35
Third Person Pov
After tossing, turning, and burying his face into the pillow, Taehyung finally sat up with a low groan, his chest tight. He grabbed his phone--2:07 a.m. The glow of the screen made his eyes sting.
He dragged a hand through his messy hair, sighed, and quietly slipped out of bed. The kitten stirred when he stood, its tiny head lifting. Taehyung crouched and stroked its fur gently until it purred back into slumber.
The hallway was silent, the kind of silence that made his footsteps echo louder than they really were. He rubbed at his tired eyes as he climbed the stairs, his body moving before his mind could stop him.
The door to Jungkook’s room creaked slightly when he pushed it open. Darkness swallowed the space, heavy curtains blocking the moonlight.
Only the faintest outline of the man on the bed was visible, broad shoulders, chest rising and falling, sprawled on his stomach, his face hidden in the shadows.
Taehyung’s feet carried him closer until he was standing right beside him. For a moment, he just looked down...looked at the CEO.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Taehyung pressed the back of his hand against Jungkook’s forehead again to check for any improvement. Warm. Better than before, but the fever still lingered. He swallowed, lips parting slightly at the closeness.
Wordlessly, he pulled the blanket higher over Jungkook’s body, tucking it in carefully. His hand lingered at the edge of the fabric before he straightened, ready to leave.
But before he could take a step
A firm grip closed around his wrist.
Taehyung froze.
His breath caught as his eyes darted down, Jungkook’s hand held him tightly, unmoving, like it had been waiting.
The man’s voice didn’t come, but his eyes were open now, glinting faintly in the dark. Cold. Awake. Watching.
And Taehyung realized
He had seen everything.
Every touch, every quiet attempt at care, every second Taehyung thought went unnoticed.
The room was thick with silence, the kind of silence that pressed down on the skin and made the air heavy.
Taehyung stood frozen, his wrist caught in Jungkook’s hand. The grip wasn’t bruising, not yet, but firm, unyielding, like iron shackles disguised as a touch.
He dared to look down, and the sight made him fre3ze.
Jungkook’s eyes, half-lidded from fever, stared up at him from the shadows. They weren’t soft with gratitude, nor glazed with weakness. They were sharp watchful.
“You don’t know how to mind your own business, do you?” Jungkook’s voice was low, hoarse, threaded with exhaustion, yet it carried the same lethal calm he wore in boardrooms.
Taehyung’s lips parted, his pulse hammering against the place where Jungkook’s fingers pressed his wrist.
“I wasn’t…” he managed to whisper, shaking his head lightly, “…I wasn’t doing anything.”
Jungkook’s mouth curved, not into a smile, but something darker. “You were hovering over me. Cleaning me up like I’m some… fragile thing.” His tone was soft, but it cut like glass. “Do I look fragile to you?”
The younger swallowed, his lashes trembling. “You’re sick. I was only—”
“Only what?” Jungkook pressed, finally tightening his grip, pulling Taehyung down just slightly, “Only playing house with me, yeah?"
The words stung, though Jungkook spoke them without raising his voice.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he whispered, his voice breaking against the quiet.
Jungkook’s fever-glazed eyes locked onto him, unblinking, sharp even through the haze. His hand still gripped Taehyung’s wrist like a vice, refusing to let go.
He straighetened up sitting on the bed. Hands still not leaving Taehyung. Taehyung sighed at the stubborness.
“Since you’re so eager to play nanny, start with this—unbutton my shirt.” the CEO ordered, voice deep and hoarse, yet leaving no space for argument.
Taehyung froze. His lashes fluttered as he whispered, “What do you mean…?” His voice cracked, thin.
Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver. “You heard me.”
Taehyung’s body tensed, instinct kicking in as he wriggled his wrist, glaring at the older. “Let me go,” he hissed, trying to pull free.
But the grip only tightened, iron against his fragile skin. How... how was this man still so strong, even burning in fever? Taehyung’s heart raced, panic crawling up his throat.
“Leave my hand,” he repeated, this time softer, his voice trembling, almost breaking into a whine.
And then, everything happened too fast.
With one sharp tug, Jungkook yanked him forward, and Taehyung stumbled helplessly, crashing into the heat of his body. His knees pressed against the mattress, his chest colliding with Jungkook’s. The next second, he was seated firmly on his lap, the older’s palm locked around his waist.
A gasp escaped his lips. His breath hitched when he felt just how hot Jungkook’s body was, heat searing through the thin layers of fabric, suffocating.
