Chapter Text
The warehouse smelled of rust, gun oil, and the faint metallic tang of blood that never quite washed out of the concrete floors. Shadows stretched long under the flickering industrial lights as fists flew and knives flashed in the dim glow.
Jungkook ducked under a swinging crowbar from one of the traders, his tattooed arm snapping forward to drive a fist into the man’s throat with a sickening crunch. The man gagged, stumbling back, only for Jungkook to follow through with a brutal knee to the ribs that sent him crashing into a stack of wooden crates. Splintered wood exploded outward, revealing the illegal shipment they’d come for: crates stamped with forged customs marks, packed with high-grade weapons and bundles of cash.
Taehyung fired two precise shots from his silenced pistol, dropping another attacker who had tried to flank them. The suppressor whispered death, and the body hit the ground with a dull thud. Jin moved beside him like a shadow, his blade slicing clean through a throat in one fluid motion. No wasted energy. The fight burned out fast. Five dead, two more zip-tied and moaning on the floor amid splintered crates.
The shipment was theirs—high-grade weapons headed for the black market, enough profit to keep their triad untouchable for months.
Jungkook stood over the last conscious man, boot pressed to the man’s chest, gun aimed casually at his head. “You thought you could undercut us? Steal our routes?” His voice was low, almost playful, but the impulse to pull the trigger and kill the man shimmered right beneath the surface.
“Tell your boss next time he tries to undercut us, we’ll mail him your head in a fucking gift box.”
“Jungkook!” Jin’s voice cut through like a blade. Authoritative. “Enough. We need him alive to deliver the message.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened, finger twitching on the trigger. For a second, it looked like he might ignore the order—just one more kill to satisfy the adrenaline roaring in his veins. Then he exhaled sharply and stepped back, holstering his weapon with a scoff. “Fine. Lucky bastard.”
They loaded the crates into a waiting black van under the dockside drizzle. Jungkook blasted music in the vehicle as he took the van to the destination.
Taehyung rode with Jin, the city lights streaking past the tinted windows. Jin’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, knuckles pale. His full lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Taehyung had never seen him smiling during jobs. Never during discussions either. It was as if warmth had been carved out of him years ago, leaving only the calculating core of a man who had clawed his way to the top of their triad.
Taehyung leaned back in the passenger seat, cleaning blood from under his nails with a small knife. He didn’t know why there was always a tension between them.
“Jungkook sometimes so unbelievable,” he muttered finally, breaking the silence, starting a conversation, “… if he’d pulled the trigger, we’d have another body to dispose of. More heat from the cops.” he laughed.
Jin didn’t respond immediately. The compound gates loomed ahead, heavy steel sliding open with a mechanical whine. They parked in the underground garage and only then did Jin turn to him, voice low and measured. “We need to talk. Privately.” Taehyung’s stomach twisted, but he nodded.
The office was all dark wood and cold steel—monitors glowing with live feeds of their arms routes and laundering fronts.
Jin poured two glasses of whiskey, sliding one across the desk to Taehyung before sitting down. He didn’t touch his own drink yet. His gaze was steady, unblinking at Taehyung who took the glass and started to sip. “ I have a proposal.”
Taehyung froze mid-sip. The dark amber liquid burned on the way down. “What?” Jin leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled. His face remained impassive, handsome features carved from stone. “ One wrong move, and our entire network collapses. He kills without thinking about the consequences—draws unnecessary attention. The police are already sniffing around the last disposal. If he keeps this up, he’ll bring us all down.”
Taehyung set the glass down hard enough that whiskey sloshed. Shock rippled through him, cold and sharp. “Hyung, i don't want to have this conversation again. The kid who brought you here, who built half these with his own hands.”
“Not a kid anymore,” Jin corrected, voice still calm, almost gentle in its detachment. He crossed his legs and leaned back. “He’s a liability. And the only way for us to run this empire without someone constantly threatening to blow it up with his temper—is to remove him. Cleanly. Quietly.“
Taehyung shook his head as he pictured Jungkook’s grin after a successful deal, the way his laughter filled the safehouse after a fight, the fierce loyalty that had saved Taehyung’s life more times than he could count.
“ Hyung! Stop this madness. What the fuck are you saying?”
“ I need your support Taehyung.” Jin’s eyes narrowed slightly, the only crack in his composure. “It has to be us who do it. Not some outsider.“
“I will tell jungkook.”
“You won’t.” Jin’s voice stayed ice-cold, flat, certain. Taehyung’s eyes followed him as he leaned forward to take the glass and sipped his whiskey. “ Even if you do, he won’t believe you.”
Taehyung pressed his lips together and immediately got up without saying anything.
Jin remained seated, the amber liquid in his glass catching the low light as he watched Taehyung’s retreating figure. His gaze traced the broad line of those shoulders, tense with barely contained fury, then drifted lower along the swell of his ass to the confident stride of his long legs. The sight stirred something deep and unspoken in his chest—a quiet heat that had lingered for years, masked beneath layers of control.
He took another slow sip, letting the warmth of the whiskey mirror the one building inside him, even as the door slammed shut with finality.
————————————————
Over the next week, the compound buzzed with normalcy on the surface. Deals were made, shipments moved, bodies quietly vanished.
