing a target. Of the unsatisfying sex.”

“Who said it’s unsatisfying?” He jokes.

Minho lets his tongue peek out between his teeth briefly and huffs out a laugh. “Am I the first one to tell you so?”

Yes. Yes, he is.

“There’s nothing else I could be doing. This is the role that I play, just like everyone else here.”

“Have you considered that most people here are not playing a role and this experience might be uniquely your own?”

Jisung sips his drink, takes a long pause to think, because he knows that Minho will still be looking at him when he’s done.

“There are others acting out a scene. At least one more, unless you tell me otherwise. But I’m sure the women you don’t pay any attention to and the conversation you barely partake in would not be your first option if you had the choice.”

Minho’s smirk has Jisung frozen in place, his heart ready to spill into his drink.

“I don’t come here for the women, I come here for you.”

The brief pause Minho takes to swallow has Jisung weak in the knees, despite his seated position. It’s too warm in the pub, too tight inside his clothes.

“Your father promised you would show me around, make it feel like I never left the province.” He continues, pulling his eyes away for the first time that night, purposely breaking the undeniable tension in the air.

Jisung laughs out loud, a genuine expression of relief at the teasing tone in Minho’s voice.

“You are doing a great job, let me affirm it.” Minho adds. “Because I truly do think this is the best Levanter has to offer.”

“Are you trying to learn from me, Your Highness?” He teases. “That explains the stares.”

“There are many reasons why I would want to look at you, Han. Learning your secrets is one of them.”

Jisung hums as his eyes survey the bar to get started with his night. “My secrets…” He repeats distractedly.

Minho pinches Jisung’s jaw between his thumb and fingers, firmly turning his face back to him, and when Jisung realizes what happened, he is staring into those intense eyes once more.

“Don’t drift away, Jisungie. I’ve asked you a question and you never answered me.”

His heart races again. Minho’s grip is gentle, but it feels as if the weight of a thousand carriages is on him, planting him to the floor, stopping him from moving.

“Don’t you get bored?” Minho clarifies.

Jisung closes his eyes, tries to take a deep breath. “I do.”

The hand slides down to lie amicably on Jisung’s shoulder.

“Then why are you here?”

“Advertisement.”

Minho laughs softly. “The times when the money or the influence of patrons to places such as this one would have made a difference to your family are long gone and we both know that. Why are you here?”

“Where else would I go?”

The smile grows on Minho’s face, his teeth a blinding light to Jisung.

“Would you come with me?”

The royal townhouse is only more lavish than Jisung’s due to him having been old enough when his was built to convince his father that trying to live in a better house than that of the king’s family was, at the very least, distasteful. So this one is larger, more opulent, to where it would make Jisung’s residence look modest if it wasn’t for the lack of character.

Jisung’s townhouse is filled with his personality and one cannot enter it without at least a glance of his father’s doting love. Minho’s townhouse feels impersonal, untouched by love and far from being a home.

“I haven’t been here since we were kids.” Yongbok says as the group makes its way to the indoor pool in a reserved corner of the garden.

“No one has, really. This house has not been used since Jieun relocated to Haven. Other than the few times the girls need to stay the night in town, of course.”

When the rest of their friends joined them out of the pub, a lot of Jisung’s uneasiness melted away. He is glad that it was so, because had he remained agitated like when Minho offered him his hand and pulled him up from his seat, he wouldn’t have trusted his own judgment for the rest of the night.

As it is, even with the royal’s hand still laced with his, he is calm enough to understand Minho is talking about his sisters, the youngest of which Jisung has the pleasure of calling a friend.

The path through the garden is surprisingly well illuminated due to the bright lights of the house and to the lamps that the servants lit up beforehand. Still, Hyunjin and Yongbok cling to Changbin as if they are taking a stroll through the jungle and Jisung himself does not feel inclined to separate from Minho’s reassuring hold.

The pool building is similar to Jisung’s sunroom, with extensive windows and tall plants that provide a sense of privacy. The floor is of rustic rock and the pool itself is shallow, the water certainly not passing waist height. Jisung is once again glad, because one of the few things he’s never attempted to learn is how to swim.

A table is made for them with refreshments and there’s a wide variety of alcoholic beverages on a large bar. Minho offers to make him a cocktail and only then does Jisung notice that they are entirely alone, no guards or staff around.

When he looks back at their friends, he sees them already partially undressed. The first thing he notices is Changbin’s upper body, muscular and completely exposed, as he stands on the edge of the pool in only his underpants, that cover from his waist down past his knees.

Yongbok is still undressing, untying his underpants and letting them fall to the floor, relying on his mid-thigh length undershirt to keep his decency, much like he does whenever he shares a bed with Jisung.

Hyunjin's option of undergarment is much different from the ones Jisung is used to. He wears shorter underpants that start lower on his hips and end mid-thigh, with lace on the bottom and tied in place with a small bow. His shirt is gone, but a tighter, sleeveless top remains.

From the corner of his eyes, Jisung sees Minho start to undress and gets that sinking feeling again. He wonders if it will always be like this, his lungs heavy and his stomach fluttering as a tingling sensation spreads to all parts of him.

“Come, Sungie. Let’s get in the pool.” Yongbok says, approaching to start unbuttoning Jisung’s vest.

Jisung lets him, helping on undoing his own pants and getting his shoes off. He is a shy man, but not around Yongbok.

“Did you want to leave your shirt on too?” His friend asks. Jisung nods and prays Minho will do the same. “Alright. Let’s go in.”

Already in the pool, Jisung finds out that his prayers were not answered. Lowering himself into the water is Minho, wearing nothing but his underpants, which thankfully are of the traditional kind, long like Changbin’s and his own.

Minho’s shoulders are broad, something Jisung had noticed on the first night of his return, still under the tight fit of the white and pink suit he wore at the ball. His arms are thick and his chest plump, distractingly so. He smiles at how he’s being watched and Jisung can’t avoid the struggling sound that comes out of him as he turns away hurriedly.

“Alright, who’s going to be the blindman first?” Changbin asks, waving a piece of fabric in the air.

Minho laughs. “That’s something I haven’t heard in at least ten years.”

“Me! I’ll do it, let me start!” Yongbok screams, quickly waddling his way to Changbin.

“What is that? What’s the blindman?” Hyunjin asks.

“It’s a game in which one person will be blindfolded and the rest of us will be moving around the pool. If the person manages to touch you, you have to stay in place and let them try to guess who they’re touching. If they guess wrong, you get to go free and the game continues. If they guess correctly, you take their place as the blindman.” Changbin explains. “You can hop out of the pool to save yourself, but if the blindman screams your name while you are out of the water, you’re caught. If they say someone else’s name instead, they get spun around as a punishment.”

“Hm, fine, that’s simple enough.” Hyunjin says.

“Are you fine with it too, Jisungie?” Minho asks him in a lower volume, while Changbin is already blindfolding Yongbok.

“Yes, that sounds fun.”

The first round is fairly quick, with Yongbok cornering Hyunjin in a matter of minutes and making good use of the opportunity to touch and squeeze his friend to his heart’s desire, even if everyone already knew he would guess correctly just by the way he pulled on the straps of the sleeveless top at first.

Hyunjin’s turn takes longer, with him constantly getting distracted by the movement behind him and even saying the wrong name when Minho is out of the water, but eventually Jisung finds himself pressed against the edge, with Hyunjin’s hand on his hair and down his arm.

“Hm… I can tell it is not one of the royals already.” He says with a squeeze to his arm, making the others laugh as Jisung tries to keep quiet. “Now, which one of those pretty things are you?”

Hyunjin lowers his hand down to Jisung’s thighs, which are covered by his underpants, unlike Yongbok’s. It should be enough to give him away, but Hyunjin still opts for bringing a hand up to his butt, to press and pull like he’s choosing fruit at the market.

“That’s Jisung.” He says, cheers erupting as he removes the blindfold.

“Was all of that really necessary?” Jisung teases.

“It’s harder than you think, alright? You’ll see.”

Hyunjin ties the fabric over his eyes and he spins in place three times as everyone scatters to new positions. Jisung isn’t brave enough to walk through the middle of the pool like the other two did. It might be shallow, but not once in his life have his athletic abilities been reliable. Blind and slightly drunk as he is at that moment, he could find a way to drown in a puddle. He keeps to the side of the pool, only waddling away from it when he hears someone moving close by.

His round is starting to feel a bit too long by the time he knocks against a body. The fact that he heard no attempt to escape, no movement in the water before he hit this person face first, means that they had been there, just waiting for Jisung to get to them.

His heart starts racing immediately and he feels silly. Any of his friends could have decided to take pity on him and bring his turn to an end. He brings his hands to the person’s forearms and drags them up. Shirtless, not Yongbok.

The upper arms are muscular, much larger than what Jisung’s hands can grasp, but are they large enough for it to be Changbin?

Hyunjin was right, it is harder than it looks. And it isn’t Hyunjin there, a suspicion he held due to the thickness of the arms, but confirms once his hands reach the strapless shoulders.

He drags his palms down over the chest. Round, plump. He thinks it’s Minho. This feels exactly like what he imagines touching Minho would feel like. He hopes it is Minho.

He goes even lower, fingers tracing over the person’s stomach. It is soft, there are no bumps of muscle like the ones Changbin carries. It is Minho.

Jisung has to open his mouth in order to breathe and the gulp of air is embarrassingly loud in the small space between them. Minho’s hand comes to cover the one Jisung still has over his chest.

“Haven’t you recognized me yet?” Minho whispers to him only.

Jisung startles, brings both hands away from him.

“It’s Minho!” He screams and everyone cheers.

They play a couple more rounds until it devolves into a simple game of chase. Jisung feels a lot braver this way, with his vision preserved and a sense of safety that comes from how diligently Minho and Yongbok take turns to be within arm’s reach in case he slips and falls.

Changbin and Minho seem to have a common passion for alcoholic drinks and the mixing of cocktails, so the other three get to try out a diverse selection of suspicious drinks made by them.

“Oh, I didn’t know we had this here.” Minho says, opening an unlabeled bottle to sniff and grimace at the smell.

“Let me see.” Changbin pulls the bottle to his lips and takes a sip, eyes watering through what Jisung imagines is cheap alcohol burning. “Yeah, bring that over to the pool.”

Minho laughs out loud, walking back to the pool and bringing the drink with him.

Hyunjin waddles closer and sniffs the bottle too, dramatically stepping away and whining about the burning in his nose. Jisung and Yongbok refuse to get closer.

“What is that?” Jisung asks.

“Some god awful drink Chan won in a bet against a pirate when we were kids.” Minho tells him.

“Chan, as in Bang Chan, the King?”

“Himself.”

“The King, who’s out getting into bets with pirates for cheap alcohol?” Jisung asks again, incredulous.

“Well, he wasn’t the king yet. Also, pirate is really generous of me. He was just, you know… a guy.”

The two of them fall into laughter together, until they’re interrupted by Changbin.

“It will be the punishment for our next game.”

“Why? Get something that’s at least tolerable!” Hyunjin complains.

“You haven’t even tried it yet.”

“And I don’t want to!”

“Then don’t fail and you won’t have to, princess.” Changbin winks at him.

“Ugh, alright. What is the game now?”

Changbin looks around for a second, as if scavenging his mind for ideas, then his eyes light up with mischief. “I know what we should play! We’ll take turns doing an action that the others have to repeat. Whoever can’t perform the action correctly has to drink.”

It actually doesn’t sound too bad to Jisung, he has some tricks up his sleeve that surely could get at least some of his friends to drink the dreaded unlabeled alcohol. Everyone seems to get to a similar conclusion, since all heads nod in agreement to the proposed game.

“Sungie should start, since he won the last round.” Yongbok tells them, looking at Jisung for confirmation.

Jisung smirks. “Are you all ready for a little sip?”

The trick Jisung pulls is simple, an ability he discovered in himself years ago and hasn’t done much with, until tonight. He strings together a rhyme, long and rhythmic. The flow of his words so impressive that it provokes a couple of gasps from his audience. 

“Ah, that’s not fair.” Yongbok says, already reaching for the alcohol.

“Do you want me to repeat it?”

“What would be the point?” He drinks directly from the bottle, hissing at the pain in his throat. “Oh God.”

Changbin lets out a loud laugh, getting a bit closer to Jisung and cracking his shoulders and neck. “Watch me, Sungie.”

He sings it back to Jisung, missing a few words, justifiably so since he only heard the rhyme once, but keeping a more than decent flow throughout the whole thing. 

Jisung gets so excited that he literally jumps at Changbin to celebrate. “You are so good at it!”

“Thank you, thank you.” He says, bowing to his audience. “You are amazing yourself. Now, please, I want to see the rest of you drink.”

Minho looks at the bottle, then back at his friends. He opens his mouth, stuttering a couple of words, getting redder and redder on the face with each mistake and retry. Until he finally gives up, snatches the bottle from Yongbok and takes a shot. His face impassive, unbothered.

Then comes Hyunjin. He is nervous, whispering the words to himself almost in a chant. He takes the bottle from Minho’s hand and places it on the edge of the pool to stare at it during his attempt at the challenge. He sings it. Word for word. A little slower than Jisung, but with beautiful pronunciation. An absolute success.

All other four explode in cheers when he’s done. Changbin even picks him up on his shoulder for a victory lap.

“I like this game.” Hyunjin says, climbing off Changbin’s shoulder to hug him from behind instead. “Who’s next?”

“Why don’t you take this turn?” Changbin suggests.

Hyunjin’s eyes are pure mischief. “Alright. Do this then.” He proceeds to throw his hands in front of his body and turn upside down in the water, folding one knee to form a triangle between his legs.

“Oh, come on…” Yongbok complains, already eyeing the bottle.

“Are you not even trying? You used to be pretty good at dancing and acrobatics.” Minho says, surprised.

“I’m not wearing any pants and I’m not drunk enough to allow all of you to see my dick just yet.”

Minho laughs, making sure to deliver the bottle straight to Yongbok’s hands. “Let’s work on that, then.”

Jisung joins them and takes a sip next, meeting Minho’s curious gaze once he recovers from the punch of the alcohol. “I’m not putting my head under water like that, have you lost your mind?”

They drink and they play for what feels like hours. Jisung laughs so much his body hurts from it. It is light and it is natural, and in the back of his drunk mind Minho’s words about him not having to play a role still ring insistently.

Yongbok drinks too much and ends up falling asleep lying on one of the chairs. They make sure to cover him, make him comfortable while the others still have energy in them.

Upon entering the pool again, Jisung’s foot slides on the tile and he sees his life flashing before his eyes. Minho catches him, sweet laughter falling from him at the look of panic in Jisung’s eyes.

“I would never let you drown, my dear.” He says, bringing both hands around his waist.

The effects of Minho’s presence are dulled down by the alcohol, at least in the sense that Jisung does not have to worry about not being able to breathe or hear over the thumping of his heart. But they are stronger in another sense—the tingling spreads faster, reaches new places.

It doesn’t help that Minho doesn’t let go of his waist when he leans against the side of the pool, getting Jisung even closer, until the front of their thighs rub together in the water.

It doesn’t help that Jisung doesn’t even try to move away, resting his hands on Minho’s chest for support.

It doesn’t help that he’s hypnotized by the spark in Minho’s eyes.

Fingers tug on his shirt from behind, slowly removing it from where it is tucked into his pants. Then Minho’s warm palm touches the skin of his back and if humans could set other humans on fire, Minho would have sent Jisung into flames.

Jisung watches a skilled hand undo the lowest button of his shirt, revealing the soft skin around his navel so that Minho’s thumb can press on it.

The hold Minho has on his waist is making him dizzy. It is too pretty, the way the strong grip makes him look fragile, breakable.

“We must get you out of that wet fabric, Sungie. It will make you less cold.” Minho practically whispers, already taking care of the remaining buttons.

Jisung hadn’t even noticed he was shaking. He supposes it will help, so he lets Minho undress him, lets those soft hands glide up his chest and to his shoulders, dropping the shirt from him, lets Minho bring him even closer, into a hug, until his nose is on Jisung's neck, his warm breath threatening to draw sounds out of him.

He shakes even more violently now. Minho whispers to him again.

“You’re alright, my love. I’ll take care of you.”

And then Minho's lips touch his neck. Once, twice.

Jisung doesn’t know what to do, his thoughts blank when a moan slips out of him. His legs weaken when it elicits the most beautiful sound from Minho in response.

His eyes open for the first time since Minho brought him closer and the blur that is reality takes shape when he recognizes Changbin in front of him. He’s turned the other way, facing the bar. His uncovered back is disturbed only by Hyunjin’s hand that's clawing on the shoulder hard enough to leave a trace.

They are kissing. Hyunjin is sitting on the bar, with Changbin between his legs. Jisung can see now how Changbin’s hands invade the bottom of Hyunjin’s underpants to knead on his ass, rutting their lower halves together.

The shock wakes him up from his trance and he steps away from Minho with a gasp. He can’t even mind his manners or the surprised look on Minho’s face, not when his entire body tells him to run.

He leaves the pool as fast as he can, quickly searching for the pile of clothes that belongs to him. He tries to put them on, but the fabric sticks to the wet skin, filling him with frustration on top of being scared, making tears bubble up in his eyes.

“Jisung, are you unwell?” Minho asks, voice gentle and worried. He is close, out of the pool and just a feel steps away from Jisung.

Jisung startles, turning around to face him while holding his clothes to cover his naked chest. “Your Highness, I… I’m sorry. I’m tired. I should- I should go.”

Minho nods politely. He steps away for a moment and comes back with a towel that he hands to Jisung without getting any closer. “May I suggest you spend the night? It is extremely late. For you, for the driver, for the horse. Please, it would be my pleasure to host you for the night.”

“I don’t think-”

“You and Yongbok could stay in the same room, I know it would make the two of you more comfortable.”

It’s like a shot of relaxation is injected right into Jisung’s veins. Minho’s tone is sweet and his eyes less intense than they’ve been all night, even if his brow furrows in worry. Of course he would want to stay with Yongbok.

Jisung smiles. “I’ll stay then.”

He doesn’t linger until breakfast, still far from prepared to face his friends after such a night. After hours of tossing and turning, he leaves as soon as it is socially acceptable to bother the staff for a ride.

The image of Changbin and Hyunjin tangled in each other’s arms refuses to dissipate from his mind, same as the feeling of Minho’s hand on his lower back, of his lips on his neck. Jisung just can’t forget how sensual it felt while being so casual, so easy.

He tries to erase the memories by keeping busy and making his rounds downtown. There’s a new tenant at the building where the late Mr Yun had his shop, Jisung will do his introductions to make sure he’s seen.

He loves this town, his home. Even if the night scene is a bit tiresome, the sunlight brings it to life, so Jisung never runs out of things to do. 

Every time flashes of the previous night—of Minho’s chest, of his eyes—pop up in his head, Jisung distracts himself with something new. Before he notices, he's walked to the end of the market and is yet to successfully run away from his own thoughts.

He watches as a group of young men walk on the bridge ahead, filling the air with loud laughter. Jisung knows who they are, all of them children of affluent families, still of school age. They are drunk, although it is much too early for how wasted they seem to be. They are probably hiding away from their tutors and will get in trouble for this once their brains are able to feel shame again.

One of them trips as they get to the end of the bridge, rolling on the grass pathetically until one of his friends is able to beat laughter and run to his rescue. Then it takes two of them to carry the boy to safety, where they all proceed to make fun of him by calling him a big baby who needs to be cradled around town and give him exaggerated kisses and pinches to the cheek.

Jisung smiles to himself. Alcohol causes people to act like children sometimes, it can make one roll down a bridge in their suit or tap into their motherly side to care for their friend like an infant. He supposes it can make one get trapped in a friend’s embrace just as easily, make them crave touch, make them forget the difference between the skin of a woman and that of a man.

Somehow this is reassuring, Jisung isn’t different from these boys. Time will dim his memories of that night until they take their place of drunken buffoonery and are replaced by newer, more appropriate ones. Jisung is sure of that.

It’s a couple nights until Jisung decides to attend the pub again. Later than his usual time, after getting caught up in a book and not being able to put it down until it was done.

His stomach sinks at the sight of the royal guards by the entrance. He’s been doing great not thinking of that night, but fears it might be too soon to see his friends again.

“Han, finally!” Says a man just as Jisung decides to turn back home. “We have missed you these past few days, the girls even more.”

He doesn’t get to escape.

Once inside the pub, his eyes dart around the room in search of any of the royals that are sure to be the reason for the extra security. Changbin is nowhere to be seen, but Minho is impossible to miss.

All other nights they visited this same pub together, Minho chose the silence of a reserved corner, of polite smiles and nodding conversations. To be a spectator instead of an actor.

Tonight, he has the main role.

He sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by the young men who usually frequent the place—Jisung’s friends, for all intents and purposes. There is a woman by his side and his arm circles her waist loosely as they laugh at some joke Jisung did not hear.

Jisung offers him a bow. “Your Highness.”

“Han, it’s nice to see you are well.”

“Worried about my health, sir?”

“Something of the sort.” Minho smiles. “Please, take a seat.”

Jisung sits across from Minho and the woman, close enough for his view of them to be unobstructed, but also far enough as to discourage conversation. It isn’t long until some of his evening friends come to sweep his attention away from the couple with chatter that, in all honesty, Jisung’s brain barely registers.

He finds himself playing Minho’s usual part, politely letting women down as they progressively give up on approaching him, lingering with the same drink in his hand for most of the night and, most importantly, watching.

He watches Minho get handsy with the girl, watches her knee ride up his thigh and the way he firmly drags a hand up her side until his fingers can fondle her breast. Watches his lips find the skin of her neck like they did to his own just a few nights ago.

As if he can feel the weight of being stared at, Minho looks at him. His eyes pierce through Jisung like daggers, but instead of poison they’re laced with the knowledge that no matter what his tongue is doing inside her mouth, his attention is all Jisung’s. The kiss is for him, the show is for him.

He sees her hand slide to the front of Minho's pants and his mind provides the sound for when Minho’s beautiful mouth gapes with pleasure.

Minho grips her ass over the skirt and Jisung throbs painfully in his clothes, the sudden realization of how hard he is from watching them hitting him with damaging force. He needs to leave.

Jisung gets up from his seat and exits the pub without sparing them another look.

What is he supposed to do when his body burns even in the quietude of his home? When he’s certain he’s never felt this level of desire, when he thought this type of lust was but a lie made up by the poets. How was he supposed to know?

He thinks about them as he lies naked in bed, harder and wetter than ever before, the movement of his hand equal parts agonizing and pleasurable.

Maybe Minho will get rough with her, he has that intensity about him. He will pin her down to the bed with his weight and make her scream as he uses her. 

Even then, he will feel more delicate than anyone she’s ever had, more elegant, more graceful. It will be in the way he smells, in the softness of his royal skin, in the silkiness of his pretty lips.

She’ll get to taste his sweat and hear his noises, she’ll get to feel his nails digging on her flesh and get to take the evidence of his pleasure into her body. She’ll get almost everything.

Almost, because she will never get that look, she’ll never see the intensity of his eyes when they look at Jisung, she’ll never know the insanity they provoke.

When Jisung comes it is like nothing he’s ever experienced in life. His toes curl and legs tense so tightly that they hurt, his free hand clasps the sheets in desperation, his eyes roll back and his mouth falls open to let the most embarrassing of all cries out into the night as he spills over himself in waves, until his body is empty and exhausted.

He watches the ceiling in a haze, Minho’s name still on his lips as he breathes in peace for the first time that night.

He gets no more than a day of solitude to think things through and he spends it praying, asking for guidance. Then Yongbok is back, missing him dearly, ready to cure him of any and all mental suffering.

“But why do you look so plain? People are gonna think you are sick.” Yongbok tells him upon seeing the mostly monochrome look he put together for the town fair.

“I don’t feel like putting in the effort today.”

“It shows. Let me do it for you then, just sit down.”

Jisung sighs and sits in one of the armchairs, chuckling when an annoyed ‘do not sigh at me’ is yelled at him from inside the closet. Not long after, he has a full outfit put together for him, ready to grace the streets, as soon as Yongbok is done painting his face.

“You’ve been busy?” Yongbok asks, hands working on tapping the powder to Jisung’s face.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you left early that morning at Minho’s townhouse and because you haven’t been out much in the evening.”

“How do you know that?”

“People tend to notice when you are missing and I have sisters.”

Jisung hums in agreement. “I’ve just been reading and reflecting about life. One has to take some time for that every now and then.”

