Summary:

Barbarians invade the Northern Castle and King Jimin finds himself face to face with their leader, Taehyung.

Or: Jimin has a very stressful day and desperately needs some relief.

___

Today has been a very stressful day for His Royal Highness, King Jimin.

First, he had woken up too late and had nearly missed his training with his best warrior, Namjoon. Then, during said training, he felt a distinct lack of trying on Namjoon's part. As though Namjoon was letting him win each sparring match which hurt his ego more than if he had lost. But he hadn't had much time to admonish Namjoon because, after a quick clean up, he was whisked away to meeting after meeting with his lords and his advisors, who all had something they wanted him to get done right this instant. One lord wanted to raise taxes, another wanted to conquer more land for resources, a particularly annoying one snidely asked when he would choose a wife and sire an heir; the only one that he really paid attention to was the advisor that warned him that they must soon take action against the barbarians knocking at their borders.

His lords were transparent in their attempt at manipulating him into their figurehead and their lack of grace in their underhandedness put a sour taste in Jimin's mouth. As though, just because he had been crowned only a few short years ago and had yet to reach the age of twenty-five, he was gullible like his weak-willed father. Or, worse, impulsive like his older brother, killed in a hunting accident just weeks before his coronation.

The barbarians hadn't done that much to the nobility, just raided some smaller villages and took their winter crop. Still any slight towards even his most lowly citizen was a slight against the crown, so he ordered for further protection on their borders and for extra rations to be distributed to the impoverished villages. Happy peasants meant less uprisings, which meant less stress on his neck. That's something he learnt from his father, the king before him, who had been deposed after his incompetence lead to a famine that depleted a good number of their population and greatly angered the rest.

It was a relief for the day to end and for him to enjoy supper by himself in his room. Not entirely alone, for he always had his servants and guards near him at all times, but alone from the stuffiness of his pompous nobles. But Jimin needed something more than just a good meal in privacy.

"I'm going to my sister's chambers," he said to only his most trusted servant after he finished his supper and had his bath. "There's a list of instructions on my desk."

"Of course, your highness," the servant said. Jimin liked this servant: he had kind eyes and a capable hand. Willing to do what most others would balk at and wonderfully open-minded.

His sister's chambers were empty, had been ever since she had married a high ranking noble and moved into his estate a few years ago. But still Jimin found comfort in his sister's things. Most especially, her closet and the clothes that filled it. It was something of an open secret among the two siblings, that Jimin loved the dresses that his sister hated. Jimin didn't fear his sister telling anyone about this secret; only two people, besides himself, knew of it and the consequences of this getting let out was far more trouble than it was worth. Jimin had dirt on his sister that could ruin her a hundred times over if she ever stepped out of line and the other -- well, they got to enjoy seeing Jimin in a dress as much as Jimin enjoyed wearing one.

Now, Jimin was truly alone. His guards were under the impression that Jimin was in his own chambers and his servants had all retired for the evening. Jimin undressed, shedding his sleeping clothes and letting them pile on the floor. Standing naked, he perused his sister's clothes, his fingers brushing against the soft silk, catching on the gold embroidery. Such finery to waste without his sister to wear them. It was only right that they found a home on his body.

He had to dress himself but by now he knew all the steps, having gone through them by himself plenty of times and also had memories of his mother getting dressed when he was a small child. He started with the underwear, of which there were many layers. First, a small thin thing that just barely covered his manhood, then a short skirt of similar thinness. Over that, there was the first set of pants, tied tightly around the waist to give the illusion of a more curved waist. It was a detail that would soon be covered with more layers but the feeling of having this cinched waist made him feel more feminine, more fitting for this role he wanted to play. He skipped over a chest band, not having any breasts that needed support, and continued to the first top.

Now was when things got more complicated. There was another layer of pants and top to give the final dress more fullness in the skirt. After that, a skirt that covered it all, more colourful than the rest of the garments, but still not yet the final layer. By now Jimin was sweating slightly, warm from the many layers but also from the feeling of putting on his persona. When he managed to get the last layer on himself, he was filled with a sense of pride -- he had managed to do it all by himself, without someone handing it to him.

This feeling of pride continued when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Jimin was not the type to get overcome with the beauty of women but looking at himself he could see why so many men found themselves enamoured with them. The dress hid away most of his body but he knew what lay underneath it: the hard muscles covered in soft skin, his distinct lack of breasts, his manhood under the final thin layer. There was something invigorating about it, knowing that he was the only one who knew that behind this image of a high born woman there was a man. With his high cheekbones and soft skin, his hair as long as any woman's, one could easily mistake him for one. The thought made his cheeks warm, not needing any rouge to give them a healthy flush.

