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chineseinkSo, how long has it been since I've written anything? I've forgotten how, I swear. See for yourself. :( I guess I'll try to write more over break (damn you, Chris!) but generally speaking: alskdjflskd.
Season of Frost
Super Junior (M), Zhou Mi/Kyuhyun, PG, 2085 words
Harem AU. Zhou Mi knows what he has with Kyuhyun can't last forever, but he can't stop himself anyway.
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miracle_ss fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aisagreem. :)
Season of Frost
bymeitachi
Outside the palace, the night was cold. Without the sun, the air became unfriendly, biting at uncovered skin and leaving the unfortunate soul outside short of breath. Zhou Mi shivered as he darted silently down the garden path that led to the seraglio, pulling his thin shirt to his frame and cursing the Korean weather. It was never this cold at home.
Avoiding the sharp angles of the boulders piled beside the path, Zhou Mi carefully climbed atop one and steadied himself with a hand against the wall. He ghosted his knuckles across the glass of the window.
Inside, there was a rustle of cloth and suddenly a shadow blocked the light streaming from the window. Zhou Mi smiled as Kyuhyun pulled away the filmy drapes and looked at him through the glass. The prince’s favorite concubine looked first surprised, then wary.
“Going to let me in, Kui Xian?” Zhou Mi asked cheerfully, saying Kyuhyun’s name in his native tongue as he’d been given to for the past month. “Or are you going to leave me to die out in the cold? It’d be a horrifically tragic death.” He shivered for emphasis and then grinned again when Kyuhyun rolled his eyes and slid the window open.
“He’s home tonight,” Kyuhyun said as he helped Zhou Mi climb over the sill and into the warmth of the room. “I told you earlier. You should know better.”
Zhou Mi tangled his arms around Kyuhyun’s, hand sliding into the small of his back. “He’s been home all week,” he said with a pout. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’re a child,” Kyuhyun said, pulling away. “A foolish one.” He stepped around Zhou Mi to close the window and drag the curtains back into place. “Now get away from the window before anyone can see you.”
“But Kui Xian,” said Zhou Mi even as he obediently followed Kyuhyun to the bed covered in silk. He waited until he was reclined on the bed before flashing Kyuhyun a cocky smile, all teasing and surety. He knew exactly how much Kyuhyun missed him and hated to show it. “Didn’t you miss me?”
Kyuhyun stood beside the bed, mouth drawn in a frown. He wore a light blue silk robe embroidered with cranes and cloud-topped mountains; it gaped open slightly at the neck, fell loose over his narrow shoulders, and draped all the way to the ground. He looked every inch the pampered, favorite concubine, and Zhou Mi knew he felt that way too – smooth, soft skin marred only by the barest hint of calluses on his fingers from the archery he had convinced the king to let him enjoy.
“Why do you beg for attention like this?” Kyuhyun asked, annoyed. “You really are a child.”
“You say that every time. But if I were a child, I wouldn’t be able to do the things to you that I can—” Zhou Mi trailed off into a chuckle as Kyuhyun flushed slightly. Then his eyes narrowed and he leaned in to whisper into Zhou Mi’s ear.
“For all you know, I could be merely pretending. I am a concubine, after all. I’m very, very good at pretending to enjoy things that I don’t particularly…”
“Kui Xian,” Zhou Mi whined, sliding a hand around the back of Kyuhyun’s neck and tugging him down.
Kyuhyun kissed him lightly. “Reckless, hopeless child,” he murmured. “What will you do if Sungmin comes for me tonight?”
The lamplight cast shadows onto Kyuhyun’s face that faded into his hair and seeped under the collar of his robe. Zhou Mi stared at the sheen of moisture on Kyuhyun’s bottom lip and swallowed as the familiar elation and uncertainty and want washed through him. He inhaled silently, taking in the gentle perfume of the room—smoky incense and sandalwood and a hint of gardenias—then pulled Kyuhyun onto the bed.
“Indulge me,” he said with a bright smile, and kissed him again.
***
Zhou Mi had fallen in love with Kyuhyun almost as soon as he’d laid eyes on him. He had come in with the rest of concubines, filing into the grand banquet hall behind the king’s favorite, all to play their role and serve the royal family and the dignitaries from China. As a gift to the Chinese prince, Sungmin had graciously allowed Kyuhyun to attend to Zhou Mi throughout the meal. Zhou Mi had spoken softly to Kyuhyun in his awkward Korean but received little more than looks from under lowered lashes, and an occasional sly curve of his lips.
That had been enough to intrigue Zhou Mi. He sought out Kyuhyun when he could, catching him when he was out in the garden or passing in the halls.