“I suppose that’s right. But you know I can smell it on you when you’re lying, don’t you?”

Jisung smiles sadly. “I’m not sure if it would be right to share it with you.”

“Of course it would be right to share it with me, whatever it is. Are you supposed to ruminate over your thoughts without the other half of your brain?”

“It’s just- it might affect you personally.”

“Why, then you must tell me.” Yongbok closes the makeup container with a clank and sits down in front of Jisung, a serious frown on his face. “What happened?”

“That night at Minho’s… I’ve seen something.”

“Mhm?”

“I’ve seen Changbin and Hyunjin kissing. Well, more than kissing. They were… Changbin’s hands were inside Hyunjin’s clothes.” Jisung pauses, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come, then continues. “Since then, I’ve been looking through all the times we’ve been together as a group and I really don’t think that was the first time for them.”

“That… it wasn’t.”

Jisung stares at Yongbok’s face. He has a look to him, lower lip worried under his teeth, wrinkles on the side of his eyes. He is uncomfortable, but far from surprised. “You knew.”

Yongbok nods.

“Since they arrived?”

“Much before that. Changbin wrote to me when they met years ago. I all but watched them fall in love through his letters.”

“Fall in love?” Jisung asks with the distressed tone of a whispered scream. “Changbin is in love with a man?”

His friend nods once again, eyes closed as he works through the discomfort.

“Did he ask you to not tell me? I imagine it’s been hard on him, getting to terms with that.”

“Not at all. They, hm… They met with that in mind, I believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hyunjin was under another man’s patronage at the time they were introduced, but Changbin had seen him and his work beforehand and he went there to proposition Hyunjin, who was more than ready to join him.”

“Pardon me, proposition?”

“To accompany him in his travels… as a lover.”

Jisung gets up from his seat and starts pacing around. “As a lover? ”

“Yes and then as time went by they developed more intense feelings for each other. Changbin is completely in love with him.”

“What about Hyunjin?”

“It is my belief that Hyunjin loves him back.”

“And you are the only one who knows that?”

“Far from it, Changbin’s inclination towards men is common knowledge within the families. It is…” He pauses for a few seconds, as if weighing his words. “It is not uncommon for nobility to engage in this type of relationship.”

At this point, Jisung has quit pacing around and is just standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “With people of the same sex?”

Yongbok nods yet again.

“But what about the church? Aren’t the royals and the church one and the same? This is against the holy texts.”

“It is.” Yongbok agrees. “Still, a lot of noble and royal people take part in it.”

“Minho also?”

The sudden question takes Yongbok by surprise. He blinks away the confusion and answers. “Yes, Minho’s inclinations are the same as Changbin’s.”

Jisung’s mind is running at full speed, the memories of that night coming back to him stronger than ever. The way Minho spoke to him, the looks, the touches… Minho’s inclinations.

“Are you not going to ask me?” Yongbok asks with a quivering voice, interrupting his thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“About me. Are you not gonna ask what my inclinations are?”

He sees Yongbok’s eyes welling up in tears and feels as if someone has dumped a bucket of icy water over his body. He runs to his friend, knees hitting the floor in front of him so he can hold his crying face.

“Oh my dear, my darling. And you wouldn’t tell me?”

Yongbok’s crying turns into sobbing and Jisung loses the battle to tears of his own.

“I- I didn’t want you to be repulsed by me, I didn’t want you to abandon me.”

“Repulsed? In what world could I feel anything for you other than love?”

“You said it yourself, it’s against the holy texts. I know the way of the commoners when it comes to that. The nobles might accept it, but the commoners won’t.” He looks down at the floor, a type of shame in his eyes that Jisung never thought he could cause. “My mother is completely sickened by it, it is one of the reasons she values our friendship so much. She believes that you have more decent values than any friends I could have within the nobles.”

“Yongbokkie, you could go against every letter of the texts and I still would not abandon you.” He wipes some of the tears away from his friend’s face. “We came into this world under the same moon and I pray we will leave it just as tightly together, because I never would endure having to experience life without your friendship. Do you understand me?”

Yongbok launches himself against Jisung then, hugging his neck tightly. “I do, I do.”

“I love you. If you’re inclined some certain way then I’ll bend the world to fit you.”

Yongbok’s giggle comes muffled against Jisung’s chest. “You really are good with words.”

“I’ve been told.”

The hug tightens even more. “I’m sorry I hid it from you.”

Jisung shakes his head to disagree “No, I am sorry that I made you feel like you needed to hide it.”

The first days of the town fair are, if uneventful, a nice distraction. Jisung, Yongbok and Hyunjin spend their days trying out foods and competing in matches that get way too heated between the three of them given that the prizes are nothing fancier than snacks and toys they haven’t played with for more than half of their lives now. By the time Minho and Changbin are able to join them, they have amassed an extensive collection of silly hair pins and flower crowns to be used as punishment against the loser of their secret bets.

The royals don’t get to partake in fishing apples from the water or in losing their pocket money in any of the gambling games and are rather invited to participate in the somewhat more dignified activities, such as judging the children’s dance and initiating the archery contest.

Minho’s arrow crosses the field with a swift noise, hitting the target dead in the centre, and the crowd explodes in cheers. He smiles as he passes the bow to the game host, officially declaring the competition open.

“I can’t believe you actually convinced me to sign up for this.” Jisung complains with both hands in his hair, draped dramatically over the fence in the audience. “I’m going to embarrass myself without recovery.”

“Oh please, you cannot be that bad at it. It is not even a serious competition. No one is going to be good at actual archery.”

Hyunjin is correct, it is not a serious competition, most people are there to experience what it is like to shoot a real arrow in a proper field, with a proper target, maybe even just to watch their friends do so poorly that they’ll have something to laugh about for the entire year. Maybe one or two unlikely prodigies will show themselves and take home the prize, but that is definitely not the goal. The goal is to have fun.

“You have no idea. I worry Jisung might somehow shoot his own eye instead of the target.” Yongbok says.

Hyunjin laughs. “Well, at least I can keep the hope of not being the worst one then.”

It’s not long until Hyunjin is called for his turn, under encouraging calls and sweet giggles from the women in the audience.

Each contestant gets five shots and has their scores added up to be ranked. Hyunjin gets two shots in the outermost ring of the target, one lucky shot in the second ring to the centre and then misses the last two completely, bringing his score to about the average of everyone before him. He leaves the field laughing at the host’s joke about him having to stick to painting for now.

“See? I did poorly and am yet to be banished from the kingdom.” Hyunjin jokes once he’s back in the audience.

“I think I’m going to faint.” Jisung answers, slumping back in his chair and provoking his friends to laughter.

“We have a surprising contestant this year. For the first ever time, we welcome to the field the pride and joy of this town, the most lovely Mr Han. C’mon down, child.” Says the host, who just like all other shopkeepers in town has learned to love Jisung as he grew up amongst them.

The crowd cheers louder than they have done since Minho got back to his seat earlier. Jisung is quite the celebrity amongst the people of Levanter, the payoff to his father’s efforts on making him the gentleman he is. He lives and breathes the love and trust these people put on him.

It is not that important. Everyone is here to have fun. He repeats in his head as he walks to the field.

Insecurity makes his hands shake as he starts to position the arrow, to the point of him struggling to even keep the bow up. He can barely even see the target and it’s due to being nervous more than to not having his eyeglasses.

He shoots, missing the target entirely. A wave of disappointed sounds comes from the audience and Jisung feels his face burn in shame. He barely hears whatever joke the host tells, but the sound of the laughter rings deep in his ears.

He prepares the second shot, but the arrow falls to the floor before he can even shoot it. He picks it up and tries again, burying it in the ground just past halfway through the field.

He’s having a hard time breathing, let alone keeping his thoughts in order. All he seems to be able to think about is that he knows his strengths and his limitations, that he shouldn’t have put himself in this situation. When he is good at something, he is unstoppable, but when he feels insecure, when he is unprepared and exposed, when anxiety takes over, he is no one. He feels shameful tears well up in his eyes.

“Try to keep calm, we’ll do it together.” Says a voice behind him, low and calm, capable of grounding Jisung’s thoughts almost immediately.

“His Royal Highness has come to the rescue,” screams the host, “what a beautiful scene.”

Minho glues himself to the back of Jisung’s body, bringing his elbow and hands to the right position. Jisung can’t help but to turn and look at him, at the outline of his gorgeous face as it rests so close to his own cheek.

“Look ahead now, my dear. We are about to hit the target.”

It is all Minho, none of it Jisung. The arrow flies straight at the target, hitting the ring closest to the centre. The crowd bursts with screams and whistles and the host loses himself to compliments, joining the cheers. Jisung’s eyes are drawn to Minho’s smile—wide, proud, jovial, beautiful.

“There are two more to go, my love.” Minho says in the same low, calm voice, fetching another arrow and positioning it for Jisung.

They pull, they aim, they shoot. Same inner ring, same celebration.

“Perfection.” Minho whispers in his ear, causing all hairs in his body to stand.

“One more?” Jisung asks.

Minho brings the last arrow in front of them. “Mhm, can you get through it?”

“If you don’t let go of me, I can.”

Minho grips firmly on Jisung’s waist, pulls him even closer. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The shaking has stopped and Jisung can hold the bow on his own. “Is this good?”

“Elbow higher and bring the tip down a bit.” He waits for Jisung to correct himself. “Now shoot.”

Bull’s eye.

Jisung’s face lights up with a smile as the cheers restart.

“There it is, the smile I would give up my title for if it meant I could see it one more time, that I would give up my life for if it meant I could taste it just once.”

His heart must have skipped a beat, or multiple. Jisung feels it thumping in his ear fast, trying to catch up. His fingers tingle, his lungs are heavy. His eyes fall on Minho’s lips and the world spins.

“Minho…”

The loud laugh of the host interrupts him. “As incredible as this was, I’m afraid we have to disqualify our dear friend.”

The crowd boos.

“I know, I know.” He continues, waving to ask for silence. “But unfortunately it is the rule. His Royal Highness is highly skilled in archery and this is a one man competition, we have to be fair.”

Jisung turns to the host, schooling his face into a polite smile. “My apologies for breaking the rules, Mr Park. I should not have ventured into the sports, knowing myself.”

“Child, having you participate in anything fills us with joy. Don’t be uneasy. It made for an incredible ending for our game.”

“You are very kind.” He says to the host and then shifts to face Minho and bow to him. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

From the field he goes straight into the royal tent, not even going by Yongbok and Hyunjin, lest he passes out in front of them from how affected he is by Minho. The guards let him into the empty tent without any trouble, so he just stands there alone and waits.

He isn’t entirely sure what he is doing there, but he knows there’s nowhere else in that fair he could be. If he was to take a walk, he would trip. If he tried to hold a conversation, he would stutter. His mind can only hold one thought and that is Minho.

Minho barges past the entrance, chest heaving from hurrying there. He walks straight to Jisung, his eyes intense like that night at the pub. Jisung could drown in them—wants to drown in them.

Their mouths crash in a moment that’s nothing more than a blur in Jisung’s mind, all he knows is that Minho’s arms hug tightly on his waist, picking him up from the floor, as his own hands make a mess of his hair, bringing him impossibly close.

He feels the warmth of Minho’s tongue on his own as they all but devour each other, in a kiss more intense than Jisung ever imagined possible.

And once again there are no thoughts, coherent or otherwise, only sensations. Only Minho’s hands on his thighs and the burn in his groin when his legs are pried open to fit him between them. Only Minho’s mouth on his throat and Minho’s skin under his nails.

He’s pressed against the central pillar and Minho drags their lower halves together, drawing a desperate groan out of him as he claims Jisung’s mouth once again.

Jisung is brave if there’s alcohol in his bloodstream, but apparently braver if there’s real want involved, because with not a drop of it to blame, he wants to touch Minho, wants to feel, to taste. He undoes the buttons of Minho’s pants until his hand can fit inside, with only the light fabric of the underpants separating his palm from the hard length of Minho’s cock.

“Ah, Jisung-”

He unties the remaining string and sets Minho completely free. He sees the shiny bead of liquid on his tip and there’s not a second of hesitation before he touches it, thumb sliding over the head as he wraps his hand around it.

Minho moans and their gazes meet. Jisung is dazed, eyes half-lidded as his entire being is consumed by this new definition of desire.

He feels drool tickling the side of his mouth and licks his lip to contain it. Minho follows the movement with his eyes and the hunger that takes over him comes across in the strength of the hold he now has of the back of Jisung’s neck.

“Kneel for me.”

Jisung does. His eyes linger on Minho’s face as his mouth falls open without so much as an order. Still Minho’s thumb comes to force it to widen, to rub on Jisung’s tongue as if to prepare him for what’s to come.

Then he slides his cock inside, dragging his tip on the tongue all the way in, spreading his taste to every bit of Jisung’s mouth. He holds the back of Jisung’s head with both hands and starts moving.

It’s not even a choice to start sucking, if he doesn’t he will choke. He closes his lips around Minho’s girth and pulls his cock into his mouth more intentionally, engaging his neck and tongue like it’s the obvious thing to do, like pleasuring Minho comes naturally to him.

The added stimulation makes Minho’s moves falter and then stop, in favour of feeling Jisung work on him. He runs his fingers through Jisung’s hair, letting praises fall from his lips constantly, in between hisses and groans that only spur him on.

The slurping sounds and the feeling of Minho’s cock hitting the back of his throat seem to trickle to the rest of Jisung’s body and he feels his erection throb painfully in his pants until it becomes unbearable and he has to bring a hand to his own groin. He pushes the heel against the bulge and moans at the feeling.

The vibration of the moan seems to snap the last bit of restraint left in Minho and he comes with a high-pitched cry, shallow thrusting into Jisung’s willing mouth.

Jisung clasps his fingers around his clothed dick painfully hard and sees white when his orgasm hits him by surprise. His hips move of their own accord and he forgets to breathe until he's choking on the cum in his mouth.

Minho pulls out and Jisung coughs wetly, over and over until his lungs hurt. He’s lightheaded and barely notices Minho coming down to the floor until gentle hands wipe his face and caress his cheeks.

He lets himself be pulled into Minho’s arms, be soothed by the hand that led him here and kissed by the smile that started it all.

When people start accusing him of losing his mind, he can tell them he knows exactly where he left it. Or rather he can't, he can't tell anyone what happened in that tent, not even his dear Yongbok.

He's been retired from society for two weeks now. Two weeks of rolling in his bed, in the company of his demons, in the cacophony of shame that has plagued him ever since the haze of Minho's taste died down. 

He eats only because Yongbok feeds him, because he can't bear the pain in his friend's face if he doesn't. He prays only because there’s no better way to be reminded of the person he should be, but it doesn’t help, no, because regardless of should, what is has already changed.

And who is he? Is he a man of inclinations such as his friend described? Is he just the incidental victim of Minho's turn on stage? He might be both, although he wants to be neither—and in the end, now that’s all out in the open, now that he is no longer a secret to himself, he cannot stop being it.

He wants to miss the person he was months ago, the boy who saw sex as another act of the play, whose desire was almost mechanical, like a well designed music box, to be cranked into action for a short period of time and then left to rest. But he can't, not when even in the midst of mental fever his true desire returns—the new type of desire, the one that's born from the flames in Minho's eyes and feeds of his every breath. 

The unwelcomed figure of his father looms by the door of his room and Jisung avoids looking his way like it could make him less real.

“Son, what has happened to you?” Father almost whispers to him, sitting on the corner of the mattress. He brushes Jisung’s hair away from his face like mother used to do, sweet and gentle, as if looking for that child who often needed this type of comfort. “Are you ill?”

Jisung knows what he looks like, unwashed and lying in sheets he hasn’t allowed to be changed in way too long. His hair a nest, his face crusting with tears and eyes burning red. Father is praying, he notices, one hand clasped tightly around the pendant on his neck, lips moving in silent pleas. 

Oh, what a disappointment he is. A failure of larger proportions than his poor father can begin to imagine, the fastest sinking investment of the man’s entire life.

He tries to pick Jisung’s hand into his own, to be surprised by how fast his son pulls himself away, impulsively jumping out of bed and stumbling to the corner of the room. Jisung cannot let him see the damage he’s done to his own fingers, the biting and scratching that comes with the incapacity to tame his own thoughts.

“Are you hurt? Has someone-”

“No.” Jisung hurries to answer, voice coming out scratchy from lack of use. “Dad, I- Please, come back another day, it’s not a good time. I wasn’t prepared to see you.”

“I’m not leaving you in this state, son.”

He can’t bear it, witnessing the way father looks at him and at his dirty clothes, wondering if he can smell the room. He goes to his dad and tries to pull him out of the door. “Go away. I’ll go to you in a day or two. I’m not proper, no one should see me like this. Go, go.”

“I raised you from birth, I’ve seen it all. Don’t be absurd.”

“But that was before.” Before he worked so hard to make Jisung who he is, before he put so much money into giving him the life he has, before Jisung had an obligation to even fail at. “Leave!” He shoves the man out.

His father pushes back and slams the door with both of them inside. “What is wrong with you?”

Jisung completely loses his patience. He walks back to the middle of the room, hands grabbing at his own hair. “Everything! Every little part of me is wrong and I think it’s always been.”

“What do you mean-”

“I mean I’m flawed, father.” He screams. “All the love I’ve received, all the effort, all the money, and I can’t even show anything for it. I have to fail, again and again, in the simplest of tasks. All I need to do is show up and be agreeable and I can’t even get out of the door. I’m a failure.”

He can’t control the tears that spill out of him then and his whole body shrivels in shame. “I haven’t been out in two weeks, haven’t done any of what you expect of me. What type of gentleman lies in a filthy room for this long, what type of functional man needs to be fed and taken care of because he can’t deal with the consequences of his own mistakes?”

“The kind ones, I think.” His father answers in the softest of tones, making Jisung look up at him from where he crouches on the floor. “It has always been like this for you, Jisungie. You always needed time to think, to wallow in your misery for just a little, to understand yourself again after something goes wrong. You did that growing up and you will do it many times in the future. And even though I wish I could take this pain from you every time, I came to realize it happens because you’re kind and good and brilliant. Whatever you’ve done wrong, you’ll make sense of it soon enough, I’m certain of that.”

Jisung goes quiet, even his crying stops as he watches his dad sit by his side on the floor. “What if I never make sense of it?” He whispers.

“You will, child, give it time. You’ll learn to live with it, at the very least.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Don’t need to. I know both of my sons’ brains, they can figure it all out, no matter how difficult.”

Jisung brings his face to his dad’s shoulder and lets gentle fingers comb through his hair for a few minutes.

“I told Yongbok to not call for you, but I’m glad he betrayed me.” Jisung says once he’s a little calmer.

“He did no such thing. That one is faithful as a dog to you.”

“Oh? Then why did you come?”

“Well, this feels a little inappropriate now. I was going to ask you for a favour.”

Jisung gets himself up and wipes the remaining tears off his face. “It is not inappropriate. What is it?”

“His Royal Highness invited me for tea at his residence and I was hoping you could help me with, well, everything involved. I do not know how to begin to prepare for something like that.”

“He invited you there alone? Did he mention a reason for the visit?”

His dad pulls a letter from his pocket and unfolds it while explaining himself. “You see, His Highness writes in a very… elaborate way and so I couldn’t really make up the reason for the invitation. I was hoping you could interpret it for me.”

Jisung picks up the letter and starts reading.

He almost laughed once the misunderstanding became clear, about a line or two into the text. The letter was addressed to Mr Han and since it was delivered to his father’s doorstep, that would be him. Now, with how obvious it was that the content was meant for Jisung, he could only imagine that the staff followed his instructions of lying that the townhouse was empty and so the letter boy must have rushed to the manor after him.

He didn’t shatter his father’s illusions of having been invited to the royal residence, both because he would never forgive himself if he took away the excitement on his face, but also because he had no intention of attending tea alone with Minho so soon after what happened.

Among many statements of regret about them not seeing each other and about the fear Minho carries of having overstepped boundaries, the letter also stated that he could bring company, that Minho had no intention of trapping him into any situation that would cause even more uneasiness.

That’s how Jisung finds himself away from the safety of his room, sitting at the table with his father and a cheerful royal who’s long over the shock of welcoming one Mr Han in the company of his youngest son, instead of just the man he’s been pining for—if his letter is to be taken seriously.

“So we convinced them that the cheap fabric was the rarest kind and they took our whole shipment, but at least they let us through with our lives!” Father finishes his story, speaking loudly over his second glass of beer, having switched from the tea at the slightest suggestion of it being a possibility.

Minho laughs brightly, red in the face and looking amused with the never ending stories Jisung’s father has to tell. He’s on his second glass as well, matching father all the while making sure Jisung is satisfied with the juices his servants brought over for him.

Jisung feels surprisingly good there, not finding in Minho any reason to corroborate his personal belief that what happened between them makes him any less decent of a man. And yes, his father is unrefined and uses crude words every other sentence, but Jisung knows enough about Minho by now to imagine it makes him feel anything other than refreshed by the change of pace from his routine.

“Jisungie was so small back then, his mother would have killed me if she knew I had his neck depending on pirates believing my lies.”

“He was with you on the boat?” Minho asks, directing a surprised look towards Jisung, who just laughs it off.

“Yes, imagine my luck! It was rare for me to take him, usually my Hyunnie was the one to accompany me, which honestly wouldn’t have been that much better, but at least he was already more used to that life.”

“That’s Younghyun, yes? Your oldest.”

“That’s him. Have you met?”

“I’m yet to have the pleasure.” Minho clarifies.

“I’ll make sure you do next time he arrives with a shipment, but don’t expect anything like my sweet prince here.” Jisung’s father answers, pinching one of his cheeks between two fingers. “Younghyun is a lovely man with a heart of gold, much like his brother, but a bit rougher because he took to the sea very early on, which I’m very proud of as well.”

Still in time to die of embarrassment, Jisung fights the urge to hide his face under a hand. He knows just by the smirk on Minho’s face that his reaction has not gone unnoticed.

“I look forward to meeting him, sir.” Minho smiles more sincerely then, front teeth showing in that way that makes him look younger than his age and that is dangerous to Jisung's well-being. He waves at a servant. “Let us get you another beer.”

“Oh yes, yes. I’m gonna, hm… I'll need to refresh myself before the next one, if you'll excuse me, Your Highness.” His dad responds, getting up from his seat. 

“Of course. Haeun,” Minho calls for the woman nearest to them, “please, see Mr Han to the restroom.”

She bows and they walk out together, leaving only Minho, Jisung and two other servants in the veranda where their meetup is taking place. Even if they aren't alone, Jisung's heart rate still spikes in expectation of what Minho might say.

“Refresh myself is one of your personal touches to your dad's vocabulary, I assume?” Minho jokes, making him smile. 

“That one is my brother's, I fear. If you do end up meeting him, ask about the time when my father excused himself by telling the lords of Chaconne that he would be going out for a quick piss.”

Minho sputters a surprised laugh. “Oh my, I would pay an unwise amount of money to see Sunoo’s reaction to that.”

“I was told they were all wonderfully horrified.”

Laughter still plays on Minho's lips when he reaches to touch Jisung's hand, carefully caressing the injured knuckles with his fingers.

“You have been unwell.” Minho states instead of asking. “I have been so worried.”

He comes closer, leaving his seat to kneel by Jisung's chair and bring a hand to his lips, that are rough in texture from being bitten raw these past couple of weeks. Jisung looks around the room apprehensively and Minho doesn't need to be told what he's thinking.

“Please, leave us alone for a few minutes.” He announces to the servants, who promptly exit and close the glass door to the adjacent room. 

“I've been to the pub several nights looking for you,” he continues, “I even went by your house, but Yongbok told me you weren't available. He wouldn't tell me anything else, but I know my cousin enough to tell that he was worried himself. I feared that I went too far, that I crossed too many lines and ended up hurting you.”

“I’ve read it all in your letter, I know.” Jisung tells him, uneven breath making his voice sound more uncertain than he would've wanted it to. “Wherever you went, if too far, it wasn't alone. All we've done was what I also wanted, what I craved. It did send me in a whirl, but my father was kind enough to talk some sense into me this morning.”

Minho looks up then, the angle making him look a bit like a hopeful child. “Does he know?”

“That I've been on my knees for another man at the fair? No darling, he doesn't.” He laughs softly and Minho laughs with him. “He simply knows me well enough to say the right thing even without that knowledge.”

Minho nods. “I'm sorry I had to write and ended up involving him. I felt as if I would die if I couldn't hear from you soon.”

