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Habibi, light is burning

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He’s going to be a married man soon. Meaning he won’t belong to himself anymore. He’ll lose his freedom to look, to touch, to feel, to fuck.


The latter being the main reason he doesn’t like the thought of marrying.

He kind of has a reputation following him now: Prince Chanyeol only takes. From dawn till dusk, all he does is fuck. Everything and everyone.

He won’t deny it. Who is he to deny the pleasures in life? Who is he to ignore the generous welcoming given to him by his fiancé’s father?

The harem dancers’ struts are sensual when they walk up to him. Robes screaming wealth with their golden embroideries. The little bells adorning their ankles, wrists and hips make such delicate noises when they move. It makes his insides twist from excitement.

He’s still completely sober. Still in his right mind when it comes to making decisions.

He knows he’s here to marry someone. Not just ‘someone’. The king’s youngest son. He knows he should show some respect by not looking at them too much.

It’s a test. He can’t get tempted.

But his body is fighting against him. His abdomen lighting on fire as soon as he locks eyes with one of the dancers in particular. Eyes the deepest, warmest brown. Is that lust he sees? Or is it just a reflection of his? He isn’t certain, for the rest of their face and hair is completely covered by expensive looking shawls.

His eyes travel south as they continue to move their body right in front of him. Not failing to notice how the necklace adorning their neck dips in at the center. Decorating the middle of the deep v-cut of the dress they’re wearing. All the way from their neck, past their waist and belly button.

Too much fabric, he thinks.

A tease. Such a tease. Especially when they start to move closer and closer. Almost moving like a predator. Stalking towards him like they just found their prey. Movements changing. Slower. Sultrier. More intimate. Driving him insane.

The music picks up. Hips following the rhythm. From side to side and in sensual circles, like rolling hills and 1001 Arabian nights.

The sound of the drums. The little bells ringing. It’s hypnotic. He could get high on this.

The fabric of their dress starts to fall open. Exposing more and more of the milky skin underneath it. The golden necklace doesn’t seem to end.

The sight is going straight to his dick. Making his mouth water. He wants to taste. Wants to do very, very bad things to this vixen. This temptress is succeeding.

He’s imagining it already. Not bothering to take all of that jewelry off while he fucks them senseless. Preferably somewhere against a mirror. It’s a sight he wouldn’t want to miss out on after all.
He gives them a daring grin as they almost flash a thigh in front of him. His fingers ache to touch.

Suddenly the music stops. The slit of the dress feeling like a burn-mark in between his fingertips.

“No touching,” the most exquisite vision in front of him hisses, voice sounding muffled behind the shawl covering the lower part of their face. Voice suddenly dripping with honey as they continue, “if you want to touch, you have to earn.”

There’s amusement in the other’s eyes though as they continue the act. Now moving to dance right at the center of the harem. But even from a distance, their eyes never lose the prince’s.

Chanyeol grunts, knuckles white as he grips at the pillows surrounding him to hold himself back. He’s angry at himself. Being so close, yet so far.

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about it already, but if his fiancé wants to bring a harem of ladies in waiting with him to Chanyeol’s kingdom… Well, he won’t forbid it.

The act finishes. Way too soon, but also not soon enough in his opinion.

He’s practically undressing them with his eyes already. That waist. Those luscious hips. The milky skin covering their neck. He wants to ruin the perfection with a thousand hickeys.

He’s going to ruin it. He has decided already.

“What does his majesty think of my youngest son, Prince Chanyeol?” the king suddenly addresses him.

“I think he’s very pleased with me, father,” the muffled voice speaking up again. The brown pair of eyes travelling downwards to look at the prince’s very obvious bulge in his pants.

***

He has no idea how he’s going to sit through an entire full-course dinner, with that vixen seated right beside him.

He’s practically drooling as he continues to stare at the enchanting dancer - his fiancé - while the king in front of him keeps on talking and talking. He doesn’t pick up on any word he’s saying.
Too distracted by the dainty fingers playing with the glass of wine in front of them. Absentmindedly tracing the rim of the glass ever so slowly.

Or maybe his fiancé is perfectly aware of what he’s doing. Just teasing and riling him up even more as his fingertips travel down the stem of the glass before finally lifting it and bringing it to his mouth.

All he wants is to catch a glimpse of those lips. He needs to know. Are they just as plump as those luscious, milky thighs he was able to see so briefly? They must be. He already knows they will look beautiful wrapped around his dick.

“Prince Chanyeol?” The king’s voice commands him to focus on him again.

Much to Chanyeol’s annoyance. He was so close to finding out, yet by the time he looks back the shawl is already covering his fiancés face again. Still, he manages to plaster a fake smile on his face that covers up his frustration. “Yes, your majesty?”

“You never answered my question.”

The foreign prince raises his eyebrows expectantly. The question being…? He only realizes when he feels the pair of doe-like eyes next to him glued to his face. He wants to know if he agrees to this marriage. Whether he wants to continue it or not, for he’s the one who has a say in it first.

He feels like he might be running head over heels into this. It isn’t much different from the way he normally behaves though. He has always let his emotions lead him. Horniness being the first and foremost in that, but it’s an emotion.

