This time the air crackles, sizzles with uncharged energy and a restless ache that blooms in the space between us, the brand of his lips imprinted against my own, tongue curling around my own, his hand tangling into hair to tug me closer, cradling the back of my head as he leans against me, body pinned to the door of my chambers.

Feel his groan, wet and shuddered as his lips scorch mine, chase to learn the shape and feel of them, tongue searching and exploring and intertwining with mine, hand curled around the low of my back as he tilts his face forward. Hungering and chasing after more.

My mind swims with the taste of him, the loose lacings of his breeches still messed and the first press of his lips burned across memory even if he's chased after my mouth countless times since he'd tugged me closer on the kitchen floor, clothes wrinkled and crumpled under each other's feverish touch.

The first brush of his lips against my own hadn't been tentative or shy, hadn't been careful or eased across my own. It had been bruising and crushing against my own, uncaring of the slickness that still stained them, lips forcefully branding the shape of them against my own, a heated press of them turning slower but burning with fiercer intensity. But thorough; slowed in his intent to trace the shape of my lips with the careful, slow sweep of his tongue, with the press of his mouth against mine, slotting so seamlessly over my own. Longer, lingering kisses that had stoked a fire low in my gut, body already thrumming with desire, with seeing his body flushed and undone because the same mouth he groaned against, tongue sweeping over the seam for entrance. There wasn't a tentative plea in them, it was insistent and curling closer, trying to curve in, the slight tug to my hair as his grip tightened making my lips part in a noiseless gasp, tongue sweeping in deep and hungrily, relishing in the victory and the rough exhale against my lips was a victory I harboured for my own. Tongue curling and brushing against his own, chasing the heated curl of his tongue, greedily exploring the crevices of his mouth just as wantonly.  And my hand had fisted into the slippery silk of his shirt; aching to tug him closer, to feel the hard press of his body against my own, to feel the smooth fabric against skin, to feel the definition of his body under my hand, drifting up and across his chest, nails grazing and grinning against his mouth when he hissed. Letting my hand trail up further to curl around a broad shoulder, tilting my face to his and lungs aching and shuddering with the taste of him, with the scent of him branding across every breath. Inhaling the scent and heady musk of him, veins buzzing with it.

Feel his body press forward to cage mine to the wood of the door, feel the brush of my skirts against his legs as he grounds his hips forward; a harsh jerk that lets me feel the growing hardness of him against me, that lets me feel just how much I affect him, how much my touch riles him. Think distantly in the back of my mind, head tilting back as my teeth scrape his bottom lip, tugging at the soft giving flesh, that it's not just me losing myself in the heady sensation, in him. He's equally lost and falling.

Tongue sweeping over the sting, hear the groan muffled against me, his hand drifting to squeeze my waist; a fierce pressure that I ache to feel directly against skin, to feel the large expanse of his palm and fingers fold over the dip of my body and tug. Draw me closer.

It's addicting.

The taste of him, the feel of him leaning into me, the brush of his curls when his mouth slides away from mine, marking a trail from the corner of my lips to jaw, feverish press of his lips; scorched and swollen, a heated line of open-mouthed kisses down my jaw to the curve of my neck, my head tilting to encourage him, hand aching to sink into his hair and keep him anchored like this. Pressing silent promises over and over to my body.

It's a sensation, a feeling that I can lose myself in... lose myself to. It's very much a feeling and touch and want that I can get intoxicated on. 

Intoxicated by the curl of the rich heady scent of him, intoxicated by the feel of his hand tugging, possessive and fiercely wanting; curls grazing against my skin, a touch teasing and toying.

It's almost embarrassing, that if I wasn't getting achingly wanton from his touch, from the press of his kisses as he reaches the shoulder of my dress, to feel my body react so strongly, so easily and readily for him.

Seeing him come apart, face flushed with pleasure, eyes lidded and curls grazing skin that seemed to glow under the kitchen lanterns, had stirred a fire to life under skin. Roaring with heat as it seeped and spread across my skin.