Their faces hovered inches apart. Taehyung could see the fever burning in Jungkook’s eyes, the redness rimmed around them, but there was nothing weak about his stare. It was cold, commanding, dangerous.
“Y-you’re burning up,” Taehyung stammered, his lips parting, his chest heaving. He pressed his palms against Jungkook’s shoulders, trying to push back, but the older didn’t budge.
"You’re sick—” he tried again, voice desperate.
“Did I ask for your diagnosis? No. I told you to unbutton my shirt." Jungkook rasped, his breath hot against Taehyung’s skin. His grip on Taehyung’s waist tightened, dragging him closer until not even air seemed to separate them.
Taehyung swallowed, hard. He could feel his pulse hammering against his throat, his body trembling despite himself. He wanted to move, but Jungkook’s hold was unyielding, anchoring him in place.
The room was silent except for their breathing, the ragged sound of Jungkook’s fevered breaths and the shallow gasps slipping from Taehyung’s lips.
Trapped. Burned. Consumed.
And still, Jungkook’s voice came again, low, rough, inescapable.
“Now,” he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly closer, “do as I said.”
“What if I don't?” Taehyung whispered, his voice tight, his eyes wide and shining. He searched Jungkook’s face desperately, as if maybe just maybe he’d find a crack in the armor. A sign of mercy. An agreement.
But there was nothing.
Jungkook tilted his head slightly, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “I didn’t pay you to question me.” His tone was flat, cold, carved from ice.
Taehyung’s chest heaved as anger and helplessness twisted together. He clenched his jaw, biting down the scream building in his throat. This man would never change.
He shifted, attempting to wriggle off Jungkook’s lap, but the CEO’s grip only tightened, unmovable, dragging him back into place. Their bodies pressed flush, and Taehyung felt caged, suffocated.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Jungkook deadpanned, his voice low, lethal in its calmness.
The command sank into Taehyung’s bones, leaving him no room to breathe.
He swallowed, hard. His shoulders dropped in silent defeat, though his heart thundered with fury. With a shaky exhale, he lifted his hands. His fingers hovered for a moment above Jungkook’s chest, trembling, hesitant, as though touching fire.
Then slowly, begrudgingly, he began to undo the buttons of Jungkook’s black shirt. One. By. One.
Each slip of the button felt heavier than the last. His knuckles brushed against Jungkook’s fever-warmed skin, and the contrast between his icy reluctance and Jungkook’s scorching body made his stomach twist.
Jungkook didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. He only leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on Taehyung with an unreadable expression. It wasn’t desire, it was something colder. Possessive. Absolute.
Taehyung’s teeth sank into his lower lip to stop it from trembling. He hated this. Hated the way this man stripped him of choice with nothing but a few words. Hated the way his hands obeyed even as his heart screamed no.
Finally, the last button slipped free. Taehyung’s breath hitched as the shirt fell open, revealing the hard planes of Jungkook’s chest, his skin flushed from fever, his muscles tense beneath the surface.
“Good,” Jungkook murmured, almost lazily. His voice was hoarse, but his tone was still cutting, still commanding.
Taehyung’s eyes burned, his fingers curling into fists as he glared at the man beneath him. For a moment, he wanted to claw at that expressionless face. But instead, he stayed still, caught in the silent war between hatred and helplessness.
Taehyung’s fingers trembled slightly as he slid the black shirt off Jungkook’s shoulders. The fabric slipped down slowly, brushing against fever-warm skin, until it pooled at his waist.
Jungkook didn’t move, didn’t even blink his grip on Taehyung’s waist remained firm, like he was silently daring him to try and run.
Taehyung reached for the small lamp again, flicking it on. The faint golden light spilled across the room, across Jungkook’s bare chest, highlighting the sharp lines of his collarbones, the tension in his muscles… and then Taehyung froze.
His eyes caught the scar again. The same jagged mark along Jungkook’s neck, right where Taehyung had once scratched him. Only now, it was darker. More prominent.
The memory hit him hard, tightening his chest. He quickly looked away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ll… get you something to wear,” he muttered, his voice low, uneven.
For the first time that night, Jungkook allowed his grip to loosen. His eyes stayed on Taehyung, but he didn’t stop him.
Taehyung stood quickly, almost stumbling in his rush to put some distance between them. He walked to the closet, his fingers brushing over rows of neatly arranged clothes until he pulled out a simple black hoodie and full pants. Something warm. Something that would cover the scar.
