Archive of Our Own

The rolling storm clouds blanketing the sky above the Yoon household perfectly reflected the irritated mood of its master.  

Yoon Seungho’s expression was set in a stony glare as he carelessly read over an edict in his room, his mind elsewhere. He took a drag of earthy, expensive tobacco through a brass pipe, feeling the rich warmth flood his lungs, before watching apathetically as lazy wisps of smoke swirled around him with an exhale. He scowled slightly, not even the intoxicating drags from his pipe could quell his displeasure.

 His peeved mood was thanks to a conversation he’d held earlier with one of his acquaintances while they were out hunting. The fellow had bothered him about why he had bought his private painter tailored winter clothes, and prodded about the rumors that Seungho and the painter had had a fling, right there in the store. He had only dropped it when Seungho had threatened that the man may end up cast aside like Jihwa if he continued to harass him. 

Seungho’s eyebrows furrowed as his temper flared. An intimidating glare was usually enough to stop the servants of his house and the townspeople from pressing on about the relationship between himself and his painter, but his noble friends were a different story. More and more often he’d been subjected to their questioning about the young man, to the point where he’d started to avoid them, preferring to spend his time amusing himself with the company of the painter. 

The rumor about the escapade was true, as was the rumor about the winter clothing. While it was easy to credit the first as Seungho simply being Seungho, the second weighed more heavily on his mind. Seungho assured himself that his purchase was just because the painter would need clothing for the upcoming months, but he knew he had no excuse for having it tailored for him and made out of expensive material. If he was being honest with himself, even Seungho wasn’t quite sure why he’d decided to spoil him with such nice clothes, but the incessant questioning from his friends certainly didn’t make it any easier to figure out. Their meddling into his and his painter’s private affairs drove him mad.

Annoyed that the gossip of others was bothering him so greatly, Seungho decided to occupy his thoughts with the painter himself instead. Taking another slow drag from his pipe, he let his mind wander back to his affair with Na-kyum in the tailors’ shop, the one that had sparked rumors amongst the townspeople and nobility alike. He smirked slightly, remembering the cute expression Na-kyum wore on his face when Seungho pushed him against the wall of the shop, his golden eyes wide and his cherry lips parted in shock. He wondered how it was that Na-kyum could change his mood so quickly, as just seconds later, the painter’s face was flushed and those golden eyes were drunk with arousal as he moaned against Seungho’s fingers shoved lewdly between his lips. Seungho’s mind started to grow hazy as he recalled the way he’d made Na-kyum follow him around the market for the rest of the day, his cheeks red with embarrassment at what a dirty thing he’d just allowed, refusing to meet Seungho’s eyes until they’d returned home. Blooming red bruises had dotted Na-kyum’s neck and shoulders for days, barely concealed by Seungho’s jacket that was much too big for the young painter. 

Na-kyum, Na-kyum, Na-kyum.

It seemed recently that he was all Seungho could think about. That pretty face with soft, delicate features, too often covered in tears, was on Seungho’s mind much more than he’d like to admit. The truth was that he had grown rather fond of the artist, the timid face he wore during their nightly painting sessions to try to hide his arousal made Seungho want to tear into him. Not one of his noble friends, not even Jihwa, could excite him half as much as the tiny low born painter. 

However, it wasn’t just his sensuality that made Seungho so drawn to Na-kyum. The shy smile he held while talking to the other servants of the house never failed to make Seungho smirk, and when his eyes welled up with tears, Seungho secretly found himself overwhelmed with the desire to take the painter in his arms and calm him. He felt a twinge of disgust and embarrassment at the second thought, Seungho knew all too well that no noble such as himself should ever care about the useless feelings of someone so low born. 

Seungho was drawn out of his thoughts as his eyes flicked to something appearing in his peripheral. He scowled, realizing that it was the scholar Jung In-hun out for a walk. His feelings towards the teacher had begun to shift recently, too. Lately, he found the way In-hun talked pretentiously about nothing got on his nerves more than usual, his inflated ego shining through in every conversation he had. Seungho wasn’t oblivious to Na-kyum’s crush on the scholar, it was painfully clear. The wide smile illuminating the painter’s face and nervous way he fidgeted with his hands around In-hun was enough to make Seungho want to snap In-hun’s neck, not to mention how blind Na-kyum was to the disgust on his teacher’s face while Na-kyum followed him around like a duckling. 

“Stupid boy,” Seungho mumbled to himself bitterly as he ached with jealousy. The way Na-kyum looked at In-hun with such admiration and glee while eying Seungho with a disgusted sort of sadness fed his envious temper like nothing else. 

