Chapter Text
Being a Prince has its perks. But it also came with burdens.
He Junlin would know. After all, wasn't he the Seventh Prince of the Empire? He believe he would know.
The confident footsteps approaching his chambers would terrify anyone, especially when he heard the servants bowing and announcing the Crown Prince's arrival.
Anyone who wasn't He Junlin would be terrified, and rightfully so.
The Third Prince, the Crown Prince, is ruthless in everything. He would kill even his own siblings if he deemed that prince or princess unable to fulfill their duty as a member of the royal family. That is...if they didn't choose the other option.
Being the Crown Prince's pet.
You get to keep your title, and maybe your dignity; in return, the Crown Prince wanted everything that had to do with you to be his. Your body, your mind... everything that defines a person as, well, a person, would be remade to fit the Crown Prince's image.
Everyone knew that the Seventh Prince, in other words, He Junlin, is a smart and caring man.
At least, that's what they told him.
He would do everything to keep his things in order and rule over the small court that belonged to him as the Seventh Prince.
His fatal flaw, despite everything, was perhaps that he cared a little too much. In a court such as the Imperial Court, that was a flaw that no one should have.
Everything is a tool.
Everyone has a value.
Always suspect everything and everyone.
Those are the things a Prince or a Princess learns first, even before they talk.
Killing a sibling isn't uncommon, especially if that person were a hindrance to you and the goal that you had set your eyes on.
Heavy wooden doors glided open without a sound, framing a figure clad in midnight-blue robes embroidered with gold dragons. The air in the room seemed to drop by ten degrees, suffocating and heavy.
"Aren't you supposed to greet your Master?" Song Yaxuan's voice brought his thoughts back to the present.
He Junlin stood up from where he had been sitting on his office desk, clasped his hands in front of him, and bowed, "Apologies, Your Highness, Crown Prince. This one was working and forgot to prepare for Your Highness's arrival."
No reply.
Tentatively, He Junlin glanced upwards to gauge Song Yaxuan's reaction.
He wasn't able to see anything. Those dark eyes that He Junlin had found alluring lately were cold, perhaps even colder than the snows in winter. Those beautiful lips that had explored his body more times than he could count were in thin lines that he had grown accustomed to.
It felt like hours, though merely minutes or seconds had passed. He Junlin kept his eyes lowered to the ground. He had experienced the price of defiance before his body was remade to accept everything Song Yaxuan offered him.
He did not want to relive that kind of experience.
The hem of Song Yaxuan's midnight-blue robes appeared on his line of vision. The Crown Prince's fingers grasped his chin and lifted his head up. The grip wasn't brutal, but it was unyielding, forcing the Seventh Prince to look up and meet those unfathomable, arctic eyes.
"Working," Song Yaxuan murmured, the word tasting like ash on his tongue. "You busy yourself with the trivial petitions of peasants and petty nobles, Junlin, as if those papers hold any real value. As if you hold any real value outside of my grace."
"This one lives only to serve Your Highness," He Junlin replied smoothly, not meeting Song Yaxuan's eyes. Meeting those eyes meant that he believed he could defy the hands that feed him.
Song Yaxuan’s thumb traced the sharp line of He Junlin's jaw, lingering just a moment too long on his lower lip before dropping his hand. The Crown Prince turned away, walking toward the massive, carved-wood bed draped in heavy crimson silks that dominated the far side of the chamber.
"Remind me again, who is your master, Seventh Prince?"
"This one serves His Highness the Crown Prince."
"Prove it," Song Yaxuan commanded, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the absolute weight of an emperor-in-waiting. "Disrobe. And lay on the bed."
He Junlin’s heart hammered a frantic, traitorous rhythm against his ribs, but his hands remained steady as he reached for the collar of his outer robe. The perks of being a prince meant he wore the finest silks; the burden meant those silks were just another chain. Layer by layer, he shed the garments of the Seventh Prince—the scholar, the gentle ruler of a minor court, the man who cared too much.
Naked, He Junlin walked towards the bed before climbing onto it. He laid on his front, presenting his back towards the Crown Prince.
Presenting your back meant that you trust the person behind you. Or...that person is the one who decides whether you live or die.
For a suffocating moment, there was no movement in the cavernous, incense-heavy bedchamber, save for the crackle of the hearth fire casting long, dancing shadows across the crimson silks.
Then, the mattress shifted.
A heavy knee sank into the crimson silk beside him, as a cold finger brushed against the sensitive cleft of his buttocks, sending a sharp, involuntary shiver down He Junlin’s spine. The touch was clinical, devoid of warmth or desire, possessing only the detached curiosity of a master inspecting livestock or a treasured artifact.
Song Yaxuan’s fingers parted his flesh, parting him wide for the room to see—though there was no one else here but the two of them.
The cool air of the bedchamber hit the tender, hypersensitive skin, making He Junlin’s breath hitch in his throat.