Jungkook remained oblivious, throwing himself into sessions after sessions late-night strategy talks. He clapped Taehyung on the back after a successful arms drop, praising him.
But Taehyung couldn’t meet his eyes sometimes.
One day rain pattered softly against the glass as Jungkook sprawled on couch, gesturing animatedly at a route marked in red on the map. Taehyung sat across from him, leaning forward to point out a weak point in the territory. The door suddenly opened with a quiet click and Jin stepped in, carrying a sleek matte box.
Taehyung looked up as Jin set it on the table, right beside the scattered papers. “Chocolates,” Jin said, voice flat as usual as he took his seat beside Jung kook.
Taehyung blinked at the box. Imported Belgian, The rich scent of cocoa already curled through the room, tempting. He did love sweets after a long day—sugar to cut the metallic aftertaste of violence. His fingers brushed the lid, hesitating only a moment before opening it. The chocolates gleamed. Jungkook immediately reached over and popped one into his mouth with a satisfied hum.
Taehyung laughed looking at his face and kneeled down taking one, the dark chocolate melted slowly on his tongue, bitter-sweet and luxurious. His eyes closed and a soft sound of appreciation escaped him before he could stop it.
Then he remembered —months ago, during one of those rare quiet nights, he’d mentioned in passing how he preferred dark, bitter-sweet kind of chocolate over anything too milky or sugary. It had been a throwaway comment, tossed out while they were sprawled on the couches after a long day. He hadn’t thought anyone was really listening. Taehyung swallowed the last of the chocolate, the rich bitterness still coating his tongue as he opened his eyes. Jin was already watching him. Intensely. Those dark eyes were locked on his face, patient and focused, as if he’d been waiting the whole time just to see his reaction.
Taehyung felt heat rush to his cheeks. “It’s good,” he murmured softly. “I liked it. Thank you… hyung.”
Jungkook, oblivious and still chewing happily, reached for another piece with a grin. “These are good. Where’d you get them, hyung?”
Jin didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained fixed on Taehyung a beat longer, then giving the barest nod he turned his attention to the maps as if nothing had passed between them.
Taehyung glanced back down at the elegant box in his hands. This was new. A swirl of confusion and warmth filled his chest.
Taehyung found himself surprised all over again the second time Jin brought him flowers. Deep crimson roses, thorns trimmed, in a simple matte vase. Jin set them on the side table like they were just another tactical folder.
“For the room,” he cleared his throat.
Taehyung could only stare with wide eyes. Taehyung’s apartment—usually sparse and functional, with its leather couches, weapon lockers disguised as furniture—began to feel different. Warmer, almost. He found himself glancing at the flowers when Jin spoke, their petals a stark contrast to the man delivering them.
“Hyung what are you doing?" Taehyung said during one session, voice hesitant as he accepted yet another small gift: a red silk tie. Jin didn’t answer right away. He simply looked at Taehyung and stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the apartment as if the question hadn’t even been asked. Taehyung blinked, heart fluttering, and quietly followed him inside, still clutching the gift bag with the red silk tie. The door clicked shut behind them.
Jin leaned back against the couch, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his gaze steady on Taehyung. “ Nothing” he just answered simply.
Taehyung didn’t push.
Taehyung noticed the pattern soon. Every time they met here, in his own apartment, Jin brought something—Never at the warehouse or the safehouse. Only here. Deep down, a quiet anticipation began to build each time he heard the knock at his door when the discussion held at his place. Taehyung wasn’t used to any of it.
Jin’s visits became the anchor Taehyung both dreaded and anticipated. He’d catch himself wondering, just before opening it, what Jin would bring this time. The thought lingered longer than it should have, warming something in his chest he wasn’t ready to name.
Jin’s eyes always flickered to Taehyung secretly. His eyes would linger a fraction longer, tracing the way his fingers brushed the newest gift, as if he could read every unspoken question behind the younger man’s careful expression.
_______________
“You can’t be serious, hyung,” Taehyung hissed, voice low but sharp. “I thought the evilness was gone after all this. You’re still after Jungkook?”
Jin’s jaw tightened and When their knees brushed under the table, Jin didn’t move his leg away. The contact burned—thigh to thigh, heat bleeding through fabric. Taehyung’s breath hitched. He shifted, but Jin’s leg followed, pressing firmer, deliberate. His face remained impassive, as he looked at taehyung, “The evilness never leaves, Taehyung-ah,” he murmured, voice smooth and low, eyes never leaving his. “It only learns to wear better suits.”
Taehyung swallowed hard, heart hammering. He didn’t know how they had ended up like this — thigh pressed against thigh, tension crackling in the air, Jin’s gaze pinning him in place. Just minutes ago they had been calmly talking about shipments, routes, and schedules.
“You okay?” Jungkook said popping his popsicle as he glanced between them from the other side of the table. Taehyung forced his gaze away from Jin’s steady stare, the warmth of the pressed leg still searing through his slacks. His pulse hammered wildly. “Yes we were just talking.”
Jungkook shrugged, licking the popsicle casually, and leaned forward. “Alright. So, about the routes — I think we should take the eastern corridor instead. It’s riskier but faster, and we can avoid the usual checkpoints if we time it right…”
Taehyung nodded faintly, trying to focus on Jungkook’s words, but all he could feel was Jin’s leg still pressed firmly against his under the table. He turned his gaze at Jin who still hadn’t moved his head to look at jungkook’, “You won’t do anything hyung.”
