This is in two parts — part two is Kija/Jae-Ha only and is coming soon. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

"Kija."

His eyes were closed. But it was the princess's voice undoubtedly, speaking in a soft murmur.

"Keep your eyes closed," she whispered. Then her fingertip skimmed feather-light across his eyelid and he started. "Do you think you can?"

He nodded, swallowing thickly. He could feel the warmth of her beside him and nothing else. (Though what else was there, truly, other than her?)

"You trust me?" she asked.

It was a tender question while also being unbelievably absurd. There was perhaps no one else he trusted more in the entire world. "Of course, Princess," he breathed.

"Call me Yona," she said, a sweet twist to her tone. "For right now, call me Yona."

He was loath to deny her, but maybe she could tell he disagreed by the sudden thread of tension running up his spine, because she laughed a little. "Or not, if you insist." He felt her lean in closer. He could smell the heat of her skin, the crush of the grass they had spent the last few weeks plodding across. Then something soft brushed his neck. He sucked in a breath when he realized it was her lips.

"Princess?"

She hummed a response. He felt it in his throat.

"Stay still," she said against him. Then her mouth opened and he felt the gentle sweep of her tongue. He moaned. There was the barest of scrapes — her teeth, he realized — and she let out a little noise of apology, the spread of her small hand pressing a comforting blossom of warmth to his chest.

He tried to ask what she was doing, but his voice was beginning to catch in half gasps. She didn't say anything back, her lips just continuing their work, making a mesmerizing and slow journey from near his collarbone up to beneath his ear. Her fingers circled his chest once more, grazing a nipple in a lingering sort of way it was difficult to find unintentional, before her hand slid up to the nape of his neck and curled into the fine hair there.

She pressed the smallest kiss to his earlobe. Her face tilted, but was still close enough he felt her breath against his ear, could feel the tangibility of her words. "Come here."

He made a questioning noise, because how could he possibly get any closer to her — unless she meant he was supposed to kiss her, and the idea stirred searingly hot through him, catching on the heat tightening at the base of his stomach — and though he had already started to tremble, now he could feel it everywhere.

But before he could think to reach for her face, he felt something trail from the inside of his knee up towards his thigh. He flinched, eyes opening.

The princess sighed, laying fingers over his eyes before he saw more than a pinch of red hair. "Oh, I knew it would be too hard. Would you rather I covered them?"

For a second he didn't reply. A writhing sort of uncertainty mingled with the tense feeling coiled in his stomach. He wondered if she would stop what she was doing if he opened his eyes again, and the idea spurred him into an eager nod. He would gladly not see to keep her lips on his skin.

"Lovely," she said. Her finger traced the flare of his eyelashes, a gentle tickle that should have seemed purely innocent and instead just made his mouth go completely dry as he took in yet another heavy breath. Then the cool weight of a cloth settled over his eyes. When she tied it behind his head, the motion was careful, delicate. He could feel every brush as she shifted strands of hair back from tangling into the knot.

And then her mouth returned to his neck. There was the light flick of her tongue against his earlobe, delicate but not at all careful now. He bit back a gasp.

"Keep going," she murmured.

This time he realized the directions were not for him. The fingers that had left his thigh returned, first on one side, then both, fingertips and the short ridge of nails pressing into his skin softly but still enough to feel through the fabric of his robe — and if he'd had any confusion about what exactly was happening, it was undeniable now, because Yona had one hand cradling the crook of his neck and there were two hands on his thighs.

"Who—"

"Isn't it more exciting not to know?" Yona breathed against his ear.

The idea sent a zing of heat rushing through his entire body. It was nearly dizzying without the steadying influence of sight, and even the darkness behind the blindfold spun. He couldn't tell if he liked it or not — either the blindfold or the thought that someone else was touching him when being with the princess was already a novel experience. But he nodded anyways, and was rewarded with another kiss to his earlobe.

