Work Text:
You’re restless sitting around here; maybe you should take a look at other areas of the penthouse. It’s not that Jumin’s penthouse isn’t nice (it’s luxurious) or that you don’t have everything you need (you could order it in if you didn’t), but the thought that you can’t leave sits at the back of your mind like an unscratched itch. You sincerely hope Jumin is actually getting work done while he’s away, if not for your sake so much as Jaehee’s.
You finally make up your mind and call security up to take you to the rooftop. Maybe being exposed to the outside air will make the itch go away. You’re in the elevator when your phone buzzes in your pocket and you awkwardly slide it out, a little cramped in the small space with such a burly security guard.
Oh… Zen’s calling you. You click to answer just as the elevator doors open and try to motion to the guard that you’ll be all right from here. He nods and remains in the elevator while you get out.
“…Babe?” comes the voice on the other end when you finally hold the phone to your ear. “Babe, are you there?”
“Hey Zen,” you reply, squinting at the sudden bright sun. “Sorry it took me a second to answer.”
“You’re at home now, right? Please tell me you’re at home.”
You sigh. “Well …”
There’s an indistinct sound on the other end, as though Zen slammed his fist on something. “Gahhh…” he says, and lets out a long breath. “Babe. You have to get out of there!”
You walk along a pathway further into the gardens. Jumin was right; this place is rather pretty. You sit on a bench under the shade of a Chinese chestnut tree. “Zen, I get where you’re coming from, but –” You hear Zen suck in a breath to interrupt you and hurry to finish your sentence before he can. “—but I think we just need to give him a little more time and he’ll be back to normal. Really, I promise.”
Zen says your name in a serious voice. It’s almost strange to hear instead of his usual nicknames. “Do you want me to come over?” he asks. “Distract some security guards so you can escape before he comes back? I know how to get there.”
You tip your head back against the bench and stare up at the sky through the tree branches above you. “No, of course not,” you tell Zen. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.” The sky is cloudless—a flat, greyish blue. It seems to reflect how empty you feel this penthouse is. “I guess I just wish there was more stuff to do since I’m here anyway.”
“I can at least keep you company, then,” Zen says. “Practice was cancelled today so I’m free for a few hours.”
Does he really intend to talk to you for that long? Hmm. It might not be a bad idea. Gives you something to do. “Yeah, sure, for a little bit longer.”
Jumin presses the phone to his ear again and hears it dial your number. There’s a pause, and then—
“We’re sorry, the person you are trying to reach is not available at this time. Please try again later when the line is free.”
Does her phone not have call waiting service? Did she dial someone by accident and then leave her phone somewhere? Is she ignoring his calls? Who is she talking to if the line is busy?
Jumin hears a crunching sound and looks down to realize he’s crumpled a ball of paper in his fist. He throws it at the wall with a grunt and slams his phone onto his desk. Maybe the hacker came back and hacked her phone again. Maybe he’s hacking into Jumin’s security systems right now, trying to take her away, trying to cut off his contact with her…
There’s a knock at the door and Jumin lets the hand that had been running through his hair drop to his side. “Come in,” he calls.
Jaehee enters, clutching a clipboard with a sizeable stack of papers. “Mr. Han,” she says, crossing the room to stand in front of his desk. She notices the crumpled piece of paper on the floor and frowns. “The investor meeting will be starting shortly—”
“Assistant Kang,” Jumin interrupts suddenly, an idea coming to mind.
“Mr. Han?”
“Contact my chief of security. Tell him I need today’s CCTV feed from morning until now.”
Jaehee shifts her weight and her eyes harden. “Mr. Han, you really must go to this meeting now…”
“It’s very important,” he adds, picking up his phone again to try her number once more.
“If this is about—”
“I can’t go anywhere unless I know she’s safe!” The words come out much more forcefully than intended. Jumin turns his back on Jaehee’s flustered face and presses his forehead against the window behind his desk.
“…Mr. Han.” Jaehee sounds a little unsure of herself. “I will contact your chief of security right away. I’m sure the files will take some time to send, so why don’t you go to the meeting now and you’ll know how she is as soon as it is over.”
Jumin’s shoulders slump as his most recent call to you fails to connect. “I’ll go,” he says after a long pause. “And send someone over to make sure she’s all right.”