He walked back, setting the clothes on the bed in front of Jungkook. “Wear these,” he said softly.
Jungkook’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment dark, before he finally stood. He picked up the clothes without a word, his movements unhurried, and walked into the adjoining walk-in closet.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Taehyung let out a shaky sigh, his shoulders slumping. He pressed his palm briefly over his chest, steadying his breath. At least Jungkook was changing by himself now. At least he wouldn’t have to touch him anymore.
The lamp light flickered faintly, catching the abandoned shirt still draped across the bed. Taehyung stared at it, at the faint warmth it carried, at the traces of a man who could burn him alive with nothing but silence.
Taehyung stood there, stiff, his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him, unsure whether to leave or wait for Jungkook to speak.
The door to the walk-in closet clicked open. Jungkook stepped out, hair damp and tousled, hoodie hanging loose over his frame. He ran a hand through his dark strands as though trying to shake off the fever still clinging to him. His eyes, however, were sharp. Too sharp.
He walked towards the bed with slow, deliberate steps.
Taehyung instinctively moved to the side, intending to give him space but before he could take more than a step, a firm hand slid against his abdomen.
Taehyung froze, breath caught in his throat, as Jungkook’s palm pressed lightly but unyieldingly against him. With a steady pull, the CEO dragged him closer.
“Wha—” Taehyung’s voice cracked, confusion flashing across his face, but his protest was swallowed when Jungkook shoved him back onto the mattress.
The air rushed out of Taehyung’s lungs. His wide eyes darted upward only to meet Jungkook’s dark gaze, hovering above him. Jungkook caged him in, one hand pressing into the sheets by his head, the other still firm at his waist.
Taehyung’s pulse hammered. “What… what do you want?” he demanded, his voice trembling despite the glare in his eyes.
Jungkook didn’t even blink.
"A kiss.” he said flatly, blunt and merciless, like he was asking for a pen instead of something that broke Taehyung’s chest wide open.
Before Taehyung could react, Jungkook leaned in, lowering his head...
But Taehyung jerked his face to the side, squeezing his eyes shut.
Jungkook’s lips missed, brushing against the slope of his neck instead. His warm breath fanned against Taehyung’s skin, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.
Jungkook didn’t pull away. Instead, he let his mouth hover dangerously close, his smirk curving against Taehyung’s pulse.
“Already loyal to someone else, yeah?” Jungkook murmured, his tone cold but mocking, each word slicing like a blade.
Taehyung swallowed hard, his fists clenching at the sheets. He could feel that smirk against his neck, sharp, cruel, and too close.
And yet—Jungkook didn’t move away.
The CEO stayed there, lips brushing dangerously close to skin he wasn’t supposed to claim, waiting for Taehyung to crack.
“Or maybe you like him.” Jungkook tilted his head, studying him, eyes sharp enough to cut.
He knew who Jungkook meant. The name went unspoken, but it weighed in the silence like a curse.
“I-I dont,” Taehyung forced out, his voice trembling but steady enough to hold.
Jungkook leaned back, the smirk spreading slow and cruel. “Then let your husband kiss you.”
The word husband landed heavy, a brand, a chain Taehyung couldn’t wriggle out of. His glare hardened, but Jungkook didn’t flinch. He simply studied him like prey that kept forgetting its place.
“You look…” Jungkook’s tone softened mockingly, his lips curling. “Just like that kitten you saved. Small. Fragile. Thinking baring your claws makes you dangerous.”
Taehyung’s teeth clenched. “What do you mean?”
Jungkook’s hand slid upward, brushing over Taehyung’s face. His thumb smoothed over the crease between his brows, slow, deliberate.
“These lines on your forehead,” he murmured, tracing the shape. “The furrowed brows…” his fingers drifted higher, brushing his skin feather-light, “…and these eyes. Angry. Sharp. Like you’re dying to bite me.”
His thumb dragged over Taehyung’s lips, pressing lightly against them. "Go on bite." he whispered. His voice was silk, laced with steel.
Taehyung stiffened, lips parting involuntarily when Jungkook slid his finger inside his mouth. Heat, humiliation, and something darker coiled inside him, but he couldn’t look away. Jungkook’s gaze bored into his, unyielding, almost claiming him silently.
“Bite,” Jungkook repeated, pushing deeper, “Or stay pretty, stay obedient. Your choice.”