“Don’t apologize. Do you see how happy it made him? It was a very fortunate thing, your letter. It brightened his day with the invitation and mine with your words. I just regret that I don't get to keep it for myself, since it now belongs to my father.”

“I’ll write you another one. I’ll write you one every day if you’ll let me.”

“I would like that.” Jisung presses his face against the hand that still holds his jaw and can’t avoid how the loving words curl his lips into the sweetest expression. “But Minho, I… I’ll need time.”

What Minho expected from this encounter Jisung can’t be sure, but the pain in his eyes says it did not play out how he imagined it. He lets his hand drop from Jisung’s jaw and pulls himself away from his personal space. “I understand, I’m sorry for pressuring you into this-”

Jisung catches his hand before it moves too far away, bringing it back to his face. “I suggest you kiss me before my father is back, if that’s something you want to do. I don’t believe we’ll get another opportunity today.”

Minho’s eyes light up like he’s just witnessed a miracle. He leans towards Jisung and presses their lips together.

“For the taste of your lips has dulled all other flavours and I shall crave nothing else in this life.” Yongbok reads dramatically from the most recent letter left at Jisung’s doorstep. “Patiently yours, Lee Minho.”

He unglues his eyes from the paper to look at Jisung, who sits on his bed, knees to his chest and hand covering his mouth. “This cannot be the same boy who would chase me around with a roach in his hand. What have you done to my cousin, witch?”

Jisung widens his eyes comically and throws one of the pillows towards his friend. “It’s what your cousin has done to me, really.”

Yongbok hands him the letter, to be put in a box with the dozens of others Jisung received in the last few weeks. One a day since they last met at the royal residence. The contents of them vary, from pure poetry and yearning to just Minho relating what his days as the lord of the province have been like and telling Jisung how much he also values his friendship and company.

Jisung doesn’t reply as often, not wanting to occupy the royal’s time when he has nothing to say, but whenever he feels particularly compelled to do it, he writes back and sends it through the same messenger. Mostly he sends his own poetry, verses that inundate his heart now that Minho has taken permanent residence in it. Love letters, how silly, but Minho seems to adore them, always showering Jisung with compliments and praises that leave him flushed and giggly at home.

“Mhm,” Yongbok hums in agreement, “we are now a fortnight away from the last time you’ve dragged Hyunjin and I to the pub. He performed a miracle.”

“If you hated it that much you should’ve told me.” Jisung says, squinting his eyes and threatening Yongbok with another pillow.

“I don’t hate it, but I much prefer what we do now. Going out to be seen at the market and be social outside of the pub is pleasant this time of the year.” He throws himself beside Jisung on the bed, forcing his knees down to lie on his lap. “But if you ever want to go back to the pub, we can still have fun there. I bet people miss you.”

“Yeah… but I don’t miss people, I think.” Jisung runs his hands through Yongbok’s luscious locks. “And it’s not only Minho, it’s all of you. The last few times I attended, all I could think about was the feeling I got when we played in the pool together, how fun it was, how natural.”

“It really was fun. And to think you were making yourself sick because of it.”

“Well, because no one thought to give me a warning!” He pinches Yongbok’s ear playfully. “If I knew all of my friends were kissing boys maybe my world wouldn’t have crumbled.”

“I’m sorry, it could’ve been easier for you, I just…”

“I know, I know. I’m not actually mad, I’m just whining.”

“That you are.” He teases.

“I forgive you, but Seungmin- why wouldn’t Seungmin tell me about himself? ‘Hey, I kiss the king sometimes’ would have been appreciated.”

Yongbok chuckles. “I find that it is easy to tell that Seungmin likes men, he just has that look to him.”

“I could not have told you that I liked men, let alone Seungmin.”

“Ha, that’s reasonable.”

A beat of silence follows as laughter dies down, both men weighing their thoughts without a hint of awkwardness, until Yongbok restarts. “So you know now that you like men?”

“Mmm,” Jisung weighs a bit longer, “I know that I like Minho. And that in all likelihood I have no inclination towards women, but I’m still unsure about other men. I can’t quite think about anyone else, it feels like betraying Minho.”

“God, I knew you were a romantic deep down.”

“Deep down? Have you read my poetry?”

Once again, Yongbok laughs, amused. “Fine, but this is still new and it is very sweet. Minho can be very possessive and jealous of those he loves and I believe he would be pleased that you think that way. You two are a good match.”

“We are all a bit possessive and jealous, you are the exception. I don’t know how you do it.”

“What, share Changbin’s love?”

Jisung nods. “In general, but even more when the other person is Hyunjin. If it was a woman he is required to be with socially like Seungmin’s situation with the Queen, then maybe, although I believe I would still suffer. But another man, a beautiful man who he loves? I am not that strong.”

“Oh, Sungie,” Yongbok coos, “Binnie has so much love to give, he could love a thousand men and there would still be plenty in him to fill my heart. Besides, I adore Hyunjin, talking to him, looking at him, just existing with him… If my father really agrees to let me go on a trip with Changbin, having Hyunjin there will only make it more perfect.”

Jisung smiles sweetly. “God, you really are a ray of sunshine in this world, are you not?”

Yongbok nods, basking in the compliment for only a moment, then turning to rest on his stomach and look at Jisung. “Now, I don’t want to cause alarm, but Minho will be present at my father’s birthday party next week, have you thought about that? There’s no way you will be able to avoid him.”

Jisung runs his hands over his hair and whines. “I know, I can’t seem to stop thinking about it. What am I going to do?”

“You could always drop to your knees again, I’m sure it would get the message across.”

Jisung gasps and Yongbok explodes in laughter, but when he raises his hand to tickle his friend, Yongbok is gone from the bed in a second, running out of the room.

“How dare you, come back!”

Yongbok’s dad’s birthday arrives much faster than Jisung would’ve liked it to, although he knows that there’s nothing else left to think about. Whatever it is that Minho is offering, he wants it. He only needs to be brave enough to accept it.

As per usual, Jisung is extremely well received by the Lees, having spent extensive amounts of time under their wing as he and Yongbok grew up inseparable. The manor itself feels like home, with Jisung knowing as much as their son about all its secrets and peculiarities. And peculiar that house very much is, every corner bringing to surface the quirkiness of the couple that makes it a home.

The Lees are an odd couple, but one whose love is very apparent. The father is the most eccentric of all nobles Jisung has ever met, with his love for mysterious plants, mushrooms and unconventional art styles, while the mother is a commoner, product of a very old-fashioned family of bakers.

Their son was raised in both circles, the nobility and the common men, which allowed him to develop such a close relationship with Jisung, but also brought about the heaviness with which Yongbok sometimes sees his own inclinations.

The commoners follow the religion of the kingdom much more strictly than the nobles, which would mean that Yongbok’s mother definitely opposes her child having relations with other men, while his father would just side with his wife when it comes to educating their children this way.

Even with this knowledge, Jisung was always under the impression that the royals themselves followed their religion even more closely than the commoners—the priests who mentored him have always made it look as such—and so to be told not only about how free they are to have such relations, but also how defiant of the church the heirs seem to be, was a shock.

It makes sense, he concludes, since the heirs are the ones who by definition are supposed to be in power and it doesn’t take a genius to read into the rules and limitations imposed by the holy texts and notice that a lot of it comes down to control and submission.

“Quit staring ahead like that, it’s creepy. You’re scaring the ladies.” Younghyun tells him with a pat on the back.

Jisung’s father is preparing for a business trip and tonight he is accompanied by his brother instead. If that’s a curse or a blessing remains to be shown. Younghyun is a lot more versed in society than their father and does not need Jisung to oversee his every step, but that also means that he might be a lot more perceptive to the tension between him and Minho.

He finally focuses his gaze enough to notice the group of women standing across from them, all giggles and fluttering eyelashes their way. He looks back at his brother to see that same smile he is so used to flashing when at the chase.

“Please, remember that they are ladies. Nobles, with titles, with reputations. Do not sleep with them and, for the love of God, do not get anyone pregnant.” Jisung says and his brother laughs.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone, matter of fact I intend to get them very awake.” He winks at the girls, which sends them into even more giggles.

“Hyunnie, please-”

Younghyun laughs once again, takes a sip of his drink. “Be at ease, brother. A little talk behind a bush won’t get anyone into a rushed marriage, I promise you.”

Just as Jisung is about to chastise his brother again, he sees Minho walking past the arches, coming from the ballroom and making a straight line towards them. He makes sure his brother stands to attention and they both bow to him.

“Your Highness,” Younghyun greets, a touch too early, “what an honour.”

“The Han brothers.” Minho answers unbothered, with a dashing smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr Han. I’ve heard great things about you from your father and brother.”

“Please, do not believe one word they say about me, sir.” His brother says jokingly and gets away with it—he always does, something about the way he carries himself always causes people to see any indiscretion as an act of charming audacity.

Minho laughs softly, then turns his attention to Jisung. “I’m delighted to see you again, Jisung.”

“Likewise, Your Highness.” He answers with a smile of his own, allowing his eyes to meet Minho’s and be an open window to his longing.

For just a second, hope glimmers in Minho’s eyes and his chest heaves, then he composes himself, brings a hand to Jisung’s lower back and politely gestures at his brother when speaking. “I hope you can allow me to borrow your little brother for a few minutes? My cousin is desperately looking for him.”

“Of course, sir. I was starting to worry, never have Jisung and Yongbok been apart this long to my knowledge.” He laughs. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Younghyun leaves, already smiling at the women again as he walks towards them, while Minho gently guides Jisung towards the exit.

“Is Yongbok really looking for me?” Jisung asks once they are out of the busy ballroom.

“I wouldn’t know, haven’t seen him all night.”

They both chuckle at that.

“I just thought…” Minho continues, “would you walk with me for a moment?”

Jisung nods, taking advantage of the dark night to secretly lace their fingers. “Guide me, Your Highness.”

They walk silently for a while, until they're past the few people who have ventured outside already, who all stand within the circle of light provided by the tall lamps the Lees decorated for the evening. They go into the almost total darkness of the rest of the garden, an area that would strike fear had they both not been so familiar with the property.

Jisung knows exactly where Minho is taking him and it makes his heart thump with anticipation.

It isn’t long until they get to the low gate that adorns the entrance of a maze. Yongbok’s dad’s masterpiece, a place he decorates according to the season and of which he changes the layout yearly, to confuse the guests he invites to admire his creation. The gate is cracked open and Minho squeezes in, offering his hand to pull Jisung inside as well.

Jisung follows, letting himself be picked up by the waist to be dropped safely on the higher stone floor that marks the entrance and start of the game. His head spins with a whiff of Minho’s perfume when he’s held near for longer than strictly necessary.

Conversation starts mild to ease the nerves as they make their way farther into the maze—have you been wells and observations about the party, then Jisung brings up one of the meetings Minho mentioned in the letters that he was particularly anxious for and he seems happy to go on that tangent for a while, animatedly complaining about how hard it is to win the trust of the associations that still see him as an unfit replacement to his father.

“I’m surprised you remembered that, I wrote about it so briefly. I did not want to bore you with such a tedious subject.” Minho says.

“It’s not tedious, I’m a merchant by birth, remember?” Jisung's tone is light, happy. “Besides, I have read your letters so many times that I could probably recite them by heart.”

“You did?”

He nods. “Over and over and over again. Until my head was left whirling with your words only and I was dreaming about them… dreaming about you.”

Minho stops walking then, tugging Jisung’s hand. “Jisung, you-” He steps closer, brings a hand to cup Jisung’s face like he did at the veranda when they kissed. “You don’t know what happiness these words bring me. I think about you constantly, you are all that my mind and heart long for.”

He brings them even closer for a kiss when Jisung presses an open hand to his chest, stopping his movement. He presses his forehead to Jisung’s cheek instead and there’s a slight tremor to his body that Jisung regrets being the cause of.

“I am sorry, I…” Minho says in a choked voice, taking a step back. “You are still hesitant, I understand.”

“Minho, that night at the pub,” Jisung starts before he’s had the time to double check with his mind, “did you lie with her?”

Why it matters he isn’t sure, he hadn’t planned to bring that up in any of the restless nights he spent thinking about this very conversation. But it was the moment when he saw Minho with a woman that he truly fell into his trap and he simply needs to know.

Minho seems taken aback, but the hold he has of Jisung’s hand tightens. “Would it have been wrong if I did? Would you reproach me if I used her when my mind and heart were somewhere else entirely?”

“It would.” Jisung answers immediately. “But I- I wouldn’t reproach you if you did.”

A smile forms on Minho’s lips, soft and hopeful. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not entirely sure myself. I just want to know, Minho, did you wrong her?”

“I did not. When you left, I left too. There is nothing for me in that pub if you’re not there.” He answers, his other hand coming back to cup Jisung’s face. “I went home to pester Changbin with my cries of unrequited love.”

Jisung leans into the touch. “It is not unrequited.”

Minho smiles brighter, the yearning in his eyes spilling out in such a way that all doubt in Jisung’s heart withers away. “I had no way of knowing at the time, but God are you worth waiting for. I understand you have your reservations and I’ll keep my distance if that’s what you desire, but know that you’ve been my only certainty since the night we met and that will not change.”

Jisung closes the gap between their mouths, claiming to himself the small gasp that leaves Minho and sliding both arms over his shoulders to keep him close. The memory of his soft lips has never left him and in that moment it burns back to life, setting him on fire with it. This is right, Jisung knows it.

“Are all royals taught to speak this sweetly to woo their lovers?” He asks in a cheeky tone, as his lips still graze Minho’s, watching his eyelashes flutter up close.

“Can a man not like his poetry?” Minho matches him.

“Does the man like poetry when he’s not trying to get into another man’s pants?”

“He does if you’ll love him for it. He likes poetry and music boxes, and fruit cakes in the conservatory and nights at the pub. He even likes being back to this town, when before he saw it as something of a punishment. Because he likes you, Jisung.” He drags the tip of his nose against Jisung’s, never taking his eyes away from him. “Because I like you.”

Jisung kisses him again, more aggressively than before, throwing his body against him hard enough that Minho needs to take a step back to stabilize them. He licks the resulting smirk away from Minho’s face.

Minho responds with the same intensity, forcing his stronger body against Jisung until they lean on the tall hedge that makes up the walls of the maze.

Minho’s hands explore his body greedily, until they grip around his buttcheeks so hard that Jisung whines into their kiss.

Hearing him chuckle, Jisung uses the hand on the back of his neck to pull hard on his hair for revenge, eliciting a dirty groan from him.

In his urgency to claim Jisung’s neck, Minho pushes them too hard against the hedge and the thing parts clean in the middle, revealing one of the many secret passages Yongbok’s father hides within his course. Jisung tumbles backwards with Minho on top of him, their heads peeking out on the other side as they laugh.

Minho brushes a lock of hair away from Jisung’s face, his eyes shining down at him as he takes in every detail. “You have the prettiest smile in this world.”

Jisung smiles even wider at that. Something about the way Minho looks at him makes his entire body tingle, the fondness in his gaze melts reality away, especially from this close. He cups Minho’s face and pulls him down for another kiss, so slow and sensual he can feel its heat spreading from his lips to the rest of his body.

God knows how long they stay lying together, still half within the hedge, fused into each other like the world around them no longer exists, until they hear a noise, more precisely a moan, coming from somewhere close.

“Was that-” Jisung begins to ask, but is interrupted by Minho’s fingers on his lips asking for silence.

Another moan, deep and rough, followed by a curse word. And then it hits Jisung that the voice they’re hearing belongs to none other than his best friend. His jaw goes slack and Minho’s eyes fill with mischief.

Minho gets up slowly, silently helping Jisung to his feet and into the hallway they uncovered on the other side of the hedge. They walk hand in hand in the direction of the noises, now able to hear another voice half-whispering praises to spur the other person on.

Jisung’s eyes almost bulge out of his skull when they peek their heads around the corner and not only confirm that it is in fact Yongbok getting up to something dubious deep in his father’s maze, but also discover that the other voice is Changbin reciting profanities to him and watching Hyunjin’s mouth working hard in between Yongbok’s legs.

With his sight covered by Minho’s fingers, a scandalized Jisung is quietly pulled away from the scene, in the direction they came from. Once they are at a safe distance, Minho slips his hand back in Jisung’s and they start walking faster and faster, until they are running down the hallways towards the exit. 

It takes one look at Jisung’s flushed face for Minho to burst into laughter. “Oh, my darling,” Minho says sweetly as he stops to bring Jisung to his heaving chest, although he’s still laughing under his breath, “shh, forget what you saw.” He pats his hair as if soothing a child.

Jisung snakes both arms around Minho to hug him tight as he looks up, doing a poor job of concealing his own amusement. Minho then falls into laughter once again, taking Jisung with him.

They laugh together until Jisung has tears in his eyes. “In his father’s garden! During his birthday party!” Jisung exclaims, fixing himself to stand properly.

“It probably only adds to the experience.” Minho laughs more when Jisung gasps. “You’re right, you’re right… who would come hide in a maze to do such a thing?” He takes a couple of steps, forcing Jisung backwards against the stone arch of the entrance and caging him between his arms.

Jisung gulps, arousal washing over his body at the view of Minho from that angle. “Minho… we should- we should really go back.”

Minho smirks, knowing too well that Jisung’s eyes are glued to his lips. “Will you let me take you on a date?”

“Date? Out in public?” He waits for Minho to nod in confirmation. “Minho, everyone’s going to-”

“Surely we are allowed to dine with our friends, are we not?” Minho runs his thumb over Jisung’s bottom lip and Jisung feels his knees about to give out. “Only you and I will know it’s romantic, if that’s what you are worried about. Only we will know what it means.”

Jisung lets his eyes fall shut, concentrating on breathing now that the air around him is once again too heavy for his lungs. “Let’s do it then,” he whispers, “let’s go on a date.”

Minho kisses him, drowning his own smile against Jisung’s welcoming lips.

Jisung feels completely drunk on him, the feeling of his hand sliding to the back of his head sending shivers through his body and making his heart protest at how intensely it has been beating this whole time.

“We should go.” Minho tells him, offering his hand.

“Yeah, yeah…” Jisung shuts his eyes harshly a couple of times to ground himself. “God, you’re just taking me out for dinner, I don’t know why I’m getting this nervous.”

“Jisung,” Minho calls in a suggestive tone Jisung hasn’t heard from him before, “I’m not just taking you out for dinner.” He makes a point of looking him dead in the eyes as he speaks. “Matter of fact, you should prepare yourself for me that night.”

“Prepare myself?” The words escape Jisung before he can stop them.

“Yes, dear. Clean yourse-”

Jisung slaps a hand over Minho’s mouth as fast as he can. “I got it, I got it! Please shut up.”

Minho licks his palm and doubles himself laughing at Jisung’s expression. “Will you know what to do?”

Jisung is already walking to the gate when he answers. “I’ll figure it out, Minho.” He can’t help the giggle that comes out then. “If I get too confused, it’s clear that Yongbok can teach me.”

“Jisungie!” Calls his very drunk brother when they meet in front of the manor, where their carriage awaits with the door open.

“I see you had fun, brother.” Jisung responds, helping him board and closing the door after them.

“Mmm, such nice ladies. But worry not, I have made no babies tonight.” He laughs at the way Jisung grimaces. “And you? Did you and the heir have fun in the bushes?”

Jisung looks at him in shock, his core going cold for just a second, until he schools his expression to not give himself away. “He is no longer the heir, he’s the lord of the province now,” he corrects. “And yes, His Highness was very pleasant.”

“Was he?” His brother asks with the usual lazy grin of a drunk man. “He sounds lovely.” 

Younghyun leans closer, dipping a hand behind Jisung's shoulder and plucking something from his clothes. He presents Jisung with a very green leaf that must have gotten stuck to the fibers of his coat. He waves it around until Jisung snatches it from his hand and he laughs loudly.

“Good night, brother. Wake me up when we’re home.”

Then he leans against the headrest and goes to sleep, leaving Jisung to spiral alone.

He recruits not only Yongbok’s help to get ready for his date, but Hyunjin’s also. Although Jisung is certain he is a smart enough man to do it all on his own, he appreciates the support and the energy the two men bring into what would otherwise have been a day of devastating anticipation.

They rub his body with lotion until it is silk smooth, go into lengthy discussion about how much hair Jisung should or should not have on his body for such a night, which ends with him folded in half and shaved bare, and spend hours ranking outfits according to the message they get across.

Dates are a completely new concept for a place like Levanter, although most of the people there have read about how popular outings like this have become between couples in the capital recently, so Hyunjin's extensive knowledge of them comes in handy and he entertains Jisung and Yongbok through the whole afternoon with stories on the theme.

Once Jisung is dressed in his flowy shirt, light vest and tight pants, he lets Yongbok paint him until his face is glowing and his lips are a cherry tinted sin. 

“You look like a doll.” Yongbok says as he secures the final piece of jewelry to Jisung’s ear.

“Too bad we won’t see what you’ll look like after.” Hyunjin adds, lazily skimming through one of Jisung’s picture books. The other two sputter laughs at the comment, before Yongbok is gone to join Hyunjin in bed.

Jisung admires himself in the mirror, wondering for the hundredth time if what he is doing is right. But then he looks at the couple in bed, at his friend’s smile as his lover puts the book aside to cuddle him, and he knows that in the end it doesn’t matter. He has never been this giddy, this enchanted by someone, he never felt this alive before—it has to be right.

The staff announces the royals’ arrival and all three of them go out of the room to find Minho and Changbin occupying Jisung’s sitting room.

Changbin receives them with a long whistle. “Jisungie, you look incredible.” He says, getting up to force him into a slow spin.

Jisung immediately goes hot in the face and he hopes the sheer makeup is doing at least something to help the flush. “T-thank you, Binnie.”

His eyes trace the room diligently, like it is much larger than its real dimensions, until he finds Minho frozen halfway through standing up from the couch, his jaw slack and eyes wide towards Jisung.

The view of Minho's stunned face causes the world around Jisung to disappear and he smiles, taking a few steps closer and noticing the bright red of Minho’s ears and neck as he fixes himself upright and recovers his composure without ever looking away.

“God, you look so beautiful.” Minho’s voice is low enough that it stays just between the two of them. “I can hardly believe you are real. I have never met anyone this pretty.”

Jisung smiles wider at the sincerity of the comment, letting pride win against shyness. “I’ve met you. You look like I could have dreamed you into life.”

The pink of Minho’s neck creeps to his cheeks and Jisung watches in delight as he fights to keep his bold persona while taking in the first ever time Jisung openly flirted with him outside of their letters. He should do more of that.

Minho’s outfit is almost opposite to Jisung’s. The more robust vest frames his perfect body over the tighter shirt like an ode to his curves and plump muscles and is complemented by looser trousers, pointed shoes and a variety of shiny, delicate ornaments.

The countless hours he spent lost in Minho’s figure have taught Jisung that he dresses for the cold, like most people who move to Levanter from warmer places do, but the style suits him like no one else. It makes him look otherworldly.

“I brought you flowers.” Minho gestures towards the arrangement of pink and red cosmos that has already been accommodated into a vase by his staff.

“They are beautiful, Minho.” He goes closer to both look at the arrangement and hide how affected he is by it. Receiving flowers as a romantic gesture was never a situation he thought he would need to prepare for. “I love them, thank you.”

They lose themselves in each other’s eyes once again, until they hear a soft giggle.

Yongbok is laughing as he and the other two stand in the middle of Jisung’s sitting room like three mothers delivering their daughter on the day of her wedding. “Should you head to the restaurant before it gets dark? I’m sure Mr Kang is anxiously waiting for tonight's special patrons.”

“If they keep the whole lingering fond gaze thing I don’t think they’ll be able to order dinner, so what’s the point?” Hyunjin says loudly enough so that the whole room can hear him.

“That’s if they make it to the restaurant.” Changbin adds in the same volume, falling into his usual uninhibited laughter.

When Jisung looks back at Minho, he’s just as red as himself, but can barely contain the way his lips curl to accompany Changbin.

“Should we go then?” He asks Jisung. “I thought it would be nice to walk there together, since it’s not far.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea to me.”

Already walking to the door, Jisung remembers something really important and stops to look back at his friends. “Yongbok,” he calls, causing everyone to perk up and look at him, “not on my bed.”

The weather is perfect for an evening out, the sun is still going down and it bathes them in gold the entire way, causing Minho to shine so brightly that Jisung feels like he might stutter if he doesn’t look away—and yet he can’t steer his eyes from him for even a second.

