Changmin stretches above the settee, flipping to the next page of his recent literary conquest, lost in the gripping narration of an emerging well-fought battle between a man and a Berserker. He grunts in approval when the fatal blow is delivered and the beast succumbs to the thirst for blood, roaring as he delves into the throng of bodies once more to fight for the kidnapped woman whose fate is still unrevealed at this point of the story.

Rain pelts the palace roofs, muffled to a steady humdrum that combined with the telling of the book casts him oblivious to the sound of his chamber doors allowing the entrance of a booted figure. He flips to another page, still unware until the settee dips with the weight of another person and he’s pulled back to the present, a smile quickly replacing his previous concentrated frown. The figure looms over him from the top of his book and a soft Hello passes those parted lips.

He lays the book forgotten on the floor then, filling his hands with the softness of the backs of her thighs, pulling her for a closer straddle. There’s a hum and sigh when they find the perfect fit, and he relishes the way she slowly drapes over him – soft and willing and warm – that his smile grows a little wider.

You are shirking your duties, my King.

But his hand slips further up, seeking for the opening that would lead to the smooth expanse of her back where he eventually trails his fingers and Changmin says, Maybe, thinking she’s not close to minding when her own are playfully tracing upwards his neck and over the angle of his jaw.

And are you not doing the same, my dear Lord Commander?

She’d angled by him just enough that a tilt of her head sends the warm tingle of breath against his skin; a second later her lips find purchase on the spot just below his ear. He hums something low and swallows, hips shifting below her in a delicious rub of hard against soft. She does it again, a little longer, a little more daring and Changmin’s momentarily lost.

My duty is to protect the king.

More like provoking now, he mutters to her amusement. His face scrunches obligingly when she taps his nose but the usual retaliation is foregone in preference of fingers threading through the silk of her hair.