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Your Silence Is My Favourite Sound

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“A war of two years, two long years, where so many of our men shed their blood and bodies. We dug their graves and bid them early farewell. We cried tears of grief yet we fought to strive for victory and protect the clan and its people. But today– today I stand before you to tell you that the war has finally come to an end!” The King announces. “The conflict has ceased, and peace has finally graced us with her blessings!”

The people burst into cheers, they scream, some cry, exuberant over the fact that the war that had been looming over their heads like an overcast sky for the past two years has finally cleared. Yet Taehyung sits unmoving in his seat, still as a statue behind his father’s looming figure, his stomach in knots. The war is over, but Taehyung understands that peace isn’t so easy to achieve.

Peace isn’t easy to achieve, with men driven to a carnal hysteria by rage and revenge and greed, peace isn’t so simple to achieve. A war doesn’t end like this. A war ends in no one’s victory, it brings only anguish, and there’s no glory to speak of– only fools speak of glory, there’s nothing glorious about death. And death doesn’t discriminate, it takes from both sides equally.

War brings death. And to make peace, sacrifices must be made.

And the sacrifice for this peace is a single person.

“On this day of celebration, I announce to you another joyous occasion– one of the betrothal of my youngest son!” The King roars. Taehyung stands and walks to his spot beside his father. His father wraps an arm around his shoulder, tight and proud.

The crowd breaks into a deafening applause. Taehyung stares straight ahead and meets his eyes. The omega stares right back.

“With this marriage comes a promise of peace after a years long feud. The Alpha and Omega clan will be joined in this celebration; I hereby welcome the Prince of Omegas into this palace as a gesture of our trust, and give you my own son, the Prince of Alphas, in holy matrimony.”

The omega steps forward, Taehyung watches him take a delicate step without breaking eye contact. The omega walks deeper into the court, it feels eerily like watching a lamb walking into a den of wolves. Except the omega looks nothing like a lamb.

He’s beautiful, viciously so. His eyes glitter dangerously against Taehyung’s. His posture is straight as a rod, head held high as if in defiance, nothing like the subservient nature expected of omegas. Perhaps it’s fear that manifests into the omega’s dauntless walk, a barricade of facade, or the last attempt at maintaining dignity as he walks towards the platform Taehyung stands on, robes hitched above his ankles, face bare of a veil, knives tied to his waist, and comes to a bow before him.

“Your Majesty” He greets, forehead held against his knee, even bowing he looks proud. “For the sake of this peace, please allow me an opportunity to display my clan’s trust.” He looks up, addressing Taehyung’s father but his gaze is fixed on Taehyung alone.

The King tilts his head in curiosity, but makes an acceding gesture.

The omega stands up straight and then proceeds to untie the knives from his waist. Taehyung watches, curiosity heightened, as he simply places the knives in front of him and seats himself on his knees before the entire court.

“For several long years, our clans have been locked in conflict. But as of today, we bear no animosity for our clans share the same dream of peace. As a gesture of trust, for the sake of this peace, I will allow anyone in this court to take a knife and cut away a piece of my clothing– as big as they please, from wherever they please, and take it home with them.”

The omega’s words are met with silence.

He sits in the middle of the court on his knees, wrapped in silk robes of the finest quality, covered in jewels, the glittering knives spread out in front of him, still as a statue, proud to the bone.

The sacrifice for this war is a single person.

For a while, the court is silent, everyone’s eyes on a single figure. Then a rustling of clothes is heard. 

Taehyung’s eyes snap to his right where he sees the chief of his army making a motion to stand. He looks back at the omega who sits still as the man makes his way to him and grabs one of the knives at his disposal– the largest one.

The omega remains resolutely still and stares straight ahead as the alpha inspects the knife. The man’s eyes roam up and down the omega’s body before he tilts his head in curiosity and brings the knife’s blunt edge to brush against the omega’s cheek softly.

The omega remains unmoving. 

Taehyung narrows his eyes, there’s a prickling heat swimming underneath his skin as the alpha brings the blade down and makes a bold cut at the front of the omega’s clothes right across his chest, making the cloth over his shoulders part to the sides and fall to the floor, leaving the omega in his less decorative hwarot .

The first move emboldens a few others. More alphas approach the silent figure and cut off chunks of the omega’s silk that was once a beautiful piece of blue and silver but is now slashed away by his own knives.

The omega remains motionless through it all, his face devoid of any expression, but his eyes– his eyes find Taehyung’s in the midst of it all while one of Taehyung’s subjects is hacking away at his warring tunic, exposing his pale collarbones. 

Taehyung holds his gaze, stares at the omega’s unblinking black irises, it’s like the omega is showing him something.

Like the omega is showing him the reality for what it is. The peace between their clans– what it truly and actually is.

Taehyung glances at his father’s face from the corner of his eye. The King looks smug. But to his right, Taehyung’s older brother, Namjoon, observes the spectacle with the corners of his lips turned down. Taehyung inspects the faces of the alphas in the court, those who have pieces of silk that once covered the omega’s body fisted between their fingers, those who’re eyeing the omega’s skin– the little that is visible, those who’re eyeing the daggers in front of the omega. 

There are whispers, a few laughs, it’s a humiliating spectacle. 

An alpha who has the knife in his hand hacks away at the last remaining cloth on the omega’s chest and the tunic falls apart.

The omega stands with his bare chest to the court, his chin up like he’s not the one who’s been disgraced, like Taehyung should be the one ashamed.

The alpha with the knife in his hand doesn’t drop it, he stands before the omega, blade in hand, the omega’s skin up for display. 

The omega prince meets Taehyung’s eyes again. The alpha raises the knife, this time bringing the blade to the omega’s face, and presses it against the omega’s cheek.

A drop of blood trickles down. The omega watches Taehyung, as if saying look at this, this is your peace.

Taehyung’s striding towards them before he can think through the rage. He yanks back the alpha’s hand, wringing his wrist till the man drops the knife. It clatters on the floor and the noise resounds in the silent court.

“That is my mate whose blood you spilled just now.” He snarls, shoves the alpha away.

And then, with a meaningful look sweeping across the court, meeting every alpha’s eyes, Taehyung takes off his own crimson and gold ornamented robe and wraps it around the omega’s shoulders. He takes in the sight of the omega prince, who now looks small shrouded in Taehyung’s robes, and grits his teeth.

Making a sharp turn, he puts himself between the omega and the court, and looks at everyone in the crowd before him.

“Everyone who laid a hand on my mate–” He glares at the court, and barks “have their clothes ripped off and give them twenty lashes.”

Taehyung’s orders have the court gasping and whispering. Taehyung meets the King’s eyes stonily. 

“I shall escort the prince to his chambers.” He doesn’t ask for permission, cups his fingers around the omega’s wrist and tugs at it slightly. The omega stands up and Taehyung twists around to look at him.

The omega prince stares back at him, his pretty face devoid of expression save for a single line of blood streaked across his cheek– red like the color of Taehyung’s clan. Taehyung clicks his tongue in irritation and strides out of the court, dragging the omega behind him.

 

 

 

“You didn’t have to do that.” It’s the omega who breaks the frosty silence between them.

Taehyung doesn’t reply. He pulls him into his chambers, but once they’re inside, the prince yanks his wrist out out of Taehyung’s grasp and Taehyung turns around to face him.

He finally spots signs of the omega’s facade breaking, the stiff shoulders, the mouth that’s pulled into a fierce snarl, eyes narrowed, bare chest heaving– Taehyung’s robe now on the floor.

“I did not need some fucking saviour.” The omega spits.

