Peace Treaty for thesockmonster
Title: Peace Treaty
For: thesockmonster
Pairing: Kris/Kai
Rating: R for sexual situations
Length: 8k
Summary: Prince Yifan has to deal with an unauthorized act of war.
Yifan reaches for a bottle of ink, uncorking the wax cap and setting it down on his solid wooden desk with a quiet clink. He leans back and stares at the wall of shelves in front of him, considering his choices. The cubbies in front of him go from his desk to the ceiling, and all the way across the room, each hole only six inches tall and ten inches wide, each filled with a different type of neatly stacked paper.
His hand reaches for a sheet from the stack just above his unlit lamp, mulberry paper, great for decorative script, but he pauses, considering. He glances at the door for a second, a kickback to when he was younger and forbidden from touching the paper on the shelves without permission. The room was his own now, however, as was all the paper in it. Yifan smiles at the sense of possession.
He rises from his chair, an ornate piece carved with script from the Great Words written by the First Writer. Fastened to the wall on a sliding track is a ladder that gives access to the higher shelves. The gold-leafing feels cool on his hands as he grabs the rails of the ladder and climbs to the top corner of the room.
The top row of shelves has glass display case doors on them; Yifan grabs the gold handle of one and opens it slowly, breathing in deeply as he does so; even the air in the display case smells rare, expensive. He wipes his fingertips on the customary oil absorbing cloth hanging from a belt loop on the front of his royal uniform.
Reaching in slowly, he pulls out just a single sheet of the thick paper, marveling in how heavy it is compared to the standard message sending paper. This paper was said to be made from pulp from the wood of the tree at the heart of the Jungle Citadel, and it was by law only available for use by members of the royal family. Climbing carefully down the ladder, Yifan doesn't realize he’s been holding his breath until he sits back down at his desk and releases a sigh of relief. The sheet of paper sits heavily down on Yifan’s writing pad; he pushes his ink bottles a few inches farther away as a precaution.
He spends just a moment meditating on what could be monumental enough to write on paper this quality before inspiration strikes. He reaches his pen towards the ink jar, lowering the tip down slowly and precisely to the surface of the dark green ink. This ink too is a government official exclusive, made from the vines of the creepers on the Jungle Citadel, perfectly fitting for the paper in front of him. Just as the sharp point of the pen breaks the surface of the ink, there’s an urgent knock on the door.
Yifan growls and promises to himself that whoever is standing outside the door would be immediately demoted for interrupting him. He sets the pen back down on the ink stone and regrets the waste of that first drop. As he stands up from his desk, he pushes the chair back violently, hoping the person outside the door hears the screech of the legs against the floor and has time to prepare an apology for distracting Yifan from his writing.
He swings the door open and holds out a hand to a terrified looking soldier. The man’s uniform is dusty blue and the sentence written across his chest panel is short and off-center. Yifan scoffs at man’s low rank and snatches the note from his hand; at least he had gotten hold of the standard weight for messaging paper.
Yifan reads it silently, triple checking that he was reading the words correctly. There was no way. Yifan can feel the man staring in awe at his royal uniform, a creamy white made of the finest linen, the sleeves covered in tiny script from the Royal Stenographers and the royal motto on the chest panel fashionably off-center. He glances at the man and the soldier startles, realizing he had been staring.
“Where is he?” The poor soldier wilts at Yifan’s tone, and Yifan might have felt bad for being this harsh if the situation weren’t this serious.
“He’s being held at the b-barracks for the royal guard, your- your highness,” the soldier stammers. Yifan growls and marches back to his desk, leaving the door standing wide open. He snatches two forms from their respective shelves and starts filling them out, one with the red ink for Requests and one with the jet black ink for Official Orders. He finishes the forms and hastily drips wax from his lamp on to each of them, stamping them with a ring on his left hand: the Royal Seal of His Highness the crown prince of the Kingdom of Paper.
He walks back to the nervous soldier in the doorway and holds out the forms. The man takes them and looks curiously at the one with the red ink. Yifan’s handwriting isn’t more than scribbles, but his position in the royal family prevents the man from asking what it says.
“The Order form should be taken to the captain of the Guard immediately. I want the hostage brought back here to my office before fifteen minutes has passed. After you have finished that, take the Request form to the Weaver’s and get a new oil cloth. The one you have now isn’t likely to do you any good.” The soldier freezes, suddenly aware that his left hand is nervously rubbing at the dirty cloth hanging from his side. He wipes his hand on his pants instead and hesitates, wondering if he should say thank you for the new cloth, but Yifan barks out a ‘go!’ and the man goes scurrying back down the hallway.
Yifan closes the door with an almost satisfying slam before crossing the room to sit precariously at the edge of the ornate loveseat on the other side of the room. The notice the soldier had brought had said that a captive had been taken in today’s battle, and, upon further inspection, it had turned out to be the crown prince of the Jungle Citadel.
Three days after Yifan’s esteemed father His Majesty the King had left on his yearly tour of the colonies, some tree farmers on the western border had harvested past the borderline and started a skirmish with the Jungle people that caught them. Tensions were high along the western tree line anyway, and the Jungle had ruled the skirmish an authorized and premeditated act of aggression and declared war.
With his esteemed father out of the country, it fell to Yifan to initiate peace talks, but the Jungle had been completely unwilling to accept anything other than a personally delivered apology from His Majesty the King himself. The Jungle people held trees in the highest regard while the Kingdom inhabitants prioritized paper above all else, and, necessarily, the Kingdom needed the Jungle to keep paper in supply, but the two countries never agreed on how many trees could be cut on an annual basis. The current truce had only been in place for thirty years, and peace had been unstable at best.
Yifan groans; taking the crown prince hostage brought the situation from overwhelming to completely out of control. If His Majesty the King were to come home to turmoil like this, the consequences he would face would mostly be severe and highly unpleasant. Yifan grimaces as he remembers the time he spilled a drink on a stack of papers in the Council Room; he had had to work in the ink boiling room for two weeks; it had taken another four weeks for the dye stained skin on his hands to return to its normal color.
A knock at the door jolts Yifan out of his thoughts. He stands to cross the room but there's the sound of a struggle out in the hallway, and suddenly there’s a burst of shouting as the door swings open and four men come tumbling onto the carpet. Three of them are wearing the red uniforms of the Royal Guard and the one the three Guards are clearly having a hard time subduing is dressed in head-to-toe form fitting black.
The man in black kicks a Guard member as he jumps to his feet in a movement more jungle cat than human, but another Guard drags him back down to the carpet with him and his comrade. A punch is thrown and it lands on the man in black’s face before Yifan realizes that he must be the crown prince.
“Stop at once!” he shouts, and the Guards freeze. The Jungle prince however ignores him completely and uses the Guards’ lowered defenses to punch one in the gut and make for the door. He almost makes it back out before Yifan grabs him by the elbow. The Jungle prince swings around with his fist up, ready to connect his knuckles to Yifan’s jawbone when his eyes land on the script down Yifan’s sleeves and he halts. His fist is centimeters from Yifan’s face and the room is tense, the Guards too stunned to react.
“It’s good to see you have the forethought to not punch another crown prince in the face in front of his Royal Guard,” Yifan says coolly, slowly and deliberately letting go of the other man’s elbow. The Guards scramble to their feet, and the movement makes the Jungle prince turn his head. The Guards hesitate, defeated by their fear, and take a few steps back, their faces starting to turn red and purple from bruises.
“Too bad you didn’t have the forethought to not kidnap another crown prince,” the man says in a mocking tone, slightly accented to Yifan’s ears, slowly turning back to the paper prince and insolently making eye contact. He’s not that much shorter than Yifan, which is surprising. “I’m not afraid of your Guard.”
“Should we take him back to the barracks to await judgment?” one Guard offers, his tone far braver than his shaking hands.
“Absolutely not. Close the door.” Yifan walks to his desk and pulls out more forms and a bottle of blue ink: Reassignment. The Guard members swallow loudly and look nervously at each other before one of them finally edges past the Jungle prince to shut the door. The prince in black makes a threatening face and all three Guard members stare at the floor.
Yifan finishes stamping the papers and turns around to hand one to each Guard member.
“For the next three weeks, you will be working in the Boiler room as punishment. I wouldn’t bother investing in soap, your skin will be dyed either way. Dismissed.” The Guards look at the Reassignment forms in disbelief before the Jungle prince starts laughing. It’s a full, genuine laugh and Yifan throws him a dirty look as the Guards shuffle out of the room.
“Aw, that’s not nice,” the Jungle prince says humorously as the door closes again, and Yifan realizes he’s alone in a room with a prisoner of war. There were probably laws against this sort of thing, especially when said prisoner has just taken on three Guard members at once. He turns back to his desk to put away the blue ink bottle, mostly so he doesn’t have to see the bruise starting to surface on the other prince’s face. “Punishing them for carrying out orders. I didn’t know you tree-eaters were so heartless.”
