undisclosed desires | jikook

undisclosed desires

Jimin undressed slowly, stretching his muscles as far as he could. He had never been so sore in his life. Certainly embroidery and cooking never warranted such arduous toiling.

Having already slipped off his footwear and socks, he untied the knot holding his robe together. Then proceeded to lay it over his horse that stood right next to him.

He couldn’t afford taking chances with his veiled identity. And so he waited until the moon was high in the night sky and the tents echoed with snores, and only then did he make his way to the placid lake by the military encampment. He could have taken a bath during dinner as well, when every soldier sat at least one candle-melt long in the mess hall, but Jimin had wanted to take his time.

His training robes came off next, his bare shoulders bathed by the waxing moon. It was a coincidence that he caught the moon at its peak and he silently prayed his thanks, otherwise making his way to the lake would be too much a hassle.

A chill gust of wind brought with it goosebumps along his skin. He didn’t know why but his heart stuttered in his chest. His horse huffed a breath right in his face and he stroked its head gently, simultaneously trying to settle his own nerves.

“It’s alright, isn’t it boy. Everything’s alright.”

The horse shifted on its hooves, footfalls muted against the soft, damp ground. Jimin clicked his tongue and gentled his voice, willing his horse to quiet down. A moment later, he swept his eyes across the wide berth of the valley. There were mighty trees rooted down, casting natural shadows on every corner. It was a little sinister perhaps but a quick glance told him nothing was out of the ordinary.

He was down to his undergarments already. The first layer, a midlength tunic and pantlette, he removed in haste, which then left him with his bound chest and waist, and smallclothes upon his groin.

Unwinding the bandage had to be the best part of his day. He cried the first few nights at how stifling and restricting it was to move with his torso wrapped so tightly. Their commanding officer was a stern and demanding man. Jimin had been continuously berated for his lacklustre performance, always lagging behind his comrades, so much so he wore them to sleep for a whole week to help ease the transition.

He may be better now, but he would never forget those harrowing days, when Commander Jeon peered into his eyes, scowl as vengeful as a forest fire, alpha pheromones as suffocating as a sack over his head, telling him he was the most wretched soldier he had ever met. Jimin had never in his life wanted more to bow down and submit than in that moment. His parents raised him strong and resilient but he felt like a child, holding back tears and fighting instincts.

His only saving grace was his obstinate nature and thirst to prove himself. While his comrades slept the night away, Jimin tireless worked on his arts, practising his precision and building his tolerance. It was slow moving but he worked his way from being a straggler to progressing towards somewhere near the front of the pack. He may not be the best, he had long accepted that, but he would certainly hold his head high.

His chest bounced out once the bandage unrolled. As a male omega, he did not have an ample bosom, though it was enough to draw attention if left in its natural form. The silhouette of his waist was another dead giveaway, tapered and flaring at his hips, the way every omega looked upon physical maturity. Nary a day went by that Jimin wasn’t awake deep into the night, fearing that someone would eventually catch on. The best he could do was merely to disguise himself with a few flimsy cloths.

When the last of the bandage came away, and his garments stacked neatly over his horse, Jimin finally removed his smallclothes and added it to the pile. He then pulled out his hair tie, feeling his scalp relax as his hair tumbled down to his waist and made his way to the lake, a washcloth in hand.