His kidnapper asked stepping towards him slowly, "So, JEON..JUNG..KOOK. Come on tell me your fantasies. How do you like to get fucked? I mean rough, slow. Oh hold on, I think you would fit into BDSM play". He trailed his eyes down to his crotch lust...
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The dim light of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room as Jungkook, a sigh escaping his lips, wrestled with his pillow and blanket. It had been relentless weeks under Kim Taehyung's thumb. Taehyung, who seemed to relish the power his position afforded him, especially when it came to Jungkook. It was a strange dynamic, a constant bickering. Taehyung, with his seemingly inherent need to provoke, and Jungkook, who, despite the irritation, couldn't deny the undeniable pull of Taehyung's presence. A frustrating, confusing attraction.
Every request, every demand, no matter how trivial, had fallen to Jungkook. Rest had become a forgotten luxury, a distant dream replaced by endless errands and silent obedience. Tonight, the simmering frustration finally bubbled over. Feet thudding a rhythm of annoyance against the floor, Jungkook marched towards Taehyung's room, armed with the accoutrements he knew would be requested. Whether truly needed or simply a means to exert control, Taehyung always found something.
He didn't bother knocking, a sharp kick sending the door inward. The scene that greeted him was almost comical. Taehyung, perched against the pillows, bathed in the warm glow of the reading lamp, looked every bit the picture of relaxed composure. Glasses perched on his nose, a steaming mug cradled beside the table, a book open in his lap, covering his lower body with a blanket. The very image of someone completely undisturbed.
Jungkook enter, a silent storm brewing behind his eyes, the pillow and blanket clutched tightly in his arms. The unspoken tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.
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Taehyung glanced up from his book, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as Jungkook filled the doorway. The large head dressing from his injury had been replaced by a much smaller, less obtrusive medical bandage. The bulky walking boot was gone too, and while a slight limp was still evident in his movements, he was no longer confined. Even the wrist brace had been discarded. He looked significantly less like a patient, and more like the subtly arrogant man Jungkook knew.
The sharp snap of the book closing echoed in the sudden silence. Taehyung's arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on Jungkook, an unspoken question hanging in the air. His raised eyebrows conveyed a clear demand for justification. Jungkook, feeling the intensity of that stare, rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flitting anywhere but at Taehyung. The words felt clumsy and inadequate as they finally tumbled out. "Mister...!" He paused, then rushed on, unable to meet the other's piercing gaze. "I come to sleep here."