He grabbed a comb from the vanity and began passing it through his long locks. It was as smooth as silk, soon completely detangled. At its full length, it reached the small of his back. He loved the length of his hair but it was bothersome. He tied it back into a young maiden's braid, letting the weight of it hang over one shoulder. Jimin traced the contours of his face with his fingertips, letting them linger on his lips. He always had such full lips, pink at the centre and fading out into the paleness of his skin -- often they had been described as akin to flower petals. With a careful hand, he painted his lips to match the heat on his chest. Even more carefully, he darkened his eyes and eyebrows with kohl, until he looked less like a high born woman and more like the concubine that had often warmed his father's bed.

There wasn't much else to be done. He was in no mood to put on one of the headdresses or to challenge himself into doing something more elaborate with his hair. It was just a matter of waiting now.

He allowed himself a small twirl in front of the mirror, his skirt fanning out around him. He giggled, small and personal, flushed with innocent happiness. That was when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him, the heavy breathing of an intruder. Jimin froze, facing the mirror. He was no longer alone in its reflection.

The man behind him wore clothing that allowed him to melt into the dark of night. He was tall, his feet booted, a sword in its sheath at his hips. Handsome, with his thick eyebrows and high bridged nose. His skin was clear except for a handful of moles and held remnants of the sun. He looked to be Jimin's complete opposite, especially as they stood now: Jimin, pale and prettied, this man, exuding masculinity.

"What are you doing here?" Jimin asked; without much thought, his voice took on a softer tone, trying to replicate the voice of a woman. "Who are you? I'll call the guards."

The man tilted his head, looking him up and down. Despite all the layers on him, Jimin felt naked, like this man could see through them all to his skin and even further to his thumping heart. Jimin still had his back to the man. The man spoke, "There's no need, sweet lady. I was just looking for the king."

His voice was deep, soothing in a way that belied his appearance and the implications of his words. Jimin swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. This man didn't know he was the king he was searching for -- he should keep up that illusion until he was able to get away, shouldn't he?

The man stepped closer, each step echoing in the room, until he was just behind Jimin and could see himself in the reflection too. The heat of his body could be felt even through the layers of his dress. Jimin shook, watching with rapt attention as the man brushed a finger over his shoulder; it burned as though he had dropped hot wax onto his bare skin.

"Lovely lady," the man murmured, "you're trembling. Are you scared?"

Jimin couldn't trust himself to speak. He pursed his pink mouth and shook his head slightly.

"Really? Then what are you feeling? Tell me."

Jimin remained silent, his hands gripping his skirt. The man's breath was warm against his skin, adding to the heat of the moment. Jimin knew what he was feeling but it was shameful to say out loud. It wasn't befitting of a king. Wasn't befitting any man, no matter their standing in society.

"It's okay, lovely," the man said, his hand slipping from Jimin's shoulder to his fists; they completely covered his, enveloping them with his warmth. Jimin let go of his skirt, the man's fingers replacing the silk. "I know what you need."

"I'm not --" Jimin started but stopped at the way the man raised his brow. His heart beat in his ears. This man thought he was a woman and he knew how men treated the women they were enamoured with.

"Not what? Speak up, pretty lady."

Jimin looked down at his skirt, the colour as vibrant as the colour painted on his cheeks. Tears pricked at his eyes, shame clouding his vision. He couldn't take in a full breath.

"I'm not -- I'm not a lady."

The silence after this statement was pregnant with tension. The man stood back, turned Jimin around to face him. Jimin held his breath. The man was even more handsome up close, without the distortions of the mirror. Handsome in a way that made him almost pretty, with thick lashes framing his dark eyes, his lips pink and spit slick. He looked deep into Jimin's eyes, the dark colour not reflecting too much feeling besides some curiosity.

"What are you then?"

Jimin licked his lips. "I'm," he said then paused, trying again, in too quiet a voice: "I am the king."

The man stares at him for a moment more before throwing his head back and laughing. Even his laugh is pitched low and it is fuelled with derision, disbelief.

"You?" he said. "Lovely, you are not even close to a man, let alone a king. I ask you again: where is the king?"

The heat under Jimin's skin has taken on a different sort of edge. It's not just shame coursing through his veins now but also frustration. He's a man, he's the king. He was not some feeble woman. For the sake of his manhood, should he not try and prove that so? He stepped back, away from the man, until the only point of contact between them was their joined hands. He held his head up high and squared his shoulders, like he was taught by his tutors.

In a clearer voice, Jimin repeated, "I am the king. I'm not a woman."

The man's lip curled, his dark eyes glittering. "Really? Because I don't see a king," he said, once more stepping closer until he was looking down at Jimin. "I see a woman -- a pretty and fragile thing. No king would have hands as smooth as yours, sweet."

The danger in his voice does something strange to Jimin's stomach. Like his voice was warm syrup, dripping down his throat, filling him up with liquid heat. It made his knees weak. He tightened his hold on the man's hand unconsciously, his palms sweaty. The man was right, his hands were far smoother than most trained with swords should be; he was always sure to moisturise to his skin, to shed the tough skin until his palms were smooth and unmarked. Hands that were ladylike rather than kingly.