Taehyung’s fists clenched, digging into the sheets beneath him. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, fury mingling with shame until, finally, something inside him broke.
He bit down on Jungkook’s finger with everything he had, teeth sharp and unwilling to yield.
A soft hiss escaped Jungkook, a sound that was more pleasure than pain. His body twitched, eyes darkening, a glint of twisted satisfaction sparking in them.
Leaning closer, his lips grazed Taehyung’s ear, warm and dangerous.
“Good,” he murmured, his voice low, dripping with heat. “Finally showing me those teeth.”
Taehyung’s stomach clenched as Jungkook pulled his hand free, lips lingering against his skin, leaving him reeling.
He wanted to just leave, to wipe the taste from his mouth, but Jungkook’s hand immediately cupped his jaw, thumb smearing over his lips, pressing them open again.
The contact was rough, claiming, and entirely without permission.
“That’s the thing about you,” Jungkook whispered, breath warm and fevered against Taehyung’s cheek, sending shivers down his spine. “Even when you fight… even when you think you’re resisting… you always end up giving me exactly what I want.”
Taehyung’s glare wavered. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, rapid, unsteady, betraying him.
Jungkook tilted his head, slowly, deliberately, like he was memorizing every flicker of defiance, every tremble of fear, every bite of submission hidden behind Taehyung’s sharp eyes.
His thumb pressed down on Taehyung’s lower lip, prying it open just enough to assert dominance, to remind Taehyung who controlled this moment.
“You want to know the difference between me and him?” Jungkook’s lips curled into that dangerous smirk, one that made heat pool low in Taehyung’s stomach. “He asks… politely. He treats you gently. I don’t ask... because what’s mine, I take.”
Taehyung tried to look away, tried to muster some control but Jungkook closed the distance with a predator’s grace.
Jungkook’s lips crashed against Taehyung’s, sharp and claiming, leaving no room for hesitation. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was ownership, fierce and undeniable. Taehyung’s eyes flew open, heart thundering in panic.
One hand gripped Taehyung’s jaw, unyielding, forcing him to meet his gaze even through the chaos of the kiss.
The other pressed firmly against his waist, keeping him trapped against the bed, pinned under Jungkook’s weight.
His tongue brushed along Taehyung’s lips, teasing, probing, tasting, demanding attention, drawing ragged breaths from the younger.
“You… you’re mine,” Jungkook murmured against his lips as he pulled back just enough for his words to settle like ice. His forehead rested against Taehyung’s, warm yet possessive. “Even if you fight… even if you scream… every inch of you belongs to me.”
Taehyung’s fists dug deeper into the sheets. He wanted to deny it, Im not yours! But Jungkook’s hand on his jaw, the heat radiating off his body, the weight of his presence, made words impossible.
Jungkook’s finger traced deliberately along Taehyung’s collarbone, inching lower, teasing down to the rise of his chest. His voice was low, smooth, almost predatory.
“Do you feel that?” he murmured. “That shiver running through you? That mix of fear… and something else… desire. And it’s all for me. Every last bit of it. You can’t hide it… not from me.”
Taehyung’s breath hitched, chest tightening as his lips parted. “S–shut up—”
Jungkook’s eyes sparkled with cold amusement. His thumb brushed over Taehyung’s lips again, slow, calculated. “You taste like surrender. And I… I savor every inch of it.”
Taehyung’s knees shook, pulse racing as Jungkook leaned down to press another fierce, possessive kiss to his lips. Jungkook’s silent claim etched into every kiss, every press of his body against Taehyung.
“You-youcan’t do this forever…” Taehyung let out between the kiss, words barely escaping between ragged breaths, lips parting against Jungkook’s.
Jungkook’s lips didn’t move. He held them there, firm, unyielding, claiming every inch of Taehyung, letting the words sink in but making no concession. His thumb pressed gently, possessively, under Taehyung’s jaw, tilting his face just enough so their eyes met, hot, stormy, unblinking.
Taehyung’s wet lips met Jungkook’s again, trembling slightly against the heat that pressed relentlessly from the other man.
“You think you get a say?” Jungkook murmured, voice low, husky, teasing against Taehyung’s lips as he finally pulled just slightly back to press his forehead to his. “I decide how long. I decide everything.”
Taehyung’s eyes widened, heart hammering as he felt Jungkook shift, body pressing closer, lips brushing again not a kiss this time, but a claim along his jaw, neck, a warning of control.
