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朝鮮; 조선; Joseon - 17th Year of Wanli (1590 C.E.)

Out of the hundred or so scholars at Sayeokwon, the Bureau of Interpretation, Sung Hanbin was the only one who had never been given an assignment of any value. Though there were only fifty interpreters trained in Mandarin in all of Joseon, and half that in their capital of Hanyang, he somehow remained noticeably unbusy. While his colleagues—he hesitated to call them ‘friends’—were rushed about and sent on brag-worthy envoy missions to the neighboring Ming dynasty, he simply kept himself sharp with studying and entertained with romance novels.

Though he was considered a sage of patience and understanding, it would be a lie to say Hanbin wasn’t jealous after having to hear about his colleagues’ adventures and learnings during the months-long journey to Beijing and back. He was ashamed to admit that even seeing them deployed on simple domestic work within the palace made him itch with envy. It was Hanbin alone who seemed to haunt the halls of Hanyang’s interpretation office, given the "honorable" task of training new interpreters instead of doing the actual job he’d worked so hard to secure. 

Anyone who knew of him or even of Sayeokwon in general was aware of what a skilled linguist Sung Hanbin was. His Mandarin prowess and passion made him a formidable candidate for any task given to Sayeokwon’s scholars, and yet here he was again, watching some of the last of his Mandarin interpreter colleagues ride off north to Liaodong to deal with the grand diplomatic tradition of poetry based cultural exchange the King himself had assigned to them. One Hanbin was, notably, excluded from attending.

All because he wasn’t of noble breed. Once he’d passed the rigorous interpretation civil service exam he’d naively thought he might be treated as an equal, as promised, but becoming an interpreter did not make one a noble. Though he held a respectful government position acquired by his raw talent, he was still a commoner by blood. So he was given the duties no noble wanted to bother with. 

He couldn’t help feeling a little bitter.

Perhaps it was just hard not to feel slighted by a system that promised escape but only ended up perpetuating stagnant social class. Hanbin kept this sentiment to himself though, lest he be seen as anything but a perfect Confucius scholar worthy of his position. 

Sayeokwon’s halls grew even quieter when it was just the junior interpreters and himself. In the days after the other interpreters left for Liaodong, Hanbin found himself drifting to Seungmunwon, the much busier translation office down the road, to avoid being caught up in any more impromptu tutoring sessions. The building was very similar to Hanbin’s own office, with its well-maintained white walls and heavy clay-plated roofs. The guards stationed out front did not need to see his name plaque as he swept inside, dipping his wide-brimmed hat their way. 

“Sayeokwon’s Princess gives us the pleasure of her presence once more,” Woohyun announced as Hanbin poked his head inside, putting down his brush to greet him. 

Hanbin ducked his head at the notorious nickname and quickly shuffled inside as the other senior scholars gave him friendly welcomes. Woohyun was the youngest scholar in Seungmunwon and Hanbin's life-long friend, so the sight of the two visiting each other wasn’t unfamiliar. They were usually tasked with keeping up communication between the two sister offices because they frequented each one so often anyway. Hanbin made sure to drop off one such scroll on the Chief Translator's desk with a bow before retreating to Woohyun's side. 

“Do you have to make such a fuss?” Hanbin grumbled as he parked himself next to Woohyun’s desk, peering down at the stack of diplomatic scrolls and Ming books that he was assigned that day. Woohyun’s language of work was also Mandarin—a popular choice among language scholars because of Joseon’s eagerness to please their powerful eastern ally, the Ming Dynasty. Due to the Wanli Emperor’s prosperous reign, Ming was booming and had ramped up trade, diplomacy and exchange with Joseon. Along with the eastern island country, Nippon’s, recent provocations, the two coupled nations were eager to reassure their alliance.

So the heavier coin purse for Mandarin speakers didn’t hurt.

It had also been the easiest choice for the two of them, having grown up close to the border of Ming together. Their township was one which flipped between the two languages in the same breath, so it came naturally to them. Perhaps Hanbin had been more practiced in speaking, though. His parents were servants to the Seok family, and though they’d grown up together as friends, Hanbin was the one who needed to barter with the merchants daily while Woohyun was tucked away behind his estate walls to study. Hanbin felt no ill will toward his friend, though, not when his Lord father had seen Hanbin’s potential and sponsored his studies. 

“Well it’s always an honor, your grace,” Woohyun teased, smiling up at him.

“Knock it off,” Hanbin hissed. It was half-hearted, though. He was already busy trying to digest the dense Mandarin scroll Woohyun was translating. His strength was in speaking since he hadn’t grown up studying to use Mandarin characters to read and write Korean like most of his nobleman colleagues did, so he still struggled to understand some uncommon characters. Most of his time in Seungmunwon was spent pointing at unfamiliar ones and making Woohyun say them aloud. 

“What is this scroll about today?”

“This one is boring, as always. It’s about some minor dispute between a Joseon and Ming fisherman on the Yalu border river,” Woohyun explained, pointing to a certain passage. “I never get the exciting ones,” he grumbled as he picked back up his brush to continue translating. 

“At least you get work,” Hanbin retorted, pouting at the stack of unfinished scrolls enviously. 

“Come work for us, Hanbin,” Jiwoong called without looking up from his work, brush moving in gentle controlled strokes over the parchment. The more senior scholar sat at the head of Woohyun’s table as his supervisor, and he was constantly attempting to recruit Hanbin. Though his attempts became more habitual than sincere once it became clear Hanbin was still clinging to hope.

“My answer is the same as before: I’m never taking another civil service exam ever again.” Hanbin shuddered for effect, getting a few chuckles out of the eavesdropping translators. “Besides, my skills would be wasted here. I want to talk and be in the room when it’s happening, not sit here and read about it after the fact.” 

“You say it’s a waste, but I say it’s what history will remember more,” Jiwoong retorted calmly, still not taking his eyes off his scroll. The friendly dispute between the two offices was a long-standing tradition; one everyone took part in. Interpretation and translation were sibling careers, after all.

“Yeah, Hyung, you could at least keep busy here. They just have you running errands and playing teacher at Sayeokwon,” Woohyun pointed out, voice quieter as he focused on his work. “These translations go directly to the palace as well.”

“I could go to the palace to interpret any time .” Hanbin crossed his arms, defiant. While he’d been a few times for this or that, he had yet to do anything of import within its high, glorious walls. 

“Mm-hm.” Woohyun nodded his head slowly, tall fabric scholar hat bobbing with him.

Hanbin rolled his eyes, knowing he was just digging his own grave. He snatched one of Woohyun’s untouched scrolls to skim over experimentally. It was also boring. Woohyun only got the tedious things to translate as the youngest and newest addition to Seungmunwon. It was likely that would change as soon as someone new joined the office and took his spot, though. If he didn't move up even sooner, that is. Woohyun’s father being an influential Lord ruler in his own right meant the son had little to worry about when it came to having a promising career.

