[fic] Acceptance, Hanbum
Title: Acceptance
Fandom: SuJu
Pairing: Hanbum
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 874
Notes: #o34 of the Super Junior 100 Fic Challenge and also a christmas present to raiknii BECAUSE I HEARTS YOU SO HARD FOR MY PRESSIE/BEING GENERALLY AWESOME, AND LETTING ME PLAY IN YOUR VERSE~!!!

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The first thing he thinks when he gets to the harem is that everything
smells different than home; the air isn’t filled with the rich smell of the
spices of his homeland, the incense is cloyingly sweet and overbearing,
the wine pricks like vinegar against his tongue. They test him, check his
body, fingers roughly –but not rough enough to mark- search him toe to
crown, watch on as they tell him to stretch and bend, to prove he can
dance. It’s only when they show him his quarters (questionably not bunked
with anyone else; either they wish to watch him, or the other boys don’t
want to sully themselves with the boy from Masar.) that he breathes easily,
air rushing out heavily as he sinks to the bed. It’s finer linen than he’s used
to, softer than silk against his skin, and it takes him hours upon hours to get
used to the feel of the fabric before he can sleep.

He writes as often as he feels safe, and never rests well after each letter sent.

His dancing improves (a feat he is sure his mother would deny, he thinks
fondly) as he is taught the dances of the nation, with their emphasis on
flexibility and soft arms so different from the natural steps and leaps of
his home.

Everything is an experience, he thinks as the dance teacher’s hand slap
tings his skin for slipping back to improper positions.

When he first meets Kibum, he truly cannot remember; he is sure he is
in the harem gardens or in the golden halls of the Northern Wing, and it
is nothing but a nod a nameless guard gives him as he feels the boy’s eyes
follow him (quite a lot less than what is normal for guards, with their
leers and vulgar comments) as he makes his way.

The second time is much more agreeable. Kibum, he finds out, is a polite
boy and something of a gentleman. He catches him in the gardens, whispers
of summer heat breaking into the spring breeze and warming his unclothed
shoulders, and he can’t help himself from returning a soft hello as the boy
passes by, nor can he the next day, nor the next until he invites the guard to
sit with him and enjoy the blooms of the garden in the soft light of morning.

It continues a few more times –enough time for him to send for and receive
the help of his father- before he really speaks to Kibum. They keep their tone
light despite the nature of their discussions, and he plans his wording carefully.
He sees something in Kibum’s eyes when he speaks, a sense of need, of right,
of a sore that never healed, and he knows that betrayal does not suit the boy’s
nature.

His mind goes pleasantly blank when Kibum kisses him weeks and weeks
after their first discussion, chaste and brief, and his lips tingle at their first
taste of a true kiss.

He finds it silly, but oh! to be wooed is something new and entirely too
pleasant to stand; he accepts small tokens (sweets, lovely smelling flowers,
a spool of silken thread, verses that leave him blushing from praise) while
soft kisses and embraces are exchanged. Kibum takes him one night, smooth
and excruciatingly slow until he begs for completion and cries out in ecstasy,
and a small part of him feels guilty for this, for using him as an ends to a means
when Kibum brings him joy. An eye for an eye, his mother had lectured to him
when he was naught but a child, voice stern and eyes sparkling with a hidden
story of experience, those who take must have taken from them. He presses the
voice down to the back of his mind as he kisses Kibum’s closed eyelids and slips
into an uneasy rest.

When Heechul comes, he truly believes his lucky knows no bounds, for this
soft, innocent, little peasant with impossible beauty takes the Kings favour will
little more than a glance from his Majesty. The child is silly, trusting in him
freely and soundly, as their friendship grows and he counts it all as a blessing.

What he doesn’t expect, though is the looks Heechul sends to Kibum, the soft
self-conscious switch in body language when the guard is around. He is still
and calm, but his heart seethes at the very thought.

He takes the lead that night, tormenting Kibum in holding him down, bringing
him to the brink of madness and stopping, forcing him to beg, to call out his
name. He takes the satisfaction despite its sour mix with guilt.

It then in turn kills him more when he sees Kibum meet in this subtle dance
of unspoken affection with Heechul. He churns with anger and his heart
throbs with pain. He hates himself for being lovesick and affected, yet finds
for the good of his country, for the good of his mission; he must sit back and
watch as his lover chooses someone else.

Of course, he accepts that it’s retribution for his initial luck that it is with an
ill-heart he must march, as part of the harem, to war on his own country.

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I'm so sorry if that sucked, raiknii, and didn't really mess with your verse much because I basically used all the facts you gave??? idek. I fail.