The CEO’s hands moved over Taehyung’s body gripping, teasing. Every touch felt like a circle of fire, leaving Taehyung no space to escape.
Taehyung glared at him, chest heaving, eyes blazing in anger and something else he didn’t want to admit. But Jungkook didn’t relent.
“You can glare all you want, suits you.” Jungkook murmured, voice low, mocking.
Taehyung had enough of that.
“Get off me. Now.” Taehyung’s voice came out sharper than he intended, low but firm, pushing Jungkook with all the strength he could muster.
For a moment, he expected resistance, a glare, a smirk... but to his surprise, Jungkook simply complied. He rolled slightly to the side, allowing Taehyung space to wriggle free.
Taehyung froze for a moment, catching his breath and wiping the wetness from his lips. Jungkook’s face, pressed against the pillow, lifted slowly, dark eyes locked onto him.
Taehyung tried to straighten himself, adjusting his shirt, only to realize that part of it had been trapped under Jungkook’s weight. He tugged it, jaw clenched, while feeling Jungkook’s gaze travel over him like a predator inspecting its territory.
The subtle amusement in Jungkook’s eyes was infuriating, maddening. It was like he was daring Taehyung to challenge him, to test his limits and somehow, he did it without saying a word.
He wriggled the rest of his shirt into place and started toward the door, shoulders stiff, hands trembling slightly with adrenaline and residual humiliation.
“My bad for coming here,” he muttered, voice low, trying to hide the way his pulse was hammering in his throat. His eyes flicked to Jungkook one last time.
Jungkook didn’t move. He remained leaning back, hands behind his head, utterly relaxed, radiating dominance and control. His smirk deepened slowly, deliberately, as if he were savoring this exact moment: Taehyung’s frustration, his rigid movements, the way he kept his gaze from lingering too long.
Jungkook’s stare followed him, tracking each step, every subtle quiver of his body, silently claiming ownership without touching him again.
Taehyung shook his head, forcing himself to keep moving, every nerve in his body on fire. He could feel the weight of Jungkook’s amusement pressing into his back even as he put distance between them.
As he reached the doorway, he glanced back just slightly. Jungkook’s eyes had not left him, dark and fever-bright, burning into his skin.
Jungkook’s voice came then, quiet, low, but cutting through the silence like a blade. “Don’t think this ends here.”
Taehyung froze, pulse spiking. He swallowed hard, shaking his head, forcing himself to step into the hallway.
His heart thundered as he walked away, but even as the door clicked shut behind him, he could feel Jungkook’s presence like a shadow he couldn’t shake, a phantom warmth pressed against his skin.
Even now, Taehyung realized something he refused to admit: Jungkook didn’t have to do anything overt to dominate him. His stare, his smirk, the way he held himself… it was enough to make Taehyung’s pulse race, to make him feel small, defiant, and undeniably alive all at once.
Jungkook closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard, letting the fever ebb into the background. It didn’t matter anymore nothing mattered except the soft weight in front of him, the trembling presence he couldn’t stop noticing.
Those glassy, wide eyes, the ones that always seemed to hold a mix of defiance and fragility, burned into his mind.
The curve of the soft waist pressed against him, every subtle shiver betraying the tension he tried so hard to hide.
The quiver in that voice, the way the hands had shaken when they had brushed his, every tiny motion, it was intoxicating.
“Wildcat.” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. The word rolled off his tongue like a challenge, a claim.
It fit the younger perfectly... fierce yet vulnerable, untamed yet fragile, ready to fight but still yielding in the smallest moments and that wildcat had scratched him more times than he could count.
Jungkook’s fingers flexed, gripping the blanket tightly. He hated that the boy was gone, hated that he couldn’t force that closeness again, hated the emptiness that mocked him in the dark.
The fever flared again, hot and consuming, but this time it wasn’t illness it was longing, frustration, a dangerous need he couldn’t soothe.
“Damn it,” he muttered, voice rough and low.
He lifted his head, staring at the ceiling, imagining Taehyung’s eyes wide, defiant, and somehow trusting all at once.
Every detail burned in his mind. The way he had stiffened under his touch, the faint quiver when he had tried to resist…
it was all carved into him, impossible to forget.
He leaned back again, letting out a slow breath. Alone, yes... but not empty.
Taehyung’s presence lingered in every corner of the room, in every shadow, in every heartbeat.
And Jungkook knew, with a certainty, that no amount of distance would erase that wild, untamed pull, the wildcat had left its mark, and he was far from done thinking about it.