Jin’s jaw clenched as his eyes lingered on Taehyung’s face, drinking in the sharp line of his clenched jaw, the fierce set of his brows, the way anger made his features even sharper, more striking. His gaze drifted to the small, dark moles scattered across Taehyung’s face—one just beneath his left eye, another lightly kissing the curve of his cheek and lips.
So pretty, Jin clenched his fist as he forced himself to look away.
--------
Taehyung kept his eye on Jin from that day.
So he didn't miss when Jin had positioned himself perfectly on the catwalk above, silenced rifle steady, angle clean for a single shot that would look like crossfire from the enemy. His chest tightened with sharp anxiety as he moved without thinking, shouting a warning about an incoming flank that forced Jungkook to dive left just as the shot would have landed. The bullet buried itself in a box lying near instead.
Jungkook rolled up laughing, dusting himself off. Jin lowered the rifle. He said nothing, only glanced down at Taehyung with that weighted look they now shared.
Taehyung’s pulse hammered. Later he pulled Jin aside and grabbed his collar with both hands before shoving him against the cold metal wall roughly. “You almost killed him out there,”
Taehyung hissed, his deep voice low and urgent, face inches from Jin’s. Jin’s eyes flicked down to where Taehyung’s fists gripped his collar, the fabric bunching tightly in those strong big hands.
He knew exactly how powerful Taehyung was—had seen him break bones and flip men twice his size—but Jin was stronger, always had been.
With calm precision, Jin’s hand shot up, fingers wrapping firmly around both of Taehyung’s wrists to yank them down. With a smooth, powerful yank, he twisted one arm behind Taehyung’s back, and pulling him in close until their bodies collided—chest to chest, hips brushing. The grip was firm, controlled, never painful, but unbreakable. Jin’s other hand came up to brace against the wall beside Taehyung’s head, caging him in as he pushed him against it.
Taehyung’s breath hitched sharply. They were suddenly so close he could feel the steady rise and fall of Jin’s chest, the heat radiating from him, the faint trace of cologne mixed with gunpowder. He squirmed against the hold, trying to create even an inch of space, heart slamming against his ribs.
“Hyung, you’re doing too much now. Leave me!” Taehyung growled, voice strained, cheeks burning with a mix of anger and something hotter he refused to name. Jin yanked him even closer, tightening the grip on his wrist just enough to emphasize his point, their faces now mere inches apart. His eyes lingered on Taehyung’s face —before locking onto his gaze. “Are you going to save him at every chance?” Jin asked, voice low and dangerously calm, his breath warm against Taehyung’s lips.
“Keep throwing yourself between him and what needs to be done?” Taehyung’s mind reeled, the closeness making it impossible to think straight. “He’s like my little brother,” he managed, trying to sound steady even as heat flooded his body. “I won’t let you-“
“Then what am I?” Jin asked quietly, the words slipping out like a blade wrapped in velvet. Taehyung opened his mouth, but no answer came. The question hung heavy between them, stealing every word from his tongue. What are you to me?
His thoughts fractured—my hyung but still he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t answer. Jin watched the silence stretch across Taehyung’s face for one long second. Then, without warning, he released the wrist and pushed taehyung back slightly, just enough to break the suffocating closeness.
He stepped back a few as their eyes stay locked—one final, weighted stare that crackled with everything unsaid Taehyung turned and ran, boots pounding against the damp concrete. He didn’t look back.
Jin stayed where he was for a moment, gaze fixed on the ground where Taehyung had stood, jaw still tight. Only after the sound of running footsteps faded a bit did he slowly lift his eyes. His expression remained unreadable but his fingers flexed once at his side, as if remembering the warmth of skin and the rapid pulse beneath it.
---------
The narrow back alleys behind the old meatpacking district was turned into a warzone. Rain poured down in sheets, turning the ground into a slick, blood-streaked mess. Gunfire echoed off brick walls as the three fought desperately to push through to their escape vans. Taehyung had his pistol barking as he dropped a man who lunged from a side alley. His heart pounded, adrenaline surging, sweat and rain mixing on his skin while he covered Jungkook’s left side.
Jungkook was a few steps ahead, as he fired dual pistols and took down two more attackers. Jin moved in close beside Jungkook, pistol raised as if covering his flank. Taehyung’s eyes move instinctively—Jin’s arm shifting smoothly, the barrel leveling directly at the back of Jungkook’s head from less than two meters away. The angle was perfect;
Taehyung’s blood ran ice-cold even as he looked at his front and fired another shot at an incoming threat.
“Jungkook!” Taehyung shouted, voice cracking with raw panic as he tried to run forward through the gunfire to catch Jungkook. At the exact same instant, Jin pulled the trigger. The shot cracked loud and sharp. Taehyung’s eyes squeezed shut, terror slamming into his chest like a bullet of its own. "Noooo!"
Jungkook’s bright, familiar laugh echoed through the alley, loud and unbothered. “Holy shit, that was close! Nice shot, hyung!”
Taehyung’s eyes flew open, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Jungkook was still standing, unharmed, grinning as he kicked away the body of a man who had been creeping up from the side with a knife. The man now lay crumpled on the wet pavement with a clean hole between his eyes.
