"do you... trust me?" it's a low whisper, the king's soft lips pressed against the stuttering pulse in your throat. but you think, or maybe you hope, the implications are trying to delve much deeper into your heart. regardless, your answer has never...
the throne demands so much. is the king prepared to give?
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"Go on then."
Across the table, the king settles into a wooden chair, his robes spread imposingly across the arms as if it were his rightful throne. There's a spread of dinner dishes before you in silver bowls, all your favorites, and yet you can't quite bring yourself to eat when he's staring at you so fervently.
"Surely you don't have the time for this, jeonha," you say. "Wouldn't you rather take what you came here for first...?"
He doesn't hesitate for even a moment as he answers, "I am."
You swallow, awkwardly, as you finally pick up the chopsticks, feeling too aware of your every movement as his gaze follows your path from bowl to mouth, as if he's making sure of something.
Ever since you returned to your work after recovering from that day in January, the king has kept you at a distance, yet somehow nearer all the same. The hands that touch you, that take you apart and bring you to noisy climaxes now are seldom rough in the way he used to favor so much; they are instead quietly... reluctant as they skim your skin, to the point of almost fooling you into believing him gentle. Has he grown tired or bored of you? That doesn't seem to be the reason either, not when he is sitting across from you with this strange patience.
But the threat he had said to you those few weeks ago ever lingers in your mind, reminding you of the lines drawn between you, reminding you to keep the fortress stacked around your heart, even if the walls have already been reduced to mere rubble. Regardless, you will try your best to survive. Try to stop questioning if he truly wants you.
"Mm!" You can't help a little noise of delight when you slip a piece of marinated pork into your mouth, indulgent flavor melting on your tongue. It's been so long since you've had this dish that you forget yourself, allowing a wide smile to spread across your lips even in the presence of the king.
Said man merely looks amused. "Good?"
"Delicious."
"I want a taste."
"But there is only one set of chopsticks."
"And? I've seen you eat from them. I no longer fear any possible poison."
He leans forward, an elbow resting on the table. His hand curls under his chin, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly, pointedly opens his mouth. Waiting to be fed.
"I, um, jeonha...!" Your voice comes out a squeak at the end. The king normally wouldn't even eat without a taste tester but even without the threat of poison, to have you directly put food in his mouth! He doesn't give you a single moment to recover as he leans in another inch, looking absolutely cocksure of himself that you will give in.
He would be right.
Carefully, you carry a piece of pork to his lips. He wraps his lips around your offering, lazy and slow. Bites down to pull the piece wholly into his mouth before his tongue darts out, swiping up, lingering across the silver chopstick tips for a long second. But it's enough. It's more than enough to fluster you as your mind leaps to highly inappropriate things, to images branded in your mind of other times you have seen those half-lidded eyes paired with quick flashes of tongue.