“They were not authorized to kidnap you. Neither were the tree farmers authorized to harvest beyond the border. This war is a regrettable and unnecessary misunderstanding.”
“Uh-huh…” the other prince says, unbelieving as he wanders over to the desk. Yifan purses his lips and turns to face the other man. His body is lean and toned, and his movements give the air of being well practiced. The fur sash that stretches from his left shoulder to right hip is ruffled and loose, and his dark brown hair is a disaster: one of the Guard members spit in it during the fight. Yifan hadn’t noticed before, but the other’s black uniform is relatively dirty: swipes of dark soil and dustings of pollen across it, not to mention animal fur. He gives off a smell that reminds Yifan of foliage and a humid heat. All of things are horrible for the preservation of paper and therefore against everything Yifan stands for. He blinks slowly and tries not to think about it.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the crown prince of the Kingdom of Paper, Wu Yifan.” The Jungle prince sticks out his hand to shake, but Yifan keeps his hands clasped firmly behind his back, unblinking. The prince in black stares for a second before laughing and letting his hand fall.
“I forgot you tree-eaters don’t like getting your hands dirty. Kai.” Yifan is so busy bristling at the insult he almost misses the other prince’s name. Kai rolls his eyes and spots the heavy paper on the desk; Yifan had completely forgotten he had gotten it out. He mentally curses himself for being so careless with such precious paper. Kai’s gaze intensifies as he seemingly identifies the paper and reaches for it.
Yifan’s hand snaps out and he grabs Kai’s wrist. The Jungle prince has dirt under his fingernails and his skin is warm against Yifan’s palm. Kai’s eyes are wide as he looks between Yifan’s face and the hand holding his own away from the paper.
“We do not eat trees. That would be a waste of valuable wood, which can then be made into paper. Please do not touch anything.” Yifan’s tone is steady but they both know Kai hears the note of desperation in it. Prince Kai laughs and pulls his hand back, rubbing it on his fur sash to make a show of cleaning it off. Yifan edges closer to the desk to get between Kai and the paper, but ends up having to catch his wrist again as Kai makes to grab for it.
“Please. This paper is very special. It was made from the tree at the Jungle Citadel.” Kai barks out a laugh at this, and it surprises Yifan enough that the other prince is able to pull his hand free and grab the sheet of paper off the desk.
“I know it is. I live in the Citadel, it’s the birthplace of my people. You might say I have more right to touch this sheet than you do.” Yifan clenches his hands into fists but makes no move to take the paper back for fear of ripping it. Kai regards Yifan for a moment, waiting for a reaction, before giving up and setting the paper back down on the desk and making a show of adjusting the angle just so. Yifan lets out an audible breath.
“So what’s next? Gonna send a paper bird to have those Guards come take me to the boiling room to be boiled in an ink pot? Are you saving this paper so you can write on it with the only bottle of ink made from a real crown prince?” Prince Kai touches everything on the desk as he talks, his voice smooth and accented to Yifan’s ear, but Yifan knows better than to fall for his taunts.
The jungle people had no form of writing by choice; they preferred storytelling and music over reading and writing. The children of the Jungle learned word games and rhymes while the children of the Paper Kingdom studied the alphabet. It was said that in the Jungle, nothing happened that wasn’t embellished in a story five minutes later, and in the Kingdom nothing happened that wasn’t recorded in writing and signed before being sent to the Office of Documentation to be filed away. The cultural differences were staggering, and this was the main reason for the constant tension between to the two countries. Yifan knows Kai’s taunting words are just how Jungle politics works, and he struggles to remember his Foreign Etiquette textbooks as he reaches for a blank Order form off the shelves.
“If that’s my death sentence you’re writing, know that I won’t go down without a fight. You’d best be prepared to lose at least five of your Guards at my execution.” Kai’s hands are behind his back; Yifan sighs as he drips candle wax onto the form.
“It’s not a death sentence, and you might know that if you knew how to read. Put the letter opener down.” Prince Kai freezes before smiling sideways in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands come out from behind him and drop a sharpened, jeweled letter opener back onto the desk. Yifan brings his hand up to rub at his face before remembering himself and wiping his hand on the oil cloth at his belt.
“I’m giving you the hospitality of my personal rooms during your stay here. This Order is to prevent any of the guards from laying a hand on you. I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from starting any fights yourself now that you’re a guest.” Yifan had thought the Jungle prince would be thankful to stay in the Royal quarters, but Kai’s face is incredulous.
“If you’re not going to kill me send me back home?” It’s halfway between a demand and a question, and Yifan is more than a little worried he’s going to pick the letter opener back up.
“I cannot in good conscience send you back while my people are still being killed by yours. Once I figure out a reasonable solution, you will be free to go back.”
“So I’m still a prisoner.”
“Call it what you want. But keep in mind that most prisoners do not get to stay in the Royal quarters. The furniture is gilded and the bed sheets are made of the finest linen. I think you’d be hard pressed to find that kind of quality in a tree house.” Yifan’s frustration slips out in his words, but Kai just laughs.
“Was that an invitation to test out these bed sheets of yours, Yifan?” Yifan turns red and Kai blatantly reaches over to grab the letter opener and stick it in his sash. He raises his eyebrows at Yifan, daring him to try to take it back. Yifan concedes, knowing full well that even his height advantage could not help him in a fight against the Jungle man. Instead he motions politely towards the door.
“The letter opener is yours as a gift. May I show you to the Royal quarters?” Prince Kai bows mockingly before following Yifan out into the hallway.
The walk to the Royal quarters is torturously slow, Yifan thinks. Prince Kai walks smoothly beside him, rubbing his eyes in a show of complete ease and ignoring the stares of passersby with a skill Yifan can only marvel at. He’s completely out of place here among the marble columns that filter out the evening sun and the scores of people walking busily past with folders and books and message slips in their hands. The fit of his black, undecorated clothes is too revealing of his body shape, and Yifan wonders if all the Jungle people wear clothes that tight or just the Royalty.
Kai catches him staring and sends a wink in his direction. Flustered, Yifan speeds up. Kai chuckles darkly and follows suit, and they get to the doorway to Yifan’s rooms before the Jungle prince has any more opportunities to embarrass him.
The guard at the door takes Yifan’s form and reads it thoroughly, giving Kai a suspicious glance nonetheless as he steps aside to let them pass.
Yifan had not been kidding about the opulence of the rooms: everything is dark wood or gold leafing that seems to be glowing in the orange sunlight coming through the windows. His royal quarters were not more than a bedroom and a bathroom, but the room was large and filled with propped up books on display podiums and wall hangings of famous writings, and the bathroom was made from the same fine marble as the columns outside.
Prince Kai wanders around the room, touching anything within reach and pulling back the curtains to peek outside. With a face full of sunlight, he looks younger, Yifan thinks. He almost feels bad for having bragged about having nicer rooms than the Citadel could offer - of course a country as wealthy as his would have nicer amenities; it wasn’t proper to have put the other man in his place like that. Yifan considers opening his mouth to apologize when the Jungle prince walks over and motions for Yifan to lean closer.
“My rooms are nicer,” Kai whispers. Yifan jerks back and frowns but Kai just laughs and flops down backwards on the bed, looking the part of the prince lounging against the plush pillows.
“Nicer? I highly doubt a tree house could stand to compare to this.” Yifan gestures to a jeweled podium built into the wall with an open book on it. “The price of one of these manuscripts alone could buy half your land, of this I am sure.”
Kai smiles wryly before grabbing a pillow and turning around to lay on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands like a small child.
“And tell me, Your Highness, who do you think gets paid in gold when your officials want the precious paper for your manuscripts?” When Yifan says nothing, Kai laughs and continues. “For any amount of riches you have, the Jungle has three times more. We give our children jewels as playthings, so rich are we from your people’s hunger for wood.”
Kai watches with bright eyes as Yifan struggles to come up with something to say, his face turning pink. Finally, he breaks his princely demeanor and snatches the pillow from under Kai, frowning at the Jungle prince as he continues to laugh and roll on the bed.
“Ah, half the gems in the Citadel aren’t worth the look on your face right now,” Kai manages between laughter. Yifan purses his lips, his frustration increasing with every word out of the other prince’s mouth. He places the pillow back at the head of the bed and turns to bow.
“Glad to be of service, Your Highness,” Yifan says in the same mocking tone Kai had used earlier, but Kai only smiles wider.
“Oh so you do have a sense of humor? I was getting worried all you had in your brain was wood pulp, tree-eater.” The Jungle prince sits up at the edge of the bed, reaching forward to grab at Yifan’s oil absorbing cloth at his waist. The crown prince must always be seen to have a clean oil cloth, a mark of sophistication, and Yifan can only imagine the sorts of oils and dirt the Jungle man has on his hands, so he grabs Kai’s wrist before the other can touch it.
Kai looks up at him strangely before using the other hand to reach for the cloth. Yifan catches that hand too, and then Kai is standing up slowly, making no move to remove his arms from Yifan’s grip.
