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Jeonghan was never just a boy. He was the heir. The one who had been born to carry a crown too heavy for most men, let alone a child. Everyone reminded him of that every day. His father, the emperor, reminded him the most of all.

The old emperor was not cruel without reason. He was a man who had lived his whole life in chains, even though they were made of gold. He hated the throne that tied him down. He hated the endless decisions, the whispers of betrayal, the weight of lives depending on him. He once told Jeonghan, “A king is never free, my son. Remember that.”

So he tried to shape Jeonghan into someone different. Someone better. Someone who would not be broken by the crown like he had been. And his way of shaping was not soft. He never held Jeonghan’s hand. He never sat beside him with warmth. Instead, he threw him into the world.

From rich to poor. From honored to ignored. From the privileged to the ones who had nothing. Jeonghan lived in their homes, ate their food, shared their hardships. His father wanted him to see everything, to feel everything, to taste every corner of life.

Some lessons were harsh. He had lived with a family of farmers once, and their days began before the sun even touched the fields. His hands bled from pulling weeds. His back ached from carrying water. He had seen children his own age fall asleep on the ground, too tired to even cry.

Other lessons were strange. He had sat among nobles who dressed in silk and dripped with jewels. They taught him how to smile without meaning it. How to speak without saying anything at all. How to laugh politely at jokes that were not funny.

But none of those lessons stayed in his chest the way the lessons of the dancers did.

Dancer, to be specific.

That time, his father had sent him to live with a troupe of performers. They were not just dancers of music and grace. They offered everything. A song for your ears. A show for your eyes. And most times, if asked and paid, even their bodies.

At first, Jeonghan had not understood. He was ten. He thought they were simply people who loved to move with the rhythm of flutes and drums. He thought their laughter was real, that their painted smiles were natural. But even at that age, he could see through some of it. Some of the dancers were tired. Some were sad. Some smiled only when the lights touched their faces.

And yet, there was one among them who seemed untouched by all that.

Hong Jisoo.

He was different. Graceful. Calm. Beautiful. Beautiful in a way that made even the other dancers watch him with awe. He was the one they leaned on, the one they followed, the one they whispered to when the nights were long and the coins were few.

Jisoo was twenty-three then, but to Jeonghan, he felt eternal. His steps were light as feathers. His voice was gentle as water. His face… Jeonghan could not stop staring. Pretty. Soft. Untouchable.

Jisoo became more than just another lesson. He became Jeonghan’s secret teacher and first love. Not of the things his father ordered, but of the things Jeonghan never knew he needed.

He taught him how to breathe when anger rose in his chest. How to keep calm when others tried to pull him apart. “People are not worth your ruined mood, Hannie,” he had said once, smiling as he tapped Jeonghan’s forehead. “Save your heart. Keep it strong.”

He taught him how to be like stone. Strong. Silent. Untouched by storms.

But he also taught softness. He put a flute in Jeonghan’s small hands and showed him how to press the holes, how to breathe steady, how to make music instead of noise. “Gentle,” Jisoo would whisper. “Not too much, not too little. Care for the sound. Care for softness.”

Jeonghan had never known softness before Jisoo. His father gave him none. His mother was kept far away, a shadow he was not allowed to touch. The palace was cold marble and steel voices. No warmth. No kindness. No gentle hands.

Until Jisoo.

Jisoo laughed in a way that filled empty rooms. He smiled even when he was tired. He spoke to Jeonghan not as a prince, not as an heir, but as a boy. A boy who wanted to be held. A boy who wanted to be seen.

Jeonghan was mesmerized. Completely.

The days with Jisoo felt like stolen treasures. Every morning, Jeonghan would wait to hear his voice. Every night, he would fall asleep replaying the way Jisoo had smiled at him, the way his fingers had guided his on the flute.

But time was cruel. Time always was.

One morning, Jeonghan woke to the sound of horses outside. A chariot had come. His father had sent for him. The lesson with the dancers was over.

Panic hit him all at once. His chest hurt. His eyes burned. He ran, searching, until he found Jisoo. The boy threw himself into the omega’s arms, clinging tightly to his robe. His small hands fisted the fabric as if holding harder could stop the inevitable.

“Hyung,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Will you marry me now? Nobody can take me away if you marry me.”

His words trembled. His body shook. He meant every syllable.

Jisoo chuckled, though his eyes softened with sadness. He stroked Jeonghan’s hair slowly, tenderly. “Oh, poor little thing. You can marry me when you grow handsome, and when you think I am still pretty enough for you.”

Jeonghan’s lips trembled. “Am I not handsome now?” His voice cracked with desperation. His eyes were watery, shining with unshed tears.

Jisoo’s heart ached, but he smiled anyway, cooing softly. “You are cute now, Hannie. Very cute. Hyung will marry you if you grow strong, handsome, good, and obedient. Do you promise me that?”

The boy nodded fiercely, as if the promise could lock their futures together. “But hyung… you’re always pretty to me.”

Jisoo let out another laugh, soft and warm. Pretty laugh. Gentle laugh. He shook his head, brushing Jeonghan’s cheek with his fingers. “You might not think that when you are a man. I will be older then. Wrinkled. Worn out, like the omegas you see on the street.”

“I don’t care,” Jeonghan said quickly, his voice small but sharp with sincerity. “You’ll always be pretty to me. And you won’t be that old. Don’t say that. Your beauty is permanent…Like my feelings for you.”

The dancer froze for a moment, then laughed again, covering his mouth with his hand. His cheeks pinked faintly, a rare fluster breaking through his elegance. “Oh? Big man, big words. I didn’t know you were hiding such a silver tongue, Hannie.”

The moment could have stretched forever, but the world did not allow it.

The horses outside neighed loudly. The chariot had arrived fully. The knights were calling.

Jeonghan tightened his grip, desperate. “Will I ever meet you again?” His voice cracked on the last word.

Jisoo’s smile was soft, sad. He hid the sorrow well, but Jeonghan felt it in the tremble of his arms. “I will always think of you, Majesty Yoon,” he whispered. The title rolled from his lips like a secret blessing. Jeonghan was not king yet, but hearing it from Jisoo’s mouth made his heart swell.

Then, Jisoo pressed something into Jeonghan’s hands. A flute. Smooth wood, polished and light. The very one Jisoo had played in the quiet nights.

“Keep my gift safe, Hannie,” Jisoo said. He bent down and kissed Jeonghan’s cheek softly, a touch so light it burned forever into the boy’s memory. “Now go. Your knights are leaving.”

The boy’s small body trembled as he walked toward the chariot. His eyes blurred. His chest ached. He looked back one last time, clutching the flute tightly against his chest.

A single tear slid down his cheek.

That was the last time he saw the ethereal omega.

—

Today was Jeonghan’s birthday. Not just any birthday. It was the day he stepped into his eighteenth year, the age where he would no longer be called just the crown prince but the emperor-to-be. His sweet twenty, as the court whispered, a step into manhood.

And like every step his father had planned for him, this one came with an offer.

For his birthday, the emperor gifted him something unusual. Not jewels, not weapons, not rare horses. This time, it was a choice. The choice of his first concubine. His father said it was time he began building his household, time to prove that he understood what it meant to rule, to carry bloodlines, to choose wisely. The emperor promised him every resource. Every connection. He told Jeonghan he could choose any noble daughter's and son's, any young omega from the great clans of the kingdom. Someone healthy. Someone useful. Someone to give him heirs and status.

But Jeonghan did not smile.

He knew right away what he wanted. Who he wanted.

So when the court gathered, expecting him to pick among the polished noble girls, their mouths fell open. Instead of searching in the high halls of clans, Jeonghan announced that he would travel with his troop and search among the dancer troupes of the kingdom.

Gasps had filled the air. Some courtiers looked horrified. Some whispered behind their sleeves. A few even laughed in disbelief.

The emperor himself looked ashamed. Dancers were considered used, tainted, far below what the heir to the throne should claim. But this was the gift he had given Jeonghan, and he had sworn not to interfere. So, though his face burned with disappointment, he held his tongue.

Jeonghan did not care.

He knew exactly where he needed to go. He knew who he needed to find.

The search stretched for days. They moved from town to town, clan to clan, visiting troupes who painted their faces and bent their bodies in shimmering halls. Jeonghan was calm on the outside, but inside he was restless.

One morning, he lay back on a boat as it cut through the waters of their kingdom. The sun was high, painting the ripples with gold. One of his commanders guided the boat, while Jeonghan held the wooden flute in his hands.

He lifted it to his lips and began to play.

