I stare at the small blue bottle, head cocked at it as I watch Taehyung present it with a flourish, loose frilled sleeves grazing and tickling against the skin of my wrist as I take it, looking at it curiously.

"And this is meant to be—" I trail off uncertainty, drawing it up closer to my eyes to examine it, half-forgetting the sweeping low neckline I'd dolled myself up with, the slight tickle of my hair as it curls over my shoulder, falling forward as I peer at the glass bottle. As if staring hard enough will unveil the mystery it comes shrouded in.

"For your shoulders. They were hurting." He murmurs, voice a smooth curl of sound, grazing across skin as he looks at me.

I tilt my head. Lips curling into a coy grin.

"Want me in good condition before bedding me?" I tease playfully.

Although based on his transactions he very well could afford to. He paid substantial amounts for these visits, seemingly invested in pouring money down the brothel's coffers to meet me, to come sprawl beside me on sheets and talk.

And like always... he shakes his head, loose curls grazing and kissing the curve of his cheek, falling over an eye.

"I've no interest in bedding you. I don't pay for the services of your body." He dismisses.

My eyes linger, smile falling as I look at him.

Drink in the sight of him.

Of the contrastingly tight breeches, hugging the muscular outline of his thighs and calves and the loose drape of a thick cream shirt that billows around his waist. There's no hiding the jewels and chains that gleam at his throat, dip and graze across the low of his chest; gleaming and glowing. He's a thief's paradise. A vision of wealth and luxury as he tugs off his gloves, dark leather drawn off long, slender fingers, wrists adorned with thin chains, a dozen rings curled past his knuckles, some seeming to snake around skin and moulding to him. 

But what catches my eye, what draws my gaze and keeps them captured is the bejewelled loop around his waist, leather strung through with other trinkets, with a dagger sheathed at his hip. What draws attention is the way it curls around a small waist, physique hinted at.  Chains and leather looped around him in a casual flaunt of power and money.

Usually the two were a dangerous combo.

Fatally lethal.

Deadly and troublesome to get entangled with.

Power brought about abuse of it, brought about misinformed attitudes and the sense of entitlement; that  people were disposable. Could be treated as such. That people were another object, another glittering possession to curl greedy claws around and into.

Money brought about the same. Brought about the delusion that it could buy anything, could buy fidelity and this consuming sense of lust and want. That paying more would somehow mean I'd fall. Fall irrevocably deep and want to be bound to men with no knowledge how to wield the very tool that brought me to their bedrooms' thresholds. That paying somehow meant my body was theirs to do so with as they willed. That money meant I'd be willing to lay my life down, willing to serve them.

Money and power was dangerous. Life had made sure to cement that into me.

But Taehyung... despite being powerful and rich somehow wasn't. He was a bandit, he relished in looting, in pillaging and taking and yet... yet he didn't feel unsafe. I didn't feel as he closed the door behind him, as always, that I wasn't safe in the room. Somehow the door closing didn't bring the sweeping sensation of dread and resignation.

Somewhere along the line, it brought privacy, it brought time and respite. It brought company and not servicing. 

Somewhere along the line Taehyung had decided that his power and wealth was to buy himself a nap of all things. At some point he'd decided his loot and pillaging was worth pouring into visits and it made my heart twist with a flutter at the unfamiliarity of it.

At the newness of it all. At the rarity that was Kim Taehyung, bandit and napping companion. Where it'd been hard; impossible to let my eyes flutter shut and rest with him in the room, still keyed up and too strung up, too used to not letting my guard down... somewhere that had changed.

And the first time it had happened, I'd fumbled awake, body jolting into full awareness as I scrabbles upwards, hands loosening off the sheets when I saw Tae sitting up and leaning against the headboard, legs crossed. Watched as his face turned to look at me, the corner of his lips tugging up. Eyes softening and body turning so he could peer down at me, head leaning against his hand, the jewels at his ears gleaming.

"Sleep well? Looks like you needed the rest more." He muses.

My mind was still trying to process what had happened. Trying to process the realisation that I'd fallen asleep beside him and hadn't stirred; the sudden jolt disorienting and jarring, making my eyes flash open. Breath shaky as I straightened, pushing back hair and looking at him, hands consciously checking my neckline and loose stays, knowing I'd habitually began to leave them like that. Breathable.

That's what every visit from Tae was. Breathable.

And apparently disarming. Because sleep had been an easy lure, had coaxed and beckoned and I'd easily fallen into its trance. 

There wasn't the expectation to doll myself up, or to dress myself down. There wasn't the expectation to make myself look good and desirable, save for appearance sakes when we ambled to the door, there was just time. Time to unwind and time to relax because of Taehyung. And as I sit up, rubbing vestiges of sleep from my eyes, it's almost startlingly quick my hands yank away; expecting lines of kohl to stain my fingers, powders ruined.

But it's bare.

Body relaxing.

Bare-faced. I didn't need to apply a mask everytime he passed through my chamber doors.

"Mhm... sorry I don't ever..." I begin apologetically, blinking at him.

"Jin mentioned you've had a long week." He brushes off, jaw seeming to tick at the thought. And in that disoriented haze I don't think much of it, a fleeting thought that the tick just makes his jaw look more pronounced, sharp and angular. Undeniably masculine and powerful.

I shrug, sinking back against the pillows, relaxing once more, hands curling around satin as I tilt my head to him.

"Isn't it always a long week? It drags for an eternity and then the hell begins once more." 

He'd had no answer to that.

I stare at the blue vial, body unconsciously relaxing and a smile stretching across my lips.

He'd remembered the stiffness I'd been nursing in the carriage. And I remembered dark pools of brown unwavering and staring.

Remember his words echo and curl through my mind.