“Talk to me,” Zhou Mi begged softly.
Kyuhyun was polite but distant at first, holding himself visibly aloof. His eyes were shuttered, his expressions carefully controlled—but the longer Zhou Mi pursued him, plying him with smiles and questions and silly jokes, the more Kyuhyun’s tension eased. He became more open, lingering to talk with Zhou Mi about politics or poetry, or taking the time to show Zhou Mi around the garden, shamelessly admitting total ignorance on every plant.
“I’m shocked,” Zhou Mi said, and he was a little bit, because Kyuhyun seemed so cultured and educated in every other respect. Kyuhyun had only shrugged, careless; Zhou Mi then began pointing and naming each plant they came across. “Princes are expected to know these kinds of things,” he explained sheepishly when Kyuhyun slanted him an amused glance.
“Not how to govern wisely but how to tell one bush from another?”
“Princes are expected to have a wide range of knowledge,” Zhou Mi said, frowning a bit. “And familiarity with nature can be helpful in aiding with medicinal needs.”
Kyuhyun still laughed at him but agreed. They spent many hours every day in each other’s company, stolen under a sapphire sky, warm in each other’s presence despite the cooling weather. The breeze that ruffled their clothes, swathes of warm gold and red and deep royal blue, was still gentle, and Zhou Mi could feel himself falling deeper and deeper every day, every hour, every moment.
He knew for sure when Kyuhyun touched him one day, a light brush of his fingers against the back of Zhou Mi’s hand. He looked up into Zhou Mi’s eyes and asked, “Do you sing?”
Zhou Mi’s response was hesitant. “I did. I do. I was trained for it.” His father had told him not to waste his time on a fruitless passion; as a prince he needed only to be adequate. Passable. Acceptable. There needn’t be any passion.
Kyuhyun sang for him that day in the garden, hand resting atop Zhou Mi’s.
His voice brought tears to Zhou Mi’s eyes, and that was when he knew what he wanted.
***
“Wo yao ni,” Zhou Mi said, voice catching in an unintentional tremble. I want you.
He was a prince of China. He governed all of Hubei and gave executive orders that those beneath him scurried to carry out. He was used to having to think carefully about what consequences his actions might have, but he was used to getting what he wanted. He was well-liked, respected, and feared. He was honored. He had his own harem at home, of pale, nubile, rosy-cheeked beauties with dark eyes and soft hands and gentle lips. He wanted only Kyuhyun, Kui Xian, the favorite of the crown prince of Korea.
I want you.
So much that it hurt, with bated breath and a heavy heartbeat, staring across what felt like an eternity, waiting for Kyuhyun’s response.
***
“May I call you Kui Xian?”
Kyuhyun shivered as Zhou Mi’s breath stirred the hair by his ear. He rolled slowly towards the other man under the weight of heavy silk covers pressing down on his bare skin; he curled into Zhou Mi and tilted his head slightly.
“You may, your Highness,” he whispered into Zhou Mi’s mouth.
***
Sometimes, Sungmin called for Kyuhyun.
No, often, Sungmin called for Kyuhyun. The crown prince was more and more frequently out of the palace on a tour of the country, visiting the far prefectures and forging bonds with those who would one day work under him. But he was still at the palace more often than not during those eight months Zhou Mi had been in Korea, and when he was home, Sungmin enjoyed Kyuhyun’s company.
Zhou Mi was never particularly fond of those nights.
“Don’t visit tonight,” Kyuhyun said as he carefully painted a long, broad stroke on his scroll. Zhou Mi let his eyes fall to the streak of ink against paper.
“He’s in the palace tonight?” he asked lightly. He trailed his dry brush along Kyuhyun’s elegantly exposed wrist, fine white horsehair bristles twisting against skin and bone until Kyuhyun jerked his arm away in exasperation, sleeve billowing back into place.
“Mimi,” he sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Stop.”
Zhou Mi smiled innocently at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You know the answer.”
“Kui Xian~”
Kyuhyun set down his brush, resting it atop its porcelain perch. “He wants me to play the kayageum for him tonight,” he said, and Zhou Mi’s heart lurched at the soft, pleased tone of his voice. Kyuhyun loved his elegant kayageum, every gleam of wood and string. He cherished every opportunity to perform, no matter who it was for, but he particularly enjoyed playing for Sungmin, who had been trained with an ear for music.
He hears the words I play, Kyuhyun had said once, smiling. He can hear the poetry in the melody. My prince was born for music.
