𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱

ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡ ⓕⓞⓤⓡⓣⓨ

They all turned to him, questions in their eyes. Yoongi was a very mysterious man. He was indeed the one in the group to have such contacts; connections that none of the others could possibly hope to have. The man had been in the deepest and darkest parts of the city; he had probably seen more shit than all of them combined together. He was an intricate and undefinable man; cold in personality yet warm in heart. There was something about him that Jungkook could not quite put his finger on, but he still trusted the man with his life. He had an unbreakable loyalty, and was fascinatingly honest. The man simply had no filter; he said whatever was on his mind without thinking twice.

“What kind of contacts…” Jungkook replied, curious.

“People who could assure our protection, make sure those idiots back off,” the platinum haired man replied, smirking, before pouring more whiskey into his glass.

It was not something Jungkook would have initially wanted to get into, but the situation made it a little trickier. He did not look for fights nor deals; he simply wanted to be left alone with his business. It was the more innocent, naive part of him that thought that. He understood he needed to develop the tougher part of himself, to take means necessary to protect what he had worked hard to build. What they had all worked hard to build, as a team.

“I want to meet with them: make it happen,” he said before standing up. “I will see you all tonight, thank you.”

He left the room without another word, the other men in the room nodding in approval. Yoongi took his cellphone out of his leather jacket, fingers fumbling clumsily on the screen, texting words that made no sense yet were clear enough for his recipient to understand. He had not particularly wished to be in touch with these people any more, but the situation made it that it was necessary. Hoseok also tapped on his phone’s screen, secretly planning another stunt that would be even more incredible than the last. It would take a lot more time, however. Namjoon got up and out of the room, following Jungkook, a couple more basic issues to cover before the night.

Taehyung ran the towel through his damp hair, wiping off any excess water that dripped down on his face and neck. He secured the towel around his hips and walked to his bedroom, scavenging through his closet for that day’s outfit. He did have a specific shirt in mind, yet he could not seem to find it. He frowned and settled for another dress shirt, one practically identical, but it did not fit him quite as nicely as the other. He slipped his arms in, leaving it unbuttoned and hanging loosely on his chest. The towel fell down to the ground as he turned to his bed, where he smoothed out a wrinkle unconsciously.

“Hmm… Did I leave this open?” he asked himself when he noticed the slightly opened drawer of his nightstand.

He shrugged as he opened it, a salacious smile appearing on his face. He took the pictures in his hand, feeling his arousal grow stronger by the second. He laid down on his bed, examining the Polaroids with utmost delight. He remembered that night perfectly; it had been such a new, incredible experience to both him and his lover. Jungkook had been an incredible sport the whole time, and they both discovered they were actually really into bondage. Taehyung had also discovered just how much he loved to take pictures of Jungkook when they were making love; to a point where he had a small collection of racy pictures of him.

He bit down on his lip as he looked at the picture of Jungkook tied up in the red rope, the symmetrical design complementing every curvature of his muscular body. Taehyung had been impressed with his own craftsmanship, as it had only been the third time he had practiced that pattern. Jungkook’s arms were stuck to each other behind his back, his calves restrained to his thighs. He had been completely vulnerable and it had turned on Taehyung in the most twisted way. His gaze went up and he exhaled loudly as he remembered the drool that had seeped from Jungkook’s gagged mouth, the lewd look in his eyes when Taehyung had teased his dripping wet cock continuously, over stimulating him to his breaking point. He looked down as he felt his half-hard cock twitch, but then quickly looked back up when he heard the door creak.

“Mister Kim?” Jimin’s voice echoed shyly.

“Yes, Jimin, come in,” Taehyung answered out of habit.

Jimin entered and cleared his throat when he noticed Taehyung’s naked body exposed, the soft fabric of his shirt hugging tightly the muscles in his arms. He had to remind himself once again of his position, and only after that could he actually focus on what he was going to initially ask his Master.

“Are you embarrassed, Jimin?” Taehyung asked, a faint grin on his face.

Jimin swallowed hard. He could feel his heart beat too quickly and strongly in his chest, threatening to leap out of his throat at any given moment. He felt that if he just parted his lips he would moan out, as one of his wishes had finally come true. Taehyung acknowledging Jimin’s embarrassment to his naked attire was just one step closer to them becoming one: he was sure of that. He was excited yet scared; anxious yet thrilled. It was a mix of emotions too overwhelming to him, but he kept them down as much as he could before locking his gaze with Taehyung’s.

“It’s only a body. You have the same,” the man said in a way that confused Jimin, his attention going back to the Polaroids in his hand.

No. Keep your attention on me, Jimin said in his head, a slight anger building up inside of him. He knew what was on those pictures; and it irritated him greatly that he was being ignored for them. A couple of seconds ago he had felt one step closer, but now he felt four steps back. He had to something, anything, to get his attention back… but what?

“Mine is not as incredible as yours, Sir,” Jimin blurted out, a slight panic in his voice, his cheeks flaring up unconsciously.

He smiled internally when Taehyung slowly looked back up, frowning, intrigued. There it was. The look he craved to stick onto him. The eyes he wanted so badly to be on top of him, staring into the deepest pits of his soul, taunting him, teasing him in the most beautiful way. In that man’s eyes was something magical, something that made Jimin completely bewitched. They spoke for him, and Jimin had his own way of interpreting what he would read in them.

“Thank you, Jimin,” he said, seeming unsure. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“It is truly my pleasure, Master,” Jimin said before thinking; his employer’s nickname he had secretly chosen for him suddenly being spoken for the first time.

Taehyung put the pictures down, the slight grin on his face disappearing. Jimin gulped as he watched him get up and come closer, feeling as if he would faint any time now. Every step the man took was a stab in his chest, a reminder of the mistake he had just committed. The name ‘Master’ had a whole other meaning than simply ‘Sir’; it meant much more than just the title of employer.

“What did you say?” Taehyung asked, arm’s distance from him.

“I⎼ I said⎼ I⎼” Jimin blurted out, panicking.

“What did you call me?” he asked again, this time lower, almost a whisper, as he grabbed Jimin’s face, slightly squishing his cheeks.

His heart stopped. His touch. His skin. On his own. Thoughts scrambled in his mind as all his focus was on the fingers he had yearned to feel for too long, on the enticing smell of the man that had captured his heart and his head. If he had known all it would have taken was for him to speak that word for them to touch, he would have done it sooner. He melted underneath Taehyung’s heated glare, the man’s anger weirdly arousing him.

“M⎼Master…” Jimin answered, breathless, his gaze lost in Taehyung’s.

Taehyung’s hand moved quickly around Jimin’s neck, pushing him back on the wall, a loud sound resonating in the spacious room. Jimin gasped, his lips staying parted as his whole body stiffened in response to the rough touch. He squirmed as they stayed there, silent, unsure where to proceed. Jimin knew he had to be passive in this situation, that he had to let Taehyung realize just how much he truly wanted him. He knew it was in there somewhere, and all it needed was a slight push from him. Now that he had done it, all he could do was wait. Yet, with the furious tone and look Taehyung gave him, he was not quite sure what was going to happen. There were two ways this could go, and one involved his death.

“You want me to be your Master?” Taehyung groaned, fingers tightening around his throat.

“Y⎼yes,” Jimin moaned, his legs barely holding himself up.