Crown Prince Rain will be naked as the day he came into this world, bathing and recovering from a fresh injury in one of the natural hot spring pools in his personal ‘spa’ chambers, his royal bathing suite.
Phayu, his closest bodyguard, will be grief stricken about not having been there for his Prince when the attack happened.
Something something treason, childhood friends to lovers etc, you know how these historical korean dramas go ☺️
Have a little snippet-
Maybe he should feel awkward as he stands before Phayu naked as the day he was born into this world, but he doesn’t.
It has been a decade since Phayu last saw him like this.
Things have changed- Rain has changed- since that last time they had snuck away to take a dip in the river one hot summer day. Back when Rain was barely 11 and Phayu almost 14.
Phayu, all sinew and growing muscles- a reflection of his hard training- had already looked more like a man than the boy Rain had still been.
Rain’s not a boy anymore though. He’s a young man now and though Phayu averts his gaze as best as he can, Rain notices him daring to take a glance or two while he helps Rain out of the hot pool and drapes the towel over his lithe form, rubbing him dry with quick motions.
Phayu’s more careful with Rain’s left shoulder, dabbing around the wound gently so as not to cause Rain any further pain.
Until all that’s left is-
Phayu hesitates for a moment, hands coming to a stop just past Rain’s navel, lingering there for a moment as he raises his eyes to meet Rain’s, question unspoken.
im getting pretty tired of seeing people argue that there are, like... simple identity categorizations that work for all nonbinary people. like arguments
like... the way in which a nonbinary ids intersect with orientation ids is not simple.
some nb people will be comfortable with a partner who ids as, for instance, gay. some would be indifferent. some would prefer it. a lot of that seems, to me, to depend on aspects such as how closely that indivudual would id to a binary gender- after all, some people id pretty closely to one, or both, but some are made uncomfortable by the implication that they are close to a binary gender.
i mean, like, some people would find it too similar to situations wherin their nonbinary id is erased in favour of treating them as their agab, but others are indifferent on that front, or have an id similar enough that they dont mind it, or... honestly, there are probably dozens if not hundreds if not more variety of specific reasons for a given nonbinary person to have feelings and opinions on how people who express attraction to them label themselves.
like... well, there is a fairly simple rule that i think covers this- actually, you know, communicate with the people who you’re involved with and get a feel for what they’re comfortable with, instead of assuming that all nonbinary people operate under the same context with regards to gender and orientation.
Summary: Jeanette appreciates Ace in a dress like we all wish we could
The premise for the party wasn’t out of the ordinary. Paul would be celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday, the idea readily agreed to by all, with Bill commandeering the venue's kitchen to throw a cake together. While the makeup was easy enough to scrounge up via girlfriends and Sean’s personal collection, wrangling dresses for all of them in two hours that were half-way flattering proved to be a bigger challenge. Jeanette had been a godsend; while the rest of the guys ran around downtown Lincoln looking for suitable options, she’d brought a few along on the off-chance she felt like a particularly glamorous night out. And Ace, upon holding the garments up, appeared just skinny enough to squeeze into at least a couple of them.
That was how Jeanette found herself sitting on a plush couch, watching her husband fling open the dressing room curtain and step out, hands poised at his waist, hip cocked and grinning like mad. “So?” He asked, popping a leg and sweeping his arm along it before tossing his head back and striking a pose. “Whatcha think?” He asks, gesturing to the long purple nightgown. She cocked a brow at him.
“Those are my pajamas, Paul. You’re not ruining my pajamas with beer and cake. I need them.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say you need them,”
She stares blankly at him.
“No.”
He laughs and smiles. “Alright, no jammies,” He retreats back behind the curtain. After a lot of rustling, a thump, and a grunt, he comes back out.
“How ‘bout this?”
She stifles a groan even as she smiles. “You can’t close the zipper. And it’s way too short for you. Pass.”
He grumbles something about a ‘party-pooper’, even as he shuffles back out of sight. He comes back out in half the time as the last one, looking just a little bit nervous.
“This one?”
The dress itself wasn't one of her favourites; the fabric on the wrong side of too light for the number of layers it had, high-maintenance on a windy day, the soft cream against her skin and hair washed her out. It was comfortable though, loose and long enough to keep from worrying about updrafts without sacrificing ease of movement. She certainly appreciated it now. The cut allowed room for his shoulders, pulling flat at the chest and masking the fact it was made for someone with breasts in mind. The bell sleeves fell about an inch below his elbows, and the longest skirt to the crook of his knee. When she wears it, she feels matronly and just a tad off-kilter. On him, it's boxy in a way that makes him soft and delicate, and he looks good.
Really good.
She doesn't feel like thinking too hard about how that makes her insides flutter.
“Come here often, doll?” She asks instead, crossing her legs and leaning forward, propping her chin up on her hand. He laughs then, softens his voice and drawls. “Oh, heavens no, Ah came here lookin’ for somethin’ nice for a party, just seem to be a lil lost now, y’hear?” She grins, lets her eyes rake over him, approving. “Well if you don’t mind me sayin’, you look mighty fine in that number there,” He bats his eyelashes at her and clasps his hands behind his back. “Ah bet you say that to all the gal's, y'old sweet talker you,”
“Sweet as icing, darlin’. Now I reckon it's high time you come on over here an’ see if we can't make somethin’ nice outta your sugar.” Ace gasps, presses a hand to his chest in mock offence.
