Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The demon kneeling before Yoojin is pretty—tan skin, even darker hair that falls around his shoulders in long, generous waves. Soft lips press against the back of Yoojin’s hand, and like the dozen other demons before him, Yoojin can’t pinpoint a single, visible flaw in either his appearance or posture. 

Handpicked by the Lord of the seventh realm; most likely trained to perfectly suit whatever Yoojin may need. 

“It’s an honour to kneel before Your Highness,” the demon reverently says.

Yoojin pulls his hand away at the mention of his former title. He doesn’t bother correcting the demon and merely gestures to him to slot back among the line of other suitors waiting for their turn. 

The next demon is already walking towards him. There's a sinuous sway to her hips that rivals the impressive span of her wings, but she abruptly stops, frozen in the middle of everything. Eyes wide, she swallows, hesitant to take another step forward. 

Yoojin can't see everyone's faces considering their position on the floor, but the tense lines of shoulders are easy to make out. If even Yoojin notices a tug of irritation at the back of his mind, he can only imagine what pressure they are exposed to.  

The large double doors to the throne room fly open, brute force nearly pushing them off their hinges. 

Yoohyeon walks in with long, heavy strides that prelude his rage. It’s a palpable thing, suffocating in its presence, and the closer he comes, the more every demon in the room cowers further into themselves.

Yoohyeon doesn’t spare the pretty arrangement of suitors a single glance as he walks past them, mismatched eyes solely fixed on Yoojin.

“Leave, before I escort you myself.” 

The hall clears within seconds. Even the servants steer clear of Yoohyeon when he’s angered and Yoojin braces himself, never quite ready for the drowning embrace Yoohyeon pulls him into once he’s close enough. 

The burning embers of his rage fizzle into a low, defiant fire as Yoohyeon wraps around him, large wings shielding them from the world.

“... At least you didn't kill them this time,” Yoojin sighs.

Yoohyeon ignores him. His long, scaly tail curls around Yoojin’s thigh and stays there, squeezing for his own comfort. “You're not sitting on the throne,” Yoohyeon murmurs.

His eyes peer to the large structure behind them, the seat unnecessarily lavish yet draped in darkness like the rest of the castle. Yoojin shrugs. 

"It's yours when it isn't fathers,” He says and gives Yoohyeon's waist a comforting pat. “You know I never liked it. Gives them less things to run their mouths about, too.”

Yoohyeon glowers at the empty throne first, then at Yoojin. “Those demons shouldn’t even be allowed in the same room as you.”

Yoojin hides a fond smile into Yoohyeon's shoulder. There’s a significant difference in rank between Yoojin and the demons he’s been offered that is decidedly not in his favour—no doubt intentionally—but Yoohyeon only cares about that selectively. Yoojin cards a hand through Yoohyeon's hair, allowing his little brother to cling to him. “You know this is mere protocol to appease the council. It’s not like I’ll choose anyone they send me.”

“But do you really have to keep doing this?”

Yoojin jabs his tail into Yoohyeon's ribs at the audible pout in his dongsaeng's voice. 

“I have a pretense to uphold. And since you aren’t keen on bending to neither the nobles’ nor the council's whims, someone has to play obedient lap dog.”

It’ll give them another year or so to further secure Yoohyeon's standing; deal with the council in a way that won’t put the entire realm against them for treason.

Yoohyeon’s strong, terrifyingly so, but he needs allies more than he does enemies. 

Yoojin pulls back enough to make out Yoohyeon's ever-present downturn of his mouth, an action Yoohyeon only reluctantly allows. There’s a deep furrow in between Yoohyeon’s eyes that Yoojin reaches for with his thumb. 

Yoohyeon catches his wrist before he can smoothen it out, frown deepening. His leathery wings rustle as they spread, wider and more imposing than before. “It’s not like I don’t want an heir,” he murmurs as he nuzzles into Yoojin’s hands. Yoojin arches an eyebrow. 

Even if Yoohyeon were willing to take a single glance at the suitors the council kept throwing at them, he’s busier with his duties as a crown prince than Yoojin ever was. 

Yoojin swallows a familiar wave of bitterness. 

“You’ve been saying that, yet you’ve also refused to even look at anyone. There were some pretty females in the last batch they sent us, you know.”

“I don’t care about them.”

“Then how about—”

“I don’t care about any of them, hyung,” Yoohyeon firmly says, wrapping one arm around Yoojin’s waist. He leans down towards Yoojin’s neck, lips skimming across the length of it.

Yoojin doesn’t fight it. It’d be useless too. Yoohyeon always does what he wants when he gets worked up, and there’s the familiar pang of self-conscious guilt gnawing in the hollows of his heart because all he does is stand there, unmoving. 

Yoohyeon exhales against his flushed skin. It's painfully audible how much restraint he’s exercising in the thin fractures threading through his voice. 

“I leave tomorrow morning,” Yoohyeon says and pulls away slightly, enough to give Yoojin room to breathe once more. “The gate from the Justicar's breach is still open, and it's estimated to connect us to the human realm in about two nights. We are to intercept anyone from coming through.”

Yoojin’s expression hardens. “If Lord Choi Sukwon had followed my orders, it would have already closed a long time ago.”

“The council might have interfered. And even if they didn’t, you know how fickle Sukwon is.” Yoohyeon’s arm squeezes around Yoojin, eyes darkening with contempt for everyone who doesn't mindlessly obey his hyung. “He didn’t accept you when you were still crown prince, and he has accepted your new position even less.”

Yoojin pinches the bridge of his nose. Sukwon's tantrum was cute ten years ago, now it's just a permanent thorn in Yoojin's side.

“Titles really are just for show, huh?” He laments. 

Determination steels Yoohyeon’s gaze. “I will deal with him once I’m back.”

“Don't. I’ll handle the matter myself."

Yoojin brushes invisible dust off Yoohyeon’s shoulders. He really doesn’t like Yoohyeon going out to the gates as frequently as he currently is, but it does wonders to his budding reputation, especially with their parents in such a fragile state.  

Demons value sheer power above most things, after all, and his dongsaeng has plenty to showcase. 

Finely attuned to his hyung's every need, Yoohyeon easily senses his discontentment. “It won't take long,” Yoohyeon adds, softer. “Given the time limit, they’re most likely going for a quick skirmish. We’ll deal with them before they gather any useful intel.”

“I don’t know why they keep trying,” Yoojin sighs, “we’ve never let them even get past Tarkhal’s Rift. Is there a reason you need to go personally?” 

“Intel suggests a Transcendent’s champion might participate.” 

Yoojin nods; the possibility of a champion alone would be enough of a reason to mobilise most of their elite forces. Still, that doesn't mean he has to like it, especially after what happened the first time Yoohyeon went out to face one on his own. 

It’s a memory he doesn’t like recalling even after ten years. Yoojin can't quite hide the irritated flick of his tail anymore, chest aching with phantom pain. Yoohyeon’s eyes are full of unspoken concern, and there’s a part inside Yoojin that resents that softness.  

“I'll come home within just a few days,” Yoohyeon promises. 

“You better,” Yoojin warns, but ruffles Yoohyeon's mop of hair that always manages to walk that fine line between actually being messy and purposefully tousled. If Yoohyeon's tail still weren't wrapped around Yoojin’s thigh, it'd be thumping happily against the ground. 

“Yoohyeon-ah.”

Yoohyeon obediently lets him go. His tail is slower to follow, only unraveling when Yoojin threatens to tug on it. 