Seeing and watching his body buck to my touch, his groan low and sinful and reverberating as if he was pressed directly to bare skin... seeing his hand; bare from his fine leather gloves, bejewelled fingers sinking into my hair and tugging me forward even as he jerked forward, bucked into my waiting mouth. Seeing him chase and take pleasure and be helpless to only release, to only find ecstasy when I was ready for him to- it sent a buzz across every inch of skin, it made my body burn with the want to see how he'd have looked sprawled on my sheets and riding out his high, to see the same sight with his body bare; hands itching to feel the same corded warmth of his body that I'd felt with my hands wrapped around toned thighs.

Feel my eyes flutter as his breath curls against skin, mouth moving against skin, the brush of his words sinking into my body.

"The things you do to me—the things you make me want to do to you." he murmurs against my collar, nose brushing skin in an almost tender gesture.

It's dizzying and foreign how the sensation makes the fire burn hotter and my heart twist with a painful ache of raw unrestrained want. Scary almost how much my body craves but bit by bit my heart does too.

"What? What do you want to do? What could you do?" I breathe, voice trembling slightly.

Watch as dark eyes focus on me, pin me and there's something hungering about his haze as he straightens up, lips curling into a coy smirk, lips reddened and bruised with pressure and the scrape of teeth against the soft flesh.

"You gave me the pleasure of release... made the pleasure mount until it was all I could think and feel. I'd love to return the pleasure by giving you release over and over until your numb to every other sensation but the ache of your body after I've wrung out every drop." He croons, hand cupping my cheek, the press of the slightly cooler metal of his rings grazing against skin.

I shudder slightly at the sensation, watch his eyes darken and flash.

"You like my rings? My pretty trinkets?" He asks conversationally.

On him yes. On him... I don't think any other man could adorn so much finery and jewels so well as he could. I didn't think any man could other than Jimin.

On Jimin they were exquisite. Heightened the allure, his body gleaming and jewels glittering.

On Tae they were radiant because of him. Because of this confidence and authority he wore every piece with, he owned the pillaged jewels. And he wore them far better than their once owners could.

I nod.

"They suit you."

He grins, lips curling wider, a flash of pearly teeth that feels entirely too predatory, my body feeling pinned and hunted under the press of his body, his head tilting forward to brush his lips against the shell of my ear, a low dulcet croon for me alone.

To haunt and plague dreams and conscious awareness.

Dripping with weighted sensual allure.

"Imagine how they'd feel inside you. Imagine how pretty they'd look stained with your pleasure."

Hand tightening around his shoulder, that thrumming pleasure bursting and burning, body aching and jolting physically at the thought.

"Next time... I'll show you." He promises, lips grazing under the jewel that hangs at my ear, a soft brush that leaves sparks in its wake.

And watch as he leans away, hand brushing back a strand of my hair.

Head dipping lightly, eyes raking with lascivious intent.

"Till next time vixen."

It takes long moments to get my tongue to move, feeling weighted in my mouth, mind buzzing with the images and words he leaves behind.

"I'll be seeing you Lord Kim."

No longer needing to play the dishevelled courtesan.

I'd become one.

So easily undone with the barest of touches and with the sight of his own body taut with pleasure. Crave and miss the weight of his body as he moves away, sauntering down the hallway, the clicking of his heels as I watch him vanish.

And when I finally sink into my bed, clutching the sheets and trying to calm a racing heart; it takes far too long to, his face flushed with pleasure burned across the inside of my eyes.

And sleep only comes hours later when tossing and turning brings no respite. When the sheets ruck around me and the loose drape of my nightgown gets entangled around me, I still lie with a mind that thrums, refuses to sleep.

