Suguru Geto

In your world, kissing was not tenderness.

It was discipline.

A sentence passed by authority. A mark of humiliation. A reminder that even nobles and kings were not above consequence. It was meant to strip pride, to bend will, to make the punished remember their place.

No one sought it. No one wanted it.

Except King Suguru Geto.

And the only one allowed to sentence him was you.

His knight. His advisor. His shield and blade.

And the one person he trusted more than his crown.

⸻

Suguru Geto owed you favors.

Small ones.

Letting you ignore court protocol. Allowing you to stand beside his throne instead of behind it. Pretending not to hear when you interrupted council meetings. Letting you enter his chambers without announcement.

And big ones.

Pulling you from execution when the nobles accused you of treason. Granting you command of his armies. Trusting you with secrets that could shatter the throne. Letting you stand between him and assassination blades.

You had saved his life.

More than once.

And once… you had punished him.

⸻

It had been after he defied the council.

He had spared a rebel commander against their orders. The court demanded discipline. The nobles demanded a public sentence.

Suguru stood before the throne and said calmly, “Then let my knight decide.”

Every eye had turned to you.

Your jaw tightened.

“Kissing,” you said.

A ripple of shock swept the court.

It was considered merciful. But deeply humiliating.

A king brought low.

You stepped forward, took his face in your hands, and ordered, “Lower your crown.”

Suguru obeyed.

You kissed him before the entire court.

It was meant to shame him.

Instead, his breath caught. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you. His eyes darkened with something that was not humiliation at all.

That night, he summoned you and said only, “You carry out sentences far too well.”

You thought he hated you for it.

He never corrected you.

But from that day on, he looked at you like he was waiting for another punishment.

⸻

You never spoke of it again.

Neither did he.

The tension only grew heavier.

You told yourself it was because he despised you.

He told himself it was because you would never want him.

So neither of you said a word.

Until tonight.

⸻

The victory feast lasted far too long.

The wine flowed far too freely.

By the time you escorted Suguru back to his chambers, he was leaning against you, crown discarded somewhere down the hall, dark hair loose around his shoulders.

“You drank too much, Your Majesty,” you muttered.

“Only enough to forget how to lie,” he replied lazily.

That made your stomach twist.

You helped him onto his bed and removed what remained of his royal regalia. He watched you the entire time, eyes heavy-lidded, smile slow and dangerous.

“You’re staying,” he said.

“I’m on watch.”

“Same thing.”

You sat beside him, armor still on, sword resting against the wall.

Suguru shifted closer.

“Do you know how many favors I owe you?” he asked.

“Too many.”

“Not enough,” he said. “You bring me tea when I forget to eat. You stand guard when assassins whisper my name. You argue with me when I’m wrong.” He looked at you. “Those are small favors.”

Your chest tightened.

“And then there are the others,” he continued. “The ones that cost you blood. The ones that made you enemies. The ones that made you stay.”

You looked away. “You never asked me to.”

“I never had to.”

Silence settled between you.

Then he said quietly, “You think I hate you.”

You scoffed. “Kings don’t look kindly on knights who humiliate them before court.”

He turned onto his side to face you.

“You call it humiliation,” he said. “I call it the only time anyone ever touched me like I mattered.”

Your breath hitched.

“That was a sentence,” you said.

“And I’ve never wanted another one more in my life.”

You stood abruptly. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And honest.”

He reached out and caught your wrist.

Not commanding. Not royal. Just Suguru.

“Kissing is supposed to be punishment,” you whispered.

“It’s supposed to break pride,” he said. “But I’ve never had any around you.”

Your heart thundered.

“If I order you to sentence me,” he murmured, “will you obey?”

“You can’t abuse royal law for personal desire.”

His thumb brushed your pulse.

“Then don’t think of it as law,” he said. “Think of it as a favor.”

You swallowed. “What would the charge be?”

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“Disobedience,” he said. “For wanting you.”

Your breath caught.

“You enjoyed it last time,” you accused softly.

His gaze softened. “I’ve been hoping for it ever since.”

Then, barely above a whisper, he said:

“I want you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me until I’m sick of it.”

Your face burned.

Your heart felt like it might tear through your ribs.

You opened your mouth to respond—

And he exhaled.

Long. Slow.

His grip loosened around your wrist.

His lashes fluttered.

And just like that, King Suguru Geto fell asleep.

Right there.

Mid-confession.

Leaving you frozen at his bedside, pulse racing, cheeks burning, staring at a king who would never know what he had just done to you.

You gently pulled your hand from his grasp.

“…Idiot,” you muttered.

But you stayed.

All night.

Guarding a king who never noticed the punishment he’d just given you.