#But that man would willingly be crashed against the cliff that is Dreams affection

[unlikely-gravestones]

Thinking abt Dream "No mortal has loved me without coming to ruin" of the Endless and Hob "Then ruin me, Christ have me, just do not go where I cannot follow" Gadling....

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Of reflections and revelations

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: E

Word count: ~2 900 words

Story summary: Nakyum hasn’t still confessed to Seungho. He doesn’t quite know what is stopping him.

This is the second part in a series Of love, devotion and gratitude.

Read below or on AO3.

---

Nakyum is slow to awaken, as the fine threads of dreams drag and stretch. They still hold onto him, as he turns to his side and reaches a hand forward on the mattress.

The space beside him is empty.

Wakefulness doesn’t come with sadness though, even when he finds himself alone in the bed. It comes with joy, as he can’t suffocate the smile that is already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His eyes still closed, he thinks of Seungho, of the previous night. He imagines him before him, on top of him, just as he was then.

He lifts his arms above his head and arches his back in stretching himself. There is a dull throb of pain, no more than a gentle wave that caresses the rocky shores of a beach. He is blissfully sore from the way that Seungho had so carefully ravished him.

Seungho is rough as a lover, but he is generous too. He is thorough. He doesn’t push Nakyum too much, too hard, especially after – everything. He pushes him just enough so that he may drive Nakyum absolutely mad with how much he wants and needs, how much he feels.

Nakyum takes his sweet time lying in the bed, in the sheets that still smell of his lover, before he finally gets up.

The air feels cool on the bare skin of his body. The nights have got colder with the winter that is looming not too far ahead. Seungho’s sleeping quarters are undoubtedly the warmest in the house, but it’s still cool enough to have Nakyum to take his robe from the dresser and slip into it just for warmth.

When he turns to face the room again, he notices the small table that is settled beside the door. It is covered by a dozen or more small dishes.

He walks over to examine the bountiful offering, and it is then that he notices the flower. It is placed next to a cup of sweet treats. He picks it up, his fingers wrapping gently around the stem.

The flower has deep, brilliant red petals, gathered around the soft yellow center. It is one of the few flowers to bloom this late into the year. It is the flower that Seungho picked for him on another day long ago, when they had walked alone in the gardens at the back of the residence, when so much between them had been still fragile, ambivalent.

The words that Seungho said to him then come back to him now, so vivid, as does the soft look in his eyes when he spoke them.

I will come back – soon.

Nakyum’s smile grows wider yet at the memory of it.

He has no doubt that it is Seungho who has picked it for him this time too, it is him who arranged this table to be set here for waiting him. The flower is like a wordless love note left just for him, and it’s only him who can understand it.

---

After a lonesome mid-day meal, Nakyum is sitting by the opened window at Seungho’s sleeping quarters, although the man has yet to return.

He is staring at the view of the courtyard, wholly lost in his thoughts, in the memories.

He thinks of his first winter here, of the time when everything changed. He thinks of how things were between them.

Nakyum was already in love with Seungho then. He suspects he has been in love with him for much longer, only he didn’t realize it. He didn’t even examine his feelings before he learned of Seungho’s.

He lowers his gaze to his hands that lay on his lap, fingers teasing at the loose stitching on the edge of his robe.

He hasn’t still confessed to Seungho.

He hadn’t confessed when Seungho said the words to him for the first time. He hasn’t since, although Seungho has said them to him a dozen times.

He doesn’t quite know what is stopping him.

There is still fear in his heart, he knows. He isn’t afraid to want him, to devote himself to Seungho. There is no fear for that.

Words are more difficult though. He feels vulnerable when he thinks of speaking aloud what he carries in his heart. It feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, contemplating on a step forward that would determine if he would fall or learn to fly.

He is afraid he will get hurt. He knows Seungho will not hurt him willingly, but he is still afraid.

The heart of an artist is made of the finest porcelain, pure and beautiful but too easily shattered into a thousand little pieces.

Nakyum shifts his eyes towards the flower again that he had laid on the dresser.

Seungho is not afraid. He hasn’t been since he spoke the words.

He has expressed his feelings in words plenty of times. He had expressed them in acts of care and kindness even more.

Seungho isn’t afraid.

Maybe it’s in him where Nakyum could find his courage too.

Nakyum looks back to the courtyard. The day is cloudy, grey. The sun is hiding behind the nubilous veil, with only a few rays pushing past in stray beams of light.

After a while, his attention is caught by a servant walking towards the entrance in hurried steps. When he looks towards the gated door, he sees Seungho who has just stepped in.

