#this is specifically about the experience of feeling clothing soaked with blood and realising you did that to yourself but also other things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hobivore · 3 years

Text

Cobalt blue

↠ PAIRING: KTH x reader x JJK

↠ WORDS: 11.3K

↠ GENRE: smut, artist (painter) au

↠ RATING: explicit (18+)

↠ SYNOPSIS: you ask Jungkook to draw you like one of his French girls.

↠ WARNINGS: pwp, m x f x m threesome, soft power dynamics (sub/switch!Jungkook, switch!Reader, dom!Taehyung), noona reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, oral (f and m receiving), pussy worshipping (sorta?), drawing of specific body parts (yes it’s pussy), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, (wrap it before you tap it!), dirty talk, mild overstimulation, orgasm denial, marking (hickeys, nail marks), choking, praise, Jungkook is a bit bratty but also a good boy, creampie, cumplay, longhaired!Jungkook and black perm!Taehyung because they live in my mind rent free, RIP Namjoon’s couch

↠ A/N: this really got away from me and somehow ended up being over 10K. Shoutout to @hesperantha and @wwilloww for their endless support and help as my beta readers for this fic. Please check them out if you want to read some wonderful writing!

“Shit!”

You look down, wide-eyed, at the blue goo seeping into your white cable-knit sweater. It drips all over your hands and trickles down the front of your pants.

Realising you’re still holding the glass jar you somehow managed to save from shattering to pieces — cobalt blue scribbled in messy handwriting on the sticker — you hastily put it back in its place, cursing both your clumsiness and Taehyung’s science experiments in what he calls “the search for van Gogh’s soul”.

Disgruntled, you look at the potpourri of pots and jars filled with colourful paint. You bet the post-impressionists did know how to tighten a lid.

A blue blob runs down your wrist and you watch how your sleeve soaks it up eagerly. The thought of having to wring van Gogh’s spirit out of your sogged sweater makes you wince — the poor man has been through enough already during his days on earth, and your recklessness just might have made the afterlife a whole lot worse.

Speaking of the course of one’s life, you are not ready to die of cobalt poisoning just yet; slowly withering away like the cornflowers on the roadside verge behind your grandmother’s house, rich pigment seeping through your skin to taint your blood.

Wiping your paint-covered hands on your butt — pants deemed a lost cause long ago — your eyes scan the studio for something to change into. Taehyung and the two other artists he’s sharing the workshop with will often leave some spare clothes or aprons lying around.

The studio is a roomy place with a high ceiling, located in an old elementary school. It could’ve been cold and impersonal if not for Namjoon’s thoughtful touches; he might as well be called Midas with the way he can transform a room.

A variety of houseplants are scattered around the place, some drooping down from the ceiling. Terracotta pots and tattered Persian rugs fill the studio with an earthy warmth and the large leather couch and armchairs give it a more homey feel.

You already know you’re not going to find anything wearable in Taehyung’s workspace; he prefers to not let his supplies lie around.

Taehyung has set up his easel next to the tall windows which gives him the opportunity to use the natural light he likes so much. It’s one of the reasons why he picked this atelier, the other two being the company and the space — he teaches art classes sometimes, and the room allows for up to eight students.

Hoping she’ll forgive you for nosing about you scramble around Maggie’s workbench, eyeing the delicate sculptures waringly. Please don’t elbow one off the table.

Meticulously slow to avoid smearing any paint onto Namjoon’s plants — he takes pride in being a pacifist, but you have the feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you hurt any of his leafy children — you bumble around, eyes sweeping over heaps of clay, pottery tools and glasses filled with suspiciously coloured liquids.

Maggie and Namjoon are away for two weeks on some sort of silent meditation retreat and it appears they’ve taken most of their belongings with them. Namjoon’s corner is filled with nothing but canvases, jars with more paint (you make sure not to touch any this time), and other art supplies. Still no clothes, not even a raggy apron.

You pause at Namjoon’s easel, a large canvas resting against the wood. Hundreds of small dots form the outline of a blue lake tucked away between green mountains.

It’s beautiful even in its unfinished state: it gives it an inescapable, unpolished feeling.

Tilting your head you take in the landscape. You might prefer it this way — with all its slight imperfections, a little rough around the edges.

Namjoon of course won’t rest before he’s dotted down the last dot. Shoulders slumped above the canvas, working diligently for hours on end. He always works in complete silence, saying he prefers having enough room in his head to let his thoughts flow freely.

Silence makes you jittery: it takes you a long time to be at peace with your thoughts, to bridle them without constricting.

It was Namjoon who suggested you try figure modelling after he’d seen you pose for Taehyung once. Told you it might help organise the mishmash of ideas in your head.

You can’t say you’re fully there yet — but you’re trying.

Last week you posed for Taehyung’s advanced figure drawing class. One of the students forgot his pencil studies and Taehyung has hung them on the sides of his cabinet.

You walk over to his workplace and stop before the collection of sketches. Your own face is staring back at you in graphite — eyes solemn, hand-drawn snippets of a moment in time. You resist the urge to trail the lines with your fingers. How much of it is really you, and how much of it is the artist’s interpretation?

Sighing, you turn to the window and watch the snowflakes falling outside. You’ll have to wait until Taehyung comes back from the store and face the mortification head-on.

You can already picture him laughing: head thrown back and wheezing, clutching his stomach while he slowly rolls off the couch in his typical dramatic fashion.

But then you spot it out of the corner of your eye — half-hidden under Namjoon’s en plein air studies.

Your saviour.

You’ve never been happier to see a quilt. You have to thank Namjoon for always being so thoroughly prepared. It’s the middle of winter and despite the roaring heater, one can never have enough blankets.

Stretching out your hands to snatch the blanket away you realise they’re still covered in barely dried paint. You squint at them — Namjoon prefers high quality, natural materials over polyester and you’re not going to ruin his expensive blanket by plastering your grabby cobalt blue-covered hands all over it.

You’ll have to wash up first. Reluctantly, you leave the blanket and head towards the bathroom. You flick on the lights and—

Oh.

There really is paint everywhere. Which is a stupid thing to think, because you already knew that, but somehow you were still not prepared for the absolute mess you are.

Something about curiosity and a dead cat crosses your mind — except it looks like you did the killing and the animal in question was a giant squid.

You snort. The contrast between your white sweater and the deep blue splatters covering you from neck to thighs make you look like an antique plate out of your grandmother’s China cabinet.

Slowly, in an attempt not to cover the entire bathroom in paint, you strip out of your clothes until you’re left in nothing but your underwear. At least the paint hasn’t soaked all the way through and your white bra and panties are still spotless.

You turn on the sink and start washing your hands and arms, watching the blue pigment spiral down the drain. It curls and whirls around the clean water flowing from the tap in a delicate dance. It really is a pretty colour — of oceans and lakes and bright skies.

Glancing over at the pile of clothes on the floor you briefly wonder if you should try to get the paint out, but that might only make more of a mess. At least you’re clean again; you can try and save whatever’s left of your clothes later. If it’s even worth trying.

A door slams close and you flinch at the sudden sound — Taehyung must have returned. You dry your hands and arms with the towel, rubbing at your tender skin until there are no specks of paint left.

You check your reflection to see if you’ve missed any spots. You know Taehyung worked hard on getting the pigments just right and now you’ve ruined one of the most difficult colours to make.

He’s going to sulk for a bit, and after that he’s going to laugh his ass off and never let you live this down.

You take a deep breath, hand on the door handle; better to rip the bandaid off in one swift motion and just get this over with.

You wince when the door bounces back against the wall — thrown open with more strength than intended — and step out of the bathroom, only to immediately halt in your tracks.

Dressed in all black: cargo pants and combat boots, a backpack slung over his shoulder — the man standing in the middle of the studio, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights, is definitely not Taehyung.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?”

His eyes flash over your figure before anchoring themselves on the wall about two feet above your head.

“H — hi noona,” he splutters, big cozy scarf still wrapped around his neck and a sketchbook under his arm. He looks completely out of place between the colourful paintings surrounding him, a bewildered look on his face. “I came for the lesson? I’m sorry — am I too early?”

The lesson. Shit. You glimpse at the clock above the door — is it really 4 pm already? It seems you lost track of time while you were busy cosplaying a Jackson Pollock painting.

Jungkook is still studying what must be a particularly interesting spot of plaster, gaze dropping to his shoes when you continue to gape at him without saying a word. You’re not even going to ask him where he got the key — Taehyung gives out spares freely like the Pope bestowing blessings.

Today’s lesson was supposed to be about drapery and clothing folds, something you are currently terribly ill-equipped to help with.

The sensible thing to do would be to play it cool: excuse yourself for being late, walk over to the other side of the room and drape yourself in Namjoon’s blanket like a proper 17th century lady.

Then make sure to never talk about this again. Pretend it never happened.

So—

“Draw me like one of your French girls!” You blurt out.

“I — what?” His eyes finally land on yours, confusion written all over his face.

Great. If it wasn’t enough to spill a full jar of paint all over yourself, you’re spilling words now too like the mindless fool you are; your mouth running away from you once more. Like the last time you saw him, at Jin’s birthday party — when you almost choked on a cupcake and accidentally let it slip that this was nowhere near as fun as Taehyung’s hands around your throat.

He hadn’t been able to meet your eyes for the rest of the night.

“Yes,” you force yourself to sound chipper instead of anxious, “like this.” You wave your hand a little too stiffly up and down in front of your body.

Jungkook appears to be mulling over your words, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Okay,” he’s sounding a little unsure but holds up his sketchbook, “if that’s what you want?”

What you want is for the earth to open up and swallow you whole, but there’s no way back now.

“Yes. Good. Um, right. Where do you want me?” You cringe. Stop making this even worse.

If he notices you wincing, he doesn’t acknowledge it but gestures towards the couch instead. You silently thank him for it.

“Where’s Taehyung?” He takes off his jacket and scarf and hangs them over the back of the armchair before plopping down, loose black shirt billowing around his agile frame. You watch how it gets tucked between his back and the chair as he sits, fabric straining across his chest.

That chest, which looks like it would feel so firm under your hands—

You stifle a cough and take the couch opposite him, grimacing at your sharp movements, a stark contrast to his.

“Tae went to the store to get some coffee. I need my 4 o'clock caffeine fill.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “He might’ve mentioned you get really cranky without your coffee.”

You raise your eyebrows in mock surprise. “He said what? I can’t believe he would expose me like this.”

“So he’s right, then.” Jungkook looks up at you, eyes glinting. The little brat.

“You might just find out if it takes him any longer.” You can’t help but laugh at the way he scrunches his nose at that, the tense knot in your stomach loosening up a little.

Jungkook grabs his backpack and lays his graphite set on the coffee table, neatly placing his pencils in order of hardness. Your eyes trail over the crowded ink on his right hand and arm — he tends to wear long sleeves, so you haven’t had a good chance to look at them since he added the most recent tattoos. It’s messy, a little jumbled, but it oddly suits him.

He selects a yellow 2B pencil and flips his sketchbook open on his lap, eyeing you expectantly.

You pull your legs up so you're sitting on your side, half-reclining with your elbow resting on the arm of the couch, fingertips softly pressed against the side of your head. You lay your other hand on top of your thigh and smile at him in what you hope is a reassuring manner.

“Like this?”

Even though you were the one to pitch the idea to him in the first place you realise you have no clue what either of you wants.

His eyes drift over your body, taking in the way the winter sun paints you in a soft glow. It’s as if he is looking at you for the first time — really looking at you, and you feel exposed under his warm gaze. It lights a fire deep in your belly and you force yourself to look out of the window, focusing on the snowy branches outside, willing that spark not to travel any lower.

It’s just modelling. You’ve done this countless times before — for Taehyung, for groups of middle-aged men and women, for art students just fresh out of highschool.

Nude, semi-nude, draped in silk: it’s nothing new. It’s not exciting. It’s cramps and stiff limbs and cold coffee and hours of being stuck in your head. You were just caught off guard, that’s it.

He finally nods and clears his throat, tearing his eyes away. His hand hovers above his sketchbook, pencil clasped firmly between his tattooed fingers.

When he turns his attention back to you the look in his eyes shifts; it’s one you recognize all too well. You’re no longer just you — you’ve transformed before his eyes into an assembly of shapes and curves, a playful dichotomy between light and shadow.

He sets his pencil down and draws the first line.

Much like he’s studying you, you’re watching him. You’ve known Jungkook for a while now but you’ve never taken the time, or gotten the chance, to watch him this closely. Of course you’ve sneaked a few looks and stolen some glances — there’s no denying he’s a handsome man. You’ve got eyes.

You might have watched the way his thighs flex under those ridiculously tight jeans he likes to wear sometimes, or how his eyes glimmer when he recalls one of his many pranks — just like you’ve studied the slope of Hoseok’s nose or the pillowy shape of Jimin’s lips.

You’re also extremely bad at hiding your ogling, to Taehyung’s great amusement. He does it on purpose sometimes — flaunting his friends in front of you until your cheeks heat up and you slap his arm playfully in mock frustration. You’ve never said so outright but he knows you enjoy it as much as he does. His friends, of course, are more than happy to play along.

It’s a good thing he’s not the only one who knows how to play this game. You remember the way he almost choked on his champagne when you introduced him to Lisa and her famously tight red dress at Hoseok’s New Year’s Eve party. It’s been almost a year and he still won’t shut up about it.