“Now what?” he says low, looking from Yifan’s hands to his face. Yifan suddenly feels nervous, so he clears his throat and lets go of Kai’s wrists. It suddenly feels too hot standing this close to the Jungle man; Yifan reaches down to wipe the sweat from his hands on his cloth.
Kai grabs both of Yifan’s wrists and holds them up to show him. Yifan’s face turns pale and Kai smiles knowing full well Yifan is caught in his trap.
“You’re pretty handsome… for a tree-eater…” The Jungle prince’s breath is hot on the paper prince’s jaw line as he leans closer, but Yifan can’t seem to look away from the dark, hardwood brown that is Kai’s eyes. Kai breaks eye contact when his gaze flicks down to Yifan’s lips, and the situation clicks in the taller man’s brain, sending a fresh rush of adrenaline through him. But it’s too late by then; Kai smiles for half a second before pressing his lips to Yifan’s.
Yifan is stunned, too stunned to respond to Kai’s warm lips kissing his own. Kai’s lips are soft and not unskilled, and Yifan knows he should react somehow, push him away, kiss back, anything, but instead he remains frozen.
Kai bites Yifan’s bottom lip and pulls on it slowly, opening his eyes to gauge Yifan’s reaction. When he sees that Yifan’s eyes are closed, he takes the taller man’s hands, which are still trapped by his own, and places them on his waist, still watching Yifan’s face.
Yifan, who had completely forgotten his hands were still being held, forgotten they were even still attached to his body, comes alive the second his hands touch the other prince. Kai’s body is warm and so much leaner than it had seemed through the uniform, and Yifan can feel his muscles as he grabs his waist tighter to pull him closer.
Kai starts kissing him again, and this time Yifan is kissing back, eager and aggressive and so much more enthusiastic than Kai had thought to expect from the rigid prince. Yifan’s hands start roaming, trying to press Kai closer to him at every point, and Kai brings his hands up to grab at Yifan’s arms and neck, pulling his mouth closer.
Yifan pulls back first, taking big shaking breaths as he tries to steady his breathing, but Kai wastes no time in kissing up Yifan’s face to his ear, and then back down his throat. Yifan buries his hands in Kai’s hair, and it’s soon far too hot and oppressive in the room to be wearing their uniforms.
Kai starts tugging at Yifan’s collar with one hand, the other trying to untuck the prince’s shirt from his pants. He’s inefficient, so Yifan pushes him away, and there’s a silent agreement to undress themselves. Kai strips down first, his simple black attire falling away like autumn leaves, and laughs at Yifan struggling to undo his belt and the lines of buttons across his uniform. He saunters naked and shame free into the bathroom, and by the time he comes back with a glass bottle in his hand, Yifan has almost completely rid himself of his stuffy outfit. Kai laughs and sets the bottle down on the nightstand, then helps Yifan get off the rest of his attire.
The second Yifan is free of his clothes, he growls and pushes Kai onto the bed. Surprised, Kai looks up at him, wondering where the sudden burst of dominance came from. Yifan stands there looking Kai’s body up and down, his eyes hungry and roaming with a sense of possession that puzzled the Jungle man. Kai would blush at the inspection except that Yifan was also standing stark naked in front of him and Kai had a pretty good view from his spot on the bed.
The sound of a bird’s call outside the window drags Yifan’s attention away from the bed and too the curtains Kai had left open during his exploration of the room. He walks over and closes them, taking extra care that no one would be able to see in should they think to spy on the prince today of all days.
“Don’t want your people to know what you do to your prisoners of war?” Kai taunts. Without a word, Yifan returns to the bed and straddles Kai, grabbing his mouth with his own and kissing him like it was necessary for life. Turned on by the other man’s dominance and desperation, Kai starts unconsciously moaning into Yifan’s mouth and rocking his body up into the taller man’s.
Their skin starts to get slick with sweat and the sheets on the bed are bunching and tangling around their feet. By this point, Yifan and Kai both are hard and burning with a need for more. They occasionally bump into each other as they make out, but the frustration is getting to be too much as Kai pushes Yifan off and rolls on top of him, sitting back on Yifan’s thighs.
Yifan pants and runs his hands through his hair, all sense of decorum gone with his clothes eons ago. Kai bites his lip as he catches his breath, his eyes flitting uncertainly down at Yifan’s body.
“May I…,” Kai starts, but Yifan props himself up on his elbow, grabbing Kai by the hip with his other arm to keep him steady.
“May you what?” Yifan asks, suddenly wary. Kai laughs and leans forward to trickle some of the oil from the bottle onto his palm. It smells exotic.
“You know, this massage oil is an export from the Citadel too,” Kai teases and he rubs his hands together to spread the oil.
“Shut up,” Yifan commands, but there’s no bite in his words. Instead his hand grips Kai’s hip tighter as he watches Kai’s hands, suddenly nervous. Kai leans forward on his elbows to kiss Yifan back into the pillows, trying his best not to get his oily hands on the sheets.
“It’s okay, relax,” Kai whispers as he grabs Yifan’s hands to transfer some of the oil. Yifan is still tense and unsure, so Kai pauses his mission and instead focuses on kissing Yifan and massaging his hands. Distracted, Yifan relaxes back into a lying position and lets Kai massage him.
When the heat gets too be too much again though, Yifan works one hand free to grab at Kai’s ass to pull him closer. They brush against each other again, and Yifan hisses at the contact. Kai uses his free hand to reach down between them and lightly grab Yifan, watching for his reaction.
Yifan moans and turns his head away, pushing his hips up into Kai’s hand jerkily. His own hand is squeezing Kai’s ass tighter and pushing him down onto him so that Kai is grunting too and rubbing against the back of his knuckles as he grips Yifan.
Kai puts his hand out on the sheets to steady himself and briefly regrets touching the sheets with the oil on his hands, but Yifan is twisting under him and he soon loses his train of thought. Unsure of how much longer he’s going to last like this, Kai takes his hand off of Yifan, relishing the moan the taller man makes.
He starts kissing Yifan again this time, more needy than before, making sure to coax Yifan’s tongue into his own mouth to distract himself. When Yifan has taken the bait, Kai gently guides Yifan’s hand farther down his ass and hopes the oil is enough.
After a moment hesitation, Yifan comprehends what Kai is getting stops to grab his face with his other hand. After a few more soft kisses, Yifan bites down on Kai’s lip as he starts to do what Kai asked. Yifan isn’t sure if Kai’s moan is from pain or pleasure, but redoubles his effort at distracting him as he works.
Eventually, slowly, slowly, Kai is shaking and burying his head in Yifan’s shoulders, mouthing into his skin incomprehensible requests. Yifan pulls his hand free and grabs Kai by both sides to help him sit up.
Shaking and flushed with want, Kai works to position himself above Yifan. Yifan feels like an eternity has passed by the time Kai is ready and starts carefully lowering himself down. A low moan starts up in the bottom of Kai’s chest, but neither of them really notice because the only thing Yifan can see is stars, and from the way Kai is shaking, he probably feels the same.
Kai is most of the way down when he stops and leans forward, panting. That motion is enough to set Yifan on fire, and he jerks but stills himself when Kai chokes out a gasp. Yifan growls with frustration but waits as Kai gets his eyes to focus before sitting back up onto Yifan. They establish a steady rhythm but it’s still too slow and still too much effort for Kai.
Carefully, Yifan pulls Kai off of him with a cry from the Jungle prince and turns them around.
“On your knees,” Yifan breathes out, hardly able to talk from how keyed up he is. Kai is still mumbling gibberish, and Yifan vaguely wonders if it’s his native language he’s speaking or just noises. Either way, Kai complies, resting his forehead against the upholstered headboard, all thoughts of keeping the bed neat gone from his head. Yifan scoots himself between Kai’s knees and lines up, rubbing Kai’s back as he leans forward.
Kai lets out a full volume moan when Yifan is in, but this time there’s not hint of tears in his voice. Yifan experimentally thrusts a few times, but Kai is immediately pushing himself back against Yifan’s body and digging his nails into the sheets. Relieved, Yifan starts with vigor, his hands roaming mindlessly up and down Kai’s legs as he holds the Jungle prince against himself, enjoying Kai’s uninhibited moans. He’s sure the guard outside the door can hear them, but the thought excites him more and he turns his body slightly to get a loader response from Kai.
Kai shouts and arms buckle, falling down onto his elbows face first in the pillows. Yifan continues but the new angle seems to be causing Kai more pain than before, so he helps him back up onto his hands and kisses his back.
He speeds up, and brings his hand around to help Kai, almost forgotten in the frenzy. Kai squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head down to hang between his shoulders, now pushing frantically back against Yifan, moaning and begging for Yifan to please, please just, just anything…
Yifan twists his body slightly again and Kai lets out a shout and comes. His muscles tighten and Yifan grunts as he comes too, pressing his face into Kai’s back and gasping as they struggle to come back to consciousness.
