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He thought he would grow used to having Yona at his side, desensitized to the low pull of her, the warmth, the longing that pulsed quietly in his blood. All things could be tamed, he thought, and the rise of yearning that ached in every nerve and bone was no different. He could learn to ignore those brilliant smiles and pretty eyes. He could dull the spike of heat that stirred when delicate fingers twisted around his wrist. He could figure out how to stop the traitorous pound of his pulse when conviction and fire burned in her eyes.
Hak thought he could learn to handle it, he truly did. But if Yona taught him anything in her determination, nocking arrows on a bowstring until her fingers split and bled, raw, and in her defiance, hacking off her glossy ringlets with the blade of a stolen sword, severing her last connection—the hairpin—to a boy she had loved too deeply, it was that there were rarities that glittered like diamond in the sun, untamable and untouchable. As it turned out, his own desires, aching and too strong, were as much one of those rarities as the girl they belonged too. He just couldn’t snuff out the flames that ignited, that roiled in his stomach and licked up into his lungs.
But, damn it all if he didn’t try his hardest to.
Over years, painstaking years, he learned to hide, to tuck his heart into his pocket rather than wearing it loose on his sleeve. Because Yona didn’t need to know. She couldn’t know. And if he couldn’t crush down the yearning, the heartrending longing, he would hide every sign he could. Blushes turned muted and controlled, and a sharp breath in, a long breath out, slowed the race of his heart. Grit teeth suppressed impulsive words and telling noises. A clenched fist helped him reign in the urges to touch pale skin, to sweep stray curls from her face. Since he couldn’t dull the emotions, he learned the tricks to hide them.
Truly, Hak considered himself lucky that Yona had a tendency towards naivety, towards innocence and ignorance, because it was a long time before she began to notice. Not long enough, of course, but it bought him years of an unchanging relationship, a loyal guard and his precious princess. Only, with every day she grew stronger, more determined and more aware, his defenses cracked and crumbled a little more. It actually scared him, sometimes, when the night held too dark and too long, the way he lost his careful control. One day he would do something irreversible, if things kept on the way they were. Yona was no longer the sheltered princess he once watched over, and she saw his slips, felt things all her own. And her reactions, flustering, blushing, fractured his resolve even farther.
He couldn’t resist those wide, expressive eyes, no longer so naive but still sensitive and girlish. He couldn’t resist the pink that rose to her cheeks, and the way it had heat rippling just beneath his own skin. And worse, he couldn’t hide so well anymore. He gave in to the urges. He touched her. He pulled her to his chest and breathed in the scent of mountain air and delicate florals that clung to her, intoxicated. Only with the last chains of resolve did he keep from kissing her, claiming her, baring all that longing and aching to her. Those desires, he kept locked up as tightly as he could, but it was still just a matter of time before the chains snapped and gave way. He was losing control, he knew.
—————
She wasn’t the same person she was on her sixteenth birthday anymore, that princess who was blind to the world, Hak reminded himself.
The dragons had already fallen asleep, and only he and Yona remained at the dwindling fire. Even as the heat of the flames waned, giving way to the chill of the night, he watched the colors dance in her eyes. They flickered from a pale yellow to the deepest crimson then back, masking the calm settled in her eyes. It was beautiful, though, and Hak drunk it in without the prying eyes of any number of their traveling companions to ruin it for him. That familiar thrumming in his blood was back, and when she caught his gaze, smiling a gentle, sleepy smile, he wanted to reach across the gap and take her jaw in his hands, brush his thumbs over the perfect pale skin there. He settled for warming his hands by the fire instead, though the heat of the flames was a poor substitute for the gentle warmth of a human touch.
Then, Yona stood and he thought that was it. He’d stay up too long, mulling over things he shouldn’t think of, things that involved him, involved Yona and wondering hands, while she went off to sleep. Hak raked a hand back through his hair, the beginnings of frustration and something like loneliness ebbing over him. But she didn’t retreat away like he thought she would. Instead, she came to his side, sitting so her knee brushed his own. His hand twitched; it itched with the urge to settle on her leg and brush against the soft fabric of her robes, and only if he allowed his mind to wander somewhere darker, to bury underneath them. Her skin was softer, he imagined.