One of the hands left his thigh. He felt himself hold his breath. Then the brush of fingers moved to his ankle, and he couldn't hold back a frustrated sigh — which morphed to a groan as the fingers slipped back up to where they had been before, this time dragging his robe with them. He felt Yona reach down and fold the fabric up to puddle around his waist, her fingertips drifting below it to smooth over the angles of his hipbones and the curves of the muscles in his lower stomach. He jerked at her touch. She pressed his hips back to steady with gentle pressure, burying a soft laugh against his neck, and then pulled away a little.

Without her hot skin close to his neck, the cool air came back in suddenly, brushing the wet marks her tongue had left. Tingles raised throughout his skin and he shivered. He could feel the weight of her leaning down over him, the tilt up of the shape settled on the ground between his legs — and then quiet sounds, the feeling of bodies shifting their weight beneath and around him, their skin brushing his, and the sounds — oh. Kija went completely still. The sounds were them kissing.

Yona let out a breathy sigh, leaning back against him, her palm landing on his stomach as if she needed to steady herself. He shivered again, this time from her touch and from the new thought — whoever the other person was, it was someone Yona liked to kiss.

She let out a contented hum, settling back against Kija's side, her fingers returning to his hair. Her other hand dropped to finger the collar of his robe. At the same moment, one of the hands below slipped from its still position at his hips to beneath the draped-up robe entirely. Then it followed the lines of his body top to bottom as if there wasn't a single reason to hurry, fingers tweaking one of his nipples, slipping down the middle of his stomach, trailing over the crease separating his hip from thigh.

If his mouth had been dry before, now it was a desert. His tongue felt like a stone. Every time he closed his mouth, tried to take more than a raspy dry swallow, one of them touched him in some new way and his lips parted into another moan. Like now — Yona's fingers were going beneath the robe too. They found the jut of his collarbone, then curved against every heave of his chest, assuaging and inciting the urgent flutter of his lungs, moving too quick and too heavy now to manage coherent speech.

The hand at his hip was joined by its pair. The two of them floated over the fabric of his loincloth, neither touching him in more than the lightest wisps. His hips twitched forward without a thought.

The hands pulled away.

"Please," he got out through a groan, barely more than a harsh grate of sound, but desperate. He could hear how desperate he sounded. No one had ever touched him like this. He didn't know what would happen if they stopped — and, he realized, as the fingers returned to unwind the twist of loincloth fabric, and lips brushed his inner thigh, he didn't know what would happen if this didn't stop. Even just the idea of not finding out was awful. His hand stretched down, though he hadn't meant it to. But he felt only the silken sweep of hair before Yona pulled away from kissing his neck to click her tongue. "Give me your wrists, Kija."

He gave them. Without pause, though he could feel their tremble as he held them out. Could feel that increase to a shake as his loincloth slid away and the lips traveled from his thigh to newly-unveiled skin.

Yona's fingers closed around his wrists. She lifted them both, crossed to a neat x, to the wall above his head and pinned them there with the weight of her palm. Her other fingertips gently swept over the scales on his one hand before they returned beneath the collar of his robe.

It felt like every inch of him was simmering. He'd catch fire soon enough. The lips below brushed so gently against the side of his cock he almost could have imagined it — well, maybe it might've been his imagination if it hadn't received such an immediate unconscious response, his entire body thrilling to even this lightest promise of touch, the tightness in him reaching such a stretch his nerves were about to start humming.

Yona murmured his name against his neck. Because of the angle she held his wrists at, if he pressed forward even the slightest bit it brought the whole of their fronts together, her breasts a soft weight against his chest, and he would have explored that more, because she clearly wanted him to with the way she was pressing right back into him, but the lips were back against his cock now,and then he felt the dip of a tongue exploring him — abruptly it felt like someone had dumped oil along his entire spine and then set the whole thing ablaze. He could feel himself trembling so hard Yona could only keep her mouth steady on his neck by sucking instead of licking.

And then he went completely still, because now the tongue was swirling around the tip of his cock — he made a sound he'd never heard himself make before, before the slick heat of mouth and tongue descended, lips a maddening pressure as they slipped down his shaft.