Granted, neither do you — it is a very well-fitted dress and the thought of peeling it off of her plays prominently in some of your fantasies.

You shift your legs, trying to shake off this dangerous train of thought before it completely derails, thoughts circling back to the man in front of you.

Jungkook’s head is tilted slightly and he has his legs crossed underneath the coffee table, eyes switching attentively between you and his sketchbook, lingering on your figure every now and then.

He’s told you that he wanted to improve his drawing skills. Jungkook is a game design major and a long-time friend of Taehyung, which is why he’s been getting lessons on the house. You told Taehyung not to give discounts to friends or else he’ll never make a dime, but he pointed out how Jungkook has never asked for a markdown unlike some of his other friends. And he remembers his own time at the academy, trying to make ends meet while living off instant ramen and cheap, watered down coffee.

Artists need to support artists, he insisted.

And that’s how you ended up agreeing on modeling for Jungkook for free. Okay, maybe his bright smile and strong hands had something to do with it — one of the latter currently holding the pencil in a loose grip, thick veins running along the back. Your eyes trail their meandering path across the muscles of his forearm, how they disappear in the crook of his elbow. Still, your gaze travels further. You press your legs together as you follow the curve of his bicep, trying to picture the tanned skin that continues under the fabric of his shirt.

You imagine how his hands would map your figure with as much resolve as they’re currently tracing it on paper. How his fingers would press into your skin, your body pliable under his touch.

The way he sketches every curve is filled with confidence — the gesture of a guy who doesn’t treat anything in a desultory fashion.

You feel it again, that heat, and you swallow down the embers before they grow from a harmless spark to something hotter and harder to quench.

Stealing a glance at his face — hoping it’s discreet enough — you let your eyes sweep over his strong jaw and nose. On someone else they might have been too blunt but his features are softened by his large, round eyes and the gentle curve of his cheeks.

His hair has been getting longer. He likes to tie it up these days to keep it from falling in his eyes. He used to hide behind that curtain, sometimes, but this look befits him. It highlights his neck and jaw, a few loose strands framing his face.

You know him as a man of few words, carefully assembling his feelings before speaking. It’s not that he’s shy, per se — just thoughtful in the way he expresses himself.

He sometimes looks out of place at parties: staring off into the distance, seemingly lost in his own world. But you’ve also seen him bounce up and down in excitement, giggling at a joke or whining when he’s the one who got the short end of the stick for once.

Here however — bent over his sketchbook, brow creased in concentration — everything falls into place: all the facets that make up Jungkook are coming together.

Maybe you should talk, ask him about his studies. How is his mother doing? Did his sister pick a date for her wedding yet?

He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and holds his sketchbook at arm’s length, letting out a barely audible huff before bending back over the paper, face so close the pencil almost pokes him in the eye.

You smile. Not wanting to distract him, you draw the blanket of quiet closer around the two of you. Slowly, the remaining tension in your limbs dissipates — the soft scratching of pencil on paper the only sound in the room.

“Having fun without me?”

The both of you had gotten so lost in the moment — you in your thoughts, Jungkook in his sketchbook — that neither of you noticed Taehyung entering the studio.

Jungkook’s head snaps up, pencil clattering on the concrete floor. He scrambles to retrieve it before it can roll underneath the couch and you chuckle, sticking your hand up to wave back at Taehyung.

You’ll just have to play it cool. Don’t think about the pile of paint-soaked clothes in the bathroom and certainly don’t think about the fact that you’re sitting on the couch in nothing but your underwear.

In front of Jungkook. Who should be drawing layers of silk and linen right now.

Taehyung puts the grocery bag on a workbench and unbuttons his coat, throwing it over the easel behind him. Rolling up the sleeves of his patterned dress shirt he walks towards Jungkook and glances over the younger man’s shoulder at his sketchbook.

Taehyung’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and his dark, curly hair is covered in snowflakes, rapidly melting in the heated air. The lighting makes them shimmer like a dusting of minute diamonds whenever he moves his head.

“Looks like you don’t need me anymore.” He captures your gaze, mischief gleaming in his eyes and a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You feel your cheeks heat — so much for playing it cool.

Jungkook sighs solemnly. “I do. I can’t seem to get her hands right.”

Taehyung smiles and pats him on the shoulder. “That’s why you’re here, aren’t you? Let’s get started.”

He walks over and you feel the couch dip when he wedges himself behind you.

“If you find yourself getting stuck, a change in pose can help.” He gently pulls you upright into a sitting position, his legs on either side of yours and your back resting against his chest.

Despite his chilly hands — you might have stolen his gloves earlier this morning — your skin feels feverishly hot, all too aware of his body against yours and Jungkook’s wriggling in the chair opposite of you, fiddling with his pencil.

Taehyung never touches you during his lessons; you’re experienced enough to know what poses he wants to see without him having to do so much as ask.

He nuzzles your neck, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Sorry about the cold hands,” he murmurs against your skin. Liar.

Suddenly, he pulls back. “Why do you smell like paint?”

You roll your eyes. “We’re in your studio, Tae. Everything smells like paint.”

“Maybe…” He hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But you smell like one in particular and I happened to notice that your clothes are gone. Or are those two things unrelated?”

You try to keep a straight face but your heart leaps in your chest in a dance of embarrassment and desire when he concludes, “Looks like we should leave your drapery lesson for another time, Jungkook.”

A dense silence seems to stretch out between the three of you, cold shiver travelling down the length of your spine. You watch a look of bewilderment take over Jungkook’s face — undoubtedly a mirror to your own expression, eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Curse Taehyung and his damned velvety voice. Curse Taehyung and his distaste for alcohol and his stupidly good memory, remembering every tipsy moment you’ve spent rambling on about his friend’s absurdly well-proportioned body.

Something along the lines of telling him Jungkook could probably snap me in half like a twig springs to mind and it takes all your willpower to resist the urge to bury your face into your hands.

Taehyung slides his icy palms down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Curse him indeed.

“Is this okay?” His breath ghosts the shell of your ear. “We can stop anytime you want. Just tell me.” He looks at Jungkook, letting the question hang in the air between the two of you.

Jungkook has stopped fretting — body stilled and taut like a rope. Something dark swirls behind his eyes when he holds your gaze and nods.

“Yes.”

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Go on then.” You stick your chin out and angle your face towards Taehyung, watching him through your lashes, ignoring how your own voice betrays you — coming out wispy and much higher than expected.

“Hm, bossy.” The corners of his mouth twitch and he unclasps your bra with nimble fingers, sliding the straps off your shoulders in one smooth motion.

Jungkook’s hands jerk involuntarily, eyes dropping down from your face to your breasts, your nipples hardening when Taehyung’s cold hands brush up against them.

Jungkook swallows thickly and you feel the cinders in your belly flare up again — but this time you allow them to combust, flames licking hotly through your veins.

Taehyung’s warming fingers trail lazily down your sides, taking their time until he reaches the hem of your panties. He hooks his thumbs underneath and you lift your hips to let him slide them down your legs.

You kick your panties under the coffee table, Jungkook’s eyes closely following every motion. The rough material of Taehyung’s woolen dress slacks grazes your skin and you press your thighs together awkwardly, feet pressed to the cold floor.

“What do you like to draw, Jungkook?” Taehyung’s voice is deep and steady, his heartbeat slow against your back. His thumbs draw soothing circles into your thighs.

It anchors you, finding comfort in the familiar feeling while your own heart so desperately tries to hammer its way out of your chest.

Jungkook clears his throat with a sharp cough. “Animals. Plants. Flowers, mostly.”

Your eyes drift to his right arm, a large tattooed flower on full display, surrounded by the myriad of ink.

You can feel Taehyung smile into your hair. “You’ll find that the human body is not so different.”

Without warning he slips his large hands under your thighs and slowly spreads them open, hooking your legs over his knees, leaving your feet dangling off the couch.

Across you, Jungkook makes a choking sound and you fight the instinct to close your legs, taking in the way his eyes darken and his entire body tenses up. If you thought he was tightly wound before it’s nothing compared to him now: shoulders rigid, his knuckles whitening around the pencil.

It sends a new wave of arousal straight to your core.

“Are you familiar with Georgia O’Keeffe’s work?” Taehyung inquires.

You recognize what you call his teaching voice — matter-of-fact yet pleasant. It’s a stark contrast with the heat between your legs and Jungkook’s taut jaw.

The younger man nods, strained.

“Come closer.” Taehyung says and Jungkook rises to his feet a little too fast, nearly dropping his sketchbook on the floor.

“Bring your sketchbook. We’re not done yet.”

Jungkook closes the distance between you and drops down to his knees on the small rug in front of the sofa, eyes level with your centre. With the coffee table no longer a barrier between you, you could touch him if you lean forward — the thought sending your pulse racing.

He’s looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and you want to reach out and fist your hands in his hair — anything to bring him closer, to feel his mouth and his tongue and his hands all over your body.

You want to feel the muscles underneath his shirt, you want to trace your tongue along the edge of his jaw, you want—

“Stay there. No touching.” Taehyung’s voice drops lower, the pleasant tone turning into something darker.

You squirm in Taehyung’s grip when Jungkook’s eyes travel over your body, embarrassment flaring up again as he drinks in the sight of you spread out before him. Unsure of where to leave your hands, you settle with resting them under your breasts, fingers intertwined to stop yourself from reaching out to him.

Taehyung slides one of his hands to the inside of your thigh and dips two of his long fingers between your folds. You whimper at the sudden intrusion, his light graze gone in the blink of an eye. It’s nowhere near enough — you need more, more than just a hint of his touch. A soft whine escapes your lips, Taehyung's other hand squeezing your thigh in response.

“Just think of flowers, Jungkook.” He brings his hand up to his face, studying his fingers coated in your slick and admiring the way they glisten in the afternoon sun.

“So wet already, and no one’s even properly touched you yet?” He turns his head back towards you. “Needy girl.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks when you hear rather than see him suck on his digits, pulling them out of his mouth with an audible pop.

He hums, the low sound vibrating in his chest, “You taste so good.”

Jungkook is still frozen in place, enraptured by the way Taehyung’s tongue swirls around his fingers, licking up every last drop.

“Do you want a taste too, Jungkook?”

The other man’s eyes snap up at him. “I — y-yes,” he stammers, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“Yes what?” Taehyung’s breath ghosts the shell of your ear, making your skin prickle with desire.

“Yes. Please,” Jungkook corrects. He rubs the top of his thighs with his hands, sketchbook and pencil lying abandoned on the ground next to him. His body sways softly from side to side, fighting a silent war against the urge to bend forward and taste you himself.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Taehyung raises a questioning eyebrow at you. “Should we give him a taste?”

The sight of Jungkook patiently waiting on his knees is enough to persuade you. You whisper your affirmation and this time, you’re prepared for Taehyung’s touch; angling your hips up in a feeble effort to chase his fingers, but his grip on you is too strong.

Taehyung stretches his arm and Jungkook leans forward to take his fingers into his mouth, lips closing around them as he savours the taste of your arousal, a low hum reverberating in his throat.

“See?” Taehyung grins at the other man’s eagerness, “Sweet like nectar.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, brow creasing, the outline of his hardening length clearly visible against the fabric of his pants. He moans a muffled response around Taehyung’s fingers and you feel yourself get impossibly wetter at the sound.

When Taehyung decides his fingers have been thoroughly cleaned he pulls them out of Jungkook’s mouth. His friend, in turn, opens his eyes again — pupils blown wide, irises so dark they’re barely distinguishable. He holds your gaze as he licks the remnants of your taste off his lips, relishing in the way you watch him through your lashes with heavy-lidded eyes, chest heaving a little faster than before.

“Fuck, that was hot,” you breathe and Jungkook lets out a low chuckle.

“Want to make you come on my tongue,” he whispers, “if he’ll let me.” He nods towards Taehyung, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Do you want me to, noona?”

There’s a teasing lilt to his voice which rolls over your skin like a wave of burning desire — the thought of his mouth on you enough to have your mind reeling.

Taehyung lets out an amused huff and nudges Jungkook’s knee with his foot.“Don’t get too eager now, we’re not done yet,” he motions towards the floor, “pick up your sketchbook.”

Jungkook puffs up his cheeks but sits back on his heels and — much to your disappointment — grabs his pencil, flipping to a blank page.

“Then show me,” he says, eyes fixed on you as he sets his pencil down on the paper.

Normally, when you pose nude, artists will skim over the more private details and focus on the lines and curves of your entire body.

But here — exposed, held bare before Jungkook’s eyes — there’s no place to hide. Taehyung’s large hands hold you in their firm grasp while Jungkook kneels between your legs, filling page after page with his sketches.

No one’s ever studied you like this and it sends another wave of heat down your spine, pooling between your thighs.

This time his focus doesn’t shift. He works diligently, but there’s a tension in his jaw and a strain to his hands — as if he has to force himself to keep dragging every stroke along the paper.

Taehyung’s hand travels down your stomach again, fingers skimming along your outer lips as he splays them out in a v-shape, spreading you even wider.

“Look closely,” he instructs Jungkook, “isn’t she pretty?” He sweeps his thumb over your clit and you moan weakly, body turning to putty in his arms.

“Such a pretty little cunt.” Your breath hitches in your throat at his lewd words, heat spreading through your limbs.