Hanbin was about to give up and start bothering Woohyun to entertain himself when the thunder of hooves interrupted him. All the translators paused to look up as the horse stopped and someone came jogging up the steps, pushing the doors open. The eunuch was in a rush, but he still slowed once inside and bowed before approaching the Chief Translator, a little paper scroll outstretched.

“A hawk note?” Hanbin asked quietly, and Woohyun nodded, brush hovering and dripping ink onto his paper. “Aren’t those usually for urgent news?” Another silent nod.

Hanbin stood straighter, teetering on his toes to try to get a better glimpse at its contents as it was passed to the unphased Chief Translator. 

“An urgent message from Beijing,” the eunuch said. “The King eagerly awaits its content.”

The Chief Translator nodded wordlessly, taking his time to unwrap the note and peer at it through his spectacles. There was a tense minute of silence, everyone too curious to pretend to be working. Finally, the old man hummed, eyebrows arching. 

“Urgent, indeed. It appears, in light of recent aggressions, Ming has sent an envoy to reassure Joseon of their alliance if Nippon were to attempt an invasion. This is the third notice they sent out since the first two went without response and they suspect the hawks were unlucky or intercepted. The Wanli Emperor has sent his own cousin, Prince Zhang Hao of Fuzhou, Fujian, to continue good relations. He is likely to arrive, oh my, this week.”

The eunuch mumbled to him before sighing. “Please transcribe it quickly and I will deliver word to the King, preparations are in dire need.”

Hanbin finally tore his eyes away from the scene to gossip with Woohyun, who had the same idea. 

“Is Ming really so convinced Nippon will invade?” Woohyun asked, shifting in his seat.

“I think they’re more worried we will take Nippon’s offer to join them against Ming, and want to make sure we remain their tributary state and don't become a base for their enemy,” Hanbin said. “It’s almost flattering that they're scared of us.” Hanbin may have been raised in a state that worshiped Ming and Confucianist ideals, but his indoctrination had long failed due to the pure fallacy of his class. Woohyun was still a noble, though, and gave him one of those little disapproving pouts when Hanbin said something too radical. He found Woohyun simply didn’t like to think about these things, and enjoyed everything the way it was—which was, innocently, in his favor. 

“Perhaps. I think they just want to strengthen our bonds. I mean, they're sending a prince ! When was the last time a Ming Prince came to Joseon? They rarely even send envoys at all,” Woohyun wondered, already star-struck. Hanbin supposed it could be exciting, but he didn’t think it would be all that different from the stuffy, pretentious Joseon princes they interacted with quite often. Hanbin kept this to himself, though.

“Wait.” Woohyun suddenly grabbed his wrist. “Hyung, aren’t you the only Mandarin Interpreter at Sayeokwon right now? If the Prince is arriving this week, will anyone be back in time to attend to them?” 

Hanbin’s mouth popped open. “Oh. Um, besides the Junior Interpreters, no one will be back for at least two weeks. So, I guess… I will have to do it?” He pointed at himself, unsure if he was missing something or not. Surely the timing couldn’t be that much in his favor, for once. 

And for a while, he was sure he must have been mistaken, because no one came to Sayeokwon requesting assistance for a few tense days. Perhaps they believed the Ming envoy would bring their own interpreter? 

The wide cobble boulevard that Sayeokwon sat on led directly to the front gates of the Gyeongbokgung Palace, so Hanbin could clearly see all the preparations that were being rushed. Normally, any Ming envoy was met with quite a bit of ceremony and fanfare, but this time it was a Ming Prince. Even if said Prince was twenty-something in line for the throne, managing a small district of coastal Fujian, and not of much importance in the end. For any member of the royal Ming family, though, Joseon's king bent himself backward just to give a good impression. So all sorts of interesting and flashy things were brought in and out of the palace, repairs were quickly made, and construction was carried out in the blink of an eye. 

When someone finally came knocking, Hanbin was sitting at his desk in an empty Sayeokwon, pouring over a book on the Ming royal family—just in case. However, this Prince ‘Zhang Hao’ only appeared way on the edge of the genealogy chart and then once again in the section of notably skilled Ming princes (Prince Hao’s skills being archery and the guzheng zither, apparently). Hanbin was surprised to find he was young—being only one-year Hanbin’s senior—but also disappointed that he was so minor a prince that he didn’t even have a drawing of his likeness. At least not in this book.

Hanbin startled when someone cleared their throat.

“Greetings, nauri ,” a eunuch said from the open door, peering around hopefully, only to find Hanbin. “Er, the King requests a Mandarin interpreter to be present at the Ming Prince’s arrival this afternoon, and for all meetings thereafter. Is there anyone available?” 

Hanbin blinked at him. He couldn’t help cracking into a smile and jumping to his feet before collecting himself and clasping his hands behind his back dutifully. “Unfortunately, due to short notice, I am the only Senior Interpreter available. However, I’m willing and able to attend all meetings.” Until the other Interpreters arrive back from their missions, he supposed.

“Ah, I see. You are Sung Hanbin- nauri , correct?” the eunuch broached carefully, looking him over. Hanbin was well aware that for a task as important as this, a commoner interpreter was not desirable. Some envoys might even find it offensive, but what option did they have? This Prince was visiting for the first time anyway, and wouldn’t know his background necessarily.

Hanbin dipped his head in a little bow, smiling down at his feet just thinking about his colleagues' shocked faces when they would hear about this. Too busy exchanging poetry in Liaodong to receive a Prince of Ming. Serves them right.

“This humble servant is at the King’s bidding.”

 ≪ 📜 ≫

The King was a man in his late 30s, beard still black and the tell-tale wrinkles of a peaceful yet politically trifling reign only just starting to form under the brim of his crown. Hanbin had seen the man a few times now, having been in the palace for this or that over the years, but usually in his red and gold everyday hanbok. Today he adorned his black military uniform with its five-toed golden dragon embroidery and a wide-brimmed hat with long pheasant feathers laying across to one side, fully dressed for the momentous occasion of welcoming the Ming Envoy. 

At his side, his eldest three sons stood in similarly ceremonial adornments, the oldest of which, Crown Prince Gunwook, had only just come into manhood at 19. While Hanbin had not talked to the King before, he had been in many rooms with Prince Gunwook already. The man was intelligent and curious, having ventured into the various offices of government a handful of times to poke his nose into the mechanisms of the kingdom he was to inherit. The Crown Prince stood taller than his King father, straight-backed and completely at ease while his younger half-brothers shifted their weight uneasily. Hanbin hoped it was a good sign for the future of the kingdom.

Though a war with Nippon would leave no room for such a thing—no matter how great a King he might become. It was hard to know if the approaching Ming Envoy would bring the churning waters of war to them or not, marching in straight lines down the crowded boulevard toward the open, waiting gates of the palace.