Sleep only comes when hours after thinking, replaying the memory of Tae's groans, his trembling legs and body jolting forward... of his lips seated across mine, messy and hungry and tasting himself on me... when my hand moves to bring me a relief to the aching heat that still simmered in my veins, body writhing on the sheets, taut and strung up with pleasure and shattering apart with a keening cry swallowed in the darkness of the room, body slumping against rucked, ruined sheets and a chest that heaves for breath. His taste a ghost sensation, his weight a phantom pressure I ache for. Sleep only comes with that urge satiated, temporarily, body sinking back to sprawl dazed and hazy onto the bed.

Men didn't do that to me. 

Minnie and all our entangled reprieves in each other had never left me like this.

Neither had any encounter with Namjoon.

But Tae. Tae had.

And we hadn't done anything... I hadn't felt anything but the bruising pressure of his mouth hungering for my own and his hand skimming across my back and waist.

And yet I was craving... aching for a touch, for more.

My head falls back against the pillows.

Kim Taehyung what sort of power do you possess? How do you wield it so effortlessly over me?

And when I finally wake— long after the day has risen and noon quite some time passed, it's because of the knock at my door rather than my body stirring from the dark heavy snare of sleep.

Draw the laces tighter around myself as I stumble out of bed, feet padding across the cold tiling, stumbling over the hem as I reach for the handle.

Surprised and forced into semi-awareness at the two men. Entirely unfamiliar and head jerking in response to the dipped bows.

See the large, wrapped parcel they carry between them.

"Miss (Y/N)?" One confirms.

And through the fog of sleep I nod.

"A parcel that Madame Lim said we bring and set up for you."

I frown, her name a cold downpour on the weighted dredges of fatigue; jolt me more awake.

"I haven't ordered—" I begin.

"From a client."

And watch, stepping back silently as they brush in, hands carefully unwrapping a beautifully ornate mirror. Gilded frame and large, panning to stretch across the expanse of the wall above the dresser.

Watch them gather endless layers of paper and string, securing it to the wall with deft hands before stepping away.

In the haze of my body trying to fall back in the lure of sleep I notice that their eyes don't stray nor linger; a refreshing enough change that a genuine smile curls at my lips for them before I let the door shut.

Sinking back into the bed, and eyeing the mirror even as I settle back.

What client would send a mirror? 

Silly... 

And with the thought I let sleep tug at me once more. 

—————

The next time I see Taehyung it isn't at the brothel. It's in the cluster and the din of the tavern, the yells and jeers steadily growing louder and the brush of bodies as they weaved in and about to tables more frequent.

It's as I'm curling my hand around the stem of the glass, drawing it to my lips to down the final sip of the fruity liquor that a body brushes past me and lingers. Doesn't move away but curls to lean over, a heavy weight that makes my body balk for all but one instance, the hand curling around to tug the glass free from my grip ever familiar.

My eyes drift over the thin bands of silver curling around warm, honeyed skin, at the stones set into the bands that curl and snake around his finger, head tilting back to peer at him.

Eyes drinking in the motion of his throat bobbing as he knocks back the final mouthful of liquor, lips curling into a smile that's part soft, part tease as he meets my eyes.

"Taehyung." His name rolls off my lips unconsciously and his other hand comes to rest at the low of my back, a grounding weighted pressure as he brackets me, sets down the glass and nudges it forward towards Jungkook; whose eyes flash with recognition, lips curving as he takes it for a refill.

"Vixen." He greets with a dip of his head, eyes drifting over me appreciatively, a spark blooming in brown eyes that darken as he lets his gaze wonder, pressing closer as a man stumbles past, body caging mine in a way that feels simultaneously possessive and protective, tilting against me.

"How's my pretty lady?" he croons, hand curling to squeeze my waist before he sits down on the tall stool beside me, thumb curving across my waist before trailing off.

I tilt my head, cheeks already warm from the buzz of the few drinks I'd had, from the heat of the tavern bustling and crowded with people.

It seemed like the town was in an uproar.

And with it, Hoseok and Jungkook's business was thriving. Thriving as tankards after tankards were pushed out, pints of beer sloshing over rims as they cheered and crowded their heads together, stronger liquors poured and the atmosphere crackles with it.