He let out a slight sigh of relief when In-hun finally left his line of sight. At least this time he’d been spared from watching Na-kyum chase the unbearable scholar down like a whiny child after its mother. He drew the tip of his pipe to his lips while his thoughts returned to the painter. As he watched the rain starting to fall from the sullen sky, he scowled slightly as he realized he hadn’t seen Na-kyum since the night before, limping off to the confines of his own room. Come to think of it, it was rather unusual that he hadn’t even seen Na-kyum out for some fresh air. Seungho took another lazy puff from his pipe, wondering what Na-kyum must have been up to.

He looked up to a wooden creak, recognizing the face of one of one of his servants who had come to bring him his evening meal. Seungho eyed her silently while she set the food down in front of him, her head bowed in respect and fear. Though the food looked expertly prepared as always, he had more pressing matters on his mind. 

“I expect he has already eaten?” Seungho drawled. The servant flinched at his sudden comment, though she was already aware of who he was talking about. It was no secret to the rest of the house that the little lowborn painter living amongst them was Seungho’s latest fascination, the lord made no attempts to hide his favoritism. He’d gone so far to even demand that Na-kyum was served specially prepared meals instead of eating with the rest of the staff, a treat reserved for himself and other noble guests only. 

“He claimed he was not hungry,” She answered sheepishly, her gaze locked firmly on the floor, “In fact, he hasn’t eaten all day.”

“Oh?” Seungho exclaimed with a hint of agitation, “Such well prepared food, and he denies it? Perhaps he has become so accustomed to being treated with kindness that he has forgotten his low born heritage.” 

The servant inhaled slightly, the last thing she wanted to do was get Na-kyum in trouble. She had seen what had happened to Jihwa, and he was a noble. If Seungho decided that she defamed him on purpose, chances were high she would fall victim to her lord’s blade, as did so many others who made the mistake of crossing him. 

“No, sir,” She stuttered, “He was not being rude- he has simply been working all day, painting nonstop!” 

Seungho raised an eyebrow at the servant, who was still bowed, shaking with anxiety. He stood up, walking up to her and peering over her, “Painting, you say? All day?”

“Yes, sir!” She stammered, “He has shut himself in his quarters, refusing meals and barely speaking to the servants when they enter.”

Seungho looked over her across the courtyard where Na-kyum’s quaint studio was located. Sure enough, a dim light was visible from the outside. Without another word, he tipped his pipe into an ashtray, stepping easily past the servant, (who breathed a sigh of pure relief,) and out of his room. Na-kyum shut up in his studio and painting like a mad man? This, he had to see. 

Rain trickled down his hair onto his handsome face, but he paid it no mind as he strolled to the door of Na-kyum’s room. If anything, he was excited to spend some much needed time amusing himself with the young man after the bothersome day he’d had. There was no bigger stress reliever for Seungho than using Na-kyum until he saw stars. He could already feel himself begin to grow excited as he gently cracked the door to Na-kyum’s room. 

Sure enough, the painter sat in the middle of his quarters, his partially finished paintings strewn feverishly around him as he hunched over a new piece, so engrossed in the strokes of his brush that he neglected to acknowledge the noble’s presence behind him. His shoulders shook slightly and he sniffled every moment or so, even from behind him Seungho could tell that he was crying, though this wasn’t unusual. What was so unusual about it was that Seungho couldn’t remember anything he’d done to cause such tears, the noble hadn’t seen him all day. He rolled his eyes slightly, there went his plans of a relaxing night. 

Seungho closed the door with an obvious creak, and only then did the painter turn to face his lord, his red, swollen eyes brimming with tears that bunched under his lashes and stained his rosy cheeks, his soft lips contorted into an expression of pain instead of their usual pout. Seungho knew at that moment something was wrong, that this was not one of Na-kyum’s usual tantrums over something trivial. He stared aghast at the painter, who regarded him with a miserable expression, silent except for his gentle sobs. 

“...What are you doing?” Seungho asked. Na-kyum wiped his teary cheek on his sleeve and turned away, continuing to cry quietly. 

Seungho’s eyes widened at the insolent action. He kneeled by the painter’s side and snatched his delicate wrist, pulling it roughly up to his shoulder and staring intently into the painter’s eyes.

