Archive of Our Own

The left earpiece buzzed with static.

Jungkook adjusted the connection and turned his head slightly, quickly scanning the rooftop. Two side exits, four access points to the building, at least three areas with limited visibility due to the decoration. People everywhere, but nothing out of control. So far.

He wore a perfect black suit, a discreet earpiece and mic, and that straight attitude of someone there to protect, not to play. He didn’t drink. He didn’t smile.He never took his eyes off the perimeter.

“Unit 17 in position, covering north entrance. Waiting for main subject,” he reported over the internal line.

“Copy. Mr. Kim hasn’t arrived yet, right?” someone from the tech team asked.

Jungkook checked his watch. He was ten minutes late.

“Negative. No visual contact yet.”

Not that it was surprising. Since he got this mission—a last-minute replacement for a colleague who had “ quit unexpectedly ”—he kept hearing the same things: “ Be ready. ” “ He’s impossible. ”  “ He doesn’t follow rules .” “ You’ll last one night if you’re lucky. ”

Kim Taehyung.

Model, artist, actor, idol.

And, according to most of the security staff who worked with him, a real headache. 

Not because he was rude—he wasn’t. But because he was unmanageable. He’d appear and vanish at will, speak in riddles, disappear into crowds, push limits, and had this unnerving ability to make anyone drop their guard. Men, women, armed personnel—no one lasted. No one came out the same.

“It’s like working for a mirage,” one of the ex-guards had told him with a nervous laugh. “You really think you’re watching him… until he’s gone.”

And yet, there was Jungkook, standing in a strategic corner of the rooftop, under soft blue light, waiting to meet the myth in real life.

As the new guy and the replacement, he got the fieldwork. While the others stayed in controlled zones, he had to be the idol’s shadow. A mission that sounded simple enough on paper.

The event was a fever dream of luxury. Open sky, music thrumming in his ribs, guests who looked more like art pieces than people. Champagne spilling into long-stemmed glasses, designer clothes, laughter that knew exactly how to sound intriguing. And it all revolved around one figure who had yet to appear.

Until the lights went down.

The DJ—J-Hope, no less—changed the rhythm. The beat hit down Jungkook’s spine like a punch.

“You are now… Tuned in… To the one and the only… J-Hope.”

A white spotlight swept the rooftop’s main entrance.

“You killin’ it, girl. You killin’ it, girl…”

And like everything was choreographed, Taehyung appeared.

He walked like the world was too slow for him. Black silhouette against the light, dark glasses even at night, shirt open showing part of his chest, soft pants that moved like smoke.

And the face. That damn face.

Jungkook felt—without exaggeration—his heart physically jolt in his chest. Because the stories weren’t overblown. It wasn’t hype. It wasn’t fame. 

Taehyung walked in, and the air changed. Not because he demanded it. Because it was inevitable.

Each step he took followed the song. Like he had written it. Like they were singing it about his skin.

“Ten out of ten, oh, you killin’ it, girl, baddest of your friends, oh, you killin’ it, girl…”

And no one dared stop his entrance.

Jungkook didn’t, either. He froze. Hands steady, body straight, but eyes locked. He wasn’t a fan. He wasn’t there to admire or to follow beauty or fame. But in front of Taehyung, his heart pounded with something unfamiliar. He didn’t know if it was danger, excitement, or some impossible mix of both.

The rumors were true. Taehyung was not a myth. He was a hurricane . And Jungkook was standing right at the center of the storm.

In that moment, he knew two things: One, it was true, no one could protect something like that without losing control. And two, this night was going to be really damn long.

“Baddest out your friends, oh, you killin’ it, girl”

Taehyung wasn’t in a hurry.

He walked with the confidence of someone who knows he is the center of the universe, smiling playfully at friends, assistants, and curious people. His presence seemed to pull the energy of the party toward him, like a magnet that turned heads without even trying.

Jungkook watched him from his position, eyes focused but muscles tense. He wasn’t going to lose sight of him. That was his job. Nothing more. There was no room for distraction.

But it was impossible not to notice how Taehyung ignored the bodyguards who followed him from a distance, that invisible line of safety Jungkook had to keep. It looked like a game to him: walking just outside the safe zone, testing the limits. 