“Sah, Ah'll have you know Ah’m married,”
There's a large part of her that preens at that, pleased as punch while the rest if her struggles to stay in character.
“Well, can't say I'm surprised t'hear that, a pretty thing like you. Whoever got your hand must know a thinger two about somethin',”
There's a shift in the air then, as he cocks his head, and she swears she watches his pupils blow wide. He lowers his hand, smooths both of them down the sides of the dress, slowing as he reaches his hips, brushing imaginary dirt off the garment before he struts towards her. He stops when their knees touch, her nose about level with his thigh. He watches for a moment as the hemline flutters under her breaths and takes her hands in his, pulling them apart before shifting to sit on her lap. It's easy enough spreading her legs to make room for his. He settles across them and drapes his arms around her shoulders, props one foot up on the cushion while the other hangs, toes brushing the floor, letting her body take his full weight. He's warm, still bony, but softer now in his stomach and thighs - a feat she hadn't thought possible even a year ago.
He's been tall and gangly, like a sapling, since she met him- gotten his roots in just right and anchored himself to her. She'd nourished him in kind, seen into his cracks and urged him to be better to and for himself. Seeing their efforts paying off makes something good squeeze in her chest, she can’t help herself as she presses her lips firm against his, smiles into it when he lets out a happy sigh against her cheek.
She brushes back his curtain of hair, tucking it behind his ear while she continues to press kisses to his lips, his jaw, below his ear, down to his throat. She plants a long, sucking kiss there as she skims her fingers over his ankle, up to his calf and around his shin, slips under the hem and up along his thigh, squeezing softly before finding her goal, stroking the bare flesh of his shaft. The lack of underthings aren’t a surprise. It’s the image of him walking around like that flitting through her head that has her sucking in a breath, giving him a firm pump and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She peppers kisses there, as many as she can- grazes her teeth along his pulse as she continues to stroke, drinking in his soft groans. She glances at his face to find him staring heavy-lidded into his lap. Following his gaze, she lets out a groan at the sight. The dress is draped over his proud cock, shifting as she works him and doing nothing to obscure the slide of her hand, nor the bob of her prize.
She curls one hand around the underside of his jaw and gently pulls his head down to the couch, squeezing his shaft in approval as he goes without a fight, back arching. She slides her hand to his spine and traces it to the small of his back where she presses up. He gets the memo and raises his hips for her. She curls down, presses her lips to his stomach before moving to do the same to his tip. The fabric is soft and slightly cool under her lips, warming with Ace’s growing body heat. She feels his cock twitch against her lips and smiles, straightening back up and stroking his cheek.
“You’re being so good,” she sighs out. Ace groans and his hips buck up; Jeanette grins.
“Yeah? You like it? Like being a good girl for me?” He groans again and nods hard, rolls his hips up into her hand. She licks over her palm, then slips it back under the dress to close around his cockhead, squeeze and slide all the way down, rubbing at his perineum with her thumb. He bucks and cries out, clings to her arm like a lifeline.
She lets go of his shaft, lifts his hips off her lap so she can perch over him, splay him on the couch proper. “That’s it, keep your skirts down for me honey.” She croons, petting his thigh. “Good, that's good,” She kisses his cheek, then kisses him full on when he moans, slow and easy. She kisses him till she's lightheaded, breaks off and presses her forehead to his, delights in his expressions. Her love for him blooms hot seeing his eyelashes flutter, how he's gripping his skirts for dear life as he tries to keep from pushing up to meet her; his cock pushing up against the fabric making it clear it's got other plans.
She's aching in her core, watching him fall apart so easily for her. She seals her lips to his for an instant and pulls back. “I’ve got an idea,” She grins. “You game?” His head lolls to better catch her eyes. He gives her a slow, dopey smile and nods “Uh-huh” .
She shucks off her pants and underwear and settles back between his thighs. She throws a leg over one of Ace's, hikes his other over her hip, and presses her folds to his shaft. He sighs out at the contact, rubbing his cheek against the couch as he tries and fails to keep his hips still, grabbing at the back of her knee instead. She groans in kind, unrestrained as she rolls herself against his arousal. There’s no illusion that it's anything other than his cock- fat and hard and hot against her. She bites her lip, sound catching in her throat as she trembles and begins to rut in earnest, bracing herself with the hand at his hip and using the other to press his thigh up till it's flush with his chest, groaning when his mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut. A thrill runs down her spine seeing him like this, seeing him sprawled under her, his hair a dark halo around his face, damp ends curling at his cheeks.
“Paulie, Paulie you look so good, you're so beautiful” She curls down to him, panting as she mouths at his collarbone, trails kisses up to just under his ear and sucks a mark into the flesh there. “You’re so pretty like this,” She pants into his skin. “So pretty, and I don't have to share you with anyone,”
The last part is false; a blatant lie and they both know it, but it's worth the momentary unease for the way Ace's cock twitches, the way he moans and squeezes her thigh. He's still got his one hand fisted in his skirts and the sight is so endearing she can't help but kiss him breathless.