A ghost with its heady low thrum of words, a rich mellow baritone that felt like a caress in itself.

Fingers trailing over my palm, mapping out overlapping, crisscrossing lines.

Are you all in?

"If life deals you a bad hand... you make the most of it, you bluff and make the others fold. You win with the cards you have. You can play with the cards you have... question is whether you're willing to gamble it all for the big win." 

Taehyung lived life with his life on the line and his hand of cards proudly shown, good or bad. He lived with the certainty and assurance that even if he had the worst hand, he'd still win and triumph. He'd win on his rules and his tricks.

Bluff and win.

Don't let the others call on your weakness, pick at it.

It made me wonder whether Taehyung had always been this way, suave and confident; or whether it was learned. Whether it was honed over time.

Taehyung falls silent, no answer to my question and sighs.

Deft, long fingers undoing the lacing of his brocade jacket, undoing the tight fit to his torso and letting it fall open as he shrugs out of it, moving to undo the row of pearled buttons at his cuffs, rolling them up.

It's a mundane action. I've seen men draw off their clothes or undo them countless times.

And yet there's something about the way Taehyung does it. Something entrancing about the way glittering fingers slowly draw off fabric, peel it from him. He adores clothes, that's apparent with how vast and colourful and varied his outfits always are, and yet he tosses the jacket done carelessly onto the bed. Something about seeing knuckles grazing the thick, muscled line of his forearm as he pushes the fabric up.

Clambers onto the bed, the mattress sinking and shifting behind me as he moves, my spine tightening at him moving out of my line of sight.

He seems to sense it, knuckles brushing down the curve of my back, gently loosening the tension and dispelling it.

"Calm down... I don't bite." He teasingly drawls, leaning over my shoulder to pluck the blue vial out of my loose hold, his chest grazing across my back, muscled arm brushing and banding across my own before it retreats.

But before my body can relax, his lips graze across the shell of my ear, mischief and tease dripping from it, a low drawl that sends shivers dancing across skin and the heat of his breath makes me swallow.

"Not unless someone asks me to." Playfully insinuating as he unstoppers the vial, jolting at the cold of the ointment; smelling faintly of mint and citrus, the scent soothing and calming.

The hand that curls around my waist draws me back, draws me against the open, welcoming and awaiting open stance of his own body, legs spread across the sheets, brushing past my hips and his other hand rubs circles onto my bare shoulder. Slow, deliberate circles onto my skin as he massages the ointment in, knuckles pressing down to ease away stiffness. The press of his rings embed the feel of them to skin as he carefully applies the ointment over the curve of my shoulder, hand trailing up to the crook of my neck.

The slow coaxing pressure of his fingers as they mould around the curve of my shoulder, massaging a line up, knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of where my throat and shoulder meets, the touch spreading heat to seep through skin despite the coolness of the ointment, his touch spreading sparks, flaring embers under his touch.

And curling through the scent of citrusy mint is his own heady scent; something rich and musky emanating off him. it wasn't a cologne, it wasn't perfume or a spritz, it seemed to seep off him in subtle waves, mouth-watering scent that made me want to curl close to it and chase it, wanted to bury my nose against it and inhale until my lungs shuddered and contracted around it.

"I... I can't imagine someone's ever asked then." I manage to get out, remembering his words, eyes fluttering with relief at how his touch soothes away the lingering stiffness, head tilting back.

Rewarded with a deep rumble of laughter that I feel reverberating and pressed across my own back, sinking bone-deep as he continues his ministrations.

"How far your imagination is from reality then." He croons, carefully guiding my head against his shoulder as he switches over to the other shoulder, repeating the same cycle until my body has sunk down with content, head tilting to peer at him from the side, fighting the urge to trail my fingers across his jaw, to cup it close, fight the urge to shift my head close until it's buried against the crook of his own neck, wanting to taste his pulse on my tongue, wanting to chase the heady tug of his scent.

I snort.

"Well I know for a fact that your imagination, your very fantasies aren't far from my reality at all." I tease, lips curving wide at the small stutter of breath, the sight of teeth nibbling at his bottom lip before he turns his head to look at me. Dark brown eyes that tug and yank me closer, brewing with blown-out want and fire, simmering and crackling and promising to consume anyone who dares to approach  in its inferno.

Silently the flames and heat of his gaze beckons closer, reeling in without saying a word.

A wicked smirk curling across his lips, pearly teeth peeking out.

"And what's to say I can't make your fantasies a reality?" he drawls, hand curling tighter over my shoulder, fingers squeezing hard enough that I feel their phantom pressure when it loosens.

I meet his gaze unflinchingly.

It'd been his eyes that lingered in mind after the first time I'd seen him, eyes that rendered someone powerless... eyes that had the power to bring people to their knees.

It's those same eyes I search as I look at him now.

If he'd wanted... he'd had countless times to collect his dues... to truly demand the services he paid for. And yet he hadn't.

And at first I couldn't fathom why.

But the more he stayed, the more he visited... the more we talked, it became clear.

Taehyung was a bandit, had looser morals than most of the town when it came to how he did his business, but he had more manners than any gentleman I'd ever serviced or been with.

He wasn't crossing a line that day by day, visit by visit blurred and became increasingly hard to remain on opposing sides on.

Taehyung was testing the waters, gauging its depth.

And he wasn't treading further than he was content with.

Playfully flirty, eyes dark and consuming and a body that only spoke volumes for how well he could use it, how well he looked after it. And yet... he didn't impose it, didn't push when he could.

It was refreshingly different.

And it made him that much more attractive.

"So what's stopping you? Why haven't you?" I ask, voice lilting and soft.

His hand comes to cup my cheek, fingers grazing across the high of my cheekbone.

Leaning close, the intoxicating want flaring in his eyes.