Instead, his fingers curled into his leg, trying to hide the subtle twitch. “Princess,” Hak said, taking care to steady and steel his voice, “you should get some rest.” You should leave me alone before I want to do something inappropriate, he wanted to say, but the words stayed heavy on his tongue, bitten back.
She merely tilted her head, smiled. It was so sweet it burned, and Hak felt it melting into his heart. “I’d rather stay up with you a little longer,” she hummed, considering.
This was Yona at her sweetest. Kind, warm, sedate. But it was dangerous, too, because the calm was inviting. Fiery and fierce, Yona earned nothing but respect from Hak, and her conviction impressed him every time it rose to the surface. But this Yona was soft and preyed on his every craving for intimacy and touch. She made him weak.
“Get some sleep,” he said, rougher, more gravelly this time. Allowing himself an indulgence, he ruffled his hand through her hair, leaving ringlets sticking out funny angles. And, gently, he pushed her head forward, nudging her away.
Yona didn’t take the hint, though, only puffing her cheeks in a pout, bottom lip jutting out. “I said I want to stay with you,” she protested stubbornly. And if to prove she wasn’t going anywhere, she snatched his arm, holding it close to her chest.
What an inopportune moment for her to get headstrong. Still, her words sunk in and set a dizzy haze in his head. “Don’t say that,” he huffed, letting the arm in her grip go limp. He couldn’t ever fight her—not really.
She looked like she was going to complain for a moment, her mouth falling open, brows furrowed. But she didn’t, only pursed her lips and looked hard at him like she was considering something. Then, she did something he never in his most desperate dreams would have imagined. She leaned in close, lashes fluttering to fall against pale cheeks, and kissed him. It wasn’t a mere chaste press of lips either; she lingered, softened her mouth in invitation, and brought her hands to grip at his jaw. For just the barest of moments, Hak found himself giving into the longing, kissing her back, reaching out to hold her shoulders. It was everything.
But when Hak’s brain finally started working again and realized that Yona was really, truly kissing him, he knew he couldn’t allow it. If he did, if he let himself linger in that warmth, that tenderness, the tempting pull of her, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He pushed her back by the shoulders, breathing just a little harder. Even then, he could still feel the pleasant echo of her lips against his, and it hurt, somewhere deep inside, that he’d stopped her. And what bothered him most was it wasn’t just about touch, about physical intimacy, because in that moment, he fooled himself into feeling loved. But he was a tool, a guard, and she was a princess. She wasn’t meant to love him.
“What’s gotten into you?” he questioned, rough, hair falling to partially hide his gaze. His chest felt like it was burning, hot and angry. Hands falling away from her shoulders, Hak clenched them in the dirt at his sides. Adrenaline threaded into his veins, and he suddenly felt restless, keyed up, staring back at a startled, speechless Yona. He wanted to lash out, not at her—never at her—but at something, because all the emotions he was supposed to feel, and the ones he told himself not to, tangled together in his chest, and he didn’t know how to contain it all.
“I-I just...” Yona started, wide eyed. Though, she only gingerly wiped her lips on the back of her hand, seeming just as surprised as he was about the whole moment. “I don’t know,” she finally said, still grasping for words.
But before Hak could even beginning to figure what that meant, or ask her himself, she was on her feet, and even in the firelight the pink rising to her cheeks was clear. Hurriedly, she stammered out a goodnight before rushing to the tent she shared with Yun and crawling inside. Hak could hardly blink before it was all over, and he was left sitting by a dying fire, alone.
