Spring Poetry

Apologies for any linguistic, cultural or historical errors, since this isn't my usual 'world'!
Credit for all characters to ByeonDuck and Painter of the Night.

~~

"Hanami", Baek Na Kyum smiled peacefully, lowering his head in reverent bow to the parchment of spring poetry calligraphy hanging pride of place upon the hushed chamber's wall.

One last glance back to his sleeping, lightly-snoring, Lord - scantily-winking blanket draped across powerful, muscular limbs that had glistened and shivered with the salt of their marrying sweat as the younger had ridden the elder's graceful thrusts up a staircase to their own, moaning heaven just a hand's count of hours earlier - and with a blush that stirred to decorate soft cheeks, Na Kyum was gone.

Out, out, into the diamond-dewed freshness of an early April's morn. All emerald buds, bejewelled magnolias and azaleas as past winter's hibernating creatures stretched and yawned from their long slumber in burrows beneath frozen earth.

Beyond the kingdom of the compound, Na Kyum climbing a steep, grassy slope in echo of the arc of a rising sun that meandered higher into clear, cloudless skies with each journey onward through the waking season.

Step by step - betwixt terraces of apple and apricot blossom, pear and plum through to quince, in a pink and white chiffon tutu-ed landscape, mount's stream sparkling it's way down the hillside, playful jumps from pebble to smooth, grey pebble en route.

Gone were the darkest days of winter's gloom. Of fatal threat and gruesome, horror show intrigue. Mysteries that lurked as murderous shadows cast in flickering, flailing candlelight across whitest, bloodstained snow. Melted away to bruising memories only, with the last drips of sharpest, ebbing icicles on their deathbeds.

The guardian of spring poetry had, indeed, protected Yoon Seungho and Baek Na Kyum.

Slight figure climbing on, rising up, until at last he reached the orchard zenith he sought.

"Ahhhh", Na Kyum's eyes drifted closed as sweet scents enchanted his nostrils, tuneful twittering of nesting Yellow Throated Buntings chorusing nature's symphony from their branches: Cherry blossoms.

//

"Cast out this sprig from our chamber", Yoon Seungho had thundered from his messy luncheon table days before, glacial orbs piercing as swords above a scowl so commanding as to send any an army to its own willing massacre.

Yet not little Kyum, with the eyes that only danced in answer.

"Are you jealous of the pretty petals, my Lord?", teasing, toying with his mate.

"Not the blooms themselves, which anyway pale and whither beside your beauty", voice softening infinitely as the elder man manoeuvred to pull Na Kyum close, until the taller and shorter were kneeling together atop straw-matted boards. "But the way they have possessed you of late. You paint them, you dream of them, heart and mind occupied only with cherry blossom. She is stealing you away, making a cuckold of me..."

Giggles as neck nuzzles and sniff kisses tickled, before the younger rallied himself to defend against the dizzying onslaught, grasping Seungho's chin to magnetise gazes together, before, shyly:

"Then whomst should I dream and paint, noble Sir?"

Direct and ferocious, "Me, only me, just as you used to. Dream of my fingers and tongue inside you, playing your sweet melodies like a harp. Paint my cock as an act of worship, sculpted by the gods only to bring you a paradise of pleasures", breaking free of Na Kyum's light grip to claim parted, rosebud lips in heated kisses, as if to win his heart's prize back from the silently watching flowers in a wine goblet's makeshift vase...