So am I, thought Zhou Mi. He had only heard Kyuhyun play twice before, but his dreams had been haunted with the intensity in Kyuhyun’s eyes, the glide of his fingers over the strings, the very essence he poured into his playing. He was born for Kyuhyun’s music.
“Play for me, Kui Xian,” he urged. Show me who you are, he demanded silently, dancing his fingers over Kyuhyun’s covered wrist
Kyuhyun hesitated; a soft breath of consideration. “Maybe next time.” His gaze eluded Zhou Mi’s searching eyes, slipping faraway. Then a rustle of robes as he rose.
“Sungmin will want to see me soon.”
***
“I love you,” Kyuhyun said one day, abruptly, awkwardly. His hands shook and his face was red. He couldn’t meet Zhou Mi’s eyes. “I love you but I shouldn’t.”
He turned around before Zhou Mi could respond, fleeing.
***
Five minutes later, Zhou Mi caught him in his rooms and said, uncharacteristically serious: “I never took you for a coward, Kyuhyun.”
“What do you think you know—?” Kyuhyun kept his back to him, every line reflecting tension and hurt.
Zhou Mi took him by the shoulders and turned him around. “I love you,” he said in Chinese, and smiled as Kyuhyun took a moment to translate that. As realization dawned in his eyes, Zhou Mi leaned in to kiss him.
***
Flickering candles cast a low, golden light from across the room. Kyuhyun would slip out from beneath the duvets and Zhou Mi’s arm to put them out before long, plunging the room into the eager embrace of the dark night. Until then, Zhou Mi was content to hold Kyuhyun in his arms in a lazy drowse.
Kyuhyun’s hair was damp from sweat; his breaths were still evening as he curled into Zhou Mi. On his neck, he was marked with light bruises, some from Zhou Mi and some from Sungmin. He slept in a luxurious room next to his own portion of the royal garden because of his favor with the crown prince. A long-stringed zither sat perched on its stand across the room, Kyuhyun’s favorite gift from Sungmin.
Zhou Mi would leave when two years were over. He would return to his country, to his own people. His native language would be welcome on his tongue, familiar like his own palace, his favorite dishes, and his private music hall.
Kyuhyun was not his own person to give and to love Zhou Mi. Neither was Zhou Mi so free as he could pretend in Korea, losing himself in this dream.
For a little while longer they could sing together, talk together, be with each other. They could kiss and touch and make believe that they had forever.
In the dark, they could pretend. Outside, the night was cold.
Started: 2008.11.26
Finished: 2008.12.10
Season of Frost
Super Junior (M), Zhou Mi/Kyuhyun, PG, 2085 words
Harem AU. Zhou Mi knows what he has with Kyuhyun can't last forever, but he can't stop himself anyway.
miracle_ss fic for aisagreem. :)Season of Frost
by
meitachiOutside the palace, the night was cold. Without the sun, the air became unfriendly, biting at uncovered skin and leaving the unfortunate soul outside short of breath. Zhou Mi shivered as he darted silently down the garden path that led to the seraglio, pulling his thin shirt to his frame and cursing the Korean weather. It was never this cold at home.
Avoiding the sharp angles of the boulders piled beside the path, Zhou Mi carefully climbed atop one and steadied himself with a hand against the wall. He ghosted his knuckles across the glass of the window.
Inside, there was a rustle of cloth and suddenly a shadow blocked the light streaming from the window. Zhou Mi smiled as Kyuhyun pulled away the filmy drapes and looked at him through the glass. The prince’s favorite concubine looked first surprised, then wary.
“Going to let me in, Kui Xian?” Zhou Mi asked cheerfully, saying Kyuhyun’s name in his native tongue as he’d been given to for the past month. “Or are you going to leave me to die out in the cold? It’d be a horrifically tragic death.” He shivered for emphasis and then grinned again when Kyuhyun rolled his eyes and slid the window open.
“He’s home tonight,” Kyuhyun said as he helped Zhou Mi climb over the sill and into the warmth of the room. “I told you earlier. You should know better.”
Zhou Mi tangled his arms around Kyuhyun’s, hand sliding into the small of his back. “He’s been home all week,” he said with a pout. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’re a child,” Kyuhyun said, pulling away. “A foolish one.” He stepped around Zhou Mi to close the window and drag the curtains back into place. “Now get away from the window before anyone can see you.”
“But Kui Xian,” said Zhou Mi even as he obediently followed Kyuhyun to the bed covered in silk. He waited until he was reclined on the bed before flashing Kyuhyun a cocky smile, all teasing and surety. He knew exactly how much Kyuhyun missed him and hated to show it. “Didn’t you miss me?”