Taehyung narrows his eyes, regards the man who would soon be his mate. “Did you expect me to simply sit there and watch your clothes get torn off you?”

The omega sneers, “I’d believed you would've enjoyed the show, your Highness. Your people certainly did.” 

Taehyung’s expression hardens and he clenches his fingers into fists.

“What do you expect to gain from your demonstrations? The war is over, we’re finally moving towards peace, I don’t understand why you are bent on–”

At this the omega laughs, abrasive and sarcastic, it’s a crude sound.

“Of course you don’t understand . Why would you? You call this peace? You say that we are equals now? Surely you don’t think that if you were to take my place, you would have your clothes torn off you by the hands of your subjects?”

“I certainly would not have asked for it.” Taehyung replies, scathing. He feels strangely belligerent, the omega infuriates him, he is arrogant, and condescending, and yet he's the person Taehyung's fate is going to be tied to for the rest of their lives.

The omega’s eyes smoulder and incinerate, his irises charred black with rage, even as the rest of his face remains carefully blank.

When he speaks, his voice is bone-chilling and menacing. “Since we are to be wed, let’s make some things clear between us. Your peace he aims a disdainful look, a loathing snarl, “is a travesty at best. It’s a sham.” 

He takes a step closer, leaning right into Taehyung’s air. “And the oppressed sit still for only so long, my lord. The war is far from over.”

They’re close, chest to chest, at this distance Taehyung can see the dried blood on his cheek, can feel the omega’s hot breath against his skin. And Taehyung smiles, lips curling up in a cruel sneer, no longer bothering to keep up a pretence as the contempt swims in his eyes.

“We will be betrothed in three days,” He says coldly, turning around and walking to the door. He pauses right before he leaves the room and drawls over his shoulder, “it wouldn’t remain your clan much longer.”

 

 

 

“He’s obnoxious.” Yoongi curses, lips curled in a snarl. Jungkook is seated on the bed, his face pinched with concern, while Yoongi paces around the room. “He’s insufferable and egoistic. He degrades me like I’m some weakling omega–” 

“Hyung,” Jungkook interrupts him, his voice so soft it's almost a whisper. “Was this the only way?” 

The tremor in his voice makes Yoongi halt.

Yoongi looks at his younger brother, and the anger seeps out of him, replaced instead by an incapacitating helplessness. Jungkook's head bent down, and his shoulders dipped in a defeated curve, Yoongi sighs.

“It’s our only chance.” Yoongi whispers, the words feel poisonous, and they burn the flesh of his tongue. “You know that.”

“But–” Jungkook takes a tremulous inhale, his nails digging into the fabric of his dress. “Alpha troops will invade our land under the pretence of providing us protection.” He insists. “We’ll be robbed of self-governance. Not to mention the stress our land will bear, having to feed their gigantic army. How are we to prepare an attack under these circumstances?” Jungkook looks up, eyes glistening with the tears he tries to hold back. “If it comes to the worst, the nation will reach the brink of starvation, if not a civil war first.”

Yoongi drops himself on the bed, robes splayed out around him. The crown on his head feels heavy, unforgiving in its weight. 

“Jimin and Seokjin are working on allying other captured kingdoms against the alphas.” Yoongi whispers, reveals. Jungkook's eyes widen. Yoongi knows all too well that Jungkook has managed to read between the lines, that he hears what Yoongi doesn't say. But he carries on, nonetheless, “what our kingdom needs at this moment is a strong unfaltering ruler.” 

Yoongi stares hard at him, “Jungkook–”

“No” Jungkook gasps, immediately whipping his head up, but Yoongi cuts him off.

“You know there'll be no better opportunity than this. This is the only way.” Yoongi grabs Jungkook by the shoulders and tries to exude a confidence he does not feel. “I trust you. You’re the lifeline of this kingdom.”

“But–” Jungkook’s voice is thin, “you can't– no–” he gasps, frantic, his fingers coming to fist around Yoongi's robes and pull him closer. And Yoongi feels his chest constrict at the panic in Jungkook's eyes. 

“I won't let you do this–” Jungkook rasps, the tears fall and streak his face. His voice cracks mid-sentence, and Jungkook lets out a loud agonized sob.

“Kook-ah” Yoongi murmurs, gently wiping the tears off his face but they keep falling.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook cries. “You don't deserve this, they don't get to sell you– I'm sorry,” he gasps for a breath, his shoulders quiver, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry–”

“Kook-ah, look at me– here, look at me” He tilts Jungkook's chin up. “Being a ruler isn’t the only way you protect your kingdom. Sometimes– sometimes your duty is to simply be a pawn, a decoy, a sacrifice. And if this is my fate, I’ll do it.” He kisses his wet cheek and pulls him into an embrace.

“So don’t let my sacrifice be in vain, yes?” Yoongi whispers, his own voice growing wet.

Jungkook cries even more at his words, trembles in Yoongi's arms, but nods in a silent promise.

 

 

 

Yoongi sits still as his skin is painted with ancient runes and glyphs running and winding down his torso like an encircling dragon, spiralling down from his spine to his hip, intricate threads of violets and reds colouring his body.

His eyes are rimmed black with kohl, and he’s made to turn in circles as the servants drape the ceremonial cloth around his waist, tucked in and tied in a knot behind his neck. Servants flutter around him, staining his lips with a deep rose red, dusting a faint blush on his cheeks and weaving flowers through his dark hair. 

Yoongi finally gazes at his reflection in the glass, and his lips curl in distaste. His skin appears even paler in the red royal robes draped over his dress. He looks delicate, dainty like a prey covered in the Alpha clan colours.

He holds his tongue on his appearance since this celebration is to be held according to the Alpha traditions in their kingdom and will be followed by another in the Omega clan. The decision had been made to hold two ceremonies instead of one– better to have two separate weddings according to the two clans’ customs than have a single poorly executed compromise.

Yoongi picks the veil kept on the dresser and places the sheer cloth on his head, pinning it under his crown. The veil is kept long, falling till the hem of his robes. A servant hands him a large fan, red like his clothes and decorated with pictures of heroic roaring golden wolves. Yoongi opens the fan and holds it before his face.

The clothing is stifling and weighs heavy on his body yet Yoongi’s heart is the heavier burden to bear. 

The ceremony is held outdoors, Yoongi can hear the cheers of the gathered crowds all the way inside his chambers. And when the horn blares, Yoongi is escorted to the ceremonial grounds. Horns and drums announce his arrival and the crowd immediately hushes. 

He descends the marble steps, mindful of not stepping on his clothes, face hidden behind the fan held in one hand, the other hitching his robes to his ankles. The staircase descends to a path littered with flowers– white magnolias and red blossoms, leading ahead to the wide ceremonial grounds. An elevated platform sits to its right, with four figures seated on high chairs.

Yoongi spots Taehyung seated on the platform, clad in the same crimson on Yoongi’s clothes. 

Their eyes meet, but Taehyung’s face is carefully blank, his eyes stormy and his lips set in a firm line. He looks daunting, impressively handsome and Yoongi grits his teeth when his cheeks start to colour unbidden. 

He looks away reluctantly and continues to walk at a controlled pace, forcing a small smile on his face as he regards the crowds before him that stretch all the way to the horizon, all of them with their eyes trained on him. The sight should make him nervous but Yoongi feels a strange calm, feels an odd flush of power with their eyes on him.

The servants halt and Yoongi resumes walking alone, careful graceful steps, his robes swishing against his legs, till he stands alone before the four figures– Taehyung, his older brother and Crown Prince, and the two clan Kings. His own father watches him with an unreadable expression. The Alpha King is smiling and Yoongi forces himself on to his knees, the scene feels familiar, and touches his head to the ground before them.