The party was large but expected for the escorts of a Ming Prince. As they grew closer the distinction between the lightly armored guards and the backpack-laden servants became clear. And, floating right in the middle of them all, was the red and golden royal palanquin with its hand-painted doors and flared roof. Hanbin had never been inside one, but he imagined it would be sweltering on a summer day like this, not entirely envious.

The fashion of Ming had long invaded the noble wear of Joseon, making the sight of the Ming men’s hanfu oddly familiar. Though they differed in the more maximalist style of their hats, various layers of clothing, and the tight cinch of their robes at the waist. Hanbin was sure it wouldn’t be long before this, too, found its way into the capital's fashion. 

“His royal grace, Prince Zhang Hao of Ming!” Someone announced as the servants lowered the palanquin. A eunuch opened the door and Hanbin bent at the waist to bow. He rose again just in time to see the Prince duck under the short door and step out onto the cobblestone and into the sunlight. He wore flowing black robes embroidered with an intricate red and gold pheasant and flower pattern which swirled from his feet to his sleeves. Hanbin’s training went out the window as his polite glance turned into an impolite ogling. 

The Prince’s hair turned into an auburn halo in the sunlight where it peaked out from under the black brim of his tall crown, framing his slim, pale face and arresting features. What most drew Hanbin’s eyes was the bow shape of his pink lips, the thickness of his gently sloping eyebrows, and the dark dot of a mole under his right eye. He was clean-shaven and almost petite, eyes large and doe-like. The little information there was on Prince Hao somehow failed to mention his most striking quality: his looks.

Most contemporary men opted for a masculine gruffness that Hao seemed coolly adverse to, oozing a calm charisma despite his pretty face. Hanbin had heard this and that about the beautiful boys of Ming, thinking them an exaggeration, but now understood why word had spread so far. If anything, Hanbin was unprepared. Just looking upon him had Hanbin’s heart racing. 

Hanbin only realized his mistake when the Prince’s sweeping gaze met his own, pausing curiously as he caught Hanbin’s unauthorized staring. A breeze blew loose baby hairs around the Prince’s forehead, brown eyes flicking over him. Their gazes met and Hanbin felt oddly vulnerable, despite standing a healthy two-person length away. As if the Prince could blow him over with only a sigh like stacked cards and read their faces scattered around the courtyard. 

The Prince looked back at the King.

Hanbin regained himself, quickly ducking his head. He was here to do his job, he couldn’t get distracted by such unscholarly things as another man’s pretty face. 

The King greeted him and Hanbin turned his body, head still bowed, to the Ming Prince and repeated in Mandarin. There was a pause and Hanbin risked a worried glance, only to see the Prince looking at him again. There was a hint of bemusement. His look didn’t linger, though, returning to the King of Joseon with a bow and a greeting of his own.

≪ 📜 ≫

Hanbin, though thrilled to be finally working, did find being the sole interpreter for such an event rather taxing. The King was eager to please with big complicated statements, while the Ming Prince had an accented, dialectical speech Hanbin wasn’t entirely familiar with. He had done some reading on Hokkien, the other language spoken in Fujian, as well as the regional accent, but it was hard to know what it would be like without hearing it. To Hanbin, who had grown up speaking blunt Northern Mandarin, the Southern accent of the Prince’s Mandarin seemed soft and almost effeminate. A delicate flow from word to word, weaving around each tone almost flippantly. 

It was nice on the ears, but Hanbin had to be careful when translating. At least Prince Hao spoke curtly, which was a small relief. Less to translate. 

The greetings and discussion with the King were surprisingly brief and ended after the reasons for the arrival were deliberated and agreed upon. Hanbin was sure the brevity was due to untimely issues demanding the King’s presence with the court immediately—the two political factions of the lords butting heads once more. In the blink of an eye, the task the Prince had traveled nearly a month for was done. So the duty of entertaining Prince Hao for the remaining weeks fell to the young Crown Prince. 

After Prince Hao was set up in the luxurious guest house in the palace reserved for the Ming envoys, the two Princes attended a festive feast together. The table was as long as the pavilion, piled with beef, seafood, rice, and other delicacies all of which could not possibly be eaten by the scant party guests. Hanbin got to tag along to the rare occasion, but sat between and just behind them, turning back and forth to translate till his neck ached. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the delicious food, lest his stomach growl rudely. 

However, he wasn’t sure it would be heard over the strum of the zither, anyway, which occupied the silence between performances by a drumming dance troupe. The Princes talked between bites, sparing the hardworking dancers below the pavilion a glance every now and then.

Though Hanbin was familiar with Prince Gunwook, he was still pleasantly surprised by how nice his speech was. Unlike his father, he spoke very clearly and genuinely, broaching even the language barrier to chit-chat comfortably with Prince Hao (through Hanbin, of course).

Prince Hao was openly curious about many of Joseon’s cultural practices and day-to-day life. He asked countless questions, to which Crown Prince Gunwook was more than happy to explain in great detail. As they talked, it became clear Hao had not traveled much—even unfamiliar with some Northern Ming practices—and had maybe accepted this assignment more to sate his curiosity than to fulfill a political agenda. His willingness to openly not know things was a rarity among the upper class, who typically harbored a bloated ego and a superiority complex of baffling proportions. Prince Gunwook shared a similar vulnerability, so the two enthusiastically exchanged interesting facts and oohed and aahed back and forth.

It was a headache for Hanbin. 

Especially the eager Joseon Prince, who did not think to give him moments to interject with a translation and left it all for the end of his speech. Even with Hanbin’s scribbled notes in his notebook, it was hard to repeat it all in full.

After a particularly gruelingly long monologue about pansori, Hanbin had to start his interpretation off with a brief side note to Prince Hao. 

“Ah, I will have to paraphrase what the Crown Prince has lectured on, my apologies—”

Prince Hao snorted at this, which made the Crown Prince look Hanbin’s way questioningly. Nothing he’d said was meant to be funny. The Prince had laughed a few times already, but this time it sounded punched out of him, cheeks round and eyes scrunched. Happiness was a good look on him.

Hanbin quickly continued, the Ming Prince shyly covering his mouth with his hand and collecting himself before going back to nodding along seriously. It was then that Hanbin finally realized that Prince Hao was perhaps flattering Prince Gunwook, and might also be rather daunted by his wordy speeches.

Prince Hao was a convincing actor.

For the rest of the evening and into the night, it felt less like just the two Princes were talking, but that Hanbin was contributing somehow. An unspoken understanding had passed between them, one that Prince Gunwook was ignorant of due to the language barrier. Like being privy to an inside joke, it felt… good. It was nice to not just be a tool for once but to be a part of the conversation in some quiet way.