Slowly, Jungkook inches nearer, until your feet are almost touching his shoulders. He’s close enough now for you to notice the fluttering of his lashes against his cheeks and the little moles dotted on his skin — as if someone took a constellation out of the sky just to adorn his face with.

It would be a lie to say you’ve never thought of him like this. You’ve thought about it many times but nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you — for the way he manages to look like an amalgam of saccharin and sin. For the way he drinks you in so openly, so truthfully, setting every inch of your body alight with his eyes alone.

“She is,” he breathes, unable to tear his gaze away, “so pretty.”

You’re burning with need, wanting him, someone, to touch you so badly. He’s so close yet so far away, breath fanning against the inside of your thigh every time he turns his head to look down at the paper.

You groan and shift around between Taehyung’s legs, grabbing his wrist to try and get his hand to move, desperate to find some relief.

He chuckles softly and drags his tongue from the crook of your neck to your ear. “Relax, sweetheart. I bet you’re dripping on the couch, making a mess,” he slides his hand along the apex of your thigh, fingers ghosting the edge of where you need him most — “isn’t she, Jungkook?”

Between your legs, Jungkook swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “Yes,” he groans, palming himself through the fabric of his trousers with his free hand, “sh— she’s so wet, Tae.”

You grind your hips, feeling Taehyung’s firm length press against your lower back. You repeat the motion, hoping it will evoke a reaction, but he doesn’t budge.

“Please, Tae,” you plead, “touch me.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue and circles one of your nipples with the pad of his index finger, grinning into your hair when you arch into his touch. “Always so messy. Always so impatient.”

With one of his hands currently occupied, you try to close your legs but he’s one step ahead of you — both hands firmly back in place before you can snap your legs together.

You pout, but Taehyung ignores your failed scheme and turns his attention to the man before you instead.

“Jungkook,” he says firmly, “you’ve worked hard. Put your sketchbook away.”

The younger man plants his left foot on the ground in an undignified scramble, hand on his knee—

“Did I tell you to get up?”

Jungkook shakes his head and resumes his kneeling position, twisting around so he can put his supplies on the coffee table. He adjusts himself in his pants, cock visibly straining against the material.

You bite your lip, trying to imagine how heavy he’d feel in your mouth, how well he’d stretch you open.

“Tae!” You gasp when there is a sudden nip at your earlobe.

Said man laughs softly, soothing the skin with his tongue.“Baby, you’ve been so good,” he murmurs, “both of you have been so good. Do you think we should let Jungkook get a proper taste?” He looks down at the kneeling man, who seems captivated by the way you clench around nothing at Taehyung’s question.

You grasp Taehyung’s forearms, angling your hips up in a silent plea.

“Use your words. Tell him.”

When you look down at Jungkook you let out a bated breath, mesmerised by how wrecked he looks already — eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed and bottom lip swollen from where he’s been chewing on it.

“Kook — want you,” you breathe, inwardly cursing yourself for how pathetically needy that sounded.

Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, nuzzling his nose against the inside of your thigh before licking a broad stripe through your folds, groaning at the taste.

Your head falls back on Taehyung’s shoulder, knuckles whitening around his forearms when Jungkook’s tongue swirls around your swollen clit. He wraps his lips around the bud and sucks, your cries only muffled by Taehyung’s skin as you press your face into the crook of his neck.

Taehyung twists his arms out of your grasp and grabs your chin, tilting your head towards him, lips finding yours in a messy dance of tongue and teeth.

“Ahh, fuck—” you keen into Taehyung’s mouth when Jungkook’s teeth graze softly over your sensitive clit.

“You like that, noona?” He looks up at you, eyes gleaming as he takes note of the way you writhe under his ministrations, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you closer towards his face.

“Told you I wanted to make you come on my tongue. Been thinking about it since we first met at Tae’s birthday party.” He dips his head to give another generous swipe of his tongue that has you faltering. “That tight little skirt haunted me for days.”

You can’t help the string of curses falling from your lips — “Shut up,” you hiss, but there’s a fondness buried underneath the words, “I liked you a lot more when you couldn’t talk.”

You twist your fingers into his hair and push his face back between your thighs. He laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin and sending little jolts of pleasure through your body.

Jungkook’s lewd, sloppy noises and your loud moans are the only sounds in the room — it’s filthy and messy, the way he eagerly laps up every fresh gush of arousal. The world turns blurry when he flattens his tongue, the paintings surrounding you reduced to colourful patches along the edges of your vision.

When Jungkook pulls back briefly, Taehyung sees a chance to slap your clit playfully and a surprised yelp falls from your lips, hips bucking up involuntarily. Jungkook grins into your cunt, moving his head to give Taehyung more room.

“I can’t wait to feel you tighten around my cock,” Taehyung groans into your neck, slippery fingers now rubbing small circles on your clit, alternating with the agile flicks of Jungkook’s tongue.

“Can’t wait to watch Jungkook fuck you.” He punctuates his words with a tweak of his fingers. “You’d like that, don’t you?”

You whimper a meek response, unable to speak up, head lolling back as their combined motions wind you up tighter and tighter. Bringing your hands up to your chest you pinch your nipples between your thumbs and index fingers, simultaneously rolling your hips.

Jungkook stiffens his tongue and loosens his grip a little, letting you grind on his face. Your toes curl, legs starting to shake, “Tae — ah, Kook — please,” you pant, vision swimming as the two men push you closer towards the edge you’ve been chasing, climbing higher and higher—

Suddenly Taehyung’s hand is gone, fisting into Jungkook’s hair and pulling him off you. “Not yet, Kook.”

You whine and buck your hips up in an attempt to get Jungkook’s mouth back where it should be, but Taehyung’s other arm wraps around your waist to hold you firmly in place.

He chuckles, low vibrations against your back, “Like I said. Always so needy.”

Jungkook is still kneeling between your legs, chin covered in your slick and Taehyung’s hand in his hair — previously neat ponytail now a messy bun, loose strands falling into his eyes. He looks just as stunned as you, flushed and wide-eyed at the sudden loss of your building orgasm on his tongue.

“Don’t you think Jungkook has worked hard enough already?” Taehyung whispers in your ear, tilting his friend’s head up to meet his eyes, “don’t you think he’s been a good boy?”

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s lashes flutter at the words and the faint whine that leaves his lips when Taehyung releases his hold on him. It’s a soft, melodic sound, barely audible but clear like glass.

It might be one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard and you decide you want to hear it again, and again, and louder.

Rising to your feet you tuck a loose strand of hair behind Jungkook’s ear.

“You’re right, Tae. He has been a good boy.” You let the words roll off your tongue and dangle them in front of Jungkook, who latches onto them hungrily.

You hold out your hands to help him up, his movements stiff after kneeling for so long. He groans, stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes fall on the little sliver of skin above his belt before drifting down to the prominent bulge in his pants.

Taehyung stands up behind you, eyes following your gaze. “I know what you’re thinking,” he whispers in your ear, too soft for Jungkook to hear, “I know you can’t wait to sink down on his cock.”

He grins, and you inadvertently shiver when he continues, “but I want you to take your time. I’ll be watching.”

He straightens his back and smiles at you, all teeth and bright innocent eyes as if he didn’t just promise you the imminent gratification of another man’s cock.

You should’ve known that Taehyung, the man who never rushes a meal, who savours every experience and draws your pleasure out like a stroke of his brush on a canvas would be no different when it came to Jungkook. His words tug at the simmering embers in your belly, arousal dripping down your thighs.

He walks over towards the armchair, sitting down with elegant ease. If he were a forest lake, you would be the torrent rushing down after the first sunshine has melted the snow high up in the mountains. Long limbs draped gracefully, he rests his chin in his hand and cocks an eyebrow at you.

You smile at him. He might appear serene, features stilled as if he was carved out of marble, but even the calmest lake can’t escape the springtide. Eventually, you’ll meet.

Jungkook is still standing in front of you, arms folded and eyes darting between you and Taehyung.

“Where do you want me?” He mirrors the words you spoke to him earlier that day, eyes glinting mischievously.

While you thought he was nervous when he didn’t dare to look at you it appears he was only trying to be polite — not a shred of that well-mannered behaviour left now, his head tilted slightly as his gaze roams freely over your body.

You can’t wait to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“Don’t get too cocky now, Kook.” You are all too aware of your state of undress and the fully clothed men watching you. “Take your clothes off and lay back on the couch.”

You steady your voice and stare at him when he meets your eyes, his brazen expression slowly faltering. “Put your arms behind your head.”

He nods eagerly and scurries out of his clothes, letting them fall on the ground.

Now it’s your turn to trail your eyes over his body — all hard planes, from his chiseled chest to his toned stomach. The intricate pattern of ink winds its way up along his right arm, interwoven letters and figures mottling his shoulders, which are emphasized by his small waist. You feel your pulse quickening when your eyes drop to his strong thighs, cock hanging half-hard between them.

From the glimpses you’ve seen and the way he religiously hits the gym every day there was no doubt in your mind that he would look good — but you’re still caught off guard by exactly how good he looks.

This is fine, it really is, it’s superb, outstanding, terrific, absolutely fab, tip-top, please don’t say any of that out loud—

For the second time this day you find yourself tangled up in a knot of thoughts, unable to do anything but stare.

He doesn’t give you the opportunity to ogle him for long, however, hastily fluffing up a cushion and lying down on his back, arms folded behind his head.

You climb onto the couch, straddling his thighs. You take a moment to admire him — the way his chest rises and falls with every breath and how his skin flushes slightly under your heated gaze.

He’s taken out his hair tie, black hair framing his face in gentle waves, slightly creased by how tightly he’d wrapped the elastic. He looks up at you, absentmindedly biting his bottom lip in anticipation of your next move.

“Can I touch you?”

He nods, his affirmation a whisper on his lips.

Resisting the urge to crawl a little higher and sink yourself down on his cock — Taehyung’s reminder still floating somewhere at the back of your mind, his presence sticking to your skin like honey — you run your nails up Jungkook’s thighs and he inhales sharply, eyes still fixed on your face.

“You like that, Kook?” You press your nails into his skin, a little harder this time.

And there it is — that sound. Eyes closed, he lets out another whine as you watch how purple crescent moons blossom underneath your fingertips.

You lean forward until your face is next to his. “I want to mark every inch of your body,” you whisper into his ear and he hums in response, trembling underneath you when you trail your teeth down his clavicle, sucking dark bruises into his skin.

“Noona— ahh,” he gasps as you nibble on the sensitive spot behind his ear, soothing the marks with your tongue.

You pull back, hands tracing his chest. When you lean forward again it’s to press your mouth against his, soft lips parting willingly when you swipe your tongue along their edge to deepen the kiss. It’s calmer than you expected it to be, languid strokes and swallowed whimpers, the faint remnants of your taste on his lips.

You rake your nails over his chest and he moans into your mouth.

“Let me hear you,” you sit up, eyes finding his, “don’t hold back.” He nods and you trail your hands down his stomach, exploring the solid muscle underneath your fingers.

It’s so firm — he’s lean, like Taehyung, but where the older man has a certain softness to his edges, Jungkook’s body is rugged and sinewy. It’s pliable under your hands, sensitive to the most featherlight of touches you bestow on him.

You wrap your lips around one of his nipples and flick your tongue against it. He whines, louder this time, and you suck softly in response. After lavishing the other nipple with similar attention you move downwards, eyes tracking the expanse of golden skin to where his cock lays against his stomach, still untouched. The reddened head glistens with pre-cum and you wrap your hand tentatively around his length, squeezing softly. He lets out a low hiss and you flick your wrist up, thumb spreading the moisture over his silken skin.

He bucks his hips up into your hand and you sit down on his thighs, letting his cock drop back against his stomach.

“A little too eager.” You grin, “I need you to stay still for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” It’s coming out strained and the muscles in his arms twitch but he keeps them folded behind his head.

“What was that?”

“Yes, noona.” He nods, brows knitted together in earnest, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Good boy.”

His cock twitches and you take him in your hand again, the heavy feel only inciting the ache between your thighs.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Taehyung, who’s lounging comfortably in the arm chair, long legs spread out as if he’s watching the evening news. He’s staring at you impassively but you know him well enough to see it’s just a front: his gaze even more intense than usual, chest rising and falling a little faster.

You bend down and trace a thick vein on the underside of Jungkook’s cock with the tip of your tongue. A low growl resonates in his throat and you wrap your lips around his length, tongue swirling around the head, determined to make him fall apart in a mess of moans and whines.

With one spit-slicken hand wrapped around him and the other gripping his thigh you take him deeper into your mouth, feeling the repressed stutter of his hips as he forces himself to stay as still as possible when his cock hits the back of your throat.

Pulling back, you watch him through your lashes, a string of saliva dangling between your lips and the head of his shaft. He has his eyes closed, head pushed back into the cushion.

“Look at me,” you whisper, and he tilts his chin down to meet your gaze.

You can feel Taehyung’s eyes on the two of you, never leaving, encouraging you to put on a show as much for his pleasure as for Jungkook’s or your own.

It has your nerves soaring and when you take Jungkook into your mouth again you don’t stop until your nose hits his pubic bone, a string of loud moans and curses ringing in your ears when your throat constricts around him.

