Cries of Salvation (BL)

Sweet breaths were drawn out of Haon in shallow wisps, fluttering past his lips without permission. He didn't mean to react, but the sensation behind him was too overpowering for his own good.

Each breath grew shorter as warmth brushed against the tender stretch of his skin, and his long hair was swept aside, falling over his shoulder like silk to reveal the vulnerable slope of his neck. Cool air met heated skin, and the contrast only made the tears pricking his lashes sting more. They didn't fall, instead, they suspended like unshed confessions.

Haon's neck, once pale and untouched like a white canvas, now bloomed with formless red marks and feverish stains. When Noha finally pulled his face away from it, more smudges were uncovered, scattered like a silent warning across the tender skin. A design of his own made of heat and impulse.

The man had been at it for what felt like forever. Lost in his own rhythm. So engrossed that the surrounding sounds of moans and drunken indulgence blurred into nothing. Noha, who was known for spilling blood without remorse was now utterly consumed by the feel of delicate skin and the way Haon's trembling frame pressed so naturally against his own.

Haon whimpered again, barely audible, his head bowed as though in apology. His face remained hidden, a secret turned away from the man behind him. For a flicker of a second, Noha had the sudden urge to turn him around, to see that fragile expression head-on and burn it into memory. But he restrained himself.

Right now, he was far too preoccupied with the slender body tucked beneath his arm, far too entranced by the flush of heat still searing against his lips. His throat bobbed once, his ruby eyes hooded and gleaming with a possessive, almost fevered glow.

Noha was never one to assign meaning to any of his actions. He rarely ever did. But the hunger that surfaced around Haon was undeniable–especially when it came to his body, which seemed made for him to ruin. Even clothed, the body was sinfully tempting.

A ghost of a smirk graced his lips before he leaned in once again. This time, his tongue danced across the reddened patch of skin, reverently dragging a line against the heat as he inhaled the sweetness which comes along with it. There was something almost addictive in the taste, stirring in him a dangerous satisfaction even without the thrill of bloodshed.

"Such a devious fate you have," Noha mused.

With each passing second, the excruciating pain that had plagued his body like a phantom seemed to dull. The constant burning under his skin faded. The crawling nausea and splitting headaches he'd endured all his life melted away without a trace of ever existing as he stayed close to Haon.

Just quiet relief.

Haon's presence was oddly medicinal. It wasn't healing, not in the traditional sense. But whatever effect it had… it worked. Unlike the other Hwarins who brought him fleeting peace, Haon offered something entirely different–something his body responded to instinctively. Perhaps the most compatible.

'How unfortunate that you fell right into my hands.'

By sheer randomness, Haon had wandered into Noha's world like a lamb into a den of wolves, completely unaware and unprepared for what awaited him. That, above all, was Haon's mistake. One he would never be allowed to undo. And yet, Noha felt nothing but gratitude for that twist of fate. In this body, he had found a valuable treasure. One that could never leave, no matter what Haon wanted.

Elsewhere in the room, Koii stared openly.

Her unblinking gaze remained locked onto the enigmatic man whose face was half-buried against the bony frame of the blind Hwarin, as though nothing else in the room existed.

Jealousy bloomed like rot in Koii's chest, nails digging into the hem of her silken sleeve. She studied Haon through narrowed eyes, inquisitively scanning the milky skin that peeked out whenever Noha's lips moved along the lines of his shoulder.

Yes, the blind man had delicate features. A fragile sort of beauty. But he couldn't possibly compare to her. Not to her picturesque curves or flawless face. She didn't need golden eyes or cursed blood to draw men in–her charm alone had been enough.

Which only deepened her confusion, envy swelling like bile. Why him?

Why was Sir Noha wrapped around that creature as if he were the centre of his world?

Earlier, she had smugly declared to her handmaiden that she had no desire to attract Noha. That he was too dangerous. Too mercurial. But that was a lie. One she'd whispered often enough to almost believe. Deep down, she had always dreamed of a man like him. What woman wouldn't? Power like his was intoxicating.

What if he looked her way? What if she was the one he chose?

The thought was enough to make her stomach bubble in anticipation.

"All these Hwarins are better off dead," she bitterly muttered under her breath, barely audible under the symphony of sin around her.

But her hateful reverie was interrupted by a voice growling near her ear.

"You seem awfully distracted tonight."

The patron she had been ignoring ran his greedy hands across her chest, where the loose silk robe threatened to slip away entirely.

Snapping back into her role, Koii turned her head and gave a shy smile. One that revealed nothing.

"I was only waiting for you to proceed, kind sir," she said sweetly.

And like that, her body was reclaimed by the moment. Her moans soon joined the rest, swallowed up by the haze of desire that cloaked the pavilion like incense.

Outside the grand hall of the pavilion, armored guards stood like statues. They lined either side of the wide passageway, forming a wall of steel before the inner sanctuary, where the kingdom's most benevolent and powerful people gathered and mingled.

One of the guards near the front narrowed his eyes as he spotted a young maiden approaching, her steps light and purposeful.

"Halt right there. You can't pass."

"But they've called for me," the maiden replied with gentle confidence.

The guard frowned, but recognition dawned in his gaze upon closer inspection. If he remembered correctly, the maiden was one of the newer courtesans who had begun making her rounds in recent days.

Not wanting to risk the ire of the headmaster or her patrons, he stepped aside without further comment, allowing her to enter.

"Thank you."

Esei offered an alluring smile before dipping her head in a respectful bow. And just like that, she stepped forward into the glowing lantern light, her silhouette disappearing into the path ahead.