Shakily, Yifan let’s go of Kai and pulls himself out, moaning from the overstimulation. Kai is spluttering and rolling to the edge of the bed, grasping for something. When he sits up again, his eyes are squinted shut and he has Yifan’s oil absorbing cloth in his hand. Yifan takes a second before realizing that when he had come, the angle had been so that Kai had come onto his own face.
Yifan starts laughing, trying to hold it in but failing miserably. Kai kicks him and goes to bring the the cloth to his face when Yifan stops him.
“What!” Kai complains, struggling to talk without getting it in his mouth.
“You picked up my… it’s nothing…” Yifan struggles, trying
“Really?” Kai says in disbelief, motioning to his face. Yifan laughs again and concedes, instead taking the cloth and wiping Kai’s face for him. He cleans him up as best as he can, then reaches around him to the night stand and grabs a few more from the drawer. Together, they clean themselves off before Yifan kisses Kai’s whole body, lulling him into sleep.
When Kai is snoring lightly, Yifan gathers the sheets from the floor and arranges them on top of the two of them, wrapping his arm around Kai’s waist and falling asleep watching him breathe.
*****
Kai wakes up in the morning when the light through the curtains hits him in the eye. He was so sure he had seen Yifan close them last night, and yet…
He tries to bury his face in the sheets to block out the light, but the finely woven linen that Yifan was so proud of may as well have been spider silk for all the light it was letting through. Kai groans and turns his head to hide his eyes behind Yifan’s sleeping body, but he’s met with an empty bed and a royal attendant standing patiently by the nightstand.
Kai startles and sits up, scrambling to make sure the sheets are covering his waist. The attendant seems oblivious but he knows better from his own attendants at the Citadel that servants talk, and he would not like the days gossip to be about him. He clears his throat and struggles to see through his sleep wasted eyes.
“Good morning, Your Highness. Crown Prince Yifan has left express instructions that you dress and meet him in the courtroom upon waking. Your clothes have been washed and pressed. Ordinarily, you would be required to sign an Order form confirming you have heard and will follow through on His Highness’ instruction, but His Highness has asked that I instead get verbal confirmation from you. Do you understand?”
“Huh? Uh… sure,” Kai blinks at the man, trying to get a hold of his surroundings and the attendant’s crisp, overly formal words.
“Would you like help dressing?” The attendant motions to a folded bundle of black clothes and his sash sitting on a chair across the room. Kai rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and waves the man away.
When the man leaves, he stumbles into the bathroom and washes himself hastily in the basin. His legs are sore beyond belief and it takes him a second to place why. Memories flood back and his face turns red as he quickly dries off and goes to dress.
His clothes were probably cleaner than they had ever been, and a familiar smell on them that reminds him of Yifan makes him wonder if they had redyed the black while he slept too. Regardless, he puts them on and hooks the sash across himself, lazily fixing his hair in the mirror in the bathroom.
Dressed but unsure of how to find his way to the courtroom, he sticks his head experimentally out the door and into the hallway, searching for the guard from yesterday. Instead, the attendant from earlier steps out from behind a column and motions for Kai to follow.
The walk to the palace courtroom is uneventful, the early afternoon sun hot on Kai’s black sleeves. His uniform had definitely been dyed again, he decides, breathing in the smell of the fabric and wondering how long it will last.
The attendant hands a sheet of paper to the guard at the courtroom door, and then he and Kai are allowed to pass. They enter the courtroom, a circular room with an open roof and seating lining the walls. In the center of the room were four people kneeling and bowing their heads, all facing the throne.
Kai’s breath catches when he sees him, clean and impeccably styled for court, looking regal in every sense of the word. Yifan’s eyes are trained on the man speaking from the floor, listening to their testimony, his face unreadable. Kai tries to edge against the wall to keep a low profile, but the attendant instead leads him up to throne, much to Kai’s dismay. Court was hardly an enjoyable chore at home; it could only be worse in the court of the perfectionist paper people.
Yifan turns his head when the attendant bows and hands him a note, presumably announcing Kai’s arrival. Kai tries to give him a smile, but Yifan meets his eyes without a hint of recognition, instead turning back to the people kneeling on the floor. Struck, Kai stands awkwardly by the throne, feeling horribly out of place and vaguely betrayed.
“Rise,” Yifan commands the four people, clearly farmers by their clothes. “If you are willing to do penitence for your crimes, your punishment will be less severe. Standing before you is His Highness, the crown prince of the Jungle Citadel himself, and you will apologize for breaking the treaty that his people have so generously offered us.”
Kai turns to Yifan in bewilderment as the farmers cower and whisper to each other about having to speak directly to the prince of the Jungle. Kai wants to catch Yifan’s eye, but the prince giving a steady stare down to the farmers, effectively scaring them into an apology.
“Oh great prince of the trees,” one farmer starts shakily. The man was unaccustomed to formal speech and Kai pitied him. The war seemed so far removed standing here looking down upon some shaking farmers. Kai turned from Yifan and trained his full attention on the man speaking and his family members behind him. His gaze caused them all to flinch but the man speaking took a deep breath and persevered. “We know that our crime is unforgiveable and has caused many battles. We are at your mercy.”
And with that, the farmer threw himself down on the ground, and his family followed suit, wailing. The theatrics were a little much for the Jungle prince, but he had had enough practice in court to keep from laughing outright at their imagined strife.
“The crown prince of the Jungle hears your apology and accepts. I will defer judgment to your rightful prince.” Kai turns to Yifan, expecting, hoping for some sign of approval, but Yifan’s remains facing forward, watching the farmers cry upon each other on the ground.
“Enough. Rise. My judgement is this. You will be spared, but you and your family will move to the capitol and work as papermakers. The land your farm occupies will be given to the Jungle as a peace offering, if His Highness accepts.”
“I accept these terms on behalf of the Jungle Citadel,” Kai says robotically, wishing the trial could be over so he could talk to Yifan. The farmers start crying again, lauding Kai as the kindest and greatest Jungle prince to ever walk the planet. Yifan waves a hand and the farmers are removed from the court room.
A member of the Royal Guard trots over to the throne, and Yifan hands him a rolled sheet of paper. As the Guard unfurls it, Yifan says his orders out loud for Kai’s benefit.
“His Highness, the crown prince of the Jungle Citadel, shall be given a full escort of Royal Guard and returned immediately to the Citadel.” So saying, Yifan stands up to leave, and the Guard walks over to Kai to lead him out the door.
“That’s it? You’re just gonna send me back without saying anything?” The taller man turns around slowly, finally meeting Kai’s eyes, but his face is one hundred percent crown prince, not the Yifan Kai spent the night with.
“An envoy will be sent shortly to finalize the peace agreement,” the paper prince says, his words formal and rehearsed. Kai feels anger welling up inside of him at being used and then thrown aside to further the paper kingdom’s political agenda.
“An envoy? Are you kidding me right now, Yifan? Was this the plan all along? Kidnap the prince and fuck him until he agrees to sign a peace treaty?” Kai is shouting and the Guard looks uncomfortable, so Yifan gestures for him to leave them.
The Guard leaves as quickly as his legs will allow him, and Yifan steps forward, hands clasped behind his back.
“I did not think you would be opposed to what was practically a surrender. The tree farm I gave you is one of our biggest producers of wood, your people will be happy to have it back. I would be willing to give more land when we meet for the peace talks if that is what it will take.” Yifan’s words are cool and business like, and Kai can feel his hands tightening into fists, wanting to punch the calm look straight off the other prince’s face.
“You think I’m talking about the war right now? You think I give a single damn about your stupid tree farm?” Kai’s arms are up, gesturing as he yells. Yifan is pretty sure the Guards eavesdropping at the door are having a field day, so he grabs both of Kai’s arms and holds him forcefully still.
“I don’t think you’re listening to what I’m saying. As the one who initiated the reinstatement of the treaty, I’ll have to be the one to come continue the talks at the Citadel.” Kai struggles still, trying to break away from the taller man, but Yifan has a smile on his face, clearly amused and waiting for something.
“I never want to see you again! I don’t care if you come to the Jungle… oh.” Realization dawns on Kai and Yifan’s grin gets wider. “You… set that up so you could have an excuse to come visit the Citadel…” Kai’s face gets red as he realizes his misunderstanding and for once, Yifan laughs first.
He takes his hands off from around Kai’s wrists and holds his hands instead, stepping closer and leaning his forehead against the Jungle prince.
“What do you think? Pretty crafty, right? Do you think I’ll fit in in the Jungle?”
“Your name is too hard to pronounce. If you come to the Jungle, you’ll need one that’s easier for my people to say.”
Kai says against Yifan’s mouth. Yifan laughs and nods lightly in agreement.
“I suppose you’re right. But you have to give me a name befitting of my rank,” Yifan warns, his mockingly authoritative. Kai rubs his thumb across Yifan’s knuckles for a second as he thinks, before giving Yifan a mischievous smile and a peck on the lips.