But his sexual escapades normally don’t involve a marriage. If it does, it’s one that’s ruined after he had sex. But never his own.

“I think I am, but I have no idea whom I am marrying…” he answers truthfully. “Perhaps I have to earn your son’s hand first?”

He sees a flicker of something pass the other’s face after those words.

Technically he isn’t lying. He really doesn’t have any idea what he’s getting himself into. He wants to know if it’s all worth it first.

Dinner continues as he keeps up the conversation with the foreign king. Talking about all types of things ranging from kingdom lore to the exotic fruits being served to them. There’s one that peaks his interest in particular: the red, triangular shaped berries his fiancé keeps picking at. Strawberries, they’re called. And when Chanyeol finally tastes them, he’s delirious with the thought of his fiancé’s lips tasting so sweet.

There’s one voice he never hears at the dining table and it’s his. He only hears the smallest of wet, slurping sounds coming from underneath the shawl when yet another piece of fruit disappears underneath it. But judging from the way his eyes go crescent, he’s enjoying it as much as Chanyeol enjoys the image making its way right inside of his head. Transforming the sound into something much more obscene.

He can’t resist.

So he tries. The taste of – what seems to be forbidden – fruit bringing and tempting him to sneak a hand off his lap onto the leg beside him.

His fingers now dancing a provoking choreography along the other’s thigh.

He gives his fiancé a charming smile when he slaps his hand away, already anticipating it. It doesn’t matter though. They already did their part.

It’s the prettiest thing he has ever seen, the flush on his untainted cheeks.

***

That night Chanyeol gets the biggest guest room of the castle appointed to him. The big king-sized bed in the middle of it mocking him. White mattress empty. Bedsheets way too neat. It’s too big to spend the night all alone in.

But it would be considered the biggest insult if he were to share it with someone else now. Now that he’s technically betrothed and even sleeping under his fiancé’s roof.

He can’t keep his fingers from wandering down his own body though. Closing his eyes as he imagines them belonging to someone else. Going as far as digging his own nails into his skin, already assuming his fiancé is the type of lover that does such things.

He dreams a lot that night. Those deep brown eyes filled with lust, luring him in. He’s never going to let go of him again. Legs and arms everywhere. Alabaster skin engulfing him as he makes love to the foreign prince.

For the entire week that follows, he’s a man with a mission. More than wanting to shag him, he wants to see his face. He’s certain he would’ve had him already if he was only out for a quick fuck. But this is different.

His face is as much as a mystery as his exact whereabouts are. It leaves Chanyeol puzzled in such a vast kingdom, with a palace equal to that. As the king continues talking to him about politics and agreements, it seems as if his youngest son is non-existent. If it weren’t for the mention of a marriage every time, he would’ve thought he had hallucinated the entire thing.

Until somewhere after a week, he finally spots him inside the castle walls. Surrounded by his harem of ladies in waiting. A bunch of women probably equally pretty and appealing to him as his fiancé, hadn’t it been for the mystery surrounding his husband to be.

Somehow it makes the chase even more fun.

There isn’t anyone in the company of the prince that has noticed his presence. So he decides to take this opportunity to just watch.

The prince is wearing hues of blue this time. There’s a see through shawl draped over his neck, shoulders and back. His hair is a beautiful shade of silvery white.

He’s dressed more modest this time. The fabric closed all the way up to his neck. Wrapped around his torso and kept together by a belt.

He almost growls because he still isn’t able to see his face. If only he’d turn around.

Instead all he gets to see is his back. The dainty fingers Chanyeol’s already acquainted with working their way through one of the maiden’s hair. He’s busy braiding it. Adding in all types of beads, flowers and jewelry with the utmost care.

He has never been the biggest fan of people touching his hair, but suddenly he craves it. Yearning to feel those fingers ruffle through his own locks instead of the woman’s. Is he jealous?
“Ah,” his fiancé sighs in content as he finishes the task, hands dropping to his lap when he inspects his own hard work. “Glad to see you, my prince. I already thought you’d given up.”

He manages to hold back a surprised squeal as the harem turns around to stare at him with blank faces. There are a lot of eyes on him now. All but one pair.

“You’re good at hiding,” he counters, quickly falling back on his feet as he pushes himself away from the door. Making sure to take big and confident struts as he tries to walk into his fiancé’s sight.

“Am I?” There’s a hint of a laugh at the end of the sentence. But then he harshly commands Chanyeol to stop.

He halts in his tracks, confused as to why he should. Yet he doesn’t even think twice about it. The air in the room seems to shift because of the sharp voice. Next thing he knows, the harem gets up to leave. No audible command given to them to do so, Chanyeol realizes. He must’ve missed some finger snapping. He’s impressed, to say the least.

“Are you here to earn my hand?” his voice breaks the silence again. He sounds resentful.

He doesn’t know where the prince finds the courage to be so direct about it. People at court are always expected to be cautious about their every word and move. Yet, here he is. Words sounding vile. No effort into hiding it.

It leaves him speechless. Mind blank for a moment. But then, he thinks of something clever.

“How about a name instead, my love?”

He shakes his head at that in reply, but at least it earns Chanyeol a laugh. A beautiful, bright sounding laugh. “Don’t even try to act like my father didn’t tell you everything about me already.”

