Royal (pain in the )


A fetid, stale stench of sweat combined with heavy and almost gut-turning scent of burned herbs, held together by thin ropes that exuded the twirling smoke fogging the room, had his royal assistant choking and gasping for air mere minutes after entering Prince’s chambers. With such unimaginable haste he pushed the champagne colored drapes aside, them rippling on non existent wind from the sheer force, and after a few interminably long moments of fiddling with his ivory fingers, he finally pushed the lavishly decorated window open. A strong and valiant, incredibly clear gush of wind hit his undulating chest, such a striking contrast to the fetid room bathed in fervor exuded by the fireplace. It was overly stacked with wood that but burned so bright and majestic Joonmyeon had to his garnet vest adorned with golden thread and slip it off his shoulders, folding it immaculately before proceeding to let it rest on a chair adjacent to the ebony nightstand beside Prince’s bed.

-“Oh, my Lord.” He sighed in troubled voice, seeing the young man beneath a sea of richly bedight blankets and covers crack one of his eyes open, bow shaped lips so velvety to touch tugging up into a tired, albeit complacent smile. “What have they done to you?”
Joonmyeon shook his head, his nicely combed hair bobbing due to the fervent moves, falling down to frame the soft features perfectly.
-“It is but a cold, Joonmyeon.” Jongdae somehow spoke, heaving terribly after a mere moment due to adamant and arrant heat his body had to endure.
-“I meant the room my Lord. You ought to fall into an even deeper sickness from this foul smell.” The Prince laughed softly.
-“Please rid me of these awful covers, I feel like I am burning alive. Two or three will do, seven is but by far too much.” Jongdae asked, face contorting with unease.

Joonmyeon did just as his lord ordered him to do, with great pleasure to add. With three covers the young Prince was warm enough and had the ability to move, unlike with all seven his mother ordered for servants to place on him, worrying greatly he would be but cold.
Jongdae moved a bit more to the center of the bed, his skin glistening from sweat and hair damp, sticking revoltingly to his face.
Joonmyeon had sat on the edge, his sleeves rolled up to meet his elbows as he pulled a clear gilded carafe elegantly shaped and poured a copious amount of its content into a wooden bowl resting between his legs. The clear, spring water was amiably cold – room temperature, assured him the maids when they brought the clean towels out of which he grabbed one and soaked it with water. Twisting it around, he let the excess water drip back into the bowl before he turned around to face the patient, both physical and mental, and slowly pressed the drenched fabric over his flushed cheeks and red neck.

All that His Highness did to help was ing the first few buttons of his night garment, the linen fabric pushed aside to reveal a magnificent and luscious sight of alabaster skin, a canvas so pure and smooth and glistening from sweat, along with delicate collar bones that protruded like boldest of individuals, carving a perfect relief out of other’s body.
He slowly trailed the damp cloth down other’s neck, pressing it softly over his sharp features, most notably the expressed Adam’s apple that bobbed lightly when His Royal Highness gulped a tad too loudly for Joonmyeon not to notice it, albeit his unfazed eyes stayed calm and countenance composed as he continued cooling other’s heated body.

Joonmyeon took in the sight of other man’s eyes, them deep and dark- akin to a pool of molten chocolate, and that amiable gaze that grazed his features as it followed his every move, every little aspiration the royal assistant made, and finally settled on his neck where the first button pushed from its slit allowed a timid view of porcelain skin beneath.
Busy with dampening the cloth again, Joonmyeon failed to notice Prince shifting in his place and returned back to the task of brushing the dark locks drenched in sweat away, gently placing the cool surface of the towel against the young man’s forehead.
Joonmyeon’s brows creased. Soon afterwards, his ruby lips pulled into a fine, tight line, biting back a snappy remark he almost uttered. He thought it would stop, yet the unrelenting elfishness that was his Lord promised of no such thing.
Before the matter escalated any further, and by the way he enjoyed the little treatment, he pulled the towel away, straightening his back in a fine, tall posture.