——————
He was supposed to be guarding her. It was his duty, after all, to keep her safe. So when they found an inn to stay for the night, one where Yona could have a little privacy and a room to herself, it had set Hak on edge. Out in the mountains, there was always someone on watch, just outside the tent where Yona slept. But inside the inn, that wouldn’t be the case, and he didn’t like it. When he told Yona as much, she merely huffed and smoothed a hand over her bow, assuring him she could take care of herself. Though, after a great deal of arguing, she relented to let him in at dusk to keep watch as she slept. And though he wasn’t overly pleased at having to leave her unguarded for the rest of the day, it was a compromise he could agree on.
Still, now that twilight had turned to inky night sky, Hak was supposed to be guarding her. He had been trying to, trying his hardest, and yet, when Yona decided she wanted something, all fiery eyed, she was a force to be reckoned with. And apparently, she had decided she wanted him, because he had wound up underneath her in bed, messy haired, clothes starting to slip and open, with her mouth eagerly exploring his.
“Princess,” he groaned against the corner of her lips, holding tight to whatever clarity he had left. It was fading fast, with the warm, dizzied haze filling him up with every affection Yona showed him. “We can’t,” he added, breathless. Really, it wasn’t a matter of can’t so much as shouldn’t, but he wouldn’t allow her that lenience, or she would have him reduced to putty in her hands. Still, every beat of his heart warred, one desperately wanting the girl he had always fought his love for, the next still clinging to that fight yet.
“Call me by my name,” she insisted, hands finding purchase at the base of his skull, pulling him just that little bit closer.
Hak couldn’t fight the shudder that ran through him at the touch, melting beneath the gentle circles she started to rub into the tense muscle there. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat, with how good it felt, and he only wanted to collapse into Yona, let her make him feel known, feel loved, and allow him the privilege of doing twice as much in return. Then, through the haze of it, he actually heard her giggle, light and clear and ringing in his ear like a beacon. She was enjoying this too much.
Still, he obliged her. “Yona,” he said, the word low and gravelly, rumbling in his chest. He sighed it out like praise against the side of her jaw. If she wanted to hear her name, she would hear it, and she would hear every ounce of want he could pour into it.
In an instant, her pretty laugh died, turning to a sharp intake of breath. Her pupils were blown wide when Hak glanced up, haloed by a ring of violet, and a rosy blush had risen up to paint her cheeks. And that beautiful, radiant glimpse was all she allowed before she ducked her head, tugging fabric out of her way to mouth at his collarbone then lower, lower. With every press of her lips, every sweep of her tongue, every testing nip of her teeth, Hak gave in more and more. He wanted to abandon the guilt, and the sure, insistent way Yona moved, like she thought he was worthy of everything, loosened its hold on him.
She had never looked more captivating, he thought, fabric sliding down her shoulders, curls wild and framing her face just right. Still, he wanted to push her away, to wrap those slight, bare shoulders in a blanket and walk away while he could still cling to some kind of innocence in all of this. No, he wanted to want to push her away. But, when her hands slid from his neck down over the plane of his chest, mapping every rise and groove, those thoughts were sent scattering. Instead, his body moved on its own accord, traitorous, and shifted beneath her, pulled closer to her.
In a whirlwind, Yona had stripped his clothes open, her mouth never leaving the spaces where she pressed fire and sparks into his skin. Hak hardly even noticed until the fabric was sliding and exposing skin, Yona’s attire joining his after another few beats of his swearing at his shaky fingers and hazy mind, trying to get the work done while Yona did her damndest to distract him, trailing her tongue all the way from his abdomen up to the hollow of his throat. Where she learned these things, he had no idea, but he was sure that she was going to be the death of him one day doing things like that.
Heat coursed out through his veins, like fire sweeping through him, and his hands finally settled at her jaw. Everywhere else, she was too soft, too pristine for his hands. Even the callouses left on her fingertips from the sharp rub of a bow string were born from such pure, genuine efforts. But the sharp angle of her jaw, that he could handle, and he pulled her back up higher to kiss her again. Her mouth was sharp too, he thought, insults and demands having flown off her lips more often than befitting of a princess. But just as frequently, she was so earnest and genuine it ached, somewhere deep down in his chest. Now, the way her mouth moved so eagerly against his, there were glimmers of both sides of her mirrored in her affections. Saccharine sweetness paired with spice and fire.