Kyuhyun stood beside the bed, mouth drawn in a frown. He wore a light blue silk robe embroidered with cranes and cloud-topped mountains; it gaped open slightly at the neck, fell loose over his narrow shoulders, and draped all the way to the ground. He looked every inch the pampered, favorite concubine, and Zhou Mi knew he felt that way too – smooth, soft skin marred only by the barest hint of calluses on his fingers from the archery he had convinced the king to let him enjoy.
“Why do you beg for attention like this?” Kyuhyun asked, annoyed. “You really are a child.”
“You say that every time. But if I were a child, I wouldn’t be able to do the things to you that I can—” Zhou Mi trailed off into a chuckle as Kyuhyun flushed slightly. Then his eyes narrowed and he leaned in to whisper into Zhou Mi’s ear.
“For all you know, I could be merely pretending. I am a concubine, after all. I’m very, very good at pretending to enjoy things that I don’t particularly…”
“Kui Xian,” Zhou Mi whined, sliding a hand around the back of Kyuhyun’s neck and tugging him down.
Kyuhyun kissed him lightly. “Reckless, hopeless child,” he murmured. “What will you do if Sungmin comes for me tonight?”
The lamplight cast shadows onto Kyuhyun’s face that faded into his hair and seeped under the collar of his robe. Zhou Mi stared at the sheen of moisture on Kyuhyun’s bottom lip and swallowed as the familiar elation and uncertainty and want washed through him. He inhaled silently, taking in the gentle perfume of the room—smoky incense and sandalwood and a hint of gardenias—then pulled Kyuhyun onto the bed.
“Indulge me,” he said with a bright smile, and kissed him again.
***
Zhou Mi had fallen in love with Kyuhyun almost as soon as he’d laid eyes on him. He had come in with the rest of concubines, filing into the grand banquet hall behind the king’s favorite, all to play their role and serve the royal family and the dignitaries from China. As a gift to the Chinese prince, Sungmin had graciously allowed Kyuhyun to attend to Zhou Mi throughout the meal. Zhou Mi had spoken softly to Kyuhyun in his awkward Korean but received little more than looks from under lowered lashes, and an occasional sly curve of his lips.
That had been enough to intrigue Zhou Mi. He sought out Kyuhyun when he could, catching him when he was out in the garden or passing in the halls.
“Talk to me,” Zhou Mi begged softly.
Kyuhyun was polite but distant at first, holding himself visibly aloof. His eyes were shuttered, his expressions carefully controlled—but the longer Zhou Mi pursued him, plying him with smiles and questions and silly jokes, the more Kyuhyun’s tension eased. He became more open, lingering to talk with Zhou Mi about politics or poetry, or taking the time to show Zhou Mi around the garden, shamelessly admitting total ignorance on every plant.
“I’m shocked,” Zhou Mi said, and he was a little bit, because Kyuhyun seemed so cultured and educated in every other respect. Kyuhyun had only shrugged, careless; Zhou Mi then began pointing and naming each plant they came across. “Princes are expected to know these kinds of things,” he explained sheepishly when Kyuhyun slanted him an amused glance.
“Not how to govern wisely but how to tell one bush from another?”
“Princes are expected to have a wide range of knowledge,” Zhou Mi said, frowning a bit. “And familiarity with nature can be helpful in aiding with medicinal needs.”
Kyuhyun still laughed at him but agreed. They spent many hours every day in each other’s company, stolen under a sapphire sky, warm in each other’s presence despite the cooling weather. The breeze that ruffled their clothes, swathes of warm gold and red and deep royal blue, was still gentle, and Zhou Mi could feel himself falling deeper and deeper every day, every hour, every moment.
He knew for sure when Kyuhyun touched him one day, a light brush of his fingers against the back of Zhou Mi’s hand. He looked up into Zhou Mi’s eyes and asked, “Do you sing?”
Zhou Mi’s response was hesitant. “I did. I do. I was trained for it.” His father had told him not to waste his time on a fruitless passion; as a prince he needed only to be adequate. Passable. Acceptable. There needn’t be any passion.
Kyuhyun sang for him that day in the garden, hand resting atop Zhou Mi’s.
His voice brought tears to Zhou Mi’s eyes, and that was when he knew what he wanted.
***
“Wo yao ni,” Zhou Mi said, voice catching in an unintentional tremble. I want you.
He was a prince of China. He governed all of Hubei and gave executive orders that those beneath him scurried to carry out. He was used to having to think carefully about what consequences his actions might have, but he was used to getting what he wanted. He was well-liked, respected, and feared. He was honored. He had his own harem at home, of pale, nubile, rosy-cheeked beauties with dark eyes and soft hands and gentle lips. He wanted only Kyuhyun, Kui Xian, the favorite of the crown prince of Korea.
