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Summary
“All Solian men are scum. Your paltry letters begging for an alliance won’t erase our long-standing history of feuds.” Each of Kei’s golden eyes housed a bottomless, ice-barbed ravine, itching for a body to impale. Preferably this impertinent man. Hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides, they trembled slightly, trying to contain the slow pressurization of the white-hot anger that was corroding away the thin cord of restraint Kei had left.
“Why? Still bitter about having your dear brother, Akiteru, killed in the Nocte-Sol war?” Kuroo pushed himself off the lounger with a sturdy arm — his movements purposeful, predatory. Walking to stand face to face with the younger prince, Kuroo's words were calm and slow, but they rang with the snarling of a beast. “Grow up. It’s been four years.”
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OR AU where Tsukki can finally be a literal royal ass and Kuroo can have anyone's ass because they're both insufferable princes.