“They told me you’ve been skipping meals and throwing yourself into painting, so I thought I’d see for myself..” Seungho said, glaring Na-kyum down. Normally, the intimidation was enough to get Na-kyum to quiet himself out of fear of being given a reason to cry harder, but the tears still continued to flow freely down his face as he made no attempts to inhibit them. Seungho clenched his jaw in frustration at the painter’s sobs, simply the sound of Na-kyum crying was enough to make him see red. Seungho felt no sorrow for the men he threw out of his bedchamber when they no longer brought him amusement, no sympathy for the servants that trembled and bowed their head to him in fear, but for some reason, to see tears clouding the eyes of a worthless low born painter shot pangs of guilt throughout his body. It enraged him. 

“Why are you crying?” Seungho pressed, digging his thumb into the inside of Na-kyum’s wrist. 

Na-kyum stuttered slightly as he whispered out his response, “...I just…”

He turned away from the noble again, lowering his gaze in shame, “It’s nothing, my lord…Please, leave me alone…” 

Seungho stayed frozen, pushing harder against Na-kyum’s wrist and glaring into him. Na-kyum’s refusal to cooperate angered him further, he disliked the indignant manner in which his subordinate was speaking to him, but even more so, he hated the feeling of guilt that Na-kyum’s whimpers and cries caused him, especially because he had done nothing to warrant such tears.

“That hurts…” Na-kyum said softly through sobs, as Seungho continued to squeeze his delicate wrist, feeling the pressure clamp down against his bone and veins, “Please, let go…”

Seungho silently refused, adamant that he would not take orders from a lowborn and have his questions so blatantly ignored. His thumb dug into the space between Na-kyum’s wrist bone and palm, he felt only more pity for the painter as Na-kyum clenched his jaw in anguish, but the realization that he was wasting compassion on a worthless peasant enraged him. 

“Please…” Na-kyum begged, his voice barely above a whisper, his tears dripping down his jaw and onto his clothes, his arm trembling under the rigid pressure. Seungho grit his teeth and glowered at the pitiful show the painter was putting on for him, his patience starting to falter as he waited for Na-kyum to stop being insolent. 

Suddenly, Na-kyum forcefully whipped around to face his lord, tears still streaming down his face as he yelled angrily, “Please let me be!” 

Seungho sat silently, frozen in shock at Na-kyum’s boldness as he continued to furiously berate his lord, “What’s the matter now?! I’m painting just as you ordered me to…! How much more have I to paint?! I don’t-” 

Na-kyum was quieted by Seungho slapping him hard across the face, his neck twisting at the sheer force of the hit. He stumbled to keep his balance as his arms jutted out to catch him, landing on one of his new paintings as his face contorted in pain. 

“How dare you raise your voice to me?” Seungho glared with a wide-eyed stare, dangerously quiet, still dumbstruck at the sudden change in Na-kyum’s mood, not to mention the utter nerve of the ill-bred lowborn to speak to his lord in such a way. 

Na-kyum could hardly feel his burning cheek as he stared at his painting, the despair of seeing it in all its glory was more painful than any injury Seungho could inflict upon him. Trembling with anguish, he crumbled the corner of it in his hand and bit his lip as he felt more tears begin to crowd behind his eyes. 

“My lord…” Na-kyum whispered, his head dropping in shame, unable to look at Seungho, “I...I am no longer sick...No longer drunk or dazed…” 

Seungho stared at him in outraged disbelief as Na-kyum meekly grabbed his arm, sniffling and whimpering, his head bowed in submission.

“Please, my lord. Hold me…” 

Seungho took a moment to process the painter’s words, he was astounded. Na-kyum’s pleas left him aching and he almost felt his arms reach for him, but Seungho’s anger still overwhelmed him. 

“What a strange, unknowable creature,” He said quietly, eyeing the desperate man, both irritated and amused. “First crying, then getting angry, and now, after I’ve slapped you, you want me to hold you?” 

Na-kyum produced no response, his shoulders shaking heavily as his fingers curled around Seungho’s sleeve, still looking down. 

Seungho rolled his eyes, annoyed with Na-kyum’s silence, “Do you not understand the words you are saying to me, or-”

Seungho’s words were cut off by the painter pressing against him in a gentle, timid kiss. The noble watched in shock as Na-kyum closed his eyes and kissed him, his lips soft and salty with tears, barely touching Seungho’s, as if he were kissing someone for the very first time. 

As Seungho struggled to guess what could cause his shy, wary Na-kyum to act so erratically, his eyes landed on the painting over which Na-kyum had just fallen, the one that had prompted the artist to beg to be held, slightly crinkled from his small hand. In a second of realizing what Na-kyum had drawn, he knew the reason for all of his tears. The picture was his beloved learned sir, Jung In-hun, earning a top government position after his civil service exams. 