After receiving the Kings’ blessings, he quickly rises to his feet and walks forward to the center of the clearing where they’ve made room for him, gathering around him in a wide circle. Two servants, one from either side, approach him. Yoongi lifts his arms and they pull the red robes and veil off his body, retreating again. 

The ritual dance is something Yoongi had to be forced to learn against his will, he’s not a dancer but his body is thin– lean and flexible, and it’s almost like swordplay but to a choreographed melody. Yoongi’s not a dancer, he’s a warrior, and the alpha prince is sure to find out soon enough.

The song starts off slow, drums playing a steady rhythmic beat. Yoongi flicks his fan open and bends on one knee, his dress flaring out. The posture itself is not traditional, not the grace of a dancer but the poise of a hunter.

When the beat picks up, becomes faster, Yoongi’s feet move. His dress had been hand-picked by himself, chosen for a simple purpose that its full-length slit allows his legs to move freely. Yoongi twists his body to the beat, forcefully slicing the air with the fan like he would with a sword. He keeps his eyes on Taehyung as he spins, his silk dress flowing around him like water, and sure enough his mate’s eyes are wide as he watches Yoongi’s powerful dance.

Yoongi turns on the spot in succession, and the dress flies as he comes to an abrupt stop– body bent on one knee, fan covering his face save for his eyes. The music comes to a halt as well. Yoongi spots another servant making his way towards him and that’s his signal.

With an arrogant smile Yoongi rises to his feet, stands straight, chin up, eyes still on the alpha prince. He drops the fan at his feet. A deliberate step forward and a hand slowly reaching his throat, Yoongi sharply tugs at the knot tied to the back of his neck, undoing it.

There are exclamations of shock in the crowd as Yoongi’s dress comes loose and he makes quick work of tying it around his waist, leaving his oiled painted chest bare. He smiles.

The servant arrives with the items and diligently places them before Yoongi– a cup of soju, and two torches, lit and unlit. 

Meeting Taehyung’s eyes once again, Yoongi picks up the cup of soju and downs it. 

Making his way back to the center of the clearing with the two torches, Yoongi brings the fire to his mouth and in one powerful move, spews out the soju into the air in front of him, breathing out a column of fire as the alcohol catches fire. 

He hears the awed whispers, and he wants to look at his mate again but his eyes are unfocused and teary from the heat. The sky is turning dark, breaching into late evening. Spinning the torches in his hands, Yoongi lights the unlit the torch as well and the music picks up once again.

This time it’s louder, faster, Yoongi’s heart hammers in his chest and he can’t hear past his own chest gasping for air. He spins the torches around his waist, over and under his body, throws them in the air and twirls his oiled body in a twisted intricate dance, nothing like the delicate grace expected of omegas, but harsh and thunderous– a precursor to his mate of what and who he is.

Approaching the end of his ritual, Yoongi catches the torches mid-air, brings them to his mouth, throws his head back and swallows the fire. A ripple of alarmed gasps flows through the crowd. 

Yoongi throws the torches in the sand and finally nears the closing act of his orchestrated performance. The sky has turned a deep blue, closing into the night, and the moonlight shines on his glistening body. Yoongi can tell he has everyone’s attention on him, the crowd has gone deathly silent, and he’s almost pleased to have them looking at him like he holds the power despite there being someone else sitting on the throne.

With a flick of his eyes he can make out the downward twist of his father’s lips, he’s clearly not pleased by Yoongi’s choice of demonstrative power play. The alpha prince however– Yoongi can read the amusement in Taehyung's eyes, accompanied by something darker.

Yoongi gestures to his right, a quick snap of his fingers, and another servant comes up to him, this time with a sword in hand. 

Unsheathing the sword by the hilt, Yoongi takes measured steps towards the platform. He climbs the stairs slowly and deliberately, letting the crowds absorb his intentions, before coming to a stop before his mate.

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at him in question, nothing on his face gives away how he feels. Instead of answering him, Yoongi goes down on one knee and bows, raising the sword in front of him as an invitation. The reaction from the crowd is discordant, Yoongi hears an audible gasp from the first prince sitting on Taehyung’s left.

It’s an ancient tradition, not one practiced by them anymore, where a wolf would decide their mate by duelling them. Only if the wolf was defeated by the opponent would they select them as their mate.

When his invitation is met with silence, Yoongi glances up at the alpha. Taehyung is watching him, his gaze dark. Taehyung makes no move to accept the sword, and Yoongi cocks a brow at him.

“Your Highness, are you implying that you don’t have faith in our parents’ judgement?” Taehyung says, smiling, but his voice is condescending.

Yoongi tilts his head slightly, and replies just as cockily. “My lord, are you suggesting that you may lose?”

Taehyung laughs loudly and startles Yoongi by accepting the sword.

“As you wish, I accept your challenge.” He leans forward in his seat, his next words a hot breath against Yoongi’s ear. “But having said that, there isn’t a single warrior here who has defeated me.”

 

 

 

They make their way to the center of the clearing, standing a few feet apart. A servant fetches Yoongi’s sword for him. Taehyung has abandoned his outer robe as well and has his blade aimed at Yoongi. His body is more built, his frame broader than Yoongi’s, and he holds his weapon with familiarity like he’s had enough practice spilling blood with it.

The moon is high in the sky, torches are hung on the trees in the periphery to provide light. They circle one another, one foot in front of another, gauging the other’s posture. The crowds are silent as they watch them with bated breath. 

Taehyung smiles at him, he looks at ease, and it irks Yoongi. The alpha holds the advantage with Yoongi’s body being worn out by the rituals, and a prolonged duel will only work against him.

Taking advantage of the choice of timing, Yoongi leans to his left to throw Taehyung off but immediately steps to the right and attacks.

Taehyung meets him in a flash, blocking his attack with ease. Yoongi pivots on his foot and strikes him on the other end. Taehyung counters it swiftly, side-stepping Yoongi’s feint. They seem to be matched in power, although Yoongi feels beads of sweat roll down his back– his muscles weary by the ritual dance. On the other hand, Taehyung doesn’t seem to be jaded in the least.

Yoongi is startled when Taehyung chooses to shift to offensive. He constantly deflects Taehyung’s blade with his, barely keeping up with the alpha's incessant attacks. But Taehyung’s strikes slowly increase in power and Yoongi is gradually pushed back.

Yoongi has heard of Taehyung’s reputation on the battlefield– a demon, they call him, cruel and relentless, but it’s only when he’s on the other end of his sword does he truly acknowledge the alpha’s skill. Yoongi’s clan doesn’t have as strong a military prowess as the alphas but Yoongi prides himself on being an impressive swordsman, especially since he’s never solely relied on fair play.

He allows himself to be pushed back by Taehyung’s ceaseless attacks, searching for the right opportunity. And it presents itself when Taehyung and him have locked blades and by now Yoongi’s arm strength has evidently diminished, giving Taehyung the upper hand. Taehyung pushes on with his blade, Yoongi’s arm trembles slightly.

He sees it in Taehyung’s eyes– the delusion that he’s already won, and just as Taehyung goes for his last strike, confident that he’ll emerge victorious, so does Yoongi. Taehyung takes a step forward, the sword’s edge raised high, and Yoongi deliberately swings his leg to knock Taehyung off his feet.

Taehyung notices it but his reflexes kick in a second too late. He manages to avoid Yoongi’s leg and side-steps to the right, but his balance falters for a moment and Yoongi takes the opportunity to turn on his foot and ram an elbow into the alpha’s back.