"The greatest pleasure is when it's freely given, freely taken. When I have you it'll be because you wanted it, wanted my touch." He says assuredly, voice heavy with sensual promise.

I lean closer, close enough that our breath, our air is shared when I next speak.

"What makes you think you won't be on your knees begging for a touch... for a taste?" I ask, fingers reaching to trace the side of his face, brushing back a curl.

The air turns intoxicatingly thick, rich and heady with simmering attraction, with a tug towards each other. It would be so blissfully easy to shift closer the slightest and graze the inviting curve of his lips with mine, to mould them together and find whether he tasted as sweet and rich as his words and voice was.

It'd be so, so enticingly easy.

"I'll gladly get down on my knees and worship your body with my hands and tongue. But I feel like you don't want me on my knees not yet." He murmurs, voice dropping lower.

"And when you do... when you have me on my knees I'll be glad to fulfil your fantasy." So assured, so confident and aware that I can't help but ask.

What he believes my biggest fantasy is. What he believes he can give.

"What's that? What fantasy will you make true?"

His grin turns wicked, teeth flashing and the inviting deep pink of his lips parting, head drifting closer.

"When whoever beds you finds release and pleasure in ruining you. In taking you apart countless times, in seeing you shatter and crumble under the desire. To see you drown in the sensations. Someone who'll hold you as you writhe and twist. Someone who'll want to hear their name torn past those lips."

It may well not have been a fantasy, but it's one he plants in my mind, blooming and sprouting, vibrant and rich and dripping with seductive enthralment. It may well not have been a fantasy but it's one borne of attraction and desire and flickering want, it's one I want. It's not a fantasy he weaves for me and ensnares me in, reels me and captures me within velvety dripping promise. It's a want... a craving he fans to life, roaring flames that lick and scorch skin, curl around my body and encase it in its fierce grip, making heated want bloom low in my gut.

There's raw unbridled desire in his eyes and in the rough edge of his voice.

Flickering as he leans away, lungs shuddering to inhale air that isn't spiced with the musky tones of his own scent, hand falling away.

"But then again... don't think we're there yet. When you are... let me know." Finger brushing across my bottom lip, a soft, slow caress before he tears his touch away.

His own breathing a touch ragged, falling back with a groan and fluttering eyes as he tosses the stoppered vial onto the bed, arm splaying across the sheets and his hand resting on his stomach; dangerously low on his breeches. Fingers grazing tight lacings as if searching for relief, for friction.

My lips quirk at the accusation in his eyes when he shoots me a glare, half-heated because his own curl up at the sight of my smile.

"Something amusing?" he drawls. The effect ruined by the bob of his throat as he watches me lean over, fingers trailing over the frills of his shirt, teasingly tugging at buttons that I want to undo, to let my hands roam over the warm solid strength of his chest.

Curiously wondering if he'd be sensitive, if he'd buck into the touch if my nails were to graze.

"Depends on who you ask. Got a problem you need taking care of?" fingers brushing across fabric, watching his eyes darken and follow the trail of my touch, stomach tensing under my touch. But before I can let them drift further, his hand moves from his abdomen to grip my wrist.

A solid firm tug that has my body tilting forward, eyes widening with surprise at the burning, unrestrained need I see in his eyes. Lips pressed thin.

"That's my problem. Until you decide to make it yours." 

Thumb brushing over the inside of my wrist, a lingering touch that seems to ignite sparks, veins burning with liquid desire, gut clenching tight.

He barely does anything and my body responds. Barely touches and my body curves and craves more, tilts to him in silent plea.

It's dangerous and thrilling to realise giving in to the desires would satisfy every need and want. And it would be reciprocated, it wasn't just me tugged closer, it was just as much him.

And when he lets go, it's to sit up, unbothered about adjusting his breeches as he stands, the fabric straining and the hardened swell an indication of just how much he was affected to.

Brushing past with a low guttural murmur to be excused and eyes that seared skin long after he vanished through the private ensuite.

Leaving me alone to my thoughts and the itching frustration of craving and having that feeling unsatisfied.

Sitting up and fixing the skirts of my dress, eyes drifting to the exposed neckline and off shoulder fit, wondering whether this meant I should up my game by dressing up further or dressing down.

There was something about Taehyung that sparked a challenge. Issued it boldly through simmering gazes and fleeting touches that left a hungering ache for more.

And it was a challenge that I wanted to rise to just as much, loosening the bodice around my cleavage so it could become more pronounced, drawing my hair away from my face and shoulders, pinning it back.

I didn't wear cosmetics when Taehyung came to visit, always told Madame Lim that he preferred natural looks, but it doesn't stop me from sweeping my eyes over my reflection critically, wanting to physically startle and still in his steps.

Wanting him to leave with difficulty, with the reminder of exactly what he was walking away from.

Taehyung and I veered off normal and conventional. That was clear as crystal.

His visits were a surprise that had eventually morphed into acceptance. That this is what he was, this is how he chose to spend his money; every visit leaving me feeling lighter with the giddy hope and realisation that my freedom from this place loomed steadily closer. But where friendship had sprouted from tentative acquaintances... from a truce forged from the velvet sack that lay hidden under a loose floorboard, attraction; carnal and base urged me closer, mingled with this trust in him that made it that much more of a yearning.

Finding trust and desire in the same person was rare.

An indulgence to share and confide feelings and to share and trust your body to the same person. A liberation and vulnerability that I couldn't afford to give away so easily.

And yet...

And yet to Taehyung I wanted to.

To him I wanted to share both parts, found it easier and easier to share what brew in my mind and easier to fall in the lure of his body.

It was dangerous and new and terrifying.

But I didn't reign in those feelings, I let them grow, let them wrap vines around me; encasing me in the new emotions. And gladly sank into its embrace.