“Don’t allow another audience of suitors until I’ve returned,” Yoohyeon calls over his shoulder. 

The hidden threat is not meant for him, but Yoojin sighs anyway. He crosses his arms and stares at the way Yoohyeon neatly folded his wings on his back until he's out of the room. 

What a troublesome little brother he raised. 

Three nights pass without much notice.

Thick stacks of paper pile on Yoojin’s desk one after the other, waiting for their turn. 

There’s always a lot to manage in Yoohyeon’s absence—audiences, resource management for the ever growing army and, more recently, drafting treaties and handling the delicate matter of alliance agreements. The corresponding contracts have been years in the making, and Yoojin's so close to sealing all deals necessary that he won't let the pesky council get the better of him, even if it means entertaining their endless antics. 

Soon.

It’s tiresome work, but he does prefer it over his previous duties as the crown prince. 

Chirpie appears in a swirl of fire, holding a charred letter in their beak. Yoojin's stagnating mood lifts—he gets rather cranky without his brother around, so Yoohyeon makes sure to always send more reports than is formally necessary. 

Thanking Chirpie, he takes the letter from them. 

It’s uncharacteristically short. 

Something’s off, hyung, he reads in Yoohyeon's signature handwriting. A champion was here, but they left almost as soon as I arrived. Stay inside the castle. I'm on my way back.

Were they already successful in defending their grounds? It would make sense if the champion really didn’t show up, but that would warrant entirely different levels of concern. An emergency back on Earth that forced them to retreat, or perhaps a tactical withdrawal to stir confusion? Bait them into a skirmish on unfavorable terrain?

Yoojin rakes his brain through a variety of possible reasons, each theory more ridiculous than the last. No matter how he looks at it, a champion not engaging in battle despite having been present just doesn't make sense, especially if their realms so rarely connect with one another.  

Chirpie starts picking at his fingers holding the letter. Yoojin is quick to concede and puts the letter together with all the others from Yoohyeon.

“Sorry, sorry. Yes, you did well.” After closing the drawer, Yoojin playfully taps Chirpie's beak. “I'll get your reward in a bit.”

Still, he very much shares Yoohyeon’s concerns that something feels off. 

After another loud chirp, Yoojin moves Chirpie to their nest, only to discover most of it is buried beneath papers. Stammering another apology, he quickly cleans up. Once Chirpie is happily sitting in their second-favourite spot right after Yoojin's head, he leans back in his chair, stretching. 

He’s been too busy pouring over his own intel reports to notice the empty growl of his stomach. A snack doesn't sound too bad right now, and he needs to get Chirpie some mana crystals for a job well done, anyway.

He looks under his desk—Peace not curled up in his little bed means he's probably lazing around the kitchen too. Another reason to take a break. Yoojin sighs deeply, then gets up and exits his personal studies. 

A sense of foreboding; followed by a line of frost down his spine. 

Yoojin stops right before completing his first step outside the door and backtracks. To his left and right, familiar hallways stretch endlessly—it’s quiet, like it always is. Neither he or Yoohyeon are fond of much noise. The furniture is the same; dark and heavy and pointlessly ancient in its heritage. The moonlight casts an eerie glow onto the gloomy castle walls, painting them liquid silver. 

At the end of the hallway, golden eyes observe him from the darkness.

Yoojin bolts. 

It’s a split second decision, directing what little mana he has into his legs. He’s not foolish enough to stay and try standing his ground against someone who has breached into the heart of the castle without anyone noticing. Precious waste of the few seconds he may or may not have. 

Golden chains materialise out of thin air. He hisses as they wind tightly around his body within the blink of an eye, completely halting any ongoing movements.  

He curses under his breath—what was he hoping for, really? With his body as weak as it is, the battle was lost before it even began. 

Footsteps gradually approach, like the intruder has all the time in the world. Polished soles click against polished ground. Yoojin struggles against the chain and tries to turn his head around to catch a glimpse, but it’s no use. 

His tail is the only thing not completely locked in place and it’s frozen, just like the rest of him. 

“I apologise for the rough treatment,” a pleasant voice says. “Usually, I’d be quite happy to give chase, but we both know I'm here on borrowed time.”

Yoojin shivers. He’s never even heard a demon speak like this—each letter lovingly arranged into words, then wrapped in the expensive, silken sheets of a velvet voice. 

The intruder who enters Yoojin’s field of vision is a man even taller than Yoohyeon. Some parts of his blonde hair is slicked back, the rest falls into a face defined by soft and sharp features alike. He’s clad in military garb of a high ranking officer, the white fabric almost blinding in the sparse moonlight. Tiny pinholes mark the places where the uniform stretches tightly over his chest—remnants of countless medals and commendations, all absent. A long, red coat is draped over broad shoulders, amplifying an already commanding aura. 

The intruder cuts an impressive figure, but Yoojin's attention lies solely on the unwavering smile he wears. Its politeness does not match the dangerous glow of those golden eyes in the slightest—too feral for a human, too intelligent for a beast.  

Yoojin swallows the lump threatening to clog his throat. 

He wonders how long the human has been inside the castle, how many he’s killed while Yoojin remained blissfully unaware. Since the guards shadowing Yoojin at all times aren't interfering, they must have already been incapacitated one way or another.

It’s times like these that he curses the uselessness of his body.

Yoojin can only hope the time window between Yoohyeon sending his report and Chirpie arriving was rather wide. The little demon familiar is volatile like that, mostly acting on the motivation of an empty stomach. 

“I don’t recall inviting a human to our realm,” Yoojin coldly says, and if he were able to, he’d raise his chin in a show of defiance. 

The human’s eyes crinkle into little half moons at his open hostility.

“You did send out invitations. Granted, they may have had a different audience in mind, but all I did was take you up on the offer.”

Yoojin’s eyebrows furrow. The human provides no further explanation, entirely comfortable with the apparent gap of information between them. He grabs Yoojin’s chin with a gloved hand—the chain restricting him loosens and allows the human to lift his head ever so slightly. 

Steel grey against blazing gold. Something about that colour is painfully familiar.  

“As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms.” The human feigns a hurtful look and sighs deeply. “A shame, really—I do try to avoid conflict when possible. A terrible waste of time, if you ask me.”

Yoojin tries not to stare at the smudge of violet blood grazing the edge of a finely shaped eyebrow. Thus far, it’s the only imperfection he can make out.

“Cut to the chase,” Yoojin says, curt and diplomatic like when he’s dealing with the council. “Given how much you enjoy flaunting your position, you’re clearly capable of killing me. Tell me what it is that you want.”

Yoojin’s blunt response seems to amuse the human more than anything. The human bends down to his ear, hot breath fanning against it. 

The low, detached drawl that follows is as polite as it is cold. 

“It's more about what you want—word has it the royal family is looking for an heir.”

Yoojin’s eyes widen. The council did make it public that one of them was to be wedded simply to add to the pressure, but it's not like the news should have travelled beyond their realm. What use is this information to the human, anyway? Out of all the things he could have come here for, it surely isn’t to discuss the countless suitors Yoojin’s been pretending to care about. 

The human’s burning through his mana at an amplified rate in this very second—no matter how strong he is, there’s a time limit hanging above him. 

With thunder in his heart, Yoojin puts on his best fake smile. “What is it to you?”