“All without a man, oh, you killin' it, girl”

With every step, Taehyung raised his glass and locked eyes with Jungkook. It wasn’t casual—it was a challenge. As if daring him to step forward, to break the rules.

They didn’t even know each other, and still Jungkook was sure he was doing it on purpose. He wasn’t looking at any other bodyguard in the area—probably because most of them were too well hidden. But every time their eyes met, Jungkook knew: Taehyung was looking for him .

Eventually, Taehyung stopped in front of a table crowded with influencers laughing and snapping photos. He offered them a dazzling smile, hugged one, brushed his fingers against another’s hand, and then—without turning his head—spoke in a low, steady voice:

“Bodyguard?” His tone was a mix of teasing and curiosity. “What are you doing just standing there? Are you here to watch or to protect?”

Jungkook stepped closer, keeping a professional posture and serious tone.

“Do you need something, Mr. Kim?”

“Why don’t you have a drink with me and my friends?” he asked, smiling, making the others laugh softly.

“I’m here to make sure nothing happens to you. Not to socialize.”

Taehyung tilted his head and leaned casually against the wall, oozing that effortless arrogance he wore like a second skin.

“That’s what they all say. But the truth is, no one can protect someone who doesn’t want to be protected. Isn’t that right?”

“Runway ready, gotta get some confetti”

Jungkook swallowed. The words were not only true, but they also sounded like a direct challenge.

“I’m not here to play games,” he answered firmly. “I’m here to do my job.”

“Then do it,” Taehyung whispered, stepping close—so close Jungkook could feel the warmth of his body. “But if you ever want to stop being so serious, let me know.”

Jungkook stood up straight and stepped back, reclaiming the space Taehyung had casually invaded.

“That’s not going to happen.”

Taehyung gave a low laugh, clearly enjoying the silent battle. Jungkook had already been warned about how much the idol liked to flirt. And yes, he was stupidly good-looking , too much to be real. But Jungkook was a professional. He really was.

“Lookin' like a twenty, from Korea to Miami”

Then, without a word, Taehyung turned and slipped back into the crowd, hands brushing the air, greeting people as he went, leaving a trail of whispers and turned heads in his wake.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate—he followed, keeping a careful distance, eyes locked, never letting him out of sight.

The crowd seemed to open for him, almost like respect. It was like Taehyung had full control of the space around him.

But it wasn’t that easy. At one point, Jungkook lost sight of him.  

The crowd swallowed him whole, and a sharp wave of anxiety pulsed through his chest. Instinct kicked in. His eyes scanned the scene, caught between professional concern and something more personal—something harder to ignore.

He saw him at the bar, smiling at a group of women who looked completely fascinated. Jungkook had to remind himself he was not there to admire, but to protect. Still, it was hard when Taehyung laughed with his head back, showing his neck in a way that made Jungkook’s thoughts blur.

Focus, Jungkook.

That mix of feelings was hard to control. There was something in the way Taehyung moved, how his laugh stayed in the air, that made Jungkook feel both out of place and… curious.

🌚🌃💫

After a few minutes, Taehyung stood up and walked alone to a lounge area, with soft lights and big couches—more quiet and private.  He did it without breaking eye contact, like he was inviting only him , even though it was technically Jungkook’s job to follow him everywhere.

Jungkook followed, breathing a little faster than normal. In that small space, the energy changed. He was no longer the idol with fans around him. He was a man, looking for something more. Looking for him .

Taehyung sat on the couch, crossed one leg over the other, and smiled playfully.

“You’re still here?” he asked in a soft voice. “I thought you’d run away by now.”

Jungkook shook his head, trying to stay calm.

“I’m here to do my job,” he repeated.

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung said, leaning in just a bit. “But tell me, bodyguard… what do you do when you’re supposed to protect something you secretly want?”

Jungkook felt the words hit him, waking something he tried to keep quiet. In his earpiece, he heard someone chuckle. Of course— all the bodyguards were on the same channel. They were all hearing this.

“I protect everyone,” Jungkook said with a mix of truth and challenge, “whether I want them for myself or not.”

Taehyung smiled with just one side of his mouth, clearly liking that answer.