This feeling is what gave Hanbin the courage to bypass trying to translate a pun Prince Gunwook had made and was expectantly waiting on. As if a Korean pun would make sense in Mandarin.

“The Crown Prince has just made a joke about eels that I can’t properly translate, please laugh,” he quickly requested of the Ming Prince. 

Prince Hao’s thick eyebrows rose as he discreetly glanced at Hanbin before his lip curled into a smile and he turned back to Crown Prince Gunwook with a believable airy laugh. The Crown Prince smiled proudly and Hanbin let out a little relieved breath. 

The Prince and Hanbin exchanged an unintentional glance once more, both appreciative. Every time their gazes clashed, though, Hanbin would stutter or stumble over his words. It was like the Prince was unintentionally brandishing a weapon.

After a few more performances by the dancers and many rounds of all types of Joseon liquors, both Princes’ cheeks were rosy and their laughter came easily. It was at this point, after a lull in the conversation, that Prince Hao suddenly turned fully to Hanbin. The two had mostly been ignoring Hanbin so this startled him. 

“I must say, you are very good at speaking Mandarin. I was surprised. Are you really from Joseon?”

Hanbin opened and closed his mouth, unsure how to deal with being directly acknowledged when it was his job to disappear. He quietly responded, “Ah, no this humble interpreter still has a lot to learn. But, yes, I am of Joseon. However, I was born in the northern bordering Uiji territory. So I grew up speaking both languages,” he explained with downcast eyes.

Prince Hao hummed and nodded at this, eyes flicking over him inquisitively. Something about his gaze was intense, layered with a deep-set self-assurance that would make anyone nervous to be its subject. Like a hand-crafted gift under scrutinizing, eager eyes. “The envoy we normally send said that the interpreter was just 'okay', so I almost brought my own. It seems he was wrong though,” the Prince tsked, chuckling.   

“Ah, you’re too kind, your Highness. Normally, the Chief Mandarin Interpreter handles Ming envoys, I am just a replacement while he is away.” Perhaps he should have just bit his tongue, but his pride wouldn’t let him be confused for his senior. Especially when he was getting a compliment from a true native speaker, and such a handsome, enchanting one at that. 

“Is that so? Your skill is quite formidable then, mister replacement,” the Prince said, cracking his first joke thus far. It caught Hanbin off guard, his face suddenly hot. The Prince’s lip turned upward and he looked like he might say more.

“What is he saying?” Crown Prince Gunwook had run out of patience. The question wasn’t asked with frustration, as the Crown Prince was notoriously kind, but he shouldn’t have had to ask at all. Hanbin had, unprofessionally once more, forgotten about the man. 

“Ah, the Prince is asking about this humble interpreter's background. He is impressed with my skills.”

The Crown Prince looked to the Prince and nodded slowly at this, losing interest.

Hanbin found it hard to look up the rest of the meal, keeping his eyes on his little notebook and the aged wood floor as he worked. He wasn't sure if the Prince looked his way again or not, but he didn't ask Hanbin any more questions. 

It was a relief when the Ming Prince finally announced his desire to retire for the night. 

Hanbin quickly translated their goodbyes and was promptly relieved of his duties. He’d come to not expect gratitude for his service, and so he was a little taken aback when—after the Crown Prince had left—the Ming Prince turned to him and did just that. 

“Your presence was invaluable tonight, mister replacement interpreter. Thank you for working so diligently despite the late hour.” The Prince even went so far as bowing his head and Hanbin quickly scrambled to bow deeper, daring not to let a royal lower themselves to him.

When they rose again, the Prince was smiling at him. A flush had crept across his handsome face from the alcohol, painting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in baby pink. He would have been almost cute at that moment, if not for his eyes. Hooded and piercing, they seemed to beckon Hanbin closer— come take a look. Try me.

Heat flushed up from Hanbin’s stomach, making him queasy. He looked away, lest he listen. 

He wished the Prince a good night.

The Prince let out a huff that might have been a laugh, hesitating, before turning on his heels and padding away. Hanbin laid awake that night, staring at the ceiling, until sunrise.

≪ 📜 ≫

Prince Hao wore a simple silver top knot crown the next day, one that complemented the belt that cinched the blue hanfu around his slim waist so pleasantly. Perhaps it was this fit that finally drew Hanbin’s attention to the Prince’s physique. He was taller than Hanbin remembered, his lean figure and gentle mannerisms lending themselves to a slighter man. Maybe it had only been hard to recognize they were the same height due to the Prince’s habit of ducking his head when he smiled.

As Crown Prince Gunwook let an arrow fly only for a gust of wind to sweep it off target and stick it lamely in the ground, Prince Hao smiled once more. Lowering his face to hide his amusement while the Crown Prince cleared his throat. 

“The weather just isn’t ideal today,” Prince Gunwook grumbled, taking the next arrow his eunuch handed him. 

Hanbin, standing on the platform between them, turned to translate and Prince Hao scoffed good-naturedly. “Excuses.” He rolled his shoulders.

Hanbin didn’t translate this, keeping his grin to himself. 

“Can I try, then?” Prince Hao announced, turning to his own eunuch and taking the bow from him. 

The Crown Prince shot his next arrow, missed again, and finally stepped away with a sigh and a nod. “Be my guest.”

Prince Hao’s smirk spoke volumes, and it was clear the Crown Prince hadn’t done his research on their guest when he asked about a friendly archery competition for today's entertainment. Prince Gunwook was a skilled archer in all due respect—any noble worth his salt was—but as Hanbin watched the Ming Prince pull his bowstring back, steadfast and quick, he understood from his posture alone that he was on a whole different level. 

Having witnessed the way the wind threw the Crown Prince’s arrows, Hao aimed his bow far off the mark, in the direction of the breeze, and let it fly without a second of hesitation. It, simply going where it seemed it was always meant to, hit the bullseye dead center. 

Pushing some loose strands of hair out of his eyes, Prince Hao was nearly able to keep his expression neutral. If not for the corner of his lip betraying him and twitching ever so slightly upward. Prince Gunwook missed it, but Hanbin did not. 

Hanbin wasn’t sure the feeling that buzzed in his chest was simply admiration. Which he felt rather pathetic for, considering Prince Hao hadn’t spared him more than a polite glance today. Perhaps he simply had imagined things yesterday. Who wouldn’t want a Prince’s affection?

Prince Hao humbled the Crown Prince for a whole hour with his arrows. Their friendly competition grew serious by the end as Prince Gunwook tried to concentrate and Prince Hao grew cocky. Every snap of his bowstring and thunk of a perfect shot only seemed to solidify the smirk on his face, eyes dancing with pride. Hanbin became convinced the Prince might be the first noble to ever be able to justify their ego with raw talent. Hanbin could watch him shoot all day and might have if not for the Crown Prince being called away for his lessons. 

