28
Third Person Pov
The mansion doors opened with a low creak as the CEO stepped inside, Taehyung limp in his arms. It was barely 5 a.m..
.. the sky outside still dark, the last traces of night clinging stubbornly to the world.
The marble floors reflected the faint golden light from the chandeliers above, cold and silent, echoing with each step Jungkook took.
The guards stationed at the entrance straightened instantly, eyes widening at the unusual sight of their employer carrying a figure so delicately, almost protectively. Yet none dared to question. They lowered their gazes in silence, letting the image burn quietly into their minds.
Jungkook’s expression remained carved from stone. His steps were steady, deliberate, carrying Taehyung through the grand hallway until he reached a room. Without shifting the weight in his arms, he pressed his foot against the door, nudging it open. The hinges groaned softly, and he stepped inside.
He crossed the room and lowered Taehyung onto the bed. For a fleeting moment, his hand lingered against the younger’s shoulder, brushing against the softness of his clothes, before he straightened, eyes falling into their usual cold, unreadable mask.
From the doorway, Mr. Haenam had been watching in silence, his sharp eyes observing the scene without a word.
A glance was enough; then he disappeared down the hall, only to return moments later with a tray---cold compresses neatly folded, a few medicines arranged with precision, and a jug of water resting beside a glass.
Jungkook’s eyes didn’t leave Taehyung’s face. They were dark, unreadable, yet fixed with a sharp intensity that seemed to cut through the dimly lit room. His gaze followed every shallow breath Taehyung took, every faint movement of his lips as though he were holding on to proof of life.
Mr. Haenam placed the items carefully on the bedside table, his movements quiet, respectful. Then, without asking, he reached for the cold compress, ready to tend to the boy. But before he could, a hand rose...Jungkook’s hand.
The CEO extended his palm, fingers steady, commanding without a word. The air itself seemed to pause.
Mr. Haenam froze, glanced at Jungkook, then at the unconscious Taehyung, before silently placing the compress into Jungkook’s hand. He gave a low, respectful bow and retreated without so much as a question, the sound of his footsteps fading into the long hallway.
And so, the room was quiet again. Only Jungkook remained standing there in the pale light, holding the compress, his sharp eyes never straying from the boy on the bed.
Jungkook pressed the cold compress gently against Taehyung’s flushed skin, his jaw tightening as he felt the fever burning beneath.
He reached for the medicine, shaking a tablet into his palm, then cupped Taehyung’s face firmly, forcing his lips apart. Without a word, he placed the pill on his tongue, tilting the glass to his lips until he swallowed.
Once done, Jungkook pulled the blanket over him, tucking it securely around his frame as if sealing him away from the world. Taehyung’s clothes were dry now, his breathing steadying, but Jungkook didn’t look at him again.
Instead, he sank into the chair by the bed, head tipping back, eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling.
The room was silent, save for the low hum of the heater.
The faint orange glow bathed the walls in warmth, but Jungkook sat unmoving, his expression like a statue guarding a boy he refused to get soft for.
But even as he forced his gaze upward, trying to fix it on the blank ceiling, the image of Taehyung’s face refused to leave him.
Those tears uninvited, relentless still clung to his mind like shadows that wouldn’t wash away.
The sound of his voice, cracked and trembling, replayed with a cruelty of its own.
Broken. Shattered. Each word Taehyung had managed earlier was like an echo lodged somewhere deep in Jungkook’s skull, ricocheting until silence became impossible.
He dragged in a slow breath, chest rising heavy, as though the air itself resisted him.
His jaw tightened, muscles shifting under his skin, a vain attempt to fight the unrest clawing through his mind.
He didn’t want it... the memory, the voice, the face.
Yet it clung, stubborn, as though the very act of shutting Taehyung out only made his presence louder.
The armchair beneath him felt both suffocating and cold, his body caught between wanting to rise and flee or sink deeper into stillness.
The heater’s low hum filled the room, steady and merciless, and for a moment it was the only sound pulling him away from those echoes.
Still, his shoulders felt heavy, his temples tight, his eyes stinging with the burn of fatigue.
Slowly, Jungkook let his eyes fall shut.
