vixx: In Bloom
Title: In Bloom
Pairing: N/Leo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: sexual themes
Summary: There's no time alone -- none at all. (modern day prince!au)
a/n: this is a cross-post from the forvixx exchanged that happened 5ever ago omg
This is the third time today that someone has ran, shouting, from the prince’s presence. He grimaces as the princess vaults the small bush in her haste to flee the winding gardens; she nearly clears it, but falls on her face. When she gets up, her scream resumes and so does her escape.
Hakyeon tuts, watching her leave. He crosses his knees, arms already so, and refrains from feeling anything about her tumble. “She should learn to jump.”
“That’s a little rude,” Taekwoon comments to Hakyeon’s left. The prince is perched on the fountain’s stone edge, and Taekwoon stands there, silver tray still in his hands even though Hakyeon was done with tea some time ago.
“She was rude.” Hakyeon grumbles. The princess has disappeared from view, and Hakyeon shifts to look at his hands. He has nicks on his knuckles from the white rose bushes in the garden, and he was in the process of digging through one when he was interrupted. A message saying that the silly princess was here, to converse with him, and to have tea with her.
So, of course, Hakyeon had tea with her.
“That could’ve gone better,” Taekwoon says, once more, in his soft voice, but there’s a tinge of amusement.
“It’s not funny.” Hakyeon glares up at his personal assistant -- some (Hakyeon) would call “butler.” “I will not put up with name-calling of any sort directed your way. Should’ve dumped tea on her on as well -- I was on a roll.”
“I think what you said was enough.”
Hakyeon plucks the rose from behind his ear and looks at the full petals for a moment; it was the only one of the whole bunch to have fully bloomed. He motions for Taekwoon to come closer and pats the spot beside him. “Sit.” Taekwoon sits, and Hakyeon tucks the rose behind his ear. “There you go.”
“Happy?”
Hakyeon studies Taekwoon; dressed in his dark colors and white gloves, white flower peeking out to frame his eyes -- he’s a man of contrasting colors. He’s beautiful. Hakyeon smiles, “For now.”
“Hold me. Tighter.” Hakyeon’s breaths are rough, and he directs the young man’s hand to his hip, presses those fingers into the dip. “Harder.”
The chair creaks underneath them, and Hakyeon shifts in the lap he’s in. “Taekwoon, pay attention.”
The man’s got his chin tucked into Hakyeon’s shoulder, looking over it and at his textbook. “It’s hard to study like this.” Taekwoon’s having some sort of reaction -- Hakyeon can feel it -- but he’s resilient, being strict with himself.
“Your degree can wait,” Hakyeon breathes into his ear, taking his fingers to brush aside wavy, dark hair. Taekwoon’s left hand is still dug into his hip, and Hakyeon makes a slow grind into him. Reaction: Taekwoon stiffening considerably. “Kiss me now.”
“You’re being,” Taekwoon squeezes Hakyeon’s hip, sounding mildly distressed, “difficult.”
A gasp. “Me?”
“You.” Taekwoon now has both hands on Hakyeon’s waist. “Just give me….”
Hakyeon licks the line of Taekwoon’s jaw, and leans back so he has Taekwoon’s desk pressed into spine. He kicks his legs, letting them swing on either side of the chair, and he’s got Taekwoon’s gaze locked with his, finally away from his homework. “Please?”
It takes a long moment, but when Taekwoon’s hands slide down from his hips to his thighs -- Hakyeon can feel the rings he wears even through his pants -- he knows he’s got him. Taekwoon’s lips are soft, like they always are, a few brushes around Hakyeon’s mouth, then over his lips.
Hakyeon surges back into him, pressing Taekwoon into the chair; he fists his hands in Taekwoon’s soft t-shirt, tugs on it. Taekwoon kisses him again, still too gentle for Hakyeon’s taste. Just as Hakyeon starts to use his tongue to push past Taekwoon’s lips, there’s a knock on the door.
The door creaks open.
“Prince Hakyeon?” One of the women that tends to the queen has her head in the doorway, and Hakyeon looks up from where he’s thrown himself on the bed. “It’s curfew soon, and your mother noticed you weren’t in your room.”
Hakyeon uses his most patient smile. “Okay. I’ll go in a second.”