He was still young, after all, and hadn’t memorized all the classics yet. He did look slightly relieved to be dragged away, though, having not won a single match but either too competitive or too polite to give up. Before the man could properly bid his farewell, though, the Ming Prince suddenly spoke up.

“Could I possibly borrow this interpreter?” 

Hanbin looked between them and at the back of Prince Hao’s head, startled, before remembering that he had to translate for the Crown Prince. 

“The Prince is… requesting to borrow this humble interpreter.”

Prince Gunwook looked at Hanbin and then his eunuch, as if for confirmation. “I don’t see why not.”

“Ah, good. I was just hoping to learn some Korean before I leave.”

Hanbin glanced at the Ming Prince as he translated. 

“Well, if learning is your goal, we have teachers who may be better suited,” Prince Gunwook suggested eagerly. A commoner teaching a Prince was unorthodox, even if Prince Hao was unaware of Hanbin’s status.

“I appreciate the suggestion, but he will do just fine,” the Prince said with a bow, tone leaving no room for discussion.

The Crown Prince nodded, eyeing Hanbin from head to toe as if he was really looking at him for the first time, and perhaps he was. It was odd to feel seen, and not entirely a good feeling. The Ming Prince seemed to like to draw attention to him, bringing him out of the shadows and into his radiant light. 

“Well, I leave him at your service, then.”

“Perfect.” The Prince looked over his shoulder at him with the same gaze from before— I dare you to take a bite.

≪ 📜 ≫

“Wait here while his highness changes,” the Prince’s head guard—a man of sharp features—ordered. He too was rather pretty for a military man. Perhaps the standards of masculinity were different in Fujian.

Hanbin dipped his head, hands grasped firmly in front of himself as he stood outside the Prince’s chambers. The man hadn’t spoken a word to him on the walk back, and so Hanbin’s nerves only grew. He truly wasn’t the most qualified to teach Korean, having only really taught Mandarin before, but he supposed he could handle a basic lesson. The Ming Prince seemed not to know a single word, after all.

After some time, the doors opened and Hanbin shuffled into the guest quarters, bowed at 45 degrees.

“Ah, please relax,” the Prince chirped and Hanbin righted himself as the last of the servants filed out, leaving them completely alone. The Ming Prince had set himself up at a desk on the floor, cushions waiting on either side. The man was in much simpler robes than before, perhaps only adorning one measly layer under his shawl. 

Behind him sat the ornate bed frame on its dias, barely hidden by sheer curtains. 

It was all very… coy. 

Hanbin tried not to let his mind get creative, even as his pink ears betrayed him. He was a logical man and knew that the Prince had no reason to maintain formality around a government official of such low status as himself. It was not unusual for the King to receive news from servants in the bath, after all.

As for why the Prince had requested him, specifically…? And why was he receiving him in his bed chambers? Hanbin was sure there was a logical reason as well. After all, the likelihood of Prince Hao sharing his same disposition was slim. The idea had festered from only the seed of the man’s (likely) innocent kindness and Hanbin should be ashamed for letting himself hope. A pinch of tenderness wasn’t always an extension of flirtation. Perhaps his own desires were casting the evening in a rosy hue.

“Please make yourself comfortable, Shifu,” Prince Hao said, gesturing across the little table at the cushion on the other side. His voice was unassuming, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with something akin to delight. 

Hanbin startled at being called ‘master’ but collected himself before his blush could spread, sitting. “Don’t lower yourself to me, his Highness can call this servant Hanbin.” 

“Your name is just Han-Bin?” The Prince clarified. “How… old are you?” He looked Hanbin from his folded knees to his head slowly as he asked this.

“Sung Han Bin, Your Highness. Senior Interpreter at Sayeokwon. I’m a year younger than his highness.” Hanbin bowed his head, swallowing. Facing the Prince like this was much more taxing than he’d anticipated, unable to look him in the face for longer than a moment, snagging his gaze every time without fail.

“Don’t call me ‘your highness’ anymore,” The Prince ordered, finally looking away as he opened a blank book and started to work his palm into the seam, loosening the spine.  

“Ah, what should this servant call… the Prince, then?” Hanbin broached, watching him make quick work of preparing the book. The Prince’s hands were unblemished and lean, but strong. He worked with efficiency and grace, as Hanbin was coming to realize he did so with everything.

“Hao is fine. I would be too soon to request to be called Gege, no?” 

Hanbin’s mouth fell open, blinking.  

Oh, he’s joking. It would be far too improper to use an honorific reserved for very intimate friends—and, often, lovers. Hanbin forced out a laugh that sounded more like a cough, nodding quickly in agreement.

Hao smiled, finally laying his hands back on his knees. “Since we’re here to learn the language, how would you address me in Korean? As if we are friends.”

“Ah, I don’t think it’s appropriate for this servant to—”

“We are alone, Shifu. Don’t be shy. I find all this formality stuff suffocating, anyway. I want you to be friendly with me. Being an interpreter makes you a government official as well, right? Our class difference isn’t so big,” Hao said eagerly. When Hanbin only stared at him warily, he added, “It makes me feel lonely to be addressed so formally. In Ming, I’m barely a part of the royal family. I grew up with scholars like yourself as peers in Fujian.”

Hanbin doubted that he grew up with commoner scholars, but Hanbin didn’t feel it was his place to correct him. Prince’s kindness might run dry as soon as he found out Hanbin’s background. Most royals’ did. 

Hesitantly, he did as asked. “In Korean, a younger man calls an older friend hyungnim. I would call you this, or, um… Hao-hyung .” Hanbin’s blush was painting his cheeks now, nerves making him warm. If anyone caught him calling the Ming Prince this, he’d surely be punished. Despite that, though, saying it still sent a thrill down his spine. Everything about Hao’s daring taunting did.

“Oh, I see.” The Prince nodded, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Call me this, then—while we are doing lessons we can be friends.”

“If your hi—If hyungnim wants,” Hanbin said, sounding horribly awkward. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he could speak Korean at all. Why was it so much more intimate in his native tongue?

“Should we start?” Hao asked, unshaken. 

Logical reasons, Hanbin reminded himself before taking a deep breath and picking up the brush to start drawing out the Hangul alphabet. Though King Sejong had made it in earnest over 150 years ago, Hanbin rarely used it, as most officials and nobles continued with the borrowed, arduous, mandarin characters. Drawing a line in the sand between those who could afford and had the time to learn to read the characters and those who could not. Hanbin had learned hangul, though, as part of the past king's program for literacy amongst commoners. He was maybe one of the few officials who was raised in a low enough class to have used it every day. So it made him feel a little immature now, associating its use more with childhood. However, he felt Hangul would be easier to teach, as was its intended design.