My eyes tear away from the mirror when the door to the private ensuite opens once more, mouth going dry at the sight.

Albeit there's nothing monumentally different.

But the flush high on his cheeks, the glittering secrets dancing in his eyes, lips slick and bitten red, loose curls and the ever so slight sheen of swear at his temple and the rapid ragged breathing has my hand curling around the dresser.

Eyes drifting over the flushed sight of pleasure and release on his face, at the dishevelled state of his shirt tucked back into breeches that aren't quite tied as secure, looser and messier and no hard straining bulge remains.

Tongue darting out to whet my lips, swallowing to get rid of the violent giving thrum of my pulse I can taste at the back of my throat at the sight of hazy pleasure he makes, pupils dilated with it and lips curving loosely in mock tease but not divulging.

See the slight dampness to hands he'd just dried and feel my legs instinctively tighten, closing around nothing,

See the bliss and pleasure-haze on his face, in the looseness to his body, grinning as he tugs his clothes back on, draws back the waistcoat, head tilting in invitation.

"Something the matter? Aren't you going to ruin me?"

My breath catches in my throat, at the invitation oozing with charisma and warmth, laughing as he reaches a hand back, sliding off a velvet ribbon to let dark, unruly curls fall about his face, grazing and kissing the edge of his jaw and the side of his throat.

"Ruin my appearance so dear old Lim won't have a clue." He prompts again.

And when I step close, his hands curve around my waist, tug me close a few steps.

Toying but never crossing.

Eyes gleaming as he watches me sink my hands into his hair, aching to tug, to wind through the silky dark tresses and hear those sounds he'd muffled and bitten back.

Feeling a bolt of longing and jealousy course through me at not having helped him.

At his choice to do it himself.

Breath ragged as it grazes my ear when he leans forward.

"Pretty hands you have."

And leaves with a saunter and confidence burning in each step, lips puckered in a pout as he turns back.

Ready to play the part of the intoxicated man.

"I do hate it when you banish me vixen... guess I'll be back sooner." 

A low sultry croon.

And this time I'm the one who chases those words.

I'm the one who wishes silently that it to be true.

TAE POV:

Resisting is hard. Giving in would be so blissfully easy. 

It's torn between the two that I find myself time and time again drawn back to her threshold, find myself handing over bags of coins without even the barest inkling of thought or hesitation, watching Lim's face gleam with greed as she accepts, having long since fallen silent for directing me to (Y/N)'s chambers.

It's want that always bubbles upwards and spills over, coaxing and guiding my body towards the large establishment, the rich décor, the ever constant hum of voices and the smell of incense and perfume a cloying mix that threatens to stick to my tongue.

It's relief to walk through (Y/N)'s chambers door and walk through to lighter floral notes, the heady sugary warmth I've grown to associate her with of something rich and heavy and promisingly intoxicating to the taste. It's a relief to hear the door click shut and the masks, poorly raised, to fall away, smiling at the sight of her.

It's hard and therefore immediately dismissed to try and prevent my eyes from drifting. Indulging in drawing in the sight of her dress today, eyes sweeping over the low, loose sleeves off her shoulders; revealing the soft unmarked curve of them, the enticing dip of her neckline revealing the smallest hint of her cleavage that the soft dove grey fabric clings and moulds to. Outlines her shapely curves to her waist; fingers itching to clamp around the petite dip of it, to tug her closer.

She eyes the blue vial I hold out for her, curiosity and confusion crossing her features as she takes it, grip tentative as she tilts her head, loose strands grazing soft skin. Watch her continue to observe it, eyes tearing away when I undo my waistcoat, drawing off the green brocade and tossing it onto the bed.

It was one of my favourites. The green offset by the gold detailing, vibrant and rich and eye-catching, instantly drawing a passer-by's focus to the fit, to the way it moulded to me. And yet it was already discarded so easily... so readily so I could sprawl more comfortably, without creasing the fabric, without ruining it.

And yet had it fallen onto the floor, under the heels of my boots I wouldn't have cared for it, wouldn't have paused in my way to get to the bed, to get to her.

Feel her eyes linger as I unbutton the cuffs, fighting the urge to meet her gaze, pushing the fabric up before plucking the vial from her, clambering onto the bed behind her. Knuckles rubbing down her spine at the smallest bit of tension; triggered by me moving out of her line of sight.

Lean over to draw the vial out of her hand and feel her back against my chest, feel her arm graze my own, eyes drifting over the slender arch of her throat and the brush of hair against skin as she shifts slightly.

"Calm down... I don't bite." I tease, leaning closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Feel her body fight back a shiver as she stiffens, trying to still the movement. 

"Not unless someone asks me to." 

I stretch out behind her, legs widened to accommodate her and draw her back as I unstopper it. Relaxing at the soothing scent, hoping it did very well what the apothecary physician had said it would.

Handing it over with the scent of freshly crushed mint and orange blossom still clinging to him, dimpled smile as he passed over the vial, the sleeves of his shirt stained despite being pushed up, despite the apron he had thrown on over it to make the ointment.

"It soothes pains that could be a day or so old?" I reaffirm, eyeing the blue glass, watching him wipe his hands down before opening the register to accept the coins I hand over.

"Like magic. It's quickly absorbed into skin so apply it on the direct source of discomfort." He instructs, ringing it up, reaching for a fountain pen.

"A receipt for that?" 

I shake my head.

"No need. Thank you." head dipping slightly as I pocket it, pushing back the small pile of silver coins he sets down as change.

"You've done me the service Physician Kim." I insist.

"And you are to do someone's service I guess with the ointment. Someone special finally catch your eye Lord Kim?" he playfully prods.

I grin, drawing back my leather gloves, shoulders shrugging loose.