Seungho felt rage boil beneath his skin, coursing through his veins and pooling in his stomach like a virus. In-hun only ever brought Na-kyum pain and upset, and yet the stupid lowborn still worshipped him like he was some sort of diety. Obviously, something In-hun had said had gotten under the painter’s skin and caused his meltdown, but Seungho had no doubt that the fellow would go running back to him the next morning. He hated the fact that Na-kyum adored In-hun, the man that constantly berated him and treated him like a foolish child. Seungho had been the one to provide Na-kyum with a home, tailored clothes and plenty of food, yet all he received in return were tears and a terrified look of disgust.

Seungho roughly grabbed Na-kyum’s hair as he yanked his head backwards, staring into him intently like a predator does to its prey. 

“Hold you, you say?” He growled, “Suckling at my lips like that does little to stir me.”

Na-kyum swallowed down tears as he climbed into his lord’s lap, gently wrapping his arms around Seungho’s neck and kissing him again, tilting his head slightly and allowing himself to melt into Seungho, who wrapped a strong arm firmly around the painter’s waist. Seungho pushed his tongue against his painter’s soft lips, who passively allowed his lord to roam his mouth, moaning softly into the kiss.

While Seungho usually loved when Na-kyum kissed him first, this felt different in the worst way. The way Na-kyum lay limply in his arms, his lips slack and uninterested, putting in no effort beyond allowing Seungho to do what he pleased was highly insulting to the lord. It was shallow, desperate, pathetic, and it made his blood boil. Seungho had kissed enough men to know that this kiss faintly concealed ulterior motives. 

As Seungho drew away from the kiss, his hand holding Na-kyum’s jaw possessively, he noticed that the painter was still crying, though he had been the one to initiate the affection. A pit filled his stomach as he came to a theory as to why Na-kyum was acting so eager. 

Seungho tilted the painter’s soft face to look deeply into his eyes as he whispered, “If, by any chance, you are doing this to ask permission to accompany Jung In-hun to the civil service exams...I suggest you stop dreaming.” 

Surprisingly, Na-kyum didn’t react, only pulling Seungho in for another kiss. Seungho was shocked, as he had expected Na-kyum to try to argue or fall into another tantrum. He felt as if he was being deceived, that perhaps this was some ploy In-hun had concocted. But at the same time, he desperately wanted to know what the scholar had done to betray Na-kyum’s favor and hurt him so deeply that Na-kyum would not want to accompany him. He scowled as he tried to ignore the foolish part of himself that hoped this would be the final straw, that Na-kyum would finally see his precious learned Sir as the scum he was. As Na-kyum’s lips neared his, Seungho grabbed his waist and pushed him against the ground, pinning the lowborn there. 

“Did Jung In-hun put you up to this?” Seungho asked fiercely from above the painter, “What did that rascal tell you?” 

Unable to turn away, Seungho’s questioning pulled back the memories of what Jung In-hun had said to him only hours prior. Under the strict glare of his lord, Na-kyum felt all of the years of stress from desperately trying to win his teacher’s favor, all for it to be completely worthless, erupting to the surface. Despite everything he’d put himself through to give his learned sir what he had always wanted, In-hun still hated him for his fatal attraction, and Na-kyum knew in his heart that nothing he could do would change that. He could no longer contain the tears that crowded his eyes and cascaded down his face as he bawled like a baby, unable to quiet himself. 

Seungho stared down at him, aghast, unsure how to react. Never before had he seen Na-kyum act so vulnerable, sobbing and gasping, barely able to breathe beneath the choking tears. He released Na-kyum’s arms gently, as if he were afraid the painter would shatter beneath him. After a moment of intense crying, Na-kyum was able to control himself enough to utter an answer.

“He did not...tell me anything,” He whimpered softly between sobs, “I said that I would paint for you...It was my decision...I said I would do as you told me to…”

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling.

“All of it...It’s because..It’s because I...I wanted to...that’s the reason…It wasn’t for my teacher.” 

He brought his hands up to his eyes and covered them, ashamed of himself.

“That night I spent with you too, my lord...that too…”

Even quieter, he whispered, “My lord...you make me so nervous, my heart starts pounding…Everything my teacher said about me...is the truth..”

Na-kyum sat up weakly, still covered in tears, and pulled himself to his lord, wrapping his slender arms around Seungho’s bicep and clinging to him like a hurt puppy.

“You used to touch me whenever you liked, even when I said no…” Na-kyum sniffled through the muffle of Seungho’s sleeve, his tears staining the fabric darker as he choked out his words through staggered breaths, “Can’t you just hold me now…?” 