“Ideally I would have chosen somewhere you’ve never been, but I’m led to believe no such place exists in this province and had to choose based on reputation only.” Minho tells him.

“Yoons is a great choice.” Jisung smiles. “Mr Kang is an amazing host and a good friend to my family.”

“I’ve heard about the role the Hans played in keeping his business standing. Not only his, but many others. My family and I owe you a great deal for keeping the livelihood of our town.”

“Oh, Mr Kang’s culinary genius is indisputable and he would have succeeded regardless of our intervention. You can’t blame me for wanting my friends to experience his food.”

“I’m still thankful and endlessly charmed by how much you love this place.” Minho shares one of his youthful smiles.

Both of them know that it’s hardly more than an unspoken beneficial deal between the Hans and the crown. The Lees preserve their title by keeping the province stable and well-established in the face of foreigners and of the rest of the kingdom, while Jisung’s own family keeps a full pocket by making sure the town thrives locally. Still, Jisung likes to romanticize it, to take his duties as an act of love, and he likes that Minho seems to do the same.

“I do it with the utmost pleasure. Nothing to thank me for, Your Highness.” Jisung says with a cheeky smirk.

“Don’t you dare.” Minho replies, laughing and sending him an accusatory look.

“I’m sorry, sir, would Royal Highness be more adequate?”

“Oh, tease me, Han.” He gets closer in order to whisper in Jisung’s ear. “The more you do it, the harder I will work to have you moaning my name by the end of the night.”

Yoons is a beautiful restaurant, a favourite amongst the wealthy in the province. It is small enough that it feels almost cozy, without compromising the ambience of rich magnificence.

Walking in with the Lord of Levanter doesn’t feel too different from Jisung’s daily experience going out to social situations, he usually gets a certain amount of attention from his peers, with greetings and unwanted conversations he is obliged to engage in. He even finds that with the royal it gets a little easier, since people are not allowed to approach and mostly just bow from a distance, unless Minho himself chooses to go to them.

They are taken to their table by Mr Kang himself, after a lengthy introduction, then served with drinks and made comfortable by the staff. They are seated on a raised platform that looks over the entirety of the dining room and that would usually have capacity for three more tables, but that for this evening was converted into a private and more intimate recess for just the two of them.

Instead of sitting face to face, Minho opts for both chairs to be on the same side of the round table, at a distance where low volume conversation is comfortable and from where he can touch Jisung without raising any suspicion. 

As they eat through a wonderful assortment of small dishes, Jisung starts to feel more and more detached from the conversation, the spell of Minho’s smile losing strength every time he catches one of the other patrons peering their way and is left to imagine what type of comment each pair of moving lips might be making to the friend right next to them.

“You know each and every one of them, don’t you?” Minho asks, leaning against Jisung’s shoulder.

“Uh?” He replies, confused.

“The people in here, the ones that are stealing my date’s attention.”

“Yes, I- I’m sorry.” Jisung straightens himself, looking down in shame for being called out.

“Don’t be, darling. I’m not angry at you.” He smiles and runs his fingers over Jisung’s under the table. “Back at the capital, Chan and I know everyone. Everyone’s secrets and whatever dirt they hide under their carpet. But here it is harder for me, I haven’t seen these faces in so many years, some I even think are complete strangers. You should fill me in.”

“On their lives?”

Minho nods. “Give me the dirt, Jisung.”

Jisung can’t stop himself from laughing at how genuine and silly Minho sounds. “Alright, Your Highness. Who do you want to hear about?”

“How about… that balding gentleman over there?”

“That’s Mr Jung, he got famous a few years ago for falling in love with a pirate woman and selling most of his property to go travel the seas with her, just to wash up on shore two weeks later with only his underwear and a broken heart.”

Minho throws his head back in laughter. “Oh, young love makes one so imprudent.” He teases. “And who’s the boy with him?”

“That’s his son, Minjun. He was forced to marry Mr Im’s daughter only a couple months before she gave birth to their son, but he ran away on the day of the wedding and then thrice more in the first year of fatherhood, to be captured by his father-in-law and brought back in shame.”

“Oh my… what about the lady over there?” Minho changes his angle to look at the next table.

Jisung follows his eyes and notices how aware their targets are of the way Minho is looking at them, probably knowing that they are being talked about. “Minho, they… we shouldn’t look at them so openly.”

“Why not? They’ve been gawking at us all night, they can handle the same treatment.” He reassures Jisung with another smile and takes a sip of his drink. “Please, as head of this province, this knowledge is immensely valuable.”

Jisung sputters another laugh. “Alright, that is Ms Kim. She has a predisposition to adopt feral animals. Last I heard from her, she had found herself an injured rat…”

They go on to discuss in detail every terrible or wholesome story Jisung knows about the patrons, laughing away as the servers replenish their drinks over and over, until the underlying nervousness that had been bothering Jisung is completely gone and he only cares for making Minho laugh.

“Should we go greet them now?” Minho asks finally, just as they finish their main dish.

“Pardon?”

“It’s getting late and we haven’t had the opportunity before, let’s go.” He doesn’t wait for much of a response, getting up from his seat and taking Jisung by the hand.

They go down the few steps that separate their table from the rest of the public and quickly make their way to the first table, whose occupants all stand and bow anxiously.

All frowns and fidgeting end when Minho tells them that Jisung had been kind enough to introduce everyone to him as they dined, so that he felt prepared to greet them, everyone’s insecurities melting into pride at the knowledge that their lord would dedicate so much time to their person.

It’s an interesting round of greetings and Jisung discovers that he and Minho can bounce off of each other easily and that entertaining a crowd is a lot more fun when there's a second person who also knows that the distinguished gentleman in front of them has ripped his pants during the last ball. 

When they make it back to their table for dessert, Jisung is convinced that Minho has some extraordinary talent for sensing when he’s struggling and knowing exactly what to do to calm him down. It seems that when Minho is around Jisung’s heart only has to race towards love.

“You are looking at me a certain way.” Minho says, running a hand through his own hair with an all-knowing smirk.

Jisung breathes a small laugh out his nose, feeling the heat of the alcohol mix with that of his reddened cheeks, but far from losing courage. “You’re just so attractive, I’m finding it hard to keep my composure.”

Minho’s brazen façade falters and Jisung revels at how two words from him can have such a man wordless and red in the ears in a second, even if he recovers from it almost immediately. 

“We should go, Jisungie.” He grips Jisung’s thigh, his eyes falling to his lips.

“What about your pudding, Your Highness?” Jisung teases.

He chuckles and the sound of it causes heat to course through Jisung’s veins.

“I need to get you into a room soon, Jisung. Before I do something stupid.”

The walk to the royal townhouse is far from ordinary. They pace shoulder to shoulder like Jisung has done many times with Yongbok and Seungmin, sharing well humoured comments and deep late-night thoughts about anything and everything, only there is no flow of drunk people stumbling in their way, no one in the small radius the guards protect around them to create a safe bubble of solitude in the midst of the busy street. 

“I told Chan about you.” Minho tells him, fond eyes studying Jisung's face attentively. “Although it seems I wasn't the first one to do so.”

“What do you mean?”

“He says Seungmin speaks about you constantly, that at times he even cries from missing you and Yongbok.”

Jisung's lips form into a pout. “I miss him dearly, to the point where I think this hole in my chest will never fill, as long as we are apart.”

Minho shares a downturned smile, lets his fingers brush Jisung's hand. “I feel the same about Chan. There's only so much a letter can do for your heart when the person on the other end holds a piece of it in their hands.”

Jisung nods, bumps his arm against Minho's affectionately, thinking of all the letters Minho wrote to him in the past month.

“Having a piece of my heart in Seungmin's hands sounds a lot more threatening than you might have intended.” He makes Minho laugh.

“I've been told he brightens up whenever one of your letters arrives. That he will retreat to his room and come out after reading it, to complain about how you must have no consideration for his time since you think it's acceptable to write a short novel every other week.”

“I don't even write that much!” Jisung says indignantly, bringing a hand to his own chest, ready to defend himself. “What does he even do now? All he did while living here was listen to me talk, he might as well take the time to read what I have to say.”

Minho hides a smile behind his hand. “And I'm also told that along with each of those complaints comes a compliment that makes Chan deeply curious to meet the man Seungmin thinks so highly of, who apparently charms everyone around him and whose words are soft like summer rain.”

“I find it hard to believe Seungmin would say that about anyone, let alone me.” Jisung challenges, a flush taking over his cheeks. 

“Some of the words do sound like Chan himself speaking, although I doubt Seungmin would dispute any of these truths. Besides, he can get very vulnerable in the comfort of Channie’s arms.”

Jisung might never get used to this new reality he crashed into, of friends speaking so casually about male lovers and romances that are intrinsic parts of everyone's lives despite having been hidden from Jisung for so long. 

He is deep in thought when they finally make it to the townhouse. Minho exchanges a few words with his staff, then turns and offers a hand to Jisung. 

He is hesitant to take it with the servants still around them, but Minho doesn't seem worried and Jisung knows to trust him. He laces their fingers and lets himself be guided up the stairs. 

The house itself is glorious, much larger than any of the other townhouses and built more in the style of a palace than to reflect the quirky city life that surrounds it. Jisung would normally take more notice of the white walls and empty spaces that make up the majority of the residence, but it all becomes increasingly more irrelevant the closer they get to Minho's room.

The thumping of his heart in his ear is the only thing he can focus on by the time Minho closes the door behind them.

“Would you join me for another glass of wine?” Minho asks, tilting the bottle over a glass and just waiting for the confirmation before pouring. 

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Jisung answers softly, blinking away the nervousness that threatens to take over and blushing at the sight of Minho's smirk. 

He notices that the table with the wine has been prepared beforehand—prepared for two. Wine and two tall glasses, a pitcher with water and two other glasses beside it, fruits and chocolates, with napkins and silverware all in pairs, arranged prettily around a vase of roses. 

The curtains are drawn and all light comes from the fireplace and from a few candles around the room. The tester bed is on the opposite side of where they currently stand, occupying a large part of the wall and made to look imposing and cozy at the same time.

Jisung can discern two sets of robes draped over the bed bench, as well as towels and bottles set on each nightstand. His face and neck burn with the knowledge that everyone in that house knows exactly what he is doing there.

Minho approaches until he is much closer than one needs to be to place a wine glass in another’s hand, but he doesn’t pretend that the drink is anything more than an excuse to touch Jisung’s hand, which he slowly caresses with his own. He brings his nose behind Jisung’s ear and takes a deep breath, his chest brushing against a trembling Jisung in the process. Then he steps aways, busying himself with opening his own vest while talking.

“I love your perfume. All night it has been taking my breath away and I still can't pinpoint the scent.”

Jisung’s eyes follow the movement of Minho’s fingers as each button comes undone, he feels the air become heavy again when Minho's muscles press tightly against the undershirt as he rids himself of the vest entirely.

“I'm afraid I can't satiate your curiosity.” He says, swallowing back his emotions. “It's been made for me by a woman from Dingga, she does not disclose her recipes.”

Minho chuckles softly, now starting to unfasten the tricky buttons of his collar. “As soon as I smelled you tonight I knew it was another of your father's gifts. Still, I am impressed that he could choose something that blended so uniquely well with your skin.”

Watching him struggle for a few seconds, Jisung takes courage to close the distance between them again. He leaves the untouched wine on the table and frees both hands to use in undoing the clasp Minho clearly isn’t aware is part of his set up.

“As I said, it was made for me. He brought her to me, she made it with my skin in mind.”

Minho smiles while allowing Jisung to work on his clothes, heart thumping under the touch when hands wander down to open the buttons on his chest. “That man never fails to surprise me, though his devotion to you is most understandable.”

The heat of Minho’s now exposed skin under his palm slows Jisung’s thoughts and also his movements, he enjoys it for only a moment, before shifting his attention to the cufflinks that decorate the sleeves.

“Is that infatuation with my father one of your tactics to seduce me, Minho?“

The airy laugh that leaves Minho’s lips hits Jisung’s cheek, sending tingles across his whole body as he does his best to pretend that the second sleeve demands all of his concentration.

“That might be true, but I promise you that I'll still seek his friendship once his son is entirely mine.”

“I'll hold you to that.” He answers with a smile, eyes following his own fingers as they tread under the straps of the suspenders up Minho’s torso and then down his shoulders and arms.

Minho’s breath catches audibly right against Jisung’s mouth as the front button of his trousers is released and the piece of clothing falls to the floor.

“As long as you hold me, my dear.”

Jisung laughs softly, eyes closing in expectation of Minho’s lips, which find his own without delay.

The kiss starts gentle and slow, but the tension in Jisung rapidly gives way to confidence, to that same fire that consumed him at the fair, that gave self-will to his hands and mouth and that sees no other goal than to make Minho part of himself. His fingers grip Minho’s undershirt greedily, resenting the piece of fabric that still separates him from what he craves, despite all of the effort to get him undressed.

Minho understands, his own hands seizing Jisung’s waist with such force that it can only be attributed to anger. He reluctantly parts from Jisung’s lips to pull the shirt over his head, only to pull him back into his arms with doubled strength.

A whine is punched out of Jisung when Minho crashes him against his chest and claws both hands around his buttcheeks, rutting them together. He is carried to bed like that, pushed backwards across the room until his knees hit the mattress and he falls with Minho half over him.

A distant sense of shame crosses the back of his mind as he registers his current situation, with Minho between his open legs, tracing down his neck with his tongue as his body arches from the bed. But that shame isn’t strong enough to stop him from hooking his arms around the naked shoulders, and it gets even weaker when he feels the soft strands of Minho’s hair weaving with his fingers.

His clothes are lighter than Minho’s and the thinner fabric of the vest and shirt allows him to feel the heat of skin when a hand traces down the middle of his torso, undoing the entire length of both pieces at once.

Minho stops to admire him, eyes looking so hungry that they make Jisung shudder. He lowers his mouth to Jisung’s stomach and kisses his way down to the hem of his much shorter and tighter pants.

He undoes the buttons that hold his waistband and kneels in front of the bed to more easily pull the pants off of Jisung, then turning his attention to the stockings, which are white and delicately framed by lace, to roll them down slowly and with reverence. Jisung can’t help but sit up and watch, shaking with excitement when he trails kisses down to his feet.

Jisung’s state of arousal is unmistakable when Minho surges up to kiss him again, running both hands on his inner-thighs and then over his waistband to untie the last obstacle to his body.

He burns under Minho’s gaze when he has to lean back on the heels of his hands to allow his underpants to be rolled down and his dick to be freed, revealing just how hard and wet he already is.

The way Minho’s breath quivers at the sight of his naked body, the way he swallows so audibly and brings his bottom lip under his teeth like he can barely hold himself back, it stirs the desire within Jisung so violently that he moans untouched.

Minho drinks the noise right out of his mouth, pressing their faces together harshly and pulling Jisung’s lip between his. He stands up to untie his own underwear and rid himself of it, letting his cock spring free towards Jisung’s face.

The same urge takes over Jisung for a second time and his tongue acts on its own, licking a stripe to the underside of Minho’s cock until he can bring the tip into his mouth, but before he is able to finish doing so, Minho pulls his head back.

The grip on his hair is solid and no matter how much Jisung stiffens his neck, Minho can still maneuver him however he pleases, until he is looking up at his face, jaw hanging slightly open as he grapples with denial.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He says, lowering his hand to caress Jisung’s cheek instead. “Tonight you lie down and let me fuck you.”

“Ah-” The small noise escapes Jisung’s mouth breathy and shaky, giving away the shock and excitement he feels at the use of such a crude word. Minho smirks, his expression turning almost evil for a second.

“I said lie down and let me fuck you, Jisung.” He repeats, pulling on Jisung’s hips to turn him over. “Rest your pretty little face on that pillow for me, darling.”

Jisung follows his lead, letting his body be moved exactly as Minho pleases, until his forehead is resting against his own arm over the pillow and he lies flat on the bed, his ass exposed to the room.

He hears the clinking of a glass bottle, feels the dip of the mattress beside him, then the warmth of Minho’s body touching his legs. His hand is slippery when it finds Jisung’s thigh, it slithers up with ease, on the way to his butt. His thumb presses his inner-thigh and ventures in between his cheeks, prying them open.

Jisung’s heart threatens to jump out of his mouth and he feels close to panicking and running away when he first feels oil seeping into him, all of that courage left behind now that he’s at Minho’s mercy.

He doesn’t have to fight the urge to flee for long, because in the next moment he is trapped to the bed by Minho’s weight draped over his lower half as he straddles him, cock teasing just behind his balls and both hands kneading on the meat of his butt.

A thumb brushes against his entrance and then presses inside. It’s shallow, just to make Jisung clench around it and then again in its absence when it retreats. Minho hums on top, drags his cock back and forth against him.

The first finger goes in slowly, with Jisung clenching around it repeatedly as his body figures out what to make of having someone else inside. Minho is gentle, despite the way he groans at the tightness he encounters there, inserting his finger to the base and leaving it there until Jisung relaxes around it.

Jisung is surprised by the resistance Minho faces when sliding out, the feeling of the drag against his walls spreading through him like a warm wave.

Minho hisses through his teeth and pumps his own cock, rightfully excited at the prospect of fitting himself into the greediness of Jisung’s body. He scoops a lot more oil with him on the way in again, making the glide easier and finally starting to pump in and out, until Jisung stops tensing and lets his eyes close to enjoy the new sensation.

Then he adds a second finger and there is the feeling Jisung had been anticipating. The stretch is a shock to his senses and his entire body goes stiff, he gets back to clenching desperately and whines. Minho’s other hand massages over the dip of his lower back, pushing him back down, although Jisung himself didn’t even realize he had been squirming. 

“Shh, easy, love. It will hurt if you stay this tense.” He lets the hand slide up and puts pressure on the shoulder blades, massaging until the stiffness goes away and Jisung takes a deep breath, resting his cheek on the pillow. “Good. Good, my love.”

Minho goes back to pumping in and out, but now curving his fingers and sending a jolt of pleasure up Jisung’s spine that causes his eyes to snap open and a deep, prolonged groan to slip past his lips.

“Oh?” Minho marvels on top of him, fake surprise layered thick in his tone and in the small laugh that follows. He repeats the movement and Jisung swears he’s seconds away from passing out.

They keep that going for what could have been minutes or hours as far as Jisung is concerned, until the death grip he had of Minho’s fingers is replaced by the wet noise of those same fingers making it in and out of him with ease.

More oil is spilled over his hole and he feels Minho shifting, one of his hands coming to cage his torso. The other he uses to guide his cock and rub the tip up and down, just teasing the entrance.

Minho lowers himself over him, placing a kiss behind his ear as he finally breaches in, slowly but without stopping, disregarding the cry that comes out of Jisung and the way he grips the pillow under them.

He buries himself completely and keeps himself there, while Jisung tries to ignore the urge to beg for mercy and feels his eyes burn with hot tears.

Shh, is what Jisung hears whispered against his ear, just before he feels Minho pulling out and then snapping back in. A loud cry rips the silence of the room, uncontrollably drawn from Jisung at the feeling of Minho reaching so deep inside.

He is still not used to the girth, even as Minho repeats the movement over and over, and each time Jisung clenches around him and tenses up.

Minho slows down almost to a stop, lays another kiss to his neck and brings a hand behind Jisung’s knee to raise it slightly, taking advantage of the touch to rub soothing circles on his skin.

“Loosen up for me, my love. Let yourself feel good for me.”

His hand then slides underneath Jisung’s body until he can cup his painfully ignored cock and tug on it to match his next few thrusts. That finally has Jisung melting, rigidity giving way to pleasure-limp limbs and no more resistance around Minho.

Soon new sounds break the silence surrounding them, this time moans, the song of Jisung coming undone under Minho’s touch.

When a humming has taken over Jisung’s brain, Minho shifts again, standing on his knees and bringing Jisung's hips up to meet him. He is dragged away from the pillow that helped muffle his moans until now, leaving the sound to resonate on the walls with every plunge Minho takes in this new angle.

He reaches hopelessly for the pillow, trying to preserve at least a little of his dignity by not alarming any staff to what they are still doing in there, but once again before he is able to successfully do so, Minho pulls his head away by the hair.

The sting on his scalp from the way he is roughly pulled upwards runs down his body in a flash, causing his cock to throb and his throat to release a guttural sound, one that makes his entire face burn in shame.

Minho’s chuckle is cruel and it causes tears to run down Jisung's face.

“I want to hear you, Jisung.”

“But- Min- the staff- they’ll hear us-”

Minho hums almost disinterested, pulling Jisung’s head even higher. “And they’ll clean our sheets and towels too, my love. They’ll replace the oil bottle so I can fuck you again tomorrow morning.”

Jisung groans deeper and louder than he’s done all night. He can’t deal with it, with everyone knowing it, everyone hearing him. His entire body boils because of the intense embarrassment and his balls feel so tight he could burst into flames then and there.

“The maids probably have their ears glued to our wall, dear, to hear each one of your pretty sounds. And they talk so much Jisung, tomorrow even the kitchen staff will know how I praised your tight little hole and how good you were taking me.”

Jisung clenches so tight that even Minho moans and can’t continue his teasing, having to just shut up and ride what is bound to be the last few seconds for both of them.

Jisung comes with one last desperate, lewd cry, his mind already gone as his entire body contracts and shoots what seems like a never-ending stream on the sheet under him.

Minho can’t last even until Jisung is properly done. He fucks him through most of the pulsing in his hole, for as long as he can control himself, and then pulls out, immediately painting Jisung’s back with his cum.

Exhaustion claims Jisung faster than ever and he finds it in himself to be grateful for the fact that his brain can’t do so much as worry about how to act or how to look Minho in the eyes.

He lets himself be wiped clean and brought into the safety of Minho’s embrace, then sleep takes over.

In the morning when he wakes up, the first thing Jisung notices is Minho in his balcony, peacefully soaking up the sun with a cup in his hands. He takes this opportunity to sneak out into the bathroom, praying that none of the servants will stop him on the way there.

He relishes the chance to relieve himself and wash up, which he desperately needs. Last night he was too far gone even to process the sensation of having another man’s release on him or to judge himself for how much he enjoyed it, but this morning, even with how carefully Minho has wiped him down, he needs to say goodbye to the smell and the layer of sweat on his skin.

It also helps to look at himself in the mirror, to see that he looks exactly the same even when he knows something inside him is deeply changed. The gentleman in his reflection was not at all present in the room last night and yet he didn’t crumble out of existence just because Jisung surrendered to pleasure.

He lets out a long breath of relief and fixes his hair, which thankfully isn’t too ridiculously out of order after his heavy sleep. Whatever mess Minho saw while they were doing it, Jisung would like to keep it to the moment, he still wants to appear presentable and pretty for him the rest of the time. He rolls his eyes at his own thoughts.

He sneaks back into what he thinks is an empty room, but instead finds two servants waiting for him in the sitting area attached to Minho’s bedroom.

“Mr Han,” says an old man, forcing a little surprised noise out of Jisung, “good morning.”

“Good- good morning, Mr…”

“Song, sir.”

“Good morning, Mr Song.” He looks at the younger man beside the one talking to him. “And Mr Kim, am I correct?”

His boyish eyes fill with glee when he nods. “Good morning, sir.”

“Taerae and I were looking for you, sir,” the older man continues, “he will be helping you with grooming and changing this morning.”

“Oh, I- I have washed up already,” Jisung watches the happiness drain from the boy’s face and his voice falters, “and I won’t need help with my clothes…”

Mr Song needs a moment to get over his fluster, pacing near an ensemble of clothes they must have carried into the room. “Certainly a set of clothes is needed for the day, you would be terribly uncomfortable in this warm weather with your night attire, sir.”

“But I’m not sure I’ll be spending the d- ah!” He yelps when an arm wraps around his waist and pulls him mid-sentence.

“He’ll be needing the set of clothes, yes, and don’t worry Taerae, he’ll need help washing up again. Now please, leave us.” Minho says while slowly stepping backwards towards the bedroom with Jisung still in his arms.

When the door closes in front of his face, embarrassment burns on Jisung’s ears and neck. “Minho!”

Minho chuckles at his tone, wasting no time before flipping him around and pinning him to the door. “Good morning, Jisungie.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but the view of Minho’s bare face wins. He is all smiley and happy, eyes crinkled in his amusement with Jisung’s awkwardness. He decides to tease instead.

“How many young men do you even bring here that you have a whole stash of clothes for them?”

Minho gasps. “Those are Yongbok’s clothes that I asked them to bring out for you.”