Hao was an exceptional student, absorbing and retaining everything Hanbin threw at him. Hanbin was making the lesson up on the spot really, but he almost felt competent with the way Hao followed along. He asked questions and listened eagerly, the perfect student. Within an hour, he was stringing together simple sentences. His accent was thick, but Hanbin found it deeply endearing. 

If nothing else, Hao’s seriousness was ‘reassuring’ that Hanbin really had been reading into things and that he’d truly only been summoned for a lesson. Or at least at first.

“Then would you be Hanbin- dae-gam ?” 

“I wish, but unfortunately, not,” Hanbin said with a chuckle. “Since you’re a Prince you can refer to me by name, but even those lower than me don’t call me dae-gam. It’s reserved for noblemen of high ranking, even above yeong-gam. The servants call me nauri, for working men.”

“Are you not high ranking? You’re serving me and the Crown Prince, after all.” Hao blinked at him innocently, cocking his head.

“Well…” Hanbin glanced away. “Interpreters aren’t awarded nobleman status like other government professions in Joseon.”

“Oh, you aren’t a noble.” It wasn’t a question. Hao pursed his lips along with a nod.

“I hope this isn’t a disappointment to His Highness, I can get someone else to teach you if—”

“I told you not to call me that,” Hao interjected, waving a hand. “I would prefer Hao-ge or whatever you said before in Korean.”

“Hyung…?” 

Hao nodded, propping his chin on his hand. After a moment of silence, he added, “Do you think I’m so crass as to care if you are of noble blood or not? Why should it matter when you are so…” he waved a hand around at Hanbin, “ talented .” He said the word with emphasis, eyebrow cocked. 

What exactly are they really talking about right now?

“I meant no offense. Most aren’t as open-minded as—” he hesitated and readjusted himself, “—Hao- ge .”

“I like when you say it.” The Prince smiled at him from the perch his chin had made on his hand, pointer finger thoughtlessly tracing the outline of his own lips. 

Hanbin ducked his head.

“But yes. I just don’t really care. I’m a bad student of Confucius, you could say.” There he was waving that vague hand again, demanding a bit of overthinking on Hanbin’s part. Yes, Confucius said societal hierarchy was important, but he also said that men must only lay with women. A lot of things could make one a bad student of Confucius.

Was it overthinking if the implications were barely implications at all? 

“I see. Well, I’m also not the best at following the texts as other scholars. So I’m not one to judge,” Hanbin said slowly with a chuckle. Best to return vagueness. Perhaps only someone like himself would be so overly aware of these things, and Hao might not be like him.

The Prince made a little scandalized face and covered his mouth, “Oh Shifu, how bad of us.” Then they were both laughing. Hao hid his smile behind his hand like before, delicate fingers barely brushing the smooth skin of his dimpled cheeks. Everything about him was so effortlessly regal, yet… daring.

“I’m sure you’re told this a lot, but you’re very charming,” Hanbin chirped before his senses could catch up with him. 

Hao’s laugh trailed off pleasantly as he cocked his head at this, eyes wide. “I actually don’t hear that at all, no. I’m very quiet most of the time. I think most people find me cold. I hear I’m more mysterious than ‘charming’.”

“Well, that’s obviously not true.”

Hao shook his head, pouting a little. “I’m chatty because I have to be. It would be bad if I was here as the envoy and barely tried to extend my emperor cousin's kindness.” 

“Ah, I am also someone you intend to receive this kindness?” Hanbin meant it in jest, but he did kind of wonder. Was he only nice because he had to be?

“No. I’m chatty with you because you make me curious, Sun Hanbin.” He pronounced his name wrong, but it was cute, so Hanbin didn’t correct him.

Hanbin arched his brow, snorting. “In what way?”

Hao hummed, arms crossed as he looked Hanbin over. “I’m curious why you look at me like that .” He pointed a finger at his face and Hanbin’s smile dropped.

“Ah… I…” He wasn’t sure in what way he was looking at the Prince, but he could take a guess.

“Do I just make you nervous? You blush quite a lot. Is this your first time talking to a Ming Prince?” Hao uncrossed his arms to place them on the table between them, leaning forward. Hanbin could smell the hints of his citrus perfume this close, eased over to him by the heat of his breath, fanning like a phantom over Hanbin’s face.

Hanbin gladly took the excuse, wringing his fingers. “It is. I’ve conversed with his highness, the Crown Prince, before and a few of his brothers briefly, but not to this extent. I think any commoner would feel… humbled. I’m actually the chatty type, normally.” He hoped his chuckle didn’t sound too awkward. He did blush a lot in front of the Prince. Maybe he wouldn’t if Hao didn't look at him like that.

“Is that so? I guess I should stop being so friendly, hm?” 

“No, Hao-ge is perfectly fine. I’m just…” overthinking. 

Hao nodded even as he trailed off, humoring him. “Well, I give you permission to treat me like a colleague. I need at least one friend in this foreign land.” After Hanbin grinned and dipped his head in agreement, Hao pointed at the paper with a frown and asked him how to pronounce the next word.

Hanbin was not entirely relieved by this change of subject, but let it happen. Just in case.

It was when Hao insisted on learning how to write his own name in Korean that he got up and sat next to Hanbin. He’d done it without prompting, plopping down in a pool of silk next to him, their knees brushing and his perfume making itself known again.

The Prince didn’t look at him, but instead at the paper he’d placed next to Hanbin’s, copying the letters slowly and precisely. Hanbin's palms started to sweat. He tried not to show how shaken he was by this, swallowing and scooting a hair away. However, as Hao’s brush moved in fluid short strokes across the paper, he couldn’t resist taking his chance to observe the Prince up close. 

Hanbin had known of one mole under his eye but was mystified to find another on his cheek, and then another. His eyelashes were long too, fanning across his flawless skin every time he blinked. He was the type of handsome court ladies could spend days writing poems about, dedicating prose to every feature and conjuring winding metaphors to even attempt to capture his charm in words. Perhaps it would be a hopeless task, filling books and books without end. 

Then Hao was looking at him too. The Prince was caught off guard for a moment, perhaps catching a glimpse of that deaf desire—one that could indeed fill books—in Hanbin’s eyes. He didn’t shy away, though, his brush stilling on the paper. 

Hanbin should have looked away. 

Quietly, “Hanbin.” Hao placed a hand on his knee, holding him prisoner with that gaze of his. The one he’d only turned on Hanbin thus far. Was it wrong to dare to feel special? 

It was getting hard to ‘logically reason’ his way out of this.

“Are you married?” 

The question startled him out of his daze and he blinked, finally finding the power within himself to cast his eyes downward. However, Hao’s hand rested on his knee, unmoving. “No.” 

Hao considered this. Then, quietly still, asked, “Why not?”

Hanbin let out a breath, trying to stop himself from overheating. “I’ve never wanted to, I suppose. I don’t have the time. I’m still young.” His honesty was a fatal result of how horribly distracting Hao’s hand was. The Prince made a captive of him so easily.

