Sternenstaub und Abendfeuer

36. Mindbreak

TW: Smut, degradation, rough sex, light pain

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The door creaked open under San's controlled hand. It took him longer than expected to make his way up to Seonghwa's room over the single staircase. When Seonghwa found him in his full suit of armour, it served as an explanation. San must have come from outside straight up here.

"Did you just arrive?" Seonghwa asked since the seraph rarely risked scratching up his polished armour for casual sword fighting. He must have returned from his trip later than anticipated.

San's gloved and steel-guarded fingers rested on the hilt of his sword. His posture exuded power. What did his people think in the Vault of Heaven? Did they regard him with awe for his presence, or was he no more than a soldier to them?

"Yeosang caught me in the entrance hall. I had been meaning to talk to you, anyway."

Shy, Seonghwa brushed his hair back.

"You could have taken a rest first. There was no need to hurry. You may return after you washed up," he offered, embarrassed at not checking first whether San made it home well. But his purpose reflected in San's eyes. The seraph had been eager to be called here, and it was in his interest not to waste a second obeying.

"I may as well rest here. How have you been during this week, my peerless paramour? I hope your politics didn't wear you out?"

Seonghwa appreciated him for caring, adored his attention so, so much, but his nerves were strung in a way he seldom experienced. As he beckoned San inside, his response was more exasperated than he was used to from himself.

"Hongjoong, rather than my politics," he huffed, almost pouty. He could have caught himself, could have reeled back, but he had enough of the waiting and dancing around each other. He needed San, craved him as he craved for air.

The seraph's chain mail jingled when he turned to raise a brow at Seonghwa.

"Hongjoong? Doesn't he respect your sense of duty most?" Ready to have a talk with the sorcerer if he needed to, San directed his frown at the door.

Seonghwa exhaled, reeling in the bubbling violence that wanted to shove San backwards onto his bed. He was never quite himself when San pushed him to this extent.

"To make a baby," Seonghwa deadpanned, arms crossing. He knew he hit a nerve, knew San lay awake in the vault thinking about Seonghwa's body around him. Neither of them deserved the torment any longer.

San's fingers tightened around his sword.

"So he has been diligent. No wonder. He always has something to prove," San chuckled, though jealousy mingled with the darkness simmering in those eyes.

Seonghwa stared at him, heated and restless and needing him so badly.

"You have yet to stake your claim. How long will you make me wait?"

San bared his teeth, but he was better at reeling in all the unpleasant emotions. Usually, both of them were masters at their push and pull, but Seonghwa reached his limit.

"If you are happy with the present dynamic, I won't intrude. I offer myself merely to-"

"Nonsense," Seonghwa hissed. His hand shot forward to catch the leather collar of San's vest, drawing their bodies against each other. He was so lithe before San's broad form in the heavy armour, so breakable. The hand hovering over his waist to catch him wielded such strength.

"Enough chasing me around. Have me or I swear to the stars, I will tie you to this chair right here," Seonghwa threatened with a careless wave at the desk somewhere behind them. He didn't care. He only cared about San's impeccable appearance, the heat radiating through his clothes, and the want in his eyes.