Kittisawat Dynasty and Theerapanyakul Dynasty have been at war for almost ten years. War for power and the throne has been hanging above the two kingdoms like the most vicious storm... However, His Majesty Kimhan has a plan.
"Is Your Majesty sure th...
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Porchay wants to scream and push Kimhan away, he is ready to do it when Kimhan's lips don't land on his own, instead, he feels Kimhan's cold fingers wrapping around his hand and soft lips touching his bleeding palm.
"Kiss... is a kiss, no matter which part of the body it caresses, little flower," Kimhan whispers in Porchay's ear and stands up, still holding Porchay's hand to help him stand up as well.
Porchay's knees are trembling. He doesn't understand; Kimhan went so far, so why did he suddenly back away? What is his next step? Is he planning something bigger for later? A paralyzing fear holds Porchay's heart in shakles. He doesn't even want to think about lying with Kimhan in one bed... or even worse.
He sees Kimhan nodding at someone standing behind them and then bowing for the Monk of Phoenix temple, who is slowly disappearing into the night. He wants Kimhan to let him go, so he tries to push him away when he is preoccupied with other things than Porchay, but Kimhan's hold on Porchay is too strong and the moment Kimhan looks at him again, Porchay knows there's no chance.
And yet, he still says, "let me go!"
"No," Kimhan shakes his head. "The moment I'll let go, you'll crumble down right in front of me. Do you even realise how much you are shaking, little flower?"
"I'm shaking because of you," Porchay spits those words in Kimhan's direction. "You make me sick. I despise this kingdom... I despise you." It feels so good to say it out loud. Almost too good.
"Wasn't expecting anything else for now," Kimhan nods, his expression stoic, eyes gliding all over Porchay's body and face. "But it will change with time, Porchay. I can promise you that. Now," Kimhan turns them towards the carriage he came in, "let me help you in."
"I can go by myself," Porchay tries to protest, but even he feels his knees shaking. He is afraid that if he makes even one step alone, Kimhan will be right, he will crumble down right there in front of Kimhan and all the guards.
"Let me help you, Porchay!" Kimhan's voice is cold and demanding, and Porchay just doesn't have the strength to fight now so he lets Kimhan help him into the carriage and he hopes that by the time they'll get back to the palace he'll have enough energy to stand up against his husband again.
When the door at the carriage closes after them, Porchay finally realises how close Kimhan is and that this is the first time they are alone together in such a small space. Porchay can't breathe. He wants to sit as far away from Kimhan as possible, but Kimhan won't let him. His arm is strong around Porchay. They are sitting side by side, their bodies touching way more than Porchay would ever want to.
Kimhan raises his other hand and combs his fingers through Porchay's hair, making Porchay twitch in surprise, "you can rest, little flower. We have a long way home."
Porchay is angry. For the first time in his life, he is afraid he can't control that anger. He is going to burst, and this time, his power won't be pretty. He looks up at Kimhan and in his head, he is imagining how the sharpest, the most poisonous thorns of roses are digging deep into Kimhan's flesh and his hands are bleeding, bleeding so much that he has to let Porchay go. But when Porchay looks down at Kimhan's hands, there is no blood and no thorns... his power, his power doesn't work.