He looks down, as he steps into the courtyard. His head is inclined in greeting the man who comes to meet him. He exchanges a few words with him, shaking his head minutely, before he sends the man on his way.

It is then that Seungho’s eyes turn towards the opened window. They instantly set on Nakyum’s. There is a smile on his lips, small and private, just for him.

Nakyum smiles too, his heart aching with the sight of him. He is always aching for him.

---

They settle down side by side at the long dining table of the common room for the evening meal.

After his return, Seungho came briefly to see Nakyum at his sleeping quarters. He kissed him and whispered to him that he had missed him, which felt – silly, ridiculous, given that they were apart for no more than a few hours. Seungho smiled though in that way that he does on occasion, just for him. In a way that is both cheeky and shy at the same time.

Seeing him like that, Nakyum could not help but respond in kind. He told Seungho that he missed him too.

After, Seungho retreated to his library where Nakyum did not follow.

They did not see each other again until Seungho came to escort him for dinner.

Sitting beside him at the table now, Nakyum leans closer only so that he may get the small cup of sliced sweet cucumbers.

Seungho does not help him to retrieve it, but he leans closer too, his shoulder brushing against Nakyum's. There's a smile on his lips, faint but teasing, although his eyes are cast down while he fills his cup too. It was not accidental that he didn't move or help Nakyum. It was not rudeness either, as it is part of this physical play between them.

As they begin to eat, Nakyum asks Seungho about his day. He answers easily, as if there is nothing he wishes to hide or keep from Nakyum, as if there are no secrets or lies between them, and no need for either.

Nakyum listens to Seungho talk. He doesn't talk much himself.

In listening, his mind soon drifts though.

He said to Seungho that he missed him too.

He has said a lot of things to him, a lot of small admissions of his affections.

He has not said the words that mean the most.

Why could he not say those words? Why does he find them impossible to speak aloud?

Why does he need to say them at all? Why isn't it enough that he feels them?

He is staring down at his cup, lost in his thoughts, when he feels the light touch on his forearm. When he lifts his eyes, they meet Seungho's concerned gaze.

"Are you okay?"

Nakyum nods and says quietly, "I'm fine."

He is not fine.

It is not Seungho who is hurting from the words unspoken. It's Nakyum himself, but he still swallows them down.

---

Nakyum is lying next to Seungho on the mattress, his head pressed on the bare, firm chest. His fingers draw circles on the bare skin, not far from the long scar on Seungho’s side. The one that he had gained in protecting Nakyum.

He is listening to Seungho's deep, rich voice, as he is reading aloud.

In the past few nights, Seungho has been reading him a sweet, heart-aching story of two soulmates separated by time and distance, separated by impossible circumstances. Much of what he has read recently has been romantic. Much of it has been filled with feelings that go far beyond casual, feeble affections.

Nakyum listens, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Hearing the stories of pain and heartache, he is faced with the notion of how very lucky he is to have Seungho now, to be in his arms, safe and so hopelessly in love with him.

He feels lucky not just to have found a lover but to found a confidant and a home too, all in this one person who loves him back, who would give him everything he wished, anything he asked. A person who would do anything to keep him there.

The journey they took to get here was long and winding, and it feels as if it was nearly impossible too. It feels as if it is a story that should be immortalized in the books too.

He listens to Seungho's voice.

Seungho reads the beautiful words on the page, an artful and passionate confession of love. He reads them with his voice low but steady. He reads them as if he is speaking them for Nakyum, saying them for him, meaning them for him.

There is no fear in Seungho in his absolute certainty.

And then, there is no fear for Nakyum either, at least not enough to stop him.

Nakyum takes a deep breath in, and he closes his eyes. He whispers, “I love you too.”

It’s quiet and careful, his admission. It’s hidden behind Seungho’s words, as he continues to read. It’s not lost though, because Seungho falls quiet then.

He doesn’t lower the book, he doesn’t even move. He just breathes if only that.

Nakyum's heart is racing in his chest, faster and harder yet. The fear comes crashing in then, stealing the very breath from his lungs with the force that it rushed in.

He has stepped over the edge of the cliff, into the abyss that awaits beneath.

When Nakyum is about to pull his words back, Seungho finally speaks.

He will not let Nakyum fall.

“I love you so much.”

His voice is thin, frayed though, as if he wasn’t expecting Nakyum’s confession, as if he wasn’t as full of confidence and courage as he always seems to be. Perhaps he was not, is not.

His voice is anguished too, as if he loves him so much that he pains over it too. Perhaps he does love him so very much.

“I love you,” Nakyum says again.

This time it's easier.

This time it's a relief to speak the words, so he says them again – and again. Every time is much bigger of a relief, because he has bottled all of it for far too long, because Seungho didn't let him fall, he never does.