Jisung giggles, finally letting his arms wrap around Minho’s neck. “I know, I’ve recognized them. They’re Yongbok blue.”

Minho breathes out a soft laugh before claiming Jisung’s lips and wrapping himself around his waist.

“Ah,” Jisung says between kisses, “and good morning to you too, Your Highness.”

Jisung doesn’t get the comfort of a pillow to hide his face with this time around, no. Instead, Minho looks at him the entire time his fingers work on opening him up as he lies naked on the bed bench, draped over it like their robes had been the night before.

Minho looms between his open legs when he enters his body again, without any pain or reluctance on Jisung’s part, and his eyes drink every detail of the view below him, until Jisung feels like they might bore holes into his reddened skin.

It’s hard to keep composure, the angle feels too good and it makes his body want to react on its own. His hips want to roll to drag Minho even deeper inside, his legs want to cage him closer, his hands want to tear the fabric of the seat and his mouth wants to let out the lewdest of sounds. And with each minute reaction Minho turns more selfish, deriving his pleasure from watching Jisung fight to keep his decency and lose.

It’s all too much and he has to bring an arm over his eyes to provide at least some barrier between his senses and the current reality, but it seems that Minho will always be faster than him. He traps Jisung’s wrist to the seat above his head, stopping him from hiding.

“No.” He says, lacing their fingers and leaning to kiss him on the mouth. “You’re the best view, don’t steal it from me, my love.”

Jisung lets out a wet moan that’s way too close to a sob. He runs his nose against Minho’s cheek. “Minho, please… I’ll die.”

Another kiss is placed on his lips, tender and soft, in contrast to the harsh thrusts that never stop coming. Minho guides Jisung’s other hand to his cock and the contact has him whining and trying to wiggle out of his hold.

“If you want it to end then make yourself finish. Let me watch you.”

Then Minho raises himself to his previous position, devouring Jisung with his eyes from above, and Jisung is left at the mercy of his own hand, which doesn’t seem able to stop its up and down, doesn’t seem to care for the burning of his cheeks or the tears streaming hot down the sides of his face.

The strength of his orgasm is an eye-opening surprise—the way his body reacts to having Minho inside as he rides the wave, how he seeks more, rolling his hips and clenching around the girth until he’s screaming—just how much he loves it.

Minho fucks him even faster after that, driven halfway to insanity by watching Jisung, grabbing at his hips with brutal force and groaning in such ways that Jisung is certain will haunt him for many nights in the future. He pulls out in favour of spilling on his chest.

This time Jisung isn’t tired enough to ignore the warmth of the liquid on him or the sounds Minho makes. He can’t avoid the expression on Minho’s face and the way his cock throbs, red and shiny with oil, and he can’t pretend that his own name falling from Minho’s lips as he comes isn’t the best thing he’s ever heard.

Jisung kisses Minho’s jaw and then his mouth while he is still recovering from his high and coaxes him to sit down and give a rest to his trembling limbs. They smile at each other when Jisung climbs half on top of him, searching for the comfort of his arms and for the softness of his lips, not one bit of that shy, insecure young man left in sight.

Jisung ends up surrendering to having Taerae assist him with a bath, under Minho’s reassurance that he only needed to do what Jisung felt comfortable with and could spend the rest of the time just accompanying him in the bathroom.

“I don’t understand how you do this.” He complains to Minho once they are done with breakfast and alone in the garden, where no servants could overhear them.

“Do what?”

“Have someone with you during your bath. Should a bath not be a calming, self-reflecting time?”

Minho laughs. “I’m able to self-reflect with Yujun in the room.”

“Just standing there, looking at you?”

“He sits down, I’m not looking to torture the man.” He laughs more at the sight of Jisung’s distressed face. “If you are not comfortable with him, we can speak to Song and he will assign someone else to you.”

“Have you lost your mind? I told Taerae that I could wash my own hair and he teared up! If he thinks I asked to replace him it might send him into a fit.”

Minho’s laughter seems to come easily on that sunny morning and Jisung’s expression softens looking at him. He is so beautiful, barefaced and glowing, with creases on the side of his mouth from how wide he’s smiling.

Jisung can’t stop himself from pulling his chin gently between his finger and thumb so he can angle him just right for a kiss, one that is so soft and wet that it makes Minho stop mid stride like he’s stunned.

Jisung smiles as they separate, laying one last peck to his lips. “Pretty.”

Minho has to clean his throat and blink several times to recover from the sudden affection. “Right, mm… what- what were we on about?” He asks as they once again find their pace, walking hand in hand.

“Something about how much you want another man to watch me bathe.”

Minho squints at him. “That’s not… don’t make it sound like that.”

“Make it sound like what?” Jisung raises his eyebrow with a smirk. “Like it’s not you but Taerae who might watch me lather my legs in soap, perhaps even shave on the edge of the bath?” He almost breaks character at the way Minho’s eye twitches. “Maybe you’re right, it could be very relaxing to have him massage my back if he turns out to have nice, strong hands…”

“Alright,” Minho says firmly, “I’ll explain to Song that due to cultural differences you must bathe on your own. Taerae can assist you with anything else you might need.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to laugh. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He touches two fingers to Minho’s lips to stop him from speaking when he turns to reproach the use of the formality. “Thank you, my love.”

Then Minho is smiling, pulling him by the waist into another kiss

They get to explore areas of the townhouse Jisung hadn’t seen the night before and the emptiness of the walls and hallways makes a lot more sense once Minho explains that all decorations have been stored away since the Lees last took residence there, almost twenty years ago.

“Are you planning to reside here?” Jisung asks, watching as the servants walk hurriedly from room to room, carrying covered paintings and pieces of furniture.

“Unfortunately, I cannot. The palace is better located for business, technically.”

Jisung nods, leaning on the railing that overlooks the entrance hall, watching the movement below them. He doesn’t want to pry, but it is obvious that the house is being prepared for someone.

“It’s an emissary from Tinnitus.” Minho whispers in his ear like he could hear his thoughts. “He comes with family, so I offered the townhouse for them to have more freedom.”

“Ah, is that Mr Choi who they send?” He waits for Minho to nod in confirmation. “He and his wife are delightful, and their son is a brilliant young man.”

“You’ve met?”

“Yes, they visited your father some five years ago and I had the pleasure.”

“Any advice? I could use his friendship.”

“I spent more time with his family than with him, but I’m confident that having her happy is what matters most to him, because he wrote to thank me for shipping a foliage to Tinnitus after their last visit. She fell in love with the species but couldn’t take it with her since they continued to a different country, so I had one of father’s boats deliver it…” He lets the words die once he notices the way Minho is looking at him, like he’s a piece of meat. “What is that face for?”

“You would make the perfect queen.” Minho pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gets closer.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Jisung takes a step back, until he’s trapped between the railing and Minho’s dangerous looking grin.

“You should join us for dinner when they’re here, help me gain their trust.” He says instead of answering.

“Of- of course, that would be my pleasure. Minho, you’re making me restless.”

“Mhm… and I’m making you come very soon, so if you don’t want it to happen right here, I suggest you start walking to my room right this moment.”

Jisung opens his mouth to protest, but finds nothing to object with. He turns around and walks to Minho’s room.

Once Jisung is again undressed and hostage to those same intense eyes that have trapped him since they first met, Minho lowers himself between his open legs, lips tracing down Jisung’s stomach as his fingers find his entrance to slick it with oil.

Flames crawl up Jisung’s body when Minho’s warm mouth wraps around him.

He had girls pleasure him this way before and there should be no difference between the mouth of a woman and that of a man, even less when the man in question has the softness of a royal to him.

And yet this mouth consumes him like no other, the soft wet of his tongue threatens to drink the soul out of Jisung’s pliant body. The warmth of him melts any semblance of restraint and Jisung moans, loud and clear, with no regard for the open window or whoever could hear them outside.

Minho looks up, eyes sparkling with satisfaction and pride. His fingers reach deep within him, drawing a sob when they brush the spot that makes his legs shake and his mind twirl.

Jisung arches from the mattress, hands flying towards Minho. He feels no shame when combing through Minho’s hair to grip the locks harshly, when it causes the hold Minho’s other hand has on his hip to firm and sharpen. It only spurs him on to start moving, fucking himself on Minho’s fingers and into his mouth.

Minho groans around him, doubles his efforts to please, drooling down his length until the lewd noise of sloppy sucking fills the room to complement the low hum that now leaves Jisung’s open mouth in a constant stream.

“Minho,” he cries as he comes, repeating himself for the entire duration of his high, suffering through the way Minho sucks him deeper, lodging him in the tightness of his throat as he pulses to the edge of unconsciousness. “Oh my God, Minho-”

Minho crawls up to face him. “Oh your God, Minho.” He mocks.

His own taste is still on Minho’s lips when Jisung breaches past them boldly, licking away the gasp that it pulls from him. Despite lacking time to recover from his orgasm, his body still burns with desire and he is past overthinking it.

There’s a desperation to his hands when they find the front of Minho’s trousers to unfasten and pull them down just enough. Their eyes remain locked as Jisung guides him inside, his breath catching at the much larger intrusion while he finds purchase on Minho’s shoulders.

“Oh, my baby.” Minho whispers against his mouth as he delivers the first rough thrusts. Jisung nods earnestly, letting small, soundless breaths out between them. “You are? My baby-”

“Yes- yes-” He answers breathlessly, pushing Minho’s head even closer, letting their lips brush against each other. “Please, inside- when you finish- inside of me, please-”

Minho closes his eyes in some sort of agony of his own and sweat drips from his temple. “You want me to come in you? Inside of you?”

Jisung groans loudly at the way Minho expresses it, the words echoing in his mind, worsening his fevered state. He nods profusely, capturing Minho into a hurried kiss.

The movements get faster and stronger, with Minho tucking his face on the crook of Jisung’s neck and applying his whole body in riding towards his own pleasure. He comes drooling on his shoulder, breathing out groans that sound barely human in Jisung’s ears and that make him feel entirely Minho’s, irremediably so.

Jisung lets his hands trace the stiff muscles of his back as they contract during his orgasm, down to the fat of his ass, that still moves with shallow pushes that make sure their hips are flush and that every drop of his release makes it inside.

It’s not long until the full weight of Minho’s body flops on top of him, trapping him in the most comfortable of all cages.

They stay in bed for the rest of the day, even if their bodies have reached their limits when it comes to sex. They cuddle and talk until it’s time for Minho to go back to his palace, to continue on with his work in the morning, and for Jisung to rejoin his friends back at his own house. And it is silly, but Jisung almost cries saying goodbye, his entire being demanding to remain in Minho’s arms.

They kiss goodbye as Minho helps him into a carriage in front of the house, something that yesterday’s Jisung could never do, but that today seems only natural. He cannot care for who might pass by and see them in the distance or for the coachman holding the door inches away from them, not when this is his last chance to kiss Minho in who knows how long.

With this one kiss he must make Minho understand how much this night has changed him—and just by the expression on Minho’s face when they part, he knows he succeeded.

There’s nothing in this world that feels more peaceful to Jisung than waking up with Yongbok perched on him, draped over his back like a blanket. He squints his eyes to bring the words in the book his friend is reading into focus.

“How are you still reading that? It’s been over a month.”

“Oh, you’re awake. Finally.” Yongbok says cheerfully, putting the book down on the mattress. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“Have you?” Jisung flips to lie on his back so Yongbok can rest on his chest instead.

“Mhm, it’s late afternoon already. I was beginning to worry Minho drained all your life forces.”

Jisung is not surprised he slept this much, he’d been so tired that arriving home is a bit of a blur. He fell asleep still in the carriage and had to be woken up by the coachman, then dragged himself to his room, where he stripped to his underwear and fell back asleep almost immediately. He didn’t even hear when his friend joined him.

What does surprise him is that the feeling from the night before is still there, that longing to remain in Minho’s arms, the underlying ache of having to part. It’s what he gains for not only giving himself to a man, but also allowing them to get so intimate as to have said man finishing inside of him, he thinks. He smiles to himself, knowing damn well he would—he will—do it again and again.

“Oh, so it was a ‘waking up smiling at the ceiling’ type of affair, huh?” Yongbok teases.

Jisung laughs. “I don’t even know how to explain to you what it was.”

“Just tell me every detail, from start to finish, multiple times, and we’ll figure out what it was together.”

“That sounds right.” He smiles and kisses his friend’s temple, then stretches his body with a yawn. “Where’s Hyunjin?”

“Bin took him to the royal residence last night for a dinner party, to distract the uncles. He should be back soon.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Would rather die. Every minute I avoid being around my extended family adds an hour to my lifespan.”

Jisung laughs again, already fully awake and increasingly aware of the emptiness in his stomach, that proceeds to loudly rumble.

“Oh?” Yongbok raises his eyebrows mischievously. “Is Minho’s baby already talking in there?”

Jisung gasps. “Yongbok! How dare you-”

Yongbok jumps off the bed to avoid any potential repercussions to his teasing. “Come on, let’s get breakfast… lunch, dinner, whatever meal it is. You and your child clearly need it.” He says in giggles, before running out the door.

“You are the worst, you little shit.” Jisung screams as he hurries to get out of bed and chase him. “Do you hear me? The worst!”

In the week that follows, Jisung learns the impact his and Minho’s little outing had in society.

It came out in the local paper a couple of days after and they clearly had information from either the restaurant staff or one of the many patrons from that night, because the writer of the gossip column went into great detail on everything from their clothes to the dishes they ate.

The part that most shocked him (and the two friends who perched on his shoulder to read the publication with him) was the repeated use of the word date. The woman who wrote the piece undoubtedly meant to imply that Jisung and the royal were romantically involved and that would most definitely come across to everyone who knew her work, since it was her who first introduced the concept of dates to the average Levanter citizen, Jisung included, in a previous publication.

Thankfully, the cheeky implication seemed to fly over most men’s heads and after a nerve-wracking first visit to town, Jisung was able to return to his regular activities, only wincing here and there when the dreaded word—date—came up in conversation, which was now terribly common.

Jisung, Hyunjin and Yongbok are once again in the conservatory, after attending yet another dinner party in town, which have replaced most but not all nights at the pub for them, much to Hyunjin’s delight.

“Since it’s been an entire week and you have not yet volunteered the information, I will ask.” Hyunjin says, more than a bit tipsy, despite it still being early. “In terms of size… How big is he?”

Yongbok spits some of his drink with the way he laughs, while Jisung just gawks at his friend for a few seconds.

“I’m not speaking on that.”

“Why not? I’m not looking to pass judgement, whatever he has we already know he knows how to use it.” Hyunjin winks at Jisung and he feels his ears start to burn. “Comfortably sized perhaps?”

“Hyunjin!” He reprimands, fighting the urge to join the laughter. “I’m not telling you anything else, you already know too much.”

“Oh come on, Sungie. Show us with your hands.” Yongbok suggests, putting both hands in the air to gauge some excessively large invisible object.

“Excuse me?” Jisung squints at his friend. “Certainly you’ve seen your cousin undressed before.”

“I have, of course, we’ve changed together plenty of times. But I think I speak for my whole family when I tell you that thankfully he hasn’t been erect on any of those occasions.”

It’s Hyunjin’s turn to choke on his drink from laughing. “Oh dear, imagine that.”

“Yongbok, you did not use this type of language before and I’m tempted to blame this on Changbin and this other menace over here.”

“What, erect?” Yongbok smirks, making sure to say it louder because he knows Jisung gets embarrassed when the staff hears this type of talk. “It’s just a word, it’s not even filthy. You don’t get to be this prude after spending two whole days under my cousin”

Jisung gasps. “It was not two whole days, it was just a few hours.”

“Hours?” Hyunjin asks. “Damn, how long does he last?”

“Hyunjin, if you don’t shut-”

Jisung is interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat. He looks back to see one of the staff waiting by the door.

“Sorry, sir. There’s a caller for you.”

“A caller at this hour? I’m not expecting anyone.”

“It’s a royal messenger, sir.”

That is odd. Minho’s most recent letter arrived just a couple of days ago, brought to Jisung by the same boy who’s been delivering every letter since their relationship started. Why would Minho suddenly send an official messenger?

Jisung looks at Yongbok, searching his face for any traces of worry, but his friend either genuinely thinks this is normal or is just too drunk to care. He swallows his insistent urge to catastrophize and walks out to receive whatever news Minho has for him.

The messenger stands out in the middle of the street, with his bright official clothes and his guard standing by the door of the carriage they travel with. He makes a lengthy introduction of himself and his duties, before letting Jisung know he is there to deliver His Royal Highness' invitation for him to visit the royal residence. He hands out a sealed letter, which Jisung knows must be open and read while the man waits, so that he can have a response for the royal upon return.

Jisung’s heart thumps as he looks at the text and he has to hold himself back from squealing in public just from reading Minho’s words. It’s another one of those intense letters that seem to pour out of Minho when he misses Jisung too much, it says something along the lines of him no longer being capable of making rational decisions for the province and it all being Jisung’s fault, which in turn makes it Jisung’s duty to accept the invitation to spend a couple of weeks managing the consequences of his actions.

His chest feels warm as he folds the letter and tucks it back into its envelope.

“Of course,” he tells the messenger. “Please, let His Highness know I’m honoured and that I will be happy to join him.”

“Wonderful news, sir.” The man says, as if anyone could refuse such an invitation when it’s made in front of the entire town. “His Highness will have a carriage at your door tomorrow morning so you can join him for lunch.”

Once the carriage is gone and the people who stopped to look disperse, Jisung turns back around to his drunk friends, who look at him with knowing smiles.

“You two better sober up, I’m gonna need your wisdom to choose my clothes.”

The main entrance of the palace during the day is a rare sight for anyone without familial ties to the royals and Jisung finds himself awestruck by its beauty once the carriage crosses the bronze coloured gates.

It is not his first ever visit to these gardens, having been here not long ago in the presence of his father, but on that occasion his head had been much too busy with the uncertainty of seeing Minho again after the fair to allow him to take in the magnitude of the riches and history of the place.

Once he’s able to look anywhere past the delicately groomed plants that frame the entire path to the main doors, he notices two figures waiting for him by the stairs, Mr Song and Taerae. Maybe it was silly of him to hope Minho would be there to welcome him as well, after all he is the Lord of Levanter and shouldn’t be expected to do such a thing, but he still deflates just a tiny bit at his absence.

Jisung is more prepared this time around to the reality that all of Minho’s staff knows what kind of relationship he shares with their boss, still he anticipated to be received as a friend when staying over at the residence and to be accommodated into his own guest quarters, only realizing he’d been wrong in his assumption when Mr Song guides him directly to Minho’s bedroom. He finds himself speechless as Taerae and the maids start arranging his things into the changing room that would’ve belonged to the lady of the house had Minho been a married man, and by the time he is done being introduced to the housekeeper and the servants he’s supposed to call upon for any need, his head is spinning.

A knock comes on the door and Jisung turns around to see Changbin smiling at him, leaning against the frame in casual clothing. “Hi, Sungie.”

“Bin.” His face lights up at the view of his friend and his initial reaction is to move towards him for a hug, but he catches himself halfway, stopping to bow instead. “I’m sorry. Your Highness.”

Changbin’s expression changes to a frown within the second. “You have got to stop that. Come give me a hug already.”

He does, relishing the way his friend’s large arms compress his chest like a comforting heavy blanket.

“Min is caught up with the council and he asked me to keep you company for a while.” Changbin explains.

“Shouldn’t you be there with him? I will be alright on my own, I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You will never catch me in front of a council by choice. I only join Minho if it has to do with the families, other than that it is his problem, not mine.” He lets out one of his cheerful laughs, the sound of which Jisung absolutely adores. “Do you need to change before lunch?”

“No, I’m alright the way I am.”

“Let us go then. I’m starving and the girls are dying to say hello.”

Jisung is led out to the back gardens, through opulent hallways decorated with the most luxurious ensemble of furniture and art pieces he has ever laid eyes upon, and passing by open rooms that make him progressively more curious and eager to explore the house.

Minho’s younger sister and her friend, sister to their King, await them at a table by the pond, distracted by two small dogs that play at their feet. They are much younger than their brothers, both still teenagers, something that’s a lot more clear in their round, childlike faces when they’re not dressed up for a ball like most of the times Jisung interacted with them.

“Your Highness.” Jisung bows in the general direction of both girls.

“Mr Han!” Minho’s sister gets up immediately, hurrying his way for a hug.

He has had the pleasure of meeting the girls several times in the past few years and would go as far as to call them his friends, despite the age difference. Jisung is still in his mid twenties and he often finds himself surrounded by girls their age during public events in town.

He allows her to hug him, not wanting to cut her excitement short, but refrains from hugging back out of respect. “It is good to see you, Yoona.”

She smiles brightly. “Haewon and I were over the moon when Minho told us you were coming to stay here.”

“We certainly were. Hi, sir.”

He looks up to see Haewon smiling at him, one dog in each arm. She is a lot more shy than her younger friend, having moved to Levanter only a few years ago and having known Jisung for a much shorter time.

“Your Highness, it’s good to see you as well.”

“You haven’t met our puppies, have you?” Yoona asks, pulling him closer to the dogs and bringing his hand towards the nose of one of them. “I’ll introduce you.”

They eat and chat for over an hour, the girls excitedly showing off all of the tricks their puppies are learning from the trainer Minho has hired as a condition for getting the dogs in the first place. Jisung has a good time catching up with Changbin, something they hadn’t done just the two of them since his return to the province and which Jisung discovers he missed more than he noticed.

“God, it is going to be nice having you around.” Changbin tells him as they lounge side by side, watching the girls run around with the dogs. “It gets boring here when all of these lords and business men keep taking Minho away so they can sniff out if he’s a good enough ruler or not.”

Jisung picks at the cake he’s half done eating, worried. “The thing is, Binnie, with all of these people coming around, are we sure it’s a good idea for me to be here? I don’t want to risk Minho’s reputation when it’s so important for him to make a good first impression.”

“Ha, the fact that you and Minho got close this fast is beneficial to his reputation. I was present once when the president of the commercial association brought up your approval of Minho as a reason to trust him.”

Jisung chuckles. “Glad to know they are making business decisions that way.”

“What, do you think the approval of the Jewel of Levanter isn’t a solid enough base for making a deal?”

Jisung grimaces at the cheeky smile growing on Changbin’s face.

The title his friend uses comes from a silly competition that happened when Jisung was fifteen, when the Lady of the Province decided to have the young women vote for someone amongst them who represented the best of Levanter, to be paraded during the month when they hosted the national games. Some of the voters found it humorous to name a boy instead of a girl and, being already fairly popular at the time, Jisung ended up with the majority, leading to him being appointed the Jewel of Levanter, a pet name that took him years to shake off.

“For the love of God, it’s been a decade. Let it go.”

“I can’t. There has never been another Jewel, you still hold the title.”

“I will kill you.” He lands a playful punch to Changbin’s solid shoulder, immediately flapping his fingers around to complain about the pain.

Changbin shares a loud laugh. “This is not acceptable behaviour for the Jewel of Levanter.”

“Quit calling me that!” Jisung whines, resorting to shaking his friend by the arm, only making him laugh more.

“But it fits you so well!”

Minho approaches them, closing the short distance from the door to their table, to take a seat on the chair beside Jisung.

“I agree with Changbin. My mother was correct in naming you that, you are a jewel.” He makes a point of pulling Jisung half on his lap. “Maybe we could improve on it even, start calling you the Crown Jewel of Levanter now that you’re mine.”

Jisung tries to wiggle out of his hold, to no avail, ending up locked even tighter in his arms, red in the face as he watches Changbin mock him. “You don’t even wear a crown,” he whines.

“But I have one, I can wear it if you wear the matching one.”

“That’s not…” He really wants to argue, but then Minho is kissing his ear and all resistance slips right out of him. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks again. “Min, the girls will see.”

Minho’s chuckle has his entire body prickling. “I’m sure my sister is smart enough to understand what having you staying in my room means, she won’t die of shock.”

“Oh, Yoona already knows.” Changbin tells them, shifting his focus to pick a dessert for himself. “She wouldn’t shut up about how her brother is seeing Mr Han when Hyunjin came over the other day.” He pitches up his voice to emphasize her mannerisms, making Minho laugh.

Minho doesn’t let go of him when his lunch is placed on the table, only rearranging so that Jisung is properly leaned against his chest and he can keep hold of his waist with one hand, using the other to feed himself. He seems so very relaxed about it all, while Jisung still feels the familiar cold spell of anxiety rising in his chest.