"There's no chance you're a king," the man continued, "but you might be a queen. What a way you hold yourself, lovely. Such pride."

Jimin huffed, straightening his back further, "I told you. I'm not a woman. I'm not a queen. I'm the king of this nation."

The man hummed, now clearly amused. His eyes danced with it, like polished coal reflecting flame. "I find it hard to believe you," he said. He took a step forward so Jimin took a step back. "You see, no king would allow this to happen," he continued. "No king would allow themselves to be so vulnerable."

Another step forward, another step back.

"No man would look so delicate. So pretty, so beautiful."

Jimin's back hit the vanity. No where left for him to go.

"But you insist on not being the queen. We all know the king has never had one. So, what are you?"

The man had him pressed against the vanity, his arms caging his body and preventing any escape. Sweat was beading at Jimin's temple, his chest heaving as he tried hard to take in breath. His body was a hard line against the softness of his silks, surely able to feel the interest of Jimin's body. Or maybe there were too many layers between them -- Jimin certainly felt so, his body so hot that he wanted to rip his clothes off right this instant.

The man leaned in, his nose brushing against Jimin's smaller one, his breath on Jimin's lips; his eyes held something of a question. Jimin nodded minutely.

"Are you a whore, Jimin?" he asked, kindly, like he was spelling out the answer for him. "The way you look -- there's nothing else you can be, is there? Tell me, Jimin, what are you, if not a queen?"

"I -- I'm," Jimin stammered. He felt hypnotised by the man's dark eyes, unable to think clearly beyond the need for relief from the heat burning under his skin. His forehead was pressed against his, a point of contact that felt electric. He swallowed down a hard stone. His lips were so close.

"Go on," those lips commanded, an authority ringing to them that had Jimin shivering.

"I'm a whore," he whispered through trembling lips. "Please, Taehyung, I'm a whore, I want -- please, kiss me, Taetae --"

The word 'please' drove the man, Taehyung, to action. He claimed Jimin's with his own, with such force that their teeth clicked together. That was partially Jimin's fault as he also pulled Taehyung down to him, his hands gripping his robes like they were the only real thing in the room. Taehyung wrapped his arms around him, lifting him slightly so that the vanity was under his buttocks and he was between Jimin's thighs. He wasn't close enough. Definitely not close enough, not even with his tongue in Jimin's mouth and their chests pressed together.

"I want --" Jimin panted, pulling at Taehyung's clothes, "Please, I want more."

Taehyung grabbed his hands, pinning them to the vanity by his thighs. He smiled meanly as Jimin struggled against his grip, an edge that didn't match his kiss swollen lips. "You're a whore, you said," he murmured. "Shouldn't you be doing what I want?"

Jimin froze, cheeks blazing, before he started nodding his head furiously. "Yes, yes," he said. "Tell me, please -- I'll do whatever you want, just please."

Taehyung let go of one his hands. Jimin kept it on the vanity, looking into Taehyung's eyes as he traced the side of his face, his touch gentle but his fingers rough. A man's touch, hard-working. His fingers found their way to Jimin's hair, following the bumps of his braid until he reached the cord tying it all together. He undid it, letting Jimin's hair unravel and fall in front of his face.

"I want you on your knees, sweet," Taehyung said. "I want your petal lips on a real man's cock."

Jimin couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped his lips then. All he could do was swallow down the excess saliva suddenly filling his mouth and slip off the vanity. He kneeled, much like he would in front of an altar, but instead of looking up at a shrine, he was looking up at Taehyung. The candlelight made his skin glow, like he was dipped in gold. He was beautiful, magnificent -- most importantly, he wanted Jimin, as evidenced by the clothed hardness in front of Jimin's face.

With sure fingers, Taehyung undid the sword belt around his waist and let it, along with the sheathed sword, fall to the floor with a clatter. Next, he undid the fastenings of his trousers and pulled out his cock. It was not entirely hard, still malleable under his fingers. Clearly had more room to grow and it was already an impressive length, a thickness to it that begged to stretch out Jimin's mouth. Saliva gathered in his mouth again but this time he did not swallow. His mouth parted, the corners of his lips getting wet.

Taehyung wiped away a line of drool with his thumb, letting the digit rest against Jimin's plush lower lip. "Such a pretty mouth," he said as Jimin automatically began suckling at his thumb, barely any thoughts in his mind. "But, sweet, that isn't my cock. Come now, you must've done this before. Surely those petal lips have kissed a thousand cocks."

Jimin shook his head, shuffling closer to Taehyung until the scent of his arousal was tantalisingly close. "Just you," he said. "Only you."

"Then kiss me, lovely."

So Jimin does. He started with the head, wrapped in foreskin like a gift. He tongued at the edge of the excess skin and then felt it get pulled back as Taehyung slowly rubbed himself. Jimin chased it until the entire head was in his mouth, resting against his tongue, his teeth hidden under his thick lips. He looked up at Taehyung, saw the desire in his heaving chest and burning eyes and felt fire burning across his own chest. Underneath his skirts, unbeknownst to Taehyung, his cock strained against the thin underwear.