"That may be so. I'll see you around Namjoon." I say as I turn.

"Whoever it is... treat them well." He calls.

I feel my lips stretch wider, fingers curling around the vial in my pocket.

I have every intention of doing so.

Draw her back against me, applying some of the ointment on her right shoulder, fingers gently rubbing in the soothing balm, chasing the heat of her skin before my knuckles knead at the muscle, coax out the tension and stiffness, feel her relax and sink back against me.

Feel her body go from taut to loose, fingers inching and brushing against the crook of her neck and shoulder, feel the small tremble she can't quite contain and relish and capture the sensation, of her back sinking further and her hand unconsciously curling on her lap. As if stopping herself from holding onto something. Anything.

The small, muffled groan sends a fierce jolt of arousal through me, causes the ever-present gnawing pit of want flare to life, eyes taking in the small flutter of her lashes.

Hear the slight breathiness to her voice, wavering, as she answers me, head tilting back, leaning against me.

Feel her shudder as I talk to her, feel her gaze focus on me as I speak, mouth aching to curl towards hers, to silence her every teasing prod and push. Her taunt and playful question of whether I could—whether I could make it all so much worth it. Whether I'd be able to satisfy and satiate her desires, whether I was worthy of making her own fantasies and wants come true.

The fantasy that spills past my lips may well not be hers.

But it's mine.

It's a fantasy that gains strength with every new sound her lips make, with the peal of stifled laughter until it's no longer muffled, exuberant and ringing. It's with the small lilting tone whenever she teases, with the small hum whenever she's thinking or the restless tap of her fingers against any surface.

It's a fantasy that I crave and hunger for. To hear the soft lilt turn into pleasured cries, to hear the warm giggles peter into gasps and moans, to hear her plea for the pleasure to stop even as her body archs and shifts, twists both into the touch and away from it.

I wanted to be the reason for her cries of pleasure, wanted to be the ones to wring them past full lips, wanted to bite down and see smooth unmarked skin marked with claims of equally fervent, feverish desire. Wanted to leave the imprint of my touch on her because she craved and begged me to.

Wanted to ruin her, take her apart piece by piece until she was flooded with the sensation, consumed by it... then put her together again. Piece by piece.

Meet her eyes and find the same blown-out desire make her pupils dilate, see myself reflected in her irises, see her and feel her fingers ghost along skin before brushing curls back, the touch soft and lingering.

Cup her cheek, thumb brushing under her cheekbone and wondering for one wicked, damned moment what she'd look like with tears of pleasure spilling over her waterline. What she'd look like with cosmetics on just to see them smeared and ruined. What she'd look like delirious with pleasure wrung out of her, drawn out like a reel until the tether snapped and she had no more to give.

Tear myself away because day by day it's harder to not crowd against her and take. Take what I see silently goading and calling and luring from her own eyes and body. Finger brushing against her soft lips, so giving, so warm; tearing myself away before I let myself press down on the soft flesh; just to see whether her lips would part.

Fall back across the bed, arm splayed, glaring at her.

She did this.

She wound me up so easily.

With her breathless gasps, with her wavery voice and slowly turning loose posture. With her shaky sigh of thanks and the unadulterated moan of relief that tumbled past slightly parted lips. With her body pressing back against mine, so easy to wish that I could draw my hands up to push those endless skirt layers up.

Fingers grazing against my breeches, against the aching stiffness growing harder within them until I have to draw myself away before I buck and rut helplessly against her for release, for a pleasure I wasn't going to pry from her until she handed it to me.

All pretty on a platter.

And the moment I close the door behind me, my body sags against it, hastily drawing and yanking the breeches' lacings open and off, pushing down the fabric before curling a hand around myself. Hissing with sensitivity, with the rough friction of skin and against skin until the touches turn into seamless glides, eased by the pleasure that spills out, eyes and memory full of the sight of her, her sweet lilting voice turning playful, coaxing me to touch harder, grip harder, hips bucking against the fist of my hand, pushing myself to a frantic peak, wishing it were her own hand wrapped around me instead.

Muffle down a slew of grunts and curses and her name as the pleasure explodes, teeth sinking bruising and harshly into my bottom lip, wetness coating my hand, body thrumming with desire as that taut feeling snaps; spreads into a boneless haze, breaths sharp and ragged.

Heart racing and thumping, pushing wildly against the cage of bones and flesh, desperately thudding, her name a shaky groan from my lips, waiting for myself to calm down, for the shakiness to move away. The intensity of release making my lungs burn with just how much I crave and want, staggering to the basin and washing the proof of spilled desire free.

When I finally make it out, there's a looseness to my limbs, a rush to my cheeks that stretch with my grin, coming face to face with the sight of her almost immediately.

It's a searing secret that burns and stokes the fire low in my gut once more, even as I draw back the waistcoat, clothes dishevelled and hastily fixed.

Looking at her before my eyes gleam. See her eyes unwaveringly fixed on me.

"Something the matter? Aren't you going to ruin me?"

As if she hasn't already.

As if I haven't been coming apart countless times with the thought of it, with the promise of reciprocating it.

Lips curving wider at the small stiffness, fingers curling around varnished wood as she stares.

"Ruin my appearance so dear old Lim won't have a clue." I elaborate, twisting the words and watching something flash in her eyes, move forward to her.

And curl my hands around the slender curve of her waist, fingers banding across, feel the stiff tautness of the corset underneath.

Not only did I want her out of it, imagining how much more unrestrained and free she'd be, but how the corset hid away her true shape, hid away the soft curves I wanted to mould to me.

Draw the ribbon away and see her fingers sink into my hair, nails lightly scratching against my scalp in a slow caress before she draws my hair back, her eyes drifting over my collar and throat.

Tying it back and letting her hands trail down my shoulders, resting for a moment.