The darkness came fast merciful in its silence, brutal in its grip.
It swallowed the remnants of the room, devoured the fragments of Taehyung’s cries, though they remained, lingering in the marrow of his mind.
And as sleep pulled him under, Jungkook knew those sounds, that face they weren’t gone.
They had consumed him more than he would ever allow himself to admit.
.
The CEO’s ears caught the faint rustle from outside the room.
He glanced at the clock--- 12 P.M. The harsh midday sun spilled through the mansion windows, painting the floor in muted gold.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the bed where Taehyung lay, still wrapped in blankets, the rise and fall of his chest steady but fragile.
For a moment, he stayed, then pushed the thought aside.
Jungkook rose, moving silently across the polished floor.
His steps were precise, controlled, as he left the room and entered the hall.
There, standing in the sunlight that spilled through the tall windows, was Gyubin.
The boy’s small frame trembled, almost on the verge of tears, eyes wide as they fixed on Jungkook.
Gyubin froze when he saw him. For a moment, there was only the sound of his own heartbeat in the silence between them. Then, slowly, he took a step forward, uncertain, voice barely above a whisper.
“Where’s Appa?” he asked.
Jungkook’s gaze remained steady, cold, unyielding. “Sleeping,” he said simply.
A wave of relief washed over Gyubin. He exhaled shakily, shoulders sagging just a fraction. “Is he sick?” he asked, curiosity edged with concern.
Jungkook hummed, a low sound that carried no reassurance, only the barest acknowledgment. Gyubin tilted his head, looking past him toward the room he had just left, then moved toward the door Jungkook had come through.
As Gyubin approached, his eyes caught on the figure in the bed---Taehyung. The younger man’s chest rose and fell steadily, his hair tousled, blankets wrapped around him, a fragile picture of vulnerability that made Gyubin pause.
The boy’s small hands fidgeted nervously at his sides as he took in the sight, sensing the quiet, fragile peace that had finally settled over Taehyung.
.
.
Evening had fallen, and the soft golden light of the setting sun filtered through the mansion windows.
Taehyung’s eyelids fluttered open slowly, the world around him hazy, each movement sending a dull throb through his skull.
His head felt impossibly heavy, as though every nerve in his body had been weighed down by the day’s chaos.
A gentle warmth brushed against his cheek. His eyes focused, and for the first time in hours... he saw something familiar. Gyubin. His son. The worry etched into the boy’s young face made Taehyung’s chest tighten.
“Appa…” Gyubin whispered softly, voice quivering, as if afraid to break the fragile moment.
Taehyung blinked, struggling to sit upright. “Binnie…” he murmured, the word catching in his throat. He reached a tentative hand toward his son.
Without a word, Gyubin handed him a glass of water that had been placed on the bedside table.
Taehyung took it gratefully, letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat.
The room felt impossibly warm, the blankets cocooning him, the soft light making the space feel almost like a sanctuary.
It was too cozy, too peaceful, compared to the storm he’d endured, and his chest ached at the contrast.
Gyubin didn’t speak, just eased closer, slipping into Taehyung’s side. Taehyung’s arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close as if trying to absorb all the small, living warmth that his son radiated.
“I… I was scared,” Gyubin admitted quietly, voice muffled against Taehyung’s chest. “You… you didn’t open your eyes.”
Taehyung pressed his cheek against Gyubin’s head, closing his eyes briefly, letting the tension in his body ebb just a fraction. “I’m here now,” he whispered. “I’m… okay.”
Gyubin didn’t respond with words. Instead, he snuggled closer, seeking the safety of his father’s embrace, and Taehyung held him tighter, feeling the fragility of the moment, the weight of their bond.
There was silence for awhile and then Gyubin spoke.
“Appa, the peonies are all gone…” Gyubin mumbled, fiddling with the hem of Taehyung’s shirt.
“They didn’t survive the rain last night.”
“Mm? Is that so?” Taehyung asked softly, glancing down at him.
Gyubin pouted, eyes wide and troubled. “I saw it myself… they all drooped.”
Taehyung chuckled under his breath, stroking his son’s hair. “Flowers come and go, Binnie. Don’t worry, we’ll make them bloom again together.”