“Well, that’s more interesting.”

The tension between them was strong now.  The space between them got smaller, and the air was full of something electric.

Jungkook was caught in this silent game, fully aware that the night was only just beginning— and what he’d thought was just a job… was quickly turning into a test of everything he thought he could control.

🌚🌃💫

After that exchange in the lounge area, Jungkook thought he could keep some distance—that his training would help him draw clear lines. But Taehyung seemed to know exactly how to break him down, piece by piece, with each small gesture and every carefully chosen word.

They went back to the party, where the music now pounded louder, the crowd dancing with the kind of wild abandon that belonged to a night that promised everything.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung to cross the dance floor, moving with feline grace, his eyes scanning through the crowd until they landed—of course—on Jungkook.

And so much for distance. That plan didn’t last long.

“You know,” he started, speaking in a voice only Jungkook could hear, “you weren’t assigned to me by chance.”

Jungkook frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung made a small hand gesture, asking him to turn off the earpiece. Jungkook hesitated—but knowing how bold and flirtatious the idol had been all night, he gave in. He tapped the earpiece off.

Taehyung leaned in so close that Jungkook could feel his breath brush against his ear.

“I chose you. Because I wanted to see how far you’d go. Because you’re different. And that interests me. The second I saw your photo, I knew. I wanted you to be mine.”

That confession—or maybe it was a provocation—left Jungkook speechless. He had spent his whole life keeping feelings away from his work. And now, this man—with one sentence—made him question everything.

Okay, maybe the emotions Taehyung gave him were not deep feelings exactly… But everything inside Jungkook reacted to his presence.

He turned the earpiece back on as soon as Taehyung drifted away.

“Jungkook, we lost your signal. Is everything okay? Backup’s heading to the floor.”

“No, no,” he answered quickly. “It’s under control. Probably just a network problem,” he lied.

🌚🌃💫

For the next few minutes, Taehyung went into full performance mode—dancing with others, brushing shoulders, disappearing into laughter and champagne—but always, always , his gaze found its way back to Jungkook.

An invisible fire burning him from across the room.

Every time Jungkook thought he had regained his composure, something inside him cracked again. “I’m here to protect him,” he kept repeating to himself. “Nothing more. It’s not personal.”

But reality bit back, sharp and hot against his thoughts: “I want to touch him. I want to feel him.”

Sure, he had worked with attractive people before. But Taehyung was from another planet. That face, that body, that mouth, the way he spoke, moved, danced… It was all just too much.

At one point, Jungkook stepped away briefly to grab a glass of water, and as he did, a memory from training flashed through his mind: “ Keep your mind cold at all times. Work is work. Don’t let feelings take control. Your priority is the safety of the subject—no exceptions. ”

But that code, so simple in theory, was hard to keep when temptation was so close. When the person he had to protect was a storm of desire and challenge.

Back on the dance floor, Taehyung vanished into the crowd like a fleeting shadow. Jungkook searched desperately for him with his eyes, feeling the urgency rise in his chest. How many times was he gonna disappear in just one night?

Then, without warning, he felt a cold touch on his neck: a soft, whispering voice.

“I’m going to the bathroom. In case you want to make sure I’m safe.”

Jungkook slowly turned to find him just inches from his face, eyes shining with a mix of playfulness and threat. Taehyung already knew the bodyguard would follow him. It was his job. But it didn’t feel like just a task. No. 

This time, it felt like a dare.

The sentence stayed floating between them like a hook. He pulled away with the same calm he had arrived with, his silhouette gliding through the dancing bodies as if the world wasn’t on the verge of breaking. Jungkook followed him automatically. His feet knew before his head: he had already lost .

They crossed the dance floor. Sweat, smoke, music hitting hard. ungkook barely noticed anything but that body ahead of him, moving slow, suggestive, like it was all part of a script. People looked at them, but no one said anything. No one stopped the star, nor the man who followed him like a dog about to bite.

They reached a dark hallway with only soft blue lights on the floor. The bathroom was at the end. Frosted glass door, discreet, modern—just like everything around Taehyung. Jungkook looked back one last time. No one followed.

Taehyung turned just before pushing the door.

 “Are you coming in with me to secure the perimeter?”