The lady stares at him a bit longer and finally gives up once she realizes Hakyeon won’t follow her out. Once the door shuts with a click, Hakyeon drops his head against the comforter. “I hope they realize I’m too old for a curfew; I’m in the castle grounds, aren’t I?”
Taekwoon snickers, still at his desk.
“What’s so funny?”
He shakes his head, but he’s got his lip sucked between his teeth and keeps shaking. “You could be at some party, but instead--” he tries to wipe off his smile, “--you’re in here with me.”
Hakyeon frowns and rolls onto his side to face Taekwoon. “Rather here than there; I don’t understand why that’s exactly funny.” All he can see is Taekwoon’s profile, a chunk of hair acting as a curtain to his eyes, but Hakyeon can sense the eye roll. He purses his lips.
“It is funny.” Taekwoon goes back to scribbling notes, and Hakyeon props his head up with Taekwoon’s pillow. “Are you falling asleep there or are you coming back?”
Hakyeon makes a face. “Would you like me to sit in your lap again?”
“You just seem tired.” Taekwoon flips a page in his textbook, peeking at Hakyeon from behind his bangs. “You probably need the sleep. You were up at dawn after staying awake with me last light, and I’m pretty sure you were falling asleep in your lunch.”
“Right. But you were the one to wake me up after falling asleep later than me. How are you still awake?”
Taekwoon holds up his mug.
“You are going to crash.”
“Maybe.”
Hakyeon pats the bed. “Come lay here with me, and then we both can fall asleep.” He scoots to make room. “Come on.”
Taekwoon looks interested, eyes lingering a bit on Hakyeon -- drifting from his face to his hands to lower -- and shifts focus back to his desk, lower lip bitten. He doesn’t voice the no that Hakyeon can hear. “Well, I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
Sleep takes Hakyeon in a quick fashion -- it sucks him right in after a few minutes -- and sometime in the night he wakes up to darkness. There’s darkness, but there’s also a weight beside him, a dip in the bed, and he lays back down. He smiles and tucks himself close.
Hakyeon stares at the wall. It’s the same patterned wallpaper he’s stared at every day of his life; not much about it is different. But Hakyeon loses himself like this amidst the talk of budgets and plans that don’t concern him. In a way, it all does, but no one speaks to him, no one treats him as an equal, so he extracts himself from the fuss.
He sighs.
Fiddling with the buttons at his wrist, Hakyeon thinks about how Taekwoon’s dressed now. He’s waiting back up at Hakyeon’s rooms, probably in his white button-up and wearing a tie in the shades of the royal colors. His uniform makes him look like a school boy. Hakyeon manages to suppress his chuckle. Barely.
The meeting ends and Hakyeon’s father is much too busy to keep track of his son, and he takes the chance to slip away. Hakyeon hopes Taekwoon’s wearing his gloves; those are ridiculous. He takes steps two at a time, and many stare, probably think about asking what’s the hurry, but Hakyeon has to be fast to make it in time before his next schedule. He slides into his room without much ado, and sure enough, Taekwoon is waiting.
“I thought they’d never let me go.”
Taekwoon’s hair is gelled back now that he’s on the job, and he gives Hakyeon a small smile that reflects in his whole face. “Lunch,” he brings up, and points to the table in the corner, points with a gloved hand to Hakyeon’s lunch that’s ready and waiting.
But Hakyeon doesn’t stop walking once he gets in the door. He doesn’t look at the food. He walks up to Taekwoon, grabs the hair at the back of the man’s neck, and gives him a crushing kiss, one that hurts. Taekwoon’s slim fingers grab at Hakyeon’s sides.
“You need to eat.”
Hakyeon disregards this. Taekwoon’s always mentioning what he needs -- he needs this, that, Hakyeon, please -- but what about what he wants? Hakyeon licks inside of his mouth, running his tongue on the inside of Taekwoon’s lip and has a solid grip on his jaw.
Taekwoon unwinds his fingers from the creases in Hakyeon’s suit jacket and instead slips his hands underneath and feels him through the thin material of his button-up. His fingers squeeze lightly, undoing their pressure, and then squeezing more. Hakyeon sucks in a breath.
“Sit.” Hakyeon pushes on Taekwoon. “Sit down.”
