He rolled his hips down, pressing hard, letting Haneul feel every inch of him—solid, ready, a promise and a threat all at once.
“You want me to throw you?” A slow, predatory smile.
He pressed lower, breath hot against Haneul’s cheek.
“Then remember it wasyouridea when you’re crawling by dawn”
Haneul threw his head back, laughing—not a giggle but a war-cry, a shriek of undiluted joy, neck arched, teeth bared, face luminous with madness.
“More!!! Do it again!!! Put me upside down—*don’t go soft—*PLEAAAAASEEEEE!”
Seungho felt something break. His control. His composure. Maybe his soul.
“Upside down?” he echoed, deadpan.
“YES!”
A heartbeat. Then—he moved.
Hands braced under Haneul’s thighs, Seunghoflippedhim, hard, the world spinning, Haneul’s robe flying up, legs shooting over his head, back arching as he was hoisted up, balanced across the king’s shoulder, ass to the sky, hair trailing on the floor, laughter echoing like a storm.
He held him there, one arm around the waist, the other gripping a thigh, savoring the sight—the wild, beautiful, impossible boy grinning upside down, mouth open, body trembling not with fear but with rapture.
He spanked him.
Once.
Loud. Sharp. Perfect.
“HEY!!!” Haneul shrieked, face blazing crimson, blood rushing to his cheeks, eyes wide in astonishment and confusion.
Seungho growled, voice wrecked and hungry and equally confused:
“Still think this is a game?”
Haneul twisted, kicking, trying to wriggle free, but the king’s grip tightened, iron and velvet, unbreakable.
His cock was now trapped against Seungho’s shoulder, every inch of him vibrating between laughter and heat and something wilder.
“You said ‘don’t go soft,’” Seungho hissed, tongue sliding slow and filthy up the inside of Haneul’s thigh, savoring the taste of frost and sweat through the fabric, the wild quiver of muscle and magic.
“I won’t.”
He bit—soft, claiming, at the place where thigh met ass, a mark left in secret.
“HEY!!!!” Haneul shouted, voice suddenly shrill, all bravado and play gone. “What the f—what the FUCK are you doing??!!!”
The struggle turned. Not performance. Not theater. Real. Panic—pure and electric—lit up the boy’s wild eyes. “I said throw me around—not… whatever you’re d—HEY!!!” He twisted, robe slipping up, braid a wild lash of silver and gold, lungs working too fast with something rawer than anger. “LOOK AT ME!!!!”
Seungho froze, hands still on the trembling body, breath caught mid-surge.
“I am a MAN!!!!!! Like you!!!!!” Haneul snarled, fists punching at Seungho’s thighs—wild, offbeat, desperate. And then, with the force of a wolf protecting a broken limb, hebitthe Fire King’s knee—hard.
Seungho’s body bucked. He nearly lost grip. Haneul kicked, breath ragged, a string of curses tangled in the shuddering air, and magic sparked in little flares of blue and white, frantic, defensive, alive.
And Seunghosawit.
Not shame.