His voice had that half-rough, playful, challenging tone that made Jungkook’s blood boil. Jungkook didn’t answer. He pushed the door himself and went in.

The bathroom was wide. Black walls, golden taps, mirrors with lights. It smelled like wood and mint. No one else was inside. In the back, a dark leather sofa under a hanging lamp, and to the right, a panel separating the sinks from the urinals. All with a soft, intimate blue light.

Taehyungwalked to the mirror, looked at himself, adjusted a strand of hair. Then, eyes fixed on his own reflection, he spoke.

“You’re holding back so much it hurts to watch.”

Jungkook didn’t move. His back was straight, fingers clenched into fists. Everything in him screamed don’t do it. But his body said do it now.

“Are you trying to be the good guy?” Taehyung asked, slowly turning around. “Or are you just afraid of wanting something you can’t control?”

The music came softly from outside. A new beat entered the room.

 "You killin' it, girl…"

The same song. Like a damn sign.

Taehyung stepped closer. Then another step. Until he was standing right in front of Jungkook.

“Are you going to stop me if I touch you?”

Jungkook was breathing through his nose. Hard. Fighting himself. 

Taehyung raised a hand, fingers brushing the earpiece that connected him to the other bodyguards. With impressive ease, he switched it off. Then, he lightly traced Jungkook’s jaw with his fingers. Just a touch—but enough to ignite him.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Are you going to stop me?”

The bodyguard grabbed his wrist with one hand. A moment of tension. And then, he shoved him into a stall and pinned him against the wall, locking the door with the other hand.

Taehyung’s back hit the marble with a sharp thud—not brutal, but not gentle either. Jungkook caged him in with his own body, breath ragged, eyes locked on his.

Taehyung let out a low, wicked laugh.

“Ah... there you are.”

He kissed him.

There was no softness. Just hunger. Mouths crashing, lips clashing, teeth scraping, breath catching. Taehyung moaned low in his throat, pressing his hips forward into Jungkook, who gripped his waist hard—like he needed to anchor him, keep him from vanishing.

Jungkook kissed him like he needed something only that damned body could give him. And in a way… he did.

“Oh, I wanna get with you in the worst way”

Taehyung opened his mouth and let him in—swollen lips, tongue soft but sharp, provoking him, guiding him. It wasn’t a kiss that asked for permission. It was a permission that had been waiting all night to be claimed.

When Jungkook finally pulled back, gasping, their foreheads stayed pressed together.

“So… was that a no?” Taehyung whispered, laughing with that rough-edged voice of his.

Jungkook didn’t answer. He just slid his hand down, grabbed Taehyung by the waist, and pushed him back against the wall.

The inner battle was over.

He was going to fuck him . And they both knew it.

“...if you're single, let me make you mine”

Taehyung was breathing through parted lips, cheeks flushed, eyes so wide they seemed to glow under the dim blue light. His lips curled just slightly, soft with provocation.

Jungkook had him pinned, one hand steady on his hip, the other trailing up his torso—slow, deliberate—pushing the black shirt higher. His skin was hot and smooth, abs tightening beneath Jungkook’s fingers.

“Does this make you feel more… safe?” Taehyung murmured, still defiant.

Jungkook, again, didn’t answer. He leaned in and bit him on the neck, just below the ear, hard enough to draw a sharp moan. Taehyung’s whole body shuddered against him.

Outside, the beat kept pounding through the floor.

“Call a nurse before it gets worse, I’ma really, really need first aid”

The bass thrummed through the tiles like a threat—like a dare.

Taehyung ran one hand down Jungkook’s chest and unfastened his belt with a single, fluid motion, never breaking eye contact. With the other, he slipped the shirt off his shoulders. Jungkook didn’t help. He didn’t need to. He was completely present—completely in —without losing an ounce of control.

When his pants dropped to the floor with a dull thud, Jungkook bit his lower lip and let out a low, guttural sigh.

Taehyung looked down. Black underwear. Tight. The outline of his erection obvious beneath the fabric. He slid his fingers over it—slowly. Painfully slow— then pulled it down, letting it fall to the floor along with the pants.

And then, finally, he allowed himself to really touch him.