“Of course. Now, the meeting…”
Your phone feels hot when you set it down beside you on the kitchen counter in Jumin’s penthouse. You’ve been using it to talk to Zen for quite some time. He finally said that he needed to have a shower and eat something before he called you again, if you were still bored, before he hung up. Then he called you back immediately to add, “I’ll have my phone by me even when I’m in the shower, so if he comes home and tries anything you let me know, alright babe?” You laughed a little at how sincere he sounded and reassured him for the umpteenth time that you were okay.
You’ve barely set your phone down when it buzzes again with another call. Geez, did Zen forget to tell you something else before he hung up? You swipe without really looking at the name and say playfully, “What happened to having a shower?”
The voice on the other end that calls your name questioningly isn’t Zen’s. Whoops. “Sorry, Jumin. I didn’t really check the caller ID. Are you coming back soon?”
There’s a beat before he answers your question. “I’m on my way. Your day went well?”
“Mmhmm~” you reply cheerfully.
“Good. I will see you in a few minutes, then.” He hangs up. Huh. It isn’t like him to end the call so quickly. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to talk more when he’ll be seeing you in person so soon.
You decide that you should make yourself look nice for when Jumin returns. A few dresses arrived for you while you were chatting with Zen earlier, along with several other gifts. It was a little overwhelming, but you know Jumin means well. A shorter beige dress with a wide neck and long lace sleeves catches your eye. This one seems like it would be nice to wear to a fancy dinner.
After showering (and wondering why on earth Jumin has cat shampoo in his shower) you realize that the only other clothes you have to put on are what Jumin bought you – which, besides the dresses, appears to consist of Victoire’s Secret lingerie, some designer skirts and blouses, and pajamas that according to the tag are from Louis Buitton in Rome. Holy shit.
With no other choices presented to you, you end up putting on the foreign clothing and drying your hair before stepping out into the living room once more. The dress fits surprisingly well and is much more comfortable than you would have expected, despite the fact that there’s a large panel missing from the back of the dress that you hadn’t noticed when you picked it out. It’s a little troubling to think of how many dollars’ worth of clothing you’re wearing, but you do feel like a princess.
Jumin’s not back yet, so you retrieve your phone from the kitchen to check if Zen has called you again. Hmm… no calls from Zen, but two missed calls from Jumin and a text from him saying he’d just be a little longer due to traffic. Scrolling down in the phone log past Zen’s calls, you realize that you’ve also got at least a dozen missed calls from Jumin since this morning. They all seem to be while you were talking to Zen. Oops. You hope he wasn’t too worried about you while he was at work. It’s hardly as though anything could happen to you here, anyway, with so much security.
Your phone’s almost dead so you go over to Jumin’s bed to see if he’s got a charger in his nightstand or something. Your search is successful and you plug it in to the wall just about the same time you hear the door to the penthouse open.
Jumin’s voice calls your name and you can hear him removing his shoes. “Just over here,” you say as you finish plugging the cord into your phone. You check to make sure that it is indeed charging before setting it down on the nightstand and walking towards the entrance to greet Jumin.
You’re hardly a few metres away from the bed when Jumin appears in the doorway, a strange expression on his face. His eyebrows are pushed together and there are several creases in his forehead. “You’re…you’re safe. You’re still here,” he says, walking to your side. His eyes sweep up and down your body, taking in your new outfit. “You’re…wearing the dress I bought.”
You fiddle with the hem, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You think it’s all right?”
He seems particularly fascinated with your collarbone. He stares at you for what feels like quite a long time before saying, “You look breathtaking.” In a much quieter voice that you aren’t sure if you heard properly, he adds, “though I can’t have anyone but me see you in it…”
“Were you bored?” His voice is at normal volume. “Did you have everything you needed?”
You nod. “No, I was fine. Spent some time chatting on the phone. Checked out some of the shops on the lower floors. The rooftop garden is lovely, by the way.”
“Who were you talking to? The line was busy for quite some time.”
Knowing Jumin and Zen really don’t get along that well, you say evasively, “Oh, just the RFA members.” You don’t think he’ll mind as much if he thinks you could have been talking to Seven or Yoosung.
…And then, with spectacular timing, your phone begins to ring. You glance to your right and stifle a giggle at Zen’s new profile picture, which is a mirror selfie (presumably taken shortly after his shower) of him winking.
Jumin follows your gaze to the phone. Zen’s calling you. Your cheeks flush pink and your lips quirk up slightly as you look at his profile photo.
He stiffens, his fingers curling into the palms of his hands. No. It can’t be Zen. Jumin had sifted through the CCTV feeds for almost an hour after the investors’ meeting, saw you answer a call on your way to the rooftop and then barely put your phone down for hours. You’d laughed and smiled and blushed at whatever the other person had said.