The human laughs. He doesn’t deign him with an immediate answer and instead caresses the slope of Yoojin's neck with the hand already halfway around his throat. Curious thumbs press into the soft flesh there. Yoojin’s tail jerks once, going from frozen solid to slowly uncurling itself, nervously swaying from side to side at the strangely intimate touch. 

“I came to offer myself,” the human hums, nonchalantly.

And before Yoojin can even begin processing that statement, the human catches Yoojin’s tail with his free hand, rubbing the thin appendage between his fingers. “In the academy, there are quite a lot of interesting things they teach us about the demon race.”

Yoojin squirms as the human starts tracing the length of his tail with his hand, one inch at a time. He takes another step forward—Yoojin’s forced to crane his neck upward to even look at him—until Yoojin’s vision is mostly taken up by a broad chest. “I’ve always wondered how much of it was true, and how much of it was wishful thinking. After all, not everything they taught us was purely related to combat.”

The human's voice is impossibly low, laced with a gentle caress. 

The palm touching his tail is now pressed fully against Yoojin's lower back. Fingertips slip through the opening of his coat and rub around the base of his tail in slow, languid circles. 

“Do you not possess a pair of wings? Or would I need to coax them out?”

Sparks of heat break through Yoojin’s angry confusion. With how much attention he's dedicating to it, it's like the human knows his tail is a bit of a weak point for him. Yoojin bites his lips in an attempt to stay quiet—if he lets the human know he’s affected by any of this, he'll die without any pride.

“Then again, I already find you quite charming like this.”

More prodding, close to tugging. Yoojin manages to turn an incoming whine into a half-hearted hiss. “Get your hands off me, you bastard!”

“You do remind me of the stray cats I see loitering on the streets," the human murmurs. His head is tilted to the side, eyes flickering between Yoojin’s tail and his face, like he's observing and categorising new data. “Weak, skittish creatures with a surprisingly fierce side to them.”

A thumb nudges against Yoojin’s lips, pushing in. Instinctively, Yoojin bites down and digs his canine in as best as he can in hopes to do something.

He knows he's weak. He doesn't need a reminder shoved into his face like this; kicked and toyed around like something to be discarded. 

The human pulls his hand away and inspects it for damage. There’s a strange sense of fondness underlying his next words.

“Ahh. How adorable.”

No blood visible—Yoojin’s fangs didn’t even pierce through the gloves, and he wonders what materials they’re made of. Probably something utterly expensive, fitting the rest of the human's attire. Even without it, he possesses the aura of someone used to authority. 

A duke, perhaps? A high general of the army? 

"Coin for your thoughts?” The human asks in that same, disgustingly kind tone ever since he first opened his mouth.

Yoojin merely bares his fangs at him. The chances of him getting out of this predicament are virtually zero, but if anything, he’s tired of playing this human’s game. 

“If you don't tell me what you really want, you can just kill me already. No need to drag this out.” Remembering the human’s earlier words, Yoojin’s lips curve into a condescending smirk. “It’ll save us both precious time.”

The human clicks his tongue. 

“So eager to die, aren't we?” He tilts his head, a genuine frown marring his handsome face. “I already told you—you’re looking for an heir, and I just happen to be willing to provide.”

Yoojin blinks “I thought that—hah. Surely you are jesting.”

“On the contrary,” the human muses, electricity sparking where he's running a finger along one of the many chains keeping Yoojin in place, “I’ve never been more serious.”

Yoojin's laugh is as dry as it can get. “You’re speaking in riddles. You come into our realm, slaughtering your way through the castle, trap me in place, and all you want is… to offer yourself to me?”

Speaking it out loud makes it sound even more ridiculous. 

The human’s eyebrows furrow, but Yoojin’s too deep into the sheer madness of the situation to properly pay attention to the subtle shift of facial expressions.  

“Why would a human meddle in our affairs, anyway? There’s nothing to gain for you from this arrangement. And if it’s my brother you’re after, then you’re most likely already aware that he isn’t here.”

The part of him that hasn’t forlorn hope yet is relieved. 

The human finally takes a step back, allowing Yoojin to breathe for once. He is silent for a minute or two, like he's gauging whether or not to smite Yoojin for his insolent behaviour and get it over with. 

Instead, the chains around Yoojin rustle and rearrange themselves—becoming looser in some places, tighter in others. The queasiness inside Yoojin's stomach grows as he’s moved closer to the human once more.

“Forgive my rudeness. In all my excitement, it seems like I’ve forgotten to introduce myself.” The human pulls Yoojin’s hand towards his face. He meets it halfway, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

It’s gentle, barely a peck of his lips, but it burns Yoojin to the core. 

“My name is Seong Hyeonje,” the human introduces himself, his eyes penetrating from where they’re peeking through artfully tousled bangs, “and I’ve been wanting to meet Your Highness for quite some time.”

Yoojin's eyes widen. 

Of course, he thinks. Of course it's him—how could he be so foolish to forget? The chains are new, but this power, those eyes of his are unmistakable. 

(The pungent smell of charred flesh. Hands full of dried blood, more oozing from between his fingertips as he presses down into blackened skin. Bile at the back of his throat—the battlefield is near unrecognisable, overtaken by pouring rain and the deafening roar of thunder. The smell of ozone. His own helplessness, just as present as the endless well of power trapped deep inside of him—finally flickering to life after all these years, only in the face of his little brother’s death.)

Something’s off, hyung. 

Something’s off.

Hyung. 

“You,” Yoojin starts, shaken as the pieces click together with sobering clarity. “You were supposed—”

“—to be attacking the third realm?” Hyeonje shrugs nonchalantly. “I was, but imagine my surprise when I arrived on the other side of the gate. One dead brother alive, stronger than even before, and the other one nowhere to be found.” Hyeonje smiles, blithe and too delighted in spite of the cruelty of his words. “It's a shame finding you here, hidden away like some precious jewellery. I thought the battlefield quite suited you.”

“It wasn't my decision,” Yoojin snaps, and as much as it hurts admitting that, it's partially true. 

“Of course,” Hyeonje says, amicable as ever. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Yoojin continues to glare. It's all he can do; none of this makes sense. 

“You’re serious about this,” he slowly says, and it's not a question anymore.

The passing years has mellowed his hate, though a distinctive disdain for Crescent Moon’s champion remains. 

“I thought I made that much clear.”

“... That still doesn’t explain anything," Yoojin says. He averts his gaze. 

The turmoil inside him is still going strong, but it has settled into a sort of restlessness that is just as hard to deal with. Knowing he can’t make sense of the situation at hand, no matter how much he tries with the information he's been given. 

Hyeonje should want to kill him. It’d be the logical thing to do—their kind has been at war with each other for centuries through the forceful opening of gates. Mindless slaughtering does not require much reason beyond a simple call of duty, and Hyeonje’s already killed his brother once, void of any personal reason. 

And yet, not an ounce of killing intent is present in Hyeonje’s face. Most importantly—Yoojin's still alive. There’s danger awaiting him, yes, but it’s not death, and that’s what unsettles Yoojin the most. 

There’s something unsettling about the way the corners of Hyeonje's mouth curl upwards. It’s a smile, but not a kind one. 

He hasn't let go of Yoojin's wrist yet, absentmindedly stroking the thin flesh on the inside with his thumb. Yoojin's entirely too hyperaware of that single point of contact, and it takes everything not to curl into himself.

“Let’s… call it a personal interest of mine,” Hyeonje drawls. 

It's clear the man won't reveal his true motive no matter what Yoojin tries, which leaves him with only one option. 