A silent promise and weighted want in them.

Cross the line (Y/N) and I'll erase it entirely, let it blur and I'll let the barriers dissolve. Let me in and I won't ever leave.

Instead my eyes drift to her hands, soft and smooth.

Deceptively delicate looking but hold so much power, so much ruination in them, bite back a groan at the sight, knowing the same sight of them had propelled me to that precipice of pleasure; had caused it to slam hard and deep, wrenching it out of me at the thought of her coaxing and tugging me to that peak instead.

"Pretty hands you have."

I wish they'd been the ones to give me release.

-------

"Lord Kim... can't keep yourself away from my little bird?" Lim's voice croons, low and pitched at the same time.

It was a god-awful assault to the ears, watching supposedly smooth words drip past red-stained, dry lips, whetted by the flick of her tongue as I dip my head, dropping a handful of coins in her open awaiting hand.

Vile.

Just as much as I'd learnt about (Y/N), I'd quite possibly learnt just as much about Lim.

Claws deep in the coffers of the establishment, the rates weren't anything short of high demands; but it came with the value, the price tag she put on every worker. She took a large chunk of commission, the wages that ended up with the workers were poured into paying back debts. So what Lim ran was a web, an intricately crafted web that kept them all ensnared... made it hard for them to leave once they made the decision; fuelled by desperation and need, to work here.

Lim was a spider. One that secreted venom into the very ties and links that kept everyone under her control, under her grip and for all that she sweetly dripped words to customers and potential clients, it was poisoned, sugariness. Dripping, glittering and dark.

Lim had ties and connections.

And until they were cut, until they were rooted out, she wasn't someone to be crossed.

Revulsion and hate blooms as I watch her grin widen, teeth stained red and fingers rubbing over the coins with unrestrained hunger, dropping them into a pouch at her waist, clinking and joining the others as she steps aside with a flourish.

A grand sweep of her skirts as I brush past and onto the open space, moving past several milling customers and clients; drifting and orbiting the men and women already seated and walking about. Bees drawn to the honeypots, lured to the sticky sweet scent of desire. Flocking eagerly.

My eyes drift uninterestedly over the customers and clients alike; over the mixture of loose draped fabrics and cinched, clinging silhouettes. Trail over loose, unbuttoned shirts and tight breeches and arms curling around sweet-talking, loosened pocket customers to tug them closer.

Searching and hunting down the sight of       (Y/N)'s familiar figure. Eyes drifting as I weave in and out the crowd, tugging off coyly curved hands off my arms, distaste stretching across my face, brows rising at the approaching people, watching them fall back or change track.

When an umpteenth hand curls around me and latches onto my hand, I feel an angry snarl curl across my face, whirling around to face the person when the strength of their own touch yanks me closer, drawing me face to face with soft brown eyes scanning me critically and full lips curving into a critical curl.

Batting his eyes as he draws me away from the others, posture and stride confident and assured. The crowd parting for him as he drags me away, leaning close to run a hand over the plane of my chest.

But as I balk, his eyes burn with warning, lips parting to hiss at me.

"Play along boy toy. Even the flies on the wall are watched." 

I lean forward, hand curling around his wrist, brushing against glittering delicate bracelets and chains.

"And who would be interested on watching us? Unfortunately... pretty though you are, you're not a trinket I want to collect." I say, head tilted forward with the illusion of being drawn closer, bodies crowded close.

He hums, something fierce in his eyes.

"I'll ask once. Is that what (Y/N) is to you? A pretty trinket you want to collect?"

I raise my brows, fingers unconsciously tightening. Realising his need, his insistence on dragging me away, a secluded alcove that sandwiches us nearer.

A snort slipping past my lips.

It makes anger and protectiveness sear across his delicately sharp features.

"Listen Jimin~ you reckon I'd stay if she was a mere trinket to me? She's not a jewel, a trinket, a pretty object... she's the very fibre of a treasure chest for me. She contains all the worth, all the allure and charm within her." I say firmly.

See his eyes narrow in scrutiny and silent examination before shifting back, fingers tightening in the silk shirt so my head is angled to his, drawn down forcefully to him.

"So it's not boy toy... it's lover boy." He amends, voice a soft whisper. Intimate and secretive.

"Man." I correct.

And that seems to make him crack, a bubble of pealing laughter slipping past glossy lips as he tilts his head back, eyes creased with amusement as his hold loosens.

He looks disarming like this.

It's a slither, a crack in a mask. It's a side he doesn't show but slips out in front of me today.

It's perhaps a guard that won't ever lower in front of me, but I can't help wishing it does.

To know (Y/N)'s other-half. The man who so fiercely guards her, protects her. 

"Oh honey... (Y/N) ruins men. Let's see if you remain one once she's had a full taste." He croons, brushing out the crease in the silk.

"She's not working the floor tonight. She's playing pretty server. Kitchen." He murmurs before slipping past me, sliding out the alcove and leaving.

And as he leaves, my own body twists away to hurry to the kitchen, to find her.

Wondering as I weave through the crowd and down hallways, following the trail of men and women sauntering out with trays to track down the kitchen. Waiting for it to empty before slipping in.

Eyes lighting up at the sight of her, drifting over the loose tumble of wavy hair down her back, the curve of her hips not fully hidden in a much looser, simpler gown.

Seeing her is a tsunami and tirade of emotions, feelings and want. Thought and rationality battling and that flickering, soothed, pit of need flaring to burn; a roaring fire that numbed every other thought.

Silently push the door shut, noiseless and soundless as it closes and as I move forward.

But my hands don't even reach out for her fully, intending to tug her against my chest when her voice soft and teasing shatters the air.

"Missed me Taehyung? I wasn't expecting you today."