He seems to be distracted, still silently chuckling as he looks at his own hands. Chanyeol tries taking advantage of the moment to get closer to him, casually strolling forwards towards the beautiful chaise longue his fiancé’s currently seated on.

“He did, Baekhyun,” his name falling from his lips way too easily already, “but he wasn’t the only one. I’ve heard great tales about your beauty.” He has an arrogant smile plastered to his face, but the other doesn’t see that. He knows which words to use. The comment always works.

Another little laugh. “Funny. You’d know my face is reserved for my wedding night,” he remarks, even though he isn’t wearing any veil right now in his presence. Only the transparent shawl.

Is it a sign? An invitation for him to break that rule?

“Please leave.” The expensive looking fabric covering his shoulders pulls taught as he straightens his back. Face completely turned away from him. Yet it appears as if he has eyes on his back. “Or have a seat by the window and talk to me about the kingdom you’re going to drag me away to, if you really are so keen on marrying me.”

He considers himself a fool if he would fall for such a hard persona. The roles are supposed to be reversed. Nevertheless he finds himself doing as he’s told.

***

Striking up conversation with the foreign prince is anything but easy, he soon finds out.

It’s a miracle when he manages to find him roaming the palace halls to begin with. Either he’s a natural at playing hide and seek, or he just doesn’t leave his rooms that often. Whatever the case may be, he never finds him alone or in the presence of his father.

His harem of ladies following him around like a flock of peacocks. Their chins lifted in the air as they walk graciously through the hallways of the castle. Some of them walking ahead of prince Baekhyun, while other’s trail behind or accompany his sides.

Their smiles and laughter are always so bright, they betray the prince’s presence when he finally does leave his room. They’re audible from afar, luring in the attention of all the soldiers standing guard at every other window.

But as soon as Chanyeol comes close, there’s silence. As if he isn’t supposed to hear them talk to begin with. Or like he shouldn’t have knowledge about his future husband’s ability to smile.

He’s upset about it – yes – but not as much as he actually should be. He’s still charming as ever in the eyes of everyone else. A certain harem lady too.

He first noticed her the moment his fiancé sent him away, right after he told him everything he needed to know about his - their soon to be ruled together – kingdom. Baekhyun had suddenly lost interest in him, picking at his nails while still managing to keep his face covered from his prying eyes.

Baekhyun hadn’t revealed one thing about him. Nor his face, nor his personality. It drove Chanyeol up the wall that night.

Luckily for him he didn’t leave that conversation empty handed. Ever since then, he’s been eye fucking the very same harem lady. And if Chanyeol has to make a wild guess, it’s quite the important one. For her blonde hair is always beautifully braided, the way only his fiancé’s delicate hands are able to do, and she often walks right beside him when he encounters them in the hallways.

Another week passes when Chanyeol learns about the wedding date. He’s glad to find out it will take place in a few days. Not because he doesn’t like the foreign kingdom very much. It’s just that his own father has been very ill lately and he wants to return as quick as possible. It’s his father who arranged this marriage for him in the first place. He only wants to make him proud.

He flashes a cocky smile at the blonde haired beauty seated right opposite of him. He can’t believe she’s the one tasked to inform him about his wedding to the prince, but here they are. He certainly isn’t going to complain now that he has her all to himself.

She’s formal about the entire wedding thing: it’s going to be a private ceremony, for the palace is very keen on keeping their privacy and the identity of the royal members a secret. The people only know the king’s face, not the faces of his sons and definitely not his daughters. Prince Baekhyun’s face must remain a secret, up until he comes to rule Chanyeol’s kingdom with him.

“Has my husband decided whether he wants to bring the harem with him or not?” he bites his thumb in a teasing manner at that question.

“Part of us will follow him, part of us won’t.”

“What about you? Will you be his mistress or mine?”

She’s shocked at how direct he is when he straight up asks her if she wants him to fuck her now. It’s even more surprising how fast she complies.

“I have to tell you something.”

He grunts as he pounds into her at an merciless pace. Trying to just have her shut up for once, but it doesn’t seem to work.

She’s way too talkative and loud. Going on and on about how he’s the best she’s ever had. Which normally would only feed his ego, but it’s rather inconvenient when you’re trying to fuck your fiancé’s lady in waiting without anyone finding out.

He just wants to finish – finally something different then his own hand and stomach – but her annoying whining is making it so hard for him. He ends up covering her mouth with his hand, smothering her cries of pleasure until both of them finish.

The high of her orgasm has her quiet for at least five minutes. Long enough for Chanyeol to clean up and get dressed again.

He bends down to pick her dress off the floor – the sooner she leaves, the better – when she finds her voice again.

“He’s going to kill you.”

He snorts in amusement as he smooths out the dress for her. He’s always kind to his fucks in case he wants to have them again. This one however forces him to act nice. She’s his husband’s after all. He doesn’t want her to talk.

“What, is he addicted to sex or something?” he grins. He doubts his husband to beat him at that. Chanyeol’s sex drive is through the roof.

“No, he’s going to actually kill you.” She grabs the dress from his hands, slipping back into it while she adds, “how big is this kingdom, prince Chanyeol?”