“But… what if they never come back?” Gyubin whispered, his small hands curling tighter into the fabric.
Taehyung crouched down to meet his eyes, his smile calm but tinged with a quiet ache. “Then we’ll plant new ones. Sometimes, what fades makes space for something even more beautiful.”
Gyubin blinked, tilting his head. “Like… us making a garden again?”
“Exactly,” Taehyung said, tapping his nose lightly. “Together.”
The little boy’s pout lifted into a shy grin, and he nodded quickly, almost relieved. “Okay, Appa. Let’s make them bloom again.”
Taehyung watched his son’s smile, and for a moment, he thought of all the storms he himself had endured. Just like the flowers, he had withered once… yet here he was, holding onto the small hands that made him bloom again.
Taehyung let his eyes fall shut, lashes brushing against his cheeks as a tired sigh slipped past his lips. He didn’t care where Jungkook was. Neither did he want to know.
For now, he only wanted stillness. The quiet hum of the rain against the windows, the faint creak of the floorboards in the distance, the warmth of Gyubin’s small hand clutching at his shirt those were the only things that mattered. His world had shrunk to this room, this bed.
.
.
.
The CEO stepped into the KIM mansion, his presence commanding the silence to bow before him. The guards immediately dropped into a deep, reflexive bow, eyes lowered, their movements careful as if even the slightest misstep might draw his wrath.
Jungkook moved with the same quiet confidence, his hands buried in the pockets of his long coat, the sharp click of his shoes echoing faintly across the polished marble floor.
He found Seokjin in his bedroom, reclining on the bed with one arm bandaged neatly. The older man’s eyes flicked up at the sound, sharp and calculating, taking in Jungkook’s deliberate approach. A faint smirk tugged at Seokjin’s lips, his calmness like a shield he’d worn all his life.
“Must’ve hurt,” Jungkook said casually, though his tone held an undercurrent of ice.
Without waiting, he dragged a chair to the side of the bed and eased himself into it, legs spread, posture loose but every movement measured. His dark eyes flicked to the bandaged arm, then back to Seokjin, as if savoring the sight of his cousin’s discomfort.
Seokjin’s exhaled . “Work on your target,” he said, voice steady, almost teasing, though the weight behind the words was palpable. “It should’ve been my chest.”
Jungkook hummed, leaning back in the chair with deliberate ease.
“I shot where I wanted to,” he said smoothly, letting the words hang in the thick air between them. His gaze narrowed, sharp, piercing, fixed on Seokjin as if seeing through the older man’s carefully constructed composure.
Seokjin’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and calculation as he leaned back slightly on the bed, the bandaged arm resting limply on his chest.
“Shooting me… for someone who’d only be with you for some months,” he said softly, almost teasingly, “now that’s… interesting.”
Jungkook said nothing. Not a word. His dark gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the ceiling, unreadable, calm. The quiet was heavy, suffocating, yet deliberate like a predator allowing the prey to squirm beneath its stare.
Seokjin tilted his head, a faint curl at his lips. “When did you start getting so… affected?” he asked, voice low, measured, probing, carefully stepping into dangerous territory. He could feel the tension tighten in the room.
Seokjin’s smirk deepened. He knew he’d hit a nerve. Oh, he knew. The way Jungkook’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, the way his eyes flicked away, sharp and precise... it all screamed the truth he wouldn’t admit.
“Are you… perhaps in love?” Seokjin murmured, letting the words linger like smoke curling in the dim room.
Jungkook finally glanced away, the slightest flicker of something unspoken crossing his sharp features. His silence answered Seokjin more than words ever could.
Seokjin’s lips curved into a slow, almost cruel smile. “He’ll be gone in a few months,” he said softly, as if revealing a secret. “Let’s see… if by then, you still get to claim him.”
The air thickened instantly, tension coiling tighter than steel. Jungkook’s eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked back to Seokjin. No words, no movement just the weight of a presence that seemed to fill the entire room, cold and unyielding.
Seokjin leaned back, satisfied, letting the challenge hang in the air, like a silent warning that even time might not bend to Jungkook’s control.
“If I don't get him…” Jungkook’s voice was low, deliberate, each word slicing through the quiet like steel, “…neither will you.”