It’s messy and loud, the way you flick and swirl your tongue around his sensitive head while taking him deep into the warmth of your mouth — sloppy, wet noises mixed with his throaty whines. He does exactly as you told him: not holding back, moans slowly rising in pitch and volume, muscled thighs tensing underneath yours.

You can feel the heat pool between your legs and slide one of your hands down, plunging two fingers inside yourself in a desperate attempt to find some relief. You imagine it’s Taehyung’s cock instead, stretching your walls slowly. It only adds more fuel to the fire — the angle slightly awkward, fingers a tad too short and pleasure just out of reach.

Jungkook’s frantic inhales and the stutter of his hips tells you he’s close — so you pull back, leaving him whining and writhing underneath you. Strands of hair are plastered against his forehead, heaving chest coated in a dewy sheen.

“Noona, please—” he gasps and you wrap your slick hands around his length, stroking him slowly, keeping him teetering on the edge.

“Ah, you want more?” You dip your head down and flick your tongue against that particular spot on the underside of cock — the one that makes him squirm in your grasp — before pulling back again, “like this?”

He lets out a hoarse whimper, fingers tangled in his hair to keep himself from grabbing yours. You wrap your lips around his length again, preparing yourself to—

“Wait,” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the room. He rises to his feet and walks towards the couch, glossing his hand over your hair and down your back, fingers ghosting over your sodden cunt. You lean into his touch, delight washing over you at having him closer again.

Taehyung’s other hand comes up to wrap around the back of your neck. “I want to see Jungkook fill up this pussy,” he muses, emphasizing his words with a tap of his fingers before letting go of you and stepping back, sitting down on the coffee table.

He doesn’t have to tell you twice — you’re moving as soon as the words leave Taehyung’s mouth, one hand wrapped around Jungkook’s cock as you slowly lower yourself down on him.

You let out a shaky breath, bracing both hands on his chest to give yourself some time to adjust to the feeling of him buried deep inside you.

Jungkook groans and closes his eyes, jaw slackening. His arms jerk in an unconscious response to your walls tightening around him but he keeps them behind his head like you told him to.

“You’re so good for me, ah, Kook—” you grit out when you roll your hips, lifting yourself off of him, only to sink back down again in one fluid motion.

With every drag of his cock against your walls the heat is building inside of you again and you throw your head back, letting yourself get carried away, two voices mingling in pleasure.

Taehyung watches how Jungkook’s length gets soaked in your arousal with every roll of your hips. Dark brows drawn tightly together and eyes glossy, bewitched by the intoxicating view in front of him, his carefully crafted expression is faltering. His cock strains painfully hard against his slacks and he clenches his jaw, fingers wrapped stiffly around the edge of the coffee table.

You’re grinding down on Jungkook with all the strength you can muster, trying to find that angle that has you seeing specks of white behind your eyelids.

“Are you gonna make her come or should I lend a hand?” Taehyung goads, playful amusement lacing his words.

Something dark sparks in Jungkook’s eyes and he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He’s always been competitive — you know it, Taehyung knows it, everyone knows it.

And Taehyung has always been the one who knows exactly how to pull his strings.

“Please…” Jungkook sounds strained, begging through his teeth. You know it’s taking him every inch of his resolve to stay still and keep himself from thrusting up to meet the smooth roll of your hips.

The notion of what he could do when you give him your word sings through every fibre of your being, thrumming in time with the pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

You slide your hands over his chest, face hovering above his. “Make me come,” you whisper, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging at it roughly.

Much like yourself, Jungkook doesn’t waste any time — hands gripping your waist tightly as he thrusts up, throwing you off balance and sending you face-forward into the crook of his neck. Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders in a feeble attempt to remain upright, but you are no match for his strong arms as he slams you down forcefully to meet every stroke of his nimble hips.

Your body goes limp against his, unable to do anything but allow him to let pleasure rain down on you with every thrust. The change in angle has your clit rubbing against his pubic bone, the friction setting your nerves alight.

Taehyung’s face floats in front of you, deep brown eyes lost in a haze of ecstasy as you try to focus, your vision blurry.

“Jungkook’s fucking you good, baby? You like that?”

You try to answer but the only sounds that leave your lips are a mess of moans and shaky whimpers that sound vaguely like his name.

“Look at you, you’re taking him so well.” He smooths his hand over your cheek — you’re positive you’re a mess, drooling all over Jungkook’s shoulder, but you have thrown all care out of the window long ago.

“Fuck—ah, noona, hyung— feels so good,” Jungkook groans next to your ear, tightening his grasp on you. He shifts his hips slightly and you gasp, the head of his cock brushing against that spot you have been chasing for what feels like eternity.

Feeling your walls flutter around him, Jungkook nearly pulls himself out fully before sinking back inside you with a tantalising drag that has you moaning and trembling in his grip. With every stroke of his hips you feel yourself tightening around him, closing in on your climax until a particularly sharp thrust sends you tippling over the edge.

You fist your hands in his hair and he slows down his pace, dragging out your orgasm as you coat his cock in your slick, face buried in his neck.

His breathing comes out in ragged pants and you roll your hips, encouraging him to move faster. He picks up the pace again, rhythm erratic and faltering. It’s almost too much, too deep, and you hoist yourself up, planting your hands on either side of his head. You watch how pleasure overtakes him — hips stuttering, his brow creased and eyes closed when he spills himself inside of you.

The two of you stay still for a moment, catching your breath, a tangled mess of leaden limbs.

“Knew you didn’t need me,” Taehyung grins at Jungkook, “see?” He jokingly pats Jungkook on his head, the latter trying to swat his arm away, softening cock threatening to slip out of you.

“Don’t move,” Taehyung warns and you both still. He sits down behind you, mirroring your pose. Grabbing your hips with one hand he lifts you up gently, Jungkook’s cum trickling down your thighs as he pulls out of you.

You whimper when Taehyung gathers the mixture of juices with two fingers and pushes it back into your sensitive cunt.

He reaches behind him with his other arm, grabbing a large cushion and stuffing it between yours and Jungkook’s hips, angling your ass up and preventing Jungkook’s cum from spilling out of you. His fingers are moving slowly, careful not to push too hard.

“Tae, ah— too much,” you gasp, his motions bordering on the edge of pain. He hums in response and presses his thumb against your clit, knowing his way around your body almost better than you do. He eases you into the discomfort with slow, languid strokes, it soon making way for pleasure again.

“That’s it,” he coaxes when your soft moans are growing in volume, fingertips searing your skin with every touch. He bends down to lick the glossy remnants of Jungkook’s cum and your arousal off your thighs until they are completely clean, thumb still circling your clit at a leisurely pace.

A hand comes up to your face and you open your eyes — you don’t even recall closing them — to see Jungkook drinking the sight of you. He slides his hand to the back of your neck and brings your face down to his, your arms braced on his shoulders. He swallows your moans when Taehyung’s long, slender fingers brush smoothly against your swollen walls.

Taehyung removes his hand and spits on your cunt, watching how it trickles down between your folds before sliding his fingers sloppily through the mess, groaning at the sight.

“Fuck.” He pushes two fingers inside you again in a scissoring motion and you arch your back at the intrusion, forehead pressed against Jungkook’s. “You think you can take some more?” A hint of desperation laces his voice, fraying at the edges of your resolve.

“Yes.” You breathe, pushing yourself eagerly back onto his hand. He curls his fingers, chuckling at your impatient response. “Please, Tae.”

Then his hand is gone, the sound of him unbuckling his belt enough to have you soaking the inside of your thighs again, anticipation tightening in your chest.

When nothing happens you crane your head around to see what’s taking him so long, his hands on your hips and face lit up in a broad grin.

“Tae, I swear to God if you’re not gonna—”

The end of your sentence is cut off by your own gasp when you feel the blunt head of his cock push against your entrance.

“Then what?” He teases, sliding his length through your lower lips and strengthening his grip on your hips to prevent you from moving. He bends forward, breath hot against your ear. “I don't think you're going to do anything. And I’m not nearly as desperate as you.”

You whine, squirming in his grip.

“Stop moving.”

You cease your wriggling, his cock straining heavy against the curve of your ass.

“What do you think, Jungkook?” Taehyung straightens his back, looking over your shoulder at the man below. “Should we give her what she wants?”

Jungkook looks up at you and you send him a pleading look. “Tae—Kook, please.” You’re not beneath begging, with Taehyung so near yet so far away; you want him closer, the need to feel him inside of you making your mind foggy and clouded with lust.

“Please fuck her, Tae.” Jungkook groans, eyes darkening and bottom lip reddened from chewing on it.

Taehyung chuckles, “Lucky you.” You whine at the faint burn as the head of his cock breaches you, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

“Shit.” He groans as he slowly inches deeper, watching how his length gets coated in Jungkook’s cum and your own arousal, “such a pretty, tight little pussy.”

When he finally bottoms out he stops, chest heaving. He smooths a hand over your lower back. “Are you okay?” His voice is raspy, restraint slowly unravelling as he loses himself in the feeling of your walls tightening around him.

You push yourself back on his cock, wiggling your ass a little, hoping it entices him enough to move.

“Patience was never your strong suit,” Taehyung laughs. “Looks like you two got that in common.”

You roll your eyes and Jungkook lets out a huff, but before you can counter Taehyung’s words he snakes a hand up your torso and wraps it around your throat, lifting your body up so your back is pressed against his chest. The soft cotton of his shirt tickles against your skin — something about him being fully dressed while you and Jungkook lie naked underneath him making your chest tighten with desire.

Taehyung is watching you through thick lashes, with heavy-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips. His tongue darts out and your eyes follow the motion, captivated by the movement. No matter how often you see him this up close, he never fails to enthrall you; tanned skin coated in a glistening sheen and brown eyes darkened to a deep hue, black messy curls framing his face.

When he kisses you it feels warm, earthy and familiar — but still just as exciting.

“Tell me what you want.” He pulls back, lips ghosting along the edge of your jaw.

Of course he already knows exactly what you want.

“Tae,” you plead, “please move.”

He nips at your earlobe and bends you over, left hand taking hold of your hip and his right grabbing your shoulder. You rest your forearms on Jungkook’s chest and his arms come up to steady you when Taehyung finally rolls his hips, your breath hitching in your throat.

His pace is agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch as he nearly pulls himself out entirely before sinking back again, slick noises mingling with your moans.

Jungkook slides his left hand under the cushion to adjust his hardening cock, pressed between the fabric and his stomach, groaning at the friction when Taehyung picks up his pace.

The ache between your legs grows stronger, the room slowly fading into the background until all that remains is the two men surrounding you, your voice nothing but a hoarse whisper.

“Tae, ah—harder, please.” He gives into your request, groaning as he pushes you down onto his length with fervent devotion. “Ahh.” He hisses, “you feel so good around my cock.” His hair falls into his eyes in messy tangles, gaze fixed on the sight in front of him. “So wet. So tight.”

Your eyes fall shut, the three of you a tangle of limbs and throaty moans.

Beneath you, Jungkook stirs.

“Fuck,” he breathes, watching how pleasure overtakes your expression. “So beautiful.” He brings his tattooed hand up and closes it around the column of your throat, squeezing lightly.

“Wanna watch your face when you fall apart.” He murmurs, “you think you can do that for us, noona?”

You whimper weakly when he tightens his grip, fingers pressing into the soft skin under your jaw. Your cunt clenches around Taehyung’s cock and his hips stutter, a string of husky moans falling from his lips.

You feel like you’re floating, Jungkook’s hand around your throat and Taehyung’s grip on your hips the only things preventing you from collapsing onto Jungkook’s chest, arms shaking as you try to keep yourself upright.

A raspy sob falls from your lips when Taehyung angles your hips up and the head of his cock brushes along the spot that has you trembling in his grasp. He slides one hand between the cushion and your body, fingers finding your clit.

You don’t even care about how fucked out you must look — pressed between the two of them, flushed and sweaty and still wanting more.

“Please… Tae…. gonna —” you’re blabbering, unable to wrap your tongue around the consonants caged behind your teeth.

“Then come.”

It’s too much and not enough all at once — your orgasm washing over you as the taut string they’ve kept you dangling on snaps with a pinch of Taehyung’s fingers.

Jungkook curses, hand tight around your throat and hips rutting against the pillow, eyes never leaving your face.

Taehyung’s grunts are getting increasingly more desperate when you soak his cock, your walls throbbing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to follow you off the precipice, body slumping forwards and pressing you against Jungkook’s. He rests his arms next to the younger man’s shoulders, trying not to crush you under his weight.

“Fuck,” he groans into your hair and Jungkook chuckles. “Fuck indeed.”

Taehyung punches his shoulder half-heartedly and rolls on his side, pulling you with him. Pressed flush between them, you feel their steady heartbeat as the hazy bliss slowly lifts. It’s tempting to close your eyes and just stay here, in the moment, the snow still drifting down outside and covering the world in an ivory blanket.

“You might need a new couch.”

Jungkook looks down and grins sheepishly. “And some new pillows.”

“Namjoon’s gonna kill us.” Taehyung sighs, wincing when he sees the mixture of cum dripping down your thighs. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we make even more of a mess.”

“You can use my shirt, I have a spare.” Jungkook lifts his head and stretches his arm towards the pile of clothes on the floor, just out of reach.

Taehyung untangles his limbs and clambers over you and Jungkook, fastening his belt. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be right back.”

“You brought an extra shirt?” You look up at Jungkook, fingers trailing the ink on his shoulder.