Jin slowly lowered his pistol, his head turning and gaze locking onto Taehyung through the pouring rain. Those sharp eyes didn’t waver, tracing the rapid rise and fall of Taehyung’s chest, the pale shock on his face, Taehyung stood frozen for a split second, pistol heavy in his grip, unable to look away from Jin’s unrelenting stare.
Is he playing a game with me?
Jungkook grabbed his hand, fingers wrapping tightly around his. “Come on, hyung! Vans are this way—let’s go!” Jungkook tugged him forward through the rain, as he pulled Taehyung along, oblivious to the tension crackling between the other two. Taehyung let himself be dragged, boots splashing through puddles, heart still racing. He didn’t look back at Jin. But he felt it—Jin’s cold, rain-soaked stare burning into his back the entire way, heavy and unrelenting, as he followed them to the van.
—————
The next major deal took them to Paris. The City of Light glittered under a crisp autumn sky as their private jet touched down, but the air between the three of them crackled with unspoken stakes.
They checked into the Shangri-La Paris, a palace of Rococo elegance with sweeping views of the Seine and the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the twilight. The lobby smelled of fresh flowers and old money. Jungkook handled the front desk with his usual cocky charm. When the keys came, only two room cards appeared. Jungkook shrugged, unapologetic. “Suite for me—best view, biggest bed. You two can share the other. It’s got two kings. Plenty of space.”
Taehyung stiffened. Sharing a room with Jin felt dangerous in ways he couldn’t name. “No. Book a third. I’m not—”
“Too late,” Jungkook cut in, already heading for the elevator, bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m not changing it. Deal with it. We’ve slept in worse.”
Taehyung shot Jin a look. The older man stood impassive beside him, his luggage in hand, tailored black coat draped over one arm. Not a single crack in his composure. No smile. In the elevator, Jungkook whistled casually. Taehyung’s anxiety simmered. He didn’t want this proximity—not with Jin’s cold intentions toward Jungkook hanging between them, not with the way Jin’s presence had started to unsettle him in quiet, electric ways.
When they reached the floor and Jungkook disappeared into his suite with a lazy wave, Taehyung turned to Jin outside their shared door.
“This isn’t happening. I’m not sharing with you.”
Jin just swiped the keycard, pushing the door open to reveal the lavish room—high ceilings, silk drapes, a private terrace overlooking the glittering city.
His voice remained ice-cold as he stepped inside “Are you afraid of me, Taehyung?” The words landed flat, almost clinical. “You’ve killed more men than most could count. Yet the thought of sharing a room makes you hesitate?”
Taehyung’s jaw tightened. He stepped inside anyway, the door clicking shut behind them. The space felt too intimate already—the king beds separated by a nightstand, the scent of Jin’s cologne already mixing with the hotel’s subtle lavender. “It’s not fear. It’s…” He stopped, frustration rising. “
“Hyung, what is happening between us?” Jin set his luggage down by the wardrobe and turned slowly to face him. He took one measured step closer, hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers. “Nothing you haven’t allowed,”
Taehyung’s heart beat raised again. He moved toward the bed and sat down, unpacking his luggage with jerky movements, sorting through his clothes as if un folding a shirt could create some kind of barrier between them. “Hyung, you are getting insane,” he muttered, voice tight with frustration and something sharper underneath.
Jin watched him for a quiet moment, then moves and slowly squatted down in front of Taehyung, bringing their faces level. The position put him close—too close—his trousers stretching over powerful thighs, eyes steady and unblinking.
“Everything is a deal, Taehyung. You know that. Killing him is no different from any trade we make. If I lose this one… what do I get in return?”
Taehyung’s hands stilled on the shirt he was folding, breath catching at the implication. “What can I even give you? You already have everything—power, money, control.”
Jin rose slowly from his crouched position, unfolding to his full height with that effortless grace. He slipped both hands into the pockets of his trousers again, the movement casual yet commanding. His gaze remained locked on Taehyung, as he said,” Jungkook has a solo side deal tomorrow and the day after. Small, personal. While he’s occupied, you will act as mine. We go on dates—visible, convincing. Walk the streets like lovers. If you make it believable enough, I will consider sparing him.”
Taehyung stared up at him, the shirt long forgotten in his lap. The words hit him like a slow-motion strike, heat flooding his face. His pulse thundered so loudly he was sure Jin could hear it.
“Are you… asking me out?” he asked, voice cracking slightly on the last word. Jin didn’t answer the question. Instead, he held Taehyung’s gaze steadily, voice calm and low. “So… is it a yes or a no?”
Taehyung gulped and nodded his head. Jin’s eyes lingering on Taehyung’s face a moment longer than necessary before he turned to unpack. “We start tomorrow.“
The night settled over Paris, the room quiet except for the distant hum of the city. Taehyung lay in his bed later, staring at the ceiling while Jin’s steady breathing came from the other side of the room. Jin had everything, yet here he was, bargaining for performances of closeness. And Taehyung, hesitant but caught, wondered how convincing he could really be when the man beside him never smiled. Two days to convince a man made of ice.