His dark eyes locked on Seokjin, cold and unyielding, unflinching under the subtle smirk the older man tried to hide.
Seokjin exhaled softly, closing his eyes as if brushing off the threat. “We’ll see,” he murmured, a teasing lilt lingering in his tone, almost dismissive.
But there was an undercurrent he knew Jungkook’s words weren’t empty.
Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving his cousin. The silence stretched, heavy, charged, like the air itself was holding its breath.
Slowly, Jungkook closed his eyes, a faint tension in his jaw betraying the calm he tried to wear.
Seokjin’s face softened, just slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he thought of the shy smile that occasionally graced Taehyung’s lips... so different, so gentle, so fragile.
Meanwhile, Jungkook’s mind was a storm. The image of Taehyung teary eyes, trembling lips, the broken, desperate voice from earlier filled his thoughts, sinking deep into the corners of his mind.
Both men were lost in the same name, the same boy, but in completely different ways. Seokjin with a calculating, teasing fondness, Jungkook with possessive, painful obsession.
The room was quiet except for their measured breaths, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down like stone.
Neither spoke for a long moment, yet Taehyung’s presence---his shy smile in one mind, his teary, broken face in the other---dominated them both.
.
.
It was night. The soft hum of insects filled the yard outside, a quiet, steady rhythm that seemed to lull everything into peace.
Inside, Taehyung slept with Gyubin curled beside him, the warmth of the blanket and the soft rise and fall of his son’s chest a rare comfort.
Everything was still. Everything was calm.
Until the subtle creak of the door.
A pair of polished shoes stepped lightly into the room, each footfall deliberate, measured.
The sound was almost imperceptible at first, swallowed by the night, but enough to make the air shiver with tension.
The figure moved forward, shadows stretching across the floor, until he stopped just behind the sleeping form of Taehyung.
Jeon Jungkook.
Dark hair fell over his eyes, his black shirt and trousers blending seamlessly with the night. For a heartbeat, he simply stood there, silent, surveying the boy who had so thoroughly captivated his mind, whose presence both infuriated and obsessed him.
Then, without a word, his hands moved. Taehyung’s eyes shot open as he felt himself lifted effortlessly, heart hammering, a scream dying on his lips.
“What—” he began, only for a finger to press firmly against his lips.
“Shh,” Jungkook murmured, voice low, velvet-dark, a whisper that carried both command and warning. His eyes flicked briefly toward Gyubin, sleeping peacefully, and then back to Taehyung.
Swallowing hard, breath hitching, Taehyung’s fingers found the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt. He gripped it instinctively, a mix of fear and resistance.
Jungkook’s arms held him securely, lifting him with effortless strength, every movement precise, every inch calculated.
Taehyung’s heart raced. His body trembled not from the night chill, but from the overwhelming presence of the man holding him.
The night, the insects, the peaceful room they all vanished, leaving only the suffocating closeness of Jungkook, the heat radiating from him, and the undeniable tension coiling tight between them.
Taehyung could smell the faint, sharp trace of alcohol clinging to Jungkook.
As Jungkook stepped out of the room, Taehyung wriggled against him instinctively, hands clawing at the front of his shirt. “What… what do you want now?” he hissed, voice low and sharp, laced with frustration and a trace of fear.
His eyes flicked to the bandage wrapped around Jungkook’s hand, but he ignored it, focusing instead on freeing himself.
“Put me down,” Taehyung demanded, jaw tight, knuckles white as he gripped the fabric.
“Quiet,” Jungkook said simply, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for argument. There was a dangerous calm in it, the kind that made Taehyung’s chest tighten even further.
Taehyung gritted his teeth, folding his arms over his chest in defiance, but the effort was almost comical against Jungkook’s strength.
Every muscle in his body screamed to break free, yet every step Jungkook took upstairs was a reminder that resistance was futile.
Jungkook kicked the door shut with his leg, carrying Taehyung straight to the bed. He set him down, but the moment Taehyung’s feet touched the mattress, he scrambled back, ready to bolt.
Before he could make it away, Jungkook’s hand shot out, gripping his ankle and yanking him back with ease.