It’s not like any of the council members or business men are allowed to come around to the back gardens to catch them together like this, but Minho doesn’t seem to even consider the possibility of his sister’s naivety or the gossip of a more careless maid giving them away. He doesn’t seem to care that the townspeople could put two and two together and that even the suspicion of such a relationship could erode his reputation irreversibly.

To soothe his own uneasiness, Jisung lets his eyes take in the image of the man beside him, who seems to grow happier by the day compared to when they first met. While the seductive smiles Minho initially shared around Jisung were beautiful and drew him like a moth to a flame, it’s these joyful bursts of awkward laughter that seal his fate.

As if aware of the content of Jisung’s thoughts, Minho pats his mouth dry with a cloth and turns to lay a soft kiss on his lips, letting his bunny teeth show through in the sweetest expression. If that was the last thing Jisung ever saw in this life, he would be happy.

“Your Highness,” a servant calls politely, “Lord Suh has arrived to see you.”

“What, already? He’s so early.” Minho’s shoulders sag as he looks from Jisung to his half finished lunch.

“I apologize, sir. This is the arranged time, but should I suspend this meeting?”

Changbin cuts off before Minho can answer. “No, it’s fine. I’ll go talk to him for a little bit so you can finish your meal.”

Minho’s eyes grow huge in appreciation. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Changbin waves him off, already walking away to meet their visitor. “See you later, Hannie.”

The two of them are left alone, with the girls still distracting the dogs in the distance. Jisung gets one of the pieces of precut meat from Minho’s plate and puts it gently to his lips, watching as Minho overplays the chewing of it.

“Quit stalling and finish your meal, Your Highness.” He teases, chuckling at the way Minho squints his eyes at the title. “My Royal Highness?”

Minho opens a wide smile, stealing another kiss from him. “Yeah, that’s much better.”

It’s not long until the plate is finished and Minho needs to go. He clings to Jisung’s hand even as he gets up from the chair. “I hope you can forgive me for how busy I am today. I should have been free when you arrived, but my previous engagement never seemed to end and now this.”

Jisung looks up at him, keeping their fingers laced, doing nothing to help his reluctant lover leave. “Ask again when you’re inside me later, I might forgive you then.”

Minho raises his eyebrows indignantly, although his ears turn bright red at the vulgarity. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jisung nods solemnly, as if concluding an important deal. “Go already.”

“I’m going.” Minho says without moving a muscle.

Jisung tugs on his hand, pulling him down for a kiss that turns out a little more passionate than he initially intended and to which he has to put an abrupt end for Minho’s sake. 

“Leave, go.”

After spending most of his afternoon with the two girls, Jisung is happily surprised by Taerae complying to his request of a lonely bath without as much as a protest. Jisung still allows him to help with drying his hair and getting dressed, even if he worries that his choice of garment might damage his reputation with the boy.

The nightgown in question is a secret only Yongbok and Seungmin ever knew about, a sinful pretense of a dress that barely does anything to hide any part of Jisung’s body beneath its sheer white ruffles, taken furtively from one of his father’s shipments many years ago, before it could get to the market where it would certainly become property of a brothel, because Jisung simply couldn’t part with it.

Its shape was never planned for a man and yet the lace adorned bodice fits perfectly snug over Jisung’s broad chest and narrow waist, his muscles making up for the lack of breasts to fill up the delicate straps that go over his shoulders. The way the fabric folds in as it moves would have provided a woman with enough modesty to keep the mystery of her privates, but Jisung’s bulging cock can’t be hidden as easily, the skirt relegated to nothing more than a teasing barrier to what he is offering.

Jisung throbs at the view of himself in the mirror, looking so angelic and wicked at the same time, his round features and delicate appearance falling just short of negating the fact that no man should present himself in such a way, so clearly and openly ready to be taken.

He can’t even tell if Taerae is shocked or not before he leaves, because once the gown is on, his mind belongs to what’s about to happen, to how Minho will look at him, to what it will feel like to be in his arms looking like this.

As soon as he is alone, Jisung climbs the bed and faces the headboard, bringing a couple of pillows under his stomach, in order to comfortably kneel without risking his makeup. His cock aches against the pillow as he starts working on opening himself up, quickly losing himself to the feeling of it.

He goes up to three fingers, until he's loose enough that the wet sounds grow embarrassingly loud in the otherwise silent room and he knows that he’s ready. He stops, puts the pillow back and fixes the dress to look as if he's never done such a thing. 

He sits at an angle, knees folded perfectly so that the first view Minho gets is of the flowy garment curving around his entire body and framing his thighs.

Not long after, he hears the door opening and closing, then sees Minho wrapped in a robe, with hair still damp and cheeks still flushed from bathing.

The moment Minho spots him is even better than he imagined, the air visibly trapped in his lungs as he seems to forget how to breathe. Minho’s eyes roam his body up and down multiple times, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Jisungie,” he says in a low voice, walking the distance to the bed without looking away.

Jisung’s chest fills with pride. “You like it.”

Minho sits on the bed, facing him. His hand slides up Jisung’s thigh slowly, until it hides under the fabric. He nods, swallows and wets his lips like speaking requires more effort than his mind can afford at the moment. His other hand cups Jisung’s cheek, eyes following as his thumb traces the plump bottom lip, like he’s hypnotized by it.

“God, you are gorgeous.”

Jisung’s smiles, brings his own hand to the one on his face, caressing the fingers gently and kissing his palm. He leans back against the pillow, eyes locked with Minho as he pulls on the sash that’s keeping the robe in place.

Minho obliges, ridding himself of the thing entirely. His body is like a sculpture, the perfect contrast to Jisung’s own in its larger muscles and sturdier build. The sight of his cock already filling up causes water to pool in Jisung’s mouth and that familiar feeling of the air becoming heavy to settle in.

Minho lowers himself to kiss him, looking almost hesitant, like he’s afraid of breaking the delicate man in front of him, but Jisung isn’t exactly patient when his worked up body begs for attention.

He strokes Minho’s cock until it’s grown to its full size, breaks their kiss to look for the oil and to pour some of it over Minho’s length, looking hungrily at the way his own hand works on making it shiny, the difference between the graceful fingers and the veiny flush of his cock simply mesmerizing.

Jisung squeezes his thighs together, his free hand pinching his own crotch as a desperate, pained whine comes out of him and Minho throbs in his hold, fingers finding one of Jisung’s nipples, making him whimper like he’s been wounded.

“Minho, please-”

Minho groans, pulses hard enough to move against his palm, then grabs hold of Jisung’s hip and flips him sideways, facing away from him. He lies behind Jisung, spooning him perfectly, bunching the fabric up until his ass is exposed.

The next groan is so loud and close to his ear that Jisung swears it physically travels down to his dick to make it leak in anticipation. Minho parts his buttcheeks, lets his fingers trace the wetness there and then plunge deep into his body, three of them, moving quickly and harshly with the confidence of someone who’s only checking if Jisung’s work is up to his standard.

He hums his approval, replacing the fingers with his cock, bottoming out in one quick movement that has Jisung crying out loud.

The power Minho has over his body is addicting, nothing Jisung does on his own ever compares to the feeling of being taken by him. Even before he starts moving, the ecstasy of it carries Jisung to what he is certain must be the edge of insanity.

“Made yourself so wet and loose for me, baby-” Minho says in his ear, voice breathy with the effort from the short, pointed thrusts he's delivering.

Jisung couldn’t have answered if he wanted to—not that he has anything to say, all thoughts obliterated by the view of Minho’s much thicker thigh trapping his own, by the feeling of the hand that grips his hip with bruising force.

The shoulder straps slide farther down his arm with every push of their bodies on the mattress, leaving Jisung’s skin to the mercy of Minho’s hungry mouth, the faint pain of his biting only adding to the mind numbing pleasure. When Minho wraps a hand around his cock, Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Inside?” Minho asks directly against his ear, warm breath forcing a moan out of Jisung.

“Yes,” he manages to respond, “yes, please… always, please…” He sounds almost incoherent in his slow whining.

“Always?” Minho nuzzles against his cheek, letting his scorching tongue taste Jisung’s sweat. “You want me to come in you every night?”

Jisung nods eagerly, happy to beg for what he craves. “Please, please-”

“Will you prepare yourself for me every night then? Be my pretty little thing, my perfect, soaking wife, waiting for me all open and ready like this always?”

Jisung groans so loud and throbs so painfully that he’s certain he’s coming—he’s only wrong because Minho grips tightly on his cock, squeezing him shut and stopping him from finishing. Jisung whines and sobs into the air.

“Tell me.” Minho demands.

“I will- I will.” Jisung cries out, words flowing from him fast now that he’s desperate to come. “I’ll open myself up, make myself pretty for you. I’ll lie here and wait for my man to come and use me, for you take me- to fill me up- every night-”

“Ah, fuck-” Minho curses as he comes, his hand abandoning his grip on Jisung’s cock and flying to his chest, to pull painfully on one of his nipples as he grounds himself through each spurt of cum he lets out.

Jisung whimpers even more as he comes, his entire body convulsing, nails slashing the skin of Minho’s thigh as he fights to keep his eyes open and watch himself make a mess of the gown, his load slowly seeping through the sheer fabric and then finally dripping to the sheets below.

They both pant immovable for a couple of minutes after it’s all done, neither seeming to have the energy to separate. Eventually, Minho slides himself out and wraps his arm and leg tighter over Jisung’s body.

“Am I forgiven?” Minho asks with his mouth against Jisung’s shoulder.

Jisung’s mind takes a second to catch up, then he’s laughing. He turns around in Minho’s embrace to kiss him gently. “You are. I’d say you are.”

Days at the royal residence are peaceful, Jisung spends most of his time with Hyunjin—who joined him on the second day of his stay and hasn’t left since, much to Changbin’s delight—or with the two teenage girls and their dogs. Minho is even busier than he had predicted, but still manages to steal a few moments to swoop Jisung away so they can spend time alone during the afternoon. That combined with the never ending passion of their nights together has Jisung wishing his time there wouldn’t come to an end.

Originally, his plan was to be back in town by the second weekend from his arrival, so he could attend dinner with the cast of a play that’s soon starting its run in the theatre named after the late Lord of Levanter, but it coincided with the dinner Minho is hosting for the emissary to whom he lent his house—and Jisung’s presence seems to be of the utmost importance.

“Keep still now, I don’t want to accidentally drop this in your eye.” Jisung tells Hyunjin, holding him in place by the chin while his other hand taps the shimmery powder to one of his lids.

His friend just hums in response.

“There you go.” Jisung releases him, taking a step back to see the full look. “You look so good, we might have to strap Changbin to the carriage to make sure he doesn’t jump you before you even get to function.”

The couple is replacing him in town this evening, a fair trade for the manager of the theatre, who gets the press of a royal attending one of his dinners, and a way to ensure Jisung’s conscience doesn’t weigh too much when he’s entertaining the emissary and his wife.

“Thank you, Sungie.” Hyunjin laughs softly, moving to see himself in the mirror. “I wish Yongbok’s family would release him so he could see how pretty I am.” He pouts his lips a little, and it only makes him more beautiful.

“Once I’m back in town, if they haven’t released him yet, I’ll make sure to go fetch him myself.”

Hyunjin smiles again, patting the chair he’d been sitting on for Jisung to take his place. “Do you want the same shimmer or will you choose something else?”

“I’m not sure I should wear something like that tonight. I don’t want to come across as pretentious to the other guests.”

“You are hosting a private dinner at a palace, how is the shimmer on your face the pretentious part?”

While they talk, Jisung allows Hyunjin to wipe his face and start applying the base makeup he would wear regardless of the event.

“I’m not hosting anything, Jinnie. Minho is hosting it, I’m a guest.”

“If that’s what you think this is, then you’re in for a surprise.” He moves on to putting colour on Jisung’s cheeks and nose. “If Minho wanted a dinner party, you and the emissary wouldn’t be the only guests. He is welcoming someone into his house who he hopes will become a personal friend. This friend is bringing his wife, so Minho is bringing his as well”

“But I’m not Minho’s wife.” Jisung complains before opening his mouth so Hyunjin can tint his lips in the same red he used for the cheeks.

“Not literally, you are not.” He snaps the container in his hands closed. “But don’t play dumb, you know that Minho is not hiding whatever you are to him from anyone.”

Jisung remains quiet, biting the inside of his lip as he thinks over what his friend is saying. Hyunjin crouches in front of him, to be at his eye level.

“This dinner is going to be a good assessment for you. Maybe you want the same as Minho and you just need to try it out, or maybe it is not for you and that will become very apparent tonight. Regardless, you better go in knowing that in no one’s mind you’ll be there as a guest.”

Hyunjin is right and Jisung knows it. Over and over Minho has shown that their relationship is more important to him than his reputation or what anyone might make of their proximity, and every time Jisung has justified his readiness to comply on how easy it is to trust Minho, but he can’t live in this cycle forever.

Jisung takes a deep breath. “Alright, put the shimmer on then.”

The astonishment in Minho’s expression when their eyes first meet every time Jisung dresses up will never get old. It will forever make his chest bubble with joy for being the one getting such a genuine reaction out of someone who, in his opinion, sees the most beautiful man in the world in the mirror every morning.

Minho compliments the makeup Jisung so doubted and he seems unable to unglue his eyes from his face until the emissary arrives, fascinated by Hyunjin’s more provocative style.

When the guests arrive and the four of them gather in one of the sitting rooms, Jisung has his confirmation of just how right his friend had been earlier. Minho and Jisung are the picture of every couple that has ever hosted any of the parties he’s attended before, with the exception that Minho keeps them even closer than those couples would have thought appropriate under someone else’s eye.

The emissary and his wife don’t seem bothered, not even when Minho’s hand comes to caress Jisung’s on the table, in a gesture that leaves no doubt of their level of intimacy. In reality, the already favourable disposition they held towards Jisung at the start of the night develops into something even warmer and friendlier as the drinks go down and their dinner progresses.

By the end of the night, Minho is letting out loud laughs and making well-received jokes he wouldn’t have been capable of just hours ago, and Jisung can’t help but to keep looking at him, enamoured by his beautifully flushed face and happy that he’s able to truly enjoy at least one of his countless engagements that week.

Not a minute after they say their goodbyes, Jisung is pressed against the wall of the hallway, Minho’s hands gripping greedily on his butt and thigh as he grinds in between his open legs.

“You looked so good tonight.” Minho says between kisses, going down to suck on Jisung’s neck. “Couldn’t wait for them to leave so I could touch you.”

Jisung chuckles, exposing more of his neck for Minho to claim. “You touched me a hell of a lot throughout the night.”

“Yeah, but not how I needed it.” He makes a point of dragging his erection against the front of Jisung’s body as he continues to suck and bite on his skin. “Couldn’t exactly bend you over the table and fuck you in front of our guests. Although, given the way the wife looked at you, I’m sure we could arrange something.”

Jisung laughs again, this time pushing gently on Minho’s chest to stop him. “You are drunk.”

“I was thinking those things way before I got drunk in the first place.”

“Horny,” he accuses.

“If only someone would stop holding me back from solving that problem.” Minho teases, looking at Jisung’s lips but not making another move.

“Go to the room then. I’ll meet you there when I’m ready.”

“But-”

“Shh,” he puts a finger against Minho’s lips, “I’ll get nice and ready for you and you’ll get exactly what you want.”

Minho breathes heavily, biting gently on the tip of his finger. “I’ll be waiting.”

Jisung is entirely sure Minho will be asleep when he gets back to the room. He's been tired, working a lot more than he should in his eagerness to please all who had his father in such high regard but still haven’t found a reason to trust his authority. Alongside that, Jisung sees how Minho neglects rest to make sure he is having a good time, that he feels taken care of during the day and satisfied at night.

He smiles at the image of a sleeping Minho, sprawled naked on the bed like he intended for Jisung to just climb on top of him and go from there. He gently tugs one of the sheets from under him, melting at the sight of Minho turning to the side and curling in on himself like a child when the soft fabric covers him.

He strips down to his nightshirt before joining his lover in bed, lying behind him and hugging his waist tightly, until their bodies touch from head to toe and he can let the familiar smell of his skin lull him to sleep.

It's the urgency in the touch behind him that wakes him up again. The way Minho's hand claims as much skin as it can grab at once, running over his buttcheek and thigh. The way his breath sounds against his ear, quivering with barely contained arousal.

Minho's cock presses against Jisung's bottom, hard and warm and ready, and Jisung finds himself reaching for the oil on the nightstand even before he is completely conscious.

He taps his hand around in the darkness, struggling against the distraction that is Minho's tongue on his neck, the small bites to his skin, the rutting against his ass, until he recognizes the shape of the bulbed bottle and uncaps it. Minho gets it from him, immediately letting some of the oil drip on his buttcheek. He rubs the substance on the skin, letting his nails draw trails no one will see, pulling his butt open just for the pleasure of feeling it bouncing to place.

Jisung gasps at the feeling of the skinny neck of the bottle entering his body and clenches around it in surprise. He hears the proud chuckle that leaves Minho then, as one of his hands moves Jisung's knee up and the other holds the bottle in place, tipping all of its content into him.

Minho pulls it out with a pop and deposits it somewhere before returning to Jisung's hole, which flutters in a futile attempt to not leak on the sheets. He presses the pad of his thumb in and out just enough for the muscle to grip around it, undermining Jisung's efforts to retain the liquid.

The strange sensation of his own body fighting for dignity against the small intrusion relentlessly teasing him causes Jisung to burn in shame even in the dark. He takes matters into his own hands, reaching between them to sneak two fingers into himself and end his suffering.

The only light in the room comes from the night sky shining through the window and it doesn't reach that far in between them, so instead of watching with his eyes, Minho uses the touch of his fingers to feel Jisung fucking himself, up to the second knuckle, while the now warm oil oozes to his inner-thighs.

Minho joins the efforts of opening him up, stuffing two fingers of his own alongside Jisung's into the tight but willing hole. He takes it slow, making sure Jisung’s insides feel every inch of his touch as he slides further than the fingers that were there before him. Jisung cries a little moan at the pressure of Minho spreading inside him and he wiggles closer, halting his own hand in favour of rolling his hips.

Minho retreats, he flips them so Jisung is hovering over him, kneeling facing away, while he lies against the pillow, in between his legs. He guides Jisung's hips down, until the tip of his cock is lined up with his entrance, and then slowly pulls him down.

The fat head of Minho’s cock puts a lot more pressure inside of him than their fingers did and he sinks on it carefully, barely able to handle the overwhelming sensation of it sliding in so deep. He feels fuller than usual, tighter—even if the muscle itself gives in easily and eagerly.

He only understands his current situation once the last inch makes it inside and the tip stabs against his full bladder, shocking his entire body. He yelps at the feeling of pee almost rushing out of him and hurries to wrap a hand around his own length, as strong as he can, mortified.

If he doesn’t start moving, Minho certainly will and Jisung knows that in that case his chances of keeping control of his bladder are slight. He attempts to rock his hips forward, just for the filthiest groan to be pulled out of him as his muscles spasm in the confusion of riding it out and holding it in.

He squeezes hard on his own cock as he raises to his knees, willing himself to ignore the pleasure of the drag against his walls. The pressure diminishes as Minho’s cock slips half out and Jisung can breathe for the first time.

He notices the bead of sweat dripping from his temple and tries to ground himself before going down again. He manages only about an inch before backing up. He stays there, shaking with just Minho’s tip buried in him, too nervous and overwhelmed to continue attempting to ride it.

Tired of waiting, Minho places both hands on Jisung’s hips and presses down, impaling half of his length in one smooth go. Jisung sobs into the night, a guttural cry that resonates in the dark room, amplified by the dead silence around them, and not even the painful grip around his cock can stop the spurt of pee that is forced out of him.

Jisung panics through the pleasure of it, shame burning from his ears down to his chest, his heart racing so out of pace it makes him feel like he might pass out. Embarrassed tears run down his face like lava and his fingers clasp around his cock with such strength he could easily either come or injure himself.

He feels the warmth seeping in between his legs and hears Minho’s small gasp when it reaches him. He is past being capable of imagining what Minho’s reaction might be, his eyes clasp shut as he wishes to disappear.

Minho pulls him farther down his length, groaning when Jisung’s ass meets his crotch, clawing the skin of Jisung’s hips in an effort to start rolling them. “Ride,” he commands in a low, growly voice.

Jisung whimpers, moving his butt the tiniest amount, too afraid to obey the order. “I- I can’t- I will… I can’t-”

Minho’s hands tug him harder, forcing a wider roll of his hips, causing him to cry humiliatingly loud.

“I know,” he runs a hand up Jisung’s spine to soothe him, but his voice is firm and demanding. “Start riding or I’ll fuck you through it.”

Jisung nods quietly, although he knows Minho cannot see him. He spreads his knees farther apart and slides his hands to Minho’s thighs, trying to gain control over the angle as he starts to roll back and forth.

He rides it dutifully, unable to stop the moans that keep escaping his mouth, louder and louder each time, going faster and faster, galloping towards his own demise as the pressure in his groin grows.

Minho is moaning too, his hand still running up and down Jisung’s spine. “Doing so good, baby.” He practically moans the words out. “Gonna wet yourself on my cock, aren’t you? Gonna let yourself go for me?”

Jisung whines even louder, cock throbbing dangerously at the debauchery of the request, body burning with the knowledge that it is too late to escape that fate.

Minho’s hand goes higher and fists his hair, pulling him back to lean against his chest, his other hand coming to press under Jisung’s navel. He thrusts up and Jisung groans, gurgles wetly as he is made to take, open legged and open mouthed, what is simultaneously the best and the worst thing he’s ever felt.

Minho pounds mercilessly into him, disregarding the way Jisung drips over his hand with each jab inside, until he completely loses control and lets it stream hot out of him with a filthy moan as pleasure rips through his body.

Then Jisung’s coming—the first spurt of cum out of him is almost painful, it forces a cry past his lips so pitiful and dirty that it makes him wish he would die then and there. And he won’t stop throbbing, making a mess of himself and of Minho’s arm that now pins him down against the violent thrashing of his body.

“Yes, yes. Please, let yourself go- god, please-” Minho chants in his ear, all rhythm gone from his fucking as he desperately pushes his cock into the pulsing heat of Jisung’s body for the last few times. He groans and curses as he comes, hugging Jisung so tight it feels like he might break in half.

Tears roll down Jisung’s face as Minho’s fingers trace his spent cock and the wet mess that is his skin and shirt. But Minho is sweet, he pulls the nightshirt off of Jisung’s unwilling body and uses it to clean his shame and wipe him dry.

Only then does he pull Jisung up to face him, not much more than the reflection of his shiny eyes visible in the night. He kisses Jisung’s lips, tastes his tears, whispers to him. “My love, do you even know what you do to me?”

“Never had I imagined someone could make me feel this amount of love, this level of pleasure.” Minho continues after another kiss, bringing Jisung even closer, till their equally naked bodies touch from head to toe again. “Don’t be ashamed of your own pleasure, not around me.”

Jisung’s breath gets caught in his throat and he takes a moment to calm down, a moment to smell Minho, to be reassured in the steadiness of his hold, in the gentleness of his touch.

All will to apologize and escape runs out, they have no place in him when he’s in Minho’s arms. “I love you” is all he has to say, all that takes over his heart then.

He feels the smile on Minho’s face near his.

“I do too, Jisung. Desperately so, my love, desperately so.”

The way Levanter’s society deals with deviances can be underwhelming at times. They would never ostracize or outright humiliate one of their own, that would bring too much attention to it. Instead they smile, engage as if nothing has changed, but behind the person’s back, whispers are shared, glances exchanged.

That’s the reality Jisung encounters at the opening night at the theatre, when he and Minho attend together, attracting all eyes to them when they step out of the same royal carriage and walk arm in arm to the royal box to share a pleasant evening with the emissary and his wife.

On the part of the men Jisung called friends once at a pub, it is mostly the cold shoulder, which at least feels more honest than the way the lords laugh quietly when they think Minho can’t hear them, only to scramble for an excuse when the royal calls them out.

There’s support too and Jisung can’t deny it feels good. Mostly from the ladies, who come to him several times during the night to compliment his appearance and make invitations—meetups, tea, park walks, charity events, things Jisung was hardly ever called for, but that have suddenly become acceptable by virtue of him hanging on the left arm of a royal.

The older commoners seem to support him too, those who watched Jisung grow up in town, who helped him navigate life after his mother died and his father and brother took to the sea without him. He would go as far as to say some of them look proud, their efforts of raising him validated with every fond smile Minho sends his way.