“You’re a human,” Yoojin grits through clenched teeth. “Even if I were to consider your… insane proposal, it wouldn’t work out. You can’t bear a demon’s child. Champion or not, it’d eat you from the inside out.” 

Hyeonje laughs, full-bellied and delighted. The sound has Yoojin's ears burning with embarrassment, poking more holes into his nearly non-existent pride. 

“Since words aren't getting through your pretty little head, perhaps a more physical demonstration is required." 

Yoojin yelps as Hyeonje commands his golden chains anew. He’s moved mid-air, the world spinning around him in dark colours, and then he’s facing the ceiling, his body hovering horizontally in the air. Yoojin cranes his neck up to watch Hyeonje step in between his legs, parting them with natural ease.

“I may be human, but you are demon, aren’t you, Your Highness?” Hyeonje says, his voice devoid of any traces of their usual playfulness. “If everything they taught us at the academy is true, I fail to see the problem.”

A feeling of dread more profound than anything he’s experienced settles within Yoojin as Hyeonje’s hand splays across his stomach—it covers the entirety of it effortlessly, long fingers teasing along the edge of his ribs. 

The ever so present smile has dropped from Hyeonje’s face.

Yoojin knows danger well, and every instinct inside of him is telling him to run, run, run. 

Get away as far as he can, never look back at the man whose eyes shine the coldest shade of sunlight he has ever seen.  

Hyeonje cocks his head, the gesture infinitely more dangerous and volatile without a smile to distract from it. “Shall I tell you a secret, Your Highness?”

Yoojin vehemently shakes his head, but Hyeonje ignores him. He presses down onto Yoojin’s stomach and Yoojin gasps, his touch a searing brand even through his gloves.

Golden eyes gleam with thinly veiled hunger. 

“I’ve always wanted to breed a cute, little demon like you.”

Chapter Text

Ten years ago, a gate opened to the demon realm. 

Hyeonje had been younger back then; less polished and not yet chosen by Crescent Moon, but still powerful enough to warrant countless, meaningless awards on a uniform he was only starting to get used to. 

He's never paid them much attention. Medals lacked substance, but he liked how they looked; pretty decorations all carefully picked out and made just for him. 

People did tend to cheer louder when he was entering gates with them. 

There were two things Hyeonje took note of when he first arrived at what soon became a battlefield—a fire burning bright even among the hellscape of demons, followed by a more subdued source of unruly mana hovering near, elusive enough to keep slipping out of Hyeonje's grasp among the hundreds of other beings fighting one another.

The intensity of the first presence was interesting. Hyeonje, in his endless pursuit of things worth his time, enjoyed fighting the demon carrying that greedy, insatiable fire in both his sword and his eyes. 

More intriguing than that, though, was the second presence. It’d been hard to pinpoint that particular demon from so far away among all the others, but watching him cradle what was left of Hyeonje’s opponent at the end of their battle, there’s no way he could have missed it. 

Sheer, unbridled potential. Raw power on the brink of manifestation, just barely held back by an unknown force capable of reducing such world altering powers into the confines of a small demon’s body. 

Han Yoojin, Hyeonje would later learn from stray demons he'd manage to capture. Oldest son of two. Current crown prince to the demon realm, with a rather unusual reputation. 

Yoojin’s gaze singled out Hyeonje’s form hovering in the thundering skies above them. Despite tears running down the demon’s cheeks amidst the downpour of rain, his dark eyes were clear. 

Pure, unadulterated hatred directed straight at him. And unlike before, power radiated from Yoojin in frightening waves. 

Exhilarated, Hyeonje answered with one of his brightest smiles. 

Not that he got very far, trying to sink his teeth into the newly awakened demon. A powerful burst of mana swept across the field, pushing Hyeonje back and killing countless other humans in a single, effortless swoop. It forced Hyeonje to retreat with the little number of people he could still gather—it'd do him no good if he alone were to emerge from the gate, the non-existent blood of his fallen comrades persistently clinging to his uniform. 

He had a reputation to maintain in his homeland, after all. 

For years, Hyeonje dreamed of encountering the little demon again. He dreamed of the mana he merely got a small taste of, capable of clashing with his own. A battle that'd finally satisfy the ever-hungry beast inside him. 

He'd emerge victorious, of course, after a long, drawn-out fight that would deplete even his mana reserves—and it'd earn Hyeonje the right to pick the crown prince as his spoils of war. 

He's so used to remembering Yoojin overflowing with mana at the cusp of his awakening that the current picture he makes—helpless and naked beneath him, tail tantalisingly curled around his thigh to give him a semblance of cover, distinctively lacking any kind of presence—catches him a little off guard. 

“I wanted to fight you properly this time,” Hyeonje admits, a little wistful. The crease between Yoojin's brow deepens with poorly hidden contempt. “Without anything standing in our way. Only after I've won would I have proven myself worthy of you. But this isn't so bad, either.”

Tracing the scar running down the majority of Yoojin's chest, it's not hard to guess where all that magnificent power went. 

It’s proof of Yoojin’s love, after all. 

“Perverted bastard,” Yoojin hisses, struggling uselessly against the chains now keeping him pinned to the luxurious sheets of his own bed. “I should have killed you back then!”

Hyeonje smiles pleasantly. “And neglect your little brother instead? I'm flattered, Your Majesty, but that doesn’t quite sound like you.”

Yoojin snarls.

Hyeonje doesn't dislike this version of Yoojin; stripped of his former title, power, and pride. Really, he doesn't. If anything, this makes Yoojin more appealing in the way soft, fragile things are. Tempting Hyeonje with thoughts of taking care of him, spoiling him rotten until he wants for nothing, well aware that with a snap of his finger, he could break him just as easily. 

This Yoojin is a version that would depend on him. 

Hyeonje takes off his heavy coat and drapes it on the nearby chair. Gaze fixated solely on Yoojin, he tugs off his gloves with his teeth, then starts undoing his uniform, one button at a time. Anticipation thrums just beneath his skin. Once his chest is bare, he gets onto the mattress, dipping it with his weight. 

Yoojin looks—is—small underneath him. The way he's staring at Hyeonje, like he doesn't know what he's going to do despite Hyeonje having made his intentions very clear by now, isn't doing him any favours. 

Hyeonje splays his hand over Yoojin's stomach once more, feels the way it quivers beneath his touch. 

“Show me,” he demands with soft urgency. 

Yet Yoojin refuses, stubbornly averting his gaze. Hyeonje hums. There’s a certain amount of leeway he's willing to give, but his patience after years of waiting for an opportunity to enter the demon realm again is drawing thin. 

The mana he’s constantly expending to stabilise his form is another reminder he doesn't have as much time as he wishes. It’s less about the duration he’s able to stay in the demon realm—he has more than enough for a week—and more so about Yoojin’s little brother hurrying back at this moment in time at undoubtedly record breaking speed. 

Maybe Hyeonje shouldn’t have disappeared so quickly after coming through the gate, but he'd been uncharacteristically impatient after learning Yoojin wasn’t present.

Hyeonje’s eyes settle into a half-lidded stare, tinged with wry amusement. “If you don't want to, that's quite alright—let's see how much of me you can take.”

With that, he beckons wisps of crackling mana into his hand and starts pouring it inside Yoojin. The reaction is immediate. Like a dam on the verge of overflowing, Yoojin thrashes beneath him, limbs kicking and flailing as best as they can within their chains at the uncontrolled amount of energy suddenly crashing into him. 