Taekwoon totters back a step but is otherwise unyielding to Hakyeon’s order. “You should eat before you--”
Rapid knocking interrupts once more. A gruff voice: “They request that you come down now. Prince Hakyeon?”
Hakyeon leans his forehead on Taekwoon’s shoulder. “They don’t need me,” he whispers. “I’m going to sit there while they talk around me. Do you know how frustrating that is?”
More knocking.
Hakyeon sighs, and he’s been separated from Taekwoon once more.
What’s worse is the never-ending lists his mother seems to procure of available women. Hakyeon’s turned down quite a few offers. The first few years he was always cordial, declining opportunities to speak to the candidates, botch the meeting in a minor way, but his mother’s attempts have become increasingly aggressive. A simple decline in offer will not get Hakyeon off, and he’s had to resort to faking illness and even dumping hot tea on himself to escape.
First-degree burns are not ideal, and Hakyeon takes care in making sure he never has to go to those lengths again, but--
Hakyeon blinks. “I don’t really get on with women.”
--sometimes less than ideal options have to be chosen.
The girl stares back at him. She’s pretty; her hair is long, put into nice curls and her face is kind enough. She sips her tea, puts the cup back down to where it clinks against the porcelain dish, and says, “Good. I don’t get on with men.” She folds her arms. “I’ll let my mother know what you said about my bloodline, and you can tell your mother I think she’s goat-faced.”
“A heated argument,” Hakyeon agrees, going along with their cover up. “Terrible it had to turn out like this.” He thinks he sees Taekwoon pinching the bridge of his nose out the corner of his eye, but he won’t bother looking. If Taekwoon isn’t then he most certainly wants to.
“The tea is good,” the girl comments, nodding. “I’m thankful for that.”
“Taekwoon can brew a great cup of tea, can’t he?”
“I feel like I’ve been dead up until this point.” She looks at Taekwoon, and Hakyeon looks at Taekwoon, and Taekwoon looks at neither of them. “Thank you for this.” She leaves only after her fourth cup.
And later: “You ran a risk earlier.”
Hakyeon fluffs his hair in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes are more prominent today, and he frowns. “Yeah, well, I risk getting married off.”
Taekwoon can’t say much to that and goes back to studying from his textbook. He’s Hakyeon’s personal assistant by day, online college student at night, and Hakyeon keeps him company in the late hours.
(Is he more of a distraction? Probably.)
“Hakyeon, I--”
“You need sleep tonight.” Hakyeon comes up behind Taekwoon’s chair and starts massaging his shoulders. His boy’s wearing another thin t-shirt, and his shoulder muscles are so detailed under his fingers; he can feel the dips and grooves, and he pushes into them, knowing they must ache.
Taekwoon leans his head back. His eyes meet Hakyeon’s at this angle, and the prince can’t help but grin down at him. “I’m trying to tell you something,” Taekwoon reminds him, gently. Gently as all things Taekwoon does.
“And,” Hakyeon swallows, “what is that?”
“Don’t do something that will get you into trouble.”
Hakyeon’s hands cease. He knows what Taekwoon means. “You’re not going to get me in trouble. I’ll get me in trouble.”
“And I can get fired, and that looks excellent for future employment.”
Hakyeon forces a smile. “You think too much.” He leans down and kisses the tip of Taekwoon’s nose. “Don’t worry.”
But it’s hard to not worry when Taekwoon holds him tight some days, behind closed doors, silly gloves still on and hair pushed back, and then wonder where it leaves them. Taekwoon will move on at some point; either move up higher in status here or seek a job elsewhere once completing his degree. Hakyeon worries.
He didn’t when Taekwoon first started. All he did was brew tea and ask Hakyeon if the room temperature was comfortable and make him ramen cups when the prince was being particularly grumpy. He fluffed pillows, held open doors -- anything but spoke more than five words to him. And that’s where Hakyeon decided to take the chance.
And he found an ear willing to listen.
Hakyeon pulls on Taekwoon and finally coaxes him out of his chair, onto Taekwoon’s own bed. It sinks with their combined weight as Taekwoon sits in the prince’s lap this time. His fingers are combing into Hakyeon’s hair; it sends tingles down his spine.