The tune was old. A melody from his childhood. The same one that had been taught to him by the only person who had ever softened his heart. He played it carefully, the notes trembling in the air like memories. Soft. Clear. Fragile. He had never forgotten it, not in ten long years.

That song was a call.

A call back to the first love he had ever known.

When the boat finally reached another clan’s land, news spread quickly, that the crown prince was visiting. The dancers hurried, preparing themselves. And at last, Jeonghan arrived at the manor of the very troupe he had been searching for.

He felt his pulse quicken. His palms dampened.

Lined up before him were rows of young omegas. Pretty. Soft. Polished and pure. Faces painted with sweetness, bodies dressed in silk. They smiled brightly, but Jeonghan could see past it. The smiles were masks, empty and tired.

The elder of the troupe bowed low and began explaining each omega’s qualities. Their youth. Their grace. Their ability to sing, to dance, to charm. Words filled the air, but Jeonghan barely listened.

He shook his head gently. “Madam, I’m not—”

But then he stopped. His ears caught something else.

A sound. A sound he knew as well as his own heartbeat.

The soft, calming voice of a flute, floating from somewhere deeper in the manor. The same melody. The same grace.

His chest tightened. His lips parted.

The elder gasped and bowed again, embarrassed. “Forgive the disturbance, Your Majesty. That is the master of grace of our chamber. We did not wish to bother him with news of your arrival. I will order him to stop at once—”

“No.” Jeonghan’s voice cut through, sharp but trembling with feeling. “Do not stop him. Call him here.”

Everyone froze.

The elder blinked, clearly flustered. “Your Majesty, surely not. That omega is much older than you. He holds a high rank in this troupe. He is not a match for your taste.”

Jeonghan tilted his head and smiled calmly, though his eyes gleamed with fire. “And how do you know my taste, Madam? Please call him here.”

The elder hesitated, lips pressed tight, but at last she bowed and hurried away.

Jeonghan tapped his foot against the floor, something no one ever saw him do. Impatience. Nervousness. He who was always calm as stone now felt like a boy again.

And then—footsteps.

Soft. Slow. Nearer.

Jeonghan lifted his head sharply, and his breath caught in his throat.

There he was.

Hong Jisoo.

The same man from his childhood. The same man who had held his heart without even knowing it. But older now. Maturer. Changed, yet still so achingly the same.

He was ethereal. Beautiful. Untouchable. His hair was longer than before, tied neatly with a crystal pin, with two strands falling like gentle frames around his face. His lips looked faintly tinted, though Jeonghan guessed they were naturally so. His cheeks were sharper now, his features more defined, yet his eyes still held that softness, that ocean-deep calm.

Elegant. Graceful. Perfect.

Jeonghan’s heart pounded. He felt himself falling in love all over again.

Before anyone could speak, Jeonghan stepped forward and did something that silenced the room completely.

He bowed.

The crown prince, heir to the throne, bowed first to a dancer.

“Long time no see, Master Hong,” Jeonghan said softly.

Jisoo’s eyes flickered with surprise, and for a moment there was concern in them. His voice was low, careful. “Please revert to calling me hyung, or simply Jisoo, Your Majesty.”

Jeonghan straightened, smiling faintly. “I’ll stick with hyung. I still have more lines to cross before I can call you anything else.”

A ripple of whispers spread among the onlookers. No one dared interrupt, but their shock was clear.

Jisoo glanced at the rows of omegas still standing awkwardly in front. “Did Your Majesty not find any of my fellow omega's to your liking? Or was there some trouble that you called me here?”

Jeonghan’s eyes softened. “Please do revert to calling me Hannie, as you always did. And you already know why I am here, hyung.”

Jisoo smiled faintly, but it was not without worry. “I do know. But I must remind you of something. I once taught you to take better decisions.”

“You are my better decision, hyung,” Jeonghan replied immediately, stepping closer. His voice was quiet, but firm. “The best one I will ever make, if you just let me.”

The hall fell silent. Gasps rippled quietly among the dancers. The idea of a crown prince choosing someone nearly a decade older, someone who had already lived a life of performance, lust and survival, was unthinkable. But Jeonghan’s words left no space for doubt.

Jisoo’s expression shifted, calm but guarded. At last, he inclined his head slightly. “Would you mind, if I speak to Your Majesty alone?”

“Anything you want,” Jeonghan said instantly. He followed as Jisoo turned and led him deeper into the manor.

And with each step, Jeonghan’s heart raced faster.

The air inside the manor was quieter, softer than the front hall where all the other dancers had stood lined up like painted dolls. The sound of the flute still lingered faintly, fading into silence as Jisoo closed the doors behind them.

Jeonghan followed, his heart thudding in his chest. He had imagined this moment for years, dreamed of it, prayed for it in silence. And now, here he was, standing once again in front of the man who had taught him softness, the man who had kissed his cheek when he was still a child.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. Jisoo finally broke it with a quiet sigh.

“You should not have come for me,” he said, his voice gentle. “You are the crown prince. Soon, you will be emperor. The eyes of the entire kingdom are on you, Hannie.”

The name made Jeonghan’s chest ache. Hannie. His name, softened by Jisoo’s voice. He had longed to hear it again.

He smiled faintly. “And yet, here I am. In front of you. After all this time.”

Jisoo looked at him, really looked, as though trying to see past the man standing there to find the boy he once knew. “You have grown,” he murmured. “Taller, Stronger…Handsome.” His lips curved in the smallest smile. “You kept your promise.”

Jeonghan’s breath caught. “And you,” he whispered, stepping closer, “are still the prettiest person I have ever seen.”

Jisoo shook his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “Flattery does not suit you.”

“It is not flattery,” Jeonghan insisted. “It is truth. You told me once I might not think the same when I became a man. That you would grow old, that your beauty would fade. But look at you, hyung. You are even more beautiful now.”

The words spilled out, honest and raw. Jeonghan did not care who heard, who judged. His heart had been locked away for years, waiting only for this man.

Jisoo’s smile faltered. He turned slightly, as if to hide his face. “You are too kind. But kindness can be dangerous. You must think carefully, Hannie. Choosing me would not bring you strength in court. It would not win you allies. It would only bring whispers, laughter, and shame.”

Jeonghan stepped closer again, closing the distance until he could almost feel the warmth of Jisoo’s body. His voice dropped low, steady. “Do you think I care about whispers? About shame? I have lived my whole life being told what I should do, who I should be. But this choice is mine. My father gave it to me, and I will not waste it on someone I do not love.”

Jisoo’s breath hitched at the word. Love. It hung in the air between them, heavy, undeniable.

“Jeonghan,” he said softly, almost pleading. “You are not a boy anymore. You cannot cling to memories of a childhood crush. Life is not that simple.”

“I am not clinging to a memory,” Jeonghan answered firmly. His hand lifted before he could stop himself, hovering near Jisoo’s cheek, though he did not touch. “I have thought of you every day. I carried the flute you gave me everywhere I went. I played it when I missed you so much I could not breathe. I searched the kingdom for you when I was finally given the chance. Does that sound like a memory to you?”

Jisoo’s eyes softened, but they were still filled with hesitation. He turned his head slightly, letting out a long breath.

“You do not understand what it would mean to take me as your concubine,” he said. “I am not young anymore. I am not untouched. The court will never accept me. They will use me against you.”

“Let them,” Jeonghan replied instantly. His voice was fierce, but his eyes were warm. “Let them talk, let them sneer. None of it matters. What matters is you. Only you. And if I'm having you by my side, it's never as a mere concubine, but my equal half. I will never give you the title of concubine”

Jisoo closed his eyes for a moment, as if steadying himself. When he opened them again, his gaze met Jeonghan’s, filled with something unreadable. Pain. Longing. Fear. Hope. All tangled together.

“You are stubborn,” he whispered.

“You taught me to be,” Jeonghan said with a small smile.

That made Jisoo laugh, quiet and reluctant, but real. The sound eased something in Jeonghan’s chest, like a knot loosening.

Silence fell again, softer this time, not heavy but delicate. Jisoo looked at him, searching, as if trying to decide whether to give in or keep the distance.

Finally, he spoke. “What if I say no, Hannie?”

Jeonghan’s throat tightened. He swallowed, then shook his head. “Then I will wait. I will wait as long as it takes. A year, ten years, my whole life. Because no one else will do. No one else will ever be enough.”

The room grew very still. Jisoo’s lips parted slightly, his breath caught in his throat. He had expected determination, but not this. Not this endless patience, this unwavering devotion.

“Foolish boy,” he whispered, but his voice trembled.

“Man,” Jeonghan corrected gently. “Not a boy. Your man. If you let me.”