"Use your hands too."

Jimin had forgotten. His hands, which had been gripping his skirt in a death grip, loosened and replaced Taehyung's hand around his cock. The skin was hot under his palm, hard but getting harder as Jimin swirled his tongue over the tip, but the grip was dry. He looked up again when he felt a hand on his hair, pulling it away from his face. Taehyung's handsome face gave him some resolve. He pulled away from the tip, a string of saliva connecting them, before kissing up and down the length, getting it wet and ready. He met his fingers and wet them too, rubbing the saliva into the golden skin of his cock.

Taehyung's fingers tightened around his hair, sharp pinpricks of pain on his scalp. "Hurry, sweet," he said lowly, his voice rough with want. "Don't let me get impatient."

Jimin put his mouth back on the tip and let the taste of it coat his lips before slipping it inside of his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down the length, letting it bump against the back of his throat until he gagged and had to pull off to catch his breath. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes, drool running down his chin, his knees aching against the hard floor. He was uncomfortable pressed against the vanity like this but he didn't care for that -- not when Taehyung caressed his cheek, thumb gently wiping his tears away.

"You look so pretty like this. You make such a pretty picture, Jimin-ah, on your knees for me," he said as Jimin swallowed him down again. Taehyung tightened his grip on Jimin's hair so that he had to keep his head still as Taehyung thrusted shallowly into his willing mouth. Jimin moaned at that, his entire body thrumming with renewed energy with each sweet and filthy word that came out of Taehyung's mouth.

At this point, Jimin stopped being a very active participant in this act, letting Taehyung use his mouth as he wished. All he could do was remember to breathe through his nose as Taehyung's cock repeatedly found a home in his throat. He felt used and dirty, brought to such a low position, one that, as king, he should never be in -- and he loved it. It was a relief to be able to let go, to not care about decorum and what he should be doing, and instead let someone use him as they saw fit. To not make any decisions and just be at their mercy.

Jimin could feel Taehyung was close to coming apart and was eager for his taste to coat his tongue but Taehyung slowed to a stop, letting his cock fall out of his mouth and stopping Jimin from chasing after it by pulling his head back. His cock was now fully hard, sticking straight out and red and soaked in Jimin's saliva. Jimin squirmed, his thighs pressing together as he breathed hard.

"Taetae, let me," he said, his tongue slow and his lips numb from abuse, "Let me make you -- please, I can --"

"I want you to see yourself first, lovely," Taehyung said. He smoothed Jimin's hair away from his face, so gently. "You really are such a sight."

Taehyung pulled Jimin to his feet, holding him close when Jimin’s shaky legs nearly failed him. Taehyung’s cock slid against the silk of Jimin’s skirt and he gasped at the feeling, his grip near bruising. He turned Jimin around to face the mirror and Jimin felt his cheeks flush even further when he took in his appearance. His face was pink and the colour reached down to his chest, visible only because his top had been pushed around during their tryst. His lips were so swollen he would think a bee had stung them. He didn’t look like a high born lady anymore, instead he looked as he felt: like a whore.

"Aren't you a pretty girl, Jimin-ah?" Taehyung whispered, his hand going to the fastenings of Jimin's outer skirts. Jimin watched with bated breath as his long fingers expertly undid the knots, as the outer skirt fell to the floor with a soft whoosh. There were still so many layers to go. With shaking hands, Jimin reached up to undo the fastenings of his top too, anything to get him out of his clothes faster, but Taehyung stopped him. His voice took on a harder edge.

"I asked you a question, Jimin. You're a pretty girl, right?"

Jimin sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He couldn't say it out loud.

"Come on, Jimin. Say yes or I won't be able to treat you like one."

Another layer of his skirts fell away, leaving Jimin in the pants before the rest of his underthings. Now, he could feel more than just the heat of Taehyung's body. Taehyung's attraction was pressed against the small of his back, like a promise but one that could be taken away. Jimin's body ached with want, a want that he didn't know how to properly vocalise without completely debasing himself.

Taehyung's hands were around his waist now, just touching and, frustratingly, not undoing any more knots. He was waiting for Jimin to give the go ahead.

"Taehyung, please," Jimin said, his voice small. The hands around his waist squeezed.

"Go on, lovely."

Jimin covered his face with his palms, his tears and blush sticking to them. Taehyung's hands moved to encircle his wrists, pulling them away from his face and to his own mouth. The kisses he left on Jimin's fingertips were featherlight but lingered even after he moved on to kissing Jimin's palm. Jimin opened his eyes to see Taehyung looking at him through the mirror's reflection: his eyes held a question again.

"I'm -- pretty. Pretty girl, just for you," Jimin answered, mumbled with a gasp, as Taehyung moved on to kissing the inside of Jimin's wrist. "Please, Taehyung -- take me. I want you, I need you. Please."