“Big?”

“So why would our king marry of his youngest son to a kingdom like yours?”

“Excuse me?” He’s offended. His kingdom being anything but small… compared to most other kingdoms. All but Baekhyun’s father’s.

“He’s like a black widow. He marries, fucks and then kills them for his father. Get out before he does.”

***

He’s a twelvefold widower. Twelve times a kingdom added – lost – to his father’s. Wiped from everyone’s minds.. How did such a thing go unnoticed? Not only once, but twelve times?

He feels stupid. Like all of his geography lessons as a prince have been for nothing. He’s about to be tasked to rule a kingdom, but now it appears he knows nothing of it. Let alone the kingdom of his fiancé and the royal family he’s marrying into.

He’s marrying a murderer.

A black widow. Damn him, why do those words affect him so much? He shouldn’t be aroused, but the thought of lithe prince Baekhyun dressed in black as he fakes a few tears for his deceased spouse has a fire spreading through his loins.

Those dainty fingers covered in blood as he holds his next victim down with his milky thighs. He’s already imagining them next to his head. Would that be how he goes at it? Choking them instead? Making it seem like an accident when his spouse’s family comes to mourn their death?

Does he pretend to weep and faint from exhaustion in front their eyes? Or is his mourning somewhat real? Does he pity himself?

The harem lady’s words leave him with a storm of questions. Is she even speaking the truth? Why would she?

It also – strangely – explains a lot of things. Why their marriage should take place privately, for example. Or why they agreed on such an unexpected, quick marriage. The faster the king dies when they got rid of the prince, the better after all. His kingdom would be theirs in no time.

It also explains the content of their one and only private conversation so far. The soon to be annexed lands being the only thing of Baekhyun’s interest. It’s all he has to know. All he has to report back to his father. Why bother getting to know each other, when all he wants is a quick fuck and a marriage ring disposal?

Chanyeol barely knows his fucks names, so who is he to judge?

Still it kind of hurts his ego. Blame it on his testosterone, but his fiancé really doesn’t have a pair of good working eyes if he doesn’t see just how handsome Chanyeol is.

A really beautiful pair of deep, brown eyes…

Who wouldn’t want him?

He just doesn’t have a clue yet what he’s capable of. Making both men and women moan and scream his name. Begging him to do them again and again. Addicted to the pleasure he gives them every time. Earning him the blissed out title of the best lover they ever had, no doubt.

He’ll just have to make him see. Make him feel. He’ll be quick and easy to convince. He can already tell from that daring, deep brown gaze what he desires most. To succumb.

To be forced into submission.

He has always loved a challenge. Especially the ones with high stakes.

***

A private wedding to them still includes as much festivities as there were on his welcoming day. If not more. Except this time his fiancé – no, his now husband in almost every act – is sitting beside him. Surprisingly modest as well.

His wedding outfit leaves literally everything to the imagination. He’s clad in such thick lace and shawls, he almost wouldn’t have recognized him hadn’t he been wearing all white today. There’s a proper veil covering his face this time, adorned with so many diamonds and crystals that Chanyeol isn’t even able to look at because of how much the light catches them. He’d literally go blind if he did.

He wonders how much his husband is actually able to enjoy their wedding celebrations. But maybe he isn’t meant to like it. It’s his thirteenth wedding party after all. It’s probably all routine to him.
Perhaps he’s sleeping underneath all those fabrics. Bored out of his mind as he’s not allowed to drink or eat. The wine would stain the fabric of the white wedding gown they probably used time and time again.

How many people had seen him wearing this already? How many people had gotten as far as stripping him from it all the way? All twelve, Chanyeol guesses from the spotless lace covering his husband’s delicious curves.

At the beginning of the night he tries striking up conversation with him. Tries to get to know him a bit more before they retreat to the bedroom and before he meets his inevitable fate. But it’s soon clear to him how his husband isn’t the talkative type.

So he starts with the first part of his plans. Filling up their glasses with the exquisite red wine being served to them. Chugging one glass after the other. Downing his husband’s as well when he leaves the liquid untouched.

He knows he won’t get drunk. If anything, more so tipsy. Or horny. Alcohol in his system always leaves him very much riled up.

It’s starting already. He’s on edge. Tense. Conscious of every little move his petite husband makes next to him, on the loveseat they are sitting on. The harem ladies are performing for them again, but Chanyeol is entranced by something else. He hears a little ringing from time to time, but none of the harem ladies are wearing any bells now that it’s their prince’s time to shine.

“Are you wearing that jewelry again?” his voice sounds husky when he brings his lips to where he guesses the smaller’s ear must be.

“Hmm,” he hums, audibly feigning thought underneath those shawls, “I thought I was good at hiding?”

“Not good enough, husband mine,” he chuckles back, experimentally resting a hand on his thigh as he takes another sip of his drink.

Baekhyun allows it this time. Or rather, the new wedding ring around his finger does. The fabric in front of his eyes is thin enough to see his eyes hooked on Chanyeol’s fingers.

“Then tell me, what do you think I’m hiding underneath all this?”

It’s a trick question. He just knows it involves murder. The glint in Baekhyun’s eyes betrays him.