Lodged deep within him, hidden from the view of the court and the peasants he supposedly served, was a smooth, obsidian plug. It kept his hole permanently dilated, a constant, throbbing reminder of whose body this truly was. The phallus-shaped object was anchored securely inside, engineered to keep him stretched, compliant, and ready to be taken by the Crown Prince at a moment’s notice.
He Junlin bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting the copper tang of blood, refusing to let out a whimper.
It was not the largest device Song Yaxuan had ever forced him to accommodate—he still bore the phantom ache of toys that had stretched him to his absolute limits weeks prior. Yet, this one was undeniably a size higher than the last, a deliberate escalation designed to test his limits, to soften him further, and to ensure that when Song Yaxuan finally claimed him, the transition would be effortless.
"Look at you," Song Yaxuan whispered, his voice dangerously close, brushing against the shell of He Junlin's ear. The Crown Prince let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Open, waiting, and entirely empty until I decide to fill you. Tell me, brother... does the scholar still think he has a choice?"
"No, Your Highness," He Junlin forced out, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to project calm into the embroidered pillows. "Only... your will."
"Turn around, my precious gem. I want to see your face."
He Junlin did, keeping his legs spread, knees bent on either side of him. He had to keep his hole and his sex in the open for the Crown Prince's eyes. It was a position of total surrender, a display of vulnerability that burned hotter than the incense smoke curling toward the vaulted ceiling.
As he rotated, the object inside him shifted, making his muscles clench instinctively around it. His instinct, the one that somehow still lived inside him, forced him to close his legs, to hide his most vulnerable parts from the icy stare of the man above him.
But he didn't.
Pain would be swift once Song Yaxuan deemed that he was defying the orders of his Master.
Song Yaxuan was kneeling between his thighs, leaning back on his heels.
"My precious jewel, my toy, my perfect whore," A cold finger traced He Junlin's jaw, "You may have walked around this palace, this court looking like the perfect Seventh Prince that you are, but we both know that's not true, isn't it? You're nothing but my toy. A thing that was designed to serve me and me only. Isn't that right?"
"This one obeys His Highness, the Crown Prince."
The Crown Prince leaned forward, a smile on his lips. His hand descended, sliding down the length of He Junlin’s abdomen, his palm pressing firmly over the base of the thing keeping him stretched. He pushed, forcing the object deeper with a sudden, cruel motion, paired with a hand on the white stomach.
A choked whimper died in He Junlin’s throat, stifled by his own trembling. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, not from the physical ache—which was sharp and invasive—but from the crushing weight of the Crown Prince’s hand.
Song Yaxuan didn't pull away. Instead, he kept his palm pressed firmly against the base, anchoring He Junlin to the mattress, pinning him in place like a butterfly mounted on velvet. His thumb traced a slow, mocking circle against the sensitive, flushed skin of He Junlin’s stomach, a gesture that felt more like a brand than a caress.
"Look at you," Song Yaxuan whispered, his voice dangerously soft, laced with satisfaction, "Even now, when I have broken your pride and stripped away your titles, you are beautiful. A ruined, shattered thing, trembling for your master."
He Junlin’s breath came in ragged, jagged hitches. He forced his eyes to meet the Crown Prince’s gaze, though every instinct shrieked at him to look away, to hide the shame that burned in his chest. But to look away was to invite more punishment, and he had learned the hard way that Yaxuan detested anything less than total, conscious submission.
"I am... yours, Highness," He Junlin managed, his voice barely a rasp.
"Remind me again what you are." He commanded.
"I am your toy," He Junlin breathed, the words tasting like ash. "I exist only to serve your pleasure, Crown Prince."
Song Yaxuan’s hand tightened, his grip possessive and absolute. "Good."
He withdrew his hand, only to immediately replace it with his own lips, pressing a searing, mocking kiss against the point where the toy met He Junlin’s heated skin. The sudden intimacy was a shock, far more overwhelming than the pain. He Junlin gasped, his legs bowing further, his fingers digging into the silk sheets until his knuckles turned white.
"Beautiful. Always so beautiful."
The Crown Prince withdrew from the bed, taking off his robes one by one. He Junlin couldn't help but stare.
He had to admit, Song Yaxuan is a handsome man. The way his long hair would fall over that sun-kissed skin, his long fingers taking off his clothes piece by piece, his sculpted muscles on his stomach and-
His veiny cock.
He Junlin licked his lips. He had taken that very thing on both his mouth and his ass.
"Staring already?" Song Yaxuan's voice made him blink before He Junlin turned his face away, flushing. A chuckle escaped the other prince's mouth as fingers wrapped around the toy inside of him and pulled out in one smooth motion.
Instinctively, He Junlin's muscles started to clench and unclench around empty air. Being stuffed with the toy all day long, he felt so empty once it was removed.
Another chuckle escaped the Crown Prince as he grasped his own cock and guided it inside of He Junlin's heat.
He Junlin let out a ragged moan that hitched sharply in his throat, his head tipping back against the embroidered mattress as the heavy weight of the Crown Prince settled fully over him.