“Leave me,” Taehyung snapped, breathless, his voice laced with panic.
Instead of answering, Jungkook’s free hand moved to his belt. The metallic click of a buckle filled the room.
Taehyung froze. His eyes widened as Jungkook slid the belt free in one swift motion. “W-what are you doing—”
The question cut off in a hiss as Jungkook pulled his legs closer, the leather coiling against his skin.
Taehyung gasped, thrashing. “Don’t—let go!”
Instead, Jungkook pressed him down by the thighs, forcing his legs still.
His palm came down, a sharp smack against the soft skin of Taehyung’s inner thigh. Taehyung flinched, biting back a sound, his eyes snapping up in disbelief.
"Stay still." Jungkook muttered darkly, looping the belt around his ankles. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, each tug pulling the leather tighter.
“Y-You can’t just—!” Taehyung struggled, wrists pushing against the sheets, but the more he kicked, the tighter Jungkook cinched the belt.
Jungkook straightened, towering over him, his chest rising and falling calmly while Taehyung’s eyes were wide, teary, his breath shaky.
“You look better like this.” Jungkook drawled, tilting his head, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip.
Taehyung shook his head, cheeks flushing. “Y-You’re insane…”
Jungkook leaned down slowly, his hand gripping Taehyung’s chin, forcing his teary gaze to meet his own. His voice dropped to a husky whisper that crawled down Taehyung’s spine.
“Insane? Maybe. But you’ll learn… the more you fight, the tighter I’ll hold you.”
His thumb brushed across the damp corner of Taehyung’s mouth, his eyes burning into him.
“And when I’m done with you, you’ll beg me not to let go.”
Jungkook’s gaze was unrelenting, heavy and dark as his thumb dragged lazily across Taehyung’s bottom lip. The touch was slow, deliberate, almost reverent, but his eyes carried nothing soft. They pinned Taehyung in place, stripping away any air left in his lungs.
“What do you want?” Taehyung whispered, his voice barely audible, but Jungkook caught it instantly.
“I want to have sex with you.” Jungkook said, blunt and sharp, no hesitation, no wavering. His voice was low, the kind of tone that curled heat in the pit of Taehyung’s stomach.
Taehyung’s eyes widened, his breath stuttering. “W-what?”
A slow hum rolled from his throat as though Taehyung’s reaction amused him. Entertained him.
“You heard me.” His thumb pressed a little firmer on Taehyung’s lip, tracing the soft curve, smearing the faint moisture left there.
Taehyung froze, his pulse thundering so hard he could hear it in his ears. Jungkook’s gaze dropped from his wide eyes to his parted mouth, and his tongue flicked briefly across his own lips as if tasting the idea already.
When Jungkook leaned in, the air thickened. Taehyung’s lashes fluttered, panic and heat colliding inside him, and at the last second, he turned his face away, breath shivering out.
Jungkook paused by his cheek, lips hovering so close Taehyung could feel the ghost of his warmth. His chuckle was low, dark, vibrating against Taehyung’s skin.
“Look at you… trembling like I’m about to devour you.” His bandaged hand shifted from Taehyung’s lip to his jaw, tilting it just slightly. “Maybe I should.”
Taehyung’s hands clenched into fists against his sides, his voice weak. “You’re drunk…”
“I’m sober enough to know exactly what I want.” Jungkook’s breath brushed against the shell of his ear now, deliberate, hot. “And right now, it’s you under me… squirming, gasping, begging for more.”
Taehyung shuddered, eyes screwed shut, goosebumps arising at those filthy words.
Jungkook’s hand slid around Taehyung’s nape, tugging him forward with an ease that made Taehyung stumble into his chest.
The soft thud of their bodies meeting made Taehyung’s palms instinctively press against Jungkook’s firm chest, trying to create some space but Jungkook didn’t let him.
His dazed, dark eyes burned through Taehyung, hooded yet sharp, as if he’d already made the decision for both of them.
Without warning, Jungkook leaned down, his lips grazing just above Taehyung’s own, and he let the tip of his tongue drag lazily across Taehyung’s bottom lip.
Taehyung’s breath hitched. His whole body froze.
