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Hongjoong bit his lower lip, rolling it anxiously between his teeth. Around him, the faint clatter of his attendants rang through the room. A strand of his hair flopped down out of its careful style, and he tucked it back up under his circlet.
This was fine. Everything was fine, and under control, and his breathing was normal, and he was going to survive the next twenty-four hours.
“Your highness,” someone said from behind him. Not a voice he recognized. One of his, then. “The ceremony begins in fifteen minutes.”
“Understood,” Hongjoong replied stiffly, and tugged at the neckline of his formalwear. It was all white, and starched. Not his design, of course. There hadn’t been time, even if he’d wanted to.
The fifteen minutes seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and before Hongjoong knew it, he was staring down the carpeted aisle of the small chapel inside the palace. The eyes of the subdued crowd followed him.
Hongjoong’s parents stood near the front. His mother had tears tracking silently down her face. His father remained stony. Neither of them met his eyes. He understood why.
And then he was looking at him. Park Seonghwa. The arrogant king of their neighboring country, and the man who had, two weeks ago, breached the walls of the Capitol and strode into the throne room.
Hongjoong hadn’t been present when the deal was struck, of course. As an omega, he’d never stood to inherit the throne. Never stood to hold any real power. He’d found out about it after, from Wooyoung, when the other man had been helping him wash his hair. He would marry Park Seonghwa, and in return, his father would remain in power as Seonghwa’s regent. Their armies would be Seonghwa’s to call upon if he so chose.
He missed Wooyoung. When - it - had been inevitable, he’d sent the other man away. Out of the capitol, back to his hometown that had yet to see combat and hopefully never would.
“-until death do you part?”
He shook himself from his reverie. In front of him, Park Seonghwa regarded him with a cold gaze. The corner of his mouth ticked up slightly. It did not make him look happy. Hongjoong could feel his alpha scent, harsh on his nose, overwhelming in a way that confused him, surrounding them. “I do,” he managed.
Park Seonghwa answered the same. Hongjoong didn’t believe him.
He didn’t know if he’d hoped for their kiss to be perfunctory or not. It was, but the way Park Seonghwa reached out to hold Hongjoong’s jaw for it left little doubt who was in charge.
Hongjoong hated that he couldn’t bring himself to hate the other man for that.
***
Their wedding reception was… fine. Hongjoong was seated at Park Seonghwa’s right hand at the head of the table, his parents by his side and Soonghwa’s top two generals by him. The imposing men were quiet, stoic in a way that unsettled Hongjoong. Once again, he wished for Wooyoung’s comforting presence behind his shoulder.
Hongjoong could not have named a single thing that he ate. Halfway through the meal, his new husband’s hand landed on his leg.
Hongjoong watched a muscle in his father’s jaw tick and tried to act like the touch didn’t burn through his clothes.
“Is that enough?” Park Seonghwa asked him, leaning in closer. Hongjoong blinked down at his plate. He had a few different vegetables, which he’d pushed to the far outside on principle. A slice of chicken breast. A small cup of rice. A standard meal.
“I beg your pardon?” He asked, making sure not to make eye contact.
His husband sighed. “Is this what you typically eat?”
Hongjoong nodded.
“Three times a day, this? Anything else?”
His ears were flaming red by now. He could feel it. “Nothing else, Alpha.”
Park Seonghwa was radiating anger. Hongjoong shrunk back, not sure what he’d done wrong. “Dude,” whispered the one of his generals closer to him, nudging the man himself. Hongjoong was pretty sure his name was Yeosang. “Get your scent under control.”
He visibly reigned himself in. Hongjoong’s husband. His husband, who was angry. Hongjoong felt lightheaded.
“That isn’t enough to keep a child healthy,” he said, and Hongjoong squinted in confusion.
“It’s standard for royal omegas?” He said.
Park Seonghwa sighed and slid two pieces of chicken off of his own plate, onto Hongjoong’s. “Eat. We’ll work out more about it later.”
***
Once again, Hongjoong found himself wishing he had Wooyoung’s steady, brightening presence around him. More than ever, he wanted to know what his friend would say. What he’d tell Hongjoong to do.
He was seated at his vanity, in his bedroom, and opposite him was the bed, and next to him was the door that led to the hallway that would, at some point, contain Hongjoong’s husband. Coming to find him. In his bedroom.