She presses her mouth to his again and again, kissing him deep and feeling him melt beneath her. His thigh quivers in her grasp, the one under her jerking every now and then; he's close. She flattens herself against him, presses her breasts to his chest and kisses him for all she's worth. He abandons his skirts in favour of wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight as he comes with a cry, head lolled and eyes closed, heaving. Jeanette watches him come down, pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw, still idly rubbing herself on him. He blinks his eyes open and looks up at her “Not yet?” She smiles and shakes her head.
Ace is immediately hauling her up to sit on his face, burying his nose in her curls and breathing deep, pressing a kiss to the crease of her thigh before going to town. She lets her head fall back and moans loud, carding her hands through his hair as she grinds down against his tongue. Ace wraps his arms around her, fingers sinking into the meat of her thighs as he keeps her sex flush with his lips, warm and slippery with her own arousal.
Ace doesn't need to stick his tongue out at any opportunity to prove he knows how to use it; she knows, but appreciates the reminder anyways. He's got that hot little bundle of nerves of hers under delicious pressure, the soft lip and flat of his tongue loving on it while he rubs the end of the muscle over the sensitive stretch of skin below her entrance.
He slips one hand to her ass, squeezes and urges her to rock, to use him as she likes. She moans out her approval at that, sinking her fingers deeper into his locks and tugging , scratches her nails against his scalp for good measure. He keens, straining up like he can fuse them together if he just tries hard enough, slurping loudly as he sucks on her folds. She's dripping wet and aching, spit and slick smearing down her thighs from Ace's efforts -a messy eater on the best days-, pushing his tongue up into her, curling it and dragging more out of her like a man dying of thirst. The obscene noises would have her in stitches if she could focus on anything other than the stimulation making her breath hitch and her thighs tremble.
It's too much now, far too much, her hand flies to one of Ace’s still gripping her thigh and locks their fingers together, uses the other to keep Ace’s head still so she can press that little bit closer. Her head tips back, and with an “Oh, Paul”, she comes.
She stays there for a moment, basks in the thrumming in her limbs, the loose and happy warmth rolling through her in waves and tries to catch her breath. She sighs, lifts up and leans back to look at Ace’s face. He's starry eyed and panting, lips and cheeks and chin glistening with her love. He holds her gaze as he licks it from the corner of his mouth. She cups his face and kisses him hard, groans at the easy slide of their lips, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs and rubs her slick into his skin. She pulls back and Ace closes his eyes, lets out a happy sigh as he smiles.
She eventually shimmies down off Ace's shoulders to sit on his stomach instead, sprawling herself over him as much as she can on the narrow couch. Propping herself up on her elbow, she brushes his sweaty hair away from his forehead, watching him watch her as he catches his breath. She presses her lips to the underside of his jaw. “That was really good.” She murmurs into his skin, reveling in the way his pulse jumps. “Would you be up for that again?” He nods, post-orgasm lethargy draping his arms heavy across her back and holding her there even as his hips twitch up against her. “You know I have panties that go with this,” She tugs at the fabric at his waist for good measure. “You wanna wear them as well?”
Ace's arms stiffen slightly at that. She glances up and snorts at the conflicted look on his face. She stretches up to smack a kiss to his cheek and smile at him. “It won't be for long,” The conflict morphs to pain, nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling as he frowns up at her, blinks. She kisses his cheek again, still smiling, and rolls her hips against his stomach to prove her point. “I promise,”
The gears turn away in his head for a few seconds, lips pursing before a grin splits his face and he hugs her closer, kissing her in turn and squeezing her hip. “Mmmyeah. Okay,” She grins back at him, shifts to slot their lips together again and stops short at the lukewarm squelch between their bodies. Upon inspection she finds Ace's partially congealed spunk clinging to the dress and, now, smeared on her stomach. She's aware of the grimace on her face when Ace cracks up under her, jostling them both and failing to get himself under control. She scoots herself over, keeping balance on her forearms as she assesses the damage to the fabric. It needs a wash before it’s able to face the general public again; it won't be ready to use for the party. She doesn't consider that a loss - the heat in her gut at being the sole spectator to the ordeal dictates the opposite to be true. Instead she hauls herself upright, takes another long look at her husband, sated and sweaty and disheveled in one of her dresses, commits it to memory before turning to locate her pants. She pulls them on, smiling to herself when Ace groans behind her. She picks up her discarded panties, hooking a finger through one leg hole and turning to face him again.
“C'mon,” she says as she lines her arm up with Ace's chest, pulling the waistband taut and letting go abruptly. She snorts at his indignant squawk as they thwap over his eyes. “We still need to find you a dress,” He lifts the delicate garment from his face, slips his fingers through both legs and holds them up. She watches the gears turn in his brain before something seems to click.
“Hey,” he says, bouncing the elastic between his hands, grinning and looking over to her.