Song Yaxuan didn't rush.
He watched.
The way the man beneath him flushed, the tears that started to gather on the edge of his eyes, the way his eyelids closed. The fingers that had moved to grip Song Yaxuan's forearms, leaving nail-shaped crescent marks on his skin. An involuntary motion of seeking balance, of holding onto the only thing that could keep him anchored to reality.
"Open your eyes, He Junlin," He murmured, his voice dropping an octave, rough with growing desire. "Do not dare look away from me now."
Obediently, as if caught in a silken snare, He Junlin’s eyelids fluttered open. The dark, swirling pools of his gaze met the burning intensity of the Crown Prince’s.
Before he could draw another fractured breath or adjust to the sudden heat inside of his own hole, Song Yaxuan captured his lips. The kiss was not gentle; it was a hungry, devouring thing, tasting of sweet wine and heated desperation.
It was a collision of heat and breath, erasing the space between their souls as their tongues tangled in a languid, punishing dance.
And then, the Crown Prince began to move.
The first thrust was measured, a slow, exquisite slide that made He Junlin’s back arch off the embroidered silk.
"Ah-"
The sound shattered against Song Yaxuan’s mouth, dissolving into a ragged, helpless moan as the heavy, exquisite friction flared deep inside him. It was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that made He Junlin’s toes curl against the silk sheets. Every nerve ending in his body sang in agonizing, beautiful discord.
Another thrust.
“Your Highness… ah… mmh…” He Junlin whimpered against the Crown Prince’s lips, his fingers clutching tighter, the crescent moons of his nails biting deeper into the corded muscles of Song Yaxuan’s forearms.
The rhythm quickened, turning into a symphony of shifting silk, heavy breathing, and the wet, decadent friction of flesh against flesh.
Song Yaxuan broke the kiss just enough to trail a line of wet, burning kisses down the arch of He Junlin’s throat, pausing to nip at the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. He pulled back, straightening slightly, his eyes catching the beauty beneath him.
He watched the way He Junlin’s head rolled back against the pillows, the exposed column of his pale throat trembling, the sheen of sweat catching the candlelight like powdered diamonds on sun-warmed skin.
“Haah… oh, God… please…” He Junlin sobbed out, a high, fractured note of ecstasy tearing from his throat as a particularly deep thrust struck the exact core of his undoing. His hips bucked upward in an involuntary, desperate rhythm, chasing a high that felt perilously close to the edge of the world.
He Junlin’s chest heaved, his voice dissolving into a series of breathless, ruined sighs and soft, whimpering vowels that echoed off the room, “Ah—it’s… too much… mm-nngh…”
“Haah… oh… God, yes… ah-ngh!” Song Yaxuan hit the exact same spot harder.
He Junlin’s head thrashed against the bed, his chest heaving violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, stealing the very air from his lungs. A soft, breathy whimper fluttered past his lips, melodic and ruined, dissolving into the quiet hum of the night.
Song Yaxuan’s movement slowed, the frantic, primitive pace shifting into something deliberate and worshipful. He pressed his palms flat against the sheets on either side of He Junlin’s head, pinning him down with the weight of his devotion and his desire. Every shift was languid now, a heavy, hypnotic slide that seemed to burn a brand into He Junlin’s very soul.
"Look at me," Song Yaxuan commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated against the skin of Junlin’s collarbone.
He Junlin’s eyes were glassy, unfocused, his consciousness tethered only to the exquisite intensity blooming in his core. As the Crown Prince’s rhythm deepened, a final, tectonic surge of pressure gathered within him. He Junlin let out a long, keening keen—a sound that teetered between a prayer and a plea. "Ah—Your Highness—ple-ease, I—"
Song Yaxuan’s jaw tightened, his own composure fraying at the edges. With a final, agonizingly slow thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, holding the position as he released inside.
He Junlin jolted, his back bowing sharply off the mattress. A series of high, melodic whimpers spilled from his lips, unraveling into a breathless, broken cry as his own climax cascaded over him. "A-ah! Ah-hn! Yes—oh, God—"
His fingers, which had gripped so fiercely to Song Yaxuan's forearms, slowly loosened, leaving faint, pale crescents on the prince's skin before his hands slipped away to bury themselves helplessly into the crushed silk of the sheets.
For a long moment, the only sound in the bedchamber was the ragged, syncopated rhythm of their breathing, two souls slowly drifting back down to earth from the heavens.
Song Yaxuan remained pressed against him, his chest heaving, listening to the soft, panting sighs that still fluttered past He Junlin’s parted lips. Gently, almost worshipfully, the Crown Prince pressed a lingering kiss to the damp skin of He Junlin’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his exertion, before smoothing the tangled strands of sweat-dampened hair from his forehead.
“You are mine,” Song Yaxuan whispered into the damp skin of his throat, his breath hot and possessive.
He Junlin could only manage a faint, breathless hum in response, his eyelids fluttering shut as he drifted into the darkness.