A low hum escaped Jungkook, the sound vibrating against Taehyung’s skin, before he gave a second, slower lick purposeful, teasing.
He pulled Taehyung in closer by the back of his head, the grip firm, unyielding, before finally crashing his lips against Taehyung’s trembling mouth.
Taehyung’s eyes widened. He didn’t kiss back. His hands on Jungkook’s chest shook, torn between pushing him away and clutching onto him.
Jungkook smirked against the stillness of his lips, pulling back just a fraction. His gaze locked on Taehyung’s wide, stunned eyes. His thumb brushed slowly across Taehyung’s jawline, voice dropping to a husky whisper that brushed against his lips.
“Don’t just sit there. I know you want it.”
Jungkook’s lips curved, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in close.
“One kiss won’t cost you your self-respect.” he murmured, his breath teasingly brushing against Taehyung’s lips.
Taehyung shook his head firmly, refusing to meet his eyes. “Get your hands off me.”
Instead of retreating, Jungkook’s hand slid higher, fingers brushing against Taehyung’s inner thigh with deliberate slowness. The touch burned through the thin fabric, making Taehyung suck in a sharp breath he couldn’t quite suppress.
Jungkook’s brow quirked. “Bold, aren’t you---telling me what to do?”
Taehyung clenched his jaw, turning his face away, but the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him. He could feel Jungkook’s eyes drinking in every flicker of hesitation.
Without warning, Jungkook’s fingers gripped his chin, forcing his face back. His hold was firm, leaving Taehyung no room to escape.
Their eyes locked for a split second before Jungkook’s lips crashed against his, rough and unyielding.
Taehyung pressed his lips tightly together, refusing to part them. Jungkook only made the kiss more bruising, his grip tightening until Taehyung gasped when sharp fingers dug into the soft skin of his thigh in a hard pinch. The sound was all Jungkook needed.
“Kiss back,” Jungkook demanded against his mouth, voice husky, biting down on Taehyung’s lower lip with just enough force to make him flinch.
Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding wildly. His trembling hands caught Jungkook’s collar. And before he could stop himself, he was pulling him closer, dragging him down until his back hit the mattress.
Jungkook followed, pressing him flat against the bed, never breaking the kiss. His weight caged Taehyung in, dominant, immovable, every line of his body pressing against his resistance until it cracked.
Finally, Taehyung’s lips parted under the pressure. Jungkook wasted no time, his tongue sliding past, tasting, claiming, making the kiss his own.
The sharp tang of alcohol lingered, intoxicating, overwhelming Taehyung until he couldn’t tell if it was Jungkook’s kiss or the heat rushing through his body that left him dizzy.
Jungkook sucked on his tongue, slow but ruthless, dragging a muffled sound from Taehyung’s throat that he hated himself for making. Jungkook's lips curved into the kiss, his dominance absolute.
Taehyung moaned when Jungkook’s fingers slid up his inner thighs, grazing dangerously close to where he was most sensitive. His breath hitched as his legs tried to clamp shut, but Jungkook’s grip was merciless, prying them apart with ease.
“Don’t even think about running,” Jungkook’s voice was a low growl against his lips, hot and commanding. “I’ll take what’s mine, whether you let me or not.”
Before Taehyung could protest, Jungkook’s mouth claimed his, rough and punishing, his tongue forcing its way inside as if marking every inch. Taehyung whimpered into the kiss, his fingers clutching Jungkook’s shirt desperately, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer.
Jungkook broke the kiss only to shove his face into Taehyung’s neck, breathing him in deeply like he was drunk on the scent. His teeth scraped along the tender skin before biting down hard enough to make Taehyung gasp.
Jungkook exhaled, sliding his hand under Taehyung’s shirt, the rough pads of his fingers grazing bare skin, making him shiver.
His fingers pinched Taehyung’s side, making him whimper, before dragging upward until they brushed against his chest.
Taehyung sucked in a sharp breath when Jungkook’s fingers teased his sensitive bud, rolling it mercilessly between his fingers. Taehyung's back arched involuntarily.
“So responsive,” he taunted, lowering his head to suck harshly at the spot just above it.
“Ah—mhmm...” Taehyung gasped, gripping Jungkook’s shirt tighter, his knuckles white from the force.