He wrapped his hand around his cock—hot, hard against his palm—and Jungkook arched with a moan he didn’t bother to hold back.

“Shit,” he gasped, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “It feels so… good.”

Taehyung dropped to his knees without thinking. He ran his tongue slowly up the center of Jungkook’s pelvis, from the base of his abdomen to just below his navel. Then, without warning, he took him into his mouth, deep and deliberate.

Jungkook let out a choked curse, one hand gripping the edge of the wall to keep himself upright.

Taehyung took his time, savoring every reaction. He moved slowly and deliberately, sensing the way Jungkook's entire body responded—every breath, every small tremor betraying how far gone he already was.

When he looked up and saw him like that—eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly open, completely undone—a part of him burned for more. If that was even possible.

He did it slowly, clearly enjoying the way Jungkook reacted to every touch. The rhythm was unhurried but purposeful, pulling quiet, helpless sounds from him with every motion. Inside his mouth, full and wet, each stroke made the younger one twist with pleasure.

“Baddest out your friends, oh, you killin’ it, girl…”

J-Hope’s voice sounded distant, distorted by the bathroom door. As if he were narrating the moment.

“Stop,” the younger ordered. Taehyung let out a whine, still with his mouth full. “Stop,” he repeated.

Taehyung pulled away, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes. But before he could say anything, Jungkook lifted him by the armpits, flipped him around, and made him rest his hands against the wall. His back was a perfect line of tension. The skin on his neck still bore the marks of Jungkook’s lips.

“Do you have condoms?” He asked, hoarse, against his ear.

“Right pocket.” Taehyung answered without hesitation. Of course.

Jungkook took it out, tore it with his teeth. There was no room for romance or sweet pauses. Only urgency.

“I'm dead serious, the baddest chick alive” 

“Suck” he ordered, putting two fingers in front of the idol’s mouth. Taehyung obeyed with a small moan.

Using saliva as the only lubricant they had, he slowly slid one finger inside Taehyung, allowing the space to adjust to it. With gentle, slow movements, he introduced a second finger and kept them moving for a few seconds.

Taehyung could barely stand, trembling and moaning with pleasure.

“M-more,” he begged. “More.”

Taehyung let out a low growl, arching backward. He didn’t complain. He didn’t ask for a break. It was clear that he wanted it all .

“More,” he repeated, almost spitting the word.

Jungkook obeyed him. Once he was sure, he put on the condom and held him by the hips, aligning without wasting another second.

He entered slowly, pushing with control, feeling how Taehyung’s body welcomed him, how it adjusted, how it tensed and then gave in.

“Fuck,” murmured Jungkook, resting his forehead on his shoulder for a second. “It’s like you were made to fit me perfectly.”

Taehyung moaned with his head against the wall, fingers digging into the tiles.

Jungkook started to move, slow at first, each thrust precise and deep. Taehyung openly gasped, unashamed, pushing back, wanting more.

“It should be a crime just to look that fine…”

“You’re killing it, baby” murmured Taehyung between breaths. “What you’re doing… I want m-more.”

Jungkook sped up the pace. He held him by the hip with one hand, while the other roamed his torso, his neck, moving up and down hungrily. Each thrust drew a louder, rougher sound from Taehyung. He was trembling, sweating, completely surrendered, but still wearing that crooked smile.

“Look at you,” Jungkook growled. “Playing all night and now you’re begging me.”

“And you?” Taehyung teased, breathless. “So perfect, so straight… and look at you now. Fucking me in a bathroom.”

 The comment only fired him up more.

Jungkook thrust harder, pinning him against the wall. He leaned in and bit at his back, his shoulders, as if wanting to leave a mark on everything he was doing. Taehyung was barely standing.

“I’m going to—”

“Do it.”

Taehyung screamed his name as he reached his climax, his whole body convulsing, tightening around him.

Jungkook came right after, breathing heavily and whispering his name, almost like a curse, digging his fingers into his waist so hard that there would probably be marks.

And then… they stayed silent. Only the uneven breathing and the song still playing from outside could be heard, as if nothing had happened.

Jungkook stayed inside him for a few more seconds, breathing heavily against his back, feeling the pulse still pounding in his temples. The air was thick. Absolute silence, except for the muffled hum of the music on the other side of the door.

