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Summary
In a packed club, vibrant with movement and distractions, Jimin only saw him. It wasn’t the first time he'd been looked at, but it was the first time a pair of eyes made him want to surrender completely, their power intoxicating, impossible to escape. A stranger draped in leather and danger, his piercing gaze pinned Jimin in place, speaking promises and challenges without a single word.
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“Hands behind your back. Good boy. Now, open, just a little.”
As Jimin followed each directive, those two words, good boy, had lodged themselves in his brain. The hope that he’d hear it again sparking a thrill that made his thighs tremble as if his body was already preparing to be claimed, the praise flooding his cheeks with warmth.
“Let me see that sweet, pink, tongue.”
Quick to comply, Jimin’s tongue passed languidly from between his parted lips, resting heavily on his bottom lip. It must’ve looked obscene. From the way Jeongguk’s breathing deepened alone, Jimin knew he was affecting him and that was almost reward enough.
Almost.