Jisoo pressed a hand to his own chest, as if to steady the racing of his heart. He turned away, walking a few steps deeper into the room. His hair shifted with the movement, strands slipping free from the pin. Jeonghan wanted to reach out, to fix them, to touch.

Jisoo stopped by the window, looking out at the garden beyond. His voice was soft, almost to himself. “All these years, I thought you would forget me. That you would grow, and I would fade into a distant memory. I told myself it was better that way. Safer for you.”

“I could never forget you,” Jeonghan said, stepping up behind him. “You were the only warmth I ever had. The only one who taught me kindness, who showed me softness. My father taught me to be strong. You taught me to be human. How could I forget that?”

Jisoo’s shoulders trembled faintly. Slowly, he turned to face Jeonghan again. His eyes shone, not with tears, but with the weight of years of restraint breaking apart.

“You have grown into a dangerous man,” he said softly.

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Dangerous how?”

“Dangerous to my heart,” Jisoo replied, almost a whisper.

For a moment, Jeonghan forgot how to breathe. The words wrapped around him like a promise, fragile but real.

He stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of Jisoo’s breath. His voice was low, steady. “Then let me hold it. Let me protect it. For as long as I live.”

Jisoo’s hand lingered against his chest as though he were steadying not just his heartbeat but everything inside him. He looked at Jeonghan, and in his eyes was something conflicted.

“You speak so boldly,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “But to me… you are still that little boy who clung to my robe when the chariot came. The boy who asked me to marry him so he would not be taken away. I raised you only for a short time, but it was enough. Enough for me to still see him every time I look at you.”

Jeonghan’s breath shuddered. He stepped closer, closing the gap until Jisoo could feel the heat of his presence. His voice was steady, though his heart raced.

“I am still that boy,” he admitted. “And I always wish to be. Yours. But if it bothers you… if you cannot look at me without seeing the child I once was, then I will prove to you how much of a man I am. I will show you until there is no doubt left in your heart.”

Jisoo’s lips parted, but no words came. He searched Jeonghan’s face, finding no hesitation there, only certainty. That same certainty that had shaken him years ago when a ten-year-old had spoken like a grown man about love that would never fade.

“Today is my birthday,” Jeonghan continued, softer now. His fingers tightened around the flute he had carried all these years, the one Jisoo had given him. “Everyone knows it. The whole court waits to see who I will choose. The whole kingdom is whispering. But I only wanted one gift, hyung. To stand here in front of you again. To tell you that what I felt then, I still feel now.”

The room was silent but for the faint sound of Jeonghan’s breath. Jisoo’s hand trembled slightly at his side.

“You are still young, Hannie,” Jisoo whispered at last, though his voice was weaker now, less certain. “Too young to tie yourself to someone like me. You do not yet understand what it will cost you.”

Jeonghan shook his head. His eyes were fierce, unwavering. “I understand enough. I know what I want. I know who I want. And it is not anyone the court parades in front of me. It is not a girl from a noble clan. It is not a painted smile or a polished mask. It is you. Only you. Always you.”

The weight of his words pressed against Jisoo’s chest, breaking down the walls he had built for so many years. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He wanted to resist, but his heart betrayed him.

Jeonghan’s hand lifted again, this time brushing against Jisoo’s fingers, tentative but firm enough to make Jisoo gasp softly.

“Let me prove it to you, hyung,” Jeonghan murmured, eyes never leaving his. “Not just today, but every day that follows. I will show you that I am no longer just the boy who clung to you. I am the man who will not let you go.”

Jisoo’s lips trembled. He closed his eyes, his body swaying almost imperceptibly toward the warmth that radiated from Jeonghan. The pull was undeniable and dangerous.

“You’re still bold,” Jisoo said quietly, voice low but steady. “Even now… You expect me to just—” He faltered, and the pause said more than any words could. “…to be yours so easily.”

Jeonghan took a step closer, heat radiating off him, heart thundering. “I don’t expect anything easy, hyung. I want you. I have always wanted to be yours. But I know you are cautious. I know you will not just hand yourself to me or accept me just like that, and I will respect that.”

Jisoo’s eyes flicked down for a moment, then back at him. A corner of his lips lifted in the smallest, teasing curve. “I will only warm your bed if you prove your worth as an alpha,” he said softly, almost like a warning, but the edge of a smile betrayed him.

Jeonghan’s chest tightened with a rush of emotion, but he didn’t flinch. “I never wanted you to warm my bed, hyung,” he said gently, his voice low but firm. “I want you. I want to be in your life, in every way that matters. But if it is your challenge… then I will prove my worth. A hundred times over. A thousand times if I must. I will show you I am more than the boy who clung to you. I am the man you deserve.”

Jisoo’s hand twitched slightly, brushing faintly against Jeonghan’s wrist. His eyes softened, almost giving in, but his pride held him steady. “Then… go on, Majesty Yoon,” he said at last, voice low, carrying that subtle acceptance. “Take me away. Prove it. Show me what you have learnt to earn me with all these years.”

Jeonghan’s lips curved into a wide, unstoppable smile. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. “I will, hyung,” he said, stepping closer until he could hold Jisoo fully in his arms. “I will show you everything. I will make you mine, every day, for as long as I live.”

Jisoo’s fingers pressed briefly to Jeonghan’s chest, tentative, testing, but not resisting. The smallest nod, subtle and quiet, was all the permission Jeonghan needed. His happiness bloomed wildly, filling every corner of him, bright and uncontainable.

“Then don’t waste a second,” Jisoo murmured, letting the words hang like a dare, a tease, a promise all at once.

“I won’t,” Jeonghan said, voice low, full of fire and joy. “I’ve waited ten years for this, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

The room felt warmer now, closer, filled with the silent understanding between them. The pull that had been dangerous, hesitant, uncertain, was now theirs to explore. Jisoo’s subtle acceptance, the quiet challenge, and Jeonghan’s unwavering devotion created a rhythm of hope, trust, and longing that neither of them wanted to break.

—

The eyes of the court were heavy on them as Jeonghan walked in with Jisoo at his side. The whispering had already started, low and sharp like the hiss of snakes. Jisoo felt it, but he kept his face serene, steps measured. He had long ago learned how to carry himself with grace, even when the room pressed down on him.

A servant hurried forward again, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the ground. “Your Highness, forgive me, but this man must be prepared properly. He cannot walk here like this. He must bathe, be clothed in attire fit for concubines, and enter through the back. It is the way.”

Jisoo lowered his head slightly, his voice soft. “Prince Yoon, the law is clear. I cannot stay here, in your palace. I should be sent to the outer manor, where all others of my… status would remain. Please, do not trouble yourself for my sake.”

The words were humble, respectful, but Jeonghan’s jaw clenched. His hand twitched at his side, as though he wanted to grab Jisoo and keep him from bowing at all.

“You are not of that status,” Jeonghan said firmly. His voice rang across the hall, silencing the whispers for a moment. “You will not live in the outer manor. You will not bathe and dress for anyone’s pleasure. You are staying in my palace. In my chambers. By my side.”

The shock rippled across the room. The older ministers muttered among themselves, faces sour and pale. One of them, a sharp-eyed man with a crooked smile, chuckled under his breath before speaking loud enough for all to hear.

“Your Highness,” he said, eyes flicking toward Jisoo, “forgive me, but I believe this particular dancer has served in my halls before. His beauty is memorable, after all.” His tone was oily, smug, as though he were making a joke.

Jeonghan’s face darkened instantly. His lips parted, harsh words ready to strike, but before he could speak, Jisoo stepped forward gracefully.

“Ah,” Jisoo said with a soft smile, voice calm and even, “then it is good that my performance was unforgettable. But surely, Minister, it is the music you remember, and not the man. For if it is the man you recall, then perhaps your memory deceives you, as I have never served for less than royalty.”

The hall went still. A few muffled laughs slipped from younger guards at the boldness of the reply. The crooked smile fell from the minister’s lips, and he turned red with embarrassment.

Jeonghan’s anger softened at once, his chest swelling with pride. He had wanted to cut the man down with sharp words, but Jisoo had done it with elegance. His hyung’s wit struck sharper than any blade.

Before Jeonghan could speak again, the deep voice of the emperor filled the hall.

“Enough.”

The air grew heavy. All eyes turned as the emperor, seated high above them, fixed his gaze on his son. His expression was unreadable, but his words cut like steel.

“Jeonghan,” the emperor said, his tone low and disappointed, “I gave you a gift today. The chance to choose a partner who would strengthen you, strengthen the crown. A young omega of noble birth, someone who would be both your comfort and your ally. And instead…” His eyes flickered to Jisoo, lingering just long enough to make the silence sting. “You bring me this. A dancer. An elder omega who has already given his service elsewhere. You shame the court with this choice.”