I let the element of surprise slip away, hands curving around to splay across her stomach as I draw her back, hear the almost mute exhale, feel the small shudder under the hard whalebone corset.

"What can I say vixen, you're a drug." I murmur, hear her soft laugh as she turns her head, tilts it back to peer up at me, finger ghosting along my face in the barest of touches.

It takes a moment to realise she's mapping out where the mask sits on my face usually, the tip of her finger sweeping across my cheek, across my nose, brushing against my cheekbone before winding a curl around her finger. Looping and tugging lightly.

"Oh? Is that so my dear bandit~ more intoxicating than the rush of looting?" she asks.

Eyes flashing and challenging.

I shake my head, leaning closer.

"I have every intention of looting... just all my stakes, all my cards are on you."

Surprised by the twist of her body, head cocked as she turns in my arms, slides her fingers up my shirt, smooth and fluidly moving across my chest before tugging at my collar, yanking until our faces are a hairsbreadth away, body tilting, gravitating to the sugary heady scent of her.

Watch her pupils dilate.

"Will you give me the honour of looting one thing from you?"

"Anything." I breathe.

Her fingers wind around my nape, lips almost close enough to graze against my own, hearing and feeling her murmur as a phantom caress.

"Will you let me steal a release? Will you let me take your pleasure?" voice dripping with honeyed plea, enthralling in the way her eyes peer unblinkingly.

I groan, a soft curse spilling from my lips before I curl my hand around her nape, wind my fingers into the loose tresses, lips ghosting along hers.

"It's not a loot if I'm willing to hand it over."

Let her steer me around until I'm leaning against the counters, watching as she slowly lets her fingers dance and drift across my arms, a squeezing touch before she lets her hands rest on my waist.

"You always wear body chains or the sheerest tops or the tightest... but you know how to flaunt what you have." She murmurs, a soft observation.

The light ticklish sensation of her fingers trailing down my stomach to rest on the centre of my breeches.

Body tensing at the touch, arousal simmering in low, flickering embers as she toys with the lacings.

"You never did them up properly that day. Did you want me to see?" she continues, fingers slipping through the loops, hooking in, knuckles grazing the low of my abdomen. Felt even through the silk.

I find my lips tugging upwards.

She'd noticed then.

Toying and teasing, blurring the lines together until they existed no more.

"Maybe... what of it? You didn't have to ruin my clothes at least." I say lightly with a shrug, watch her lips twist into a small pout.

It's oddly endearing and jolts me from that growing heat, wanting to cup her cheeks and slot our lips together, kiss away the pout until she melts against me.

"Shame... that you make me ruin with pretence. Why don't you let me show you the difference... let me show you how real pleasure makes a man undone." She coos, a breathy sigh as she looks at me, kohl swept lashes dark and grazing against the delicate skin under her eyes as she lowers her gaze to the sight of her hands.

"Please do." Voice plaintive.

Something carnal blooming at the sight of her fingers tugging, a small yank before she undoes the lacing, draws away the ties to draw open the front of the breeches, unravelling to peer at bare skin underneath.

Feel her hand graze against cloth and cup my manhood, a firm pressure that has me bucking into the touch with a breathless laugh.

"When I saw you leave to take care of your problem... I wish you'd asked instead. I would've been glad to." She murmurs, hands tugging the fabric down my hips, thumbs brushing over my hipbones in wide circles, lowering herself down to guide the slide of cloth against skin.

My throat bobs at the sight of her kneeling on the floor, loose skirts sprawled and fanned out, crushed and uncaring of the state of them as she curls her hands around the back of my legs, peering up at me with a wide smile.

"I wouldn't mind taking care of your not so little problem." Fingers trailing to inch up my thighs, pressing down and a shaky exhale as she looks at me, eyes brimming with want and need. With heady attraction.

Feel her fingers curl around, my legs widening their stance for her, jolt before relaxing at the brush of her lips feathery-light across my thigh, nosing at skin, soft pecks turning into open-mouthed kisses, tongue brushing against the inside of my thigh.

"...that damned mouth." I shudder out as she moves slowly towards the centre of my legs, the tickle of her hair making every inch of my skin feel sensitive, flaring with hyper-conscious awareness of how close she is, the heat of her breath curling closer.

"So aching and hard." She murmurs to herself, hand moving to cup me, stomach swooping at the sight when both hands take me in them, a loose fist as she slowly tugs and coaxes me to full hardness, throbbing at the sight of her.

"A man shouldn't be pretty... but you are Taehyung." Lips inching higher as one of her hands slip away, curl around my thigh, the reverberation of her praise felt against my body.

"You think?" I ask.

She hums, mouth closing around the tip, eyes beguilingly demure before they flash playfully, tongue brushing over me, curling around me, creasing when I swear. Unconsciously jerking forward, pushed back by her hand on my thigh.

A silent chiding warning.

Teasing and taunting.

She pulls the shots.

Instead of answering with words, she replies by way of action. Shows what else her mouth can do as she sinks her lips down around me, taking me deeper, eyes fluttering with pleasure; her hands anchoring herself to me. The hot, wet heat of her mouth, the soft pressure of her lips and the teasing curve of her tongue as she tastes me on her mouth has me groaning, hands curling around the counters. Unable to tear my eyes away from the sight, watching her face move closer and closer, bobbing back and forth. The wet glide of my arousal spilling onto her tongue, the throaty vibration of her hum making my hips buck up, her fingers going loose. 

Slowly she moves, guiding herself deeper, fingers digging in tighter as if to steady herself, drawing herself off to draw in a shuddery deep inhale of air, lips slick and stained.

Nose brushing against my hip as she brushes a kiss across it, slow touches that trail over my thighs, teeth pinching at the inside of my thigh, nipping and sucking. Tongue flicking against the sting to soothe it over, mouth closing around skin to decorate the sensitive skin with her touch, with a reminder of this.