“How about Kris?”
For: thesockmonster
Pairing: Kris/Kai
Rating: R for sexual situations
Length: 8k
Summary: Prince Yifan has to deal with an unauthorized act of war.
Yifan reaches for a bottle of ink, uncorking the wax cap and setting it down on his solid wooden desk with a quiet clink. He leans back and stares at the wall of shelves in front of him, considering his choices. The cubbies in front of him go from his desk to the ceiling, and all the way across the room, each hole only six inches tall and ten inches wide, each filled with a different type of neatly stacked paper.
His hand reaches for a sheet from the stack just above his unlit lamp, mulberry paper, great for decorative script, but he pauses, considering. He glances at the door for a second, a kickback to when he was younger and forbidden from touching the paper on the shelves without permission. The room was his own now, however, as was all the paper in it. Yifan smiles at the sense of possession.
He rises from his chair, an ornate piece carved with script from the Great Words written by the First Writer. Fastened to the wall on a sliding track is a ladder that gives access to the higher shelves. The gold-leafing feels cool on his hands as he grabs the rails of the ladder and climbs to the top corner of the room.
The top row of shelves has glass display case doors on them; Yifan grabs the gold handle of one and opens it slowly, breathing in deeply as he does so; even the air in the display case smells rare, expensive. He wipes his fingertips on the customary oil absorbing cloth hanging from a belt loop on the front of his royal uniform.
Reaching in slowly, he pulls out just a single sheet of the thick paper, marveling in how heavy it is compared to the standard message sending paper. This paper was said to be made from pulp from the wood of the tree at the heart of the Jungle Citadel, and it was by law only available for use by members of the royal family. Climbing carefully down the ladder, Yifan doesn't realize he’s been holding his breath until he sits back down at his desk and releases a sigh of relief. The sheet of paper sits heavily down on Yifan’s writing pad; he pushes his ink bottles a few inches farther away as a precaution.
He spends just a moment meditating on what could be monumental enough to write on paper this quality before inspiration strikes. He reaches his pen towards the ink jar, lowering the tip down slowly and precisely to the surface of the dark green ink. This ink too is a government official exclusive, made from the vines of the creepers on the Jungle Citadel, perfectly fitting for the paper in front of him. Just as the sharp point of the pen breaks the surface of the ink, there’s an urgent knock on the door.
Yifan growls and promises to himself that whoever is standing outside the door would be immediately demoted for interrupting him. He sets the pen back down on the ink stone and regrets the waste of that first drop. As he stands up from his desk, he pushes the chair back violently, hoping the person outside the door hears the screech of the legs against the floor and has time to prepare an apology for distracting Yifan from his writing.
He swings the door open and holds out a hand to a terrified looking soldier. The man’s uniform is dusty blue and the sentence written across his chest panel is short and off-center. Yifan scoffs at man’s low rank and snatches the note from his hand; at least he had gotten hold of the standard weight for messaging paper.
Yifan reads it silently, triple checking that he was reading the words correctly. There was no way. Yifan can feel the man staring in awe at his royal uniform, a creamy white made of the finest linen, the sleeves covered in tiny script from the Royal Stenographers and the royal motto on the chest panel fashionably off-center. He glances at the man and the soldier startles, realizing he had been staring.
“Where is he?” The poor soldier wilts at Yifan’s tone, and Yifan might have felt bad for being this harsh if the situation weren’t this serious.
“He’s being held at the b-barracks for the royal guard, your- your highness,” the soldier stammers. Yifan growls and marches back to his desk, leaving the door standing wide open. He snatches two forms from their respective shelves and starts filling them out, one with the red ink for Requests and one with the jet black ink for Official Orders. He finishes the forms and hastily drips wax from his lamp on to each of them, stamping them with a ring on his left hand: the Royal Seal of His Highness the crown prince of the Kingdom of Paper.
He walks back to the nervous soldier in the doorway and holds out the forms. The man takes them and looks curiously at the one with the red ink. Yifan’s handwriting isn’t more than scribbles, but his position in the royal family prevents the man from asking what it says.
“The Order form should be taken to the captain of the Guard immediately. I want the hostage brought back here to my office before fifteen minutes has passed. After you have finished that, take the Request form to the Weaver’s and get a new oil cloth. The one you have now isn’t likely to do you any good.” The soldier freezes, suddenly aware that his left hand is nervously rubbing at the dirty cloth hanging from his side. He wipes his hand on his pants instead and hesitates, wondering if he should say thank you for the new cloth, but Yifan barks out a ‘go!’ and the man goes scurrying back down the hallway.
Yifan closes the door with an almost satisfying slam before crossing the room to sit precariously at the edge of the ornate loveseat on the other side of the room. The notice the soldier had brought had said that a captive had been taken in today’s battle, and, upon further inspection, it had turned out to be the crown prince of the Jungle Citadel.
Three days after Yifan’s esteemed father His Majesty the King had left on his yearly tour of the colonies, some tree farmers on the western border had harvested past the borderline and started a skirmish with the Jungle people that caught them. Tensions were high along the western tree line anyway, and the Jungle had ruled the skirmish an authorized and premeditated act of aggression and declared war.
With his esteemed father out of the country, it fell to Yifan to initiate peace talks, but the Jungle had been completely unwilling to accept anything other than a personally delivered apology from His Majesty the King himself. The Jungle people held trees in the highest regard while the Kingdom inhabitants prioritized paper above all else, and, necessarily, the Kingdom needed the Jungle to keep paper in supply, but the two countries never agreed on how many trees could be cut on an annual basis. The current truce had only been in place for thirty years, and peace had been unstable at best.
Yifan groans; taking the crown prince hostage brought the situation from overwhelming to completely out of control. If His Majesty the King were to come home to turmoil like this, the consequences he would face would mostly be severe and highly unpleasant. Yifan grimaces as he remembers the time he spilled a drink on a stack of papers in the Council Room; he had had to work in the ink boiling room for two weeks; it had taken another four weeks for the dye stained skin on his hands to return to its normal color.
A knock at the door jolts Yifan out of his thoughts. He stands to cross the room but there's the sound of a struggle out in the hallway, and suddenly there’s a burst of shouting as the door swings open and four men come tumbling onto the carpet. Three of them are wearing the red uniforms of the Royal Guard and the one the three Guards are clearly having a hard time subduing is dressed in head-to-toe form fitting black.
The man in black kicks a Guard member as he jumps to his feet in a movement more jungle cat than human, but another Guard drags him back down to the carpet with him and his comrade. A punch is thrown and it lands on the man in black’s face before Yifan realizes that he must be the crown prince.
“Stop at once!” he shouts, and the Guards freeze. The Jungle prince however ignores him completely and uses the Guards’ lowered defenses to punch one in the gut and make for the door. He almost makes it back out before Yifan grabs him by the elbow. The Jungle prince swings around with his fist up, ready to connect his knuckles to Yifan’s jawbone when his eyes land on the script down Yifan’s sleeves and he halts. His fist is centimeters from Yifan’s face and the room is tense, the Guards too stunned to react.
“It’s good to see you have the forethought to not punch another crown prince in the face in front of his Royal Guard,” Yifan says coolly, slowly and deliberately letting go of the other man’s elbow. The Guards scramble to their feet, and the movement makes the Jungle prince turn his head. The Guards hesitate, defeated by their fear, and take a few steps back, their faces starting to turn red and purple from bruises.
“Too bad you didn’t have the forethought to not kidnap another crown prince,” the man says in a mocking tone, slightly accented to Yifan’s ears, slowly turning back to the paper prince and insolently making eye contact. He’s not that much shorter than Yifan, which is surprising. “I’m not afraid of your Guard.”
“Should we take him back to the barracks to await judgment?” one Guard offers, his tone far braver than his shaking hands.
“Absolutely not. Close the door.” Yifan walks to his desk and pulls out more forms and a bottle of blue ink: Reassignment. The Guard members swallow loudly and look nervously at each other before one of them finally edges past the Jungle prince to shut the door. The prince in black makes a threatening face and all three Guard members stare at the floor.
Yifan finishes stamping the papers and turns around to hand one to each Guard member.
“For the next three weeks, you will be working in the Boiler room as punishment. I wouldn’t bother investing in soap, your skin will be dyed either way. Dismissed.” The Guards look at the Reassignment forms in disbelief before the Jungle prince starts laughing. It’s a full, genuine laugh and Yifan throws him a dirty look as the Guards shuffle out of the room.
“Aw, that’s not nice,” the Jungle prince says humorously as the door closes again, and Yifan realizes he’s alone in a room with a prisoner of war. There were probably laws against this sort of thing, especially when said prisoner has just taken on three Guard members at once. He turns back to his desk to put away the blue ink bottle, mostly so he doesn’t have to see the bruise starting to surface on the other prince’s face. “Punishing them for carrying out orders. I didn’t know you tree-eaters were so heartless.”