Taehyung falls to the floor with a sharp hiss of pain, but before Yoongi can completely trap him immobile, Taehyung’s twisting around and meeting Yoongi’s sword with his own. His sword keeps Yoongi trapped long enough for Taehyung’s feet to kick at his own, pushing him off his feet, using his own move against him.

Yoongi’s falling to his feet, sword clattering to the right but before he can make a move, Taehyung’s on him. His hands slam Yoongi’s wrists to the sand, and his thighs trap Yoongi’s hips in place.

“You’re impressive,” Taehyung pants, and again with his conceited grin, “but there isn’t a single warrior who has defeated me.” He repeats.

Their faces are close, and Yoongi notices his state of undress and Taehyung’s scent clouding the air between them. It’s heady and so overwhelmingly alpha that it should feel repulsive but instead Yoongi’s thighs tremble, involuntarily closing into themselves.

“Perhaps you’re truly thrilled at the prospect of mating me, your Highness.” He pants out instead, voice coming out breathier than he’d like it to be, and attempts to distract himself from his body’s reaction to the alpha’s scent.

There’s a moment of dissonance where Yoongi doesn’t know if he imagines Taehyung’s eyes flickering to his lips before snapping back to his eyes. Something thick and stormy swims in his irises, and Taehyung leans closer to whisper against his ear.

“Perhaps I am. I’d enjoy to fuck that disobedience out of you, omega.”

Yoongi hates how his pulse jumps at the words, body shuddering. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the way Taehyung smirks at him above. Yoongi tries to resist but Taehyung’s hold on his wrists is stronger and the alpha tightens his grip on him as if to prove a point.

But before Yoongi can retaliate, Taehyung releases his wrists and stands back up on his feet.

“Let’s go, your Highness. Everyone is waiting for us,” he smiles, and then with a cock of his head adds, “unless you wish to be carried.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the alpha’s obvious attempt to rile him up and reluctantly accepts Taehyung’s outstretched hand to pull himself back to his feet.

 

 

 

“We are gathered here today to witness the holy matrimony, the joining of two kingdoms and two clans through their sons– the son of the Alphas, Kim Taehyung, and the son of the Omegas, Min Yoongi, who will be bonded today and be of one heart, soul and body. It is a union of peace and harmony, and we pray to the gods that the royal match is blessed with abundance, with fertility, with joy and bliss.”

Yoongi and Taehyung offer their wrists at the priest’s gesture. The priest, an old wrinkled beta, reads the holy incantation out loud and intertwines a red twine around their wrists, Yoongi’s left and the alpha’s right, that is meant to bind them together for the rest of the night until their joining. 

They repeat their own chants, wedding vows of loyalty and respect, of love and health, and slowly but surely their words start to take effect. Yoongi feels an intangible bond tying him to his mate, a heated pull in his stomach, and with the way Taehyung’s hand tightens around his, he’s certain that the alpha feels it too.

The priest finishes the recitation and both of them are given their knives. Yoongi holds the cool metal in his free hand and presses the sharp edge of the blade against the palm of the hand tied to his mate. The pain stings and swells, Yoongi hisses but holds it in and lets his blood drip into the bowl before them. The alpha prince does the same but his face reveals no trace of pain.

The priest gestures at the bowl and then at them. “Drink from it.”

Taehyung picks the bowl first, cups it between his palms and brings their mixed blood to his lips, taking Yoongi’s joined hand with him as he raises his own. He takes a large gulp, his throat shifting as he drinks from the bowl until it’s half empty. Yoongi watches the dark blood stain his lips, it makes his throat go dry.

Yoongi licks at his lips when Taehyung shifts to face him. His dark eyes meet Yoongi’s. 

Taehyung’s fingers come to touch his chin briefly, tilting his head up, and Yoongi obediently parts his lips for the alpha to pour their mixed blood down his tongue.

It’s warm, strong and heady, a mixture of both their scents, and Yoongi feels a pulsating heat in his stomach, throbbing before it rests pleasantly like good alcohol, making him feel a little light in the head. Yoongi's fingers wrap around Taehyung’s wrist in a feather-light touch and the alpha pulls the bowl from his mouth, lowering it on the ground before them once again.

Lastly, the priest fetches a bowl of uncooked dry rice and guides Taehyung’s hand to it. Taehyung takes a pinch of the rice grains and dips them in the blood. He then lifts his hand, the tips of his fingers smeared red, and holds it in mid-air.

Yoongi leans forward and brings his forehead close enough for Taehyung to stick the rice grains on the skin between Yoongi’s eyebrows, dragging his finger higher and streaking the skin with a line of blood till he reaches Yoongi’s hairline. 

Yoongi repeats the process, not looking away from his mate's eyes, and the action feels intimate, so much so that Yoongi’s fingers tremble at the base of Taehyung’s forehead. It feels absolute, binding, their lives will be irrevocably entwined by the end of the night and Yoongi feels a cold dread churn in his stomach.

Yoongi startles when he feels Taehyung's fingers interweaving with his own, and squeezing lightly as if in assurance. It serves to remind Yoongi that they’re being watched by a countless number of eyes and he shakily drags his bloodstained fingers up Taehyung’s forehead, marking him and finishing the rites.

The crowd bursts into cheers, and Yoongi stands up from his kneeling position. Taehyung mirrors him and again they stand facing each other. 

Yoongi gathers his garments between his fingers and bends into a big bow. The gesture is to be returned but Yoongi cannot see it, his eyes are trained to the ground beneath his feet and his vision blurs from the hot tears that treacherously escape and drip down his eyelashes.

Yoongi didn’t shed a tear when it was announced that he’ll be wed to the Alpha prince, that he’ll be sold off by his own country and denied the throne he was promised since birth. Yoongi never shed a tear.

But now, with his head touching the ground in front of his alpha in full submission, Yoongi cries.

 

 

 

If Taehyung notices his wet lashes, he doesn’t comment on it. They walk towards the open field where the rest of the wedding celebrations continue, this time without them partaking in the events. Yoongi is exhausted from the day’s proceedings, he doesn't protest when Taehyung threads their fingers together, it's not as if they have much of a choice with their bound wrists, but it also serves to balance the facade of a happily wed couple they’re meant to be wearing in front of the crowds. 

Several people come to congratulate them, it surprises Yoongi how many of them include him as well in their blessings. Yoongi had assumed that the country’s people were cold and unkind like their ruler but he’s proven wrong when numerous women approach him to praise his dance and compliment him on his beauty. Yoongi can’t keep the color from his cheeks as he thanks them, somewhat surprised but sincere. Children gush over his fire dance and Yoongi grins and pats them on the head. Their words somehow manage to lighten the weight on his chest and he finds himself breathing easier, the smile on his face becoming more genuine even as he feels the alpha’s eyes linger on him.

A long table is set up on the elevated platform for the royal family and a number of other court officials and nobles. It’s close enough to watch the festivities in comfort. There are mats on the grounds for the commoners. 

The officials rise to greet them, bending at the waist as they do, and Yoongi and Taehyung mirror the gesture and speak their respective greetings before taking their seats at the table.

Yoongi seats himself between Taehyung and an official whom he doesn’t recognise. Taehyung’s older brother, Kim Namjoon, is seated opposite him. Yoongi hasn’t seen the man much other than the first time he'd been brought to the royal court. He’s handsome, Yoongi observes, very much like the rest of the Kim bloodline, but unlike Taehyung, the Crown Prince is of a lighter frame, a scholar as opposed to a warrior from what Yoongi’s heard.