The alcohol in his system decides to kick in. “A mouth and ass for me to abuse.”

***

“Off.”

There’s the faint taste of iron in his mouth when he accidently bites the inside of his cheek. His face stings where the hand just came down. No sign of mercy.

His husband’s teasing left him on edge and past it. He’s had enough. It’s going on all evening and beginning of the night already. So long he just couldn’t help himself but to tug at his husband’s veil as soon as the door of their room fell shut behind them.

There’s a slender fingertip pressed against his forehead. Force behind it when he tries to come closer again. One unexpected push enough to make Chanyeol lose his balance.

He stumbles backwards with a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face. “Come on, baby.”

“Back up.”

He’s so desperate. So tired of waiting, he immediately follows his every command. Taking a few steps backwards. Leaving him the room to walk past him, struggling but managing to keep his hands to himself as he does.

His husband’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as he makes his way over to the chaise longue. Clearly agitated as he sighs and drops down on it. His fingers instantly reach for the golden platter of strawberries. He chuckles when he sees Chanyeol’s Adam’s apple move up and down.

His mouth has never been so dry.

Dainty fingers pick at the very edge of the veil, barely lifting it as his free hand brings the fruit to the pair of pink, plump lips underneath it.

They’re beautiful and perfect in every single, fucking way. Still, he’d like them more wrapped around his girth.

A corner of his mouth snakes up in amusement. “Strip.”

“Well, that’s not fair now. Is it?” Chanyeol teases, hands already working on his collar while closing the distance between them.

A naked foot against his chest stops him from bending over the draped figure on the chaise longue. “I told you to strip.”

Chanyeol’s the one towering over him. Yet at the same time, he’s the one that feels intimidated.

“Not to make a fool out of yourself.” Not one golden bracelet adorns his slim ankle, but five. Maybe more. They’re slipping down his calf, into the mysterious abyss of whatever’s going on underneath his wedding gown.

He starts to torment him even more by sliding his feet down across his chest, but it soon turns against him. No doubt he’s seen how well-toned Chanyeol is, but now he must feel it as well: the curve of his abs. The strong muscles.

He feels the strength in his leg weaken and acts upon it straight away. Lifting a hand to slide it along the partially exposed skin of his leg. Loving the way those beads catch onto his fingers, pleasing his ears as they make noise once more. It heightens his senses.

Slightly above his knee. That’s how far he makes it before the foot kicks him in the stomach.

He needs a moment to recover. Gasping for air before he manages to find himself grinning arrogantly again. His husband is truly ruthless.

“That blonde one may have been easy, but I’m not,” he hisses, eyes looking like they are about to burn a hole through his skull any minute from now.

He knows.

“You have to earn. Remember?”

Chanyeol tries to focus on the pair of eyes underneath the fabric, but his sight is slightly blurry. Maybe he’s had more wine than he initially planned.

“She said you don’t last very long, but you’re persistent enough when it comes to pleasing.”

That bitch. He’ll show him just how long he can last.

He moans at the set of fingers pulling at his hair. Forcing him down on his knees. Face being buried into the pillows instead of his husband’s chest. His heavy breathing sounds muffled.

“Strip.”

He grunts in protest, but the fingers buried at the nape of his neck have him exactly where he wants him to be. Red cheek glued to the cushions, he starts to work on the double breasted buttons of his coat first. Then he moves on to his pants.

All while keeping prince Baekhyun’s gaze fixed on him.

Chanyeol’s been painfully hard for a while now. His husband casually sucking on pieces of strawberry with his free hand only adding to his throbbing erection. He’s right. He won’t last long like this.

He moans when he gets some friction from his pants being stripped off. Eyes falling shut. Practically drooling on the expensive piece of furniture. He could come right then and there. But it’s not enough. Not with a vision like his husband seated next to him.

He erratically lifts his knees slightly to get the pair of pants off completely, kicking his shoes off in the process.

“Get up.” The death grip on his head loosens.

Chanyeol’s eyes flutter open again.

The veil is gone.

Revealing beautiful, glass skin so pale, he almost looks transparent combined with the whiter than white strands of hair falling into his eyes. It’s like all pigment has been sucked out of him, except for the plump pair of cupid-like lips.

There’s a chain splitting his heart shaped face in the middle, connecting one big ear to the other. They almost don’t match his body in size, but it doesn’t make him any uglier. On the contrary.

He almost looks to good to be true. Like he’s going to show his real colors any minute now – and Chanyeol has a feeling he will – but it’s a high he doesn’t want to come down from. If this really is a dream – or a nightmare for that matter – it’s one he doesn’t want to ever wake up from.

“Get. Up.”

He’s been staring at him. For how long? He really can’t tell. His legs are wobbling when he pushes himself back up again. From the alcohol running through his system or the nerves now pooling at the pit of his stomach? He isn’t sure.

Baekhyun’s gaze manages to set his skin on fire without a single touch.

His eyes travel across his body. Starting from his feet upwards, they linger longer on a certain area.

He can’t tell from his face if he’s pleased or not. Doesn’t even understand where the disappointment comes from when his eyes travel onwards without a single comment. Surely, his twelve deceased husbands were of no match to him. Right?

Then why does he feel so insecure?

“Turn around.”

