𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒 || JINKOOK FF

[47]

There’s one thing Seokjin has always been confident about in his life as a Dominant, it’s that he knows how to set a scene . He thinks it’s possibly due to his history as a performer, as a dancer; he’s trained for years in the deep understanding of how performance can impact emotion , both for the audience and the performer.

He needs that tonight, needs the seduction and the romance of a perfect scene to find the confidence to ask the question he’s holding in his heart.

The playroom lights are off in favour of a dozen red pillar candles scattered throughout the space, casting warm flickering light and setting off dancing shadows in the corners. He dragged a few of their larger potted palms down into the basement and set them up in a screen between the lounge and the rest of the playroom, and then set dozens of long-stemmed deep red roses into tall footed vases in the corners of the makeshift space.

A table next to the lounge holds the large silver candelabra set with five white tapers, two white pillars set in a dish, a bottle of massage oil, ice bucket, and a flat, square black velvet jeweler’s box .

But now, the attention to detail he’s known and sought out for, has built a reputation around for over five years, ends tonight, if the evening goes as he hopes. No more messages on FetLife, no more random meetups at parties. No strangers. No flashy last-minute hookups with people he may or may not ever see again.

JUST JUNGKOOK.

Just the idea of it makes him fluttery inside. They’ve had a few weeks now of joyous discovery and rediscovery , of sweet, slow lovemaking and wild, stupid sex, sure , but also of learning to love and live with and around each other. Seokjin learns Jungkook dislikes green peppers and has a weakness for Kdrama; Jungkook learns, to Seokjin’s chagrin, that he’s sucker for classic Hollywood musicals and will put a glass on the side of the sink every single time instead of putting it in the goddamn dishwasher, Jesus, Seokjin, I tell you this every fucking day.

(“You see what stupid shit I put up with, right Jungkook?” Taehyung had said. Jungkook just nodded and smiled and said not a word until he walked into his own kitchen to find three glasses by the sink and “Seokjin, just put them in the dishwasher!” came out of his mouth. Seokjin had collapsed on the sofa with a groan. “From now on I’m just drinking out of the container and fuck both of you ”.)

It’s been a wonderful few weeks. Almost idyllic, even as Seokjin waited and watched Jungkook carefully for any sign that an invitation back to the playroom might be accepted. He was considering just asking outright, wondering if Jungkook could trust him yet or if he even wanted that side of their relationship anymore, when Jungkook had pinned him with those big brown doe eyes and asked him why they hadn’t gone back. As if he thought Seokjin no longer wanted him there.

Seokjin shakes his head as he drapes the lounge with a black sheet. Their time in the playroom is part of who they are, and he was foolish to think it wasn't as important to Jungkook as it is to him. Jungkook is still so new at this, but that doesn't mean he doesn't crave it, need it, like Seokjin does.

He opens the velvet box, and there, nestled against the white satin interior, is the golden choker necklace he bought at Cartier all those weeks ago, still waiting.
It’s perfect, not a smudge or smear making the polished surface, and Seokjin snaps the box closed and puts it back on the table, the butterflies turning into a trickle of nervous fear.

No. No fear. Seokjin knows his beauty, knows his desires and his tastes, knows what he wants. He wants only Seokjin, and he’s going to have him.

       ────────────────────

It's 6:50 P.M., and Seokjin is squirreled away in the downstairs playroom bath. He examines his moisturized face for the sixth time, massages his face out a little more, and checks his black sleevless shirt for stray lint. His black leather Pants fit perfectly, skin light Down to his bare feet, and he fiddles with his swept-back hair, gluing a stray back into the mass of it with a touch more product.