"Don't make me do all the work... why don't you show me exactly how you like it?" she mutters, voice breathy, teasing at my tip.

My hands unfurl from the counter to sink into her hair, watch her sink down slowly, eyes peering trustingly at me when my grip tightens.

Nodding.

And something purely satisfied and satiated blooms across her face when I guide her face down, draw her closer with my fingers entangled in her hair.

Hear the groan of pleasure as she takes me deeper, drawing back, lips parting around me in small breaths, before inching down further. Taking more and more of me in.

And when I feel her nose brush against the inside of my thigh, I groan, fingers loosening slightly.

Eyes clenching with the sensation.

"That damned mouth will be my downfall." I say, finishing the incomplete thought, tightening my hold as I draw her back, tugging her hair and seeing her hands move from resting on her lap, on rumpled skirts to curl around the side of my legs, gripping tightly.

Eyes silently tugging and pushing.

More.

I question by way of tightening my hold, bucking into her mouth and watching her face melt with pleasure and agreement, mouth suckling and tongue chasing the taste of me.

Groan when she lets me control the pace, hips bucking and slamming forward into her mouth, tugging her down to each thrust; hear the choked moan, feel the shuddery breaths when she draws off, a small breath before going lax, mouth falling open and tongue sticking out in provocative invitation.

"Ruin my mouth for anyone Taehyung." She goads, voice slightly hoarse.

Eyes clenching shut when I slam my hips forward, until she's sheathed her mouth entirely around me, feeling the contraction of her swallow around me, groan at the slick and ease of the glide as I buck into her mouth, rocking my hips back and forth, eyes ensnared to the sight of how it ruins her.

Watch as her eyes water, tears catching in her waterline, a hand unfurling to thumb at her eye, catching the first spilling tear before it streaks down her cheeks.

Beautiful.

Feel the slight wetness stain her cheeks, breathing raspy and hands tightening; fingers digging in with a fierce bruising intensity as her hips shift, restlessly moving as she continues to kneel.

And slowly that bubbling feeling of pleasure mounts, mounts and heightens as she continues to let me rock into her awaiting mouth, closing around me and eyes shiny with tears peering at me, her chest heaving with the lack of air and breath, breasts straining against the confines of her corset and dress.

Slowly my jerks become erratic, pleasure seeping into every nerve cell of my body, back going taut with the intensity of it, desire spreading out across every limb, legs trembling.

And just as I feel that tautness about to snap she draws off with a shuddery gasp, swollen lips parted as she draws in deep lungfuls of air.

Voice wrecked and hoarse when she speaks.

"I said I'd do the taking. So you release on my wish Taehyung." Peering up with dishevelled hair, tear-stained cheeks, watery eyes and spittle-slick lips, hands loosening.

"My shot. My call." She reiterates, swollen lips curving with tease.

Hand curling around me as she tugs, tightens her hold around me.

"Let me be the one who makes you spill, makes you seep pleasure out." She implores, as if the power isn't hers.

As if she hasn't pulled away at the peak of my pleasure, body still thrumming with that denied need, feeling as if I've halfway fallen to sink and drown in that precipice, free-falling but not yet able to be consumed by it.

"You minx." I groan.

She guides my hands back to her hair, loose and unbound.

"You'll need something to hold." She croons, voice shot.

And her eyes burn with satisfaction when suddenly she takes me in to the hilt, hot pressure around me, sucking hard, tongue teasing and drawing that pleasure to flare to the surface, hands pinning my hips from jerking forward when I cry out. Head falling forward with the sheer intensity of the explosive pleasure, body seared hot-white with ecstasy. Branded with the sensation of everything that's her.

Eyes fluttering shut, forcefully opening them to see the sight of hooded eyes staring, consuming me as she watches me fall apart, swallowing down every drop of pleasure.

Mouth releasing me when my hips jerk with sensitivity, heat threatening to bloom into another tidal wave. Falling away, hands resting on the floor as she peers up at me, chest heaving, tongue brushing over her lips and hand moving to gently brush against her throat.

As if soothing or committing the feeling to memory or a mixture of both. I don't know. But the sight of dilated eyes watching me with lips that part in triumph has my legs buckling and sliding to the ground. Kneeling with her.

"You... you're something (Y/N)." I gasp out.

She looks thrilled.

"Took your breath away didn't I?" voice raspy but tone delighted.

I curse, a breathless huff.

"Took more than that."

She breathes heavily, trying to draw it down to level, eyes fluttering as she leans back.

Piercing and captivating when they eventually settle on me, eyes a slow trail before she speaks.

"I have no intention of returning it though." 

I lean forward, hovering over her, heart still racing, breath still a shaky mess as my hand curls to splay across the low of her back. Tugging her forward and against me, lips tilting crookedly.

"The least you can do is share." 

And groan with satisfaction, with hunger and want and finally... that sense of completion as I mould my lips to hers in a bruising grip.

Claiming and taking.

Sealing my mouth over the swollen slickness of her own.

Finally.

(FINALLY INDEED... WHEW FIRST SCENE OF SPICE! WHAT DID YOU THINK? I WON'T LIE I'VE NEVER WRITTEN THIS SORTA SCENE SO I'M TOTALLY OUT MY DEPTH AND UNSURE WHETHER IT WAS OKAY...? HOPEFULLY (Y/N)'S OWN POWER AND PLEASURE AND TEASE CAME THROUGH, Midiiplier - POOF I GO! ADIEU! APART FROM THAT... THE SIMMERING ATTRACTION IS FINALLY COME TO FRUITION I GUESS! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THE CHAPTER AS A WHOLE- ENJOY AND TAKE CARE!)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3