I watch as Hobi moves forward, setting down two glasses; the red gleaming in the crystal cut glasses, hands wiping on a towel as he grins, hair tousled and skin gleaming with the flushed heat, head cocking as he takes in the two of us.

"Picking up a pretty boy (Y/N)?" he teases.

I grin.

Head tilting as I let my eyes drift over the loose thin top, billowing around his frame, hiding the definition of his torso and the contrastingly fitted breeches that cling to the toned lines and strength of his thighs, ankles crossed together as he raises his glass to me, winking before taking a sip.

Humming as he waits for an answer, face propped up against his hand, curls rowdy and unrestrained by their custom ribbon; rough loose curls brushing around his face, kissing and grazing his jaw.

"Maybe... depends on if his body has the same worth his pretty trinkets do." 

Though I didn't doubt it.

And it was as if I was hurrying to forget the sight of him wrecked with pleasure any time soon, wasn't going to forget the feel of his body pinning mine to the door and the way his hands felt skimming and grazing across my sides.

His brows rise, curls brushing against his skin and falling forward as he lets his body sway and tilt towards mine.

"Oh sweetheart... I'd be happy to show you my worth." He croons, voice low and honeyed.

Out of the corner of my eyes I see Hobi retreat, lean away with a grin and a mutter to be back when the drinks are empty, moving to serve other customers.

I draw my glass forward.

"Is that so? Can't do that in a busy tavern now can you?" taking the first small sip, eyes trained on him.

Watching his own eyes narrow and trained on the movement, tracking the brush of my tongue against my lips to catch the stray drop of the berry-fused alcohol.

But his answering smirk, stretching slowly across his lips sparks a thrill, plants the seeds of a dangerous snare that when fully bloomed, when fully sprouted will hopelessly entangle the two of us together.

And when he leans in, I feel my heart flutter with anticipation, stomach leaping and turning.

"Who said that? Who said I wouldn't be above putting on a show? I don't care for the endless faces in here, the endless bodies when there's only one person I want to see beg and thrash with pleasure, when there's only one body I want to familiarise myself with."

His words stoke a heat, everything about him seems to, and the confidence he says it with. Assured and dripping with promise and want makes for an entangled web that makes me hopelessly drawn.

Imagine for a moment, indulging in his wicked words, about him pressing against me, mouth hot and feverish against my own, hands tugging me into the cradle of his body, hands trailing under skirts.

Imagine him making true on his words.

I know it's a honeyed trap he sets but it's one I gladly snare myself in.

Tilting forward, the tip of my finger brushing back a curl as it trails down to skim across his jaw, mapping the sharp angle of his face, tilt his chin up.

"How so? Would you kneel in front of all of these people? Let them see a powerful lord lower himself for a courtesan of all people?" I ask, watching his eyes flit to my lips, the brown of his eyes darkening as he takes in my words.

A rakish grin searing across his face.

I wonder what it'd feel curved against skin.

"Rather bold of you to assume that me kneeling would mean you hold the power? I don't mind kneeling and seeing you be ruined by my touch, trying to stay standing. Far from it—do you know the thrill of watching someone try to remain in control when it's all they can do is not collapse from the ecstasy burning in their veins?" he asks, voice low and gravelly, thumb brushing across the rim of my glass, a slow trail of his touch as he cocks his head. Deep green emeralds glinting and dangling from thin silver wires, looped through his ears.

My hand reaches out to brush against it, the deep green brushing against my skin as I lean forward to look at it; eyeing the small stones set around it.

My eyes focus on the jewel rather than his face, knowing the hypnotic tug would only reel me forward, know that if my eyes strayed to his lips, I'd ache to taste them again.

That true to his word I'd let him kneel and ruin me in the middle of the tavern, I'd let him—and the thought is thrilling and dangerous.

That I'm so willing to let myself be taken, so willing to indulge and drown in the pleasure.

His words make my body feel contained and trapped in the lacings and stays, feel irritated suddenly by the countless layers. By the corset Minnie had helped me lace myself into earlier, his own body thrumming with energy and excitement to see Namjoon, hating the layered petticoats and skirts that had swished with every step as we walked around the town square.