A light pink dusts his cheeks. “I planned on going to the gym later so I brought my workout clothes.” He hesitates, waving his hand around, “but then, um, this happened.”

“Can I borrow your clothes?”

“My clothes?” He frowns. “Why? I mean, sure.”

“Thought you might need an excuse to drop by to pick up your clothes sometime.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he laughs, “As if I need an excuse.”

“What on earth is this?”

Jungkook’s head snaps up, eyes widening when he sees Taehyung standing in the doorway of the bathroom, holding up your paint-soaked clothes with an amused grin on his face.

“Oh, no.” You groan, tugging on Jungkook’s arm to wrap his body around you, burying your face into his neck. “I was never here.”

Thank you for reading!

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Tagging: @xjoonchildx

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

The Handsome Stranger

Summary: Escaping the daily grind for a mountain resort with your best friend was already exhilarating enough. You weren’t prepared for the handsome stranger you crossed paths with along the way to become more than that during your stay.

Pairing: Brian Kang x reader (ft. Day6)

Genre: strangers to lovers au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 4949

Tapping the steering wheel in beat to the music playing around your car, you shot your best friend Lana a smile as you both sang along to the song energetically. The morning sun was out, the promise of your weekend getaway being blessed with good weather. You were more than ready to escape the city into the mountains for the next three days over the long weekend. What more could you need than good company, the beautiful nature surrounding you and sunny weather?

Pulling to a stop at the intersection that would lead you onto the highway out of the city, your spirits were growing the closer your vehicle got to the city border. To leave the stress behind and mindfully get back in touch with yourself. It had been a long time since you had reached inside yourself to have a chat and you were already feeling more at ease knowing you didn’t have to go to work today like usual for a Friday.

“Y/N, I think those guys next to us are trying to get your attention,” Lana mentioned suddenly and you looked out of your window, winding it down when the passenger smiled at you graciously.

Oh boy, what a smile.

“Hey, I’m really sorry to do this but we are in the wrong lane. We want to go straight, all cool if we jump in front of you?”

Nodding, you smiled back. “Sure, go ahead.”

The attractive stranger grinned at you and the other members on board of the kombi van shouted in gratitude. The lights changed green and they moved in front of your car before you followed after them. Not only did they flash their hazard lights in a quick thanks, but the passenger also leaned around his open window and waved generously.

Well, you didn’t normally experience such kindness on the road and this only helped boost your feel-good mood.

And Lana’s teasing commentary. “He was totally making eyes at you.”

“Lana they just needed to get in front of us, that’s all,” you countered, feeling your heart beat a little faster than it should. “There were no eyes being made.”

“Uh-huh, well yours certainly soaked all of him in. I’ve never heard you sound so sweet when driving, ever.”

“Normally because all I’m faced with are assholes cutting me off around this city,” you told her, scrunching your nose up at her continued teasing. However, you couldn’t stop smiling and even you knew you were failing at convincing her otherwise. “I’m a nice person when others are.”

“Well, he seemed really nice for you to be the way you are now. I wonder if there will be guys like them at the mountain spa resort?”

Laughing, you shook your head. “Lana, we’re going to the mountains for some self-care and getting in touch with ourselves, not for boyfriend prospects.”

“Who says we can’t do both?” Lana retorted with a smirk, nudging you playfully now that you were up on the motorway. The kombi van was just up ahead and you eyed it apprehensively.

You had to admit, if you got another chance to meet the attractive stranger, you only hoped it wasn’t as brief as your first encounter.

“Oh my god, Y/N, look!” Lana breathed, gripping onto your lower arm as she pointed. Shooting her a look to let go so you could navigate the parking lot of the resort, you glanced in the direction she was pointing at briefly.

There was the van.

You had lost it on your travels, having followed them for some time as the drive wound up into the mountains. Pulling off to stop for lunch, you had resigned yourself to the fact they were probably taking the summit pass to get to the other side where a lot of people would go this time of the year. There was a music festival next weekend and you assumed most would make a camping venture out of it, heading over the week before to set up and get the early bird perks.

As you found a parking space, you eyed the van with renewed hope. What were the odds of bumping into them here?

Lana echoed your thoughts. “I can’t believe they’re here!”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” you attempted to tell her and Lana rolled her eyes at you as she grabbed her luggage trunk from the back of the car. You placed a hand on your hip, cocking your head to the side. “What, it doesn’t!”

“You basically drooled over him.”

“I did not!”

“I’m saying this is a sign and you are going to listen to it, Y/N,” Lana announced, rolling her luggage towards the front entrance. You were quick to grab your things to follow Lana inside, checking into your room and marvelling over the view outside the large windows. You soon forgot all about any niggling signs and focused on taking in your first deep breath since leaving the city. This was exactly what you needed. To the left you could see the forest edge, greenery ascending all the way up the mountains. To the right was a rushing river that separated undulating hills and further forestry. And below you were the hot springs that had attracted you here in the first place.

Lana breathed in slowly. “Wow, you were right. This place is perfect.”

“Shall we go out to one of the pools before dinner to unwind from our travels?”

She nodded happily. “I put on my bathing suit before we left our lunch pit stop.”

It wasn’t long until you were submerged in tranquillity. The water temperature was just right, soothing any aches you had as the stress melted away from your body. You could spend all weekend in and out of these pools and you knew it would be worth the travel coming here.

“Wow, fancy meeting you here,” a voice announced and you snapped your eyes open, staring up into the face of one handsome man.

Specifically, your favourite stranger. You tried to remain calm, though it was a little difficult to do with Lana now not so subtlety pinching your lower arm.

“Oh, they’re the girls who let us in earlier, right?” another recognised, grinning at you both as he slung an arm to rest on the first guy. You realised he was the driver and the three others that stopped beside them were the ones in the back. There had been a time on the highway where you were both side by side and they had been hollering things out of the window, the tall, lanky one moving forward first.

“This pool open for more guests?”

Lana nodded in delight. “Please, it’s like we know you already.”

“You know, I got that feeling as well,” he enthused with a lazy grin, gesturing for the others to get in.

Somehow, you were now next to your handsome stranger and hopefully not as affected on the outside as you were feeling internally. The heat in the spring pool had definitely risen and you were worried that you might pass out if you didn’t start breathing properly.

He smiled that ever-charming smile at you a moment later. “Thanks for letting us in.”

“It was no problem, it’s not often people ask before they cut you off.”

He chuckled. “Technically we didn’t but I appreciate it all the same. I’m Brian.”

“Y/N.”

“And I’m Lana,” your best friend introduced. You soon learned that Sungjin had been driving, Jae was the one who had gotten in the pool first and Wonpil and Dowoon were the other two from the back seat. The conversation was natural, flowing from one topic to the other. You had been right that they were travelling for the music festival, but not for their reason behind it.

“You’re playing there?”

“Yeah, we’re kind of a band,” Jae mentioned with another lazy smile and Sungjin chuckled.

“We’re more than kind of a band, though we’re still making a name for ourselves.”

“Day-Six,” Lana repeated from their band name announcement and then grinned. “Did you recently play at the Saturday Band Jam?”

Wonpil gasped and nodded. “You know of us?”

“I was there! Your music is good! It’s a shame Y/N didn’t come with me that night,” she said, shooting you a pressing look. You smiled firmly.

“I don’t do crowds,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I did hear your music was apparently good though.”

“None of this apparently, Y/N. We are good,” Brian insisted and you smiled lightly at his response. He was self-assured, and that only seemed to charm you further. “Maybe we could play for you sometime.”

“As in a private concert?” Lana asked, already nodding. “I’m so down for that.”

“Well then, how long are you both here for? We leave Sunday afternoon but could do something small tomorrow night, right guys?” Dowoon offered and you hesitated as the others all agreed unanimously. This was supposed to be your getting in touch with your inner feelings and becoming one with nature getaway. Nowhere in the itinerary had you planned for an impromptu performance. Then again, when you set out this morning, you hadn’t been expecting to meet any of them, let alone be soaking in a hot water pool together. Maybe there was something about their presence that you needed to accept into your stay.

Lana answered on your behalf. “We’ll definitely be keen, right Y/N?”

“Of course.”

True to Lana’s form, early mornings weren’t her kind of thing. You knew she would use the free hours to sleep in and you left her to it after getting changed into your off-road sneakers and active clothing. Figuring you had about two hours to yourself before meeting Lana in the breakfast hall, you left her a note and pocketed your phone and card key before stepping out into the early morning. Following one of the set tracks into the forest, you checked the sign for the length before briskly picking up your pace, walking over the damp forest floor bed. It smelt incredible in here and you smiled to yourself.

This was what you had been dreaming of ever since you found the brochure to this place. You liked nature walks; it was the best kind of soulful exercise. You not only got the blood pumping, but you nurtured what laid deep down inside you. It connected you with your breathing, clearing away any niggling doubts you had as you spoke of your troubles to the trees around you.

“You know, I don’t think they can hear you.”

Turning to a side pathway, you saw Brian there and he lifted his hand in greeting. You pursed your lips together and continued on with your walk. “Who are you to say they can’t?”

“Ooh, a firm believer in this huh? I like it.”

“We need to stop meeting like this,” you mentioned as Brian fell into step at your side. You didn’t want to add on the reason why. Even in active clothing, he was too handsome for his own good.

Before sleeping last night, you had convinced yourself to not fall for his charms anymore. There was nothing worrisome about him as a person, Brian seemed kind, approachable and could talk about anything, that much you had learned. And he wasn’t just the type to only want to hear himself talk, he had encouraged you to converse with him in the dining hall last night, his expressions genuine as he listened to you. Something that was a rare treat from all the guys you had the displeasure of spending the majority of your working week with at the office.

But he was just someone you met whilst travelling. You had no idea where he called home, if he was even from your city. And after this weekend, he was travelling further whilst you were returning home. It was silly really, but you craved stability and the life of a musician seemed to be on the road.

Plus, you were certain he was just being friendly. And you were definitely getting ahead of yourself in thinking there could be anything more than that.

“Like this?” he repeated, raising his arms to the canopy above. “You mean, we’ve met more than once in a forest like this?”

You smiled, shaking your head a little. “I’ll start to think you might have an agenda.”

“Oh really?” he mused, grinning all too widely at you. “My early morning run through here just happened to coincide with your early morning walk. Though, perhaps knowing you were coming out here this morning, I had wondered if we would chance meeting like this. Seems like it was worth giving up the extra sleep.”

“So you did plan it,” you replied with a laugh and Brian sighed dramatically.

“Guilty as charged.” His smile eased and he glanced at you tentatively. “Maybe you don’t appreciate the company? I was almost going to head back to the resort, but then I heard you and thought I’d be a better sounding board than the trees.”

“I’ve never heard the trees be so chatty when I’m out among them.”

“I bet they don’t know what to say to help you with knowing whether you should go back to your job on Monday, though, Y/N.”

You flushed with colour. “You heard that?”

“Stressed a lot, huh?”

You nodded softly. “Just a bit.”

“Maybe you need to make some changes.”

“Brian, I’m not going to quit my job. Even if I voiced it, I’ll be at work on Monday. It’s just what I’m like.”

“I meant, you could try changing what is stressing you out at work so you can feel more at peace within the environment. Have you ever told your boss just how much he relies on you?”

There was no point being embarrassed now, he had clearly heard it all. Letting out a sigh as you approached a root growing over the path, you were surprised when Brian took your hand and helped you over it. When you were on the other side, he let you go and you almost reached back out for his hand. You liked the warmth, the way he guided you in that moment. Looking up at Brian, he held no qualms in staring back at you. You smiled. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, I’m not all that sure what good the advice of a stranger is compared to that of the trees,” he started in jest and you rolled your eyes, inwardly rejoicing when he offered you his hand to get over more overgrown debris on the path. “But I think advocating for yourself little by little might just get you further respect.”

“Maybe I’ll try that.”

“You should,” he agreed and shared another smile with you. It was then that you realised you hadn’t let go of his hand and you fumbled with forming a sentence before he cut you off. “I bet the trees can’t hold your hand either. But don’t worry, I don’t mind doing so.”

So, your plan of not allowing Brian any more free real estate up in your brain was a failure. After the walk, you had met up with the others for breakfast and then headed out towards the river this time, exploring together as a group. There was definitely more hand-holding, exchanging of smiles and you were certain your heart had begun swooning. Now he wasn’t your attractive stranger at all.

Instead, you were balancing on a fine line between friendship and wanting to kiss him. In fact, you had spent more than a considerable amount of your afternoon staring at his lips, and given how much he was talking, there had been some logical reason to it. However, you couldn’t deny that at some points you had no idea what he had been saying.

And he had been all too accommodating in repeating himself, the ghost of his smile alerting you that he knew why you hadn’t been listening as well.

You weren’t just with Brian though. You spent a lot of your time conversing with Sungjin over recipes you both enjoyed and Wonpil was the sweetest thing ever. You were close to wanting to adopt him and a couple of kittens just to watch them play together. Dowoon had led you all astray multiple times in his impromptu directions and Jae, aside from his dry commentary, well, he was the one you knew the least about.

Considering how wrapped up Lana was with him, you knew she would fill you in on all that you didn’t know tonight back in your room.