Amidst conversation with those men, Jisung is reminded that the paralyzing fear of embarrassing himself and being judged has not always been part of him, rather it was instilled with every scorching glare and bitter word from the priests who educated him, who would never lay hands on him for correction, aware of the ire it would provoke in his father, but whose scolding and disdain cut just as deep.

It’s also there, steps from the bar, while Minho laughs from a shopkeeper’s joke, happy and at ease, that Jisung realizes that the fear isn’t there tonight. He isn’t paralyzed, even if his heart races every time he notices someone looking, it is not the same. It hasn’t been the same ever since Minho held his hand and showed him how to hit the target, ever since his need for approval was eclipsed by the need to see Minho smile.

“Child, are you well?” Mr Park asks him softly, snapping him out of the thoughts that kept him staring blankly ahead.

“I- yes,” he blinks a couple of times and smiles, “I was lost in thought, you know me.”

“I do.” He pats Jisung’s head gently and chuckles. “It’s not illegal, you know?” He says casually. “The church doesn’t like it, but who gives a damn about that?”

Jisung is dumbfounded. Out of all the stares and whispers he met tonight, no one dared speaking this openly. He is still struggling for an answer when Minho’s hand touches his back and his sweet voice resonates inches away from his ear.

“Yeah, who gives a damn?”

Mr Park laughs, squeezes Jisung’s arm lovingly. “I say you go and be happy, child. You have nothing to worry about.”

After that, the evening goes by easier, laughter comes to him more naturally, he is able to enjoy the play and the company a lot more. Minho notices it, gets closer, touchier, happier, holds his enamoured gaze brazenly, until Jisung is blushing and biting his lip in an attempt to keep composure.

Before he realizes, they are back at his townhouse and he’s being lowered over one of his couches, feeling Minho’s shirtless body under his nails in the dark. He is fearless and happy and he knows whatever judgement they might face is worth just to feel that smile so close to his skin, so close to his heart.

Minho’s skilled fingers start undoing the buttons of Jisung’s pants, his breathing turning more ragged by the second. Jisung starts to anticipate the pleasure and that’s when he remembers.

“Baby, wait.” He stops Minho’s advances. “I actually don’t have any oil we can use for… you know.”

“Oh.” Minho exclaims, sitting back on his heels. “We could just get it from the kitchen.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “Any oil will do, really.”

Jisung giggles, covering his mouth. “You want to go scavenge the pantry for oil?”

“Yes.” Minho gets up and fixes his own pants, offering a hand to help Jisung stand. “Let’s go, the sooner we find something, the sooner I’ll be inside you.”

Jisung accepts his hand, laughing all the way to the kitchen. “You are always so eager.”

“Says you.” Minho side-eyes him before turning his attention to the counters, in search of any promising bottle.

Jisung joins the search, tapping carefully on the tables to help guide himself in the moonlit kitchen. They go silent, opening containers and smelling the contents like a couple of naughty children looking for treats when they should be in bed, until a loud ahem startles them.

The cook assistant stands by the door, wearing her nightgown and cap, illuminating the room with a lamp. “Sir, may I help you?”

“Ah, yes. We are-” Minho immediately chimes in, surprising the woman who seems to not have noticed him before.

“Hungry!” Jisung intervenes, dread rising fast in his ever so shy chest at the realization that Minho was about to tell this woman what they were actually after. “We were looking for something easy to eat. I’m so sorry if we woke you up.”

She seems to take a few seconds to process the whole situation, but then bows at Minho and smiles. “You shouldn’t apologize, sir. I can make something for you.” She tells Jisung. “Would you like something savoury or is it a sweet craving?”

Minho takes advantage of her walking away in order to roll his eyes at Jisung for his lack of courage, but when he speaks it is gentle and unhurried. “A sweet would be nice. If you have anything ready made we could take it to the room.”

She nods, reaching for a bundle on the table opposite of where they are now sitting. “Because we knew Your Highness could be joining us, the cook prepared some of those small cakes of your liking.”

Minho hums excitedly when he bites down on one of the treats. It’s only then, when his bare chest shines under the lamp, that Jisung realizes Minho is half naked and the poor woman has politely looked at the floor the entire time. He audibly gasps, running to shield Minho with his own body.

“Oh God, I am so sorry.” Jisung’s face turns red in a second while Minho just laughs at him. “Nobles- they- oh God.”

Minho continues to laugh over his full cheeks, quickly looking around for something to cover himself with. He finds a table cloth and just drapes it over his shoulder to make himself decent enough. “I forget that commoners have a different relationship with their staff. I apologize.”

He doesn’t seem at all apologetic and Jisung glares his way with barely contained irritation, just to have a cake shoved in his mouth under a torrent of giggles from the shameless man. The woman laughs too, putting two small glasses of milk in front of them.

Jisung goes about drinking his share while desperately trying to come up with a good enough excuse for them to remain in the kitchen in order to get the oil they need. His thoughts are interrupted by the cook dragging a large bottle from a corner they hadn’t explored and pouring something into a very small pitcher.

“Is there anything else I could help you with before I retire for the night, sir?”

Jisung shakes his head and she pushes the pitcher closer to them, until they can see the oil inside. Jisung coughs in his embarrassment, which prompts Minho into his loudest fit of laughter yet.

She hides her own chuckle behind a hand and bows to them. “Good night. Sir, Your Highness.”

In the morning, Jisung wakes up to a commotion outside of his room. His staff runs up and down the hallway—carrying luggage, as far as he can tell by the instructions half whispered beyond the wall. He sluggishly escapes Minho’s heavy arm and fixes his robe to check on all of the noise, but as soon as he opens the door, a familiar deep voice gets his attention and he sprints to the front door.

Yongbok stands at the entrance, sharing smiles and good mornings, while an endless parade of men carry his possessions into the house.

Jisung can’t contain himself after what is certainly the longest stretch of time the two of them have spent apart since becoming adults. He runs and hugs Yongbok by the waist, with enough force to make him jump a couple centimeters in the air.

“Finally! I was starting to get worried, I’ve missed you so much.” Jisung says excitedly, letting go of his friend’s waist to inspect his face.

Yongbok smiles wide at him, then even wider when he looks past Jisung, to where a robed Minho stands with eyes still puffy from sleep. “You’ve kept yourself busy, I can tell.”

“I was gonna drag your cousin to your parents’ today if my driver came back with another letter. Wanting to spend more time with family, I didn’t believe you for a second.”

“Thank you for sending your driver after me, it helped me make an important decision.” Yongbok slips his hand into Jisung’s. “Now, would you be open to the idea of a housemate if the housemate was me?”

Yongbok explains everything over breakfast, how word of Jisung’s visit to the royal residence got to his parents and how it gave way to his mother’s suspicions.

She always disliked Minho for his conduct towards other men and did her best to keep Yongbok away from him outside of any unavoidable family event, so hearing that Jisung, whose friendship with her son she always valued as a way to keep him in touch with the morals of the common men, had developed such a close relationship with the royal troubled her.

By the time Yongbok made it to his family’s manor, she had already obtained a copy of the article on their date and started putting two and two together. After that, it was a matter of interrogating him until he broke.

If it was a mother’s intuition or if he was just that obvious, he isn’t sure, but she was convinced from the start that something had happened between him and Changbin, and upon getting her confirmation, that’s where problems really started.

The letter Jisung sent him upon returning to town was opened and read by his parents and his reply dictated to him in accordance with his mom’s wishes. It was only by luck that he spotted Jisung’s driver coming down the road and was able to get his hands on the second letter before they did. He left the house soon after, with no intention of ever returning.

“Does that mean they disowned you?” Jisung asks seriously, the unwelcomed sting of guilt hurting his throat.

Yongbok squeezes his hand, knowing way too well what must be going through his friend’s head. “Well, no. Not yet, anyways.”

“That would be too public, they certainly don’t want to get anyone’s attention right now.” Minho completes for him, with the tone and expression of someone who’s not the least surprised by anything his cousin told them.

“They might do it in the future, depending on how I behave.”

“How badly do you plan on behaving?” Minho smirks at him. “You are not the type to be risking your reputation by doing something racy, say, out in the garden at a party, are you?”

Yongbok narrows his eyes at him. “Never say never, cousin.”

Minho laughs loudly. “Never say never indeed.” He taps his glass for more wine, but before his request can be fulfilled, Jisung covers it with a hand, waving the servant away politely. Minho sulks.

“One glass is fine to put you at ease, but I don’t want you to get to church drunk.”

Yongbok chokes on his coffee and hits his chest repeatedly, searching for air to speak. “Church?! You are going to church?”

Minho sighs. “I asked Jisung to help me get the people’s approval, since he is so well liked. Apparently, church is non-negotiable.” 

Jisung nods, proud of himself. “I wanted to take him to the schoolhouse, but they are closed for the weekend. I’ll make sure to plan a visit soon. For now, church and a stroll down the marketplace will get people to see him.”

The way Yongbok struggles to hold in a laugh while looking at his cousin is more comical than straight up laughter would’ve been. “Bewitched is what you are, there is no other explanation.”

Jisung slaps his friend weakly on the arm, following him into laughter.

Minho laughs too, getting closer to Jisung to pull him by the waist and kiss his cheek. “I am. I guess I am.”

Life takes an interesting turn for Jisung in the weeks that follow. As his relationship with Minho becomes a lot more clear to the general public, he finds himself in a position he’s very familiar with, one that the royal described as advertisement when they first met.

When Minho comes over, they attend parties, visit the school and the church’s hospital, listen to the demands of the workers congregated in the park. And when he needs to go back to the palace, Jisung does it by himself, sharing smiles and promising to relate the public’s concern to their sovereign.

He watches as people let some of the trust they place on him bleed into the image they make of Minho, while in turn Minho grows more confident in his role of lord of the province the more intimate his relationship with the town and its people becomes.

Weeks turn into months and only one worry resides in the back of Jisung’s mind, the fact that his family still doesn’t know. His father’s boat has been at sea since the night after Yongbok’s dad’s birthday, his brother with him, on the longest trip either of them have taken in years.

He thinks about sending a letter, seeing that he knows all the stops for their journey and even received correspondence from his father a couple of times to soothe his heart, but writing what he needs to tell them seems daunting, the words refusing to flow from his pen for hours on end, until he gives up. He will have to wait, even if the anticipation of their reaction kills him.

However, his new role in Levanter’s society doesn’t seem to want him brooding over consequences to decisions he already made, as it’s proved to him when Minho barges through his door one evening, dressed like he came directly from a meeting with the council.

“Chan is coming to visit.” He says with a big smile on his face. “He’s bringing Seungmin.”

“Really?” Yongbok jumps to his feet, leaving a surprised Hyunjin behind on the couch. “It’s about damn time!”

“Seungmin?” Hyunjin asks and Yongbok begins to tell him all about their friend, his explanation fading as Jisung concentrates on Minho.

“The King? Do you mean the King is coming over?”

“The King, my best friend, Bin’s best friend, your soon-to-be best friend, however you want to call him.” Minho walks closer and brings Jisung into a kiss. “I’m so excited.”

“I can see that.” Jisung lets his expression soften, placing a couple more kisses on Minho’s lips. “Did you run here just to tell me?”

“I came to pick you up.”

“Pick me up?”

Minho nods. “The weeks before he arrives are going to be terribly busy for me, everyone will want to set up an audience and I can guarantee you that all the problems this province has ever had will be brought up at the same time. I won’t be coming to town as much, so I’m taking you with me.”

“Oh and you’re just going to take me, not even asking what I want to do?”

Minho draws his eyebrows together, worried as if the idea of Jisung not wanting to be with him hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Do you… not want to?”

“I do, I do, I do.” Jisung hurries to correct himself. “I was just making fun of you, I’m sorry. Of course I want to go with you, I would die if I had to spend weeks away from you.”

The bunny teeth make an appearance as Minho’s face lights up. “Go get your stuff, we leave as soon as you’re ready.”

“Not only will it make the King happier to have his dog in the room with him, it is also more responsible on our part. We have two males, what if his precious Berry ends up pregnant?” Jisung tells Mr Song and Ms Kang, the housekeeper, making both of them laugh.

He’s standing in the changing room attached to Minho’s bedroom, while Taerae helps him dress for dinner—something that he is already used to, no longer shy about having the young man around for his post-bath routine.

“I just hope she doesn’t get into relieving herself indoors like the other two, especially not in the room with the new rugs.” Ms Kang complains, ignoring the exasperated look she gets from her coworker.

Jisung chuckles. “She is much older than our puppies, I’m sure the King and the Queen trained her well. Besides, if necessary we can always replace the rug, my father still does business with the supplier regularly.” He lets Taerae fix a stud to his ear, still directing his attention to the other two. “Is there anything else we need to go over today?”

“Only about the flowers that are going to be delivered…” Mr Song starts, only to be interrupted by Minho coming through the door.

“Dinner plans are cancelled. My uncle was too unwell to finish our audience, he is on his way home now.” He walks closer to peck Jisung’s lips.

Mr Song stirs, certainly already running over what to do about the change of plans in his head. “Will you and Mr Han want to have dinner in the dining hall, sir?”

“No, you can send dinner to our room later. Changbin is home, he’ll come in and we will eat here.”

He nods and bows. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.”

“Of course.” Minho smiles sweetly. “You too, Ms. I would like to have Jisung for myself this evening, preparations can continue tomorrow.”

After both servants take their leave, Minho takes a hesitant Jisung into his arms, claiming his lips a lot more avidly and cupping both of his buttcheeks with his hands. He startles when the noise of someone clearing their throat sounds in the room. “Oh God, Taerae! Why are you so quiet?”

Jisung laughs at how red Minho turns in a second, doing his best to overcome the blushing that takes over his own face.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I- hm… will I be needed again this evening?” The poor boy asks, twice as red as either of them.

Minho grins. “No, you go rest. I’ll help him undress.”

“Minho!” Jisung immediately complains. “I’m sorry, Taerae. Please, go rest. And ignore him. Always, forever. Please.”

“Don’t do that, Taerae. I’m pretty sure it would be treason.”

“No, it wouldn’t. Leave him alone. I’m sorry, Taerae!” Jisung has to scream to the man already bowing his way out the door, as Minho drags him to bed.

When Changbin arrives to have dinner with them, Jisung is sound asleep. Minho wakes him up when everything is ready and instructs him to keep his robe, since it’s just them.

It’s a calm, pleasant evening, much needed for the three of them, who have been caught up in different fronts of the preparation for the royal stay. They drink together, catching up on conversation for hours after the food is over.

Minho and Jisung lie together on the couch in front of the fireplace, cuddled, facing Changbin, who sits in the armchair beside them.

Jisung finds it hard to tell when the loving hand on his thigh turned into Minho grabbing his butt and riding his robe up, or when the innocent nosing of his cheek turned into dirty, wet kisses that threaten to take his breath away. All he knows is the burning fire on his lower belly when he looks at his friend across the room and gets a smirk in return, as Changbin relaxes in the chair to watch.

Minho undresses him slowly, even if all he needs to do is untie the sash. He makes a point of touching and tasting every inch of his newly exposed skin, while his erection presses hard against Jisung’s butt, barely concealed by the short underpants he wore for the evening.

It’s only when he’s pulled up to Minho’s lap, to sit naked, with legs spread, facing his friend, and feels the remnants of the sex they had earlier leaking out that shame starts catching up with him.

Changbin’s voice comes as a physical weight that prevents him from even trying to hide. “I knew you were the type to have your man coming inside.”

“Do you hear that, baby?” Minho says by his ear, though he is not whispering, but rather intending to be heard all the way across the room. “He could tell what you are just by the way you look.”

Jisung shivers on top of him, overwhelmed by the sensation of being watched and by the anticipation of the cock that now rubs against his bottom, teasing to enter him, to leave him even more exposed than he already is.

“Should I tell him everything then?” Minho continues, a hand running down Jisung’s naked torso to wrap around his aching length and make him writhe. “About how you love being bred, how you beg for it? How you cry if I pull out, whine like a bitch in heat until I give you what you want?”

Jisung moans when Minho finally forces his way in, a lewd and loud sound that makes his cheeks burn from the shame of how much he likes it. He loves and hates when Minho uses those words, loves and hates that Changbin is there to witness them.

“He likes being overheard, Bin. By the maids, by the stablemen, but especially by you and Hyunjin. Loves to know you might walk in on us when I fuck him in one of the writing rooms…”

“Loves rubbing against your cock in public, the whore.” Changbin adds.

Jisung gasps loudly and Minho takes the opportunity to start thrusting into him, laughing quietly and menacingly against his ear.

“What Jisungie? Don’t tell me you thought no one would notice.” Changbin’s sweet tone only makes his teasing worse. “It’s pretty, the way you turn red when he grinds on you, like your body is so conditioned to being used that the slightest suggestion of his cock makes you lose all self-respect.”

Jisung can’t help the short, broken moans that keep leaving his lips with each of Minho’s movements. They only get worse as his friend’s words spiral in his mind. Changbin is right, only a whore would find themselves where he is right now. He tries to close his legs, to preserve what is left of his dignity, but Minho stops him, plunging even deeper into his body and making him cry out in humiliating pleasure.

“Oh, are you ashamed now, darling? You willingly spread your legs for him to watch you get fucked but can’t listen to the consequences of your actions?” One of his hands keeps Jisung’s legs open, the other presses their upper bodies together by holding his chest. “If you’re gonna be a whore then own up to it.” He pinches the one nipple within reach. “Tell him.”

Changbin is the picture of composure, calmly refilling his wine glass, sipping his drink like he’s doing nothing more than enjoying the crackling of the fire, instead of watching Jisung fall apart moan after moan in front of him.

“If you don’t then I’ll tell him even more of what you do.” Minho threatens, voice breaking with the effort of fucking him in that position. “Go ahead and tell him you’re a whore.”

Jisung tries to gather the strength to say it—they all know it, they all see him for what he is, he can just say it. But the words get stuck in his throat, his heart beating too fast, his mind spinning. He can’t say it.

“Last time I got him in this position…” He hears Minho saying and startles. Minho can’t possibly be talking about that, he can’t tell Changbin about that.

His heart beats so fast he fears it might actually give out, his entire body burns and tingles. He is so ashamed he feels like crying, a lump in his throat that makes it almost impossible to breathe. But the most distracting of all is the tightness in his balls, how his cock throbs uncontrollably at the notion of being exposed in that way too.

“He made such a mess when he wet-”

It’s all it takes for Jisung to come, shuddering on Minho’s lap, almost silently when compared to how loud he was before. He covers his own stomach in cum, taking Minho with him as he pulses wildly around him, until his mind is filled with nothing but the loud buzz of post strain ecstasy.

The teasing is over immediately. Minho kisses his ear and whispers a praise softly, allowing Jisung to hide behind his hand so that he doesn’t need to look at Changbin just yet.

He feels when his friend drapes the robe over his body and runs a soothing hand on his hair, hears when he places a kiss on Minho’s temple and then walks out of the room.

They remain quiet when Minho carries him to the bathroom, wrapped in the robe, and sits him by the tub while it fills up. The same when he’s lowered down into the warm water and washed clean by his attentive hands.

Under the dim light in the bathroom, Minho’s body takes an almost otherworldly aspect in the shading of his muscles and in the remarkable sharpness of his features. Tired as he is, Jisung’s body still craves him as he looms close enough for him to see each bobbing of his throat, each pulse of his veins.

This craving is more than passion, more than physical. It’s a want so acute that it escapes the body and seeps into Jisung’s soul.

“You are gorgeous.” Jisung whispers into the miniscule space between them, melting under the lips that come to litter kisses on his shoulder and collarbones. “Each part of you. Each word you speak, each laugh. Each one of your touches and every time you take a breath. It is all so beautiful.” His voice is airy, his heart beating erratically with the way Minho bites his neck, licks his skin. “Minho, I adore you. In ways I didn’t know humans could, ways I didn’t know I could. I thought I was alive before you, but I wasn’t. No, you’re life for me. It’s what you are.”

By this point passion would usually boil, make words into touch and want into pleasure, but instead it simmers, forcing Jisung to face how much he needs Minho and the intensity of his love.

Minho understands, his kiss then transcends desire and is the closest love will ever get to becoming palpable in Jisung’s world.

“I want you to be mine. My husband.” Minho looks into his eyes as he pants the words out. “I want the world to know what we have. I must tell this entire kingdom that I love you and that you love me back.”

Jisung prays that the proximity of their chests allows Minho to feel the thumping of his heart as he answers. “If you possess such power, then do it, my love.”

Light fills Minho’s hopeful eyes, makes him look innocent, childish and wide-eyed in the face of wonder. “Is… is it what you want?”

A smile forms on Jisung’s face, sincere and insuppressible. He tangles his fingers with the hair in the back of Minho’s head, pressing their foreheads together. “I want to be yours in any way imaginable. My body, my soul, my future, it's all yours to take. If you can make me yours under the eyes of the law, then take me. Before the King and the public, before every single person I've ever met. I’m yours.”

The procession that leads the King to the palace appears breathtaking from the privileged high view of the entrance steps, where Jisung waits beside the Lord of Levanter and accompanied by the select few that make up Minho’s personal circle—the Heir of Haven, their sisters and a couple of uncles of high enough ranking.

He feels out of place, jittery, nervous. As comprehensive and strict as his education was, nothing prepared him for such a situation, for the sudden change in status that comes with having his arm hooked with and his hand gently held by the man wearing the crown, while they wait for the one who is to him first a brother and only second a king.

It’s late when they cross the gates, the sun already hiding in the sky, bathing in gold and red the already beautiful garden of the royal residence. The King and Queen come in an open carriage, after parading through Levanter’s capital, to wave at the excited subjects that filled the meticulously decorated streets and waited days and hours for a chance to see them.

Jisung is no different from anyone else in town, when the royal couple approaches, he finds himself mesmerized by their imposing beauty and just their presence makes his heart beat impossibly fast.

Bang Chan’s expression when he finally sees Minho is one of such genuine excitement that it looks out of place when contrasted with the grandiose of their surroundings. He smiles, eyes crinkling and dimples showing on both sides of his pretty mouth, before pulling Minho into his embrace.

Wearing the exact same crown, they don’t need to bow at each other—the lords of the provinces and the king are of the same ranking, always. Instead, they greet one another like family, raised as brothers and separated against their will for the benefit of their kingdom.

Still an heir, Changbin does bow to his king, seconds before closing the distance between them with tears in his eyes and getting him into a hug that speaks loudly of their brotherhood.

They greet the Queen and then Minho brings Jisung into their view. He bows to both, surprised by the intimacy with which King Chan grabs his hand to tell him how exciting it is to finally meet.

More surprising yet is the way Queen Jamie hooks arms with him to walk into the house. Jisung offers her his politest smile, even as his knees wobble in disbelief.

“Your home is magnificent.” She tells him as they pass from the entrance hall to the main sitting room. “These flowers are simply perfect.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but can’t make up his mind on what to say. He can’t correct the Queen. Hyunjin’s words come to memory, telling him that in no one’s mind he is there as a guest. He did choose the flowers, the entire decoration at that, the food, the music—it was all him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” it’s what he settles for, “Levanter is blessed with the most delicate blooms, it is my pride to be able to show them to you.”

She smiles wide. She looks nice, sweet like her husband. “I would love it if you could take me to the fields so I can see them in nature. It is my first visit to this province and I’m told you know it like no one else.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

Minho approaches them with a child of about four or five in his arms. “Baby,” he calls Jisung, at ease now that they’re out of the public eye, “this is Jake, he’s Chan’s heir. Jake, this is Jisung, your new uncle.”

The boy waves at him shyly and Jisung almost doesn’t have the strength to wave back, grappling with the sentence that just came out of Minho’s mouth.

He probably should bow, but his knees do that thing again where they want to buckle when he gets dizzy. He smiles softly at the child. “Hi, Jake.”

“Hi, uncle.” He replies and Minho’s face lights up with happiness.

“New uncle, huh.” Says a familiar voice behind him that makes Jisung turn on his heels and immediately start crying. Seungmin stands just a few steps away from him, arms stretched out for a hug. Jisung runs to him and Seungmin’s hands wrap around him tightly. “I leave for a year and you find yourself a whole royal to fall in love with, who would’ve thought?”

All types of feelings arise in Jisung’s chest when he looks at himself in the mirror while wearing the fully white ensemble that so strongly resembles a wedding dress. It isn’t one, but it is the most beautiful suit Jisung has ever worn or even seen, offered to him by his soon-to-be husband and fashioned to flare at the base like the train of a bridal dress.