"You think you could make me collapse from it? Make my legs buckle?" I finally ask, eyes drifting to his, a deep hunger sparked by his gaze that unabashedly trails over my face, down the column of my throat to the teasing neckline.

"I know so~ and intend to prove my words' worth." He drawls.

There's something about the rich baritone, the rough timbre to his smooth melodic voice that makes my spine tingle, makes my body curl.

I raise my glass, keeping my eyes fixed on his as I down it, heat spreading across my body.

Tugged into the intoxicating feeling of desire bubbling and spilling over, leaning over to brush a kiss across the corner of his mouth, feel his hand graze my jaw before curling closer. Mouth slotting together in an entangled press of tongue, lips and teeth, slow and heady, tasting the same berry on his lips, on his tongue as it sweeps into my mouth and chases the liquor with deep sweeps, groaning against me.

Feel his fingers skim across the shoulder of my dress, before his thumb brushes against the lobe of my ear, skimming across the pearl that dangles on a thin wire of gold.

Actions speak louder than words after all.

And his touch promises, sears his intent across my lips, head swimming with the buzz of intoxication that he brings more than the alcohol.

Lips swollen and slick as I lean away.

"How about next time... next time you visit bandit, you steal the pleasure for me? Loot me of breath." I challenge and tease.

Breath shuddering.

His eyes flash.

"I'll make you watch as I do so." Finally reaching for his glass, taking a sip as he looks at me, eyes simmering and pooling with unspoken meaning and secrets.

Tilts his glass against my lips and watches me drinks it, head tilting back to let it run down my throat as I swallow.

Watch him stand and feel a pang of longing as he reaches for his jacket, pushing forward coins towards the counter; Hoseok appears to draw them away with a grin.

He always tips generously.

Watch him turn, moving to navigate out the bustle.

But then he pauses.

Deliberates before turning, head cocked at me.

"I'll make full use of the gift I sent." He promises before melting into the crowds, slipping into them.

And yet despite how much he commandeers attention, he vanishes somehow, disappearing from sight.

Leaving me with words to decipher.

Only clicking once I hear the warm laugh as Hobi speaks.

"Smitten with your pretty boy? You should see the look on your face."

See... I'll make you watch as I do so.

The mirror.

Taehyung sent the mirror.

And the implications his words leave, heated and sensual, has my body unconsciously tightening with anticipation, eyes focusing on the crowd even though he's undoubtedly left already.

Suddenly his words have weighted meaning, and the same mirror I'd checked my appearance in, turning to see all angles of the dress on me, has a power in it.

Taehyung sent the mirror.

And he wanted me to watch as he took me apart.

Stars... the man was set out to ruin. And he hadn't even done anything yet.

And still... still that thrum of pleasure already began to curl across skin.

TAE POV:

My mind buzzes, thrumming with the threads of the plan slowly cording together, silent as I brush my bare hand down the horse's mane, soothing and keeping him still as we waited. Feeling the silent shuffles and quiet nickers as it pawed at the ground with his hooves.

Soon.

Soon.

Wait with an impatience thrumming in my own veins, eyes scanning and sweeping the area, searching and ears straining for the familiar sound of thundering hooves and the rattling roll of a carriage, lips curving wide when finally... finally the sound steadily grows closer. The loud nickering of the horse as it approaches, my hand curling around the reins, legs tightening and feet digging in as I snap the reins, urge my horse into a quick gallop, brushing past the guise of trees and urging the horse on quicker.

See the flash of brown and the bright livery of the coach driver whose face blanches, alarm crossing it, hands tightening into reins to yank the horses to a halt, hooves scattering, bodies rearing back as I urge my horse to gallop forward, gallop past as my dagger swings out, cutting and freeing the reigns of one horse; the balance of the carriage thrown off-kilter, cutting across the path and watching everything come to a screaming, jolted halt.