It is Seungho who will always catch him when he falls.

Nakyum can’t help but smile as he says it again.

It is then that Seungho puts his book aside. He turns to Nakyum, and he is pressing a kiss into Nakyum’s smiling mouth before he can say it once more.

---

When Seungho pushes Nakyum onto his back, Nakyum yields.

Seungho is kissing him, lips moving in a tantalizing dance against his mouth. His hand comes to cradle Nakyum’s jaw, to hold him steady when he kisses harder, deeper yet. He kisses Nakyum until he is breathless with it. Even then, Seungho pulls back only for a second or a few.

It’s just long enough for Nakyum to see the half-lidded look on Seungho’s face, just long enough for him to say again, “I love you so much, Nakyum.”

And then, Seungho is kissing him again.

Nakyum allows him.

His hands are on Seungho. One arm is wrapped around his upper back, while the other hand grips his bare shoulder. The muscles tense and punch under his palm, when Seungho’s hand, too, roams down Nakyum’s frame.

Without breaking the kiss, Seungho peels off Nakyum’s clothes. He pushes off to disrobe himself too, his eyes raking down the length of Nakyum. He looks at him as if he has never seen him before.

There is not just want and need in his eyes. There is affection. There is wonder too as if he can't believe that Nakyum is his.

Nakyum extends his hand towards him in an invitation. He doesn’t ask. Instead, he says, “I love you, my Lord.”

Seungho doesn't stay away any longer.

He rejoins Nakyum with kisses and touches that are quick to trail down. He laves his torso with kisses, his hand smoothing down what his lips don’t caress. He does it with such care that leaves no inch untouched. He does it with such skills that leaves Nakyum nearly oblivious to all else.

Only when he glances down, does he realize that dispersed between the kisses, there are quiet words of love and admiration whispered into his bare skin.

When he gets down, Seungho doesn't hesitate to take him into his mouth. It is then that Nakyum has to look away, to close his eyes.

It is with feverish attention and dedication that Seungho prepares him. He does more than that. He brings Nakyum such pleasure that it’s almost impossible to bear.

“Please,” Nakyum begs and grips at his shoulder.

Seungho releases him then. When Nakyum looks down, he finds Seungho already staring at him, his eyes dark and intense. They stay on his, as he moves closer to Nakyum.

Their gaze is only broken when Seungho glances down between them to take a hold of himself, to guide himself where Nakyum longs to have him. He lifts his eyes back to Nakyum’s though before he pushes into him.

He stills upon being fully sheathed. He blinks his eyes a few times, before he closes them and presses his face against the crook of Nakyum’s neck. He breathes.

"You wreck me, Nakyum," Seungho says, his voice quiet, anguished, "Must you always wreck me so?"

Nakyum is too overwhelmed to respond. He doesn’t get the chance before Seungho begins to move. It’s impossible after.

Seungho thrusts into him, his moves careful and controlled. He wraps his around Nakyum’s shoulder, but the grip is strong, almost painful in its hold. With his face hidden, it is what betrays him, what betrays the need, the despair that he hides inside.

Nakyum feels it too, that despair. He feels much more.

To be this close to him now fills Nakyum with so much emotion that it has tears prickling behind his closed eyelids.

Overwhelmed, Nakyum knows he can’t last long. He can’t find the words to express it, as his hands grapple to pull him closer yet. He speaks only words he knows, he finds now.

"Please," Nakyum says, as the first tear rolls down his cheek, "Seungho, please. I love you."

Seungho doesn't respond in words, but he can’t swallow down the low moan upon hearing Nakyum’s either. He still responds, with all of himself. He grips Nakyum’s hip and thrusts into him, hard and fast. He does it, relentlessly.

Nakyum cries aloud when the pleasure rips through him. He writhes, bucking against Seungho half a dozen or so times until he finds his pleasures too.

When they sag against the mattress in a breathless heap, the tears brim to Nakyum’s eyes. He can’t stop them from falling. He can’t stop the sobs from escaping his lips.

Seungho pulls back in an instant, confused and concerned. His hand on Nakyum’s shoulder and his eyes on his, he asks, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

More tears well into Nakyum’s eyes. He swallows heavily, his voice weak and frail when he replies.

“No, I just -… I love you so much.”

There is relief in Seungho’s eyes when he hears the words. There is understanding too, because he knows what it means to hold back, to harbor the words inside.

His hand comes to cradle Nakyum’s jaw once more. He kisses him then, sweet and tender, before he presses his forehead against Nakyum’s.

"I know you do," Seungho says in a whisper against his lips, "and I love you too."