Jisoo looked at the floor while whispers rose again, louder this time, but Jeonghan didn’t move. His jaw was set, his eyes steady.

“With respect, Father,” he said finally, voice clear and strong, “you offered me the freedom to choose. And I have chosen. Not a tool, not a painted doll, not a noble omega meant to please you more than me. I chose him. Hong Jisoo. The one who taught me lessons no tutor or noble could. The one who gave me kindness when you took it from me. I do not regret this choice, and I will not go back on it.”

The emperor’s frown deepened, but Jeonghan did not flinch. His hands tightened briefly at his sides, then relaxed as he turned, offering his arm to Jisoo.

“Hyung,” he said softly, ignoring the gasps and the whispers that chased his words. “Come with me..to our chambers.”

Jisoo hesitated only for a heartbeat. He looked once toward the emperor, then back at Jeonghan. The boy he had known was gone. In his place stood a man who looked at him with unwavering certainty. Slowly, gracefully, Jisoo rested his hand on Jeonghan’s arm.

The hall filled with murmurs as the crown prince, without asking permission, led Hong Jisoo out of the court. Past the guards, past the servants, past every watchful eye. His back was straight, his head held high, and at his side, Jisoo walked with quiet elegance.

It was a scandal. It was a disgrace. It was the boldest thing Jeonghan had ever done.

And yet, in that moment, Jeonghan had never felt prouder.

He had made his decision. And he would not turn back.

—

The room Jisoo entered was the kind he had seen before. Polished floors, silk cushions, delicate lanterns flickering with soft light. It was the room of a prince indeed. He had been in chambers like this before, long ago, when his life had been reduced to performance and service. He had learned how to walk through gilded doors, how to smile while pretending not to notice hungry stares. But this felt different. The idea of belonging here, of staying, made his chest tighten with uncertainty.

Jeonghan was already inside, moving with the confidence of someone who belonged here. He stood in front of the wide wardrobe, pulling its doors open with a little flourish. Inside was a neat row of robes, all of them new, rich with color and texture, soft silk and elegant embroidery. They looked similar to the flowing hanfu Jisoo wore now, but finer, almost too fine.

Jeonghan turned to him with a proud smile. His own robe was simpler, cut like those of soldiers, showing that even as a prince he was still being trained, still learning. But his eyes glittered as if he had just opened a treasure chest.

“Hyung, I brought all this for you,” Jeonghan said, his tone carrying that mix of boyish excitement and stubborn pride. “I’m going to make sure you never have to repeat a robe again. Not once.”

Jisoo blinked, stepping forward slowly. A soft smile curved his lips, and he reached out, placing his hand on Jeonghan’s head. His fingers brushed through the prince’s hair gently, ruffling it as if he were still the little boy he once cared for. Jeonghan leaned into the touch right away, his eyes closing, tilting his head like a pampered kitten who had found its sunbeam.

“Hannie…” Jisoo’s voice was fond, but laced with warning. His hand trailed down, and he pinched Jeonghan’s ear between his fingers, sharp enough to make a point.

Jeonghan winced, crouched down with a pout, his wide eyes glistening as he looked up at Jisoo like a child who had just been caught misbehaving.

“Hyung! That hurts,” he whined softly, lower lip sticking out.

“Good. Let it hurt a little,” Jisoo said, raising his brow like a teacher scolding a careless student. “Spending royal resources on things like this… do you hear yourself? You’re being reckless. If you continue to spoil me like this, Hannie, I will leave.”

Jeonghan crouched again with a little wince, but instead of letting go, he caught Jisoo’s hand, holding it against his cheek. His eyes looked up, full of defiance and quiet desperation. “If you leave, I’ll only follow you. No matter where you go.”

Jisoo exhaled slowly, shaking his head as if the weight of this boy-turned-man would undo him. He slipped his hand free and moved deeper into the room. His steps were unhurried, his gaze taking in every detail: the low table with untouched sweets, the folded blankets laid out at the side, the delicate lanterns casting a soft glow. Everything felt prepared, as if Jeonghan had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

“Everything here…” Jisoo began, his voice trailing as he glanced back at the prince. “It’s all for me, isn’t it?”

Jeonghan nodded without hesitation, standing straighter now. “Yes. All of it. Every piece.”

Jisoo’s eyes softened, though his tone stayed firm. “And what about you, Hannie? Where is your place in this? What have you kept for yourself?”

Jeonghan stepped closer, closing the distance until his voice was a whisper meant only for Jisoo. “You. That’s all I ever wanted. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

The answer made Jisoo’s heart catch, though he kept his face composed. His gaze lingered on Jeonghan, searching for some trace of hesitation, some immaturity he could scold away. But Jeonghan’s eyes were steady, bright with the kind of certainty that left no room for doubt.

Jisoo turned his head slightly, feigning exasperation, though the faintest smile tugged at his lips. He reached for one of the robes hanging neatly in the wardrobe, letting the silk slip between his fingers. “You really are impossible.”

“Then keep me close, hyung,” Jeonghan said softly, watching him with unguarded warmth. “If I am impossible, then let me be impossible here, by your side.”

Jisoo let the robe fall back into place and drew a quiet breath, his hand lingering on the polished wood of the wardrobe door. He did not answer right away. But he did not leave either.

And Jeonghan, seeing even that smallest sign of acceptance, felt his chest swell with a warmth that words could never hold.

—

For days, Jisoo tried to tell Jeonghan to stop serving him like a handmaiden. He was a prince, for heaven’s sake. But Jeonghan just grinned that infuriatingly charming grin, brushing it off every single time. “If it’s for you, hyung, I don’t mind,” he’d say, voice low and warm, eyes glinting with sincerity that left Jisoo at a loss for words.

Even the bed had been a struggle. Jeonghan had actually tried to sleep on the floor, insisting Jisoo should take the chamber bed. Jisoo, exasperated, had pulled him up, forcing him onto the mattress. He’d braced himself for the boy to curl around him in his sleep, but instead, Jeonghan had kept just enough distance. Close enough that Jisoo could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, far enough that not even a fingertip touched him. Somehow, that respect felt even more intimate.

Jeonghan’s devotion didn’t stop there. One day, Jisoo shared how he loved playing his flute in gardens of daisies, but couldn't because the manor was always filled with people. Jeonghan stuck onto this and built a miracle: a brand-new pavilion blooming in the palace gardens within days. Not just any pavilion—white wood polished smooth, cushions arranged carefully, and a sea of daisies planted so thickly it looked like they had always belonged there. The place felt sacred, meant only for Jisoo.

Of course, the emperor’s concubines noticed. They were young, delicate, omega's of noble families. Their eyes burned with jealousy at every privilege Jisoo was given. But Jisoo only smiled politely at them, unbothered on the outside, though inside he knew—he was just a dancer, and they were bred to rule.

One quiet afternoon, Jisoo wandered with his flute tucked in his sleeve. He admired the sweeping lines of the palace, the still ponds, the cranes that stalked the gardens. His steps eventually carried him all the way to the practice grounds.

There, young soldiers trained under the blazing sun, muscles flexing, blades slicing through the air. A few concubines sat on the benches, giggling, pretending to fan themselves while their eyes followed the movements of one man in particular.

Jeonghan.

He stood shirt loose and half-open at the chest, sweat running down the lines of his throat. His sword cut through the air with precision and power, each swing a blend of raw strength and refined grace. His hair clung to his temples, his lips parted as he panted, every inch of him a living painting of youth and fire.

Jisoo leaned against a tree, hiding a soft smile behind his fan. His young alpha looked like a dream.

Jeonghan moved like ice on the training grounds—cold, precise, untouchable. His sword struck again and again, each motion sharp, his expression unreadable.

From the shade of a tree, Jisoo fanned himself lazily, though his eyes stayed fixed on the young prince. Sweat rolled down Jeonghan’s neck, catching the sunlight, his hair falling loose from the messy bun he’d tied. Every time the strands whipped with the swing of his blade, it felt like the hair itself was part of the weapon. Jisoo found himself smiling faintly. What a dangerous boy. Dangerous and beautiful. He wanted to pluck daisies and weave them into that wild hair, soften all that sharpness with something tender.

But then, the clash of wood rang louder than the others. Jeonghan’s hand slipped, and the blunt edge of a practice sword struck him across the knuckles.

Jisoo gasped before he could stop himself. The sound was soft, barely audible, but Jeonghan’s head snapped to him instantly. The strike didn’t even make Jeonghan flinch; he stood calm, almost dismissive, like the pain was nothing. But the moment he realized his hyung had seen, the mask cracked. His eyes softened, lips pulling into the smallest pout. He abandoned his spar without hesitation and walked straight toward Jisoo, ignoring the whispers that rose behind him.