"I got you, I got you," Taehyung murmured as he undid the knot around Jimin's waist and pulled the pants down, letting Jimin remove his tops himself and expose his chest. Now Jimin was in just his most underthings, so thin they were almost translucent, while Taehyung was still fully clothed apart from his exposed manhood.

Taehyung ran his hands from Jimin's shoulders to the small of his waist and then around to touch his flat chest, reverent and careful, like Jimin would break if he pressed too hard. He seemed so lost for a moment, upon seeing all of Jimin's smooth shivering skin, that it was only when Jimin let out a soft whimper that he came back to himself and his role.

“You want me to take you, pretty? Right here, in front of this mirror, so you can see yourself on my cock?” Taehyung said, his voice so deep Jimin felt its bass hit him in his tightly wound core.

Jimin nodded dumbly, shivering from having so much of his skin exposed. The fabric of Taehyung’s robes brushed against his sensitive skin, a jolt to his senses every time. He grabbed Taehyung’s hand around his waist and dragged it underneath his underthings until Taehyung was able to touch the soft skin of his inner thighs.

”Impatient, are we? Do you want me in your cunt that badly?”

Jimin shuddered at that, his voice pitching into a whine as Taehyung’s fingers dragged along the skin behind his scrotum, so close and yet so far. Jimin’s cock ached to be touched, his backside already wanting, but Taehyung was cruel in his attention to detail.

”Please, Tae...” Jimin said, his eyes fluttering shut as Taehyung pressed down on his perineum. “I want you inside my cunt...so deep I feel it for days.”

Taehyung pushed Jimin’s upper body down, until Jimin was face to face with his reflection and he had to rest his body weight on his palms, then pushed apart his legs with one booted foot. Jimin’s breath fogged up the mirror but it was still enough to see his wrecked expression when Taehyung’s fingers moved to massage his opening, only to find that the ring of muscle easily gave way for the intrusion.

Taehyung tutted and said, “You really are a whore, aren’t you? Already loose and wet for me. Did someone take you before you got all dressed up for me, pretty? Was it one man or twenty? You take my fingers so well, I can’t tell.”

Jimin’s face heated up at Taehyung’s words, shame coursing through his veins when his cock twitched in response. His arms shook, unable to take his weight as he leaned forward to rest against his forearms instead. The change in position made him arch his back, a curve that Taehyung seemed to appreciate from the way his hand settled on his back to deepen it even further.

”No one else,” Jimin protested, “Only a whore for you, I promise, I swear.”

Taehyung was already thrusting in a second digit. He was prepared to take on Taehyung’s cock but it wasn’t because another man had stretched him out -- he had done so himself, earlier that evening when he had bathed, unbeknownst to his servants. He had pretended that the heat on his face had been from the warm bath water but he was certain that at least one of them had known. Had he imagined this when he had oiled up his fingers and put them inside himself? Certainly something like this, Taehyung’s tall frame towering over him, his hard cock pressed against his buttocks.

“That’s good, Jimin,” Taehyung murmured. “You’re only like this for me. No other man gets to see you like this, right? No one knows about the whore stealing the princess’s dresses.”

Jimin moaned as Taehyung’s fingers, now three, reached places he could never reach himself, until he was shaking, eyes rolling back with pleasure, but still unable to completely fall apart with his own cock untouched. It wasn’t enough just to be filled with Taehyung’s fingers -- he needed to be filled with his very being as well.

"Just you, just you," Jimin babbled, so desperate for Taehyung that he felt wild with it. "Take me, fuck me, please," he begged, the crude words the only ones able to express his need.

”Alright, your highness,” Taehyung chuckled; somehow, Jimin could tell that the title wasn’t said with respect but with mockery. It made him bow his head, cheeks scarlet, pressing his forehead against the wood of the vanity. At the same time, his heart sang, for now he would get what he's wanted all day.

Behind him, Taehyung rubbed himself back to full hardness, using only the leftover spit from Jimin’s mouth and his own dripping attraction as lubricant. Jimin couldn’t see him, not with his head bowed, but he felt Taehyung tap the head of his cock against the cloth over his opening, teasing as Jimin groaned. Pulling aside Jimin’s underwear and, with the same hand, grabbing one of his buttocks, Taehyung exposed him, cool air making Jimin shiver in anticipation.

”Come on,” Jimin said, brushing back his hair from where it was sticking to his face and wriggling to try and get Taehyung closer, impatience making him brave. “Take me like you said you would.”

”Of course, your highness,” Taehyung said and Jimin cursed again.

Jimin could hear Taehyung fumbling with something behind him but he did not turn to look, smelling the clean scent of oil. When Taehyung finally entered him, his cock was slick and went in easy. He went slowly at first, letting Jimin get used to the new thickness, but Jimin could feel the tension building up inside of Taehyung, just waiting to be let out. Taehyung’s hands moved on to grip his small waist, pulling him closer until Jimin could feel Taehyung’s hips pressed against him.

