“Cock cock cock!!! I’m gonna say it as much as I fucking want!!!”
The word shattered the stillness, bouncing from marble to gold to silk, ringing out like a battle cry. Haneul stood there, panting, red-faced, lips wet, chest bare and shining, arms thrown wide as if challenging the whole world to smite him.
Seungho moved.
Not fast, but with the unstoppable gravity of a landslide.
He lunged, grabbed Haneul by the waist, and hoisted him clear off his feet with a guttural growl. Haneul’s eyes went wide, his legs kicked, but he was weightless in the king’s hands—overpowered, but not outmatched, only outnumbered by his own chaos.
The next second, Haneul was flat on his back on the feasting table—plates rattling, cups tipping, sleeves twisted under him, hair splayed in a corona of wildness. The king’s body loomed over him, shadow and fire and will, voice rumbling just above his lips:
“Then let me show you what that word means—”
Seungho’s mouth brushed Haneul’s jaw, the gentlest touch in a world of threat.
“—and see how long you last without moaning it.”
??????
Haneul’s whole body jerked. The table shuddered under his sudden weight, tea spilling, meat sliding to the floor in forgotten clumps.
“F—GET OFF ME!!” Haneul bellowed, twisting and writhing with a strength that defied his battered body. Frost crackled up his spine, the lacquered table groaning as the grain froze solid beneath his bare skin.
“You OVERSIZED GRIZZLY BEAR—!” His heel slammed into Seungho’s thigh, hard enough to bruise. The king grunted, grinned—still looming, still unmoved.
“—you STEAMY—BASTARD!!!”
Seungho arched a brow, voice low, sardonic: “‘Steamy?’”
Haneul froze—just for an instant, realizing the word had escaped him. His face twisted in new outrage. “I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO SEE YOURCOCK!!!!”
And then—he lunged upward, fangs bared, clawing at Seungho’s face with hands like a snow leopard cub possessed by rage and panic. His nails scratched a red line across the king’s jaw. He snapped his teeth at the king’s throat, breath cold and wild, skin radiant with adrenaline.
Seungho caught his wrist, then the other, pinning Haneul’s hands to the table above his head—firm, unyielding, but never cruel.
“You started this, Sky,” Seungho growled, eyes flashing with the threat of heat. “You screamed it in my halls. You mocked it in my face.”
His mouth hovered too close — but he did not press in.
“You don’t get to pretend you don’t know why that matters.”
That was the wrong phrasing — and he knew it the moment it left his mouth.
Because Haneul didn’t go coy.
He detonated.
Not like a breaking plate, but like a god going nova—like the boy they’d tried to mold into a weapon, the demon they’d caged, the storm-born orphan who never learned surrender, all erupting at once.
He thrashed—wild, animal, ferocious.
The world tilted. Frost exploded from beneath his body, running up the table, swirling in the air, snowdust caught in the firelight.
His wrists twisted against Seungho’s grip, bones sharp, sinew taut, never yielding. His teeth snapped again, this time at Seungho’s forearm, a warning, a plea, a last defense.
“LET GO OF ME—!”
His voice split the air, a curse and a prayer, veins glowing white-blue beneath sweat-streaked skin.