-“Your Majesty.” He spoke, his sonorous voice dripping in sternness. “Please remove your hand from my pants.”
The Prince pouted in childish anger, lips pulled into a grimace as he muttered a low ‘Fine.’ somewhere between his huffs of displeasure, drowning himself even deeper beneath the sea of blankets so that only his glimmering eyes could be seen, sharp, yet delicate eyebrows complimenting them.
-“You are with a cold and in no state…” With no stamina, better said, elided Joonmyeon. ”For anything of such nature.”
He got up, dropping the cloth in the wooden bowl as he headed for the open window, room now refreshed and smelling of crisp winter air that wafted above the heated floor.
-“Nonsense.” Muttered Prince, obviously greatly displeased by the turn around of the events, lips pouting almost childishly as he peered up at the approaching silhouette of his personal assistant. “It never stopped you before.”
The older of the two let out choked gasps of outrage, face blushing madly as he suddenly felt a tad warmer than he should have, than anyone should, on that matter.

-“Fine, if you say so, then so be it.” Prince spoke, voice laden with coldness. Joonmyeon knew the other was up to something.
-“But if I die here, tonight, in this bed smelling so fetid of my sweat, sweat that I exuded, mind you, not by drowning myself in lascivious and luscious, passionate dalliance with my lover but by being sick with cold, let it be known that you refused me!” Oh, the queen of drama has emerged. “You refused, blatantly, a desperate plea from your master…” Jongdae started coughing, eyes closed as a dramatic flailing of his hand followed, the tips of his fingers coming to rest on his forehead. “And all he wanted was for you-!” He suddenly opened his eyes, staring almost creepily sharp at Joonmyeon’s face, “To make love to him. Oh you foolish man…” The amount of deceptive coughing increased. “To refuse something like that… When His Highness asks it of you… Oh, curse you, curse, curse, curse you.” Suddenly he lurched forwards, eyes so wide it scared the soul out of Joonmyeon, watching as a thin, delicate arm outstretched towards him in a desperate attempt to grasp his hand.
-“Joo…Joonmye…on” The Prince choked out, faking the breathlessness before outright collapsing on the pillow, room suddenly engulfed by echoing sound of the thud. Jongdae’s eyes were closed, closed for a long time and Joonmyeon had to admit the other absolutely perfected the art of playing dead. He reminded himself to bring something as the award for the play the next time he sees the man.

But he waited, waited for the moment where Jongdae will be tired of his act and sober up, and with such intent set in his mind, he waited for almost five long minutes motionlessly by other’s bed until he saw a daring eye creak open, followed by a fit of choked laughter and real coughs as he lurched forwards, chaining the man to his bed by pressing the lush covers harder over him.

-“N-no, don’t! Let me go, Joonmyeon!” The Prince laughed, his boisterous voice booming off the high walls adorned with immaculately formed tapestry and rich wallpapers as the older of the two relented, loosening his grip.
-“Your Majesty…” Joonmyeon sighed, running a tired hand through his hair as he felt other’s daring forefinger latch for the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer and closer to his face.
-“I see you are more than well.” He concluded, sharply defined eyebrow raising as he observed the Prince, the object of his affection, softly exhaling over his cheek before their lips met in a kiss so ridden of bashfulness and full of knowledge of each other’s bodies it left them blushing afterwards – Jongdae albeit due to cold.

-“You do not fear I will catch a cold as well? Who will tend to you then, Your Highness?” Joonmyeon asked, pressing an affectionate kiss to younger man’s forehead before trying to pull away, yet Jongdae would have none of it. Flagrantly refusing the idea of Joonmyeon moving away, he pulled him in for another needy kiss, exhaling complacently when they parted away with ruby lips swelling from the abuse of passionate touches caressing them. Jongdae seemed to be suffering of naught lassitude.
-“I don’t care.” He said, voice stern in decision, “I will have you make love to me tonight whether you like or dislike the idea of it.”
Joonmyeon laughed in resignation, burying his face into other man’s neck before pressing his plump lips affectionately against the alabaster skin salty from sweat.


And much to the truth, not much later that week Joonmyeon was forcefully placed in bed, diagnosed with even worse case of cold than his Lord. Muttering a sharp and biting river of profanities when the said man’s head peeked between the crack in his doorway, Jongdae placing a sly finger over his bow shaped lips to remind him those were but ugly words, Joonmyeon yelled after Jongdae things no one else hopefully heard. Whilst watching the man’s retreating back running away from the servant’s wing and disappearing behind a corner, leaving the door to Joonmyeon’s chambers open, cold wind flew past him, biting at his sweaty skin and damp clothes and he was tied by blankets to his mattress.

Oh all the bloody throes Prince put him on.