There wasn’t any accurate way to describe how having Taehyung’s full length inside him felt. It was a curious mix of pleasure and pain, three fingers nothing compared to the width of Taehyung’s cock but the stretch and feeling of him inside was enough to counteract it. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply, eyes closed as he got used to the sensation. His hair stuck to the sweat on his back until Taehyung grabbed a handful of it and pulled, forcing him to face his reflection.

"Look at yourself," Taehyung hissed and Jimin did so but he could hardly recognise himself: the make up he had so carefully applied was now streaked down his red cheeks, the rouge on his lips all over his chin. Any regality he might have possessed had been stripped of him, as easily as his skirts had ended up on the floor.

"You called yourself a king, do you remember, pretty?" Taehyung asked, starting to rock back and forth slowly. Jimin turned his eyes to look at Taehyung in the reflection and found him already staring, his dark eyes piercing Jimin down to his very core. Jimin whimpered at the reminder, feeling foolish for having even considered he could say that when he felt so right in this position.

"A king," Taehyung scoffed, "when you're so much more useful like this."

Taehyung's hand moved from his buttocks to his knee, lifting it onto the vanity so that Jimin was spread open in a way that made him thankful he was so flexible. In this position his cock was pressed between the wood and his belly, fully awakened and eager to finally gain some sort of relief. As Taehyung moved forward again, he hit his core at such an angle that a cry was pulled from Jimin's mouth without his permission. Taehyung's hand curled around his ankle, his thumb brushing soothing circles into the skin.

Taehyung started up a brutal pace, each thrust accompanied by a soft noise on Jimin's part and heavy breathing on Taehyung's. Jimin wished that they were both naked so that he could feel their heated skin flush against each other but the drag of Taehyung's robes against his skin set him alight all the same. Every now and then, Taehyung gripped his hair or his shoulder in a bruising grip that would surely stay for days. All the while, they held eye contact, even when Jimin's vision blurred with the intensity of the atmosphere.

"I want you," Jimin slurred, "Deeper. More."

"Your cunt that greedy, pretty?" Taehyung grunted out but still he planted a booted foot behind the toned thigh spread onto the vanity, lifting up Jimin's hips to grind into his heat. A wanton moan cut off Jimin's breathless "yes, yes, yes," and he reached behind him to hold onto Taehyung's trouser leg. Jimin's legs trembled, the leather of Taehyung's shoe sticking to his skin, and his cock weeped from the friction it got as Taehyung began to pound into him again.

Jimin's whole body trembled, threatening to collapse beneath him as he felt his climax creep on him. But, suddenly, he didn't want it like this; he wanted Taehyung to be closer, to have their bare skin pressed against each other. He wanted to kiss Taehyung. His voice was no longer his own, completely overtaken by staccato moans, so he tapped onto Taehyung's thigh twice, who immediately slowed to a stop. He exited Jimin, both with a groan, and turned him around, concern in his furrowed brows, worry in his gentle hands.

"Is something wrong, your highness? What is it?"

Jimin shook his head, slipping his arms around Taehyung's neck, forcing his mouth to concentrate enough to get out the words: "Wanna see you. Lemme see you, please? Don' wanna face the mirror n'more."

Taehyung pushed back Jimin's hair from his face, hands cupping his face to get him to look him in the eyes. "But you look so gorgeous, sweet," he said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes," Jimin said, "Just -- wanna feel you, wanna see you. Please."

"Of course, your highness."

Jimin wanted to kiss him so badly -- he was so close, his mouth parted and red, like he'd been biting his lips to keep from making too loud a noise. The mole on his bottom lip looked inviting, begging for a kiss, but so did every other mole on his skin, a constellation that Jimin could touch instead of just stare at if he gathered the courage. There are stars in Taehyung's eyes too, reflected in his blown out pupils from the dancing candlelight.

"You're so pretty," Jimin said, "So handsome. Can I kiss you? Please?"

The tinge of pink staining Taehyung's cheeks was different from the heat of arousal. He glanced down, shy for the first time all evening, and said, "Yes, your -- yes, you can kiss me."

Taehyung's lips simultaneously gave him life and took his breath away. He controlled the kiss in a subtle commanding way, tilting Jimin's head to better the angle and being the first one to lick into the other's mouth. Still so far away so Jimin dragged him closer with his legs, tightening them around his waist until Taehyung had to break the kiss and groan because his cock was pressed against Jimin's silk covered buttocks.

"Gotta get you out of this," Taehyung mumbled, fisting Jimin's underwear like it had personally offended him. "Don't want anything between me and your cunt."