Hyeonje leans down, enraptured by the glimpses of gold peeking through Yoojin's skin. “Convert it,” he says. “We both know what'll happen if you don't.”

It only takes a fraction of Hyeonje’s mana until Yoojin yields, dissimilating and rearranging the energy inside him with laboured breaths. 

When Hyeonje pulls his hand away, a symbol sits low on Yoojin’s stomach—Crescent Moon's chains lovingly intertwine before spreading out. The aberration of a heart shimmers golden with leftover residues of Hyeonje's mana; proof that Yoojin is very much capable of reproduction despite being male. 

Seems like his teachers didn't just spout nonsense after one drink too many. Hyeonje hums, satisfaction coiling deep like a snake as he recalls all of their other tall-sounding tales. 

“Happy?” Yoojin grits out. 

He's flushed, body still trembling from the aftershock. A consequence from having to convert too much mana in too little time inside of a vessel that simply didn’t have the capacity required. A thin layer of sweat covers Yoojin’s entire body, and it takes a considerable amount of willpower to not take his rightful place between Yoojin’s legs and make use of that seal already. 

It’s impressive enough Yoojin managed in the first place, with his body being as weak as it is. 

Perhaps the little demon can take more than he thought. 

“You have quite the mouth on you,” Hyeonje says, choosing to sit next to the bound Yoojin and staring down at him. “Should I start with that?” He grips Yoojin's chin firmly, lets his eyes roam across the demon's body, “there's an abundance of choices for me to indulge in.”

A heaving chest with pink nipples, a flat abdomen, slim hips crowned with his golden mark. Even the curve of Yoojin’s small horns entices Hyeonje to reach out and touch. A deeper flush has already started spreading from the demon’s face downward, undoubtedly not used to being regarded in such a manner, and Hyeonje smiles, reaching for the tantalising jut of collarbones with his fingers. 

He traces the shape of them—the line of Yoojin's clavicle, throat, chin. Hyeonje tips it upwards and enjoys the sight of a throat bared just for him.

Yoojin’s adam apple bops once. He'd look very pretty with marks of teeth, Hyeonje decides. 

“Just—just get it over with,” Yoojin presses out, the glare in his eyes ever-present despite his situation. 

Hyeonje remains silent. He swings a leg over Yoojin, fully caging him in and noses the soft throat still presented to him, inhaling deeply. Fear mixed with anger. Faint swirls of unwilling arousal. Underneath it all—vanilla, with subtle tones of something more refreshing, something naturally sweet. Peaches? 

Laving his tongue across the skin is a natural decision. It coaxes a hiss from Yoojin, his back arching slightly in mild surprise, and Hyeonje slips a hand underneath his waist to support him. He leisurely toys with the base of his tail, pulls him closer in the same breath to chase more of that addictive flavour.

 A dessert, made just for him.

“Didn’t know demons could taste so sweet,” Hyeonje rumbles into Yoojin, his teeth grazing heated flesh. He can’t resist a small nibble here and there, gestures which quickly turn into open-mouthed kisses. "Are you an exception? Makes me wonder where else I should try.”

“H-How about you hurry up instead?”

Yoojin’s eyes are drilling holes into the back of his head where he's taking his sweet time marking up Yoojin’s throat, not unlike the first time they made eye-contact. 

“There's no need—hahhh—for any of this. So if you'd just—” Arriving at the junction of Yoojin’s neck, Hyeonje bites down hard. 

Yoojin gasps at the sudden burst of sweet pain. Hyeonje hides a deranged smile in the crook of Yoojin’s neck, inhaling the fascinating blend of his scent. 

A warning, as much as a promise. 

“I highly advise against rushing me, Your Highness,” Hyeonje whispers. “Please do be careful what you wish for.”

He pulls away to inspect his newest gift, blooming dark red against Yoojin’s pale skin. Even if the demon possessed accelerated healing abilities, a mana-induced bite like that still takes a while to heal, especially if it matches the source of his mark. Hyeonje's gonna leave a nice, little present for the young master of this realm to come home to. 

Yoojin growls at him. 

“Patience,” Hyeonje reminds, “I'll give you my cock soon enough.”

Yoojin flushes a pretty shade of red at his blunt remark, tail curling into itself. 

“Just do it. There's no need to… ” He breaks off, and something desperate begins to cling to his words. 

Hyeonje cocks his head, smelling blood in the waters. “There's no need for me to take my time with you?” He thumbs the edge of Yoojin’s lips, takes note of how raw he's bitten them ever since he was captured. “No need to lavish you with all of my attention, Your Highness?”

“Don't call me that. I'm not—”

Hyeonje swiftly interrupts, “But I like it. The title suits you—Your Highness. Royalty and authority, befitting of a ruler.”

It speaks for itself that Yoojin doesn’t have a snarky retort ready. He’s hiding his expression beneath his fringe, choosing to tug at Hyeonje's chains once more in lieu of an answer that is just as obvious. 

Hyeonje slots this reaction into the ever growing pile of information about Yoojin inside his head. Knowing there's nowhere for Yoojin to go, Hyeonje resumes his journey down Yoojin’s neck, biting and sucking everywhere he can. Yoojin’s chest is particularly enticing—pert nipples are begging for his attention, already hard from the unwilling arousal Hyeonje subjects him to. 

Hyeonje thinks of taking one into his mouth, thinks of how Yoojin’s back would arch, pushing more of his chest into Hyeonje’s greedy mouth. Yoojin’s already so sensitive, it wouldn't be a farfetch to say his chest would match.

And even if they weren't, he’d play with them to his heart's content until they were. Have Yoojin on his lap, firm arms wrapped around him while his mouth stays firmly attached to his breasts. 

Hyeonje's tongue darts out to wet his lips. There's so much he wants to do with so little time available—not if he plans to make good on his promise. A shame, really. For now, he’ll give Yoojin what he so desperately wants.

Hyeonje snaps his fingers. His chains move Yoojin around and press his upper body down into the bed, all while keeping his hips high. It forces his back into a rather lewd arch. Yoojin yelps with embarrassment, trying to cover his hole with his tail. 

Hyeonje wouldn't mind coming home to this, his little demon bent over the bed and already stretched out for him. Perhaps he’d walk in during the middle of Yoojin’s preparation, too, leisurely leaning against the doorframe while Yoojin fucks himself open with his tail, nose buried in one of Hyeonje's coats. 

Hyeonje’s personal reward for tolerating the theatre of court politics and the grasping, greedy hands behind them. 

He easily moves Yoojin’s tail out of the way and runs an appreciative hand over the slope of his ass. Fingers digging into the supple flesh, he pulls it open to reveal a fluttering hole, already glistening with evident arousal. Slick would look nice on his gloves, Hyeonje muses.

A part of him mourns that he took them off. His little demon would have surely liked it. 

Yoojin hisses, hips bucking once to get away from him, but doesn't say anything otherwise. 

“You're awfully quiet now,” Hyeonje murmurs, thumb dangerously close to Yoojin’s hole. His tongue itches for another taste. “I very much doubt it’s a sign of obedience.”

Yoojin cracks a hoarse laugh. “You're finally getting somewhere. I wouldn't, nghh—want to interrupt."

“Now, now. You must be aware that saying things like that just makes one want to do the opposite,” Hyeonje softly chides. “You have a younger, spoiled brother. Surely he hasn’t always been as well behaved as he is now.”

Yoojin bites back, “You'd be surprised. You know nothing about me or my brother.”