“Hyungie…” His voice dipped into a boyish whine as he held out his hand. “I’m hurt.”

Jisoo blinked at him, torn between fondness and exasperation. He caught Jeonghan’s hand, tilting it to inspect the angry red mark. “Aish, Hannie. Why won’t you be careful? You’re not a child anymore.” His thumb brushed the skin lightly, as if scolding and soothing at once.

Jeonghan leaned closer, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “I wouldn’t have come running to you if I wasn’t your child, hyung.”

Jisoo gave him a look. “Don’t start with your nonsense. Come on, I’ll treat it.”

Before Jeonghan could argue, Jisoo tugged him gently out of the practice grounds, ignoring the murmurs of the concubines still sitting there. Jeonghan followed without resistance, a quiet smile playing at his lips.

—

Back in the chamber, Jeonghan sat on the edge of the bed. His knees were spread carelessly, hands resting on his thighs, shoulders relaxed like he was used to battlefields. But his eyes… they stayed on Jisoo, heavy and unblinking, as though the older man might disappear if he looked away.

Jisoo dipped the cloth in water and pressed it gently against the cut. “You didn’t even flinch when this happened. Yet you came to me like a child crying for comfort.”

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, lips parting as his breath escaped in shallow bursts. “It… it only hurts when you see it.”

Jisoo’s brows arched. “What kind of excuse is that?”

A slow smile tugged at Jeonghan’s mouth, though his throat bobbed with a swallow. “If you weren’t looking, it wouldn’t matter.”

Jisoo paused, eyes flicking to the way the boy’s tongue swept across his lip without thought. His hand lingered against Jeonghan’s skin, sliding the cloth lower, slower. “So you’re saying my eyes make you weak?”

Jeonghan’s breath stuttered. He glanced down quickly at his bandaged hand, voice rougher than before. “Maybe…”

Jisoo tore his sleeve with a clean rip. The sharp sound made Jeonghan’s eyes snap up, pupils dark, fixed on every movement. Jisoo wound the fabric carefully around his knuckles, tugging the knot snug. He smoothed the strip against Jeonghan’s skin with the faintest press of his thumb.

“Better my sleeve than your blood staining the sheets,” Jisoo murmured.

Jeonghan’s lips parted again, his voice catching. “You… you shouldn’t waste your clothes on me.”

Jisoo leaned in, close enough to feel his uneven breath. “It’s not a waste if it keeps you in one piece.” His tone softened, almost indulgent. “Besides… it looks good on you.”

Jeonghan went utterly still. His chest rose sharply, and he ducked his head as if hiding, though his ears burned red. “Hyung…”

Jisoo smiled faintly and sat back, fanning himself lazily. “You’re restless,” he said, eyes flicking over him. “Why? The wound isn’t that deep.”

“I…” Jeonghan hesitated, fingers twitching against his thigh. “I don’t know.” His voice was low, almost broken.

Jisoo closed his fan with a snap and leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from Jeonghan’s temple. The boy leaned—unthinking—into the touch, a soft exhale slipping past his lips.

Jeonghan’s eyes stayed locked on him, pupils blown wide, shoulders tense as if he were holding back a tide inside himself. Jisoo could almost hear the stutter in his heartbeat, see the way his chest rose too fast, too sharp.

Jisoo let his fingers trail just a little longer at his temple before pulling back. He opened his fan again and waved it idly, like nothing in the room was unusual. “Mm. That’s fine. Take your time figuring it out. I can wait.”

The words made Jeonghan’s throat work, his jaw tightening. He shifted on the bed, restless, like a young soldier cornered not by an enemy blade but by something far more dangerous. His lips parted, then closed again, then parted once more. He looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck.

Instead, his tongue swept across his bottom lip, slow and distracted. He caught himself and bit down on it, hard. His fists curled against his knees, knuckles whitening under the makeshift bandage.

Jisoo watched it all unfold with calm amusement. His fan clicked shut again. “What is it, Hannie? Cat got your tongue?”

Jeonghan blinked, startled by the tease. Color climbed up his neck, staining his ears red. He shook his head too quickly, like a boy caught in a mischief he hadn’t even committed. “N-no. I just…” He cleared his throat, the sound rough. “I… I have practice.”

Jisoo tilted his head, smile tugging at his lips. “Practice?”

Jeonghan shot to his feet so fast the bed creaked. “Yes. I should… I should go back.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the loosened strands. His eyes flickered to Jisoo once more, wide and burning, before darting away just as quickly.

And then, like a boy fleeing before his composure cracked, he turned and strode toward the door. His steps were quick, almost too quick for a prince who usually carried himself with such command.

The moment he was gone, the room fell quiet again.

Jisoo let out a low chuckle, fanning himself lazily as he leaned back. “A shy alpha,” he murmured to himself, amused warmth spilling through his voice. “What am I supposed to do with you, Hannie…”

The image of Jeonghan’s desperate eyes, his bitten lip, the way his body had leaned unconsciously into his touch—it lingered. And though Jisoo told himself he shouldn’t, he found his smile softening, fond and almost indulgent.

—

Ever since that day, Jeonghan had been different around Jisoo. He smiled, he laughed, he carried himself like nothing had changed, but Jisoo noticed the tiny things. His hands shook slightly when they ate together, making even the simplest task like holding a bowl a careful struggle. When he spoke to ministers, his words were sharp and cold, but the moment he caught a glimpse of Jisoo leaning against a balcony railing or playing his flute, his composure shattered. His chest rose faster, his lips parted, and just for a moment, he looked like a boy who had no control over himself. It was frustrating, it was hilarious, and it was extremely… tempting.

And yet, he avoided Jisoo. He was present in the same room, yes, but he came to the bed only after Jisoo had fallen asleep and slipped out silently before Jisoo could wake. The inconsistency annoyed Jisoo. He was tired of it. Tonight, he decided he would take control.

He was sitting on the bed, a small novel in his hand, waiting, pretending to read, pretending not to care, but every sound from the hallway had his attention. When the doors clicked shut, he looked up to see Jeonghan stepping into the room. The prince shed his outer hanfu, folding it carefully and placing it aside before his eyes met Jisoo’s. He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach the way his eyes were burning. His lips twitched as he bit them, a small, almost unconscious movement, but it did not escape Jisoo’s attention.

“Hannie, how was your day?” Jisoo asked softly, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Good… hyung,” Jeonghan replied, eyes darting to the floor. The answer was quick, almost automatic, and half-hearted.

Jisoo lowered his book and knit his brows. “Hannie, come here. I want to talk to you.”

Jeonghan stiffened and hesitated, then slowly walked over to the bed. He sat at the edge, leaving space between them. Jisoo didn’t let him keep it. He moved closer, closing the distance, and leaned slightly so that Jeonghan couldn’t ignore him.

“..Did you get bored of me? Should I just go back to the manor?” Jisoo asked, his tone casual, almost like he was asking about the weather, but his eyes held him in place.

Jeonghan’s pupils dilated instantly. He grabbed Jisoo’s hands and pressed them to his cheeks. “No! Hyung! Please don’t say that! I… I would never leave you. I could never want anyone else,” his voice was shaky, cracking in a way that made the hairs on Jisoo’s arms stand on end.

Jisoo tilted his head slightly, amused but pretending to be stern. “Then why do you avoid me, Hannie? You hardly eat with me anymore, you barely meet my eyes in the mornings. Have you found someone else?”

“No! Never anyone else!” Jeonghan shook his head violently, as if the thought was sinful. “I would never look at anyone else. I don’t even want anyone else. You’re the only one, hyung. The only one I want…”

Jisoo leaned back slightly, letting the silence hang, letting Jeonghan stew in the words he didn’t dare say aloud. He wanted Jeonghan to squirm under him, to feel the weight of Jisoo’s attention, to see that he could be made vulnerable.

Jeonghan dropped his forehead into Jisoo’s palms, shoving his face close, pressing into the older man like he was seeking shelter. His lips trembled against Jisoo’s skin, and small sobs escaped. Jisoo’s chest tightened immediately. He had seen Jeonghan cry before, but never like this, never this raw, desperate, and completely unguarded.

“I try, hyung… I try so hard to be patient, but it hurts. It aches so much. I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jeonghan whispered, voice muffled, breath ragged. “I don’t want to just… just lie with you. I want to be worthy first. I promised. I promised I would prove myself to you. I can’t… I can’t control it anymore. It burns… it’s everywhere…”

Tears slipped down his cheeks freely, wetting Jisoo’s palms. He was trembling, shivering even, his fingers clenching at Jisoo’s hands as if he was terrified Jisoo might pull away. The sound of his whimpering was low, desperate, and it sent a hot, sharp thrill straight through Jisoo’s chest.