Cued by the silent awe visible in his reflection, the woman who has been working tirelessly on the outfit for weeks takes a step back, smiling. “I'll give you a few moments. Please, call for me when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” He nods, still half hypnotized by the image he makes.

Seungmin whistles a long tune once they are left alone in the room. “That might be the best wedding suit I’ve ever seen. You look like a princess.” He stares at Jisung’s face in the mirror, leaning in with his eyebrows knitted together. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it. It’s just… isn’t it too grand?” Jisung turns to check the reflection of the back. “We are just getting a blessing from the King. Should it really be this big?”

“It is the first of its kind, so I guess it is as big as you and Minho wish it to be.” Seungmin approaches, tucks Jisung's hair behind his ear and smiles to reassure his friend. “Have you tried it on with the family jewels?”

“I did last time. I should have them today also, but I just didn’t want to go through the process of getting them out of the display again. It’s way too much work.” They both chuckle at that. “We haven’t told anyone in town yet, because I don’t want it to get to my father before we speak, but I know Minho has invited some family.” He starts undoing the few buttons on the front of his clothes, satisfied with the final fitting.

“Not some family, he invited everyone. I got my letter when we were on the way to Levanter already, so did Chan. Word is that he sent letters to the entirety of the three families.”

Jisung can’t help but laugh at Minho’s eagerness. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s true. The morning after I said yes, I woke up to him at his desk, hard at work writing those.”

“We will know soon how big it will get, since people should start arriving in the next couple of days. I expect my uncle to be here tomorrow, which is why Changbin has left for your townhouse already. And Chan’s dad arrives this weekend.”

“I can’t believe all of the Lords are attending my… wedding.” Jisung says hesitantly, still unsure about using that word.

“It’s a wedding.” Seungmin reassures while helping his friend out of the more difficult parts of the outfit, laying the pieces over the seating near them.

“The church will never recognize it as such, though.”

“They don’t need to. If one of the Lords says it’s a legal marriage, then it’s lawful. And you happen to have all of them and the King on board.”

Jisung smiles softly and nods, once again dressed with normal clothes.

“He used to retch at the mention of the word marriage, did you know?” Seungmin rolls his eyes at the memory. “As recently as Chan’s wedding, he got drunk the night before and cried at the idea of him having to wed someday.”

A knock comes on the door then and Mr Song comes in after being acknowledged.

“Excuse me, sir. Your father is waiting for you downstairs.”

Because of King Chan’s arrival, Jisung missed the docking of his father’s boat and only heard of it after, via letter.

He planned to visit the manor this evening, spend the night in the hopes of having a long conversation with his father and brother before they caught wind of any gossip about his long stay at the royal residence or his and Minho’s appearances in town. His father showing up instead, with no invitation, tells him that it might be already too late.

Apprehension causes his hands to shake when he pushes open the door of the small sitting room. “Dad,” he calls lovingly, “I’m so happy to see you again, that was such a long journey.”

“Son,” his dad smiles from ear to ear, getting up from his seat to embrace him, “it was about time I went on one of those, was starting to get used to the easy life. You missed me much?”

“Every single day that you were gone.” He smiles, taking the man by the hand to sit them face to face on the couch, the sincere expression on his face enough to start easing the strain on Jisung’s nerves.

“Oh, I brought you such nice things. We got our hands on a type of cactus, Hyunnie has the details, but it will look gorgeous in your sunroom. I even brought Minho- uh, sorry, His Highness, I brought him a case of this beer we’ve tried…”

His dad goes on and on for several minutes, excitedly telling him about the places they stopped at, interesting things they’ve seen, dangers they faced.

“Enough about me, though. Tell me about you.” He lays a hand over Jisung’s shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. “You are unusually quiet.”

“I- I, uh… I’m well…” Jisung has to blink a couple of times, trying to get a hold of his thoughts that have been bouncing between relief and anxiety the entire time. “You’ve come to tell me about your trip?”

It’s his dad’s turn to be confused, he tilts his head slightly. “Oh, no, no. I mean, I did come a little early because I knew you would be around and I might get lucky and see you, but I came for an audience with King Chan.”

“You have an audience with the King? What about?”

“Well, it was originally just with Minho, but since the King is here, that’s even better. We’re gonna turn Levanter into a commercial centre, but it’s only my fleet and the deal I was out closing that will allow that, so I was gonna ask His Highness to guarantee us a head start, you know, at least a few years of exclusivity. But then I got a letter about strengthening our ties with the crown, so I’m gonna hear what they have to say first.”

“Oh,” Jisung does his best to conceal the shock that washes over his body, “so you haven’t- you didn’t hear anything about me and- and Minho?”

“I’m not deaf, Jisungie, of course I’ve heard about you and Minho. The town talks about you two almost as often as they talk about the King.”

Jisung’s heart beats so fast he starts feeling dizzy. He tries to breathe and trust the casual tone in his dad’s voice, but a slight tremor remains when he speaks. “And you know that we- that we are…”

“Lovers? I do, child.” He pats Jisung’s reddening cheek and wipes a little scared tear away with his thumb. “It was no one in town who told me that, though, I’ve known it for a while.”

“You did?” He watches his father nod with a smile. “Since when?”

“Hm, I might not be a scholar, but I’m good enough of a reader to understand when I get my hands on a lover’s desperate confession letter, you know?”

Jisung gasps. “You knew about the letter? Why didn’t you say anything?”

His father throws his head back with his usual loud laugh. “I was going to. I went all the way to your house to make fun of you for it, but then I found you in such a state and understood that something had already happened and you were not coping well, so I just lied.”

“What, why? Why did you lie?”

“Jisung, you were spiraling as it was, if you learned that I knew about it you would walk into the sea. I know you too well to risk it.”

Jisung sputters a laugh, even through the tears that run consistently down his face. “And you’re alright with this… behaviour?”

“What behaviour, you lying with a man?”

Jisung nods, too incredulous to be shy.

“What about it?” He throws his hand in the air like he does when arguing with someone at the bar. “Whatever makes you happy, I’m good with. Maybe you can finally put those nightgowns you kept to good use.”

Jisung’s gasp is even louder than the one before. “You knew about that too?!”

The day of the wedding has Jisung in a daze. The bustling of servants readying the last details, the many family members populating the sitting rooms and the garden, the tight schedule and the getting dressed, it all makes his head spin.

His friends help—Yongbok and Hyunjin are finally there with him, Seungmin has not left his side since he first arrived. They get ready together, drinking and keeping the spirits high so that Jisung doesn’t descend into madness without Minho there to hold his hand.

“Don’t you dare cry again. If we have to call that woman to touch up your makeup one more time, I will die.” Seungmin tells Yongbok, who has his head tilted up to avoid the tears that were about to come down for the fifth time that evening.

“It’s not my fault! Look how pretty he looks.” Yongbok points at Jisung, using him as an indisputable defense.

Jisung wears his wedding suit, his hair artfully curled around the temples and ears, the makeup enhancing his already delicate features. Over his collarbones lies the most famous of all the Lee jewels, the necklace that the late Lady of Levanter, Minho’s mother, used only a handful of times in her life, with its pink and green gemstones that gleam gently on the eye.

He feels close to crying when the other three kiss him good luck and leave to join the rest of the guests in the ballroom.

It’s not that he isn’t happy, far from it. He has never felt such intense joy in his life and his body responds to it the same it does to other strong emotions. He shakes, hyperventilates, sweats with the urge to run around in circles until all energy is dispersed.

Then he sees Minho approaching. He wears a fully white suit, much like Jisung’s one, with the same intricate details that make it so mesmerizing, but his does not emulate the train of a dress and it is fashioned instead with a sort of mantle that drapes from the shoulder pads and ends before it hits the floor. And for only the second time in his life, he wears his crown.

Once again, Jisung’s chest fills with air that is suddenly way too heavy for breathing and his blood runs hotter with something he has long ago learned to be pure desire. He watches awe fill Minho’s eyes, the same mix of fondness and want of every time he sees Jisung ready for him.

Alone in that hallway, they’re drawn so heavily to each other that when their mouths clash it is nothing more than pure reflex. It’s where they belong.

Jisung burns when Minho’s hands circle his waist and their tongues slide together. He moans from Minho’s touch, his taste. Minho is all he wants, now and forever. 

“Are you scared?” Minho asks him, their foreheads touching as they ground each other.

“Very. But if you don’t let go of me, I can get through it.”

Minho smiles wide, laces their fingers and looks right into his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jisung does cry when Chan gives a speech about love, when he talks about the happiness that has taken over Minho’s heart since Jisung appeared in his life. Minho cries too, his hand clasped tight around Jisung’s and his breath shaky when he kisses his now husband’s forehead before placing the crown upon his head.

Not once throughout the night does Minho let go of his hand. They walk together through the ballroom, greeting family and friends, hearing praises and good wishes from royals and commoners alike. They dance and they sit together, in the company of the King and Queen, to eat and enjoy the evening dedicated to them.

Once people start to leave and the room becomes a lot less busy, Jisung spots Younghyun looking at him from afar. He escapes Minho for the first and only time then, quickly closing the distance to his brother.

“Brother,” Jisung says simply, accepting the hug that’s offered to him silently, “I’ve missed you.”

“Your Highness has been busy, did not find the time to come see his brother once since he docked on shore.” 

“Don’t you dare. If you ever call me that again, I’ll find a way to execute you by law.”

Younghyun laughs, sounding a lot like his father when he does so. “You look beautiful, the crown suits you.”

“Thank you.” Jisung pauses, takes a deep breath. “What do you think of all this? Minho and I, I mean. You can be honest with me.”

His brother sneers with a little click of his tongue, folding his arms across his chest, and Jisung prepares for the worst.

“I think we should have taken you onboard with us after mom died. Having you living on your own in town, learning the things you learned, was not good for you.”

Jisung hums, not so much in agreement, but to signal that he is listening. He said his brother could be honest, so he will listen even if his heart is already breaking.

“Had we taken you to a few of our trips,” Younghyun continues, “you would’ve sat at a bar halfway across the world and watched a bunch of sailors melt into other sailors in a dark corner and sing about their undying love at a tavern. Maybe that way it wouldn’t have taken you a lifetime to finally kiss another man, you know?”

The laugh that leaves Jisung’s lips then is so loud that it surprises even himself. He spins around to see Minho’s and Chan’s heads turn to him and apologizes as they laugh. He gawks at Younghyun. “What was that for, you asshole? I was about to cry.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to use that type of word, Your Highness.”

Jisung shoves his brother’s shoulder playfully. “You knew what I was before I did, huh? It’s a running theme.”

Younghyun smiles and it feels to Jisung like looking at a mirror. “It’s not so much that we knew, we just had a lot more experience to make an educated guess. All you had was a dozen or so years under the wing of a bunch of fancy priests. It makes sense that it took a dazzling prince to wake you up.”

“Dazzling prince?” Jisung purses his lips to hold in a laugh.

“Dazzling lord of the province doesn’t have the appeal I’m going for.”

They fall into laughter together one more time, then Younghyun pats him over the head.

“You’re gonna be wonderful to your husband, to the province, to the people in town. Everyone knows that, everyone that matters anyways. Just enjoy yourself and we are all going to be happy for you, I promise.”

As the night comes to an end, Minho takes him for a walk in the garden. It’s all quiet now, all guests either gone or retired to their bedrooms, all staff busy with dismantling the set up of the party.

“We don’t have to abandon your townhouse, of course.” Minho tells him. “You can spend as much time there as you wish, just know that I will follow you because, as a married man, I refuse to sleep alone.”

Jisung giggles. “Will you not want to be at your own house when staying in town?”

“Hm, I don’t think so. That house is sterile, I never liked it. Your house makes me feel like you’re constantly giving me a hug when I’m there. Everything in there is you.” Minho tilts his head and the look on his face is nothing short of enamoured. “Can’t wait to start feeling like that here as well.”

“But everything in the palace is so beautiful, I don’t know if I could interfere.”

“Nothing in here is as beautiful as you.”

Jisung stops to bring Minho into a quick kiss. “There’s no need to continue to woo me, we are already married.”

“I only speak the truth. If it sounds like flattery it is because you don’t know your worth and so I must keep saying it.” He keeps Jisung close, his arm hooked low on his back, where it naturally falls every time they’re near. “I keep thinking about the night we met. Yongbok and Changbin had painted a picture of you in my mind for years, but you were so much more than anything they could describe. I remember the way you effortlessly out-shined every lady in the room, with how elegant and dainty you looked in your clothes, with the confidence you transpired in that blinding smile of yours.”

Jisung marvels at the revelation that Minho had been interested in him for so long, it never occurred to him that the lord of his province could have been looking at him amongst everyone else there that night—not before he embarrassed himself in front of him, not for a reason such as his beauty.

“Then when you approached and I got to see you getting shy, blushing in front of me like an innocent girl, I could've fallen for you right then and there—I might have.” He continues. “By the time I got to talk to you up close, I was blown away by how quick-witted and yet sweet you were, how you would find it in yourself to work past your shyness if it meant you could make your friends laugh just one more time, by how smart and yet utterly clueless you were.”

“Clueless?”

“Yes.” Minho chuckles softly, not making fun of Jisung, only enjoying the memories colouring his mind. “I could tell you had no idea of the way you were looking at me, of the message your eyes conveyed against your will. I could tell you didn't know much about yourself and that understanding drove me to insanity. The more we saw of each other, the clearer it became to me.”

"What if I’m no longer shy or clueless, what if you get bored of me?”

“Baby,” he touches his nose to Jisung’s cheek, breathing in the scent Jisung never stopped wearing since he first complimented it, “discovering you, seducing you, watching you fall into my net was the most exhilarating chapter of my life. Introducing you to the desperation of my desire was the most sensual and unforgettable experience I will ever have. There’s no art, no music, no pleasure or knowledge that can compare to what it felt like to meet you, because for me there was a world before you and one after.”

Minho looks right into his eyes before continuing. “But I need you to understand that, while all those moments will certainly dance behind my eyelids on the day I'm laid to rest for the last time, there is nothing that I want more than to indulge in the spectacle that is you in my future. To watch you grow into the man you will become by my side, free to love and free to live and not act. That for me is more than a want, it is a necessity. It is what I crave more than air to breathe. I want you, Jisung, I need you. I always will.”

In many important moments of his life Jisung regretted the way his emotions boil to the surface, how quick he is to tears, how weak he is in the face of anxiety and overwhelm, but not then. Not in Minho’s arms, with his words showering him with warmth and love and hope. When tears well up and stream down his face, he knows Minho doesn’t judge, that he understands.

Minho kisses his wet lips and he smiles past the tears.

“I have never stood a chance, have I?” Jisung leans in even closer, all of the weight of his feelings draped across Minho’s neck like his arms. “From the first time our eyes met, I was yours.”

He kisses Minho’s smile and lets his legs be picked up and hooked around his husband. And he smiles too, all the way to their bedroom, all the while being undressed and worshipped on their bed, through their passion and into the moment when his eyes can no longer stay open—into the end of the night, which he will forever remember as the glorious beginning of the rest of his life.

-

15 years later

Miroh’s Capital, Royal Palace

Jeongin’s 10th birthday

“Please, dad! Just this once. I promise I’ll double my efforts when we are back. Please, please, please.” Jeongin argues for himself in the case of not attending his lessons for the duration of their trip to the capital.

“Innie, you will have more than enough time to play with Lily in the next few months. You can’t simply pause your education because you want to play all day long. Lily has lessons too.” Jisung explains to his son for the hundredth time.

“Then not for the whole trip, but just let me postpone it until after my birthday.”

“Postpone it?” 

Jeongin nods. “Temporarily.”

Jisung has to bite back a laugh.

“Think about it, dad. Am I not to get acquainted with the palace and the city and everything else?” The boy puts his best effort into sounding like the adults he observes. “How am I to do that when the lessons take hours of my day?”

“Oh God, who taught you to be this dramatic? I shouldn’t let you correspond with Hyunjin that much.”

Jeongin throws himself face first on the seat beside Jisung. “Please, dad. I’m begging you. Just today, then. Please.” Comes the muffled plea.

Jisung runs a hand gently over his child’s hair. “Baby, are the lessons that unbearable, are there any problems with your tutors? Explain it to me.”

He shifts to lie on his father’s lap. “No, dad… They’re fine. I’m sorry. I just wanted to have fun for a little bit…”

“It’s only for a few hours, then you’ll have the rest of the day to have fun.” He drags his thumb over the little pout that has formed on Jeongin’s face.

“Lessons are a few hours, then sleep is a few hours, and feeding and bathing and changing and praying is a few hours.”

Jisung can’t keep a serious face, he recognizes too much of himself in the way this boy is always ready to negotiate.

“I’ll talk to your father. Maybe we can reduce your hours for a few weeks.”

“Really?”

Jisung nods. “But you will still have lessons. I said reduce, alright?”

“Thank you. Thank you, dad. I love you so much.”

Footsteps draw their eyes to the door of the sitting room they’re in. It is Minho arriving back from his morning engagements, accompanied by Chan.

“Iena, was that you giving your dad a headache that I just heard all the way across the hallway?” Minho asks, narrowing his eyes at the child.

Jeongin gasps and gets up from the couch, his eyes huge. “Hi, dad. Hi, uncle Chan.”

“Hm?” Minho presses.

“I wasn’t giving him a headache, I was just- I wanted to- It’s just that-” He sighs and his shoulders sag. “Nevermind.”

Jisung knows it’s not only Minho’s authority that makes their son change so rapidly, he is also eager to impress the King, the uncle he looks up to and whose disapproval hurts more on the child than an actual injury. Chan seems to know it too, he lowers himself to Jeongin’s height to talk to him.

“You and my daughter will have endless time together, I promise you. You can sleep over in her room if you want, so you can play until your limbs give out, what do you think?”

Jeongin’s face lights up at that and he nods earnestly, making the adults smile.

“But you both need to take your lessons seriously.” Chan continues. “She’s the capital’s princess and you are the future king. The nation needs you two to be intelligent and well versed in our history when you are out there representing us.”

“I’ll be just like you, uncle. Grandpa and dad Jisung always say they will make sure of it.”

Jisung takes advantage of being behind the child to laugh, watching Minho and Chan fight to keep their composure.

“I know you will, my dear. Now, Lily was just done with her tutor, so she should be getting ready for lunch with aunt Jamie, if you want to join them.”

“I will.” He answers, already going past his uncle to run out of the room.

“Nuh-uh, calm down.” Minho grabs him by the shoulder. “Come sign your mother’s letter and then you’re free to go.”

Jeongin accepts the pen his dad hands him and signs the bottom of the piece of paper that comes with it. “Look, dad. Is it good?”

“Oh Iena, your signature has gotten so pretty! It looks like an adult signed it.”

His pretty eyes light up with pride. “Really?”

Minho nods. “I’m really happy with your progress.”

“Thank you, dad.” He pretends to fight the kiss Minho leaves on his forehead. “May I go?”

“Yes, son. Go and have fun.”

With that, Jeongin speeds away, disappearing in the hallway not long after.

He was born to Minho’s cousin, from a night spent with a fellow scholar during a trip to catalog the animals past the ice rings of the northern sea. He was named after his birth father, who had already passed away when their boat made it back to the shores of Miroh, almost a year after Jeongin was conceived.

His mother wrote to Minho upon arrival, explaining the situation herself. She did not wish to live as mother or to abandon the research the late professor had been conducting and she knew Minho and his husband wanted to start a family.

Less than a month later, Jeongin was in Jisung’s arms, tiny and round and healthy. Ready to be raised by two loving and grateful fathers and to one day become Miroh’s monarch.

She was gone soon after, with better provisions and a stack of prophylactics that would make the women in her crew safe and free. Whenever they reach a port, she writes to Jeongin, and he looks forward to her letters because they are filled with adventures and knowledge he wouldn’t discover otherwise.

Now he is a week away from turning ten years old and they travelled to the capital for such a celebration. It will be the first public appearance of the future king and the entirety of the three royal families are invited, as well as important figures from other nations. 

They haven’t told Jeongin just yet, but their family will be moving permanently to the capital sometime in the near future. Minho’s sister is back to Levanter and it’s about time for their son to join one of the other royals in their companion system.

They are excited. Minho with returning to the city where he was raised and having Chan with him again, Jisung with joining Seungmin and experiencing life in the capital—the clubs, the art, the music, the people. It will be another huge step for them as a family, one that Jisung cannot wait to finally take.

Jisung has been Minho’s husband for over fifteen years now and he likes to think he knows the man like the back of his hand, so when Chan leaves and he hears the door of the sitting room being locked, his breathing goes heavy.

He stands in front of a long console table, facing the large mirror that’s framed just above it. He fidgets with the decoration, pretending not to notice the way Minho stalks behind him.

Jisung is wearing informal clothes, something light and pretty to match the unusual hot weather they’ve been getting. Something easy to get rid of, he made sure.

Minho’s hands are warm where they circle Jisung’s waist over the thin fabric and so is his breath when he speaks against his ear. “I watched you giving your speech this morning. Do you know you command a stage like no one else? Levanter really has the brightest Jewel of the kingdom.”

Jisung buries his fingers on Minho’s hair, watching in the mirror as he goes down the length of his exposed neck, sucking and biting bruises on his skin. “So romantic, Your Highness.”

“It’s only the truth, my love.” Minho says his usual line right against his shoulder, his fingers working on undoing the buttons on the front of Jisung’s pants. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Couldn’t take my mind off you after. This whole morning, every man I spoke to, every document I signed, they were all obstacles to get to you.”

Jisung watches in delight as Minho lowers his pants and how his face changes when he sees the oiled up skin that’s underneath it. The way desire burns through him, reflected in his expressive eyes and in the intense flush of his ears. The way he pries Jisung’s buttcheeks open and groans at the view of his body being more than ready to take him.

“When did you even have the time?”

Jisung laughs softly, leaning forward on the table before him until his cheek is pressed against the surface and his butt is up as he lies with legs open, just waiting for his husband.

“I saw you watching me and knew I had to make time for it. Do you know you have the most intense eyes in this entire kingdom?”

When Yongbok emerges from the boat that brings him back to Miroh after a journey through the western nations with his lovers, Jisung and Seungmin almost do not recognize him.

Not only do his clothes reflect the preferences of a different people, but his hair is also changed, now long enough to pass his shoulders and golden. Golden like Jisung has only seen on the heads of foreigners who come to Miroh to do business with his father.

His skin is darker and his face carries numerous freckles that complement the eye makeup he’s wearing. He is gorgeous, even more so when he spots the two men waiting for them and opens a smile.

Jisung receives him in his arms and starts crying immediately, weak as he is. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Yongbok says, choked up with his own tears. “And you too, Minnie.  I missed you two a lot.” He traps Seungmin in his embrace as well.

Hyunjin and Changbin join them. They come in the same western clothes, with healthy, tanned skin and adorned by the same jewelry and makeup as Yongbok. What a picture they make, the three of them.

“Where’s Jeongin? I wanna see my nephew.” Changbin asks as they start moving towards the carriages.

“He doesn’t know you are arriving today. We couldn’t tell him, he would get too excited and not want to do anything else other than wait for his uncles.”

“I can’t wait to see how much he’s grown. I made a painting for him. I’m hoping he will like it, you know how kids change fast.” Hyunjin says.

Seungmin laughs then. “With how much he loves you? My dear, he is going to lose his mind.”

It’s the day of Jeongin’s tenth birthday and he stands in front of the throne with King Chan beside him, a hand on his shoulder as he declares him his heir officially for the first time.

Jisung stands nearby, failing to contain his emotions as proud tears run down his cheeks. Beside him is Minho, with a firm expression tinted by the wet eyes he is trying to hide. Changbin stands across from him, beside his sister, in favour of whom he abdicated years ago, crying and red in the face from being just as affectionate as Jisung himself.

When Chan is done speaking, the other Lords and Lady join him and Jeongin to say their own vows and kiss the head of the child that will reign over Miroh someday. Jeongin is given a necklace that represents the three provinces, that he is to wear at all times now as the crown prince.

He bows to them and they bow back to him. The crowd cheers.

Minho whispers something that stays between him and his child, then kisses Jeongin’s cheek. They smile. Jisung could die a happy man just from having seen these smiles once.

Jeongin runs to him then, throws his hands around his neck and almost takes them down with the strength of his hug.

“I’ll be a great king, dad, I promise!”

The end.