He hears laughter falling from the beauty’s mouth as soon as he does.

“What’s so funny?”

There’s no immediate response to that. Only more laughter. He’s being toyed with.

“What-“ he snaps, balling his fists as he angrily throws his head over his shoulder to look down on him.

Except his captivating stranger of a husband isn’t seated anymore. His face is right behind his shoulder as he grins, “your ass.”

Fingers glide down from the small of his back to cup one of the naked cheeks. Chanyeol hisses from the cold, shuddering underneath his touch.

“So small.” There’s a devilish glint in his eyes before his hand snakes past his hipbone.

The mere size comparison of his hand wrapping around his cock already manages to draw a moan from his throat before his fingers have done any work. He mutters something unintelligible at them, but in his mind he knows exactly what he wants from him. What’s he’s willing to beg for.

“Front it is then.”

He whines loudly at the sudden loss of contact. “Really?!” he grunts. Much to his own surprise, he’s quick enough to grab ahold of his husband’s wrist. This time he’s determined to push through.

The little vixen gasps as Chanyeol harshly pulls at the fabric of his wedding gown, their lips and teeth clashing together.

He feels him groaning and cussing inside of his mouth. Ignores the pair of teeth sinking into his bottom lip until the sting brings tears to his eyes.

“Don’t like that, baby?” Chanyeol grins as he licks the blood of his lips.

His husband unconsciously mimics him. Chest heaving heavily. He’s still trying to process what just happened.

“Bet you’re not used to that, huh,” his voice is husky as he lets his hands wander over his husband’s lithe body. His eyes almost immediately follow suit, travelling down to the exact spot where his big hands so deliciously cup his tiny waist. “Not being in charge?”

“Shut up.”

What follows is a fight of dominance over who gets to strip him from the many white fabrics. His husband ends up being faster, since he already knows the way the clothing is draped around his body. Still, Chanyeol’s the one to push it completely off his shoulders.

His gift is well packed.

He’s covered in so much jewelry, he has no idea where to look first.

The chain splitting his face in the middle doesn’t only connect his ears. It also connects to his neck. Dips right in the center of his clavicles all the way down, past his waist and the barely noticeable muscles of his abdomen.

It leaves Chanyeol’s mouth so dry, it’s like he’s been wandering the desert for days searching for an oasis. He’s finally found it.

“Touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Attacking and taking everything at once. Digging his fingers in those luscious thighs as he grabs ahold of him, lifts him off the ground and carries him over to the king sized bed that’s been prepared for their wedding night.

They both grunt at the feeling of their erections rubbing together.

“There’s-“ Baekhyun’s so desperate all of a sudden, his voice catches in his throat as he tries to speak, “There’s an aphrodisiac on the table.”

He flashes his teeth in satisfaction. His husband’s already a heavily panting, aroused mess and he hasn’t even properly started. Yet, he’s already wanting and asking for more. “Don’t need it.”

“Good,” Baekhyun doesn’t waste time as he pulls him down on top of him, whispering into his ear, “I want to go all night.”

It’s all music to Chanyeol’s ears. The moans and frustrated grunts when sucks hickeys in Baekhyun’s neck, abusing the most sensitive parts of his body except for the parts where he wants him most.

He’s basically rutting against Chanyeol’s stomach for some friction and release. Slaps Chanyeol all across the face again when he’s forced by the taller to stop it. “Just fuck me already.”

In response Chanyeol manhandles him with his face into the comforter. Partially as a revenge for what he did to him earlier. “Beg for it.”

“Please,” he hears him scoff, “as if that pathetic cock of yours hasn’t been leaking since dinner.” He eyes him from the corner of his eyes, a smothered laugh resonating through the room as the comment clearly has an impact.

He takes pleasure in his husband’s sharp cry when he yanks him up by the piece of jewelry adorning his neck.

It audibly cuts part of Baekhyun’s breath off, but he visibly likes it. His body trembling and covered in goosebumps as he tries to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth.

He isn’t the easy type, he said? Well then Chanyeol won’t take it easy on him either. The fact that he’s about to fuck a murderer into these bedsheets is crawling its way to the front of his brain again. Perhaps he just needs to give his husband a little reminder how that’s going to be far from easy for him.

“As if you haven’t been thinking of sucking it when you had those strawberries,” he counters as he releases his grip on the necklace, only to follow it down ever so agonizingly slow.

He remembers thinking how he’d fuck him in all of those obnoxiously big diamonds, but right now he’s tempted to strip it all from him. He’s curious to see what he’d look like without all of it. He certainly doesn’t need any of it.

He follows the chain down past his belly button before he curls his fingers around the silver. Then, he pulls.

The corner of his mouth lifts up when he feels Baekhyun’s nails dig into Chanyeol’s thigh behind him.

No, taking it off would be the stupidest thing he could ever do.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckles as he bends him over again with a grin, “don’t you just love the attention?” He sinks a finger in him without any type of warning. Only allowing him a few in and outs to adjust before he adds another. He’s too aroused to consider taking things slow with him.

Baekhyun’s lips are almost as red as those strawberries he has been sucking on from the way he’s biting down on them. Desperately trying not to make too many sounds, since he doesn’t want to grant that dickhead any more.