He was distantly aware that he could feel his pulse in his ears. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but he was pretty sure one of his legs had fallen asleep.
What was Park Seonghwa like? What kind of man would he be in Hongjoong’s life? In his bed?
He was… unfailingly blunt, at least. Hongjoong would likely never have to question where he stood with him. He seemed to care about Hongjoong’s wellbeing, if the scene at the reception was anything to go by.
But he’d had blood streaked across his hands and his armor when he’d come striding through their gates, and his handsome face had been a mask of coldness when he’d spoken to Hongjoong’s father. Your kingdom and your son for your life, he’d said, and his gauntleted hand had left a brilliantly red print on Hongjoong’s fathers’ collar where Park Seonghwa had grabbed him. Hongjoong didn’t know whose blood it was, if any of the man’s own was mixed in.
The door opened, and he jumped. His leg, which had indeed fallen asleep under him, crumpled.
Park Seonghwa crossed the room in a flash, steadying Hongjoong against his strong chest. “Whoa,” he murmured, hands on Hongjoong’s hips, holding him still. Holding him close. “This is what happens when you’re not allowed to eat properly.”
Hongjoong huffed at him, not sure where he was getting the courage. He was probably channeling Wooyoung. “I still don’t know what you meant by that.” He froze; his disrespectful tone hung in the air. “Alpha,” he tried to soften it.
Park Seonghwa’s chest shook in a chuckle behind him. Hongjoong almost relaxed. “No need for that. Where I come from, omegas are regarded as just as capable of alphas and betas. I don’t understand the level of control you live under here. As my husband, you’ll have to maintain a certain level of strength. I’ll have someone talk to the kitchens about sorting a better meal plan for you. Do you know how to fight?”
“To fight,” Hongjoong repeated dumbly. With every word, Seonghwa’s breath ghosted across his neck. He had the distinct feeling that his knees were turning to jelly. “No, I don’t know how to fight.”
It felt like Seonghwa gripped him tighter for a moment, and the confusion sent a rush to Hongjoong’s head. “You’ll learn,” he said, the tone of a man who was accustomed to being obeyed immediately and absolutely.
Hongjoong extricated himself, struggling to balance on the still-tingling leg. “Why would you want me to learn how to fight? Aren’t you worried about me killing you?”
“Well,” Seonghwa said diplomatically. “I’m rather hoping that by the time you’re good enough to have a chance at killing me, you’ll be happier about this arrangement than you currently are.” His eyes crinkled in a smile. It softened his entire face, cracking his icy exterior. The frost of his scent melted, softening with tinges of woodsmoke.
Hongjoong kept talking. “I could kill you tonight.”
Seonghwa inclined his head. “You could certainly attempt to. You’d definitely change my plans for how the night went if you tried.”
Hongjoong wasn’t sure whether or not he should interpret that as a threat. The trepidation must have shown on his face.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Seonghwa promised him. “I want you as my husband. My right hand man. Not as my human incubator, like this place seems to expect of omegas.”
That was too much for Hongjoong to wrap his head around right now. He focused on the first part. “You’re not going to hurt me,” he said, skepticism clear.
Seonghwa nodded.
“And yet here you are, in my bedroom,” Hongjoong’s eyes raked over the other man’s form, “armed.”
“You have a good eye,” Seonghwa told him. He pulled the knife out of his boot holster and put it on the vanity.
Hongjoong arched an eyebrow, trying to keep his facial expression steady despite the fear thrumming through his veins, sending warmth shooting through him.
It felt powerful, having an alpha like Park Seonghwa obey him. “You expect me to believe that’s the only weapon you’re carrying?”
Two more knives hit the wooden surface. “Just the one in my arm holster now,” Seonghwa said softly. “I’d have to- if I pull my sleeve up to get it, it’ll uncover the pheromone glands on my wrist. I’m not sure you want that to happen.”
Hongjoong blinked at him. “What?”
One perfectly curved eyebrow arched. “Alpha pheromones?” Seonghwa repeated, like Hongjoong was dumb. “Freshly married pair?”
Hongjoong felt like there was cotton stuffing his mouth. His breath hitched. “What about it?”