“You certainly know how to leave an impression, Prince Yoongi.” The Crown Prince smiles and Yoongi laughs politely in response.

“I take it you’re impressed then.” Yoongi cocks his head.

“Immensely.” The prince says, offering his hand in Yoongi’s direction. The gesture takes Yoongi by surprise. Shaking hands is more an informal greeting between friends, not very popular among the royalty where everyone’s all too concerned about status and titles. Yoongi glances up at the prince’s face for any sign of mockery but the Crown Prince merely smiles, warm and genuine.

Going along with the unconventional greeting, Yoongi meets Namjoon’s handshake, holding it for a few seconds before retreating his hand. He observes how the two brothers are so unlike each other.

“I hope you’re liking it here. My little brother isn’t giving you too much trouble is he?”

Taehyung snorts at the mention of his name and Yoongi glances to his side to look at the man.

“Clearly I’m the troublemaker between the two of us.” He says, voice flat and sarcastic.

Before Yoongi can retaliate, a woman appears behind Taehyung and smacks him hard on the head.

“Ouch” Taehyung cries and twists his neck to glance behind him. “Mother!” He complains, the look of betrayal almost comical on his face.

Yoongi stares wide-eyed at the queen. If not for the amused smile on her lips, Yoongi would’ve mistaken her to be furious. Her face has a daunting appearance, and Yoongi can now see where Taehyung received his beautiful features from– the sharp nose, fiery eyes, slanted elegant eyebrows. 

Yoongi immediately straightens when she turns to look at him.

“Set him straight once in a while, will you?” She says, her voice is teasing but even so Yoongi is fairly intimidated. “It ought to be good for him.” 

She casts a meaningful look at her son. “Be good to your mate, I thought I raised you better than that.”

It’s like a whiplash, to see Taehyung’s demeanour change so suddenly from arrogant and cocky to downright pouting. “Whose side are you on, again?” He grumbles.

The queen chuckles lightly. “There are no sides, you stupid boy. You are mates, you’re on the same side.” Despite her light tone, there’s a weight to her words as she takes turns to look at each one of them meaningfully.

The queen leaves them to take her own seat at the table, but something about her words lingers in the air. Yoongi meets Taehyung’s eyes and there’s an unspoken tension between them, settling heavily in their bodies.

The attention is thankfully averted by the arrival of the two clan Kings. Everyone at the table rises to greet them.

“For the blessed couple!” The Alpha King announces and raises his drink and everyone at the table save for the two of them lifts their glasses in the air. “Let us drink to them!”

 

 

 

The celebration starts with an array of instruments playing a lively beat. Drinks are served, all of them are foreign to Yoongi but he eventually arbitrarily picks a yellow drink and finds himself enjoying its sweet taste.

There are performances of all kinds, and traditional dances Yoongi’s never had the opportunity to witness. They’re different from the ones in his kingdom, more vibrant and lively, the performers wear ornamented embroidered garments and jewellery that jingles as they spin. It’s mesmerising and Yoongi soon loses himself to the festivities, deaf to the conversations flying around him.

Sometime during the night, Yoongi shivers, goosebumps rising on his bare chest, having forgotten his state of undress. He’s startled when a sudden warmth envelops him in the form of a familiar red robe. Yoongi twists to his right to see Taehyung’s hands on him as he drapes the cloth across Yoongi’s chest.

“You could’ve asked for something warm.” Taehyung says, now dressed in a simpler black hanbok.

Yoongi’s cheeks flush with color. He lowers his gaze and stares at his hands on his lap, mumbles a quiet thank you . He misses the small smile that briefly graces Taehyung’s face.

Yoongi turns around to resume watching a play being enacted, one of a blind warrior’s battles, but he can’t seem to shake off the presence of his mate pressed beside him, their thighs touching and hands entwined. Heat blooms behind his cheeks as he becomes hyperaware of everywhere their skins touch, tingles spreading across his entire body.

The remainder of the night continues with more festivities, young men performing stunts around a large bonfire, a woman singing in foreign tongues and several puppet shadow dances. Food is brought to them repeatedly, all varieties of delicacies that Yoongi’s never eaten before. Taehyung occasionally points at a few for Yoongi to try but Yoongi politely declines, his stomach is gradually twisting into itself as the night progresses. The events of the day had distracted him previously, but now as the dark grows more obscure, and the bond between him and the alpha pulsates in his entire body, Yoongi is reminded of what is to come.

Several officials approach them with gifts. Taehyung smiles at them and introduces them to Yoongi but after a point, Yoongi stops trying to memorise their names. He sips at the one drink he has taken a liking to as Taehyung makes conversation with different army generals. Ordinarily Yoongi would be more alert, more keen on learning about the new kingdom and its traditions, but the looming apprehension keeps him sipping at his sweet drink.

Yoongi knows what awaits them, the final ceremony that will close the marriage. He’s not naive but his nerves betray him nonetheless. His fingers tremble, shaking the colourful liquid in its glass. Yoongi brings it to his lips and takes another mouthful of the drink, keeping up the composed exterior as Taehyung laughs with the guests. 

He knows that he holds close to no power from this point forward, the alpha prince could do what he desired to Yoongi’s body and in this foreign land, Yoongi is helpless. But that is his duty, Yoongi grits his teeth as a furious heat blooms behind his lashes, he may not like it but this is his duty to his kingdom. To be taken from behind and bred like a bitch, to carry a child and then be ignored in favour of a younger concubine, thrown away when he’s served his purpose– a sacrifice for the good of the country, so that no more lives are lost in this futile war, it is a noble life, dirty and degrading as it may be. Yoongi drinks some more when his hands begin to tremor noticeably.

“Is this boring you?” Taehyung eventually asks when Yoongi’s been silent for over an hour. He leans a little in Yoongi’s space to be heard over the music and Yoongi is suddenly fascinated by the slight reveal of the alpha’s chest– the garment hanging low enough to reveal a strip of tan unmarked skin.

The drink must’ve contained more alcohol than Yoongi anticipated, his head spins faintly and a different kind of heat bursts in his stomach. Yoongi tips to the right, smile lopsided, feeling lighter than he's felt all night.

“No, you’re quite refreshing to the eyes, your Highness.” He slurs slightly.

Taehyung’s eyes widen, and then snap to the glass in Yoongi’s hand. He pulls the drink from his loose grip and inspects the contents.

“It's an aphrodisiac.” He curses under his breath, then snaps his eyes up to look at Yoongi. "How much did you drink?” He asks, voice firm.

Yoongi shrinks under the tone, he looks away from Taehyung’s sharp gaze, suddenly feeling cold even under the wraps of Taehyung’s robes. 

Taehyung sighs, he places the drink on the table and away from Yoongi’s reach. His voice turns softer as he crouches in front of Yoongi. “Come, let’s retire for the night.”

Yoongi’s thighs immediately close into themselves at the suggestion, and his throat dries when he meets his mate's eyes, feeling all too breathless as the helplessness begins to choke him, reminding him what lies in wait for him.

“You can’t order me around.” He snaps but his words sound weak even to him. 

He feels powerless, angry tears in his eyes, he never wanted this, he didn’t ask to be married, at least not like this– in this strange faraway land with this strange faraway man. Yoongi knows how he must appear, eyes watery, body trembling and shrinking into itself. But he clenches his fists and glares at his mate anyway.

Taehyung’s lips pull into a tight line, and he wraps his fingers around Yoongi’s forearm, decisively tugging him forward. Taken by surprise, Yoongi is bonelessly pulled in– their faces are suddenly too close. Yoongi’s lips part on instinct.