A moan rolled past her lips, light and pretty, and Hak took the chance to angle her jaw up farther, to capture her bottom lip between his teeth. He didn’t dare bite hard, but the pressure was enough to have Yona squirming beneath him, a whimper building high in her throat. Her cheeks were tinted rosy with a flush that spread to her ears, and her eyes found his, shimmering with heat. That did something incredible to him, sending molten fire rushing down his spine to pool in the pit of his stomach, thick and hot and heavy. But then she was nipping back just as quickly, catching his teeth with hers with an awful clack of bone against bone.
Yona wasted no time taking control again, moving down his body until she could kiss and suck at the skin over his hip, delicate fingers trailing high, dangerously high, over the inside of his thigh.
“Yona,” he groaned, meaning to tell her no, meaning to tell her stop. Meaning to tell her that this was her last chance to change her mind before he could never see her as just an innocent little princess anymore. Instead, his hands were burying in her hair. The curls were thick and soft, and all the other words and warnings died on his tongue. Because more than anything else, any sort of honor or purity, he wanted her.
Yona just clicked her tongue and shushed him, splaying her hands across his abdomen as she pushed herself up to catch his gaze. Her eyes were bright, glinting with the same kind of fire Hak could feel burning up his nerves just beneath the skin. She could melt him with that gaze, and he felt the beginnings of it, tension going loose and bones seeming to cave under the weight of her affection, his longing. And he couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about it. Instead, Hak just basked in the light of her eyes, the vibrant life there.
Then, every muscle in his body ran tight with carefully measured tension. Never dropping her gaze, Hak swallowed at the sudden dryness in his mouth, keenly award of where delicate fingers had slipped, following the groove of muscle down past his navel, then lower. Yet, she flitted far enough to stay as modest as this could be. Part of him knew he should be relieved, knew he should take the chance to shut this down. But, the louder voice in his head hissed that she was just teasing, riling him up. And from the pleased smile just touching her lips, he felt the latter was probably the case.
“Can I touch you?” Yona asked, sounding too naive, too innocent for such an implicitly filthy request. Yet, he could catch echoes of the determined Yona, the one who would turn hell over twice to get what she wanted. And Hak couldn’t say no to that.
“If you want,” he answered carefully, but his voice betrayed the want coursing through his veins, sinking deeper, kindling warmer.
That was all the permission she needed. Dainty hands, calloused fingertips, wrapped around his length, and even with the light touch, Hak found everything in his head going light and hazy. He sucked in a breath, feeling suffocatingly struck with it all. That Yona wanted this. Yona wanted him. And that was everything he had wanted since he first discovered puppy dog crushes years and years back.
She was stumbling, clumsy, but eager enough to make up for any of it. Pulse kicking up faster, Hak clenched a hand in the abandoned fabric of his robe pooling at his side, the other aching to reach out and search for solid flesh and bone. Instead, he dug his nails into his palm, the bite helping to clear his head just a bit. And with that clarity, all he could do was stare back at Yona, who focused solely on her work. Violet eyes were zeroed in on her hand, concentration furrowing her brows ever so slightly. Then, she shifted and Hak choked on a breath, a pant catching halfway up his throat. Because Yona just perched herself straddling his thighs, her supple skin unfathomably warm and inviting. Some noise he tried to supress worked out past his lips, kicking his lungs back into panting out breaths heavy laden with heat.
Though, Hak swore it was only an instant before her the warm, smooth hand at his length disappeared. He could have whimpered with the loss, had to fight hard enough just to keep the sifting sigh from falling past his lips. And when he broke his gaze from her eyes, all blown wide, he instead traced the path of her hand. In one practiced movement, she gathered her hair behind her shoulders and gracefully dipped her head lower. Soft lips parted, and Yona, with all her unearned confidence, took him into her mouth.