Jisoo didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just let Jeonghan bury himself into him, let the boy cry, let him cling like a child while sobbing into his chest. Hot, wet, trembling, desperate Jeonghan. His lips parted slightly, his tongue darting out unconsciously to wet them, his whole body tight and shaking. The scent of the boy, the heat of him, the way he pressed closer without realizing the effect he had—it made Jisoo’s chest tighten in all the right ways.

“I love you, hyung… I love you so much… and it hurts… I can’t… I can’t touch myself, it doesn’t help. I just… I just want you,” Jeonghan sobbed, letting the words tumble out between gasps. Each one was soaked with raw need, but also with the careful, desperate insistence that he wasn’t trying to take Jisoo lightly.

Jisoo chuckled softly, brushing the damp hair from Jeonghan’s forehead and pulling him closer. His hands cupped the boy’s face, holding him gently, firmly, letting him melt into him. “You poor little thing,” he murmured, and Jeonghan buried himself deeper, shivering against his chest.

“You can’t… you can’t keep doing this,” Jeonghan whispered between sobs, rocking slightly. “It’s… it’s too much. I want you… I can’t… it’s too hard, hyung. I can’t be good enough, but I need you…”

Jisoo’s lips twitched in amusement, but his eyes softened, drinking in every trembling motion, every heaving breath, every desperate whimper. He let Jeonghan stay like that, pressing his face into him, letting him cry, letting him release the tight coil of need that had been building for weeks.

Finally, Jeonghan lifted his head slightly, leaving small damp marks on Jisoo’s hanfu. His lips were swollen, his eyes red, and he bit at his own lower lip, trying to regain some composure. He inhaled shakily. “Hyung… I shouldn’t… I should be stronger… I can’t just… I can’t just… I’m sorry…”

Jisoo tilted his head and smiled faintly. “I know,” he said softly. “You’re not using me, Hannie. You’re just… being honest with yourself.”

Jeonghan’s fingers twitched against Jisoo’s chest, still restless. “It hurts too much, hyung. My whole body aches, and I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I try… even when I train… I can’t… it’s all for you, hyung. I… I love you too much…”

Jisoo’s chest tightened, and he let out a soft laugh, barely more than a breath. “Ah, you little mess,” he murmured, pulling Jeonghan fully into his arms. He pressed the boy to his chest, letting him curl into him completely. Jeonghan’s tears soaked through his hanfu, his lips trembling, but he didn’t care. He just held onto Jisoo like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“I can’t… I can’t wait any longer, hyung,” Jeonghan said in a small, desperate voice, muffled against Jisoo’s chest. “It hurts too much to be patient. I… I want you so badly it’s… it’s unbearable…”

“Do you want me to ease it for you, baby?” Jisoo asked quietly, his voice a low hum that seemed to vibrate through Jeonghan’s bones.

Jeonghan’s head snapped up instantly, eyes wide and wet, his lashes sticking together from tears. His lips parted in a soft, startled gasp, the word baby ringing in his head until it made him dizzy. The nickname made the ache in his body spike, his chest rising and falling faster as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

“B-but… I haven’t proved my worth…” Jeonghan whispered, his voice trembling, the words breaking apart as he tried to hold onto his last shred of self-control.

“You have,” Jisoo said immediately, his thumb brushing under Jeonghan’s eye to catch a tear. He stroked the boy’s damp, messy hair from crying, tilting his face up until their eyes met. “Do any alphas cry like this with their omega? You’re not following the stereotypes, Hannie. You searched this kingdom for me. You protect me. You put me first even when it hurts. I don’t think I need a better alpha than you.”

Jeonghan’s lower lip trembled again, his breath catching in his throat. “Hyung…” he whispered, eyes flickering between Jisoo’s lips and eyes, his fingers still clutching at Jisoo’s robes like he was scared he’d disappear. “I don’t want to use you. I don’t want to just take. I… I just want you. All of you…”

Jisoo tilted his head, his thumb still moving in slow circles against Jeonghan’s cheek. “And you think you haven’t already proven yourself?” His voice was soft but teasing, a low purr that sent a shiver down Jeonghan’s spine. “You’ve been burning yourself alive with restraint, Hannie. That’s proof enough.”

Jeonghan let out a choked noise, something between a sob and a moan, as his body trembled harder. “I can’t stop shaking… it hurts so bad down there…” he admitted, his cheeks turning red with shame even as the words poured out. “I dream about you every night, hyung. I wake up wet. I touch myself and it’s not enough. It’s never enough. I can’t… I can’t keep pretending anymore…”

Jisoo smiled faintly, his fingers sliding from Jeonghan’s cheek down to his jaw, then to the back of his neck, pulling him a little closer until their foreheads touched. He could feel Jeonghan’s erratic breathing, the heat coming off his skin. “Then stop pretending,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. “Let me take care of you.”

Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered shut at the words, his lips parting slightly. His hands moved from Jisoo’s robe to his waist, clinging there helplessly. “Hyung…” he whispered again, but this time there was no protest in it, only pure, trembling want.

Jisoo chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Jeonghan’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over Jeonghan’s lower lip. “Crying for me, begging without even realizing it. My little alpha, such a mess.”

“Come on, sit back baby, I'll help you” Jisoo said and jeonghan reluctantly let go of Jisoo and sat back.

Jisoo then slid on the floor and settled between Jeonghan's legs, making Jeonghan gasp while he wiped his flowing tears, “h-hyung…what are you doing..?”

“Just feel, little kitten” Jisoo said softly and started to untie the multiple layers of hanfu the crown prince was wearing.

Jisoo’s fingers brushed the last layer aside, and Jeonghan’s breath hitched as his huge cock sprang free, flushed and heavy against his stomach. The younger’s cheeks burned crimson, fresh tears spilling down as he tried to hide his face behind trembling hands.

Jisoo only smiled, tilting his chin up with one finger. “Don’t hide from me, Hannie. You look beautiful like this.”

“Hyung… it’s— it’s embarrassing,” Jeonghan stammered, his voice cracking. His thighs twitched, the sheer weight of need pressing down on him until his whole body shook.

Jisoo lowered his gaze, deliberately slow, letting his eyes trace over the length of Jeonghan’s cock. He leaned in, lips parting just enough for his warm breath to ghost over the swollen tip. “Embarrassing?” he murmured. “No… it’s perfect.”

The moment Jisoo’s mouth closed around the head, Jeonghan cried out, a ragged sob tearing from his throat. His hands flew to Jisoo’s hair but froze there, unsure if he should pull him away or hold him closer.

“Hyung—! F-fuck—” His voice broke into another moan as Jisoo gave a sharp, wet suck, cheeks hollowing elegantly around him.

Tears streaked Jeonghan’s flushed face as his hips bucked helplessly. He choked on his own cry, torn between shame and pleasure, his words tumbling without order. “—good-! F-feels…so..ngh! G-good!!”

Jisoo hummed low in his throat, sending vibrations straight through the younger’s length. He pulled back only enough to drag his tongue over the slit, tasting him, before swallowing him down again. The wet sounds filled the chamber, obscene and deliberate, every slurp sharp enough to make Jeonghan’s body jolt.

“Hyung, please— please, I’m gonna—” Jeonghan’s voice cracked as his legs shook. His chest heaved, his tears dripping onto his own bare skin, every sob matched with another moan.

Jisoo pulled back just slightly, lips shining, and looked up at him through lowered lashes. His voice was calm, commanding, graceful even as his mouth was wet and dirty. “Don’t hold back, baby. Cry for me, moan for me. Let me see everything.”

And with that, he pushed down further, taking more of Jeonghan’s massive cock into his throat, elegant composure meeting pure filth as the crown prince broke apart under him.

Jisoo’s mouth moved faster now, lips sliding wetly along Jeonghan’s cock, each suck pulling a broken moan from the trembling alpha. His long hair fell loose over his shoulders, strands slipping from the loosened pin with every bob of his head. It framed his face like silk, brushing against Jeonghan’s thighs as though every part of him belonged there.

Jeonghan’s vision blurred, not only from the tears streaming down his cheeks but from the sheer high of it all. His body shook violently, chest heaving as he tried to keep breathing, but nothing—nothing—could ground him while Jisoo knelt at his feet, elegant and devastating, devouring him whole.