He swallowed, mouth working through hot gasps too hurried to bring in air. Yona's lips hovered over his, murmuring wordless affection— or perhaps he was simply so far gone he couldn't even process words — he rocked up, straining to keep his hands where they were and still be able to reach her lips, and when he made the distance, she let out a quiet noise and buried her tongue in his mouth. At the exact same moment, the mouth around his cock began to move in earnest, and he heard the messy wet pops and clicks and himself whimpering through the same haze, the sounds he was making unfamiliar to him, only music to accompany his body hitching into every touch, the cord of his spine tightening, the pressure at the base of his stomach crescendoing, until Yona pressed even further forward, tore his hands from where she'd pinned them to squeeze them around her breasts, her body arching into his. "Kija," she breathed, sweet and fierce.

At that, he could no longer hold back, hips bucking up into the obliging wet warmth, the hands catching his thighs, fingers pressing tight, encouraging, moans coming against his sensitive skin, throat working against him, and he'd never felt anything like this in the entire world, like he was coming apart—

He shuddered into the lips still wrapped around him.

Yona swallowed his every gasp as he came, tension pouring from his body like a taut ribbon releasing back to slack. There was a last stripe of tongue sweeping up his shaft, and then the mouth was gone. Yona's lips tilted away, but before he could give more than a breathless sound of protest, different lips met his.

He could taste himself on them. A moan lingered in his throat, nearly hoarse now from the sounds he'd been making; his hands came up to muscled shoulders and warm skin. Teeth nipped at his bottom lip, tongue twisting with his.

He wanted to pull the blindfold away. He wanted to see both of them, Yona's face, the eyes of whomever had just done that with their mouth. As soon as he had the thought, Yona let out a soft tender sigh. He felt her curls on his neck as her chin came to his shoulder, slender fingers reaching for the tie of the blindfold. Threaded in her voice was familiar affection. "Good job, Jae-Ha."

And then there was a little laugh against Kija's mouth, and it was a laugh he knew, because he'd heard it a thousand times, because it was Jae-Ha's laugh, and then the blindfold slipped from his face, and the eyes he saw were a knowing blue—

He flew up from the bedroll.

He was in the dark. In the tent in the forest in his blankets, or half out of them now, and still he was shaking.

"Kija?"

Jae-Ha. He flinched as if struck, stumbling out his bedroll fully, lifting to unsteady knees. He was unbearably hard.

Beside him, the other men were starting to stir. Jae-Ha's voice was barely more than a sleepy rumble. "You hear something outside?"

"Shut up," Kija hissed back. His mind couldn't make the two moments match, couldn't put together that last fleeting image of Jae-Ha wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes half-lidded and pleasure-bright, with this one here, only a platonic voice in the dark. Even just the sleep-roughened pitch to Jae-Ha's voice burned into Kija's brain, hooked into his still-trembling legs.

For a second Jae-Ha was silent. "Rude. I didn't wake you up in the middle of the night," he said, now sounding fully awake, irritated and sharp. "What, did you have a nightmare?"

"What happened?" Zeno asked around a yawn. Kija could make out the shape of him rising to one elbow in the dark, and, next to him, the curve of Shin-Ah's back in his blankets. "What's wrong?"

"I think Kija had a nightmare," Jae-Ha said.

"I did not," Kija snapped back — though had he, was that a nightmare or something much worse, because it hadn't been bad at all, not until the end, and even then had it really been bad or was it just the surprise of it all—

"—don't usually have nightmares," Zeno was saying. He sounded more awake now too, enough to sound concerned, and it was too much, too much when Kija could still feel the fine beads of sweat wreathing his temples, the lingering desire mixed now with shock — and so he ducked from the tent without another word, ignoring Zeno's soft call and Jae-Ha's muttered annoyance, the way Hak on guard a tree away glanced at him with one eye open, and he strode as far away as fast as he could, until he was alone enough he could grit his teeth and bang his spinning head against a tree, and then again when the first time wasn't enough, trying to whack out an explanation for whatever the fuck had just happened.