“Mm, I see .” 

Did he, though? Did he really? Hanbin risked a glance, only to find confirmation in the easy, victorious grin on the Prince’s lips. In the single slow pet of his thumb on Hanbin’s leg, sending tingles north. 

Oh. 

“Is-Is Hao-ge married?” Hanbin stuttered out, clinging to anything to buy time.

“No.” Hao’s eyes fell to his lips for only a brief, eternal moment, before returning upward. Hanbin couldn’t breathe. 

“Why not?” Hanbin echoed back to him. Prince’s usually married young, but maybe since Hao wasn’t the oldest son in his family, he could drag it out. Maybe Hao was looking for something else. He seemed to be looking for it in Hanbin’s eyes now.

The corner of Hao’s shapely lips curled upward. “Because I want to enjoy this as long as I can.” 

Hao leaned in and kissed him with the same confidence he took to everything; an arrow finding its target like it was the most natural thing in the universe. Something promised long before, finally realized in the clash of lips. Hanbin’s breath collected in his chest briefly before emptying between them. Then he was recuperating and pressing forward, enthusiastically into the path of danger. 

Hao’s hand slid upward, running into his waist and grabbing him there, thumb digging into his hip bone as he teetered forward in his eagerness. 

The first time Hanbin had dared to lay his hand on another man in such an ‘undignified’ way had been years ago, still too young to rationalize the consequences or understand that those feelings weren't something he could control—and that he wasn’t broken for it. They’d both been young so it had been awkward and desperate, bright but burning out fast. Hanbin had found few other man who he was willing to lay himself bare for since, not when doing so with the wrong person could cost him everything. 

Hao, even if they were strangers all considering, didn’t feel like the wrong person. His tight grip and beckoning lips gave Hanbin the assurance that there was no risk in letting unspoken desires come to life here—gave him the courage to put his own fingers on the man’s nape, venturing into the soft baby hair at the base of his neck. 

“You are very bad at hiding your feelings,” Hao whispered cheekily between kisses. “I knew almost right away. What you wanted… how you felt.”

“Mm.” Hanbin chased his lips, brain buzzing too fast to form proper words. “I liked Gege right away, that’s why. So beautiful.”

It was Hao’s turn to hum happily, tilting his head and deepening the kiss with the beckoning of his tongue and the wet slide of his lips. Hanbin grabbed his waist with his other hand, pulling the Prince closer, needing more. There was no reason to be shy anymore. 

Hao abandoned his brush and climbed into Hanbin’s lap, straddling him in a flurry of robes that draped around them both. Hao grinned down at him as he placed his hands on Hanbin’s interpreter's hat, waiting for permission before gently taking it off and setting it aside with care. Then Hao looked over his face, cupping his cheek in his soft, manicured hands. There was a pregnant silence as they looked at each other, a mutual, wordless understanding passing between them before the Ming Prince leaned down to kiss him once more, desperate this time. Teeth clashed and fingernails left their marks on soft flesh.

Of course, Hanbin knew there were other men like himself out there, but it always felt so very rare and precious to find each other. Lonely and queer. When outward expression wasn’t an option, these quiet moments of acknowledgment and joy meant the world. Nothing felt quite like it. Having the Prince in his arms made him dizzy.

They kissed and kissed, pawing at each other and panting, accidentally pulling strands from carefully crafted topknots till they slumped in their fastenings. Hanbin reached in and felt the soft peaks of the Prince’s nipples with his thumb while the favor was returned with a tight squeeze to his side, to the back of his neck. They broke apart only to catch their breaths, a string of saliva bridging their bruised lips. Hao knocked their foreheads together, looking into his eyes. 

“I know it’s unorthodox, and I hope I’m not presumptuous to Shifu’s preferences, but… will you take me?” For the first time, the Prince appeared to be bashful. The apples of his cheeks darkened. “I prefer it that way.”

In all honesty, Hanbin, for a moment, was taken aback. Because Hanbin was typically younger and lower class than his more bold male partners, he’d always taken a receiving role in these encounters. He’d assumed this was no different, as Hao was so far above him socially that he could not imagine the man willing to submit himself in any sense of the word. Perhaps he should have, though. There was very little orthodox about the Prince.

Hanbin briefly imagined himself on top of the Prince and licked his lips eagerly. He raised a brow, running a hand up Hao’s back. “Is that an order, your highness?”

“Perhaps. Why, would you rather receive me?” Hao brushed some hair out of his face, hand moving to the back of his neck and squeezing commandingly. 

“I’d be happy to serve you however you saw fit,” he said honestly, grasping the man’s waist. He’d never had much preference to start, anyway. Circumstances never let him choose in the first place. He’d do whatever Hao wanted—now that he knew Hao wanted him at all. 

“Is that so? Such a good boy,” Hao purred, grinding down with a roll of his hips and a gasp. The hard outline of him was electric. Hanbin swore in his mother tongue, already embarrassingly hard. Hao smiled and shoved him to the ground with gusto, hands moving to start untying Hanbin’s hanbok as the interpreter let out a huff. 

“Not very patient.”

“No,” Hao agreed, making quick work of undoing layer after layer of what few fastenings remained. Hanbin had the impression he was well-practiced. “I was very patient all day already. I sat through hours of lessons, just now.” 

“So this was your plan all along? You didn’t actually want to learn, you just wanted to get your hands on me? How improper.” 

“Perhaps I wanted both. Don’t act like you didn’t think about it as well.”

“How could I not, when you invite me into your bedroom?”

Hao smiled at this. At least it made Hanbin feel validated—perhaps victorious even.

Then he was pushing Hanbin’s innermost robe to the side and placing his hands directly on Hanbin’s chest, cupping his pecs. “You were hiding such an amazing body this whole time,” he said in awe, running his palm down the grooves of Hanbin’s muscles. 

Hanbin let out a startled chuckle, laying his hands on Hao’s thighs in return. “Would you have wanted me to waltz into the palace shirtless?” 

“If I told you to, would you?” Hao cocked a brow, dismissing his humor with something oddly serious in his eyes. 

Hanbin’s breath fell shallow, trapped somewhere in his chest. He swallowed. “Yes.”  

Hao only smiled at that, releasing him from his captive gaze to push a hand up Hanbin’s chest and caress his neck. His robes were falling off his shoulders from Hanbin’s exploring, pooling in his elbows and revealing more of that milky white perfection. He was so gorgeous that Hanbin couldn’t help climbing onto his elbows so he could lean up and capture his lips. Then they were tumbling back to the floor, leaving a trail of robes behind as Hao ushered them to his bed. 

They fell down into the sheets with Hanbin on top of the Prince, admiring the naked curve of his waist with his hands. The way his fingers fell into the dips and grooves that sculpted the man. While Hao was not as built, his figure was still beautiful, soft in a way only a pampered, easy-lived noble could be. Splattered with constellations of moles. 

