My Orders Changed on the Wedding Night novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: The Door Opens
After three years at his door, Ja-heon is finally called inside, and he kneels.
The summons came at the second watch, which was when Seon-woo always sent for him, but it was the first summons Ja-heon had ever dreaded.
A disciple knocked on the guard hut door and said the Pavilion Master wanted his bodyguard.
Ja-heon dropped the slip into the stove and watched it curl to black.
Then he crossed the courtyard to the Master's house under a bright moon, with a ring on his finger and a needle in his sleeve.
For three years he had slept on a mat outside Seon-woo's door.
He had listened to Seon-woo turn pages, cough once, and put out the lamp.
He had never been invited past the screen.
Tonight the door stood open.
Seon-woo sat at his writing table in a plain white under-robe, with his hair down.
Ja-heon had never seen it down.
It poured over his shoulders to his waist, white as new paper, and it moved in the lamplight when he breathed.
A brush lay across the inkstone, dry.
He had not been writing.
"Close the door," Seon-woo said.
Ja-heon closed it.
"Take off your coat."
Ja-heon looked at him.
Seon-woo looked back with the same level face he wore in the hall, except that the tip of one ear was red.
Ja-heon took off the black coat and hung it on the stand, and his iron bracers went on top with a heavy clink.
The sleeve with the needle in it hung there, limp.
He did not look at it.
"You said yes in front of them," Seon-woo said.
"You asked."
"I asked in front of them so you could not be pressured later.
"If you had said no, I would have let you walk out of this house a free man."
"I know."
"Then you said yes because you wanted to."
It was the first question all day that Ja-heon could answer with the truth.
"I wanted to," he said.
Seon-woo's breath went out of him in a slow thread.
He stood and crossed the room in three steps.
His hands were not steady, and he did not hide it.
He stopped close enough that Ja-heon could smell the cedar soap in his hair.
Ja-heon could have lifted him with one arm.
He stood still, because Seon-woo had not told him to move.
"For three years I have wanted to give you an order that had nothing to do with the door," Seon-woo said.
"Give it."
Seon-woo put two fingers under Ja-heon's chin and turned his scarred jaw toward the lamp.
His thumb followed the pale line from Ja-heon's ear to the corner of his mouth.
"Kiss me," he said.
Ja-heon bent and kissed him.
Seon-woo made a small sound against his mouth that Ja-heon felt low in his belly.
He tasted of cold tea and something sweeter underneath.
Seon-woo's hands closed in Ja-heon's shirt and pulled him down, and his mouth opened under Ja-heon's.
His tongue found Ja-heon's with a hunger that had no manners in it at all.
Ja-heon's hands found his waist, and Seon-woo arched into them.
"Again," Seon-woo said into his mouth.
"You're greedy, Master."
"Again."
Ja-heon kissed him until Seon-woo was breathing in short hard pulls and his fingers had gone white on the cloth.
When Ja-heon lifted his head, Seon-woo's lips were wet and swollen and his black eyes were not cold anywhere.
"Kneel," Seon-woo said.
Ja-heon went down.
He did not have to think about it.
The floorboards were warm under his knees.
Seon-woo's hands slid into his short hair and held him there, and Ja-heon looked up the length of him.
The white robe hung open at the throat.
Below it, through the thin cloth, Seon-woo was hard and pushing at the front of it.
"Open it," Seon-woo said.
Ja-heon's fingers shook.
He pulled the sash loose and pushed the robe aside.
Seon-woo's cock stood long and pale and flushed at the tip, and Ja-heon thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He put his mouth on it.
Seon-woo swore, a soft shocked word Ja-heon would never have guessed he knew, and his fingers tightened in Ja-heon's hair.
"Good," Seon-woo whispered.
The word hit Ja-heon.
He took him deeper.
The skin was hot and smooth as satin over a hard pulse.
Ja-heon closed his lips and drew him in slowly, all the way to the back of his throat.
Seon-woo shook.
Ja-heon laid one hand on the back of Seon-woo's thigh to hold him up.
He kept the other flat on his own knee, because if he touched himself he would finish.
"Ja-heon," Seon-woo said.
It was the first time he had ever said Ja-heon's given name, and he said it as if it hurt.
Ja-heon worked him with his tongue and his mouth, wet and slow, and Seon-woo told him how.
"Slower."
"There."
"Yes."
"Don't stop."
"I won't, Master," Ja-heon said around him.
Seon-woo made a noise that was almost a sob.
His hips began to move, small helpless thrusts into Ja-heon's mouth, and Ja-heon let him.
Ja-heon groaned around the length of him, his own cock aching hard in his trousers, his whole body gone loose and glad.
"Look at me," Seon-woo said.
Ja-heon looked up.
Seon-woo's face was flushed to the hairline and he had his lip caught in his teeth.
His white hair had fallen over one shoulder, and he watched Ja-heon's mouth on him.
Ja-heon took him to the root.
Seon-woo came with a broken cry, hot and fast down Ja-heon's throat, and Ja-heon swallowed every drop and kept his eyes on Seon-woo's face.
Seon-woo folded.
Ja-heon caught him before his knees went, and they ended up on the floor with Seon-woo's head against Ja-heon's chest and his fist knotted in Ja-heon's shirt.
For a while neither of them spoke.
"You didn't," Seon-woo said at last, hoarse, and his hand slid down Ja-heon's stomach.
"I'm fine."
"That is not an answer."
His palm closed over the hard line of Ja-heon through his trousers, and Ja-heon made a sound he hadn't known he had.
"Seon-woo."
"There it is," Seon-woo said, and for the first time Ja-heon heard him smile.
He opened Ja-heon's trousers and stroked him, slow and sure, with those long clever fingers.
Ja-heon came in a few seconds, with his forehead on Seon-woo's shoulder and Seon-woo's name in his mouth.
Seon-woo held him through it.
Afterward Seon-woo fetched a cloth and cleaned them both with the grave care of a man doing his accounts.
Then he lay down on his sleeping mat and held out his hand.
Ja-heon lay down beside him, and Seon-woo took his wrist and did not let go.
Seon-woo was asleep in minutes.
Three years of sleeplessness, and it took him minutes.
Ja-heon lay awake in the dark with Seon-woo's pulse under his thumb.
His coat hung across the room on its stand, with the needle in the sleeve.
Seon-woo trusted him, and had put his whole life in Ja-heon's hand like it was the lightest thing he owned.
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