Anger and confusion and fear flashes across the driver's face; cheeks ruddy and complexion blanched, bravely pushing himself off the seat and stumbling down towards me. My hand brushes over the reins, urging the horse to a stop, rubbing gently at the mane as I swing my legs over and disembark, landing steadily, the loose cape fluttering.

There's always this sense of thrill and amusement at the anger, so readily expelled and so useless— anger doesn't save them so when he swings, drawing the sword at his hip out, it's almost pitying how the clang of blade against blade has him blinking.

As if he truly didn't expect a masked figure to approach armed.

It's disheartening truly.

And so I make up for the almost sorrowful sinking sensation in my heart by relishing in the look of blind panic when his parrying becomes messy and uncoordinated, poor swordsmanship turning sloppier as my own sword's blade slams his out of his hold, toeing it aside and tilting his chin up with the tip of it.

"For someone working for the ever esteemed family of Choi, shouldn't you be at least better trained? Or rather... someone adequate be hired?" I ask, voice a low drawl, grinning at the sight of sweat beading at his temple, hands curling into fists as they tremble.

Pride and fear.

Makes for a dangerous combo.

"I— far better than a commonplace thief." He grits out, swallowing when the blade inches forward, tip pressing to his Adam's apple.

"Commonplace... that's insulting. If that were so— I'd have robbed your paltry wages at the 23rd of this month as you take the highway back to your home. But I didn't." I note, feigning an air of disinterest when truly my eyes are captivated and drawn to the sight of his eyes widening, at the small jolt his body gives and the stunned expression that freezes his face.

"Robbed your meagre house with its low class furnishings... if that were so I'd have torn into your new armoire and seen if anything was worth my taste. But I already know it's not..." I continue, watching his face blanch.

Knowledge after all is a powerful tool if wielded correctly. And in the wrong hands a weapon.

Bravado crushes under the heel of the new boots I'd gotten made, crushed under dark leather and the smear of his life much like the mud that clings to my heel.

Quite bothersome that Choi's appointment ended on a day where last night's rain had made the forest floor slippery and the paths looser.

"How do you— please don't. Pardon my family... I'm the only—" he beseeches.

I take a step forward, watching him peter into silence.

Pitiful as it is that he's the sole earner, his family lives bare and simple.

And my task, my want or interest isn't with him.

However the threat lingers, the possibility that I very well could rings in his ears as I take step after step forward, lowering the sword until I'm standing close enough to see the shaky tremor to his mouth.

"To keep my interests far away from your own... know how certain answers will need to be given once I'm done." I whisper softly, unrepentant as I tug out my gun, slamming the butt of it against his head and watch as his eyes roll and his body crumples to the ground.

Brushing past after I've severed the stitching of the centre horse's reins, cutting at the fine leather until it's loose and unravelling, would snap with a strong tug at them when the driver commandeers them later. Moving towards the carriage, eyes flashing with delight to see the surprised startled look of the rather mousy looking man inside.

Thin and timid and peering with unbridled fear and confusion as I clamber in, slamming the coach door shut as I slump into the seat opposite.

Hear the wavery weakness to his voice as he speaks.

"What do you want? Who are you?"

I lean forward, eyes drifting across the files scattered across the cushions, loose papers having fluttered to the ground. Bend to pluck one between gloves fingers as I peer at the numbers and details.

"It seems like you make an awful amount of money Choi. And I'm a man who wants it for myself." 

See the custom mix of fear and rage sear across his features, the rich quality of the fabric sitting uselessly around a thin frame, highlighting how scrawny Choi was.

"And if I don't want to give it?"

I feel the corners of my lips tug up.

"Then I know how to take regardless. Rest assured I'll be emptying your pockets today. Whatever it takes."

It's a welcomed surprise when Choi lunges, hand dragging out a dagger I'd already seen the outline of, impressed he'd mustered the courage to draw it, knuckles whitened as he clutches it, angles it towards me with a shaking grip.

"I'll hurt you." He threatens.