Unlike Joseon, where her rulers were descendants of gods, Ming emperors were said to have received the Mandate of Heaven—their divine right to rule everything under the sky. Hanbin was typically skeptical of these things, but looking at Hao, he understood how close a human could come to being a god. How one could be divine. 

He was so exquisite, and all at Hanbin’s mercy.

Hao smiled at his gawking—not seeming at all unused to it—before rolling onto his stomach. The sheets came with him, cupping his round butt and curling around his waist as the Prince reached blindly around his pillow. Hanbin’s fingers twitched, imagining sinking his teeth into the meat of his butt. Even in the context, it felt rather inappropriate, though. Too intimate for what would surely be just a single night of fun. That's all these things could be, after all.

Hanbin fought back a frown before Hao rolled back over with a vial of oil in his hands, presenting it to him. Hanbin accepted it, quickly planting a kiss on his lips as thanks. The Ming Prince watched him with hooded eyes, some of his hair falling loose around his forehead. 

“You know what you’re doing, right?” Hao trailed a distracting finger down Hanbin’s chest.

“Yes,” he replied gruffly. Hanbin had to keep himself focused by tearing his gaze away from him, parting the man’s legs, and parking himself between them. While he hadn’t performed such a task on another before, he’d done it for himself enough to know the lay of the land—to know what felt good. 

The Prince grabbed Hanbin’s shoulders when he started circling his rim with a finger and pushing in. For such a calm and collected man, he seemed to lose his cool as soon as Hanbin moved onto the second finger, petting at that magic spot until Hao was whimpering like a puppy. It made Hanbin feel incredibly powerful, his name falling from the Ming Prince’s lips as he opened him up with the thrust of his fingers. Bringing a royal to shambles with nothing but his hands.

The noises he made when Hanbin actually pushed himself inside, though, were something else entirely. It was a little painful at first, as always, the Prince hissing and clutching him with biting nails, but after he adjusted and Hanbin started rocking in and out, Hao’s mouth fell open in a series of aborted moans. He threw his head back and wrapped his legs around Hanbin’s hips, ordering him to go faster. 

Hanbin was nothing but a humble servant, hiking the man’s legs up around his elbows and folding him, hands planted under his armpits. At this angle, he was hitting Hao’s sweet spot and the man gasped, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open as Hanbin pounded into him. He’d been holding back out of politeness, but if Hao wanted rough then Hanbin would give him rough. 

He hadn’t been this turned on in years. The Prince was just so all-consuming. And all his to consume.

He was warm and tight around Hanbin, and he was so focused on making sure Hao was enjoying it that he did not recognize his own fast-approaching climax. It arrived swiftly and with a bursting euphoria, hips stilling and a whimper squeezing out of him as he buried himself in the Prince. He hadn’t felt this good in ages, toes tingling with satisfaction.

The feeling was quickly eclipsed, though. 

“Shit,” he panted, face buried in Hao’s collarbone. “I’m sorry, you just felt so…” he decided it wasn’t worth finishing his sentence, sighing instead. Maybe giving required just as much practice as receiving. He felt foolish.

“Got too excited?” Hao’s voice was teasing as he pet Hanbin’s hair, making him flush. “Why are you hiding? Are you embarrassed?” 

Hanbin peeled himself away, overcome by humiliation and only able to nod under the man’s gaze, a smile pulling at the older man’s lips. “Ah, poor thing.” Hao pet him like a puppy and Hanbin wondered why it made his core heat the way it did. “If you’re so sorry, though, why don’t you go ahead and show it?”

Hanbin blinked at him dumbly, unprepared for the scolding. Hao was speaking so kindly, eyes wide and waiting, but his words hung expectantly. “Hyung…”

“Don’t you want to be good for me?” A glint passed over the Prince’s eyes—lips parted prettily—and Hanbin’s insides stirred, nodding before he recognized he was doing so. Hao smiled at Hanbin approvingly, fingers wrapping around his neck. He tugged his head down suddenly, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Then finish what you started.” His words slid off his tongue like smoke, and Hanbin shivered.

It was like Hao reached inside him and grabbed something, pulling him to attention. It was freeing, oddly enough, letting Hao take control of the interaction and honing his humiliation into action with such ease. Hao wielded power well. A Prince in every right.

“Yes, your Highness.”

His ears flushed as picked himself up from the Prince's chest, slowly unsheathing himself and hissing as fluid dribbled out onto the sheets between them. “Ah… I’m also sorry about that .”

“It’s fine,” Hao said, that sly smile still marring his lips. “I like it more like that, anyway.” When he met Hanbin’s eyes, Hao’s were still hooded with arousal. He kneaded the back of Hanbin’s neck. “I like to feel my lover’s resolve break, I suppose. I like it to linger. Maybe next time I’ll let you even plug me up, hm? If you’re good, that is.” 

Hanbin stared at him dumbly, having never taken part in such dirty talk. It was incredibly hot—and reassuring. Next time. The window had not closed, in fact Hao seemed to be giving him more than generous wiggle room to make up for his mistake. To worship and beg for forgiveness. He would be a fool to let this slip through his fingers.

Then Hao was kissing him again, slow and hungry. Coaxing away his nerves with the counseling of his lips. 

Hanbin could not muster himself to fuck the Prince again so soon—though he desperately wanted to—so he instead pressed three fingers back into the man. Hao gasped in response, body surging up toward Hanbin at the sudden intrusion, kiss breaking as he keened. His fingers weren’t nearly as long, but he rocked them into Hao in his best attempt at impersonation. He felt his own release squelch around his fingers, easing the glide as he found his target inside once more.

The Prince’s mouth fell open, collapsing back to the bed as Hanbin worked. Hanbin placed a hand on his stomach, keeping him pinned as he backed up and sank down between his legs. Hanbin licked his lips as Hao’s length bounced in his vision.

“Ah~ Hanbin!” 

The Prince came after much work, milked till tears were collecting in his eyes as he dirtied his own stomach. Hanbin was relieved, brushing the back of his hand over his lips and collecting the spit and other unsightly things there. He stretched his sore jaw as he climbed back over Hao. Hanbin caged the man in as he hung his head over him, skin glistening with sweat. 

He hardly felt tired, though. He was alight with satisfaction, watching the Prince try to catch his breath. Though he was sure the victory would taste even sweeter had he won it with his cock, but alas. 

“Hanbin,” Hao breathed, hand finding his neck and drawing his attention to the Prince’s flushed face. “I think you were made for me,” he whispered. Maybe it was just meaningless words, fostered in the daze of lust, but it made Hanbin’s insides stir. Most dangerous of all, it let him hope.

Hanbin hummed, nuzzling their faces together, lips brushing but not meeting. “Maybe, tonight, I am.”