The wet heat of her sent sparking shivers up his spine, every nerve searing, burning. Hak was sure she could kill him, just then. He choked on the breath falling past his lips, clawing up a handful of fabric to keep from reaching out. Because this was for her, on her terms, no matter the cascade of molten heat pouring down through him. Unless she asked, he wouldn’t touch her, not any more than he had to. But, god, did everything in him utterly ache to. His mind, all hot and fuzzy, couldn’t think of a single thing sweeter than Yona. Lily-white skin bared to him for the first time, wild crown of fiery curls, small frame so seemingly delicate and fragile. She was beautiful, perfect, and most of all, she wanted him the way he had wanted her for too long. And, now, the tendons in his fingers, his curled toes, ached with the restraint.
With a harsh breath out, drowning in heat and desire, Hak struggled to see beyond the stars dotting his vision. The dark ceiling was scattered with light, sparks blooming in tandem with the movement’s of Yona’s mouth. Had she even stopped to breathe? Hak wondered, absently, as he swore his bones melted under the flaring heat of her. Then, the notion struck him again, burning off some of the pleasured fog in his head, and it more worrying this time. Yona was naive. Yona was clumsy. Yona was new to all this. And she was so earnest and genuine and sweet that she would endlessly put his needs before hers. Just like he had been trained to do for her. They were perfect for each other that way, too stubborn and selfless, ruined for anyone else but each other.
Blinking past the sparks swimming in his sight, Hak struggled to prop himself up on an elbow. And that was just when Yona decided to swallow him deeper, plunging him farther into the wet heat of her mouth. And he almost fell apart at that. It took all his focus to keep the arm under him from collapsing, every inch of him going weak under her ministrations. A raspy moan rolled up his throat, past his lips, and he was powerless to stop it. Though, eventually, he managed to collect himself enough to see straight again, and his gaze settled right on Yona.
Perched between his legs, bowed before him, hands steady on his hips, the picture had a whole mess of molten fire brewing in his chest, spilling low down his spine. But, what he caught next was as sobering as cold water dumped over his head. Those stunning violet eyes, all blown with desire, were misting over with tears. The usual fire there was doused, drenched, hidden behind pooling moisture. And that struck a chord so wrong in his chest that Hak, for an instant, couldn’t do anything but stare in shock and horror. Reason aside, he couldn’t stand to see her teary eyed, and something in him recoiled like a being burned, scorched. Then cold, wretched guilt slithered down his throat to coil in his stomach, pulling tight in knots and biting sharp into flesh with the fangs and vengeance of a viper.
Horrible. He was horrible.
Worse, though, was the fraction of a second, fraction of an instant, that he had looked at her tear filled eyes and registered nothing more than the haunting thought that misted eyes looked stunningly beautiful on her. And that’s where the guilt rooted from. Not only his infliction of some sort of pain on Yona, but that twisted sense in him that she was just as beautiful with watery eyes as ones filled with inferno.
Horrible.
He couldn’t breathe, then, something cold and cruel clawing into his lungs and holding tight. Constricting. Crushing. His ribs ached with the force of it. His heart felt cracked in two, bloodied and raw, revealing the darkest depths not only to him, but to her. Needlepoint stinging crawled over his skin in rippling waves, like the way rain turned to glass in a strong enough wind storm. Because this was wrong. He was wrong. Filthy. Horrible.
Then, something in him snapped, the crippling wave of emotion too much. He couldn’t stand it anymore—the intense heat of Yona’s mouth at odds with the cold he felt creeping over the rest of him, threatening to snuff desire in favor of repentance. And in that moment, he didn’t care how good she felt, skimming her tongue up his length with far more ease than she should have had. So, instead, he pulled her up off of him, ignoring her whimper of protest, even as it lit a spark in the sludge and haze of dread spreading through him. And, feeling utterly gutted, with his heart exposed, beating and battered, he crushed her to his chest in a tight embrace. One arm wrapped right around her waist, the other tucking her head beneath his chin, finally allowing himself this touch soothed some of the anxiety and frustration biting into his nerves. But, it didn’t touch the heavy gut reaction to seeing Yona on the edge of tears at his hand.