The kisses come next. Slow, soft, eager to be had -- Taekwoon is purposefully taking his time rather than giving Hakyeon what he knows he wants. His hands -- delicate looking but strong, so strong -- frame Hakyeon’s face, resting on his cheekbones. Taekwoon’s small sigh makes his chest swell.
He expects someone to fracture this moment. A rap on the door to end the moment for good, but when there is none, Hakyeon emboldens himself more and more to where he feels comfortable to put his hands under the hem of Taekwoon’s shirt, massaging just above his hips. Taekwoon curls into him, almost like a reflex, and Hakyeon makes sure to hold him close, to hold him safe.
There’s nothing to worry about.
Hakyeon and Taekwoon watch as the girl leaves the garden in a huff, throwing scowls over her shoulder. “Don’t say it.” Hakyeon sits on the fountain’s ledge, eyeing Taekwoon. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
Hakyeon has another white rose pinched between his fingers and he rolls it back and forth between his thumb and first finger. He motions for Taekwoon, and Taekwoon tucks his silver tray under his arm and wears a look that asks, “again?”
But, yes. Again.
Taekwoon walks toward Hakyeon and stands in front, knees touching knees, one standing while the other sits. The rose is raised between them, and Hakyeon says not a word. He knows that this looks like. “I’m not down on one knee,” Hakyeon chuckles, “but….”
Taekwoon’s cheeks are red. The tray shakes where he holds it, and his other hand keeps making motions to grab the rose from Hakyeon but then stilling. Hakyeon clears his throat. “If you take it, don’t crush it.”
“If I take it, I don’t think I’ll be the one to do that.”
Hakyeon smiles upward at him. He waits a moment, another, and then the rose slips from his grasp. Taekwoon tucks it behind his own ear. He’s smiling as well. “Happy?” His voice barely disturbs the air, his knees poking at Hakyeon’s -- his smile rises unbidden.
Hakyeon takes the back of Taekwoon’s hand and raises it to his lips before the other can protest. He brushes his lips against the pale skin. Eyes traveling up the length of the arm, up to Taekwoon’s crinkled eyes, he replies, “Of course.”
Pairing: N/Leo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: sexual themes
Summary: There's no time alone -- none at all. (modern day prince!au)
a/n: this is a cross-post from the forvixx exchanged that happened 5ever ago omg
This is the third time today that someone has ran, shouting, from the prince’s presence. He grimaces as the princess vaults the small bush in her haste to flee the winding gardens; she nearly clears it, but falls on her face. When she gets up, her scream resumes and so does her escape.
Hakyeon tuts, watching her leave. He crosses his knees, arms already so, and refrains from feeling anything about her tumble. “She should learn to jump.”
“That’s a little rude,” Taekwoon comments to Hakyeon’s left. The prince is perched on the fountain’s stone edge, and Taekwoon stands there, silver tray still in his hands even though Hakyeon was done with tea some time ago.
“She was rude.” Hakyeon grumbles. The princess has disappeared from view, and Hakyeon shifts to look at his hands. He has nicks on his knuckles from the white rose bushes in the garden, and he was in the process of digging through one when he was interrupted. A message saying that the silly princess was here, to converse with him, and to have tea with her.
So, of course, Hakyeon had tea with her.
“That could’ve gone better,” Taekwoon says, once more, in his soft voice, but there’s a tinge of amusement.
“It’s not funny.” Hakyeon glares up at his personal assistant -- some (Hakyeon) would call “butler.” “I will not put up with name-calling of any sort directed your way. Should’ve dumped tea on her on as well -- I was on a roll.”
“I think what you said was enough.”
Hakyeon plucks the rose from behind his ear and looks at the full petals for a moment; it was the only one of the whole bunch to have fully bloomed. He motions for Taekwoon to come closer and pats the spot beside him. “Sit.” Taekwoon sits, and Hakyeon tucks the rose behind his ear. “There you go.”
“Happy?”
Hakyeon studies Taekwoon; dressed in his dark colors and white gloves, white flower peeking out to frame his eyes -- he’s a man of contrasting colors. He’s beautiful. Hakyeon smiles, “For now.”