Taehyung said nothing. He just lowered his head slightly, as if also trying to catch his breath. But then, without ceremony, he straightened calmly and stepped aside.

Jungkook took a step back, removed the condom, and threw it into the metal trash bin in the corner. He pulled on his pants and left the stall to wash his hands without looking in the mirror. He didn’t know if he wanted to see his face right now.

Behind him, Taehyung was pulling up his pants with an irritating slowness. There was no shame, no hurry, no guilt. He fastened his belt, adjusted his shirt —the same one Jungkook had crumpled with rough touches—, left the small space, and ran his fingers through his hair in front of the mirror.

And then, without even looking at him, he said:

“Relax, bodyguard. It wasn’t that bad.”

He threw a smile at him from the reflection, one of those that pierce deep inside. His voice was no longer lustful, but soft. Almost playful. As if they had just been messing around for a while.

Taehyung opened the door like he had nothing to hide and left.

Jungkook was left alone.

The room suddenly felt colder. He leaned against the sink, trying to regain control of his body, of his mind. But it was useless. The sex still clung to his skin like a perfume. Taehyung’s taste still lingered on his lips. The sound of his moans still echoed in his ears.

And it wasn’t just desire. No. There was something worse.

He had left him. He had gone as if nothing had happened. As if he were nothing more than a momentary accessory. As if they hadn’t just fucked against a wall with an intensity that made him forget his own name.

He swallowed hard and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was messy, his body tense, eyes red with contained anger.

“What the hell have you done, idiot?” he said without taking his eyes off his reflection.

He took a deep breath. Ran his fingers through his hair. Adjusted his earpiece again and walked out of the bathroom with a straight back.

Outside, the music kept playing. The rooftop hadn’t changed and no one knew what had just happened.

🌚🌃💫

Jungkook knew he had to go back to being Taehyung’s shadow, but first, he had to find him. He went to one of the elevated corners where he could see everything.

And there he was .

Taehyung was again at the center, surrounded by people, drinking champagne with a charming smile, like he was the star of an endless movie. Nothing in his body, nothing in his expression, revealed that just minutes before he had been naked, gasping his name against a wall.

Jungkook just stared at him. His stomach hurt, his chest, something he couldn’t name.
“Did he use me?” he thought. “Is this what he does with everyone? What pisses me off more: that he fucked me or that he ignored me afterward?”

He had managed, with just three sentences, a couple of fluttered lashes, and some dance moves, to make him put aside all professionalism and fuck him in a bathroom.

Taehyung had immense power over him.

For the rest of the night, he didn’t get closer. Didn’t move. Didn’t intervene. He simply watched.

Taehyung danced, laughed, drank, let himself be hugged. Sometimes he exchanged glances with Jungkook from afar, brief, ambiguous, like he knew Jungkook was still processing what he had done to him. But he didn’t come closer.

And Jungkook… didn’t know what hurt more. That he didn’t look at him. Or that he looked at him like nothing had happened.

🌚🌃💫

When the party ended, the assigned car was waiting downstairs.

Jungkook stepped forward. It was part of his protocol: to accompany him until the end, even if inside he was a wreck. It had been a shitty night. Although what he had felt with Taehyung had been both heaven and hell.

Taehyung arrived a few minutes later, alone. Without saying goodbye to anyone. Jungkook opened the back door, but Taehyung threw him a mischievous look before sitting in the passenger seat. Great, he was going to play until the fucking end.

Jungkook cursed in every way he knew before walking around the car and sitting in the driver’s seat.

He started the car and, knowing Taehyung wouldn’t hesitate for long, enjoyed the silence for the first few minutes of the ride. The city passed by outside the windows, neon lights dragging like blurry brushstrokes.

Taehyung didn’t say anything for several minutes. He just turned on the radio and hummed some songs while looking at his reflection in the glass, as if he were someone else.

Until, of course, suddenly, he spoke.

“You don’t usually break the rules, do you?”

His voice was calm. No mockery this time. Just genuine, soft curiosity. Jungkook answered without turning around.

“No.”

Taehyung rested his head on the seatback, barely turning his face toward him.