“Look at me.” Taehyung says, voice low and commanding, his dark eyes boring into Yoongi's. But a moment later, like he’s had a sudden realisation, Taehyung's eyes widen and he speaks again, surprise colouring his voice. “You’re nervous.” 

Yoongi doesn’t reply, his eyes dart away– the action enough of an answer.

There’s a pause, and Taehyung’s voice is gentler when he speaks again. “Come, let’s go back. You’ll fall ill at this rate.”

Yoongi doesn’t have the strength to refute, the alcohol’s effects finally presenting themselves. His vision tilts to the right and Yoongi weakly pushes Taehyung away.

“Don’t touch me.” He snaps, cheeks flushed.

Taehyung draws away and stands upright. He offers his hand to Yoongi but Yoongi swats it away, feeling petty and wanting to be difficult. He pulls himself to stand upright, but loses his balance and would've fallen to the floor if not for Taehyung’s hand closing around his elbow, steadying him.

He watches Taehyung gesture at one of the servants and soon enough they’re both moving towards a carriage pulled for them. A few of the guests try to approach them when they see them departing but Taehyung waves them away.

Taehyung’s just about carrying his weight by the time they reach the carriage. Yoongi’s last shreds of pride only just keep him from collapsing against Taehyung’s shoulders once they're inside the vehicle. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to breathe on count and contain the swelling heat in his stomach making him oversensitive to every touch and smell.

He swims in Taehyung’s scent in the closed coach, gasps when the carriage jumps at the bumps in the road. The sensation of the fabric of his dress sliding up his skin is overwhelming. He faintly catches some of Taehyung’s whispered words of comfort, his hand squeezing Yoongi’s.

“We’ve reached.” Taehyung whispers once the car comes to a sharp halt. Yoongi briefly lifts his eyes open and lets himself be pulled out of the carriage. Taehyung dismisses the servants and more or less drags Yoongi through the palace hallways. Yoongi doesn’t think, just lets himself be pressed against Taehyung’s body. The bond sings at the physical contact and Yoongi sighs, softens, buries his nose against Taehyung’s neck.

There’s an audible groan from the alpha, and Yoongi’s omega sings at the reaction. His body melts at the scent infiltrating his nose and a soft whine rises out of his throat unbidden. He feels Taehyung’s body tense at the sound but his thoughts are evasive, swimming out from under his fingers before he can catch them. 

Taehyung wraps a strong hand around him to walk them properly to Taehyung’s bedchambers. There are words, Taehyung ordering the guards outside his chambers to leave, and the authority in his voice has Yoongi’s thighs clenching.

Once inside, Taehyung sharply twists them around and pushes Yoongi against the door. Yoongi whines at the loss of contact, but Taehyung firmly pins him away.

“You’re drunk.” He says, voice flat.

“How does it matter?” Yoongi counters, he tries to focus on the alpha through the haze clouding his mind. The nerves are returning, he feels his cheeks burn as Taehyung watches him with narrow eyes, his bangs low and long enough to hang in front of his eyes– a predator, and Yoongi feels small. “You’re going to take me anyway.” 

Taehyung’s expression tightens. “Do you hate it so much?”

His question surprises Yoongi, stilting his thought process. “Why are you asking me this?” He asks bitterly, looking away. “Like I have a choice in the matter.”

Taehyung makes an exasperated sound, releasing Yoongi and taking a step back. “You are so– why are you always so difficult?”

Taehyung’s words sting, and Yoongi curls into himself, presses himself against the door. He knows that he doesn't possess the most desirable omega qualities, he’s never aspired to have them either, and as reluctant as he may have been to be mated to him, he can’t help but feel the alpha’s aggravation pierce through his chest like knives.

They stand in the thick uncomfortable silence and Yoongi tries to swallow the heat blooming behind his eyes. 

He startles when Taehyung steps closer, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, surprising Yoongi, “but I don’t understand why you keep fighting me.”

His words feel genuine, and Yoongi shrinks into himself even further. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, so soft that he wonders if Taehyung even heard him, and then in a meek admission, “I just– I don’t know how to do this.”

Taehyung blinks and it takes him a moment to understand the meaning behind Yoongi’s words.

“You mean– you’ve never–”

Hot humiliation has him turning away, Yoongi tries to hide but Taehyung’s fingers under his chin force him to meet his eyes. “I apologise if I offended you, I’m simply surprised. The way you always carry yourself, you seem so self-assured, I just assumed– I’m sorry.” He repeats and then in an affectionate manner, grazes his knuckles against Yoongi’s cheek.

Taehyung surprises Yoongi with his next words, they’re slow like Taehyung is picking them carefully. “You know, if the arrangement displeased you to such a great extent, why did you offer yourself on the battlefield that day?”

Yoongi’s body flinches at the reminder of the day that began it all, the battlefield littered with bloody corpses, the numbers in-proportionately tilted in the alphas’ favour, their tents flooding with more injuries than they could treat, the earth under their feet poisoned with war and cruelty and death. It was that day that the outcome of the war loomed in front of them– a horrific nightmare that they were escalating towards.

Something had to be done, a sacrifice needed to be made. 

From the very beginning, it was Yoongi, his little brother had tried to volunteer himself but Yoongi had quickly dismissed the idea. He’d rather succumb himself to death's cruel grip than allow his brother to go through a fate worse than death.

The deal was made in secrecy, no one apart from a chosen few knew of Yoongi’s actions. And at sunset, Yoongi and his father rode into the Alpha territory to make an offer– one of peace, as they disguised it. And Yoongi had taken it all, had carried his clan’s hatred for him in his heart– a traitor, they called him, a coward, a bitch. Yoongi took it all, and he’s asked why.

“It was my duty.” Yoongi answers, meeting Taehyung’s eyes with his own. Taehyung’s expression is unreadable. The pads of his fingers trace Yoongi’s throat, a light fleeting touch, and Yoongi inhales sharply. Taehyung’s fingers are calloused no doubt from the numerous battles, it serves to remind him that his mate is known not for kindness or gentleness, but callousness and ferocity.

Taehyung closes the distance between them with another step, his scent heavy around them like a thick canopy and Yoongi cannot resurface.

“What about now?” The alpha leans closer, his lips brushing against Yoongi’s throat, tantalizingly close to his scent gland. “Is this your duty too?” 

He presses their bodies together, hard lines against one another. Yoongi barely swallows the moan that threatens to leave his lips. Taehyung obviously smells the arousal off him. He does it again, pushes Yoongi against the door and thrusts their hips together.

Yoongi’s breathy gasp betrays him.

Taehyung’s fingers come to push his robes off his shoulders and the garment falls to the floor leaving Yoongi’s painted chest naked between them. Taehyung doesn’t touch him, simply looks at him in a way that leaves Yoongi breathless.

“Answer me.” Taehyung demands, his voice low and authoritative.

Yoongi’s body shudders but his pride has him lifting his chin up.

“Yes it is my duty, there’s nothing more to it.” He whispers, surprised to see amusement flicker in Taehyung’s eyes, clearly not believing him.

“I see.” Taehyung replies simply before bending down and kissing his throat, open-mouthed and wet, tongue flicking against his skin right where the mating bite goes. Yoongi shivers, his arms instinctively come to wrap around Taehyung’s neck, a whimper escaping his lips. Taehyung’s hand drops to his waist, gripping him right and pulling him closer. The contact makes him ache and Yoongi feels his body arch in Taehyung’s hold.

Taehyung sucks at his skin relentlessly and Yoongi’s mouth parts on instinct. His knees tremble under him, threatening to give away. Taehyung must notice for he detaches himself from Yoongi’s neck and pulls at the ties binding their wrists. He yanks at them and they immediately break, putting up no resistance.