Not Zen. Anyone but Zen.
You’ve both been standing quite still, barely a metre apart, for some time. The phone stops ringing and the screen darkens.
“Were you… on the phone with Zen today?” Jumin asks, breaking the silence.
You blush again. “…Yes.”
Jumin lets out a long breath, avoiding your gaze. His fingers feel like they’re cramping up and he stretches them out but can’t keep them relaxed. “You called him but not me,” he says in a flat, controlled voice.
“Well, technically he called me first,” you say.
First. The word feels like ice.
“I know you two don’t get along,” you continue. “He was just worried, so he called and we ended up chatting for a bit.”
Jumin reaches his hand out and his palm touches your cheek, fingers brushing your ear for a fraction of a second before he immediately withdraws as if your skin is poisonous. He turns around and paces to the other side of the room to stare out the window. He can feel your eyes on him, watching. Your reflection in the glass shows you still frozen in place next to the bed. Jumin isn’t sure what to make of this feeling that’s tearing him up inside. Someone else’s voice touched your ears, made you smile. Someone else made you blush and laugh.
“Do you like Zen?” he asks in the same, flat voice, bracing his hands against the window.
“Jumin…” There’s genuine worry in your voice. “I do like talking to Zen, but it’s… different from talking to you. Zen is a friend, nothing else.”
Jumin feels like he’s suffocating. He raises a hand to his neck and tears off his tie before throwing it to the floor. He still doesn’t feel he has the strength to look at your face when suddenly gentle fingers touch his arm. He didn’t realize how close you were. “Jumin…” you say softly. Your touch feels hot and cold at the same time. “Do you… not believe me?”
The fragile control Jumin had over himself snaps and in one movement he’s grabbed your arm and pulled you to his chest. He can feel how warm you are through the sheer fabric of the dress. You smell like his shampoo. Still clutching your wrist in one hand, he uses the other to tilt your chin up and press his lips to yours. The kiss demands you yield, his mouth moving against yours until you part your lips to let him in. You let out a little gasp as he turns to crowd you into the corner, pressing your back up against his floor-to-ceiling fish tank.
The gasp isn’t nearly enough. He wants—no, needs to hear you say you belong to him. That Zen means absolutely nothing. He wants you to forget that there’s anyone who exists in this world except for him. He slips his arm around your back to press you closer and is surprised to touch bare skin. The dress exposes much of your lower back and he runs a finger down the curve of your spine. You arch your hips towards him and a little moan escapes your lips.
“Be mine,” Jumin says in a low voice, bending to suck at the pale skin just under your jawbone. “You can’t belong to anyone else.”
“I… ah…” your voice falters as he kisses down to your collarbone. Good. Almost there.
“Tell me you wouldn’t let Zen do this,” Jumin says as he kisses the skin at the top of your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your flesh. He tastes a tiny bit of blood on your skin and laps it up with his tongue. You barely seem to be supporting your own weight, and your body weighs heavily against the arms holding you to him. Your fingers scratch against the sleeves of his shirt, clutching and releasing the fabric as though you’re searching for an anchor to tether you to the earth.
“Oh God,” you say breathlessly. It’s not what he needs to hear, though.
“You wouldn’t let Zen do this,” he repeats, sliding his hand down your back to outline the curve of your butt. He continues to run his hand down your leg, past the bottom of your dress until he reaches the underside of your knee and pulls your leg towards him. You obediently wrap it around his body and he picks you up off the ground, forcing you to straddle his waist. Your dress rides up around your hips and the hands supporting you are separated from your bare skin by a mere strip of lacy fabric. “…Would you?”
“No, no…” you whisper in his ear, your arms wrapped around his shoulders.
He sucks at the skin where your shoulder meets your neck, kisses it gently, and teasingly grabs it between his teeth. You moan and your legs tighten around his waist. Your skin is hot and your breathing quite shallow. You trace frenetic patterns between his shoulder blades with your fingertips, sometimes digging your nails in when he squeezes you tight. Jumin presses your back against the wall and grinds his body against you. “Tell me Zen can’t make you feel the way I can,” he growls.
“Just you, Jumin,” you pant. He presses you closer and you moan again. “I’m yours,” you say, “I’m all yours.” You put your hands on either side of his head and pull him away from your neck to cover his lips with yours. The kiss tastes salty and metallic like the blood he licked off your shoulder. Satisfied at last by your response, Jumin carries you over to the bed and gently lowers you onto the sheets.