The trip out was eventually ended when Jae protested that he came to relax, not work out and wanted to head back to the springs to recharge. With a few photos exchanged of the group, both with and without you and Lana in them, you headed back, all discussing what to have for dinner after the soak in the pool.

You could see the resort up ahead and smiled over at Brian, who winked at you. “Thought you liked the trees?”

“I’ve been among them long enough,” you mused and he nodded at you, his smile captivating you.

And was, no doubt, the reason for why you proceeded to trip over a stone in the pathway, all but face-planting in the fallen fir on the trail. The fall was soft physically, but you were embarrassed. Sure, you were falling for Brian, but you had hoped to be more graceful about it.

“Y/N, are you okay?!” Wonpil cried as Brian helped you up, another set of hands now on your other side. You were mortified, wishing for the ground to have swallowed you up instead. Attempting to step off, you groaned, feeling the way your ankle immediately gave out. Now, you couldn’t even escape as you had planned to.

You cursed your previous resolve of letting Brian enter more of your thoughts than you wanted him to.

Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything now. He was focused on helping you get back, perhaps aware of just how frustrated you were with yourself. You didn’t dare look up at anyone, mumbling a thank you at your room’s door, allowing Lana to help you inside.

You refused to go out to the pool with her.

As you wallowed in your self-pity at how stupid you had been, you decided that you had lost focus once again all because of Brian’s charming smile.

Of course, you were mature enough to realise he wasn’t at fault at all. It wasn’t his problem that his eyes were like dark chocolate, addictive just as his smile was. Intentional flirting or not, it was you who hadn’t been watching.

You had been falling well before you met the ground.

You did go down for dinner, smiling weakly at questions over how you felt and then focusing on your meal quietly thereafter. You felt bad for shutting off from everyone, but that was what you did. You were processing, trying to figure out how to repair your image or at least last out the rest of your time here before going back to the city tomorrow. Away from this place, far from Day6 as they moved onto their music festival and hopefully back into a place where you didn’t feel so out of your depth.

Getting in touch with yourself had come with more risks than you originally believed it to.

After dinner, you went back to your room whilst the others headed to the games room. They had tried to convince you but you were in a poor mood. You just wanted to rest your swollen ankle and watch television quietly in your room.

Brian had other ideas. Getting up to the knock at the door, you found him standing there in his swimming trunks and a towel over his shoulder. He grinned at you. “Come on, I’ll give you ten minutes to change.”

“What, why?” you wondered and then shook your head immediately. “I’m not going swimming, Brian. My leg hurts.”

“I know it does so let me make it right. You have nine minutes now.”

Blinking up at him, you groaned before turning around and shutting the door. Reappearing in your bathing suit, Brian pulled himself off the wall and grinned. “Wow, you listened to me. I half-thought maybe you had gone back to bed.”

“I wish I had,” you mumbled, accepting his help as you hobbled down to the lobby. Instead of taking you outside to the pools, Brian turned to a small pathway that wound around to the back of the building. You were confused. “Where are we going?”

“I rented a private pool. They have ones that have qualities that promote healing.”

“What, you didn’t have to-”

“You were going to avoid me for the rest of the stay, weren’t you?” he stated as he stopped in front of a door, checking the key he held for the number. Slotting it into the lock, Brian then glanced over at you. “I’m sorry I made you fall.”

“It’s not your fault that I’m clumsy, Brian.”

“But I was trying to charm you,” he admitted as he unlocked the door, ushering you inside before shutting it.

“You were what now?”

Brian rubbed at the back of his neck and then gestured at the pool. “Do you need help getting in?”

Nodding, you waited for him to get in front of you, easing you into the pool. With the dim lighting and the fact that it was just the two of you in here, along with Brian’s admission, well, your heart and mind were both racing. It was awfully romantic in here, and the way you looked at him seemed to make him feel questioned.

“I promise, I was only worried about healing your leg. Though, it is really cosy in here, huh?”

“Are you this smooth with every girl you meet?” you asked and Brian shrugged.

“Have you pegged me down as a typical musician who has a girl in each place he goes?”

“No,” you refuted and his smile grew. “I don’t think you’re like that but you definitely know how to make a girl swoon.”

“I could say the same about you,” he commented and you arched an eyebrow at him, Brian laughing as he nodded. “What, do you think this is all one-sided? I did just admit to trying to charm you. I mean, I’ve followed you around all day. Surely, you knew by now that I was interested, even a little.”

“Interest is one thing,” you mentioned, looking at your swollen ankle through the water. You couldn’t tell what it was, but the water did seem to feel like it was helping. Turning your focus back to Brian, you smiled. “But I’m not someone who moves this fast.”

“Sharing a pool together is too fast?” he teased and you couldn’t hide your amusement. Brian nodded. “I’m not in for a weekend fling, Y/N. Rest assured, I want to see more of you.”

“You do?”

“Of course. When I get back from the music festival, how about we meet up? I could take you on an actual date, where the guys aren’t around and it’s just us.”

You smiled, lifting a hand to the space you were in. “I mean, isn’t that what this is right now?”

“Well,” Brian murmured, inching closer and slinging his arm onto the tiled wall behind you. “I guess, now that you point that out, we are kind of on a date, right?”

He leaned in, lips almost brushing against yours when you whispered, “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“Do you kiss on second ones?” he whispered back and you grinned, unable to control how giddy you felt right now. “Do I have to wait for a third or-”

You leaned in and pecked his cheek, stunning Brian into silence. Which you were pretty sure was kind of a feat to do. He looked dazed and you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was right now. The sound of your laughter brought him out of his reverie and he gaped at you.

“I thought you said you don’t kiss on first dates.”

“I was giving you an early gift. You can collect your first kiss on our second date.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he confirmed, and you smiled, nestling into his embrace.

You couldn’t even feel the pain in your ankle now. This pool definitely had healing qualities about it.

Sunday morning arrived and you had possibly the best sleep this year. You didn’t want to admit it was because of how relaxed you felt before climbing into bed or the endearing dreams with Brian that followed you into your slumber, but you were feeling better than you had when you had set out on this journey.

And when you got up to go to the bathroom, you found that the swelling was at a bare minimum and your ankle didn’t even hurt to put weight through it anymore. That was some magical water you were in last night.

So, just as you had yesterday, you set off into the forest, taking the same pathway again. It was comfortable, even at your amble of a pace and you enjoyed soaking in the fresh air under the canopy of nature.

Today you didn’t speak to the trees. You simply smiled at them, enamoured by their size and grace. They stood tall and proud, and you found yourself mimicking this a little, confidence overwhelming you.

Or maybe that was from Brian.

The rest of the night in the pool had been spent talking over your lives, getting to know each other until you both couldn’t take the heat. You had returned to your room after, continuing with getting more acquainted. And whilst you had exuded a lot of control maintaining it was a kiss-free date, you naturally nestled against Brian on your bed at one point and you were sure his lips brushed over your hair then. You felt as if you had known him a whole lot longer than two days.

Which was why when you heard footsteps behind you, you broke out into a grin, not even needing to look to see who it was. “I just had a funny feeling I might catch you out here.”

“Well, you caught me,” you concluded as Brian fell into step at your side, not wasting any time in grabbing your hand. You shot him a look though you were all too pleased with his eagerness.

“I’m not letting you fall again today,” he told you as he held up your linked hands; though you could tell with the flush of colour to his cheeks, there was more behind it. You spent some of the walk in comfortable silence, looking up at him and then sighing. “Check out is at ten-thirty today. I realised you never got to play for us last night.”

“We were a little preoccupied,” he reminded and you nodded shyly. “Besides, we have time for that.”

“I guess we do,” you agreed, sharing another smile with him.

“So I was thinking just now,” he started, clearing his throat a little. “According to our rules last night, I believe this is our second date right now.”

“I was waiting for you to say that,” you admitted with a laugh, giving him an incredulous look. “What’s with you getting me in weird clothing items for dates? I don’t see how walking through a forest together seems like a prime date idea.”

“It is with you, who knows who you might end up talking to if I’m not here,” he humoured and you rolled your eyes, shunting him a little. Brian wasn’t ready for your action and lost his footing a little, stumbling on the track.

And since your hands were connected, you went with him. The tree behind you both stopped your fall this time, though you were acutely aware of how your hands were now braced against the bark of the tree, entrapping Brian in between your arms. He gave you a look before smirking. “Wow, Y/N, I didn’t know you moved so fast.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, ignoring his jest and Brian whined, reaching for his back. You lowered your arms so you could inspect his injury and it was enough for him to grab you and change places.

He pouted down at you. “Aren’t you going to kiss me better?”

“You sneak!” you exclaimed, shaking your head adamantly. “This isn’t a date.”

“Any time with you sure feels like one,” he admitted and you stopped gaping at him, your expression softening. Brian smiled. “Can’t I kiss you? Just once?”

“Well, we are alone,” you stated slowly, feeling your heartbeat increase.

“Except for all the trees,” he pointed out and you sighed heavily. “But that’s okay, they can watch on all they like.”

His lips met yours then, soft and slow, melding against yours tenderly. You were thankful that Brian had pressed you up against the trunk of the tree now, worrying that your legs would give way with how sweet this first kiss was. Letting your arms move up and behind his neck, you linked your hands and kissed him back, aching to taste more of him.

And then he pulled away, breathless yet smirking. “That’s all you get.”

“Wait a minute,” you said, trying to recollect your senses enough to string together a sentence. Instead, you whined, wanting more already.

But Brian shook his head, still smiling down at you. “I guess, you’ll just have to keep going out on dates with me to get to the full experience.”

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lacheriedesole · 4 years

Text

lost town

The announcement echoed loudly from the speaker on the wall. I blinked several times, hazy, unsure of where I am and what is going on. I realised that the train have stopped moving. The wagon that I’m in was nearly empty, hushed, except for an elderly couple walking out toward the left exit door. I gathered my conscience, relieved that I travel light―with only a small backpack―for a week I’m going to spend in this town. No, a town is an overstatement. This small region consists of a single area wide enough for a large family of three or four generations to live nearby.

I took out the crumpled map from the front compartment of the backpack, and studied it one more time. I have been memorising the map days before my travel, but I suggest a quick peek for a final shot won’t be much of a nuisance. This town―it will be much easier if I dress this area with the term―is so small and the borders blurry, the digital map on smartphones won’t be much of a help. Besides, the old map has scribbles and notes on it, a handiwork of my dad who have spent couple times here in his youth. I had no idea why, of all the interesting places and spots to choose for holidays, he chose this godforsaken spot.

The station is quiet and lifeless. Apparently, apart from the elderly couple, I was the only passenger that took off here. This is the last station before the train’s final journey, that explains why the wagon was deserted. There was no station workers, no taxi drivers, no merchants, nothing. The station looks exactly like an empty house that the train happened to stumble to drop off three lost passengers. Except that I am the only one who’s lost.

I recall the pathway to Mister Halcyon’s house, my supposed destination, and confidently marched on. Though the roads were perfectly tranquil, I do not want anyone to notice that I had never been here before and most likely to get lost. Mr. Halcyon is my dad’s senior of his earlier spiritual commune. They were really close, dad admitted that he looks up to Mr. Halcyon a lot, especially since a near-death occurrence that binds them close. Dad sees him as his saviour, long lost brother, almost like his own blood family. That must be why dad spent a lot of time here. This place must held a special meaning for him.

I was pretty sure I traced the right path, when I realised that each and every houses I passed are devoid of sound. It was a perfect silence, the one so loud that even my heartbeats sounded like an uproar. There were movements, of course, but aside from the blowing wind and swaying trees, there were no noticeable human sounds. No hustle bustle of everyday routine, no cries and screams of children, not even a whisper. Even the stinging sun has its own sound here. Well this is weird, I thought. I think I should wait until I get there, to his house, then I can make a judgement. I should hold.

Then I found his house. A serene-looking, medium house with subtle earth colour. Even the materials are natural, mostly woods and rough stones, unpolished. A very humble home. The house has no fence, just like any other houses in the town. The borders are immaculately trimmed berry bushes, or patches of hydrangea. This town sure is peaceful, huh? The people are definitely not concerned of thieves. I stepped on carefully set stones atop the lawn, which I assumed the only place I could set my feet on to. I knocked the door, the brass number plate shows 33 and a small carving reads HALCYON.

I waited for a response, but there was none. I knocked again, louder this time, and I felt like a total idiot. My knocks sounded notoriously loud compared to the stillness wrapping the neighbourhood. I knocked again, still no response, but the door was slightly creaked and opened. I hesitated. It seems that no one was inside. “Hello? Mr. Halcyon? I am Sever’s daughter. My father sent me here. May I come in?” Still no response. My voice echoed faintly to the deep parts of the house. I felt it. “Mr. Halcyon, I am sorry if this is a bad time to visit. I will search for a stay-house nearby and visit you later.”

My brains must be playing tricks on me. I thought I heard a faint ringing of a bell from the inside, beckoning me in. I felt uneasy, turned my back as I made up my mind to leave. The door creaked. I turned to find a still empty house front, the doorway opened wider this time. I was perplexed. My mind was so numb and exhausted that I went in, hesitantly. It was middle of the noon, leaked sun rays illuminated the interiors. The lively living room was hushed, as the other parts of the house. This is peculiar. The house was empty, and yet I went in, barging in. Somehow, the bell rings sounded like an invitation.