“They were not authorized to kidnap you. Neither were the tree farmers authorized to harvest beyond the border. This war is a regrettable and unnecessary misunderstanding.”
“Uh-huh…” the other prince says, unbelieving as he wanders over to the desk. Yifan purses his lips and turns to face the other man. His body is lean and toned, and his movements give the air of being well practiced. The fur sash that stretches from his left shoulder to right hip is ruffled and loose, and his dark brown hair is a disaster: one of the Guard members spit in it during the fight. Yifan hadn’t noticed before, but the other’s black uniform is relatively dirty: swipes of dark soil and dustings of pollen across it, not to mention animal fur. He gives off a smell that reminds Yifan of foliage and a humid heat. All of things are horrible for the preservation of paper and therefore against everything Yifan stands for. He blinks slowly and tries not to think about it.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the crown prince of the Kingdom of Paper, Wu Yifan.” The Jungle prince sticks out his hand to shake, but Yifan keeps his hands clasped firmly behind his back, unblinking. The prince in black stares for a second before laughing and letting his hand fall.
“I forgot you tree-eaters don’t like getting your hands dirty. Kai.” Yifan is so busy bristling at the insult he almost misses the other prince’s name. Kai rolls his eyes and spots the heavy paper on the desk; Yifan had completely forgotten he had gotten it out. He mentally curses himself for being so careless with such precious paper. Kai’s gaze intensifies as he seemingly identifies the paper and reaches for it.
Yifan’s hand snaps out and he grabs Kai’s wrist. The Jungle prince has dirt under his fingernails and his skin is warm against Yifan’s palm. Kai’s eyes are wide as he looks between Yifan’s face and the hand holding his own away from the paper.
“We do not eat trees. That would be a waste of valuable wood, which can then be made into paper. Please do not touch anything.” Yifan’s tone is steady but they both know Kai hears the note of desperation in it. Prince Kai laughs and pulls his hand back, rubbing it on his fur sash to make a show of cleaning it off. Yifan edges closer to the desk to get between Kai and the paper, but ends up having to catch his wrist again as Kai makes to grab for it.
“Please. This paper is very special. It was made from the tree at the Jungle Citadel.” Kai barks out a laugh at this, and it surprises Yifan enough that the other prince is able to pull his hand free and grab the sheet of paper off the desk.
“I know it is. I live in the Citadel, it’s the birthplace of my people. You might say I have more right to touch this sheet than you do.” Yifan clenches his hands into fists but makes no move to take the paper back for fear of ripping it. Kai regards Yifan for a moment, waiting for a reaction, before giving up and setting the paper back down on the desk and making a show of adjusting the angle just so. Yifan lets out an audible breath.
“So what’s next? Gonna send a paper bird to have those Guards come take me to the boiling room to be boiled in an ink pot? Are you saving this paper so you can write on it with the only bottle of ink made from a real crown prince?” Prince Kai touches everything on the desk as he talks, his voice smooth and accented to Yifan’s ear, but Yifan knows better than to fall for his taunts.
The jungle people had no form of writing by choice; they preferred storytelling and music over reading and writing. The children of the Jungle learned word games and rhymes while the children of the Paper Kingdom studied the alphabet. It was said that in the Jungle, nothing happened that wasn’t embellished in a story five minutes later, and in the Kingdom nothing happened that wasn’t recorded in writing and signed before being sent to the Office of Documentation to be filed away. The cultural differences were staggering, and this was the main reason for the constant tension between to the two countries. Yifan knows Kai’s taunting words are just how Jungle politics works, and he struggles to remember his Foreign Etiquette textbooks as he reaches for a blank Order form off the shelves.
“If that’s my death sentence you’re writing, know that I won’t go down without a fight. You’d best be prepared to lose at least five of your Guards at my execution.” Kai’s hands are behind his back; Yifan sighs as he drips candle wax onto the form.
“It’s not a death sentence, and you might know that if you knew how to read. Put the letter opener down.” Prince Kai freezes before smiling sideways in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands come out from behind him and drop a sharpened, jeweled letter opener back onto the desk. Yifan brings his hand up to rub at his face before remembering himself and wiping his hand on the oil cloth at his belt.
“I’m giving you the hospitality of my personal rooms during your stay here. This Order is to prevent any of the guards from laying a hand on you. I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from starting any fights yourself now that you’re a guest.” Yifan had thought the Jungle prince would be thankful to stay in the Royal quarters, but Kai’s face is incredulous.
“If you’re not going to kill me send me back home?” It’s halfway between a demand and a question, and Yifan is more than a little worried he’s going to pick the letter opener back up.
“I cannot in good conscience send you back while my people are still being killed by yours. Once I figure out a reasonable solution, you will be free to go back.”
“So I’m still a prisoner.”
“Call it what you want. But keep in mind that most prisoners do not get to stay in the Royal quarters. The furniture is gilded and the bed sheets are made of the finest linen. I think you’d be hard pressed to find that kind of quality in a tree house.” Yifan’s frustration slips out in his words, but Kai just laughs.
“Was that an invitation to test out these bed sheets of yours, Yifan?” Yifan turns red and Kai blatantly reaches over to grab the letter opener and stick it in his sash. He raises his eyebrows at Yifan, daring him to try to take it back. Yifan concedes, knowing full well that even his height advantage could not help him in a fight against the Jungle man. Instead he motions politely towards the door.
“The letter opener is yours as a gift. May I show you to the Royal quarters?” Prince Kai bows mockingly before following Yifan out into the hallway.
The walk to the Royal quarters is torturously slow, Yifan thinks. Prince Kai walks smoothly beside him, rubbing his eyes in a show of complete ease and ignoring the stares of passersby with a skill Yifan can only marvel at. He’s completely out of place here among the marble columns that filter out the evening sun and the scores of people walking busily past with folders and books and message slips in their hands. The fit of his black, undecorated clothes is too revealing of his body shape, and Yifan wonders if all the Jungle people wear clothes that tight or just the Royalty.
Kai catches him staring and sends a wink in his direction. Flustered, Yifan speeds up. Kai chuckles darkly and follows suit, and they get to the doorway to Yifan’s rooms before the Jungle prince has any more opportunities to embarrass him.
The guard at the door takes Yifan’s form and reads it thoroughly, giving Kai a suspicious glance nonetheless as he steps aside to let them pass.
Yifan had not been kidding about the opulence of the rooms: everything is dark wood or gold leafing that seems to be glowing in the orange sunlight coming through the windows. His royal quarters were not more than a bedroom and a bathroom, but the room was large and filled with propped up books on display podiums and wall hangings of famous writings, and the bathroom was made from the same fine marble as the columns outside.
Prince Kai wanders around the room, touching anything within reach and pulling back the curtains to peek outside. With a face full of sunlight, he looks younger, Yifan thinks. He almost feels bad for having bragged about having nicer rooms than the Citadel could offer - of course a country as wealthy as his would have nicer amenities; it wasn’t proper to have put the other man in his place like that. Yifan considers opening his mouth to apologize when the Jungle prince walks over and motions for Yifan to lean closer.
“My rooms are nicer,” Kai whispers. Yifan jerks back and frowns but Kai just laughs and flops down backwards on the bed, looking the part of the prince lounging against the plush pillows.
“Nicer? I highly doubt a tree house could stand to compare to this.” Yifan gestures to a jeweled podium built into the wall with an open book on it. “The price of one of these manuscripts alone could buy half your land, of this I am sure.”
Kai smiles wryly before grabbing a pillow and turning around to lay on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands like a small child.
“And tell me, Your Highness, who do you think gets paid in gold when your officials want the precious paper for your manuscripts?” When Yifan says nothing, Kai laughs and continues. “For any amount of riches you have, the Jungle has three times more. We give our children jewels as playthings, so rich are we from your people’s hunger for wood.”
Kai watches with bright eyes as Yifan struggles to come up with something to say, his face turning pink. Finally, he breaks his princely demeanor and snatches the pillow from under Kai, frowning at the Jungle prince as he continues to laugh and roll on the bed.
“Ah, half the gems in the Citadel aren’t worth the look on your face right now,” Kai manages between laughter. Yifan purses his lips, his frustration increasing with every word out of the other prince’s mouth. He places the pillow back at the head of the bed and turns to bow.
“Glad to be of service, Your Highness,” Yifan says in the same mocking tone Kai had used earlier, but Kai only smiles wider.
“Oh so you do have a sense of humor? I was getting worried all you had in your brain was wood pulp, tree-eater.” The Jungle prince sits up at the edge of the bed, reaching forward to grab at Yifan’s oil absorbing cloth at his waist. The crown prince must always be seen to have a clean oil cloth, a mark of sophistication, and Yifan can only imagine the sorts of oils and dirt the Jungle man has on his hands, so he grabs Kai’s wrist before the other can touch it.
Kai looks up at him strangely before using the other hand to reach for the cloth. Yifan catches that hand too, and then Kai is standing up slowly, making no move to remove his arms from Yifan’s grip.