“H-hyung—” Jeonghan gasped, his voice hoarse, broken. His hands finally tangled into Jisoo’s hair, not to guide, not to control, but to hold, to anchor himself as he fell apart. “You’re… you’re everything…fuck, you’re my everything—”

Jisoo pulled back just enough to let his lips drag along the thick vein, eyes flicking up, half-lidded and glistening. “Then give it to me, Hannie. Don’t hold back.” His voice was ruined, sultry, a command dressed as a caress.

The sight of him like that—mouth swollen, hair falling free, the very man he’d searched the world for on his knees with such grace—burned Jeonghan from the inside out. His whole body arched, his vision went white, and he sobbed as the coil snapped.

“JISOO HYUNG—!” His omega’s name ripped from his throat, raw and worshipful, as his hips bucked and he spilled deep into Jisoo’s throat. Tears streamed down his face, his lips trembling as he cried through the pleasure, moaning and choking on broken syllables.

Jisoo swallowed greedily, taking everything, not spilling a drop. The wet sounds filled the chamber, obscene and perfect, while Jeonghan clutched him like a drowning man, trembling and shaking as wave after wave hit him.

When Jisoo finally pulled back, a trail of slick connected his lips to Jeonghan’s spent cock, his hair fully loose now, cascading around his shoulders in disarray. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at the prince with that elegant, devastating smile.

Jeonghan’s chest still quivered from the high, but his eyes never left Jisoo. The omega rose from between his legs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and began loosening the silken layers of his robes.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched. His stomach fluttered so hard he thought he might collapse all over again. He had fought, bled, and ached for this man, but nothing had prepared him for the sight of Jisoo untying his garments with unhurried grace, baring soft skin inch by inch.

“Hyung…” Jeonghan whispered, voice cracked, almost reverent. His trembling fingers curled into his palms to keep himself from reaching.

Jisoo smiled faintly, as though savoring the way Jeonghan fell apart just watching. “You look like you’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

“I have,” Jeonghan admitted, a broken laugh leaving him before more tears spilled down his cheeks. His first love, his only love, was shedding his elegance in front of him, and he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear it—he needed him.

When Jisoo leaned down and pressed their mouths together, Jeonghan gasped so sharply it hurt. The kiss was soft at first, just the press of lips, but Jeonghan’s restraint shattered instantly. A desperate sound tore from him as he leaned forward, clutching at Jisoo’s waist and kissing back with the hunger of years unsaid.

His lips parted clumsily, his tongue pushing past Jisoo’s, eager, needy, greedy. He sucked, whined, pushed deeper, every motion messy and raw. It wasn’t skill, it was worship. He drank Jisoo in like a man starved, moaning into his mouth as if he could crawl inside him.

Jisoo let him. Guided him. Tilted his head and kissed back with elegance and control, giving just enough for Jeonghan to drown himself in. And when Jeonghan whimpered, breathless against his lips, Jisoo cupped his wet cheek, wiping his tears with his thumb.

“You love me that much?” he teased softly, though his eyes gave away how deeply he already knew.

Jeonghan’s lips trembled. “I do. More than anything. More than my crown. More than my life.” His voice cracked, and he kissed him again, rougher, tears slipping between their mouths. “Hyung, I want—I want to make you feel good too. Please. I want to satisfy you.”

Jisoo’s lips curved against his. “Satisfy me?” He pulled back just enough to see Jeonghan’s flushed, desperate face. “My little alpha thinks he can?”

Jeonghan pouted, cheeks hot, his eyes still glistening. “I can… I’ll try. I’ll do anything, hyung.”

“Anything?” Jisoo murmured, his tone a purr now. He trailed his fingers along Jeonghan’s jaw, down to his throat, resting there lightly as his smile widened. “You’ve never done this before. You don’t even know where to start.”

Jeonghan ducked his head, embarrassed, but still nodded fiercely. “Then teach me. Please. I want it to be me. No one else. Only me.”

Jisoo tilted his head, amused, elegant even as his robes slipped looser around his shoulders. “You’re hopeless when you beg.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against Jeonghan’s ear, his whisper sultry and warm. “Alright, Hannie. I’ll teach you. Don't make me lose my composure yet.”

Jisoo’s fingers toyed with the last ties of his inner robes, watching Jeonghan’s wide, tear-stained eyes. The silk slipped away, layer by layer, until pale plum skin was revealed in the candlelight. His chest rose slow and steady, pecs firm yet soft enough to tempt, his waist narrowing into the graceful curve of his hips.

Jeonghan’s breath caught, his lips parting like he’d been struck. His stomach fluttered, his whole body tightening as though he couldn’t withstand the sight of him. “H-Hyung…” he whispered, voice cracked, almost a sob.

Jisoo smiled faintly, amused by his awe. “You look as though you’ve never seen a body before.”

“Not yours,” Jeonghan answered instantly, and his honesty nearly broke Jisoo’s composure.

Jisoo leaned forward, caught his chin, and kissed him again — deep, claiming, until Jeonghan whined into his mouth. Then, with gentle insistence, Jisoo tugged at him, guiding him down onto the bed. He lay back against the silk sheets, his hair spilling loose around his shoulders, his half-bare body spread out like a vision.

“Come here, Hannie,” he murmured, pulling Jeonghan to hover above him. Their lips brushed again, and Jeonghan kissed him desperately, messy, clinging.

When Jisoo finally pulled back, his voice was low, sultry. “You said you wanted to satisfy me. Do you mean it?”

Jeonghan nodded hard, his eyes wet and wild. “Please… I’ll do anything. Show me.”

Jisoo smirked, tilting his head in mock thought, and then guided Jeonghan’s hand lower, down the soft line of his stomach, until it brushed the heat between his thighs. The prince shuddered like he’d been burned.

“That’s where you start,” Jisoo teased softly, lifting his hips just enough to emphasize the invitation. “But don’t rush, Hannie. Taste me. Learn me. I’ll tell you what to do.”

Jeonghan’s cheeks flushed scarlet, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. His hands trembled as he shifted lower, settling between Jisoo’s parted thighs. His lips hovered uncertainly, his breath hot against sensitive skin, and his eyes darted up for reassurance.

Jisoo’s expression softened, though his smile stayed sultry. He reached down, brushing his fingers through Jeonghan’s damp hair. “Go on. You’ll do fine… my little alpha.”

Jeonghan lowered himself, breath hitching as his lips hovered over the soft swell of Jisoo’s thighs. His hands trembled where they held him open, fingers digging into the older omega’s hips like he was afraid he might slip away.

“Hannie,” Jisoo murmured, voice sweet and commanding at once, “don’t just stare. Taste.”

Jeonghan whined softly, but he obeyed, pressing his mouth against the slick folds of Jisoo’s pussy. His tongue moved clumsily at first, more worship than technique, lapping at him with the desperation of someone who had no idea what he was doing but couldn’t stop himself anyway.

The slick sound of his mouth filled the room, wet and shameless, until Jisoo let out a low laugh. He clicked his tongue, tilting his head. “Messy eater,” he teased, threading his fingers through Jeonghan’s damp hair and tugging lightly. “You’re drooling all over me.”

Jeonghan moaned into him, the vibration making Jisoo gasp softly. “S-sorry, hyung… I don’t… I don’t know how…” His words broke apart into whimpers as he dove back in, his tongue tracing blindly, too fast, too desperate.

“Mm, but your need makes up for the lack of experience,” Jisoo sighed, arching slightly into the wet mess of Jeonghan’s mouth. His tone was indulgent, mocking yet fond, as if every mistake only made him more endearing. “Sloppy little kitten, so eager to please.”

Jeonghan’s tears dripped down his flushed cheeks, wetting Jisoo’s skin as he sucked hard at the swollen nub. The older omega hissed in delight, his hips twitching up against Jeonghan’s mouth.

“That’s it,” Jisoo praised, his voice husky now. “But slower, Hannie. Circle my clit… yes, just like that. Don’t rush. Let me feel every bit of that tongue.”

Jeonghan sobbed, his voice muffled against Jisoo’s heat. “I-I want you to feel good, hyung. I need you to…” His words dissolved into a broken moan as he followed the instruction, his lips pulling at Jisoo’s clit in messy, wet sucks.

Jisoo chuckled again, low and devastating. “Crying between my legs and still so hungry. Do you know how obscene you look right now? My prince, ruined, just to make me come…”

Jeonghan whimpered louder at the words, clinging harder to Jisoo’s thighs, sucking greedily even as his sobs shook his chest.

Jisoo sighed, the sound sharp and deliberate, his back arching as another shudder went through him. His hand tightened in Jeonghan’s hair and tugged firmly, pulling the younger’s wet mouth away from his swollen cunt.