———
They began at a charming café in Saint-Germain, tucked beneath a striped awning. Jin ordered for them without asking—a rich dark chocolate croissant for Taehyung and a single espresso for himself. As they sat across the small table, Jin’s eyes traced the small dark moles gracing Taehyung’s entire face, the morning light making them stand out softly against his honey skin. He was gorgeous.
Halfway through, while Taehyung nibbled on the flaky pastry, Jin leaned in slightly, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Kiss me.”
Taehyung’s heart lurched and he choked looking up. “Huh?”
“Kiss me.” Jin’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s Paris.”
Heat flooded Taehyung’s cheeks in an instant, a flutter low in his belly making him squirm in his seat. “… no,” he whispered, shaking his head.
Jin simply hummed, a soft sound that vibrated low in his throat. He didn’t push, didn’t lean closer or coax with words. Instead, he pulled back just a fraction, lifting his espresso to his lips with an unhurried way, eyes never leaving Taehyung’s flushed face as he sipped. Taehyung’s fingers tightened around the half-eaten croissant, crumbs scattering lightly onto the table as he shifted again in his chair, the flutter in his belly blooming into a restless ache. Maybe saying yes could’ve been easier.
They wandered side by side through the hushed, golden light of the Musée d’Orsay, the air thick with the quiet reverence of masterpieces. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they moved, a soft, unintentional graze that sent tiny sparks through Taehyung’s veins. Their hands swung loosely between them, fingers sometimes grazing in the narrow spaces between bodies—light, fleeting touches that neither acknowledged but both felt acutely.
They stopped before a large Monet, the water lilies shimmering in soft blues and greens under the museum’s warm glow. Jin’s gaze remained fixed on the painting as he asked again. “Taehyung, Kiss me,,” he said softly, voice low and even, still not turning his head.
Taehyung didn’t look back either. The way his name rolled off Jin’s tongue—gentle, almost absentminded—sent a delicious shiver down Taehyung’s spine. He blushed fiercely, the heat blooming across his cheeks and down his neck. He refused yet again, the word barely a whisper.
“Hyung… no.”
“Kiss me.”
“No”
“Kiss me.”
“No.”
“Kiss me.”
Taehyung found himself blushing harder with every ask, body reacting with embarrassing sensitivity even as he refused. The way Jin walked beside him, tall and composed yet undeniably softer in his silences and his hand finding the small of his back when they moved to the next gallery, guiding him through the flow of people with a possessiveness that felt too real for pretense.
Near the elegant arches of Pont Alexandre III, when Jin began speaking—“The lights look better when—” Taehyung couldn’t hold back any longer. He rose onto his toes, heart pounding wildly, and pressed a quick, soft kiss to Jin’s cheek—The moment his lips brushed warm skin, he pulled back, lips tingling, heart hammering wildly.
Jin’s words faltered. A faint blush bloomed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he turned to look at Taehyung. His eyes widened just a fraction, lips parting in genuine surprise as he lifted a hand almost instinctively to the spot Taehyung had kissed but then he stopped. He cleared his throat and looked away. From that moment, every time Jin asked, Taehyung gave in. A shy peck at the gelato stand that left his cheeks burning. Another beneath a street violinist’s sweet melody. Each kiss sent sparks through Taehyung’s veins and made the blush prominent on Jin’s face.
They ended the evening at an intimate restaurant overlooking the river, candlelight flickering across white linens. They shared wine and exquisitely prepared dishes. Taehyung realized halfway through that he had completely forgotten the original reason for all of this—Jungkook. He was simply here, with Jin. Enjoying the way the older man listened so attentively whenever he spoke something, watched him with quiet reverence that made his chest feel strangely full and warm. Even the silence between them started to feel pleasant.
The walk back to the hotel was peaceful at first, before he suddenly froze. A man coming from other way locked eyes with Taehyung and recognition flashed across his face. The stocky man with a jagged scar across his left cheek, smirked. His two companions flanked him, hands already drifting toward hidden weapons.
They were from the H.S.S crew—a smaller but vicious that had been nipping at the edges of their territory back home. The men clearly recognized Taehyung’s face. “Well, well,” the scarred leader drawled in rough Korean. “If it isn’t Kim Taehyung, wandering Paris without his usual dog.“
Taehyung’s body tensed, instincts kicking in. The fight erupted fast. When the first attacker lunged with a switchblade, Taehyung sidestepped cleanly and drove his elbow into the man’s throat. The man choked, staggering back. Taehyung followed with a sharp knee to the ribs that sent him crashing against the railing. The second came from the side—Taehyung spun, landing a solid punch to the jaw.
Jin stood a few paces away, hands loose at his sides, expression utterly calm. He watched without intervening as another man charged Taehyung with fists raised. Taehyung blocked the swing, countered with a precise punch that split the man's lip. Another man pulling a compact silenced pistol, aiming low at Taehyung’s thigh to cripple. Taehyung spun, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting hard. The gun clattered to the ground. He slammed his forehead into the man’s nose with a sickening crunch, dropping him to one knee. For a moment, it looked like Taehyung had everything under control. Jin remained still, dark eyes tracking every movement when the scarred man recovered faster than expected. He pulled a second knife and lunged from Taehyung’s blind side, blade aimed straight for the younger man’s unprotected ribs while Taehyung was still grappling with the gunman.