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa murmured, stepping closer. “I want to mate you. Of course I want to mate you. And if I roll my sleeves up, those pheromones are going to hit you hard. You’ll start naturally responding.”
Hongjoong considered. The night was already going better than expected. He wasn’t naked yet, on the bed, crying in pain. He was, relatively speaking, fine. Seonghwa’s hand landed on his forearm, the touch sending a bolt of heat lancing through him. “Hongjoong,” he whispered.
Hongjoong kissed him.
It was like the dam holding Seonghwa back broke, and he rushed Hongjoong, pressing him up against the stone wall of the room. A muscled thigh slotted neatly between Hongjoong’s legs as Seonghwa ravaged his mouth, one hand in Hongjoong’s hair to guide his head wherever Seonghwa wanted him.
Seonghwa pulled back, grabbing Hongjoong’s chin and tilting it so Hongjoong was forced to meet his eyes. “Tell me you want this,” he said, voice low and forceful and making something turn to molten heat deep in Hongjoong’s belly.
“I want this,” he managed, and his robe was summarily torn from his shoulders, leaving him bare.
Seonghwa’s gaze burned across him even as his hands skated across Hongjoong’s skin, grabbing and moving, possessively roaming, and then they were moving again, Hongjoong being taken across the room and tossed down onto the bed.
He bounced once, awkwardly, before Seonghwa settled between his thighs and he froze. The man pressed heated kisses to his lips, body rolling expertly down to trap Hongjoong against the mattress. “I- please,” Hongjoong whimpered.
Seonghwa held the backs of his knees, pressing his legs upward and exposing him, making Hongjoong gasp as cool air rushed over him. He squirmed, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but was held steadily in place. “Beautiful,” Seonghwa murmured, tracing his fingers over Hongjoong.
He leaned back on his heels to peel his own shirt off, and the forearm holster that had started it all was revealed, a beautifully formed knife in it. Seonghwa pulled it out, long fingers twining around the handle with a practiced air. Twin waves of fear and arousal hit Hongjoong at the same time, leaving him dizzy and reeling, something which was so obviously evident in his scent.
Seonghwa froze where he was, a slow smile beginning to spread across his face. Unlike the one he’d had at the altar, this one was playful. Inviting. “Oh, you like that, huh?”
Hongjoong shook his head, resolutely closing his eyes so Seonghwa couldn’t see the truth in them.
The immediate amused chuckle that elicited shouldn’t have made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside. “You don’t like it?”
He shook his head.
“So you wouldn’t like it if I-“ and Seonghwa trailed off just as skin-warmed metal pressed to Hongjoong’s nipple, and he froze. That was- the knife was- Seonghwa had it-
A rush of slick escaped him, and he whimpered. Seonghwa chuckled. The tip of the knife trailed lower, Seonghwa moving it aimlessly over the softness of Hongjoong’s stomach.
Some long-dormant prey instinct kept Hongjoong frozen under the knife’s touch, not moving a muscle, panting up at the man above him. Seonghwa’s hand joined the blade on Hongjoong’s stomach. “Pretty,” he murmured, kneading the flesh under his hand. He dipped down to press a trail of gentle kisses to Hongjoong’s skin.
The knife trailed along his thigh, then, skating to the inside of his leg where blood ran close to the surface, and then-
He gasped when the blade trailed down to press against his slit, teasing his most intimate place. A tremor ran through his limbs. He wanted Seonghwa to put the knife away, to get up, to leave the room. He wanted him to pull Hongjoong closer, bury his teeth in his neck, never let go again.
A stilted breath hiccuped out of him, and Seonghwa relented, moving the sharpness of the knife away from his cunt, rubbing over him with two long fingers instead.
The fingers came up, and Hongjoong lost himself in the sight of Seonghwa licking Hongjoong’s slick off of them.
“Sweet,” the alpha decided, with another proprietary kiss to Hongjoong’s slack mouth. “So sweet for me. Going to be good?”
“‘M never good,” Hongjoong managed, between kisses that left him dizzily ravished.
Something teased at his opening then, spreading his slick around before pressing inexorably inside him, and Hongjoong realized that Seonghwa was fucking the hilt of the knife slowly into him.
