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Summary
“You’re not mine for pleasure,” he said, his voice soft but lined with iron. “You’re mine for protection. You are not to lay a finger on me. Not unless I command it. Not unless my life depends on it.”
Jungkook’s eyes dropped to Jimin’s lips. Deliberate. Unapologetic.
“And if I want to?” he asked, stepping in that final inch, his voice nearly touching skin. “If I want to taste what the king doesn’t dare claim?”
Jimin’s pulse jumped.
The air between them was humid with heat and restraint. And that scent — gods, it was everywhere. Like oil on water, impossible to wash away.
“You don’t get to want,” Jimin said, voice soft as velvet and just as sharp.
Jungkook’s smile curled, slow and lazy, his breath stirring the space between their mouths. “Pity.”
Or,
Jungkook was meant to be a punishment.
Jimin’s not sure when it started feeling like a reward.