Seungho looked down at the pathetic sight, conflicted. On one hand, he seethed with anger at Na-kyum’s ability to be fooled by that bastard In-hun time and time again, he loathed Na-kyum’s blind trust of the man. On the other, however, he felt his pity for the small painter begin to win him over, as Na-kyum looked up at him with wet, glassy eyes, begging to be held. Seungho paid no mind to his own reputation, but even he could sympathize with Na-kyum, shunned by his beloved learned sir for the rumors that Seungho had involved him in. He grit his teeth as again he caught himself feeling far too much compassion for the lowborn. He rolled his eyes as he ran a gentle hand across the top of Na-kyum’s head, stroking his fingers through the soft locks of hair as the painter flinched at the sudden touch. 

“You want me to hold you, do you?” Seungho asked, and Na-kyum responded with a shy nod, his face buried in the fabric of Seungho’s sleeve, still clinging to his lord for dear life. 

Seungho hesitated for a second, wondering if it was worth it to sacrifice his pride to calm his hysterical artist. While he was still angry with Na-kyum’s obliviousness, he would be lying if he claimed his arms didn’t yearn to hold the painter and have Na-kyum dependent upon him.

“Very well,” Seungho sighed, after a moment more of watching Na-kyum cry, “Come here.”

Without a second thought, Na-kyum pulled away from his lord’s arm, instead placing himself against Seungho’s body, his head resting gratefully on the noble’s chest. Seungho pulled the lithe figure into his lap, a little unsure of where to put his hands as he wasn’t usually a big cuddler, and the last thing he needed was to freak Na-kyum out more. He settled on wrapping a strong arm safely around his waist and tucking Na-kyum’s head against his shoulder. Na-kyum nuzzled his head to Seungho’s neck, continuing to sniffle as he melted into his lord. 

“Do not get too comfortable,” Seungho warned, though any trace of authority had long left his voice, “I will only hold you until you have calmed yourself. I still expect you to finish these paintings that you have carelessly strewn about your floor.” 

Na-kyum nodded without complaint, cuddling tighter to his lord and burrowing his face against the noble to cry into his shoulder. One of Seungho’s hands held him tightly by his waist, the other cupping the base of his head, rubbing it gently and massaging him, stopping every so often to stroke his fluffy black hair in a soothing way.

Na-kyum had never experienced such a devastating heartbreak in all his life. He choked on thick sobs as he replayed In-hun’s words over and over in his head. You were born to be a prostitute.

He shut his eyes, the tears rolling down his cheeks and staining the fabric of his lord’s lapell as he cried miserably. He pressed his head against Seungho’s neck, trying to drown his sorrow in the secure arms of his lord. Na-kyum rocked gently against his chest, letting himself become hypnotized by the warmth surrounding him, Seungho’s heartbeat echoing in his head, drowning out the disappointed voice of his teacher. Seungho’s presence against Na-kyum was calming, even comforting to the young painter, who slowly began to reduce his sobs to nothing but a quiet murmur. 

Na-kyum lifted his tearful eyes for a moment, only to come face to face with Seungho’s intense gaze as the lord watched Na-kyum curiously. He quickly lowered his head again, his face reddening in embarrassment, but to his surprise, Seungho only chuckled softly and continued to pet him.

The noble decided that even though Na-kyum’s crying fit was pitiful, he had to admit that his heart softened upon seeing the painter curled up in his arms. He decided to experiment, taking his arm that was locked around his slim waist and rubbing soothingly up and down the artist’s back, watching carefully to see how Na-kyum would react. He felt a strange sense of pride as Na-kyum nuzzled up to his neck, clinging desperately to Seungho. It was a warm, comforting feeling, a feeling that none of his other lovers had ever given him. Seungho hadn’t expected to enjoy cuddling the painter at all, and definitely not as much as he found himself doing. 

Seungho’s hold over him was like a drug, the gentle traces of his fingers against Na-kyum’s back relaxed Na-kyum to no end as he felt his senses flood with his lord’s affection. His warmth engulfed Na-kyum, numbing his heartbreak and slowing his breath to match that of the noble’s. The soft drum of the rain outside the house continued as twilight arose over the horizon, leaving the courtyard and house dark as the servants of the estate walked quietly about to complete their nightly duties. Na-kyum’s small, inconspicuous study was left untouched and alone, save the two embracing figures, their faces softly illuminated by the glow of a sole lantern. 