And, even dense, clueless Yona, innocent, sweet Yona, noticed the shift in demeanor in an instant.
“Hak,” she murmured, quiet, breathy. “What’s wrong?”
Still, the gentle question only cemented the ache in his chest, because her voice had a hoarse edge, put there by him. Or, her actions really, but it was all in service of him.
A sob bubbled up in Hak’s chest, escaping on a ragged breath before he knew to choke it down. It was just too much. The emotion, the sensation he had been fighting so hard for years to stomp down, crashed into him full force. Caught in Yona’s whirlwind, he gave into the desires, indulged all those feelings he had ignored for so long, sensitized to them from years without. The longing, the wanting, then the crippling guilt at having done what he promised he would never do. He sullied her with his touch, hurt her even.
But, then, ginger fingertips smoothed through his hair, fell lower to cup his jaw, and everything felt just a little more right. She knew how to ease the darkness eating at him, always soft and light like a pastel dawn. And, somehow, she seemed to understand without needing to hear a word. Yona could read his guilt, and eventually, it seemed to hit her what had happened. She reached up to wipe her eyes, letting damp fingertips fall back to smooth across his jaw.
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said gentle yet firm and convincing all the same. And, just at those words, a relieved breath stumbled past the knot in his throat. ”You didn’t do anything wrong,” she assured.
A soft, soothing kiss fell to his temple, and Yona took all the time in world smoothing back his tousled, sweat dampened hair. She uncovered more skin from under the dark locks, pressing more careful kisses to every inch she exposed. And under her cautious, gentle, assuring affections, Hak’s already raw heart was set to aching in the sweetest way. This felt like love. None of the undercurrent of lust, of pain, or anything that might sully such a pure thing. And Yona simply gave and gave and gave, pouring so much selfless, honest care into him.
Quiet tears slipped down his cheeks, and she brushed those away, too. And, slowly, gradually, her love thawed the cold pit of guilty tar in his stomach. Cut the chains binding his chest. Burned out the darkness dwelling inside until all that was left was the softness and presence of her. Still, only when his breaths came easy and the stinging threat of tears was gone did he unwind his arms from around her back.
She didn’t move from his chest.
Now, calmer, steadier, an ashamed flush rose to his cheeks at the way he had reacted. It was embarrassing, and even if Yona had already seen him at his very best and very worst, he wished he could have reserved that moment for sometime he had been alone. Though, guilt and breakdowns were harder to soothe alone, without Yona there. That, he knew from experience.
Either way, heat simmered across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose, and down the back of his neck. And, if the way Yona giggled lightly and grinned, reaching out to brush a thumb across his cheek was evidence enough, she clearly noticed the pink rising there. “Feeling better now?” she questioned, all sunny, but with a softness around the edges.
“I guess,” Hak mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.
And Yona, his wonderful, shameless, beautiful Yona, took those simple words as permission. They could talk later, he figured, over boundaries and duty and guilt, but not now. Because that devilish spark, that breathtaking flare was back in Yona’s eyes, just the way he liked. And he could never resist her when she burned. In an instant, her fire spread from the tips of her fingers that trailed down his chest into him, reigniting his heart. With just a look, a touch, a questioning breath of his name, searching for confirmation that yes, this was okay, this was what he wanted, she had him coming undone all over again, sore heart and puffy eyes set to the side. Because for now, all they needed was touch and heat, an unraveling of pent up desires, and the complex knot of emotional snags could be left for later.
It was Yona, wholly, fully, at her most genuine, that he fell hopelessly in love with. She had his heart for a long, long time. And now, he felt so justified in handing it to her all those years ago, because no one could make him feel so warm and full, deep in his chest, like she could. And no one could burn as hot, as passionate, as she could.
No one could rival Yona in sweetness or stubborn desire, and that was just the way he liked it.