The giant isn’t close to making it easy on him though. His thick fingers skillfully moving inside of him, curving the way he likes it most. He’s fast to figure it out too. The digits seemingly knowing him better than Baekhyun has known himself – his own unspoken desires and needs – all his life.

He’s a writhing mess on top of the bedsheets, matching them in whiteness except for where his milky flesh is flushed pink from arousal. Pleasure pooling rapidly in his abdomen. He’s so close. He’s-
“Wait,” Baekhyun’s voice is raspy from the squirms he’s holding in. Pitches almost impossibly higher as Chanyeol doesn’t stop right away, “wait!”

Except his prince – the husband he’s supposed to kill – doesn’t. He continues abusing his prostate like he didn’t hear him. Mute to his whimpers and pleas. He obviously has picked up on them though, for he’s even going harder on him now.

Making Baekhyun’s lower lip tremble right before he successfully manages to draw a loud moan from him. And another. And another.

Delirious on the feeling Baekhyun actually starts to reconsider things. Maybe he shouldn’t get rid of this one. He could keep him a secret, right? A personal sex slave, isn’t that always a good idea?

“Stop! I’m-“ He tries to steady himself by gripping tightly onto the bedsheets. Tries to crawl away from his ministrations. But a hand on the small of his back pinpoints him into the mattress.

Keeps him there when his first orgasm hits him, continuing until the spasms stop and he’s left lying like a limp doll on top of the sheets. Completely blissed out.

Panting with his mouth wide open, drool slowly threatening to fall on the dry sheets underneath his cheek.

He whimpers, oversensitive, when he feels the rough hands scoop his ass up from the bed. Not feeling like wasting too much time. But Baekhyun wouldn’t have it any other way. Pushing his ass backwards as his husband yanks him off the mattress for a better angle.

Biting down on his lip as he pushes himself down on the other’s member.

The sight of Baekhyun pushing himself down on his cock is enough to draw a lewd moan out of Chanyeol’s mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his skull from the tight glide. It’s something he’s not used to, even though he’s fucked so many others before.

The animalistic sounds following it when Chanyeol’s starts thrusting, makes Baekhyun grin in satisfaction. He probably thinks he’s wrecking him, but it’s very much the other way around.

“Hmm,” he sighs, closing his eyes as he revels in the feeling of being brutally fucked open. It burns, but it’s a welcome distraction from the way his prostate is being abused again. “That blonde was right.”

“What?” Chanyeol huffs behind him from all the effort. He’s doing all the work for the both of them. “I don’t last long?” He’s lasting longer than him, clearly.

“No,” Baekhyun manages to get out as he lifts his arms, crossing them for him to use as a pillow to rest his head on. “You really are a pleaser.”

“Damn right I am.”

He continues to fuck him. Makes Baekhyun’s toes curl when he eats him out after. Forces him into a third orgasm that night alone. He has barely done anything for his new husband, but he seems to have forgotten about that too now that he finally has Baekhyun as a squirming, sweaty mess underneath him. The anticipation of his face finally being revealed enough to be content with literally anything he gets.

This is the life, Baekhyun thinks to himself as he buries his fingers into the thick head of hair in between his legs. This is the reason why he always marries them. There’s just nothing better than wedding sex.

He’s so heavenly sated, sleep is luring him in even when Chanyeol’s still going down on him. He really isn’t able to continue this anymore. Arms thrown over his head as he lays on his back, arched of the mattress. Chanyeol’s tongue is such a joyride, he crowns it the best part of him.

He whimpers in protest, crossing his legs in the middle of the man’s broad shoulders. The moan Chanyeol lets out vibrates inside of him.

It’s hard to breathe with Baekhyun’s plump thighs wrapped around his neck. His muscles sensible continuing to tense as he doesn’t seize his movements. He’s going to please. He’s going to last as long as possible.

But he has to come back up for air. Air he isn’t getting anymore. He’s-

The dark set of eyes are still overtaken by lust as they stare down at him. The small hand in his hair travelling down to gently pet the nape of his neck. Features hard. Adamant.

This is it. He knows. But what better way than go like this? After a well fuck? Dying while doing what he loved most during his life?

How predictable. Of course he chokes them with those killer thighs. He should’ve-

He gasps. A fresh supply of oxygen coming in. His throat is on fire.

Somewhere in between the ringing in his ears, he hears his husband mumbling a faint apology.

“Changed your mind?” He’s craving for a drop of water, his voice cracking as he pushes himself up to bring himself face to face with the petite man splayed out in front of him.

There’s a tinge of an emotion in his lover’s eyes. Shooting across his features, disappearing as quick as it came. But it’s long enough for Chanyeol to figure out that he’s absolutely right.

“Yes,” surprisingly, the smaller man admits. “I’m tired.”

He almost wants to roll his eyes. Of course, he won’t admit to what’s really going on inside of his pretty, little head.

“Perhaps we should get something to drink, love. I’m thirsty now,” he flashes his teeth as he untangles their limbs from each other. The table is but a short walk.

“No!” the smaller immediately shouts, throwing himself on him to prevent him from walking away. Draping his warm, sweaty chest over his back. He barely reaches his shoulders, chin poking awkwardly in his right shoulder blade.

