A sliver of smut in the second half of the chapter

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San didn't know the details of Hongjoong's relationship with Seonghwa, but he would get to their bottom soon. Before he hadn't considered this predicament from every corner, he wouldn't make assumptions. However, he watched Seonghwa from narrowed eyes all morning as they sat in class together. Whenever Seonghwa's lashes fluttered under his thick brows to look at his paper, San scrutinised him with eyes akin to golden daggers. If Seonghwa noticed them boring into his skin, he veiled his awareness tastefully.

San had finished his speech in the long hours of the night after he had said goodbye to Wooyoung but couldn't find any sleep. While Seonghwa looked over it, San was supposed to pick a calligraphy style he wanted to write it in. Despite their full schedule, San tried to find something about Seonghwa's noble aura that was off. The man held himself to high standards and was unapproachable. Nothing hinted at that being any different for the king.

When Seonghwa's eyes flicked up to look at San, San hurriedly lowered his head. Invested, he stared at his work without seeing it while his senses strained to pick up on Seonghwa's movements.

The shaman's feet shuffled, then he rose from his chair. The norigae swung on his waist as he came over with his bamboo stick patting his own shoulder.

"Have you decided yet?"

San glanced at the slender hands picking up a sheet of practice San had put aside. His stomach lurched at the reminder those fingers had ingrained into his body. Did they do the same to Hongjoong? Was that how Seonghwa was so at ease with the topic?

"I'm thinking of this one." San lifted his hands to show what he was working on. The calligraphy he liked was wild and flowed like nature without too much care for proper linings and endings. There was little of the art Seonghwa hailed so much behind it, no elegance or grace. In turn, San found it far more appealing because of its unexpected style and uniqueness. None of his attempts looked like the other.

"It wouldn't show off your skill very well," Seonghwa said. When he sat down next to San, his brightly clad body carried the scent of persimmons again. San breathed it in subtly, wanting to bury his face in the man's shoulder, but none of that would happen while San was wary and heartbroken.

"I can take the risk of dragons after me thinking I never learned calligraphy. We all learn the same content, so they won't care much."

The dragon before San wrote with similar artistic freedom. His letters flowed into each other, never-ending in a coil of lines that reminisced about a dragon's body. Though he used the proper endings since each of his sentences had only two.

Seonghwa dipped his brush into San's ink. His fingers came to hold back his sleeve as he gently pressed the tip to the paper. Elegantly, he redrew what San had drawn as accurately as possible. As he set the brush down on its stand so it wouldn't dirty the table, he regarded the work with a hum.

"Since it's your wish, we can make it work. Let's write your speech in this lettering next time."

With a nod, San rolled up his documents and tied them together. Wordlessly, they washed out their utensils. If Seonghwa minded the unusual lack of conversation, he didn't point it out.

He was good at wearing that shiny mask of his. San's suspicions that what Wooyoung and he had found was true increased.

Once they were done with their cleaning and Seonghwa had brought the documents they had used for copying to the archive, they found back into the classroom. While Seonghwa closed the windows, San shouldered his bag.

A rush of air that flared Seonghwa's clothes snuck in before the windows slammed shut. It seemed as if the rain season of summer was drawing closer. San could smell its humidity and saw the speed at which the clouds drew closer to cry upon the lands. Usually, this meant it was mating season for dragons. San was glad that he spent his first year as an adult away from the nest. Their females could be suffocating in their desire for any adult mate.

Seonghwa seemed to think the same as he turned to join San on their way out.

"Will your natural cycle concern your human body?" He asked as they left the building together. With his antlers, San was taller than Seonghwa, but otherwise, he had to look up at him. As he studied the man's pearl-decorated side profile, San's heart weakened at the sight of his plush lips. It was for the best San hadn't given in to his urge to kiss them. His heartbreak would be much worse if Seonghwa had let him any closer.

"As far as I know, it shouldn't. Usually, our females are more concerned with it, too."

Seonghwa hummed. He had crossed his hands behind his back as they transgressed the courtyard. San peered at the stables, trying to spot Wooyoung there. The chilly air between the two males was nothing like the peculiar smiles San had spotted on Seonghwa and Hongjoong during the same activity before.

Seonghwa wanted to inquire more, but he caught himself before he said anything. Careful, San tested the waters.

"Though I may feel a tad bit itchier. If I were to ask the king for his aid in these regards, would he heed my request like I would the other way around?"

With a nod, Seonghwa squinted at the clouds on the horizon. The deafening hum of the cicadas foreshadowed the showers that would cast upon them tonight. San would blossom in his element and his powers would reach their peak before the day of the ritual, when they unleashed all at once. Already, he felt them tingle under his skin as if he had trapped lightning in his body.

"He has a right to refuse, but since he is dedicated to his marital duties as much as you are, he presumably will receive you without complaint."

As much as he strained, San heard no discomfort in Seonghwa's voice. If Hongjoong were his lover, San expected jealousy. Perhaps they had overcome it knowing since long ago that San would become part of the court.

With narrow eyes, San observed Seonghwa's light-hearted smile as he directed them to the palace.

"Ask him and I will fetch the wooden sticks I promised you, since they will come in handy."

They parted at the entrance and Seonghwa meandered over to the building his chambers were located in with no hurry. He watched the birds pass in a swarm on his way there and the sun shone on his twinkling accessories as if its last rays before being overwhelmed by the clouds had to be devoted only to him.