Jin moved. In a blur he closed the distance. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the leader’s wrist with bone-crushing force before the knife could connect. The man’s eyes widened in shock as Jin twisted, forcing the arm back at an unnatural angle. A sharp crack echoed. The knife fell. Jin didn’t stop. He yanked the man forward and slammed his elbow into the man’s chest with brutal efficiency, sending him sprawling. “Don’t you dare!” Jin finished with a precise kick to the stomach that left the man unconscious on the ground. Taehyung stared in horror as he had never seen Jin angry this much before.
The remaining men scrambled up, cursing, and fled disappearing into the gathering dusk. Taehyung stood there, chest heaving, staring. Before he could speak Jin wiped his knuckles on a handkerchief, then reached out and grabbed his hand firmly. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling him away.
Taehyung’s heart raced for an entirely new reason as they hurried back to the hotel. The warmth of Jin’s hand in his, the memory of Jin stepping in to save him—it stirred something deep in his chest, soft and fluttering, a warmth that made his breath catch.
Fighting was nothing new to either of them, but Taehyung couldn’t shake the feeling blooming in his chest every time he thought of Jin saving him. Jungkook had saved him before too but with Jin it felt… protective. Possessive.
They showered separately. Taehyung emerged in soft black sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, hair damp and slightly curled at the ends.
When he stepped into the bedroom, Jin was already sitting on the edge of the king bed in a simple black robe, hair slightly tousled, looking devastatingly handsome. He looked up and then a quiet. “Kiss me.”
Taehyung scoffed, but the gesture felt almost fond now. The tension between then had eased now as a small smile graced his face. He walked over, leaned down, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Jin’s cheek. Then he climbed into bed and turned onto his side, pulling the covers up.
The mattress suddenly dipped behind him. And a strong arm wrapped around Taehyung’s waist, pulling their bodies flush together. The heat of Jin’s chest against his back was overwhelming.
“Hyung…” Taehyung whispered, voice trembling with nervous anticipation.
“I won’t,” Jin murmured, breath warm against the nape of his neck and then his face pressed closer, nose and lips rubbing slowly against the sensitive skin of Taehyung’s nape. The motion was gentle, almost reverent— the faint scrape of stubble, deliberate and unhurried. Taehyung’s eyes fluttered shut. It felt good. Too good, heat pooling low in his belly.
He tried to stay still, but when Jin’s mouth brushed a particularly sensitive spot, a loud, involuntary moan slipped from his throat—raw and needy in the quiet room.
Jin froze.
For a heartbeat, everything stopped. After a second, he withdrew, creating space between them, arm sliding away. His breathing remained slightly uneven. Taehyung lied there still, face burning with embarrassment. He must have sounded ugly—too desperate, too loud. That was why Jin had pulled back. He didn’t say anything, neither turned back.
Jin stayed silent too, retreating to his bed, lying on his back now, staring at the ceiling with his jaw tight, the evidence of his arousal still straining against his robe.
The next day dawned brighter, but the dynamic had shifted. They went out again—another café, a stroll through the Tuileries Garden, lunch at a bistro near the Eiffel Tower. Jin was quieter now. No requests for kisses. His touches were minimal, almost absent. He still walked close, still ordered Taehyung’s favorite crossiant , but the intense focus from yesterday had dimmed into distance.
Taehyung grew annoyed as the hours passed. By late afternoon, as they strolled along the sunlit path beside the Seine, the distant murmur of the river blending with the soft chatter of passersby, Taehyung could bear the silence no longer. He turned to Jin, lips curving into a pout that he tried for nonchalance but betrayed the flutter beneath.
“… aren’t you forgetting something?” Jin stopped and regarded Taehyung with his usual composure. Then, for the first time, a smile ghosted across his mouth—subtle, restrained, as though the ice prince within him hovered so close to melting.
It softened the edges of his intimidating face, revealing a fleeting warmth that made Taehyung’s breath catch. “I don’t think so,” He murmured, voice low and even. Heat bloomed across Taehyung’s cheeks warring with his growing frustration.
He crossed his arms, tilting his chin with a touch of sass that barely masked the tremble in his voice. “Is my kiss that bad? That’s why you’re not asking for it anymore? Jin’s smile lingered, faint and knowing. Without a word, he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. Taehyung gulped, instinctively backing up few steps, heart stuttering at the sudden proximity.
But Jin wasn’t hurrying, his moves slow yet controlled, until Taehyung’s back nearly brushed against the low stone railing overlooking the river. Only then did Jin speak. “Cheek kisses are boring,” he said simply. “If I don’t get it on the lips this time, I don’t want it.”
The directness of it—Jin asking so plainly for a kiss on the lips while standing so close—sent a fresh wave of shyness crashing over Taehyung. This was new and bolder and it left him flushed to the roots of his hair. He averted his gaze, suddenly unable to hold those eyes. “Then you’ll never get it,” he managed, though the words came out quieter than intended, laced with uncertainty.
Jin’s smile lingered for one more heartbeat, faint and knowing, before he slowly stepped back, creating a careful distance between them once more and started continuing his walking. The loss of his warmth was immediate, leaving the air cooler against Taehyung’s flushed skin. Taehyung followed a step behind, cheeks still burning.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with possibility. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, imagining what it would feel like to close the gap himself, to press his lips to Jin’s without being asked. Jin was undeniably hot—devastatingly attractive in that quiet, intimidating way, with sharp features and an effortless elegance that made heads turn wherever they went. As far as Taehyung knew, Jin had never had any partner before. No one had ever caught his eyes, no one had been allowed close enough to crack that ice-prince facade.