Na-kyum was painfully aware of how his situation must have appeared to the other members of the house. Surely by now, the servants had noticed the unusually long while they’d gone without order from Seungho, and that the little painter he seemed so entranced by was nowhere to be seen either. He wondered for a moment what In-hun must have assumed he was doing. Perhaps it was the endorphins seeping into his body after his long cry, or perhaps it was the way his heart fluttered when Seungho shifted him carefully in his lap to hold Na-kyum tighter, but in that moment, the painter couldn’t bring himself to care what the learned sir thought. Instead, he closed his eyes again and breathed in against his lord’s neck. He smiled softly, Yoon Seungho smelled of tobacco and some sort of expensive, floral scent that he couldn’t quite recognize. Jasmine, perhaps? 

As Na-kyum was lulled deeper and deeper into a relaxed trance, he failed to notice that his lord had shifted his focus from comforting the young painter to watching his face with a bored sort of interest. He flinched reflexively as Seungho used a gentle finger to move the painter’s hair behind one ear, opening his eyes to take in the full force of Seungho’s intense stare he held with the painter. Seungho’s eyes were almost hypnotic, most would say they were red and angry, though up close, Na-kyum decided they looked more like warm, liquid amber, like fresh sap from an evergreen tree. 

“Are you feeling better?” Seungho asked, tilting the painter’s chin up to stare deeply into his eyes, a gaze that made Na-kyum’s face heat as he shyly tried to look away, nodding softly. 

Seungho felt his lips turn up in a slight smirk at the artist’s reaction. He tilted his face closer to Na-kyum’s, eyeing him up and down and delighting in the way that the lowborn’s face reddened. He pulled two fingers gently from Na-kyum’s collarbone down to his abdomen, observing the way his breath hitched under the slight touch. Na-kyum’s heart raced in a familiar frantic pattern, something that was starting to happen more and more often, that Na-kyum had previously chalked up to the medicine Seungho was feeding him. However, he knew better now. It was simply Seungho’s alluring presence that made Na-kyum gleefully nervous, his heart racing and his face heating while he felt butterflies fluttering inside him. 

“And yet,” Seungho mused softly, using his fingers to trace the painter’s delicate cheek, “Your face is still hot, and you still sniffle as if you are about to fall into another fit of tears.”

He drew Na-kyum even closer to him as he whispered mere inches from the painter’s soft, pouted lips, “What’s the matter now?” 

Na-kyum’s face flushed as he found himself panting under the motions of his lord, unable to answer. Truly, nothing at that moment was wrong. For the first time since his arrival in the Yoon household, Na-kyum felt relaxed in the presence of his lord, dare he say, even content. 

To Seungho’s surprise, Na-kyum answered softly, “Nothing, sir…”

He tucked his head to Seungho’s chest, looking up at him with timid eyes, absentmindedly twirling his fingers against Seungho’s shoulder, hesitating. Seungho looked down at him with an expectant expression, though his eyes lacked their usual sternness, gently urging the painter to continue.

“...To be truthful,” Na-kyum admitted, shyly dropping his gaze, his shy voice barely audible against the hum of the rain, “I...I am so happy, my lord...my heart is so full…”

Seungho felt his heart jolt within his chest. He was all too familiar with the words, spoken to him once before. He too often thought back to the night he’d spent with the drunk artist, too often did his mind wander to the words of affection Na-kyum had meant for In-hun, but said to him. More and more recently, he found himself wondering what it would have felt like to know the painter’s cries of love and admiration were intended for him after all. It brought him much more grief than he would admit, especially for a man so surrounded by options for male companionship, why he longed to have this tiny lowborn painter be his alone was beyond him. Many nights he found himself unable to sleep, repeating the words Na-kyum had meant for Inhun in his mind, feeling sickly, and worse, an emotion he didn’t face often, rejected. 

But now, under no sort of constraint, the lovely painter had spoken such words to him, meaning them wholly and totally for the lord within whose arms he lay. Seungho’s face heated, he felt strangely full as he echoed the phrase in his head. His previous worries of fussing over a lowborn had been completely erased from his mind, all Seungho wanted to do in that moment was hold Na-kyum and cherish him, to savor the feeling of Na-kyum belonging to him. 

I am so happy, my lord, my heart is so full…

He smirked softly, looking down at the painter that was nervously fidgeting with the fabric of his sleeve. 

Na-kyum looked up at Seungho timidly, worried he had said something to irritate his lord and dismiss the gentle treatment being given to him. He could find no traces of anger in his expression, but instead, a curious sort of amusement. He didn’t flinch as Seungho placed his hand beneath Na-kyum’s jaw, tilting his head into a kiss. 

For the first time he could remember, Seungho’s kiss was sweet and gentle, carrying none of his usual aggressive manner. He tenderly pressed his lips to the painter’s, one hand settling on Na-kyum’s waist as he kissed him, his other moving from his jaw to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. He hummed into the kiss as he slipped his tongue between Na-kyum’s soft lips, savoring his taste and losing himself in Na-kyum’s warmth. 