The red string falls to the floor and Taehyung loops an arm around Yoongi’s knees, effortlessly picking him up in his arms. Mortification burns his cheeks, Yoongi weakly protests but Taehyung is deaf to his struggles and simply carries him to the giant bed in the middle of his room.

He’s dropped on the soft mattress and when he notices that Taehyung doesn’t follow him, Yoongi looks up to find the alpha ridding himself of his own robes. The sight of his golden skin makes Yoongi’s throat go dry, because while Yoongi’s skin is unmarked, Taehyung’s chest is littered with numerous scars of battle.

The alpha joins him on the bed, naked save for his pants. The sight of him hovering over Yoongi’s body shoots heated pleasure between his legs. He feels excessively hot, a little dizzy, and his heart pounds loud in his chest when he studies how Taehyung’s frame is so much bigger than his own, it almost engulfs him. The knowledge both scares and arouses him. In the confines of the room, Taehyung holds all power over him. The shadows cast by the oil lamps on the nightstand make his features look sharper, his shoulders broader, his presence so much bigger.

Taehyung’s hand comes to cup his cheek, the gesture so in contrast with his previous actions that it throws Yoongi off. His emotions must show on his face because Taehyung gently tilts his head up.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks, eyebrows knitted in concern, the emotion at odds with their positions.

“I’m fine.” Yoongi looks away, stomach in knots, the night is a jarring juxtaposition with what he’d anticipated. He’d expected to feel pain, to be intruded without thought or care, to be taken once, twice, multiple times till the alpha was satisfied, he hadn't– he hadn't expected this . And now he’s caught unaware in the throes of his own foreign pleasures.

Taehyung doesn’t look convinced, his fingers stroke at Yoongi’s cheek, his face solemn like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

“You’re too tense.” He speaks after a pause, fingers sliding down his face to his chest, tracing the skin lightly. Yoongi tries to relax but his body bucks up in surprise when Taehyung’s fingers brush against his nipple. His mouth parts open but no sound comes out.

Amused at his sensitive reaction, Taehyung presses his thumb against the nipple again, this time firm and deliberate. A moan tears from Yoongi’s throat, unbidden and loud. The sound is high-pitched and Yoongi immediately brings his hand to his mouth out of humiliation, and claps it shut.

“Don’t.” Taehyung’s voice breaks through his haze. He pulls Yoongi’s hand away from his mouth. “It’s okay for it to feel good, even if it may be your duty.” 

He pushes his hand against the soft sheets and threads their fingers together as his mouth descends upon his other nipple. He kisses it, flicks his tongue against the bud and Yoongi jerks, arches off the bed into him. The pleasure is too intense, he’s never felt this sensitive and vulnerable.

Taehyung doesn’t stop, his lips close around the hardened bud as he sucks, and Yoongi’s body thrashes underneath. Taehyung’s hand comes to pin his wrists above him, the other holding his hips down. Yoongi can’t bring himself to speak as his body writhes with pleasure. He feels a wetness slide out from underneath him and embarrassingly identifies it as his slick.

Taehyung finally nips at it one last time before releasing the reddened nipple. His mouth moves down to his stomach, kissing and sucking at the expanse of skin as he goes, leaving red marks on Yoongi’s otherwise pale skin. He drags his teeth along the hipbone, deeper into the lines of his pelvis, and Yoongi pants as Taehyung leaves little bites in a line along the skin above his underskirt.

Yoongi is confused when Taehyung suddenly pulls away, his mind too delirious from the pleasure, it takes him a few seconds to understand Taehyung’s heavy questioning gaze on him. He’s asking for permission, Yoongi belatedly realises and silently nods in response.

Taehyung releases his wrists and makes quick work of untying Yoongi’s skirt from around his waist, pulling the garment down his legs in one swift tug. Yoongi closes his legs in embarrassment, feeling vulnerable under Taehyung’s dusky gaze. 

His state of undress clears his head of the pleasure and the effects of the aphrodisiac. Humiliation seeps in through his pores and Yoongi twists his head to the side, no longer able to take in the sight of the alpha above him– ready to take him and seal their wedding rites.

Taehyung reaches between his legs, gently prying them apart and Yoongi follows, for resistance at this point of time is futile. Taehyung settles between his legs, and Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut when one of Taehyung’s fingers penetrates him. The intrusion feels foreign but Yoongi’s body laps it up, accommodates and stretches around it. The slick makes the slide easier as Taehyung’s finger stretches him out, spreading his juices around him.

Yoongi tries to keep his breaths even as Taehyung adds another finger, deliberate, unhurried, and Yoongi’s body slowly opens up for the alpha. The entire process is all parts humiliating, being bared open in such an intimate manner, and infuriating because Taehyung takes his time stretching him open and Yoongi just wants him to get done with it.

He’s squeezed his eyes shut and resolutely averted his face from where the alpha continues his ministrations, that the sudden intrusion of something wet jolts him by surprise. Yoongi snaps his eyes open and gasps when he sees Taehyung’s head between his legs.

“You ah– ” His words are cut off by a whimper that escapes his lips unbidden as Taehyung’s tongue comes to lick at his walls again. Yoongi fists his fingers into the sheets, unable to comprehend the sensations running up his spine. He’d known how fucking usually takes place, but he’s never heard of this. It feels so dirty but it has him whimpering softly, and Yoongi presses his lips tight to keep the noises from escaping.

He knew he’d be at the alpha’s mercy but to be defiled like this– Taehyung lets out a pleased hum when Yoongi accidentally lets out a loud sob. Taehyung spreads his legs wider, his thumbs opening Yoongi’s entrance wider as he mouths at his hole again, licking deeper and Yoongi’s body betrays him by responding and producing more slick. His cock stands erect, evidence enough.

Taehyung inserts a finger alongside his tongue, crooking it and pushing against Yoongi’s walls. He massages him until there’s a moment when his finger pushes deeper and Yoongi’s body clenches around it in pleasure. His thighs quiver, body overly sensitive, but Taehyung carries on, relentlessly pushing against the very spot and effectively reducing Yoongi to a shuddering and trembling mess under him.

It feels ridiculous, he’s heard of alphas chasing their own pleasure, viciously holding their mates down by the hair and taking them from behind, getting their fill for the night. For Taehyung to pleasure him like this– it doesn’t make sense.

He doesn’t have the time or the sense to contemplate the alpha’s intentions for Taehyung is resurfacing from between Yoongi’s legs. He raises his head, eyes meeting Yoongi’s and mouth parting in a coquettish grin as he laps up what’s left of Yoongi’s slick on his lips. 

“Were my services to your satisfaction, your Highness?” He asks, teasing.

Yoongi stares at him, breathless, eyes lidded. “I wouldn’t know, seeing I haven’t yet been satisfied.”

There is a momentary pause before Taehyung lets out a sharp, surprised sort of laugh. “I didn’t know you were capable of jesting.”

Yoongi averts his eyes, the atmosphere feels lighter than before, like their arrangement and their duties to their clans aren’t hanging over them like trembling icicles. It almost feels like they are lovers bantering, and a glance at the alpha makes Yoongi feverishly wonder what it’d be like to be with Taehyung as his lover instead of whatever manufactured arrangement it is that they have. 

Yoongi is pulled from his thoughts when he catches sight of Taehyung undoing his pants. The air suddenly stills, and a thick silence seeps into the room through the cracks in the walls. Yoongi takes in a shaky inhale, he feels his chest constrict. This is the vital segment of their act, this is what is required and expected.