I seated myself on the grey sofa, waiting. Anxiously, I opened the map, closed it, opened it again. I did not dare to count the time. I waited and waited for what feels like a day, and I realised that the noon had shifted to dusk. For all the time I was there, everything was still wrapped in the same thick silence. The first noise was on exactly 5 p.m., so sudden that I jumped on my seat. It was coming from the collective ringing and clanging of the clocks in the neighbourhood. Then the lamps switched on, followed by hum of machines turning on, faint television mutter, and glasses clinks. The noises were building up, and suddenly there were distant chatters of people. The first human noise. They were coming from the station.

I had cold sweats and shifted uncomfortably on my seat. I had a terrible feeling about this. Something feels wrong. How did this happen? My thoughts battled whether I have to stay or leave immediately. My brains singled the latter. I snatched my backpack, sneaked out of the house and closed the front door, carefully and soundlessly ran into the shadow of the house side. I crouched and waited.

I could not believe my eyes. The insights felt flurry, hazy, like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare. There were about a dozen men and women, all adults at working age, wearing suits and formal clothing, casually chatting. They seemed to come back from a faraway job. Their faces have feline features. No, they are totally and absolutely feline. The paws with its claws, the round eyes, the triangular ears, the whiskers. They walk completely upright, their tails swaying and lifting on their own. I held my breath.

The group dispersed at every house passed, it seems that every house belongs to one (cat)person. Finally a slim grey cat wearing black suit waved to the rest of the group, heading toward the house. Oh no no no no. I must’ve been dreaming. I must’ve been on the train. This can’t be real. It’s not happening. Right in front of the door, the grey cat turned to my direction, its sharp green eyes piercing the wall I hid behind.

“You must be the daughter of Sever. Come on in, you must be waiting for quite some time.”

Contrary to his sharp appearance, the voice sounds relaxed, friendly, with a hint of modesty. It was really strange. I can’t tell if it was really him who talked as I hid and obscured my whole body. My sweats soaked the back of my shirt.

“I understand it must be strange, scary even. But for you to be able to see us, you must have undergone something grand. Something like near death experiences.”

“Us?” My reply came out as a squeak. “Near death... experiences?”

“Yes. Us. Near death experiences. Please, I can explain your confusion inside. I can’t bear it if my neighbours are watching.”

I gathered what was left of my courage and stood up. I brushed the bottom of my shirt, and stepped into the light. I found myself standing face to face with a standing cat as tall as I am.

“There you are, come in, come in.” His face lighten up and oh well, he really talked. His whisker sways with every syllable, his smile faint.

I felt giddy as I followed him inside, and plunged myself into the same grey sofa.

“The bells let you in, right? I told them there will be a visitor today. That’s why the doors opened.” He explained as he hung his coat and stored his briefcase.

“I must be a poor housemaster, am I not? Let me introduce myself properly then. I am Halcyon, a close friend of your dad. Can you please send him my warm regards when you get back?”

I found it hard to find my voice back. “I will, Mr. Halcyon. And I, I, my name is Nasca. Nasca Sever. It’s been, uh, a pleasure to finally meet you.”

He laughed softly. I swear I heard the bells ring when he laughs. He opened a small fridge and took out two bottles of dewy cold water. “Please, call me Hal. I take it your dad has not explained you thoroughly. You must be really, really surprised. And thirsty. Here’s water. Do you need something to eat?”

“No, thank you. I am not hungry yet.”

He explained the situation in a simple, straightforward facts, as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. The townspeople are cats, they are working with human only if the specific terms, specific time, and specific conditions are fulfilled. Apparently they have something to do with the state of mind, a mental point accessible to those with traumatic and threatening past that interfere their current state. Let’s say we’re mind healers. No, not really. But you can take it that way. He explained it with a plain bluntness. Supposedly that was how dad and Hal met.

As I sat there on a plump grey seat, dumbfounded, half-full water bottle in my backpack pocket, I wondered, How the hell did my father discover such a strange world?

#short story #watercolour #cat town

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tyrannysaurusfloof · 5 years

Text

Stricken Voice

(A fic giveaway for @cabooseyhevehicledestroyer)

Summary: Siren Mark escapes turbulent seas and runs into Elven Jack, who is not a big fan of the Elven lifestyle.

Where choppy seas would have been difficult to navigate for even the most experienced sailor, they were no problem for a siren, even an injured one. Mark had been raised in the ocean, mastering the waves, the hidden currents and everything in between, but they were definitely a lot easier when at full health. Injured as he was, swimming was difficult, but he was forcing himself through the cold water, breaths coming in short bursts with the entire ache in his body. No matter what pain he was in, Mark needed to get out of the sea, onto the rocks, away from his aura, and on land he wouldn’t be able to find him, sense him, and there was no way for him to hurt him anymore.

So preoccupied with swimming to escape, Mark nearly crashed full pelt into the rocks he was searching for, lining a shore bordered by thick forests. With immense effort, Mark pulled himself from the sea before flopping onto his back, gasping with the effort and shivering, shock overcoming him now he was free.

“Fuck.”

All he could do was curse, and examine his side, a blossom of bruises surrounding the large stab wound to his stomach. The pain only got worse as his tail began to separate, becoming human legs as it always did when he escaped the water. It hurt, but Mark was used to it. How he was still alive Mark couldn’t say, but he was and he needed help to stay alive, and he needed it now.

Being a siren, there was only one way for him to get it.

Mark hated singing, hating using the allure of his voice to bring people to their ultimate demise, and he rarely ever did. In this situation, he didn’t have a choice. He was going to die if he didn’t and he would win. It was the only way forward, no matter the consequences.

Gathering himself enough to calm his breath around the shock of bleeding, Mark began to sing, low at first but gaining momentum as he gained confidence, and power from his own voice. The lyrics floated into the woods, and Mark could only hope someone lived close enough to the ocean to hear them.

–

Wandering close to the shore was always a more peaceful experience than elven society, Jack thought. He would spend as much time as he could close to the sea, savouring the way the wave crashed, roared and broke free of any constraints, much in how Jack wanted to do. Elven society was too quiet, ordered and calm, and they needed too much structure to run and Jack didn’t fit inside that all that well. He wasn’t exactly opposed to structure, but he just couldn’t be himself among his own people because he wanted more than the life offered to him there; freedom, excitement and fun.

It was a sad reality, but it was his.

Jack wandered by the ocean as much as he could to escape that. He had heard rumours of a colony on the other side of the forest where elves lived free of the structured rules of the elves he currently lived with, and he really wanted to go there. It was impossible for him to do so, but Jack liked to wander by the waves with the hope that one of the other elves would meet him and invite him to come back with them, yet it hadn’t happened yet.

Normally walking by the shore was silent except for the waves, but through the roar of the sea today Jack was sure he could hear a voice on the wind. More specifically, a song, low and gentle in the wind, sung with such an enticing voice that Jack began to wander towards it without thinking. He was hearing a call to freedom, and he wanted it with all his heart meaning he couldn’t help himself. At first, when he ended up on the rocks, Jack didn’t see the person singing lying right by the waves, too caught up in walking into the sea to find it. It was only when the singing faltered and Jack managed to blink to his senses that he saw the man lying on the rocks, bleeding badly from his gut and soaked with sea water. He was still whisper-singing, but the song was not as enticing anymore, and panic easily set in.

“Shit!” Jack cursed, rushing to the man’s side and pushing his sodden hair out of his face to see if he was still conscious. Mark was, barely, whispering his song but he startled when Jack dropped down beside him and the singing stopped. “Are you okay?!” Jack asked loudly, hands automatically going to cover the wound to try and stop the bleeding as he tried to think of what to do. “What happened?!”

All Mark could do was whisper “Help me, please” over and over.

Without thinking too much about it, Jack ripped off his shirt and tied it around the stab wound as a makeshift tourniquet, before grabbing Mark under the arms and hoisting him to his feet. Grunting under the dead weight of the stranger, Jack stood his ground so he didn’t cause any more damage.

“Can you walk?” He asked, “I’m gonna need your help.”

Mark mumbled as he staggered forward, gripping Jack tightly and slowly managing to put one foot in front of the other, helping Jack as much as he could. Jack led him away from the sea, towards the trees, and each step away from his natural habitat made it harder to keep upright, but Mark struggled on now help had arrived. Thanking his lucky stars that he had a secret passage back to his home, Jack supported Mark through the passage he had spent time making for ease of escaping the stifling life of elven society.

Despite having help, Mark couldn’t help but singing softly to make sure this person didn’t leave him.

“You need to be quiet!” Jack hissed, “Someone will hear us.”

The man didn’t listen to him, almost didn’t seem to realise that he was still singing and Jack could barely keep himself walking towards his home when all he could hear was freedom in Mark’s voice. He lived alone, and Jack was glad for that even more now than ever before. Dropping Mark onto the bed, he quickly gathered the necessary equipment he needed to deal with the stab wound, even though he was barely qualified to do anything like this. The stranger had passed out, dark smudges under his eyes and skin extremely pale from blood loss, Jack knew he needed to do something now. Calling on the power of the earth to help him, Jack didn’t know how long he worked for, but by the time the wound was stitched up, Mark was breathing evenly and all Jack could do now was hope he would wake.

–

Mark’s eyes fluttered open and he was immediately hit with the smell of earth mixed with blood. Without question, his brain panicked telling him he needed to find water, salt water and fast to help in healing his wound. He could vaguely remember someone dropping to their knees beside him when he was signing, but he seemed to be alone now, which was not good. Despite the pain, and the ache, Mark swung his legs out of the bed and struggled to his feet. He needed the bathroom, he needed salt. He needed water.

Just as he was taking his first shaky steps, the door burst open and an elf appeared, green hair windswept to one side of his head and blue eyes wide at the sight of Mark standing there. He slammed the door to stop anyone from seeing him, almost frozen in place.

“S-shouldn’t you be in bed?” Jack asked quietly, approaching Mark slowly as if he was a cornered animal.

“I…I…need salt…salt water!” Mark gasped out, reaching for the elf as he wavered on his feet.

Jumping into action, Jack grabbed salt from a drawer before dragging Mark towards the bathroom, where he forced the man to sit down while he ran water into the bath. Sprinkling the salt into it, Jack kept one eye on Mark while making sure he ran enough water for the man to clamber in. As soon as there was enough to cover him, Mark pushed Jack aside and slid into the water, fully clothed and desperate. The effect on his body was instantaneous.

A tail now lay curled in the bath where Mark’s legs had been, what Jack had assumed were small scars on his neck turned out to be gills and when Mark slipped down the bath so he was under the water and a peaceful expression came over him, it all fell into place.

Mark was a siren.

Oh…the elves would love that if they knew, Jack though sarcastically. Normally, he should have been scared, for sirens were known to lure elves to their death by the waves, but he wasn’t, inside he was gleeful. This was perfect. A sign of freedom, so close to his grasp.

“You’re a siren!” He declared.

Mark’s eyes opened under the water and Jack saw how he went tense. Pushing himself back up but making sure to keep his wound under the still running water, Mark pushed his hair out of his eyes and nodded.

“Yes, I am. And you’re an elf.” He stated, “Why did you help me?”

“I heard you singing, but when I saw you and found you bleeding I had to help you. There wasn’t any other choice.” Jack shrugged, examining Mark’s tail as he spoke. The siren shied away from him, hiding his tail in the water as Jack reached out to touch it.

“Thank you.” He whispered, distracting Jack back to his focus, “My name is…Mark.”

“Hello Mark.” Jack smiled, “I’m Jack.” He held out his hand for Mark to shake and the siren did so nervously. His skin felt strange, a little stronger than Jack’s own, and a little scaly almost. Definitely different from how it had been when Jack had been working on him last night, the effect of salt water, Jack assumed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better thank you.” Mark rasped, “Thanks to you. I hope my song didn’t affect you too much.”

“Nope, I heard a song that was pretty great, but it didn’t lure me into the sea, which was good.” Jack laughed. He sank down to sit next to the tub, turning the water off so the bath didn’t flood and Mark shifted so he was looking directly at him with a wry smile.

“That’s what you think sirens do?” He inquired, rolling his eyes when Jack nodded.

“Isn’t it?”

Mark laughed lowly, coughing as he did and Jack looked torn between concerned and affronted.

“We don’t sing to lure people to the sea, or to their deaths. Whenever you hear a siren singing, you hear them singing about what you want most in those songs, and that’s what lures you in.” Mark paused and fixed Jack with an odd stare. “Your desire is freedom.”

Flushing at the implication, Jack tried to shrug it off. “Is that so bad?”

“No.” Mark murmured, “It’s probably what I would hear in that scenario as well.”

Silence fell between them after that, Mark relaxing into the water and slipping his head back under so he was completely submerged and Jack sitting awkwardly by the bath and thinking quietly.

Finally, Mark broke the silence.

“Is there a natural salt pool near here? Something that isn’t fed by the ocean?” He asked, shifting in the bath again and pulling himself free of the water. His tail split to legs again and he sat on the side of the bath while Jack scrambled to get him a towel.

“There’s definitely rock pools and caves around here, but I don’t know if they’re fed by the ocean.” The elf replied, “Um…I can find out for you?” He wanted to ask why Mark was being so specific, but he didn’t feel it was his place to ask. The siren was looking at him with a serious gaze that Jack felt nervous to truly find a good place for him.