The same was true for Taehyung; he had never let anyone in either. The thought sent another shiver through him—equal parts nervousness and a strange, thrilling curiosity. What if he did kiss him? What if he gave in to the pull that had been building since yesterday? Would Jin’s composure finally break? Would those strong hands, currently relaxed at his sides, reach for him with a steady intensity ?
The questions swirled in Taehyung’s mind, making his pulse quicken and his steps falter slightly as they continued along the path. Jin paused at a small vendor’s cart adorned with fresh pastries and sweets, the scent of vanilla and caramel drifting in the breeze. Without a word, he selected a delicate box of macarons—pale pink and pistachio green, dusted with powdered sugar—and handed it to Taehyung with a quiet, “For you.”
Taehyung accepted the box, fingers brushing against Jin’s in the exchange, his cheeks still carrying the faint remnants of his earlier flush as he waited for Jin to do the payment. “So hotel?”
Jin turned him to say and Taehyung thought for some second before stepping closer, rising onto his toes, and smacking a sudden, quick firm kiss against Jin’s lip. He didn’t linger. The moment their mouths met, he pulled away and continued walking forward as if nothing had happened, heart racing, cheeks burning hotter than before.
Jin stood rooted to the spot for several long seconds, eyes wide with genuine shock. The world around him seemed to narrow to the lingering sensation on his lips. He looked down and then a heavy breath escaped him, followed by a slow, unrestrained smile that broke across his face like dawn cracking over the horizon.
It was bright, unguarded. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers pushing the dark strands back. The giddiness refused to fade; it bubbled up inside him, warm and electric, making his chest feel strangely light. He licked his lips slowly, savoring the faint sweetness left behind, the subtle pressure of Taehyung’s mouth still tingling there.
This… this was how it felt to kiss Taehyung. The realization sent a rush of heat through him, his usual restraint cracking further as he stood there, smiling like a man who had just discovered something precious and dangerous all at once.
He started walking again, long strides quickly catching up to Taehyung, the smile still playing at the corners of his mouth, softer now but no less genuine.
The hotel room was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Jin sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, chin propped on both hands, fingers loosely interlaced. His usual composed posture had softened into something more introspective, almost vulnerable in the dim light. The distant sound of the shower had long since faded, leaving only the faint hum of the city beyond the windows.
When Taehyung finally emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in fresh clothes—a loose black shirt and soft trousers that hung low on his hips. His hair was still damp, dark strands clinging to his forehead and curling at the nape of his neck, water droplets tracing slow paths down his temple. He smelled faintly of hotel shampoo and warm skin. Jin stared. From across the room, his gaze followed Taehyung’s every movement with quiet intensity.
He remembered the first time he had seen Taehyung—Jungkook had brought Jin in like a stray cat, wide-eyed and broke, parents long gone, no place to call home. Jungkook had said something about money being easy but the path dangerous, Jin hadn’t expected much either.. Jin hadn’t paid much attention at first when Jungkook had brought him into the room then the man sitting there on the couch had looked up.
Pretty.
That was the word that had lodged itself in Jin’s mind and refused to leave. Not delicate—equal in sharpness to Jungkook, with that same deep voice and clean jawline that could cut glass. But there had been more. Those big, expressive eyes framed by unfairly long lashes. The way he bit his lower lip when he smiled shyly, hesitant and sweet.
The quiet way he watched a butterfly drift past before crushing a moth under his heel without blinking.
Something heavier burned in Jin's chest as he watched Taehyung move through the room now.
He wondered, not for the first time, if Taehyung saw him the same way—saw past the intimidating composure, the sharp edges and quiet power, to whatever lay beneath. If those big eyes ever lingered on him with the same mix of quiet hunger and fascination.
Taehyung paused mid-step, cheeks warming under the weight of that unrelenting stare. “Stop staring!,” he muttered, voice a little breathless, and reached out to push lightly at Jin’s face as he tried to walk past. Jin’s hand moved faster. His fingers closed around Taehyung’s wrist with unyielding strength, pulling him down onto his lap in one smooth motion. Taehyung landed with a soft gasp, thighs straddling Jin’s, their bodies suddenly pressed close.
“Hyung—” Taehyung tried to rise immediately, palms pushing against Jin’s chest, embarrassment coloring his tone. He squirmed again, cheeks flushing deeper. “Hyung, let me—” Jin pulled him back down once more. Taehyung tried a third time, shifting restlessly, but Jin’s grip remained gentle yet firm, refusing to release him.
“I want a proper kiss,” Jin said finally. Taehyung stopped squirming as his eyes widened, a fresh wave of heat flooding his face as he looked at Jin. He tried once more to push himself up, heart hammering wildly. “I—” Jin’s grip tightened just enough to hold him in place. His tone remained calm, almost gentle, but there was firm beneath it. “You know I never force you,” he said quietly, gaze never leaving Taehyung’s. “If you get up… I’ll let you go.”
Taehyung stilled on his lap, breathing shallow, caught between the urge to flee and the undeniable pull that kept him rooted there, damp hair falling softly over his forehead as the silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension.