How could you, when you killed him? 

Hyeonje clicks his tongue, the strands of his patience growing thinner. He clasps the back of Yoojin's neck, applying just enough pressure to make his disappointment known. His other hand spreads Yoojin’s hole open, two fingers playing with the soft rim. 

“I know enough. You'll be begging for my cock in just a few minutes, crying for it again and again as I work you open.” He pushes two fingers in, slowly, steadily, but without any remorse. He hears the little stutters in Yoojin's breath when he brushes past his prostate, and when he does it again. “You will want me to fill you up until you can't take it anymore and then some, because you're a greedy, little demon only satisfied with cock. Isn't that so?”

Hyeonje murmurs close to Yoojin's ear, emphasising his words with a sharp jab directly at his sweet spot. Yoojin cries out. His hips snap forward, but Hyeonje’s grip forces him to stay in the exact same place without any room to give or take.

“No!” Yoojin's tail wraps around Hyeonje’s wrist in a pitiful attempt to pull him away. 

“Admit it,” Hyeonje murmurs. “Say you want my cock, and I might just give it to you early.”

He’s unbelievably hard himself. If he weren't so intent on breaking Yoojin in, he might have given into temptation a long time ago.

Yoojin whines, his cock practically drooling with pre-cum. When Hyeonje squeezes around his throat, more follows, quickly staining the sheets below them. 

 “Fuck. Hah—I can’t, ngghh. Please.”

“You can,” Hyeonje says. “Look at how wet you are.”

Keeping his hand on Yoojin’s neck, he resumes a steady rhythm, pushing his fingers in and out of Yoojin's slick hole. Yoojin’s tight enough for Hyeonje to struggle putting another finger in, even after already having spent quite some time working him open with two.

He toys with Yoojin’s rim to give him a short moment of respite. Tracing the fluttering shape of it, he smears some of his slick around, chuckling when Yoojin whines in protest. Unable to resist, Hyeonje dips down to lap a stripe up his ass—surprisingly sweet. 

“What are you—!” Yoojin wheezes. A shudder goes through his entire body when Hyeonje drags his tongue across him once more, directly over his cute little hole. 

“Not there. Ahh! Stop, wait—"

“No need to be shy,” Hyeonje hungrily says between flicks of his tongue. “You taste lovely.”

“That's not—fuck. Okay just, please, anything else! Please, nghh! ”

It's not quite what Hyeonje wants to hear, but it's a vague improvement. He pulls away, rewards Yoojin with another finger instead of his tongue. He’s hotter inside than before. For the first time, Hyeonje wonders if Yoojin, demon as he is, can even take him after four. 

He looks down on the naked, flushed back of the demon and remembers how that waist fits his hand a little too easily. 

The thought of Yoojin struggling to take him in shouldn't arouse Hyeonje as much as it does. Yoojin’s a drooling mess on his bed, little oh’s and ah’s forced out of him with every snap of his arm—and judging from how sticky the sheets below him are, Yoojin must have cum at least once already. 

Ah, Hyeonje thinks. Seems like he lost track of time, all of his thoughts centred on Yoojin yet still drifting away. 

He gradually pulls all of his fingers out, teasingly pressing against Yoojin’s walls on their way back. Empty once more, he watches Yoojin’s hole clench around nothing, tempting him to push some of the leaking slick back inside.

“Messy,” Hyeonje observes. He spreads Yoojin's ass open to admire his work. “You’re drooling from both of your holes. Do you need me to plug up your front, too?”

He forces the small window between Yoojin’s quivering thighs to open and reaches through it to play with the base of Yoojin’s cock. It fits well in his hand, a twitching mess that reflects its owner perfectly, already half-hard again. He'll have to take it into his mouth some time, lick and suck until Yoojin can't help himself and inevitably starts fucking into his mouth. 

Yoojin whimpers.

“Won’t you talk to me, Your Highness?” Hyeonje purrs, voice husky with arousal. 

He will punish Yoojin for coming without permission another time. For now, he releases Yoojin's cock and adds four fingers into his hole. He keeps them inside for a while, motionless, and doesn't do anything else as Yoojin’s shivering body gets used to being stretched out beyond its limits. 

“H-Hyeonje–ssi,” Yoojin eventually pants, and doesn't he sound so sweet, gasping and writhing in his hold after having been played with for so long? “Please—!”

“One orgasm is enough to have you pliant, hm?”

Yoojin gasps. He vehemently shakes his head a second later. “Not true!”

“Be honest,” Hyeonje says, kissing flushed shoulder blades. “You were so polite, calling my name like that. I could keep you like this for hours, you know?”

And he means it. He underlines each word with a tender grind into his prostate, heart skipping a beat at every moan Yooji fails to bite back. His voice is lovely, pitched high and strung tight with pleasure of his making. The muscles in Hyeonje's arm strain with the effort not to just fuck his fingers into Yoojin without abandon. 

Hyeonje's rambling, just a little. “Only using my fingers to get you off. Nothing else. I’ll start with one, and add another every half an hour or so. Have you coming just from my fingers until your knees give out and I need to hold you up by your tail. But that wouldn't be enough for you, would it?”

“... it wouldn't,” Yoojin pants, agreeing. 

Hyeonje purrs, gratification coating his words sugar sweet. “Yes, it wouldn't be enough. You need a cock inside you to be happy. A nice, big cook that can fill you and plug you up in the same breath.”

Yoojin moans out loud at that, his stubborn resolve finally cracking at the thought of being properly bred. It’s endearing, seeing him thrust back on his fingers, feeling the tight heat of his hole clenching with every undulation of his hips. 

If Yoojin had a pair of wings—thin but sturdy, like the rest of him—they’d be just as much of a shivering mess, folding and unfolding, too agitated by pleasure to settle properly into one position. 

Hyeonje would have loved to hold them, just like Yoojin's tail. 

“Yes, I want it—want your cock. Please, I need it so bad.” If it weren't for Hyeonje’s chains, Yoojin would be reaching for his weeping cock, or perhaps even the mark on his abdomen.

Hyeonje wonders how much heat he feels from there. If it’s similar to his own, threatening to consume him from the inside out if he doesn't do anything about it soon. 

His smile is all teeth. “Good boy.”

He dismisses his chains holding Yoojin in place and drags him closer by his hips, manoeuvring him onto his back again. 

As cute as it is to see Yoojin’s tail thrashing around, tempting him to play with it just like before, Hyeonje wants to see his face.

Yoojin doesn't disappoint—he looks thoroughly fucked, eyelashes wet and hair tousled. Volatile constellations of marks litter his upper body, a canvas Hyeonje painted with his own teeth and tongue. 

It's a sight only triumphed by the look of surprise in Yoojin’s eyes when he finally releases his cock from the confines of his slacks—it's throbbing and flushed an angry shade of red, a testament to how much he’s been holding back. Held down by its own weight, he lays his cock onto Yoojin’s, burying it beneath his own. 

The tip reaches past his golden mark, a little above Yoojin’s belly button. 

Deep enough to reach his womb, Hyeonje's mind gleefully supplies. Another wave of heat kindles the burning embers inside his stomach into a wildfire, causing his hips to buck forward once.

Patience, Hyeonje sharply reminds himself, the edges of his vision blurry with the sheer depth of his want. You already have him. Just a little more. 

“That's—” Yoojin laugh tapers into something close to hysterical. Seems like some of the magic has been broken at the sight of Hyeonje’s cock. “That's not going to fit.”