“Hannie,” he breathed, voice caught between pleasure and scolding. “Slow down. You’ll ruin me like this.”

Jeonghan’s face was flushed, wet with tears and slick, lips red and swollen. He looked up in panic, his voice cracking. “D-did I… did I do it wrong, hyung? I just—”

“Shh.” Jisoo hushed him with a soft smile, brushing the damp hair off his forehead, then pushing him gently back down. “Not wrong. Just sloppy. Let me show you.”

He tugged Jeonghan closer by the hair until his mouth hovered just over the glistening folds again. “Now… tongue flat, right here.” He shifted Jeonghan’s chin with his thumb, sighing when the boy pressed his tongue exactly where he was told. “Good. Now, move slow. Up and down, not too fast.”

Jeonghan obeyed, trembling, his tongue dragging clumsily but steady along Jisoo’s slick heat.

“Yes… just like that,” Jisoo sighed, hips rocking slightly against his mouth. “Now circle… small, careful… mm, that’s better, Hannie. That’s how you make your omega sing.”

Jeonghan moaned helplessly into him, the sound muffled and desperate, his tears spilling freely again. “Hyung… you taste so good… I-I can’t—”

“You can.” Jisoo tugged his hair tighter, guiding his head in slow, deliberate motions. “Now suck. Just here. Wrap your lips around it and suck.”

The prince whimpered but obeyed, closing his lips around Jisoo’s clit and sucking hard. Jisoo gasped, his thighs trembling, his elegant composure breaking as his voice turned breathless. “Yes… Hannie, that’s it. Just like that. God, you’re learning so quickly.”

The wet, lewd sounds filled the room as Jeonghan devoured him, guided by every tug of Jisoo’s hand and every low sigh of approval. He was still messy, still crying, still trembling with need, but every slip was matched with frantic devotion.

Jisoo’s grip in his hair tightened again, his breath breaking into sharp gasps as his thighs quivered around Jeonghan’s face. “Deeper now… push your tongue inside me, Hannie. Slow—ah, yes, just like that.”

Jeonghan moaned against him, his tongue sliding into the tight heat, tasting more of Jisoo with every trembling push. His hands clutched Jisoo’s soft thighs as though he might float away otherwise, his whole body shaking with how badly he wanted to please.

“That’s it… gods, yes—fuck—” Jisoo’s elegant composure cracked, his voice dissolving into moans as he guided Jeonghan’s head closer, grinding subtly against his eager mouth. “Curl your tongue—ahh, there, there—fuck, Hannie, you’re making me lose it—”

Jeonghan pulled back just a fraction, lips wet, eyes wild and glassy as they locked on Jisoo’s. “Hyung… can I… can I go faster? Please?”

For a moment Jisoo only stared, breathless, his chest heaving. He could see it in Jeonghan’s eyes: raw hunger, desperate devotion, a fire that was only his. His lips curved into a smile, soft yet ruinous. “…Yes, my prince. Show me.”

The instant the words left him, Jeonghan dove back in. He devoured Jisoo’s cunt with a ferocity that made the older man gasp out loud, his back arching as he fisted the sheets. His tongue pushed in deep, then dragged up to flick and suck at Jisoo’s clit, messy and wet but devastatingly effective.

“Oh—fuck, Hannie—yes, yes—” Jisoo’s thighs clamped around his head, his hips jerking despite himself as Jeonghan licked him raw. Every frantic lap, every greedy suck, every desperate moan into his core sent heat spiraling through him.

And Jeonghan was weeping, truly sobbing into Jisoo’s body, his tears mixing with slick as though worship itself drove him mad. His inexperience was still there, but his need—his need made up for the lack of experience, turning every clumsy movement into something devastating.

“Hyung, I love you—I love you so much,” Jeonghan choked into him, before sucking hard again, eyes full of worship and hunger.

Jisoo’s hand trembled in his hair, his head falling back as the coil in his stomach tightened, threatening to snap under the younger’s relentless devotion.

Jeonghan’s tongue moved faster now, sloppy and feral, tears streaking down his cheeks as he pushed every inch of himself into Jisoo. His hands gripped Jisoo’s hips, pulling him closer, shoving his face deeper, and the sight of Jeonghan so undone, so worshipful, made Jisoo’s back arch violently.

“Hannie… fuck… yes—just like that,” Jisoo gasped, fingers digging into Jeonghan’s hair, tugging him closer with every shuddering word. “Oh gods… you’re killing me, baby—just like that!”

Jeonghan whimpered around him, his throat slick, lips and tongue working frantically, moaning brokenly into the wet heat. “Hyung… I—” he choked, pressing in deeper. “I want to make you feel… good…”

Jisoo could barely think, could barely speak. His hips rolled involuntarily against the prince’s face, every gasp and moan shredding the fragile control he had left. His clit pulsed against Jeonghan’s tongue, slick coating the younger’s lips, and then the coil snapped.

“Fuuuck—Hannie! God—ohhh—!” Jisoo screamed, shivering violently as the first wave of his orgasm tore through him. He pressed his thighs against Jeonghan’s head, hands still tangled in his hair, holding him there as he rode out every shuddering, trembling spike of pleasure.

Jeonghan’s sobs intensified, hot and wet against him, and he couldn’t stop. Every shiver, every broken moan, every frantic lick seemed to push Jisoo over the edge again, making him gasp and arch further. “You’re—fuck—you’re amazing… oh god, Hannie—keep going—don’t stop—don’t stop—!”

The prince, still trembling from his own recent release, stayed relentless, letting Jisoo ride him, letting his love, his hunger, his devotion pour into every frantic motion. Jisoo’s cunt pulsed around his tongue, his entire body shaking with need and release, and he clutched Jeonghan’s head tighter, marking him as completely devoted.

When the final wave hit, Jisoo gasped, shuddered, and fell back, spent, his hair tousled, sweat and slick coating the space between them. Jeonghan’s own tears and wetness were dripping down his cheeks and chin, his lips swollen, his body trembling from overstimulation. He lifted his head slightly, eyes glassy, and whispered, “Hyung… are you… satisfied?”

Jisoo’s fingers brushed through the mess of hair, his voice ragged, low, and utterly unrestrained. “Yes, baby… more than I’ve ever been… thanks to you.”

Jeonghan melted against him, resting his forehead on Jisoo’s chest, utterly spent but glowing with the overwhelming pride and devotion of having pleased the one he loved with everything he had. His sobs had slowed to quiet sniffles, but the raw, desperate hunger in his eyes remained—Jisoo saw it, and it made him smile, knowing this beautiful, elegant, hopelessly devoted alpha was entirely his.

Jeonghan was still trembling against Jisoo’s chest, his breaths uneven, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling too fast. Jisoo’s fingers absently traced the curve of his jaw, eyes softening as he felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against his own thigh.

“Still… not done, little alpha?” Jisoo murmured, voice low and teasing, though there was no judgment, only amusement and desire.

Jeonghan’s face flushed deeper, lips parting in a soft, helpless gasp. He didn’t answer, didn’t need to—his body betrayed him, pressing closer, the ache in his core demanding attention.

Jisoo shifted slightly, allowing the prince to align himself. “If you want…” he whispered, brushing his hands along Jeonghan’s shoulders, “you can… stay inside.”

Jeonghan’s hips moved slowly, pressing forward until he eased fully into Jisoo’s cunt. Jisoo gasped softly, feeling himself split open by the prince’s size, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let Jeonghan sink deeper, feeling the younger alpha stretch and fill him completely.

“You’re… always so cold out there, and yet…” Jisoo murmured, voice low, teasing, brushing his hand along Jeonghan’s trembling back, “…you cry like this for me.”

Jeonghan whimpered, face buried in Jisoo’s shoulder, chest rising and falling rapidly. “H-hyung… I… I can’t help it…” he admitted, shivering as warmth pooled between them.

Jisoo chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Jeonghan’s head. “I know, little alpha… you’re all mine,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around him to hold him close.

Jeonghan’s body slowly went still, trembling easing as he nuzzled into Jisoo’s chest. “Hyung…” he murmured, sleepy and satisfied, “…I love you…” His voice was soft, barely audible, but full of everything he felt.

Jisoo kissed his head again, lingering, warm and tender. “I love you too, Hannie,” he replied, voice steady and comforting.

The prince relaxed fully, letting Jisoo hold him, and drifted off to sleep, utterly spent, safe, and claimed. Jisoo stroked his hair gently, listening to his breathing slow and even, a soft smile on his lips as he savored the quiet intimacy between them, the warmth of their bodies and hearts pressed together, the love finally mutual and undeniable.