Jungkook
He didn't remember falling asleep.
But he remembered the dream.
Fingers in his hair. Lips at his throat. Teeth grazing skin like a warning—like a promise.
He woke up breathless. Hard. Aching.
The sheets were different this time—dark red, warm, clinging to his skin like they knew something he didn't.
He sat up.
The air smelled like firewood, musk, and… him.
Taehyung.
And the moment Jungkook moved, something tugged at his ankle.
A silk ribbon.
Tied.
To the bedpost.
"What the—"
He yanked free just as the door creaked open.
Taehyung walked in.
Black dress shirt. Gloves. No tie. Neck exposed. Eyes dark.
He didn't smile. Didn't blink.
Just tossed a small notebook onto the bed.
His notebook.
The one Jungkook had rewritten the last few entries in.
Entry #7:Last night, he touched my thigh. I didn't stop him. I wanted more.God, I want him to break me open.I want him to ruin everything.
Jungkook stared at the page—at the tiny smear where a thumb had pressed into the ink.
"That wasn't for you," he croaked.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. "Then don't leave it where I can find it."
"I didn't."
Taehyung stepped closer.
"And yet here we are."
Jungkook stood, fury rushing in to replace embarrassment.
"You keep playing with me. Why? You bring me here, you feed me, you touch me like I'm some… thing. And then you vanish."
Taehyung didn't flinch.
He reached forward, cupping Jungkook's face with both gloved hands.
Soft. Gentle.
Deadly.
"Because I don't know what I'll do if I stay."
"…Try me."
Taehyung's breath caught.
Then—
In one motion, he yanked off his gloves and dropped them to the floor.
And his lips crushed Jungkook's.
This time was different.
It wasn't a tease. It wasn't a warning.
It was a confession.
Tongue, teeth, hands—desperate. Like something had snapped. Like Taehyung had been dying to taste him again.
Jungkook melted into it, fingers clutching at his back, pulling him closer until there was nothing but heat between them.
Until Taehyung's hands slid under his shirt and stopped.
Just rested there.
Not moving. Not taking. Just… holding.
"I hate this," Taehyung whispered.
"Hate what?" Jungkook whispered back, dazed.
"How much I want to be good for you."
He pulled away like it hurt.
And for the first time, Jungkook saw it—
The fear in his eyes.
Not fear of Jungkook.
Fear of himself.
But it was too late.
Because Jungkook stepped forward, took his hand, and placed it over his own racing heart.
"You already are," he said softly.
That night, Taehyung didn't touch him again.
He just held him.
Arms wrapped around Jungkook's waist like a man on the verge of drowning.
And when Jungkook finally fell asleep against his chest, he didn't dream.
Because reality had never been this dangerous.
Or this beautiful.