“Why not?” Chanyeol smirks, knowing damn well that its poison sitting on that table two meters away from them. The love potion being obnoxiously red in color.

“We don’t need it,” he whispers back, small hands coming to land on his shoulders to pull himself up ever so slightly until he’s sitting on his knees. Just enough to bring his lips next to his ear. Giving a languid lick behind it.

A shiver travels down his spine.

He’s had Baekhyun at his mercy during their past, first round. But it seems like he has other plans this time around. The dominant, snarky Baekhyun being back.

Sensual hands slipping down his chest as the petite vixen splays himself out on his back again. Like an inviting buffet for Chanyeol to feast on.

“I thought you were tired?” He drops down next to him, accepting the invitation.

“I am.” He’s a storm of white in front of his eyes, swallowing him whole as he hovers over him. Arms rested on either side of the taller’s head, leaning down to kiss him. Slow. Sensual. Shocking.
It’s making him hard again. So much, he involuntarily grinds against his husband’s ass again.

“You’re going to have to grant me some rest, tiger.”

He feels the corners of his perfect lips turn up when he says it, while doing the complete opposite of what he’s suggesting. Mouth travelling lower and lower on his body. Sucking and nipping at the tender skin of his neck. Giving love bites to his abs. All while his fingernails scrape along his chest.

He knew he was the type to use his nails in bed.

“After this,” Chanyeol promises, ending it with a gasp as he feels a wet warmth swallowing him up. He pushes himself up on his elbows to see – a sight to behold, unable to describe – him try to deepthroat him for the first go.

He struggles.

“Am I the biggest? Thirteen, lucky number?” he sneers, not realizing what he spat out.

Baekhyun bops his head up a few times, stroking the parts he can’t reach with one hand, before he releases him with an obscene pop. “Only the dumbest.”

“But the best nonetheless.”

“Your ass is still non-existent,” he snaps back, but it’s hard to understand or take serious because of how muffled he sounds with his mouth around his shaft again.

Eager to swallow him. He just knows he’s been thinking about him too. From that moment Chanyeol’s hands touched the slit from that dress, to the tips of his fingers brushing along his thigh.
He can only laugh at his attempts of pushing him away, his actions showing the exact opposite. He’s as addicted to him as it is the other way round.

“Am I not your prettiest fuck?”

Heavens, he’s literally shameless.

“Fuck- Yes,” Chanyeol can’t take it anymore. The dirty talk. The degradation. The skills. He is indeed the prettiest. The most fatale. Quite literally. He wants him to dress in black, have him fake cry for him and oh-

“Alright,” Baekhyun sighs casually as his tongue laps up the stray remnants of Chanyeol’s release on his own chin, lips and even his husband’s abdomen. “Now I can finally sleep.”

“Excuse me?” His limbs still feel pleasantly numb, but he doesn’t get much time to bask in that post-orgasm feeling. Baekhyun’s words coming over him like a cold shower.

“I’m tired,” he yawns.

“Didn’t I do all the work though, sweetheart?”

“I just sucked your dick,” he snaps back while pushing at his sides. A bad attempt at shoving him to the left side of the bed. He’d easily fit on the space beside him – the bed is enormous – but Baekhyun being the size queen he is, he just has to have all of it.

A croaky yelp leaves his abused throat as Chanyeol flips them around unexpectedly. Slamming him into the bed so hard, the mattress bounces underneath their bodyweight.

“You better let go of me now or-“

“Or?” He teases, biting into the tips of his ears that turned red in anger and frustration. He presses a single hot kiss behind his ear as well, feeling the cold metal of the chain against his lips where it dips down behind it.

“I’ll call the guards.”

“Oh, you ask your guards to do the dirty work for you?” he grins against his skin. His tongue snakes out of his mouth and behind the piece of metal. With a little help from his pearly whites, he successfully manages to get rid of the thing. Immediately making it stick to the dampened skin of the young prince’s shoulder.

Baekhyun is only able to let out a moan as Chanyeol moves onto the other side.

“Do you like their daggers more?”

He doesn’t get far on the other side. A hand pushing him back, straight in the face, with brute force. He loses his balance, but instead of falling backwards he tumbles forward.

The friction of the jewelry chains and beads between their naked bodies works miracles, riling him up in a heartbeat.

“I prefer you quiet.”

“Not an option, love.”

“I mean it- Let me sleep,” he groans when he feels Chanyeol’s half-hard dick rub against his own. “I can’t. I really can’t, not again.”

Yet there seems to be no truth in those words either. No intention to back away at all, when he throws his arms around the giant’s neck and allows him to roll the both of them over to their sides. He doesn’t even protest when the other starts to unwrap him from every obnoxiously shining bracelet and diamond chains adorning his limbs.

Too delirious to wrap his brain around the reality of what’s happening to him.

Overly sated when he comes yet again. It probably won’t be the last time that night either.

“Still going to kill me?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” It’s barely audible underneath the ruined bedsheets, with his swollen lips pressed to Chanyeol’s chest and so spent he’s left immobile. “If you can’t fuck like that twice.”

He’s already fucked him more than twice.

“To a thousand nights then, love.”