I want you.
So much that it hurt, with bated breath and a heavy heartbeat, staring across what felt like an eternity, waiting for Kyuhyun’s response.
***
“May I call you Kui Xian?”
Kyuhyun shivered as Zhou Mi’s breath stirred the hair by his ear. He rolled slowly towards the other man under the weight of heavy silk covers pressing down on his bare skin; he curled into Zhou Mi and tilted his head slightly.
“You may, your Highness,” he whispered into Zhou Mi’s mouth.
***
Sometimes, Sungmin called for Kyuhyun.
No, often, Sungmin called for Kyuhyun. The crown prince was more and more frequently out of the palace on a tour of the country, visiting the far prefectures and forging bonds with those who would one day work under him. But he was still at the palace more often than not during those eight months Zhou Mi had been in Korea, and when he was home, Sungmin enjoyed Kyuhyun’s company.
Zhou Mi was never particularly fond of those nights.
“Don’t visit tonight,” Kyuhyun said as he carefully painted a long, broad stroke on his scroll. Zhou Mi let his eyes fall to the streak of ink against paper.
“He’s in the palace tonight?” he asked lightly. He trailed his dry brush along Kyuhyun’s elegantly exposed wrist, fine white horsehair bristles twisting against skin and bone until Kyuhyun jerked his arm away in exasperation, sleeve billowing back into place.
“Mimi,” he sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Stop.”
Zhou Mi smiled innocently at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You know the answer.”
“Kui Xian~”
Kyuhyun set down his brush, resting it atop its porcelain perch. “He wants me to play the kayageum for him tonight,” he said, and Zhou Mi’s heart lurched at the soft, pleased tone of his voice. Kyuhyun loved his elegant kayageum, every gleam of wood and string. He cherished every opportunity to perform, no matter who it was for, but he particularly enjoyed playing for Sungmin, who had been trained with an ear for music.
He hears the words I play, Kyuhyun had said once, smiling. He can hear the poetry in the melody. My prince was born for music.
So am I, thought Zhou Mi. He had only heard Kyuhyun play twice before, but his dreams had been haunted with the intensity in Kyuhyun’s eyes, the glide of his fingers over the strings, the very essence he poured into his playing. He was born for Kyuhyun’s music.
“Play for me, Kui Xian,” he urged. Show me who you are, he demanded silently, dancing his fingers over Kyuhyun’s covered wrist
Kyuhyun hesitated; a soft breath of consideration. “Maybe next time.” His gaze eluded Zhou Mi’s searching eyes, slipping faraway. Then a rustle of robes as he rose.
“Sungmin will want to see me soon.”
***
“I love you,” Kyuhyun said one day, abruptly, awkwardly. His hands shook and his face was red. He couldn’t meet Zhou Mi’s eyes. “I love you but I shouldn’t.”
He turned around before Zhou Mi could respond, fleeing.
***
Five minutes later, Zhou Mi caught him in his rooms and said, uncharacteristically serious: “I never took you for a coward, Kyuhyun.”
“What do you think you know—?” Kyuhyun kept his back to him, every line reflecting tension and hurt.
Zhou Mi took him by the shoulders and turned him around. “I love you,” he said in Chinese, and smiled as Kyuhyun took a moment to translate that. As realization dawned in his eyes, Zhou Mi leaned in to kiss him.
***
Flickering candles cast a low, golden light from across the room. Kyuhyun would slip out from beneath the duvets and Zhou Mi’s arm to put them out before long, plunging the room into the eager embrace of the dark night. Until then, Zhou Mi was content to hold Kyuhyun in his arms in a lazy drowse.
Kyuhyun’s hair was damp from sweat; his breaths were still evening as he curled into Zhou Mi. On his neck, he was marked with light bruises, some from Zhou Mi and some from Sungmin. He slept in a luxurious room next to his own portion of the royal garden because of his favor with the crown prince. A long-stringed zither sat perched on its stand across the room, Kyuhyun’s favorite gift from Sungmin.
Zhou Mi would leave when two years were over. He would return to his country, to his own people. His native language would be welcome on his tongue, familiar like his own palace, his favorite dishes, and his private music hall.
Kyuhyun was not his own person to give and to love Zhou Mi. Neither was Zhou Mi so free as he could pretend in Korea, losing himself in this dream.
For a little while longer they could sing together, talk together, be with each other. They could kiss and touch and make believe that they had forever.
In the dark, they could pretend. Outside, the night was cold.
Started: 2008.11.26
Finished: 2008.12.10
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