“Why are you doing this, hyung?”
Jin opened his mouth, lips parting as if the answer were right there—something raw and complicated hovering on his tongue. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, his expression settled back into flat composure, voice low and even. “Will I get a proper kiss or not?” His grip around Taehyung’s waist tightened, fingers pressing firmly into the curve of his back, pulling their bodies closer. Taehyung’s breath hitched as he stared back. “I have the strength to make myself free, you know that.”
Jin’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yet you aren’t doing such.” Taehyung stared at him, cheeks burning, the damp strands of his hair falling into his eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to gather some semblance of control. “Give me a valid reason to kiss you.” Jin’s grip tightened further, possessive and steady. “Because I am saying so?” Taehyung let out a soft, shaky breath, shaking his head. “That can’t bea valid reason.”
Jin stared at him for a long minute, dark eyes searching Taehyung’s face with unnerving patience. The silence stretched, thick and electric. Finally, he spoke again, voice low and deliberate. “I asked you to be convincing.”
Taehyung’s expression shifted. The shy flush drained from his face, replaced by something colder, sharper—realization hitting like ice water.
So this was all about the deal. How could he have forgotten? Jin must be so sexually frustrated, using him as a relief, nothing more. The thought made Taehyung feel sick to his stomach. He grabbed a fistful of Jin’s hair roughly, yanking his head back with surprising force. “How convincing do you want me to be?”
Jin’s eyes didn’t widen at the sudden aggression. Instead, they darkened, dropping low as Taehyung used his free hand to unwrap the bruising grip from his waist. Taehyung settled fully onto Jin’s lap, thighs spreading wider, pressing their bodies together with deliberate weight. Then he kissed him—hard, sudden, lips crashing together in desperate need. Jin’s eyes slid shut instantly.
His hands shot up and grabbed Taehyung’s waist with bruising force, fingers digging deep as he answered the kiss with equal hunger. Their mouths moved frantically, tongues sliding hot and urgent, breaths mingling in ragged gasps between each desperate press.
Jin tilted his head, chasing deeper, sucking on Taehyung’s tongue with wet, insistent pulls that left them both trembling. His lips soon broke away from Taehyung’s mouth, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the column of his neck. He licked and sucked at the sensitive skin with feverish intensity, teeth grazing just enough to draw sharp gasps, while one hand roamed possessively over Taehyung’s entire body—sliding roughly under the loose black shirt to map the warm planes of his back, squeezing his waist, gripping his thigh hard, thumb pressing into the crease where thigh met hip.
Every touch was rough, greedy, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of Taehyung under his palms. Taehyung gasped and squirmed on Jin’s lap, but he grabbed another fistful of Jin’s hair and yanked his head back sharply. “You asked for only lips,” he hissed, voice breathless and edged with defiance.
Before Jin could respond, Taehyung crashed their mouths together again, the kiss turning even more desperate—messy, needy, tongues tangling with wet sounds as they both fought for control and surrendered at the same time. Jin growled low in his throat. In one swift, powerful motion, he stood, lifting Taehyung effortlessly with him. He pushed him down onto the mattress, following immediately. There wasn’t a single corner of Taehyung’s mouth left untouched—Jin kissed him with raw urgency, tongue exploring every inch, licking deep and thorough, sucking on his lips until they throbbed and glistened. Taehyung squirmed beneath him, soft broken moans spilling out uncontrollably, his lips growing swollen and sensitive from the relentless, desperate pressure.
But then taehyung moved his head and pushed hard against Jin’s shoulder, breaking the kiss with a wet gasp. Chest heaving, lips red and glistening, he looked up at Jin with dazed eyes, the corner of his mouth curling into something taunting despite the tremble in his voice. “So?” he asked, the words dripping with mockery “Was it enough to satisfy your sexual desire… or should I spread my legs more?”
Jin’s expression shifted in an instant. The raw arousal that had darkened his eyes and flushed his skin cooled rapidly, hardening into something icy. The heat drained from his face,—jaw locked, mouth pressed into a thin line, the earlier hunger replaced by quiet, controlled fury.
“Are you seriously angry-?” Before Taehyung could finish , Jin grabbed both of his wrists, pinning them firmly above his head against the mattress. The grip was vice, fingers digging into delicate skin as he leaned down, breath still ragged but eyes now glacial. He stared at Taehyung for one long, heavy second, the silence thick with anger as if he felt betrayed.
Then, with deliberate force, he shoved Taehyung’s body back down onto the bed, the motion rough enough to make the mattress dip beneath them. He rose from the bed in one sharp motion, running a hand roughly through his disheveled hair as frustration and rage rolled off him in waves.
With a low growl, he grabbed the bedside lamp and hurled it across the room. Taehyung flinched rising up but didn’t say anything when It shattered against the wall with a violent crash.
Jin didn’t look back. He strode toward the door, before slamming it shut behind him with enough force, the sound echoing harshly in the empty hallway as he left. Taehyung stared at the closed door for a long moment, the echo of the slam still ringing in his ears.
His chest rose and fell unevenly, swollen lips still tingling from the force of their kiss, wrists aching faintly where Jin had pinned them. He had never seen Jin act like that before. Why did it feel like he had hurt him… right where Jin had hurt him?