“Now what?” he says low, looking from Yifan’s hands to his face. Yifan suddenly feels nervous, so he clears his throat and lets go of Kai’s wrists. It suddenly feels too hot standing this close to the Jungle man; Yifan reaches down to wipe the sweat from his hands on his cloth.
Kai grabs both of Yifan’s wrists and holds them up to show him. Yifan’s face turns pale and Kai smiles knowing full well Yifan is caught in his trap.
“You’re pretty handsome… for a tree-eater…” The Jungle prince’s breath is hot on the paper prince’s jaw line as he leans closer, but Yifan can’t seem to look away from the dark, hardwood brown that is Kai’s eyes. Kai breaks eye contact when his gaze flicks down to Yifan’s lips, and the situation clicks in the taller man’s brain, sending a fresh rush of adrenaline through him. But it’s too late by then; Kai smiles for half a second before pressing his lips to Yifan’s.
Yifan is stunned, too stunned to respond to Kai’s warm lips kissing his own. Kai’s lips are soft and not unskilled, and Yifan knows he should react somehow, push him away, kiss back, anything, but instead he remains frozen.
Kai bites Yifan’s bottom lip and pulls on it slowly, opening his eyes to gauge Yifan’s reaction. When he sees that Yifan’s eyes are closed, he takes the taller man’s hands, which are still trapped by his own, and places them on his waist, still watching Yifan’s face.
Yifan, who had completely forgotten his hands were still being held, forgotten they were even still attached to his body, comes alive the second his hands touch the other prince. Kai’s body is warm and so much leaner than it had seemed through the uniform, and Yifan can feel his muscles as he grabs his waist tighter to pull him closer.
Kai starts kissing him again, and this time Yifan is kissing back, eager and aggressive and so much more enthusiastic than Kai had thought to expect from the rigid prince. Yifan’s hands start roaming, trying to press Kai closer to him at every point, and Kai brings his hands up to grab at Yifan’s arms and neck, pulling his mouth closer.
Yifan pulls back first, taking big shaking breaths as he tries to steady his breathing, but Kai wastes no time in kissing up Yifan’s face to his ear, and then back down his throat. Yifan buries his hands in Kai’s hair, and it’s soon far too hot and oppressive in the room to be wearing their uniforms.
Kai starts tugging at Yifan’s collar with one hand, the other trying to untuck the prince’s shirt from his pants. He’s inefficient, so Yifan pushes him away, and there’s a silent agreement to undress themselves. Kai strips down first, his simple black attire falling away like autumn leaves, and laughs at Yifan struggling to undo his belt and the lines of buttons across his uniform. He saunters naked and shame free into the bathroom, and by the time he comes back with a glass bottle in his hand, Yifan has almost completely rid himself of his stuffy outfit. Kai laughs and sets the bottle down on the nightstand, then helps Yifan get off the rest of his attire.
The second Yifan is free of his clothes, he growls and pushes Kai onto the bed. Surprised, Kai looks up at him, wondering where the sudden burst of dominance came from. Yifan stands there looking Kai’s body up and down, his eyes hungry and roaming with a sense of possession that puzzled the Jungle man. Kai would blush at the inspection except that Yifan was also standing stark naked in front of him and Kai had a pretty good view from his spot on the bed.
The sound of a bird’s call outside the window drags Yifan’s attention away from the bed and too the curtains Kai had left open during his exploration of the room. He walks over and closes them, taking extra care that no one would be able to see in should they think to spy on the prince today of all days.
“Don’t want your people to know what you do to your prisoners of war?” Kai taunts. Without a word, Yifan returns to the bed and straddles Kai, grabbing his mouth with his own and kissing him like it was necessary for life. Turned on by the other man’s dominance and desperation, Kai starts unconsciously moaning into Yifan’s mouth and rocking his body up into the taller man’s.
Their skin starts to get slick with sweat and the sheets on the bed are bunching and tangling around their feet. By this point, Yifan and Kai both are hard and burning with a need for more. They occasionally bump into each other as they make out, but the frustration is getting to be too much as Kai pushes Yifan off and rolls on top of him, sitting back on Yifan’s thighs.
Yifan pants and runs his hands through his hair, all sense of decorum gone with his clothes eons ago. Kai bites his lip as he catches his breath, his eyes flitting uncertainly down at Yifan’s body.
“May I…,” Kai starts, but Yifan props himself up on his elbow, grabbing Kai by the hip with his other arm to keep him steady.
“May you what?” Yifan asks, suddenly wary. Kai laughs and leans forward to trickle some of the oil from the bottle onto his palm. It smells exotic.
“You know, this massage oil is an export from the Citadel too,” Kai teases and he rubs his hands together to spread the oil.
“Shut up,” Yifan commands, but there’s no bite in his words. Instead his hand grips Kai’s hip tighter as he watches Kai’s hands, suddenly nervous. Kai leans forward on his elbows to kiss Yifan back into the pillows, trying his best not to get his oily hands on the sheets.
“It’s okay, relax,” Kai whispers as he grabs Yifan’s hands to transfer some of the oil. Yifan is still tense and unsure, so Kai pauses his mission and instead focuses on kissing Yifan and massaging his hands. Distracted, Yifan relaxes back into a lying position and lets Kai massage him.
When the heat gets too be too much again though, Yifan works one hand free to grab at Kai’s ass to pull him closer. They brush against each other again, and Yifan hisses at the contact. Kai uses his free hand to reach down between them and lightly grab Yifan, watching for his reaction.
Yifan moans and turns his head away, pushing his hips up into Kai’s hand jerkily. His own hand is squeezing Kai’s ass tighter and pushing him down onto him so that Kai is grunting too and rubbing against the back of his knuckles as he grips Yifan.
Kai puts his hand out on the sheets to steady himself and briefly regrets touching the sheets with the oil on his hands, but Yifan is twisting under him and he soon loses his train of thought. Unsure of how much longer he’s going to last like this, Kai takes his hand off of Yifan, relishing the moan the taller man makes.
He starts kissing Yifan again this time, more needy than before, making sure to coax Yifan’s tongue into his own mouth to distract himself. When Yifan has taken the bait, Kai gently guides Yifan’s hand farther down his ass and hopes the oil is enough.
After a moment hesitation, Yifan comprehends what Kai is getting stops to grab his face with his other hand. After a few more soft kisses, Yifan bites down on Kai’s lip as he starts to do what Kai asked. Yifan isn’t sure if Kai’s moan is from pain or pleasure, but redoubles his effort at distracting him as he works.
Eventually, slowly, slowly, Kai is shaking and burying his head in Yifan’s shoulders, mouthing into his skin incomprehensible requests. Yifan pulls his hand free and grabs Kai by both sides to help him sit up.
Shaking and flushed with want, Kai works to position himself above Yifan. Yifan feels like an eternity has passed by the time Kai is ready and starts carefully lowering himself down. A low moan starts up in the bottom of Kai’s chest, but neither of them really notice because the only thing Yifan can see is stars, and from the way Kai is shaking, he probably feels the same.
Kai is most of the way down when he stops and leans forward, panting. That motion is enough to set Yifan on fire, and he jerks but stills himself when Kai chokes out a gasp. Yifan growls with frustration but waits as Kai gets his eyes to focus before sitting back up onto Yifan. They establish a steady rhythm but it’s still too slow and still too much effort for Kai.
Carefully, Yifan pulls Kai off of him with a cry from the Jungle prince and turns them around.
“On your knees,” Yifan breathes out, hardly able to talk from how keyed up he is. Kai is still mumbling gibberish, and Yifan vaguely wonders if it’s his native language he’s speaking or just noises. Either way, Kai complies, resting his forehead against the upholstered headboard, all thoughts of keeping the bed neat gone from his head. Yifan scoots himself between Kai’s knees and lines up, rubbing Kai’s back as he leans forward.
Kai lets out a full volume moan when Yifan is in, but this time there’s not hint of tears in his voice. Yifan experimentally thrusts a few times, but Kai is immediately pushing himself back against Yifan’s body and digging his nails into the sheets. Relieved, Yifan starts with vigor, his hands roaming mindlessly up and down Kai’s legs as he holds the Jungle prince against himself, enjoying Kai’s uninhibited moans. He’s sure the guard outside the door can hear them, but the thought excites him more and he turns his body slightly to get a loader response from Kai.
Kai shouts and arms buckle, falling down onto his elbows face first in the pillows. Yifan continues but the new angle seems to be causing Kai more pain than before, so he helps him back up onto his hands and kisses his back.
He speeds up, and brings his hand around to help Kai, almost forgotten in the frenzy. Kai squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head down to hang between his shoulders, now pushing frantically back against Yifan, moaning and begging for Yifan to please, please just, just anything…
Yifan twists his body slightly again and Kai lets out a shout and comes. His muscles tighten and Yifan grunts as he comes too, pressing his face into Kai’s back and gasping as they struggle to come back to consciousness.
