Dreaming of Prince Seodong (Hard Mode Too)

The moment I closed my eyes, the familiar scent of plum blossoms filled my nose. Soft petals drifted down like snow, brushing against my cheeks. I knew this place. It was the dream garden—the one that had been haunting me for weeks now.

I stood barefoot on cool stone tiles, wearing nothing but a thin silk robe that clung to my skin. My heart was already racing. Because I knew he would be here. He always was.

Just once. Just one more time and I'll stop thinking about him when I'm awake. Yeah, right. Who am ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I kidding?

A low, velvety voice drifted from behind the flowering trees.

"You've come again, my beloved."

I turned slowly. There he was—Prince Seodong, exactly as the old legends described him, yet somehow more devastating in the flesh. Tall, broad-shouldered, with long ink-black hair tied back by a simple golden cord. His eyes, dark as midnight pools, fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees weak.

He wore crimson robes embroidered with golden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dragons that seemed to writhe when he moved. The fabric was open at the chest, revealing smooth, sculpted muscle that gleamed in the moonlight. My mouth went dry.

"This is just a dream," I whispered, even as my body betrayed me by stepping closer. "You're not real."

His lips curved into that dangerous smile that always unraveled me. "Real enough to touch you. Real enough to make you scream my name until your voice breaks." He closed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the distance between us in two strides, one large hand sliding possessively around my waist. "Real enough to ruin you for any other man."

His fingers traced up my spine through the thin silk, sending shivers racing across my skin. I tried to remember why this was a bad idea. I was supposed to be a reclusive master in this alternate world of Cheonje. I had responsibilities. A reputation. A harem of beautiful, obsessive women waiting for me back in reality.

But here, in this dream, none of that mattered. Here, I was simply his.

"You've been avoiding me in your waking hours," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot. His other hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "Do you think I don't know how you touch yourself while thinking of me? How you bite your lip to keep from moaning my name?"

Shit. He knows. Of course he knows. This is my own damn dream.

I swallowed hard. "It's complicated out there. The geopolitical situation in the Korean Peninsula is—"

He cut me off with a deep, hungry kiss that stole the air from my lungs. His tongue swept into my mouth like he owned it, like he owned every part of me. When he finally pulled back, my lips were swollen and tingling.

"No more excuses," he growled. The sound vibrated through his chest and into mine. "Tonight, you're mine completely. No holding back."

Before I could respond, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he had me pressed against the ancient plum tree, its bark rough against my back through the silk. His hands made quick work of the robe's ties, letting the fabric slip from my shoulders to pool at my feet. The cool night air kissed my bare skin, making me gasp.

His eyes darkened with raw hunger as they roamed over me. "Beautiful," he breathed. "So fucking beautiful it hurts."

Then his mouth was on my neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks I'd have to hide tomorrow. His hands weren't gentle—they never were in these dreams. They gripped, squeezed, claimed. One hand slid between my thighs, finding me already embarrassingly wet.

"Look at you," he chuckled darkly, sliding two thick fingers inside me without warning. I cried out, hips jerking against his hand. "So eager for your prince. Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your mind fights it."

I grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into the fine silk of his robes as he worked me open with ruthless precision. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me were obscene in the quiet garden. Every stroke hit that perfect spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"Seodong—ah!" His name tore from my throat as the first orgasm crashed over me. My legs shook, but he held me up, murmuring filthy praise against my skin.

"That's it. Come for me. Let me hear how much you need this."

I was still trembling when he spun me around, pressing my chest against the tree trunk. I heard the rustle of fabric as he shed his own robes. Then the blunt, scorching heat of his cock was sliding between my cheeks.

"Tell me you want it," he demanded, one hand fisting in my hair while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. "Beg for your prince's cock like the desperate little slut you become in my dreams."

My face burned with shame and arousal. But the words spilled out anyway. "Please... I need you inside me. Fuck me, Your Highness. Ruin me."

With a satisfied growl, he thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. The stretch was overwhelming, bordering on pain, but so good I saw white. He didn't give me time to adjust—just started pounding into me with deep, punishing thrusts that made the plum blossoms rain down around us.

"So tight," he groaned, teeth grazing my shoulder. "This perfect hole was made for me. Say it."

"It's yours," I gasped between moans. "Only yours—ah, fuck, right there—"

He angled his hips and hit that spot inside me again and again until I was sobbing with pleasure. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the garden. His hand reached around to stroke me in time with his thrusts, driving me toward another shattering climax.

"Come again," he ordered, voice rough with his own impending release. "I want to feel you clench around me when I fill you up."

I came with a broken cry, vision whiting out as pleasure tore through every nerve. He followed moments later, burying himself deep and flooding me with hot pulses of his release. The sensation pushed me into a third, smaller orgasm that left me limp and boneless in his arms.

We stayed like that for a long moment, his body covering mine, both of us breathing hard. His lips brushed softly against my temple—such a tender contrast to the way he'd just fucked me senseless.

"Don't run from me in the waking world," he whispered. "I know who you really are, Han Young-hoo. The reclusive master. The one who possesses bodies across time. But in here... you're simply mine."

My eyes flew open in shock. How did he—?

But the dream was already fading. The plum blossoms dissolved into darkness as consciousness pulled me back to reality. I sat up in my bed, heart hammering, body covered in sweat and... other evidence of what had just happened.

I touched my neck and winced. The marks were real. They always were.

"Fuck," I muttered, falling back against the pillows. "This is getting dangerous."

Because if Prince Seodong knew my true identity... then these weren't just dreams anymore. They were something far more complicated. And far more addictive.

I closed my eyes again, already knowing I'd return to that garden tomorrow night. Hardcore or not, I couldn't stay away.

I stared at the glowing notification only I could see, hovering in the air like some kind of cosmic pop-up. Great. Just what I needed—another complication in this already insane alternate history version of the Korean Peninsula.

But as I traced the bite mark on my neck, feeling the pleasant ache between my legs, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. Not yet.

"Tomorrow night," I whispered to the empty room. "We'll settle this, Your Highness."