Na-kyum wrapped his arms around Seungho’s neck as he was drawn closer, his lips parting submissively as he let Seungho roam his mouth, tilting his head to allow the lord to kiss him as hard as he pleased. Though he enjoyed the feverish way that Seungho usually kissed him, this gentle display was a whole different pleasurable experience, it was intimate and sweet and it made his heart flutter. Above all, it made Na-kyum feel something he’d never truly felt in his life: wanted . Under the movements of his partner, all the grief of his last few hours were forgotten. 

Seungho drew away from the kiss for a brief moment, looking over his partner who was slightly out of breath, his face as red as an expensive rose, his lips wet and still parted like he was eagerly awaiting another kiss, a request that Seungho soon fulfilled. He simply couldn’t resist the sweet taste of the painter as he drew Na-kyum in for another kiss, then another. The room became more heated as the kisses grew more passionate, Seungho greatly enjoyed Na-kyum’s enthusiasm as the artist pushed against his lips, encouraging Seungho to kiss him harder with his muffled moans. The way Na-kyum clung to him, desperate and willing to let the noble do with him as he pleased, made him feel as if he were dreaming. His tender lips, his delicate skin, his silky hair, his big, honey gold eyes, it all enchanted Seungho in a way that none of his previous lovers could compete with. Baek Na-kyum really was unlike any other man on the planet.  

As he lay against Seungho in a loving embrace, their mouths still intertwined passionately, Na-kyum began to feel his eyelids grow heavy. The dimly lit room, combined with the warmth of Seungho’s body and the sweet way he was being held lulled him, the divine scent of smoke and flowers seeped into his subconscious, overwhelming his ability to keep his eyes open. His kisses became slower and softer, and he hoped that Seungho would allow him to rest without escalating into their usual nightly activities- not that Na-kyum didn’t enjoy them. He wondered if Seungho would become angry with him if he dared to fall asleep on the chest of a noble lord such as himself. 

Thankfully, however, Seungho seemed to notice the painter growing tired in his arms, and he pulled away from the kiss, allowing Na-kyum to snuggle up beneath his chin, content. He stroked his fingers through the artist’s hair, watching him with an entertained sort of interest as Na-kyum batted his eyelashes in a fight to stay awake. 

“It is alright,” Seungho said softly, answering his silent question, “You may rest.” 

The young painter blushed, embarrassed for letting on so easily that he wanted to stop. 

“That’s alright, my lord, I’m fine!” He stuttered, trying his best to sound alert.

“You are tired, yes?”

Na-kyum hesitated, but nodded shyly.

“Well? Have I not provided you enough comfort to be able to sleep?”

The tint on Na-kyum’s cheeks darkened as he looked up at his lord wide-eyed. “Oh- That isn’t what I meant, sir!” 

Seungho smirked down at the painter curled up in his arms, his face red and embarrassed as he apologized profusely. How can he act so embarrassed, when mere minutes ago he was clinging to me as if he were my wife? He thought, amused.

“Hush,” Seungho assured, his velvety voice making Na-kyum feel woozy, “Do as I tell you. Sleep.”

Na-kyum looked up at him briefly, slightly shocked at his lord’s decision. However, he decided not to test Seungho’s gratitude, giving him a sleepy nod, curling himself up in the larger man’s lap and nuzzling up to his chest, the noble’s steady heartbeat quelling him into a deep, much needed sleep. 

Seungho watched him carefully for a moment, waiting until Na-kyum’s breathing evened out and he lightened against the lord’s body. Once he was sure the painter was soundly asleep, Seungho chuckled softly, his hand roaming throughout Na-kyum’s silky locks of hair, his eyes dancing over his delicate features, illuminated by a warm, golden lantern. 

“You are quite the handful, aren’t you?” Seungho mused quietly, his gaze never leaving the pleasing face of the figure cuddled in his arms, “You fly from fits of rage, to bawling tantrums, to wanting to be fussed over and cherished, all within a mere moment.” 

He smiled gently, satisfied with the placated expression on Na-kyum’s face as he clung to his lord. Seungho felt a strange sense of pride at the sight.