His head tilted back helplessly as Jungkook’s tongue flicked over his chest before latching on, sucking hard until Taehyung’s body writhed beneath him.
Jungkook let out a low, filthy groan against his skin.
His free hand tightened around Taehyung’s wrist, pinning it down against the sheets when Taehyung tried to shove him away again.
Taehyung’s resistance crumbled under the onslaught, His chest rose and fell erratically, sweat already beginning to form on his skin.
Jungkook’s mouth stayed latched onto Taehyung’s chest, sucking mercilessly at the soft buds until Taehyung’s body arched off the bed.
Every cry that left his lips only spurred Jungkook further, his tongue flicking, his teeth grazing, making Taehyung tremble helplessly.
His tied ankles thrashed against the sheets, the leather belt digging into his skin as though reminding him he couldn’t escape no matter how much he tried.
Taehyung clenched his eyes shut, his voice breaking into soft moans he hated himself for making. And yet, underneath the haze of sensations, last night’s events came crashing back into his mind...the bitter truth he couldn’t run from.
He hated this man. He hated everything about Jeon Jungkook: his arrogance, his coldness, the way he used power like a weapon.
But when those hands touched him… when those dark, domineering eyes bore into his own… it was different. His touches were firm, commanding, almost punishing yet strangely careful, as though Jungkook never wanted to break him completely.
And in the midst of it, Taehyung sometimes wanted to surrender entirely give everything away, every piece of himself, until there was nothing left to give, if only it meant Jungkook would finally leave him alone.
But what did he even have to give this man? His body? His heart? His soul? Would it ever be enough?
Taehyung winced sharply when Jungkook’s teeth sank in harder, biting down on the tender skin of his chest. His eyes flew open, tears spilling out.
“S-Stop…” his voice cracked, heavy with desperation.
The sound froze Jungkook instantly. His lips stilled, his hand loosened against Taehyung’s side. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifted his head only to find himself staring straight into tear-filled brown eyes.
The room went silent. The only sound was their uneven breathing, clashing in the heavy atmosphere between them.
Taehyung’s chest heaved as he searched Jungkook’s face, his voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”
For once, Jungkook had no sharp reply. His jaw tensed, but the sharp, arrogant words he always threw out seemed to abandon him now. His silence was louder than anything.
“A few months,” Taehyung whispered, voice breaking with bitterness, “and I’ll be gone. Out of your sight. Out of your reach.” He swallowed hard, blinking away fresh tears. “And when I leave, I won’t ever come back. Mark my words.”
Jungkook stared at him long, unblinking, his face calm. Then, without a word, he shifted, lowering himself beside Taehyung on the bed.
Taehyung stiffened instantly, eyes widening as he felt a strong arm snake around his waist.
Jungkook pulled him in, close enough that their bodies pressed together, and before Taehyung could even comprehend it, Jungkook buried his face against his chest, shutting his eyes.
Taehyung lay frozen. Shock thundered through his was this… was this man actually snuggling into him?
The infamous ruthless CEO, the man who tied him down, kissed him until he broke, pushed him until he cried was now holding him like a lover? Like someone who wanted warmth?
His throat tightened. Taehyung looked down at the dark strands of hair falling into Jungkook’s closed eyes, then at the bandaged hand that rested against his side.
Slowly, hesitantly, he let his gaze linger on the rough edges of the gauze wondering... why he never complained, why this man was such a contradiction.
Taehyung took a deep breath, his fingers hovering uncertainly near Jungkook’s bandaged hand, grazing lightly over it as if testing reality. His heart raced, his thoughts drowned in confusion.
Life was cruel sometimes especially for people like Taehyung, who were thrown into a pit of darkness with nothing to hold onto, nothing to pull them back.
And in that abyss, Jungkook was the darkness itself, swallowing him whole while Taehyung begged for even a flicker of light. This contract felt less like an agreement and more like a soul-binding curse, draining him piece by piece.
Each day, Taehyung felt himself slipping further away, losing fragments of who he once was.
All he wanted now was for this to end for the chains to break, for him to run so far that even Jungkook wouldn’t be able to catch the shadow of his existence.
Never.