“It has to be free of any ocean water, otherwise I won’t be safe.” Mark said firmly. “If you could find out, I’d be eternally grateful.”

Nodding mutely, Jack left the bathroom and went over to his map of the area. Since he loved exploring and getting out of the stifling elven society, Jack knew most of the surrounding area well, but referring to a map would be more helpful. Mark followed him, wrapped in the towel but still dripping water onto the floor. He was stiff from the wound but definitely stronger than he had been before, looking at the map over Jack’s shoulder.

“Sentries Cave is the best bet for a pool free of ocean water.” Jack muttered, pointing to a marked spot just outside of the elven forest, on a secluded bend of coastline. “The elves built it hundreds of years ago to watch the sea for attackers. It’s fed by rivers and lakes from further inland, but it’s definitely salt water, I’ve been swimming there before. No connection to the sea, as far as I know.”

Mark sighed in relief. “That’s good. Thank you for helping me Jack, but I must be going to that cave.”

“Wait!” Jack cried as Mark went for the door, grabbing the siren’s hand. “You can’t go out there!”

“Why not?” Mark asked, an amused smile on his face.

“Well, for one, the elves out there would recognise you as a siren on sight and kill you.” Jack replied hastily, “Two, you’re basically naked!”

“So, how do you propose to get me to the cave?” Mark inquired, folding his arms, subsequently pulling his wrist out of Jack’s grip. “I need to be near salt water, I can’t stay here, it’s stifling.”

“Tell me about it.” Jack muttered, “I have a secret way out of the city, considering the elves don’t really like us exploring too much of the outside world. It’s how I got you here, and it’s how I’ll get you out, but I need to get you some clothes first.”

“I doubt anything you have will fit me.” Mark teased, grinning as Jack flustered for a reply. He wasn’t used to being able to joke and tease with someone like this before, but he wasn’t going to let Mark have the upper hand for long.

“Sorry I don’t have anything for a tail that can split into legs.” He retorted. It was weak, but it was good enough and Mark smiled and shook his head. “Just stay here, in the salt water if you must, and I’ll find something for you.”

Nodding, Mark disappeared back into the bathroom as Jack ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. Gossip spread fast in elven society, surprisingly considering how it was set up, and if Jack was seen buying clothes far too big for him, everyone would want to know why. Mark would be killed on sight, as the elves believed sirens to be dangerous, and there was something in Jack telling him he had to protect this man. Whoever had attacked him, and stabbed him, was clearly still a threat, since Mark was so concerned with being kept somewhere not connected to his natural home. Rushing through the city, Jack quickly slipped into a clothing store and looked around for clothes that would fit Mark. It was difficult to tell from sight alone, but Jack managed to find a tunic and some soft pants.

The store was empty, and though it hurt to do so, Jack slipped the clothes into his bag when he was sure no one was looking. He could pay for them later, reveal what he had done later, but first, he needed to help Mark.

Several elves called to him as he ran home, and Jack replied with a short greeting and carried on running. Suspicious behaviour to anyone that didn’t know Jack, but since every single elf knew Jack, and how weird he could be, no one questioned it. They all assumed Jack was getting ready to run out of the limits of the city and go on an adventure, and they wouldn’t have been wrong, really. By the time he finally returned home, Jack was anxious, but also elated.

Mark was waiting for him, sitting in the bath with his head in his hands. He seemed to be concentrating on something, but as soon as he heard Jack walk into the room he clambered from it and reached for the clothes.

“You could stay here until you’re fully healed, you know?” Jack suggested, turning away as Mark quickly shook the water from his hair, towelled himself dry and then slipped into the clothes. They fit him oddly, almost as if they didn’t belong on him, and Jack had to remind himself that they didn’t. Mark was a siren, and a siren wearing elven clothing was bound to look odd.

“I need to be near salt water.” Mark countered, “And while your bath is lovely, it isn’t enough. Can we go now?”

Jack chewed his lip. Something was telling him not to let Mark go, to try and keep him here and find out exactly what had led him to this mess. Whether it was morbid curiosity, a desire to protect him, or because Mark promised more freedom than Jack had ever tasted, he wasn’t sure, but he needed to get the story.

“I’ll take you.” He said slowly, and Mark smiled in relief, “On one condition.”

The smile immediately turned to anger. “What?! Are you serious?” Mark demanded, “What do you want? My tail? My scales? My fins? How about you just take my entire life?!”

“Whoa, calm down!” Jack exclaimed, “I don’t want anything half as bad as all that! What would I even do with it?!”

Mark still looked angry, and defensive, his entire posture changed. He was ready to run, and Jack knew he had to pick his next words carefully.

“I just want to know what happened,” He said as calmly as he could, “Why you need a cave that’s not connected to the sea, how you ended up stabbed and bleeding to death on the shore…I know it’s not my place to know but…I can’t help but be curious.”

Alarm bells began to ring in Mark’s head, but he squashed them for the moment. Jack had saved him, had done everything right so far and was even willing to bring him somewhere safe, the least he could do was tell the elf what had happened. There was no way he was going to be able to do anything about it anyway, considering he was stuck to the land. Sighing, he nodded.

“Take me to the cave, and on the way, I’ll tell you the story.”

–

When Mark was holed up in the cave, fully submerged under the water and happy enough that there was a food supply for him, Jack began the slow walk back to his house. The story had been horrid to hear, and Jack was worried about leaving Mark alone, but the siren had insisted. It was getting late, the sun beginning to set over the ocean as Jack walked along the edge, a little too worked up to go directly back home.

If this “Dark” that Mark had told him about did come for him, Jack wasn’t entirely sure whether the siren would be able to fight him off. From the story, he had sounded strong, and manipulative and willing to use anything in his power to better Mark, and take control. It had sent shivers down Jack’s spine at the mere thought of him, and the fact that Mark was going to go back and face him when he had his strength back worried him. He couldn’t help, but he wanted to.

As he neared the edges of the forest, ready to sneak back through his hidden passage and get home, Jack heard voices and froze. He knew all the voices of the elves that lived in his city, there weren’t that many of them, and they were an open society, but these voices were different, alluring and musical, with the power to draw someone in. Luckily, Jack recognised it immediately as the voice of a siren, and he shoved his hands over his ears to block out the more alluring side.

Hidden behind a tree, Jack glanced about to see if he could see who was talking. There didn’t seem to be anyone there, but he could definitely hear speaking, and the words chilled him to the core.

“He is here, somewhere.” The voice was low, almost a growl, “I can sense him.”

“Is he out of the water, sir?”

“…No. He’s in water somewhere. We have to find him, now.”

Jack knew they were talking about Mark, it was the only thing that made sense. Panic went to settle in, but Jack swallowed it down, climbing up into the trees easily to make sure that wherever the sirens were, he wasn’t going to let them catch him. He needed to warn Mark, but he also needed to get home. There was no way the sirens were going to find Mark, not hidden like he was, but Jack was going to go right back to him as soon as he had gone home and collected some weaponry.

Before Jack could move, a hand grabbed him and pinned him to a tree. Giving a strangled cry, Jack fought as best he could, but to no avail. Blinking the panic from his eyes, Jack found himself face to face with…Mark? No, not Mark, but someone who looked extremely familiar to him. Red eyes instead of brown, a sneering smile instead of a comforting one, and skin that seemed tinged grey. Another siren, if the gills that looked like scars were a clear giveaway, and Jack’s stomach dropped.

The one that was looking for Mark.

“Ah, an elf.” The siren murmured and Jack shivered at the tingle that ran through him at his words, the musical tone there that made Jack react perfectly to him. It was so different to how Mark had spoken. There was no evidence in Mark’s tone when he spoke of the lilting, musical, enticing powers of a siren, but this man, this man definitely did and Jack tried to fight against the feelings as best he could. “What is someone like you doing out here, all alone?”

“I live around here.” Jack spat back, struggling to get free.

The siren chuckled and Jack froze. “Of course you are. Lying to me is not a good move, so, how about we start with something a little more personal. Tell me your name.”

“I…Jack.” The words were pulled from Jack’s lips and he grimaced at the siren.

“Not that hard, was it? My name is Dark.”

It was tempting to spit that he knew who this siren was, and to fight as much as he could, but Jack didn’t want to giveaway that he knew Mark and knew where he was hiding. Dark didn’t seem too phased by the lack of response, and he released Jack to allow him a little more room to move, but he still hemmed him in against the tree, cracking his neck and running his eyes up and down Jack’s entire body, taking him in, eying him up, deciding if any part of him was a threat.

“I’m looking for someone,” Dark continued quietly, softly, his tone encouraging Jack to open up and listen to him. “Another siren. Have you seen him, in your wanders?”

Jack shook his head, afraid if he did indeed open his mouth he would tell Dark exactly where Mark was.

“Well, if you did, you’d seek me out and tell me, right?” Dark purred, stroking cold fingers down Jack’s cheek.

“I…yes.” Jack whispered, “I would.”

“Good boy.” Dark smirked, “Now, run on home.”

Without a word, Jack slipped out of Dark’s grasp and ran off, back towards the elven city. It didn’t occur to him that the siren would follow him, he was just so desperate to be away from him and back in the safety of his home. The other elves didn’t talk to him, just shot him an odd look, but Jack was used to that. As soon as he was home, Jack slammed and locked the door and leant against it, breathing heavily. There was no doubt in his mind that Dark knew he knew exactly where Mark was, and the siren would try to draw the information from him, one way or another, but he needed to warn Mark that the other siren was close.

Rummaging through his closet, Jack withdrew a crossbow he had fashioned for himself, along with bolts and began to gather armour that was gathering dust at the back of his wardrobe. Apart from the voice, sirens could have terrible claws, teeth and weapons, although Jack had never heard of an elf and a siren getting into an altercation, so what sort of weapons he didn’t know. Still, he needed to warn Mark.

The secret passage out of his house seemed the easiest way for him to go, but something told Jack that Dark was waiting for him there. Chewing at his lip, Jack hid the crossbow under his coat and decided to leave the normal way, so that the elves would see him leaving and he didn’t come back, someone would at least know he had disappeared. Rushing about as much as he was would definitely make some of the elves living there suspicious, and that was exactly what Jack wanted.

The trees were eerily silent and Jack was nervous. It was almost as if all the forest creatures knew the sirens were around and had scarpered, and Jack wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. Three hours after he had first took Mark to the cave, Jack reached the entrance again and sighed quietly. There didn’t seem to be any sounds of struggle inside, and he could hear Mark singing gently to himself inside. Taking a calming breath, Jack went to step into the cave and call out to the siren.

Only for hands to grab him and drag him to the ground.

“I knew you would lead me straight to him.”

Dark’s voice echoed above him, and Jack struggled, opening his mouth to scream. Before he could, Dark’s hands curled around his mouth and pulled him close against his body, effectively silencing Jack. His breath was hot against his cheek as the siren curled around his body and smiled.

“So, Mark is in here. Thank you for leading me here, Jack. Now, let’s go in there.” He purred.

He forced Jack in front of him, walking along the slippery rocks of the cave until they turned round the bend and found Mark sitting on the edge of the pool, tail flipping the water as he sang calmly. The wounds that had been so evident on his body before were now mostly healed, which Jack was glad for considering what he felt was about to happen. At the sound of Jack’s footsteps, Mark turned his head with a smile, assuming it was the elf. The smile froze when he saw Dark behind the elf, holding him as if they were comfortable with each other.

“Hello, Mark.” Dark greeted, “Such a pleasure to find you. We really need to get you home.”

“How…how did you find me?!” Mark demanded, sliding completely out of the water and scrambling to his feet. On land he had a chance to outrun Dark, but the siren was blocking the only exit, and holding the only person on land that Mark could have potentially trusted was standing next to Dark. “Did you lead him here?!”

“Not willingly.” Jack cried, “I swear!”

“Oh don’t blame the elf.” Dark chuckled, “He did lead me here, but only because he’s so bad at lying. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Mark. Come with me now, and he doesn’t get hurt.”

Jack felt the sharp claws at his neck before he saw Dark change, and he drew in a shocked breath. Mark’s eyes widened as well, and his own form changed slightly, teeth sharpening over his lips and claws extending past the end of his fingertips. It was sudden, and scary, and Jack had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing the freedom he craved now he was caught in the middle of this.

“Don’t hurt him.” Mark whispered, “Please. He’s done nothing but help me.”

“For that he deserved death.” Dark shrugged, “But he’s a good tool to use against you I see. So, let me put it this way for you. You have twenty-four hours to make your decision about whether you’re going to give everything to me, and come home so I can take it. Or, whether you’re going to let me make a nice snack out of…Jack here.”

The way Dark purred his name made Jack shiver and he wasn’t sure whether it was because he was disturbed or turned on because of the tone of the siren’s voice. Mark opened his mouth to reply, but Dark clicked his fingers and Mark froze again, falling backwards into the water.

“Mark!”

“Don’t worry, he’s fine, just sleeping.” Dark murmured. From a pocket he pulled a length of rope and tied Jack up before pushing him over onto the rocks and crossing to Mark. He had taken Jack’s crossbow from him, and with a simple look, he shot a bolt right through Mark’s tail so the siren couldn’t swim away, or turn himself back into a human. “Let the game begin.” Dark smiled, cracking his neck and settling on the side of the pool, waiting for Mark to wake.

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #darkiplier #siren!mark #elf!jack #siren!dark #repost #so queue me

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