“Hold me. Tighter.” Hakyeon’s breaths are rough, and he directs the young man’s hand to his hip, presses those fingers into the dip. “Harder.”
The chair creaks underneath them, and Hakyeon shifts in the lap he’s in. “Taekwoon, pay attention.”
The man’s got his chin tucked into Hakyeon’s shoulder, looking over it and at his textbook. “It’s hard to study like this.” Taekwoon’s having some sort of reaction -- Hakyeon can feel it -- but he’s resilient, being strict with himself.
“Your degree can wait,” Hakyeon breathes into his ear, taking his fingers to brush aside wavy, dark hair. Taekwoon’s left hand is still dug into his hip, and Hakyeon makes a slow grind into him. Reaction: Taekwoon stiffening considerably. “Kiss me now.”
“You’re being,” Taekwoon squeezes Hakyeon’s hip, sounding mildly distressed, “difficult.”
A gasp. “Me?”
“You.” Taekwoon now has both hands on Hakyeon’s waist. “Just give me….”
Hakyeon licks the line of Taekwoon’s jaw, and leans back so he has Taekwoon’s desk pressed into spine. He kicks his legs, letting them swing on either side of the chair, and he’s got Taekwoon’s gaze locked with his, finally away from his homework. “Please?”
It takes a long moment, but when Taekwoon’s hands slide down from his hips to his thighs -- Hakyeon can feel the rings he wears even through his pants -- he knows he’s got him. Taekwoon’s lips are soft, like they always are, a few brushes around Hakyeon’s mouth, then over his lips.
Hakyeon surges back into him, pressing Taekwoon into the chair; he fists his hands in Taekwoon’s soft t-shirt, tugs on it. Taekwoon kisses him again, still too gentle for Hakyeon’s taste. Just as Hakyeon starts to use his tongue to push past Taekwoon’s lips, there’s a knock on the door.
The door creaks open.
“Prince Hakyeon?” One of the women that tends to the queen has her head in the doorway, and Hakyeon looks up from where he’s thrown himself on the bed. “It’s curfew soon, and your mother noticed you weren’t in your room.”
Hakyeon uses his most patient smile. “Okay. I’ll go in a second.”
The lady stares at him a bit longer and finally gives up once she realizes Hakyeon won’t follow her out. Once the door shuts with a click, Hakyeon drops his head against the comforter. “I hope they realize I’m too old for a curfew; I’m in the castle grounds, aren’t I?”
Taekwoon snickers, still at his desk.
“What’s so funny?”
He shakes his head, but he’s got his lip sucked between his teeth and keeps shaking. “You could be at some party, but instead--” he tries to wipe off his smile, “--you’re in here with me.”
Hakyeon frowns and rolls onto his side to face Taekwoon. “Rather here than there; I don’t understand why that’s exactly funny.” All he can see is Taekwoon’s profile, a chunk of hair acting as a curtain to his eyes, but Hakyeon can sense the eye roll. He purses his lips.
“It is funny.” Taekwoon goes back to scribbling notes, and Hakyeon props his head up with Taekwoon’s pillow. “Are you falling asleep there or are you coming back?”
Hakyeon makes a face. “Would you like me to sit in your lap again?”
“You just seem tired.” Taekwoon flips a page in his textbook, peeking at Hakyeon from behind his bangs. “You probably need the sleep. You were up at dawn after staying awake with me last light, and I’m pretty sure you were falling asleep in your lunch.”
“Right. But you were the one to wake me up after falling asleep later than me. How are you still awake?”
Taekwoon holds up his mug.
“You are going to crash.”
“Maybe.”
Hakyeon pats the bed. “Come lay here with me, and then we both can fall asleep.” He scoots to make room. “Come on.”
Taekwoon looks interested, eyes lingering a bit on Hakyeon -- drifting from his face to his hands to lower -- and shifts focus back to his desk, lower lip bitten. He doesn’t voice the no that Hakyeon can hear. “Well, I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
Sleep takes Hakyeon in a quick fashion -- it sucks him right in after a few minutes -- and sometime in the night he wakes up to darkness. There’s darkness, but there’s also a weight beside him, a dip in the bed, and he lays back down. He smiles and tucks himself close.