Arousal shot through him, and he spasmed with his orgasm, soaking the knife’s hilt and Seonghwa’s hand on it. Seonghwa looked at him through it, eyes greedily devouring Hongjoong’s form. “Oh, you really like that,” he cooed, twisting the knife’s hilt inside him.
Hongjoong wailed, shoving weakly at Seonghwa as the leather-wrapped handle scraped harshly against his sensitive walls. “Please!”
“But you like it,” Seonghwa replied, keeping up that slow, brutal movement. “You like it when I pin you down and fuck you with my knife, don’t you?”
The desperate thread of arousal billowing in Hongjoong’s scent answered just as well as his moans did. “Please, alpha,” he barely managed to say.
Seonghwa summarily pinned his wrists down above his head on the bed with one of his own hands, reaching for the knife again. It’s still sticking out of Hongjoong, obscene. He can feel it carving out a space in his insides, where nothing has ever been before.
Seonghwa rotated it then, tugging it roughly to the sides as he fucks it in and out of Hongjoong, and he’s moved helplessly along with the powerful strokes. It felt like Seonghwa was going to bruise every centimeter of the inside of Hongjoong’s cunt with the rigid hilt of the knife. Like that was his goal.
Another orgasm ripped from him, and he shook apart under Seonghwa’s hands, on Seonghwa’s blade. His husband coaxed him through it, lowering his head to lap up Hongjoong’s spend from the crevice of his thigh.
“So sweet for me,” he praised again, pulling the knife out. “So pretty, darling.” He pressed a kiss to Hongjoong’s forehead, a startling moment of innocence amid the- Hongjoong flushed. Amid the depravity.
He whimpered as it slid out of him, and it hurts, making him feel all scraped-raw and bruised inside, but it feels good too, a deep, somehow satisfying ache inside him. “Alpha…” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for.
Seonghwa regarded him closely. “Do you want my cock now, darling, or is that too much?”
Hongjoong considered. On the one hand, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to walk tomorrow. On the other hand… “Want you to fuck me,” he slurred out, trying to force uncooperate limbs to move. “Please, alpha.”
Seonghwa moved gratifyingly quickly, shucking his pants before coming back to press himself against Hongjoong, to card his hands through Hongjoong’s hair and shower kisses across his skin. “Think you’re ready?” he asked, fingers skating close to Hongjoong’s entrance.
Hongjoong was past the point of caring about things like adequate preparation. “Alpha,” he pleaded, and Seonghwa crumbled immediately.
“Of course, darling,” he soothed, kissing Hongjoong again as he pinned his hands down like he’d done before. “Whatever you want.” And then he was pressing into Hongjoong, one slow, torturous slide as Hongjoong was forced to stretch around him.
His body struggled to accommodate the intrusion, and he whimpered. Seonghwa stopped to smooth his hair down. “You’re all right, darling,” he murmured. “You can take it.”
And he kept pushing, carving out Hongjoong’s insides to make a space for himself. By the time he was fully inside, Hongjoong was certain he was drooling against the sheets, head lolling to the side.
“Beautiful,” Seonghwa praised, taking his time to admire Hongjoong spread out underneath him, speared on his cock and unable to move. “Gorgeous.”
He set a rough pace, his erratic breathing betraying how close he himself was. Hongjoong was pinned beneath him, unable to do anything but take it. His breathy little noises were music to Seonghwa’s ears, crescendoing as Seonghwa wrung a third orgasm out of him.
Hongjoong’s muscles spasmed around him as he thrashed helplessly, the tight heat causing Seonghwa’s knot to expand.
He locked them together, coming in hot waves inside Hongjoong, one hand pressed to the omega’s stomach. “So pretty for me, so good,” he praised, petting Hongjoong’s soft skin gently. “So gorgeous, would be so pretty all full of my pups.”
Hongjoong moaned again at that, muscles fluttering weakly around Seonghwa’s knot, and Seonghwa grinned smugly. He maneuvered them so that he was flat on his back, Hongjoong laying sprawled comfortably across him.
One hand came up to rub comfortingly at Hongjoong’s back as the exhausted omega’s eyes drooped in sleep. He nosed in closer to Seonghwa’s collarbone, unmistakably searching for proximity.
Seonghwa smiled softly and kept rubbing his back, humming quietly to help Hongjoong settle. He had a feeling the feisty little omega would continue to pleasantly surprise him.