Yoongi keeps himself from looking long enough and when he finally does, his eyes widen at the size of Taehyung’s endowment. Alphas are born with thicker penises, he’s aware of the fact. Yoongi hasn’t had to see one other than his own but Taehyung’s cock outmatches his own in every aspect, and to think it’ll further expand in size when Taehyung knots him.

Taehyung takes hold of Yoongi’s knees, lifting them to position himself better against Yoongi’s entrance.

“Is this alright?” Taehyung asks, his voice carrying none of the teasing it previously did.

Yoongi swallows the anxiety that winds up his throat and averts his eyes. “Just– finish it.” He whispers. He cannot make out what expression Taehyung bears, but when Taehyung makes no effort to move, Yoongi glances back at him. The alpha is watching him with a disapproving frown.

“Are you sure that is what you want?” He asks, and Yoongi grits his teeth, surely Taehyung understands that Yoongi has close to no choice in this matter.

“It’s not of matter what I desire, but what is right.” Yoongi speaks.

Taehyung stares at him for a long moment before he finally replies, “if that is what you see fit.” There’s something flat in his voice, but Taehyung doesn’t give him much time to ponder. He shifts again, the tip of his cock coming to press against Yoongi’s entrance.

With one swift push Taehyung is inside of him, and Yoongi's mouth falls open in a silent gasp, if the previous sensation was overwhelming, this feels almost tenfolds of it. 

Taehyung’s cock is big inside him, stretching his body even wider than his fingers did. For a moment Taehyung remains still as Yoongi adjusts to the sensation and when the burn subsides, he scrunches his eyes shut and gives a brief nod of acquiesce. Taehyung exhales and begins to move cautiously. Yoongi looks up to see his brows furrowed in concentration, muscles taut with strain as his arms hold Yoongi’s legs up and his hips move to push deeper inside him.

His body slowly gives way to his mate like Yoongi himself never did, it grows wetter and more pliant as it adjusts to the stretch, accommodating Taehyung's girth inside him. Taehyung pushes deeper with each thrust, his hips meeting Yoongi’s when he pushes all the way in, and it feels like nothing Yoongi’s ever felt before. It’s full and pulsating, a dull ache that bleeds into something more pleasurable. 

Somewhere between them, Yoongi feels the bond between them settle like it’s finally sated.

Taehyung’s breaths match his own, loud in the silence, and Yoongi meets the alpha's gaze with his own eyes half-slitted with pleasure.

"Are you alright?" Taehyung breathes, dispelling the quiet between them. Yoongi's lips part in a silent plea. 

His chest trembles, and a heat throbs between his legs, then spreads all the way to his toes. He is close to release, and Yoongi winds his arms around Taehyung’s broad back.

“Move,” he whimpers, legs coming to lock around Taehyung’s waist, wetness trailing down from between his swell, “please” he adds. 

The words have Taehyung stilling before he draws back an inch and snaps his hips into Yoongi in a way that has Yoongi choking out a gasp.

He fucks into him again and Yoongi quivers like a leaf. His body yields with each thrust and Taehyung begins to fuck into him harder. The previous burn blooms into dull aching pleasure like a sweet bruise each time Taehyung’s length breaches him, and Yoongi feels the betrayal of his body as a stray tear rolls down his face. His mind wants to resist the drag of the pleasure but his body crumbles and his thighs tremble with the effort to keep himself still. He struggles to accept that he could move from resentment to enjoyment in a matter of minutes, but above him Taehyung doesn't stop moving. And Yoongi can't quite contain the little mewls that escape his lips.

Taehyung raises his legs higher, drawing himself closer, and fucks him at a different angle, closer and deeper. It takes Yoongi by surprise, his lips part instinctively as Taehyung’s cock pushes deeper and hits him at a spot that has Yoongi curling into the alpha. The new position brings their faces closer and Yoongi meets Taehyung's intense gaze, their mouths barely an inch apart that Yoongi breathes in Taehyung's exhales. It feels significantly more intimate. 

Neither of them look away as Taehyung fucks him, the drag of his cock seizing Yoongi’s body up with pleasure. It feels so good, Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with himself as Taehyung continues to pound on top of him as he pleases. He holds on to Taehyung’s back, digs nails into his flesh. After all of Taehyung’s earlier ministrations having brought him close to the edge, Yoongi’s body shudders as the pleasure builds inside him to an insurmountable level. 

It doesn’t take long before he arches into Taehyung’s chest, fingers sliding up into his hair as he locks up and tenses, clenching around Taehyung and coming with a gasp.

Taehyung adjusts himself when Yoongi collapses beneath him, panting and limp, his skin glistening with sweat, and starts to fuck into him harder than before. His thrusts are no longer controlled as he chases his own relief, hips snapping into Yoongi who’s all too pliant under him. Yoongi’s body jerks with the force of his thrusts, and Taehyung bends over, caging him as he presses their chests together and pants into his neck.

Yoongi’s skin tingles, all too aware as Taehyung licks at the base of his throat. The alpha grabs a fistful of his hair, tilting his head to the side and Yoongi bares his neck to him in submission.

For a long moment it’s only Taehyung’s hot breaths against his skin, but then come the teeth. 

Yoongi whimpers as Taehyung marks him with his bite. Their bond blooms like a flower in waiting. Taehyung’s hips snap into him one last time and Yoongi cries from the mix of pain and pleasure. He feels Taehyung lick at the bite to ease the pain flaring underneath the marred skin, and Yoongi sobs when Taehyung finally comes– spasming into Yoongi’s body with a curse.

Taehyung gives the wound one last lick, and the pain gradually soothes into a dull ache. Yoongi whines when Taehyung lifts himself off of him, and the alpha bends over and presses a quick kiss against the mating bite in apology. He gently lowers Yoongi's legs onto the bed, and Yoongi has to dig his nails into the sheets to keep himself from pulling Taehyung back in, his cheeks burn, his body craves his mate's presence even when they're essentially strangers.

Yoongi feels the cum drip down his hole when Taehyung slowly pulls out from inside him. The sensation of being empty after so long is strange and disorienting. 

Taehyung sits upright, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead and Yoongi watches him get off the bed, confused until the alpha returns with a wet cloth. It’s strange, the cold touch feels almost foreign against his heated skin as Taehyung cleans the juices off his body.

The mating bite stings as it sits on Yoongi’s throat, it was what was required of them, the physical bond between them and the claim that Yoongi now belonged to Taehyung in every way. It was all that was expected of them, it was all Yoongi expected from his alpha, yet–

Taehyung returns to the bed, a tense silence encompasses them. Yoongi doesn’t know what Taehyung expects from him now, surely they won’t go at it again, Yoongi doesn't know if his body can take more. The alpha, however, simply lies down on the bed beside Yoongi and Yoongi automatically retreats a little further to widen the distance between them without thinking. Taehyung obviously notices it but he doesn’t comment.

“We have a long day ahead of us, we should sleep.” He says instead and Yoongi nods mutely. 

Taehyung extinguishes the lamp on the nightstand and Yoongi rolls away from the alpha, pulling the blankets over himself to cover his nudity which is futile at this point in time.

“Good night.” Taehyung speaks into the dark but the words aren’t returned. Yoongi lets him think he’s fallen asleep but his eyes stay wide open even as Taehyung’s breaths even out.

Sleep doesn’t come to him despite his body being worn to death. Sometime in the middle of the night, he wonders when his body started to feel so empty.

Serve your clan, they told him. Omegas must first make space for their alpha and child inside their body, they said, and then occupy what space is left over. 

Yoongi reckons there isn’t much of anything left in his body.