With no more time to waste, San whirled around to the throne room. He found Hongjoong lazing on his throne as he usually would and fanning away the heat that glistened wetly on his forehead. He had pushed up the sleeves of his hanbok and loosened it around his neck to defy the humidity that was like a breeze on San's skin.

When San entered, Hongjoong perked up. His fan snapped shut, and he smiled, but San neared him before he could say a word.

"My king," San whispered as he climbed the stairs to the throne. The guards overseeing the room didn't mind them, but Hongjoong's eyes blew wide at the sudden proximity.

Hongjoong's hand came to cradle San's jaw to make him look at him. The imoogi's lidded gaze and parted lips added to the flush of power under his skin that had him glow.

"Oh, my jewel. Is it time for your mating season? Are you uncomfortable?"

San nuzzled into his hand, unable to lie even when he tried to garner a reaction that would give away the truth about Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

"Guards, make sure nobody will come inside here!" Hongjoong called over San's head as he stood. He led the dragon down from the platform, all while San nuzzled close to him. Under his blissfully closed eyes, the sharp attention of a predator bore into Hongjoong's scent to filter out his motives.

"Come here, San. I will make it better."

No lie yet. San reconsidered with a gulp, but he didn't back out.

On their way to Hongjoong's chambers, Hongjoong helped San loosen the strings of his clothes to cool his heated body. As if feverish, San clung to him and they had to take breaks ever so regularly so Hongjoong could prop San's body up again.

They made it to Hongjoong's bed with a trail of clothes shed behind them. By the time Hongjoong pressed San into the mattress, San had undone the laces to Hongjoong's clothes. The king gave a surprised noise when San flipped them the moment both of them had crawled on the bed. Without a second of hesitation, San flung Hongjoong's clothes off his lean body and dropped them to the ground. He nuzzled again, hot lips gliding over Hongjoong's gulping neck. The king faintly held on to his antlers as if needing them to guide San, but his arousal gave away his interest in the sudden aggression from his spouse.

"San, you haven't prepared yet," Hongjoong whispered when San ground against him. He tipped his head back with a moan, claws sprawling to dig harmlessly into Hongjoong's chest. His body perked at the idea of pleasure as Seonghwa had promised it to him.

Hongjoong was about to reach for San's cheeks to spread him apart and feel for his entrance when the door opened unexpectedly. Hongjoong's head whipped around while a smirk of satisfaction spread across San's face.

So Seonghwa didn't announce himself to Hongjoong's bed chambers.

For a moment, tense silence met them. Then, Seonghwa set the silken pouch he had brought down next to the door.

"I see you two were faster than I. Excuse the interruption." With a polite bow, he retreated and shut the door behind him.

From lidded eyes, San watched Hongjoong. The king's neck remained craned, worry etched into his features. Still, his hands grasped tighter onto San's hips when they rolled over him sensually.

"Please," San uttered, claws reaching for Hongjoong's hands. "Use your fingers."

Hongjoong hesitated, but his focus returned to San. In concentration, his fingertips skimmed San's hole, testing the give.

When he nodded, San stood to retrieve the bag. His senses were on highest alert to pick up on Seonghwa's elegant steps nearby. He was still in the building. Pacing.

San settled on Hongjoong's waist once more. Defenceless, the king lay under him, thrown by the onslaught of events.

San forewent the polished wooden sticks in various thicknesses that he could use to stretch himself out for the king. His fingers pressed the jar of oil from the bag into Hongjoong's hands, impatient. He leaned over him again, lips searching those of the king.

Hongjoong dodged him. His slick fingers dipped into San, but they barely moved, barely made an effort.

San's claw found Hongjoong's cheek. Golden eyes flashed when they looked upon those of the king. Startled like a rabbit, Hongjoong stilled, his body stiffening. The clarity in San's gaze alerted him that the dragon was angry.

"Kiss me, human," San growled. He didn't reach out again, waiting for Hongjoong to do it himself. It was no more his secret romantic wish dreamt of during the night. This was a test.

Hongjoong gulped, fingers slipping from San to rest on his behind instead. Their bodies were tense, the threat spreading a bitter scent in the air and evaporating any lust between them.

Hongjoong neared him. His eyes closed, but when San warningly pressed his claws into Hongjoong's chin, they reopened. Wide and unwilling, they fixed on San's lips.

San pulled back.

Hongjoong's head dropped to the side, lips white with how tightly he clenched them. Icy silence spread throughout the room as San sat on top of him. Clammy, their bodies spent no comfort where they touched.

"I'm sorry, San. I can't do it tonight," Hongjoong whispered. When San stood to pick up his robe, the king sat up, alarmed. Before he could speak, San slipped into his pants and tied his outer coat over his chest without properly layering and folding his clothes. Parts of his chest flashed through the fabric when he twirled around to the man.

"Stop lying to me," he snarled, elongated fangs on display. When Hongjoong curled into himself, the boiling rage inside San made space for cold ignorance. He didn't allow his heart to be broken further.

"The one you seek to mend your relationship with right now isn't me, so stop pretending it is. Run into his arms and leave me alone."

San turned on his heel to leave the room. Hongjoong remained shaken by the sudden revelations.

The corridor was empty, but San smelled Seonghwa's apprehension behind the second door to the left. He halted in front of it, voice no more but a growl in the nightly palace.

"I did nothing to him. Have your will."

He strode off and before he had left through the main door, he already heard how Seonghwa emerged from the room to console Hongjoong.