Hakyeon stares at the wall. It’s the same patterned wallpaper he’s stared at every day of his life; not much about it is different. But Hakyeon loses himself like this amidst the talk of budgets and plans that don’t concern him. In a way, it all does, but no one speaks to him, no one treats him as an equal, so he extracts himself from the fuss.
He sighs.
Fiddling with the buttons at his wrist, Hakyeon thinks about how Taekwoon’s dressed now. He’s waiting back up at Hakyeon’s rooms, probably in his white button-up and wearing a tie in the shades of the royal colors. His uniform makes him look like a school boy. Hakyeon manages to suppress his chuckle. Barely.
The meeting ends and Hakyeon’s father is much too busy to keep track of his son, and he takes the chance to slip away. Hakyeon hopes Taekwoon’s wearing his gloves; those are ridiculous. He takes steps two at a time, and many stare, probably think about asking what’s the hurry, but Hakyeon has to be fast to make it in time before his next schedule. He slides into his room without much ado, and sure enough, Taekwoon is waiting.
“I thought they’d never let me go.”
Taekwoon’s hair is gelled back now that he’s on the job, and he gives Hakyeon a small smile that reflects in his whole face. “Lunch,” he brings up, and points to the table in the corner, points with a gloved hand to Hakyeon’s lunch that’s ready and waiting.
But Hakyeon doesn’t stop walking once he gets in the door. He doesn’t look at the food. He walks up to Taekwoon, grabs the hair at the back of the man’s neck, and gives him a crushing kiss, one that hurts. Taekwoon’s slim fingers grab at Hakyeon’s sides.
“You need to eat.”
Hakyeon disregards this. Taekwoon’s always mentioning what he needs -- he needs this, that, Hakyeon, please -- but what about what he wants? Hakyeon licks inside of his mouth, running his tongue on the inside of Taekwoon’s lip and has a solid grip on his jaw.
Taekwoon unwinds his fingers from the creases in Hakyeon’s suit jacket and instead slips his hands underneath and feels him through the thin material of his button-up. His fingers squeeze lightly, undoing their pressure, and then squeezing more. Hakyeon sucks in a breath.
“Sit.” Hakyeon pushes on Taekwoon. “Sit down.”
Taekwoon totters back a step but is otherwise unyielding to Hakyeon’s order. “You should eat before you--”
Rapid knocking interrupts once more. A gruff voice: “They request that you come down now. Prince Hakyeon?”
Hakyeon leans his forehead on Taekwoon’s shoulder. “They don’t need me,” he whispers. “I’m going to sit there while they talk around me. Do you know how frustrating that is?”
More knocking.
Hakyeon sighs, and he’s been separated from Taekwoon once more.
What’s worse is the never-ending lists his mother seems to procure of available women. Hakyeon’s turned down quite a few offers. The first few years he was always cordial, declining opportunities to speak to the candidates, botch the meeting in a minor way, but his mother’s attempts have become increasingly aggressive. A simple decline in offer will not get Hakyeon off, and he’s had to resort to faking illness and even dumping hot tea on himself to escape.
First-degree burns are not ideal, and Hakyeon takes care in making sure he never has to go to those lengths again, but--
Hakyeon blinks. “I don’t really get on with women.”
--sometimes less than ideal options have to be chosen.
The girl stares back at him. She’s pretty; her hair is long, put into nice curls and her face is kind enough. She sips her tea, puts the cup back down to where it clinks against the porcelain dish, and says, “Good. I don’t get on with men.” She folds her arms. “I’ll let my mother know what you said about my bloodline, and you can tell your mother I think she’s goat-faced.”
“A heated argument,” Hakyeon agrees, going along with their cover up. “Terrible it had to turn out like this.” He thinks he sees Taekwoon pinching the bridge of his nose out the corner of his eye, but he won’t bother looking. If Taekwoon isn’t then he most certainly wants to.
“The tea is good,” the girl comments, nodding. “I’m thankful for that.”
“Taekwoon can brew a great cup of tea, can’t he?”
“I feel like I’ve been dead up until this point.” She looks at Taekwoon, and Hakyeon looks at Taekwoon, and Taekwoon looks at neither of them. “Thank you for this.” She leaves only after her fourth cup.
And later: “You ran a risk earlier.”