Shakily, Yifan let’s go of Kai and pulls himself out, moaning from the overstimulation. Kai is spluttering and rolling to the edge of the bed, grasping for something. When he sits up again, his eyes are squinted shut and he has Yifan’s oil absorbing cloth in his hand. Yifan takes a second before realizing that when he had come, the angle had been so that Kai had come onto his own face.
Yifan starts laughing, trying to hold it in but failing miserably. Kai kicks him and goes to bring the the cloth to his face when Yifan stops him.
“What!” Kai complains, struggling to talk without getting it in his mouth.
“You picked up my… it’s nothing…” Yifan struggles, trying
“Really?” Kai says in disbelief, motioning to his face. Yifan laughs again and concedes, instead taking the cloth and wiping Kai’s face for him. He cleans him up as best as he can, then reaches around him to the night stand and grabs a few more from the drawer. Together, they clean themselves off before Yifan kisses Kai’s whole body, lulling him into sleep.
When Kai is snoring lightly, Yifan gathers the sheets from the floor and arranges them on top of the two of them, wrapping his arm around Kai’s waist and falling asleep watching him breathe.
*****
Kai wakes up in the morning when the light through the curtains hits him in the eye. He was so sure he had seen Yifan close them last night, and yet…
He tries to bury his face in the sheets to block out the light, but the finely woven linen that Yifan was so proud of may as well have been spider silk for all the light it was letting through. Kai groans and turns his head to hide his eyes behind Yifan’s sleeping body, but he’s met with an empty bed and a royal attendant standing patiently by the nightstand.
Kai startles and sits up, scrambling to make sure the sheets are covering his waist. The attendant seems oblivious but he knows better from his own attendants at the Citadel that servants talk, and he would not like the days gossip to be about him. He clears his throat and struggles to see through his sleep wasted eyes.
“Good morning, Your Highness. Crown Prince Yifan has left express instructions that you dress and meet him in the courtroom upon waking. Your clothes have been washed and pressed. Ordinarily, you would be required to sign an Order form confirming you have heard and will follow through on His Highness’ instruction, but His Highness has asked that I instead get verbal confirmation from you. Do you understand?”
“Huh? Uh… sure,” Kai blinks at the man, trying to get a hold of his surroundings and the attendant’s crisp, overly formal words.
“Would you like help dressing?” The attendant motions to a folded bundle of black clothes and his sash sitting on a chair across the room. Kai rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and waves the man away.
When the man leaves, he stumbles into the bathroom and washes himself hastily in the basin. His legs are sore beyond belief and it takes him a second to place why. Memories flood back and his face turns red as he quickly dries off and goes to dress.
His clothes were probably cleaner than they had ever been, and a familiar smell on them that reminds him of Yifan makes him wonder if they had redyed the black while he slept too. Regardless, he puts them on and hooks the sash across himself, lazily fixing his hair in the mirror in the bathroom.
Dressed but unsure of how to find his way to the courtroom, he sticks his head experimentally out the door and into the hallway, searching for the guard from yesterday. Instead, the attendant from earlier steps out from behind a column and motions for Kai to follow.
The walk to the palace courtroom is uneventful, the early afternoon sun hot on Kai’s black sleeves. His uniform had definitely been dyed again, he decides, breathing in the smell of the fabric and wondering how long it will last.
The attendant hands a sheet of paper to the guard at the courtroom door, and then he and Kai are allowed to pass. They enter the courtroom, a circular room with an open roof and seating lining the walls. In the center of the room were four people kneeling and bowing their heads, all facing the throne.
Kai’s breath catches when he sees him, clean and impeccably styled for court, looking regal in every sense of the word. Yifan’s eyes are trained on the man speaking from the floor, listening to their testimony, his face unreadable. Kai tries to edge against the wall to keep a low profile, but the attendant instead leads him up to throne, much to Kai’s dismay. Court was hardly an enjoyable chore at home; it could only be worse in the court of the perfectionist paper people.
Yifan turns his head when the attendant bows and hands him a note, presumably announcing Kai’s arrival. Kai tries to give him a smile, but Yifan meets his eyes without a hint of recognition, instead turning back to the people kneeling on the floor. Struck, Kai stands awkwardly by the throne, feeling horribly out of place and vaguely betrayed.
“Rise,” Yifan commands the four people, clearly farmers by their clothes. “If you are willing to do penitence for your crimes, your punishment will be less severe. Standing before you is His Highness, the crown prince of the Jungle Citadel himself, and you will apologize for breaking the treaty that his people have so generously offered us.”
Kai turns to Yifan in bewilderment as the farmers cower and whisper to each other about having to speak directly to the prince of the Jungle. Kai wants to catch Yifan’s eye, but the prince giving a steady stare down to the farmers, effectively scaring them into an apology.
“Oh great prince of the trees,” one farmer starts shakily. The man was unaccustomed to formal speech and Kai pitied him. The war seemed so far removed standing here looking down upon some shaking farmers. Kai turned from Yifan and trained his full attention on the man speaking and his family members behind him. His gaze caused them all to flinch but the man speaking took a deep breath and persevered. “We know that our crime is unforgiveable and has caused many battles. We are at your mercy.”
And with that, the farmer threw himself down on the ground, and his family followed suit, wailing. The theatrics were a little much for the Jungle prince, but he had had enough practice in court to keep from laughing outright at their imagined strife.
“The crown prince of the Jungle hears your apology and accepts. I will defer judgment to your rightful prince.” Kai turns to Yifan, expecting, hoping for some sign of approval, but Yifan’s remains facing forward, watching the farmers cry upon each other on the ground.
“Enough. Rise. My judgement is this. You will be spared, but you and your family will move to the capitol and work as papermakers. The land your farm occupies will be given to the Jungle as a peace offering, if His Highness accepts.”
“I accept these terms on behalf of the Jungle Citadel,” Kai says robotically, wishing the trial could be over so he could talk to Yifan. The farmers start crying again, lauding Kai as the kindest and greatest Jungle prince to ever walk the planet. Yifan waves a hand and the farmers are removed from the court room.
A member of the Royal Guard trots over to the throne, and Yifan hands him a rolled sheet of paper. As the Guard unfurls it, Yifan says his orders out loud for Kai’s benefit.
“His Highness, the crown prince of the Jungle Citadel, shall be given a full escort of Royal Guard and returned immediately to the Citadel.” So saying, Yifan stands up to leave, and the Guard walks over to Kai to lead him out the door.
“That’s it? You’re just gonna send me back without saying anything?” The taller man turns around slowly, finally meeting Kai’s eyes, but his face is one hundred percent crown prince, not the Yifan Kai spent the night with.
“An envoy will be sent shortly to finalize the peace agreement,” the paper prince says, his words formal and rehearsed. Kai feels anger welling up inside of him at being used and then thrown aside to further the paper kingdom’s political agenda.
“An envoy? Are you kidding me right now, Yifan? Was this the plan all along? Kidnap the prince and fuck him until he agrees to sign a peace treaty?” Kai is shouting and the Guard looks uncomfortable, so Yifan gestures for him to leave them.
The Guard leaves as quickly as his legs will allow him, and Yifan steps forward, hands clasped behind his back.
“I did not think you would be opposed to what was practically a surrender. The tree farm I gave you is one of our biggest producers of wood, your people will be happy to have it back. I would be willing to give more land when we meet for the peace talks if that is what it will take.” Yifan’s words are cool and business like, and Kai can feel his hands tightening into fists, wanting to punch the calm look straight off the other prince’s face.
“You think I’m talking about the war right now? You think I give a single damn about your stupid tree farm?” Kai’s arms are up, gesturing as he yells. Yifan is pretty sure the Guards eavesdropping at the door are having a field day, so he grabs both of Kai’s arms and holds him forcefully still.
“I don’t think you’re listening to what I’m saying. As the one who initiated the reinstatement of the treaty, I’ll have to be the one to come continue the talks at the Citadel.” Kai struggles still, trying to break away from the taller man, but Yifan has a smile on his face, clearly amused and waiting for something.
“I never want to see you again! I don’t care if you come to the Jungle… oh.” Realization dawns on Kai and Yifan’s grin gets wider. “You… set that up so you could have an excuse to come visit the Citadel…” Kai’s face gets red as he realizes his misunderstanding and for once, Yifan laughs first.
He takes his hands off from around Kai’s wrists and holds his hands instead, stepping closer and leaning his forehead against the Jungle prince.
“What do you think? Pretty crafty, right? Do you think I’ll fit in in the Jungle?”
“Your name is too hard to pronounce. If you come to the Jungle, you’ll need one that’s easier for my people to say.”
Kai says against Yifan’s mouth. Yifan laughs and nods lightly in agreement.
“I suppose you’re right. But you have to give me a name befitting of my rank,” Yifan warns, his mockingly authoritative. Kai rubs his thumb across Yifan’s knuckles for a second as he thinks, before giving Yifan a mischievous smile and a peck on the lips.
“How about Kris?”