Jimin leaned back onto his elbows. It was quick work for the ties securing Jimin's underwear to fall away and then Jimin was lifting his hips for Taehyung to slip the silks off. Now, he was bare against the vanity, the grain of the wood imprinting itself onto his skin, his hypersensitive arousal exposed to the cool air -- but that was all secondary to Taehyung kneeling and grabbing a hold of one ankle and pressing a kiss to the arch of his foot. His soft lips tickled and Jimin giggled, a near delirious thing, squirming in place when Taehyung started kissing his way up Jimin's leg. He placed a final kiss on the head of Jimin's leaking cock, their eyes caught on each other, all traces of laughter quickly stolen from Jimin's lips.

Taehyung's eyes fluttered closed, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, as he mouthed his way down to Jimin's scrotum. Jimin shuddered as Taehyung licked along the seam running down the middle of his balls, his hips trying to move forward but held still by Taehyung's large hands. He threw his head back with a cry when Taehyung lifted his scrotum out of the way to press his tongue down on his perineum. He was avoiding Jimin's opening and it made Jimin want something inside of him again, whether it be Taehyung's fingers or tongue or cock.

"Please, Tae," Jimin said, "I want to -- I want you in me, please."

Taehyung didn't answer straight away, choosing instead to suck a brutal mark into the inside of Jimin's thigh first, holding him still while he squealed. When he was done, he licked over the bruise, like a salve, then leaned his head against his thigh and grinned up at him. It was a cheeky smile, one that made Jimin's breath catch in his throat.

"Does your cunt miss me already?" he said. He pressed a finger against Jimin's opening, laughing when it easily opened up for him, allowing him to slip two fingers inside. Embarrassment stained Jimin's chest as Taehyung spread the two fingers until his swollen opening was gaping, then spasming as he tried to clench down on the fingers.

"Don't be mean," he whined, "Fuck me, please, just fuck me."

Taehyung laughed again, removing his fingers and standing up. He spread open Jimin's legs, hands moving slowly over his shivering muscles, directing him to hold one of his legs to his chest to keep him open. Jimin waited for Taehyung to enter him again but instead he just tapped his cock against his opening, rubbing himself against Jimin's own cock. It felt good but not what he needed. He wanted to fall apart while Taehyung was inside him.

"Taeee," Jimin started but then his whine was interrupted with a keening sound as Taehyung finally entered him smoothly. The whole glide of his cock was so seamless, hitting him right where he needed it. Taehyung was quick to fall into a steady pace, his punched out moans the perfect harmony to Jimin's cries for more and more did he receive. When Jimin's grip around his leg failed him, Taehyung wound both legs around his waist, encouraging Jimin to pull him closer and keep him close.

Their eyes found each other and Jimin reached out, pulling Taehyung's mouth close to his by his robes. Their kiss was sloppy, lips buzzing so much that Jimin couldn't even tell where he ended and Taehyung began. The roughness of Taehyung's robes against the skin of his cock, the wood pinching his skin with every thrust; every touch drove Jimin more wild, elevating his pleasure until it made his head swim and his vision blurry. He was clutching desperately to Taehyung now, breaking the kiss and gasping just to find some air, when the sharp heat stretching out inside him snapped like an overstrung bow.

He didn't even have a chance to warn Taehyung when his body seized, muscles shaking and vision whiting out as he experienced one of the most intense orgasms he's ever had. He clenched down hard on Taehyung's cock, feeling him press himself deep inside and rotating his hips slowly to work Jimin through it. Jimin's release stained Taehyung's robes but Taehyung didn't seem to care at all, jerking Jimin's cock as though to get all of his seed. As Jimin came back to himself, he realised that the high pitched keening sound echoing in his ears was himself and he quieted himself, breathing hard as he lay limp against the vanity.

Taehyung was still hard inside him but clearly right on the edge, chest heaving as he let go of Jimin's cock to hold onto the base of his own, just the head still inside. It seemed all his concentration was focused on keeping himself still but Jimin didn't want him still. With great effort, Jimin tightened his weak legs around Taehyung's waist, pulling him in.

"Inside," he gasped, the feeling of Taehyung moving waking up parts of his body that needed a break -- but Jimin was determined to feel Taehyung's release dripping out of him. He could handle some pain, welcomed it even.

Taehyung pushed back his sweat soaked hair then gripped onto Jimin's hips and thrust in again. It felt even more intense than it had just minutes prior, so over sensitive that Jimin wasn't sure if the pure feeling was pleasurable or painful, just that it was powerful. Taehyung didn't waste any time, chasing his release with a determination that made Jimin feel like he was just a tool for his pleasure, just taking everything Taehyung gave him.

"You're so," Taehyung moaned, "Fuck, Jimin-ah, you're perfect. Gonna fill up your cunt, gonna --"

Taehyung buried his face into Jimin's neck, biting down as wet warmth spread inside of Jimin. A satisfied smile tugged at Jimin's lips, his tired cock trying to become interested again even though it was far too spent. He held onto Taehyung as his lover shuddered his way through his orgasm, his hips slowly rotating to drag it out, his bite turning into a soothing kiss when Jimin let out a quiet sob at the overstimulation.