After a few moments of watching the sleeping artist, he, too, realized he was beginning to fall tired. He looked around the studio for a brief moment. Na-kyum’s paintings were still strewn across the floor, the one of his dastardly teacher and former admiration all but forgotten, crinkled and off in the distance. His bed was much too small and cheaply made for an elegant lord such as Seungho, much less for him and Na-kyum to share. He surely could not sleep here in the studio, Seungho decided, and without hesitation, he lifted the painter gently into his arms as he arose. He haltered for just a moment to make sure Na-kyum didn’t stir, slipping through the door of Na-kyum’s room to take him to his own bedchamber. 

The clouds had disappeared from the sky at that point, the high moon illuminating the courtyard as Seungho walked with his painter in his arms. Most of his staff had settled in for the night, leaving the house silent and still. Na-kyum twitched slightly at the cold outside air against his skin, prompting Seungho to shift his grasp over the artist, turning his face against the lord’s chest, watching the artist intently the whole way.  

As the two passed quietly into the inner hallways of the house, Seungho spotted his servant, Kim, relighting a lantern outside the lord’s room. The old servant looked up with slight shock as he noticed the low born painter snuggled up in the noble’s arms, but after receiving a slight glare, he elected not to say anything. Still, Kim thought it was quite strange to see Seungho going to such lengths for the lowborn that he would bring Na-kyum to sleep alongside him, as if he were his mistress. He had noted that Seungho’s attitude towards the painter changing ever so slightly recently, Kim noticed him stare for a moment if he spotted Na-kyum across the courtyard, and smile softly if he caught Na-kyum conversing with the other servants, the lowborn’s face beaming as he laughed. On the reverse, he also recognized the subtle change in Seungho’s strong glare when he oversaw Na-kyum walking alongside his teacher, his gaze growing jealous and possessive. Kim doubted any of the other servants of the estate noticed, such mere shifts in the erratic lord’s mood were only visible to him after many years of work within the Yoon family. He smiled slightly, in a pitisome way. In any case, Kim was glad that Seungho had seemingly not caused the young painter any more grief that night. 

Seungho slipped into his room, his bed illuminated by the moon shining through his open door. Cautiously, as to not disturb him, he positioned Na-kyum on his silken bed, then laying beside him facing the painter. He drew Na-kyum closer to him, intertwining him in a gentle embrace while watching his face in a sort of dreamy curiosity. Na-kyum’s stunning features glowed in the moonlight. Seungho’s eyes danced over his long eyelashes, his pouted pink lips, his delicate nose. He looked so serene, so content, no evidence of his heartbreak still left on his doll-like face. Na-kyum was so pleasing to look at, as if he himself was a beautifully painted portrait. 

The noble’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the cheek that he had struck in outrage beginning to fade to a deepened purple hue. He felt guilt trickle into him as he eyed the angry bruise, rubbing it over gently with his thumb, watching the painter grimace in his sleep at the slight pressure. Seungho was used to being rough with those who disobeyed him, he grew up learning to show dominance and aggression towards the lowerborns to get what he wanted, never once questioning that his nobility allowed him to do so. But now, as the obvious wound stuck out angrily from Na-kyum’s pale cheek, Seungho felt almost ashamed of himself. Seungho lowered his head to Na-kyum’s cheek, kissing the emerging bruise, then the tip of his nose, then sweeping his thick black hair off his forehead to kiss him there too. It would be a long road to healing, but this was certainly a start.  

He tucked Na-kyum’s head under his own as he drew soothing circles along the painter’s back, savoring the safe feeling of Na-kyum’s heartbeat against him. He was quite content with the lithe figure asleep in his strong arms. Seungho wasn’t usually one for cuddling, and he never allowed Jihwa or any of his other partners to lay with him in bed after their nightly escapades, but with Na-kyum, it felt so different. Strange, but not in a bad way. Seungho’s heart fluttered as Na-kyum nuzzled against him in his sleep, whimpering softly. He thought to himself, amused, of all the powerful nobles, scholars and warriors he’d met in his life, this little lowborn painter was going to be the one to change him. His painter. His Na-kyum. 

Seungho’s eyelids started to grow heavy as he leaned his head against his partner’s, wrapping his arms possessively around his waist as he drifted off, only able to think of Na-kyum. Perhaps tomorrow he’d take him to the market to buy him new paints, or maybe a box of those little honey cookies he was always sneaking when he thought Seungho wasn’t watching. He paid no attention to what the servants of the house or In-hun would say, or even what his reputation would become among his fellow nobles when it was revealed he’d been cherishing a lowborn. In that moment, he felt as if he and Na-kyum were the only two people in the world. 

The thought of Na-kyum’s bright grin as he clutched a box of brand new, expensive paints, a honey cookie suspended halfway between his lips as he beamed up at Seungho made the lord smile softly, as he was lulled into a comfortable, satisfied sleep.