“Then don’t take it as a mistake.” Pause. “Take it as an experiment.”

Jungkook tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

 “Honestly, risking my job for an experiment isn’t something I’m especially proud of.” His voice sounded hurt. “Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to me as an experiment.”

Taehyung didn’t answer immediately. That man—big, tattooed, pierced, with that serious façade—lost all coldness when you looked at those beautiful huge eyes for more than two seconds. Or when you talked to him and saw how sweet and emotional he really was.

Taehyung had known it just by seeing him on his résumé. But he was even better than he thought.

Then, he smiled.

“You’re so much more than that, Jungkook. That’s why I did it.”

Their eyes met briefly. It was a different look. More intimate. More dangerous.

And then, in a low voice, almost a whisper, he added:

“If you want it to have only been once, tell me. I’ll behave.” A pause. “But if you don’t tell me…” another pause “ …I’m going to keep looking for you.”

And then he looked out the window again, as if he hadn’t just opened another wound.

The car glided through the wet avenues, silence weighing between them like a third body. City lights filtered through the windows, flickering on faces still damp with sweat and something older, denser: desire, confusion, fear.

Jungkook looked ahead, his brow relaxed but his eyes heavy. He wasn’t on guard mode anymore. No alertness in his body, but no peace either. It was something else. A waiting.

Taehyung spoke first. Of course.

“Why don’t you leave?”

Jungkook barely turned his face. He didn’t answer. Taehyung insisted.

“After that… anyone else would be pretending it didn’t happen. And would have asked one of their coworkers to take me home. Not you. You’re here, enduring the silence. Why?”

“I’m on duty” Jungkook answered, almost automatically.

Taehyung let out a small laugh through his nose.

“And yet you came inside me less than an hour ago.” Silence. “You’re not letting me go, Jungkook. You know that, right?” The bodyguard’s gaze faltered. “Park the car.”

Jungkook didn’t protest, because honestly, driving and concentrating on the conversation wasn’t an easy task.

Taehyung turned toward him, with a calm that hurt. As if everything was a little easier. As if he had already accepted what Jungkook still didn’t know how to name.

“I want you to stay,” he said.

Jungkook blinked. Once. Still staring at the road.

“What are you talking about?”

“I want you to stay. As my bodyguard, officially. To work with me. To not be just a broken night.” He looked at his face, almost pleading, but the younger kept his eyes on the road. “But I also want you to touch me again. Whenever you want. And to look at me like you did when you were inside me. Without control. Without fear.”

Jungkook turned his face. Looked at him. Finally. Taehyung wasn’t smiling. Not joking. He was there, stripped of words. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t shown before.

“Why me?”Jungkook asked. His voice wasn’t firm. It was human.

Taehyung took a moment to answer.

“Because I like you. Because I saw it from the first moment. And because with you, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I have to pretend.”

That. That was what broke something inside him.

Jungkook looked away. Stayed silent, feeling his chest open a little more than he wanted.

No one had ever told him that. Never. Not like that. Not someone like him.

The city kept passing by—bright, alive, indifferent. And then, like a blow from fate or whoever was running that night, the car radio changed the track. A familiar beat filled the silence.

“You killin’ it, girl…”

They both recognized the voice immediately. Taehyung smiled, looking straight ahead. Jungkook let out a brief sigh, like a laugh that never came.

“Ten out of ten, oh, you killin’ it, girl…”

Inside the car, silence wrapped around them again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t tense. It was expectant.

And then, without saying anything, Jungkook reached out. He gently rested his hand on Taehyung’s thigh. Not as a sexual gesture. Not as possession. As something that said “I’m here.” Like a yes without words.

Taehyung looked down at his leg, then at his face. He smiled. A small smile. Intimate. Nothing like the ones he gave at parties. This one was just his.

“Runway ready, gotta get some confetti…”

Jungkook still didn’t know what he was doing. Didn’t know if this was the start of a story or a disaster.

But one thing was clear: He still didn’t know if this was a mission or a sentence. But he did know what he wanted it to be.

“I could try.”

Taehyung smiled wider, placed a hand on the younger’s cheek, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Is that a promise?” he whispered against his mouth.

“It’s a promise.”