Taehyung eased himself out of Jimin, quickly replacing his cock with his fingers in a futile effort to keep all of his seed inside of Jimin. It oozed out, warm and sticky and dirty, dripping down onto the vanity, and eventually Taehyung admitted defeat, pulling them out again. Jimin let out a shaky laugh, his inner muscles contracting, as Taehyung wiped his messy fingers against his robes with a grimace. Jimin had never felt so satisfied, not even when he had ascended to his throne, and felt doubly so when Taehyung began pressing kisses against his chest.

"My king, my king," he mumbled between each kiss, Jimin's laughter vibrating against his lips. "You did so well. So wonderful. My beautiful king."

"Come here," Jimin said and Taehyung immediately did, letting Jimin kiss him, nuzzle his nose into his cheek, whatever he wanted. Part of Jimin wanted to stay here forever, surrounded by and full of Taehyung's warmth, but he ached, sore from their activities of the past hour or so. Taehyung kissed him, once on his lips and then again on each cheek, and Jimin preened under the soft affection.

"Let's get you washed up," Taehyung said, "Come on."

"Bath?" Jimin questioned, hopeful, but Taehyung shook his head.

"Gonna have to settle for a whore's bath, your highness," he said with a cheeky grin, laughing when Jimin pretended to hit him. Taehyung helped Jimin to his feet, catching him when he stumbles under his unsteady legs. In a sort of efficiency that comes from years of practice, Taehyung gathers Jimin's things, wrapping him in one of the silk skirts on the floor, and then frogmarching him to the bathroom.

They didn't have the patience to heat up some water so the wet cloth that gently dragged across Jimin's sensitive skin was room temperature but cool enough that it made him break out into goosebumps. Taehyung apologised, running his warm hands over the raised skin, massaging his muscles to ease out some of the tension. Jimin looked down on him with a hearth warming his insides, the flames warm and homely.

This arrangement between the two of them had been going on for a while now. It had started in their teen years when Jimin, as a young confused prince, started to realise that while his older brother may have already started showing interest in women he had not. Instead his gaze had fallen to someone who had been by Jimin's side for so many years, a confidante and playmate that his father would have never approved of but one Jimin had been careful to never let him find out about. It had taken so much encouragement and waiting on Jimin's part for Taehyung's gaze to look up from the ground and face Jimin's head on as an equal. But once he did, their relationship had been able to bloom, as secret as a whisper in the night, just their own and for no one else.

Taehyung always handled him to gently, like his royal blood meant that he was precious. He only acted differently when Jimin asked it of him, obedient even for this. Open-minded and capable: exactly what Jimin wanted and craved and Jimin knew Taehyung grew a taste for their dynamic as well. The gentle cruelty that could come of Taehyung's hands and lips surprised Jimin sometimes but always pleasantly and always in a way that made him want more.

But part of what Jimin loved most about their night time encounters was this: Taehyung whispering unabashed compliments, so genuine that they made Jimin shy, his smile so bright and kind that Jimin often wondered how it was the same man that had made him fall apart just minutes earlier. As Taehyung dressed him into his sleeping clothes, Jimin felt the suggestion of what would come again in the morning. The distance they would have to pretend was between them, the meetings upon meetings he would have to go through before being able to see Taehyung again. Jimin had done too many unspeakable things to gain his throne but he would undo it all if it meant he could be in Taehyung's arms all day and night.

Taehyung finished clearing up after themselves, dirty clothes in his hands that would have to be washed before any others noticed them. They had already managed to sneak back into Jimin's chambers, his guards none the wiser for they knew how to be quiet after so many nights together. Jimin was in bed, tucked in and warm and sated, but still. He felt needy.

”You know,” he said, “You forgot something today.”

Taehyung’s confusion was cute: the pout of his lips, the furrow of his brows. “Did I?” he questioned.

”Yes,” Jimin said, a smile dancing on his lips. “I specifically wanted you to be a barbarian warlord. What did I get? A no name, maybe assassin. Were my instructions not clear?”

He’s teasing and Taehyung knew it so the gasp he let out was purely comical.

”My king, forgive me,” he simpered. “Whatever can I do to make up for this transgression?”

”Stay with me tonight.”

Taehyung frowned, some nervousness as he glanced to where the guards should be.

"Please? I want to be with you."

It took only a moment's hesitation before Taehyung nodded, ridding himself of the outer robes and now in just his underthings. He carefully folded their clothes by the foot of Jimin's bed and then climbed in, immediately wrapping his arms around Jimin. He placed a kiss on Jimin's forehead and Jimin giggled, burying his face in Taehyung's chest. He looked up at Taehyung and found him looking at him already -- his eyes were so warm, held so much devotion, that Jimin felt shy again.

Jimin played with the fastenings of Taehyung's undershirt. He knew Taehyung would be gone before he woke up, his day always starting before Jimin's, but the loneliness of the morning was worth it to be held right now.

”Thank you,” he whispered as Taehyung’s hands lulled him to sleep.

”Of course, your highness "