Hyeonje hooks a leg over his shoulder, aligns their hips better; a key to its lock. 

“How can you say that when you haven't even tried?” He bemusedly asks. 

He’s rutting their cocks together now, back and forth in a slow, controlled pace, made easy with how wet they both are. It’s a sensation driving him more mad than anything, but Yoojin’s wide-eyed expression is too cute not to rile up some more.

“I just know it doesn't! There's no way, hahhh, not physically. You're not—hhngh! You’re—stop thrusting, you harlot!”

“I'm what, now?”

“Definitely no—aahhhh—h-human,” Yoojin pants, and Hyeonje can't help but laugh. 

He's heard that accusation in a variety of contexts, but Yoojin's might just be his favourite.

“It's alright.” Hyeonje drapes Yoojin’s other leg onto his shoulder and leans over the demon, pulling Yoojin close until his thighs are propping up Yoojin’s lower body. The new position folds Yoojin nearly in half—not quite a mating press yet since Hyeonje’s not leaning his full weight into Yoojin, though something close to it. The little demon trembles in his hold, his hands clawing at Hyeonje's arms and shoulders to push him away. 

They don’t do any damage, but Hyeonje quite likes the intention. 

“If I break you, I'll take good care of you. Put you back together, and then we can try again, until I carved out a big enough space inside of you for me to fit in. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

It does to him. The idea of ruining Yoojin for everyone else is terribly appealing. 

Hyeonje’s control over his facial expressions must be slipping, because Yoojin’s eyes widen further, palpable fear breaking through the haze of lust when their eyes meet. Hyeonje presses his thumbs into the sensitive little space below Yoojin’s hip bones, and then pushes the first inch of his cock inside.

Yoojin immediately clamps down hard around him. 

Hyeonje groans softly. He’s more sensitive than he thought, but it makes sense with how much he’s been teasing both Yoojin and himself. Putting a little more force into his hips, he drowns out Yoojin’s repeated cries of no, no, please, gradually feeding more of his cock into him. As expected, even after four fingers, Yoojin barely lets him in. 

“Your Highness,” Hyeonje quietly says, “you're very, very tight. Please relax for just a moment.”

“I told you to stop calling me that, ” Yoojin pants, just barely able to scramble his words together. ”Hahhh. S-slow down, you’re, fuck, you're—ngggh, huge—”

The sudden urge of simply ignoring Yoojin's pleas and burying himself to the hilt is visceral. He knows Yoojin will cry out so prettily, trembling with the effort to adjust to Hyeonje's size inside of him in such a short time frame. 

Hyeonje might not let him. Yoojin might not be able to. 

Hyeonje bites the inside of his lips bloody to reel at least some of his desires in. Reminds himself that Yoojin is far from sturdy, that he likes this, too—the slow drag of his cock along walls clenching so tightly around him it almost hurts. The flicker of hope in Yoojin’s eyes that has already diminished rapidly, betrayed every time Hyeonje sinks another inch deeper.

It’s addicting. The adrenaline inside of Hyeonje fuels his deranged thoughts and paints pictures of Yoojin’s body in a variety of states he could leave him in.

Hyeonje exhales sharply, feels his composure crumbling the deeper he goes. He’s about halfway in now, and Yoojin’s downright crying beneath him. 

His eyes are red and swollen, glistening with the tears already shed. Completely and utterly overwhelmed at how much of Hyeonje is inside of him. 

He does not look like a former crown prince. 

Hyeonje feels the corners of his mouth lifting with excitement, and stops the exuberant push of his hips for just a moment.

“I'm halfway in” he cordially murmurs, catching some of Yoojin’s tears with his tongue. “We just need to stay like this for a while, hm?”

“H-halfway?” Yoojin croaks out. With a trembling hand, he reaches for his stomach, the glowing mark making the slight distention beneath it more visible. His eyes catch sight of the part of Hyeonje’s cock still outside of him, and his brows furrow, like he’s having a hard time putting one and one together. “But, I’m—nghhh. I-I'm, already so full?”

Hyeonje’s cock twitches. Yoojin whimpers in response, arms curling around Hyeonje’s neck to steady himself. There's no way Yoojin doesn't know what he sounds and looks like, saying things like these, does he? 

Hyeonje coos, “Please rest assured, Your Highness. I will take good care of you and our children.”

A look of panic crosses Yoojin’s face, but it's mellow, edges softened through Hyeonje’s efforts. 

“Wait, what are you—nghhhh!?”

With a single thrust, Hyeonje pushes the rest of his cock inside Yoojin. 

There's resistance along the way—four fingers weren't enough, after all—but Hyeonje’s given him more than enough time, so he pushes and doesn't stop until Yoojin's hole simply gives under the relentless pressure. 

Yoojin cries out loud. There are too many things happening at once for Hyeonje to take everything in, and he's entirely too distracted at how good Yoojin's insides feel. So warm and wet and tight. Unfiltered, raw pleasure clouds his mind rapidly, pulls him deeper into the mist. It's not until Yoojin’s body is wrecked with small, consecutive hiccups that Hyeonje’s vision clears a little. 

Looking down, he sees the cum splattered on Yoojin’s stomach. Hyeonje doesn’t know whether to be mad that Yoojin came again, or be pleased that all it took was to fill him with his cock. 

Finally, Hyeonje thinks. I can make him mine. He is mine. 

Yoojin already looks the part. Debauched and helplessly speared open on Hyeonje’s cock, all Yoojin can do is hold onto the man and pray for an ending that isn’t in sight. “Look at you. Taking me so well,” Hyeonje purrs, breathless. “It's almost like you're, hah, made for this.”

He sets a slow rhythm of pulling out, then slamming back in. Yoojin’s voice breaks pitifully at the growing force behind his thrusts, so unlike the gentle lilt of Hyeonje's voice.

“Hahh, ha—aah!”

Yoojin's cries fill the room. Hyeonje’s had outer body experiences before—when he was fighting outer world beings, adrenaline on the same level as the mana coursing through his veins, taking control of his limbs and pushing him to the maximum of his abilities and beyond.

This feels similar. He's pouring everything he has into his hold on Yoojin, into the snapping of his hips. Hyeonje couldn't stop now even if he wanted to, his mind chasing the continued high that comes with finally having the former demon prince in his grasp. 

It's rare for him to lose control like this. Hyeonje can’t really remember the last time he did, and the surge of annoyance at that has him pressing even closer to Yoojin, raising his hips higher. 

He’s got him in a proper mating press now.

Yoojin's barely moaning at this point, every little sound punched out of him cut short by brutal thrusts and the wet squelch that follows. He doesn't register Hyeonje leaning down to swallow what’s left of his voice, thick arms bracketing his head. 

The movements of their hips and general lack of coordination doesn’t make good foundations for a kiss, but Hyeonje likes the depravity of it. Likes licking along the seam of Yoojin’s swollen lips, likes plunging his tongue inside Yoojin’s mouth the same way he's drilling his cock into that blistering heat, his tip kissing the entrance to Yoojin's womb. 

Hyeonje’s eyes feverishly track the way Yoojin’s stomach bulges with his cock, skin pulling the golden mark with it. 

How could he ever stop when Yoojin feels made for him?

With his head buried in the crook of Yoojin's neck and Yoojin clinging to him, voluntarily or not, he's physically unable to. 