Hakyeon fluffs his hair in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes are more prominent today, and he frowns. “Yeah, well, I risk getting married off.”
Taekwoon can’t say much to that and goes back to studying from his textbook. He’s Hakyeon’s personal assistant by day, online college student at night, and Hakyeon keeps him company in the late hours.
(Is he more of a distraction? Probably.)
“Hakyeon, I--”
“You need sleep tonight.” Hakyeon comes up behind Taekwoon’s chair and starts massaging his shoulders. His boy’s wearing another thin t-shirt, and his shoulder muscles are so detailed under his fingers; he can feel the dips and grooves, and he pushes into them, knowing they must ache.
Taekwoon leans his head back. His eyes meet Hakyeon’s at this angle, and the prince can’t help but grin down at him. “I’m trying to tell you something,” Taekwoon reminds him, gently. Gently as all things Taekwoon does.
“And,” Hakyeon swallows, “what is that?”
“Don’t do something that will get you into trouble.”
Hakyeon’s hands cease. He knows what Taekwoon means. “You’re not going to get me in trouble. I’ll get me in trouble.”
“And I can get fired, and that looks excellent for future employment.”
Hakyeon forces a smile. “You think too much.” He leans down and kisses the tip of Taekwoon’s nose. “Don’t worry.”
But it’s hard to not worry when Taekwoon holds him tight some days, behind closed doors, silly gloves still on and hair pushed back, and then wonder where it leaves them. Taekwoon will move on at some point; either move up higher in status here or seek a job elsewhere once completing his degree. Hakyeon worries.
He didn’t when Taekwoon first started. All he did was brew tea and ask Hakyeon if the room temperature was comfortable and make him ramen cups when the prince was being particularly grumpy. He fluffed pillows, held open doors -- anything but spoke more than five words to him. And that’s where Hakyeon decided to take the chance.
And he found an ear willing to listen.
Hakyeon pulls on Taekwoon and finally coaxes him out of his chair, onto Taekwoon’s own bed. It sinks with their combined weight as Taekwoon sits in the prince’s lap this time. His fingers are combing into Hakyeon’s hair; it sends tingles down his spine.
The kisses come next. Slow, soft, eager to be had -- Taekwoon is purposefully taking his time rather than giving Hakyeon what he knows he wants. His hands -- delicate looking but strong, so strong -- frame Hakyeon’s face, resting on his cheekbones. Taekwoon’s small sigh makes his chest swell.
He expects someone to fracture this moment. A rap on the door to end the moment for good, but when there is none, Hakyeon emboldens himself more and more to where he feels comfortable to put his hands under the hem of Taekwoon’s shirt, massaging just above his hips. Taekwoon curls into him, almost like a reflex, and Hakyeon makes sure to hold him close, to hold him safe.
There’s nothing to worry about.
Hakyeon and Taekwoon watch as the girl leaves the garden in a huff, throwing scowls over her shoulder. “Don’t say it.” Hakyeon sits on the fountain’s ledge, eyeing Taekwoon. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
Hakyeon has another white rose pinched between his fingers and he rolls it back and forth between his thumb and first finger. He motions for Taekwoon, and Taekwoon tucks his silver tray under his arm and wears a look that asks, “again?”
But, yes. Again.
Taekwoon walks toward Hakyeon and stands in front, knees touching knees, one standing while the other sits. The rose is raised between them, and Hakyeon says not a word. He knows that this looks like. “I’m not down on one knee,” Hakyeon chuckles, “but….”
Taekwoon’s cheeks are red. The tray shakes where he holds it, and his other hand keeps making motions to grab the rose from Hakyeon but then stilling. Hakyeon clears his throat. “If you take it, don’t crush it.”
“If I take it, I don’t think I’ll be the one to do that.”
Hakyeon smiles upward at him. He waits a moment, another, and then the rose slips from his grasp. Taekwoon tucks it behind his own ear. He’s smiling as well. “Happy?” His voice barely disturbs the air, his knees poking at Hakyeon’s -- his smile rises unbidden.
Hakyeon takes the back of Taekwoon’s hand and raises it to his lips before the other can protest. He brushes his lips against the pale skin. Eyes traveling up the length of the arm, up to Taekwoon’s crinkled eyes, he replies, “Of course.”