Yoojin's hole beckons whenever he pulls out even a little and squeezes sinfully whenever he’s fully inside, pelvis meeting the reddening swell of Yoojin’s ass. Hyeonje's own orgasm is slowly but surely approaching, a tidal wave that’s been in the making ever since he first had Yoojin splayed out on his bed.

Hyeonje’s want to stay buried inside is only overshadowed by his need to finally make good of his promise. Fill Yoojin up to the brim. Repeat the process until it's leaking out, then push in some more until Yoojn's belly starts swelling with his seed, give him a litter of kids to take care of. 

The thought sets the last of Hyeonje’s coherence ablaze. Hips thrusting downwards without abandon, his ardent, feverish gaze remains solely focused on Yoojin below him.

Eyes rolled back, Yoojin is sobbing, lost in his own little world. Hyeonje doesn't mind. He's very much the same; entirely single-minded in the pursuit of his goal. “I'm close,” he growls. “You've been taking me so well. Let me reward you by breeding you properly.” 

“.... Please,” is all Yoojin manages to get out between broken moans and sobs. “Want it, nghhhh, please, p-please!”

Hyeonje laughs. Feeling light-headed, he sits upright and digs his fingers into the imprints already visible on Yoojin's waist, pulling him in to meet his every thrust. A ragdoll of a former prince, all for him to cherish and covet and use. 

“Are you ready, Your Highness?”

Hyeonje's orgasm crashes into him, fierce and unyielding. He nearly topples over, grip faltering on Yoojin, but manages to keep upright in the last second. Hyeonje can only close his eyes, letting himself bask in the euphoria of pumping Yoojin full after all this time—and he has a lot to give. 

He saved up plenty for his little demon, after all. 

Still riding out the high of his orgasm, Hyeonje blearily opens his eyes. Yoojin's  cock is a pitiful, limp thing on his stomach, twitching and leaking clear fluid. Hyeonje absentmindedly traces his mark on Yoojin's wet stomach, the golden glow more intense now that it has been fed its first load. 

Yoojin moans weakly. 

“You did well, Your Highness,” Hyeonje purrs. He continues stroking, inspecting the bulge still present from where he's fully sheathed inside Yoojin. “Look at how pretty you are, full of my cock and seed.”

It suits him; it really does. Maybe Yoohyeon was right to keep him home. 

Hyeonje pulls out just enough to see his seed leak from where Yoojin's hole is obscenely stretched around the base of his cock. The sight is as fascinating as it is arousing, and with an exhilarated hum, he starts grinding back into him. 

He doesn't really pull out, just moves his hips in dirty, little grinds, like he's still trying to get deeper despite everything. He shudders at the way Yoojin's body clenches rapidly around him.

“Can't,” Yoojin weakly slurs. Even his tail is dead on the bed, twitching in time with his oversensitive cock. His arms are hanging limp above him, shoulders flushed, long having lost the strength to hold onto him, and Hyeonje's eyes track the lovely stretch of his armpits. An opportunity for next time, maybe. 

“I'm full—too full. No more, p-please.”

Hyeonje shudders bodily. “Ah,” he tuts. “Didn’t I tell you? If you beg me with such a sweet voice, I'll just be tempted to do the opposite.” 

He coaxes Yoojin into a sloppy kiss, allowing the demon to mindlessly suckle on his tongue. Cute. Going by his slack, fucked-out expression, Yoojin's moving on pure instinct now—not many thoughts left in that smart little head of his. 

Hyeonje can't help himself. He’s insatiable, and after finally tasting what he's been wanting for so long, his voracity only seems to be growing. His slow grinding turns into thrusts, deep and insistent. He's not fully hard yet, but it wouldn't take long with how Yoojin sounds and looks beneath him, still teetering on the edge of overstimulation. 

“Hyeonje-ssi!” There can't be any ounce of strength left in Yoojin, and yet the pitiful curl of his body tells Hyeonje that he's trying to escape from the brutal onslaught of sensations. Still fighting, even after Hyeonje had him coming plenty on his cock. 

Of course his little demon wouldn’t be satisfied with just one round. Hyeonje would need to work much harder. 

“Your Highness,” he says, quiet adoration in his tone, and it's entirely too easy, simply dragging Yoojin back onto his cock with a definitive pull. 

Yoojin's mouth opens—too sudden. A silent scream, followed by a weak twitch of his cock. More fluid leaks out on both fronts, and Hyeonje stifles a moan.

His Yoojin feels like bliss poured straight into his brain.

“We're not done yet. You wanted an heir—so I have to make sure you give you one. Fill you up a few more times before I have to leave, until you've been thoroughly and properly bred. We—mhhmm—can't have anything else, can we? Your Highness.”

Yoojin whines. Hyeonje’s ceaseless barrage of sweet, dirty words taking more of an effect on him than he’d like. 

“Yes,” Hyeonje hisses, golden eyes tracking and burning every little detail of Yoojin beneath him into his memory. “I have to make sure to give it my all and properly satisfy you.”

If it were up to Hyeonje, he'd have Yoojin coming on his cock for the rest of the night. It’s when he’s got Yoojin bend over the side of the bed, lazily grabbing his tail to leverage thrusting into him for the fourth round that evening that he senses a very powerful, very angry presence rapidly approaching. 

About time. 

It’s a good thing Hyeonje’s finely attuned to reading mana signatures over long distances, or else he might have to fight in his current state of undress. He could take Yoohyeon on despite having burned through a day’s worth of mana, but he wouldn’t want to risk Yoojin getting caught in the crossfire between them. 

He would, preferably, also spare Yoojin a second heartbreak.

Hyeonje clicks his tongue. This would be much easier if he could simply collar Yoojin and take the little demon home with him, but alas. 

They've been working on that already. 

Hyeonje tucks his cock back inside his pants, already mourning Yoojin's warmth. After cleaning up and tepidly putting a semblance of his earlier appearance together, he takes his abandoned coat from the chair and drapes it over Yoojin. It hides most of the damage done as long as Yoojin doesn’t move, and it makes for quite an endearing sight. 

It’s just like Hyeonje wanted—he made a nice gift for Yoohyeon to unwrap. 

He presses a kiss to the crown of Yoojin’s head, right between his small set of horns. “I apologise for leaving you like this,” he says in earnest, cradling a tired, flushed face with his gloved hand. Unclear eyes blink at him. If Hyeonje had more time, he’d have drawn Yoojin a nice bath, rubbed and scrubbed him clean and massaged his feet. Lavish him with kisses until he turns red with all the attention; redder than any amount of fucking would get him.

“You deserve better than this, but you had me very distracted, Your Highness.” Hyeonje nuzzles into his neck. “Please forgive this lowly human. I vow to make it up to you once we meet again.”

“Hah,” Yoojin croaks. “I will—I will be sure to kill you then.”

His voice is as battered up as his body is, but the message comes across clear.

“Is that so?”

Because resisting is very, very hard when Yoojin’s like this—needlessly defiant until the very end, maybe Hyeonje truly didn’t fuck him hard enough—Hyeonje steals another kiss from him. He just barely avoids a weak, but clearly vicious bite from Yoojin, teasing the latter with a cheerful smile.

“I'll be looking forward to it.” 

Yoojin’s too weak to move from his position under Hyeonje’s coat, but Hyeonje hears him cursing hoarsely until he’s out of the door. Hyeonje inhales deeply. Except for the scent of demon blood permeating everything, the air out in the hallway is clean.

With profound satisfaction settled deep in the marrow of his bones, Hyeonje makes his way out of the castle. 

It’s about time he pays Doctor White a visit.