I pluck my own dagger, twirling it between my fingers before slashing a cut across his forearm, see red seep across the rich imported cotton. Feel a pang at the waste. See the hand gripping his dagger unconsciously fold to grip his arm, hissing and eyes flashing.

The second he does so, my other hand curls around his wrist, a crushing grip until his hand spasms and the dagger clatters uselessly to the floor, kicked aside with the brush of my boot.

"And I've hurt people for far less than what you've done." Unflinching as my dagger slashes across his other arm, blooming matching stains of red seeping through cloth, leaning forward to cut the pocket of his breeches, drawing the weighted purse to me.

Relishing in the weighted click of coins sagging in my palm.

"But you... you earn more than a pretty penny don't you Choi? I'm sure you won't die but merely mourn this loss." I croon, see the parting of his mouth to speak,  dagger twisting in my hold as I angle it towards him. 

Head cocked, brows raised.

"I dare you say something... I'd love a reason to wedge this in your throat."

—————

It's familiar now. The halls of the establishment and the ever constant smell of perfume and incense, the low thrum of voices that never quietens no matter what hour. Business seems to run even when the town sleeps, even when the sun is yet to dawn and the night is yet to slip away. Business in bed never truly comes to a halt.

So when I slip into the hallway, it's with lanterns to light up the darkened inside, hearing the clack of my heels against the floor as I brush past the main drawing room, past the reception and see a man at the desk, drawn and immersed in his work.

Sink back into the shadows and watch as he rifles through the register, the scratching of the fountain pen against parchment, the candle fluttering weakly above his desk, sputtering and losing strength. Steadily melting into wax.

Watch as it extinguishes, leaving behind a curl of smoke to brush through the air, watch as he straightens and eyes the candle, body turning as he slips away to a side entrance door to what I presume is the office to get another.

Ears strain for the footsteps to quieten before slipping forward, heels now noiseless as I move across the floor, body quiet and swiftly moving up the staircase, taking the winding curl of steps away from the front.

When I reach the top, before the desk vanishes from sight; my eyes drift over the spilled parchment sheets splayed out, the dark curl of ink still gleaming and yet to dry. See the smoke from the candle still curl before I take the final step upwards and vanish.

That was business.

And (Y/N) was pleasure. 

And business and pleasure had no duty mixing, so I will the thoughts to quieten, move away; everything has a time and place for it. And right now the time and place was solely for   (Y/N).

I force myself to turn away and take the steps up to her chamber, move down the long hallways and let the same fluttery excitement that had thrummed in my body reignite; every step taking me closer to her, taking me closer to the familiar wooden doors.

Remember pinning her against them, holding her there and mouth chasing and curling towards hers, remembered my body leaning forward to rest against the curved warmth of her own; aching to feel the press of her against me without the layers restricting us. 

Feel the wood against my knuckles when I knock, the sound seeming to boom in the quiet of her floor, as if the world inside the brothel has come to sleep whereas the truth is there's worlds contained within each room, bubbles of noise and sound and movement that doesn't overlap with the world just on the other side of the wall.

Know it because (Y/N) had reassured that our voices, our conversations couldn't be heard. And that no-one would be able to tell whether we were entangled in the sheets and each other or sprawled across the sheets and teasing playfully.

See the doors swing open and breath stuttering in my throat at the sight of how comfortable she looks, nightgown draped loosely across her, fitted around her chest and draped loosely, hair tumbling across her shoulders and face clear and cleaned of any cosmetics she might've applied for her appointments earlier.

This. This marks a difference.

The lack of effort for when we meet, the way her face is bare and it's the softness of her features so at wonderful odds with the fiery tease that tugs me, draws me in. Not the sensual allure that shadowed eyes and painted lips give. But her. She is the appeal. She is sensual grace and tease in the way she looks, even now... eyes turning into something warm and weighted; a mixture of fire that can scorch and can also warm.

The lack of effort on her behalf is utterly contradicted by my own, taking meticulous, thought out care into choosing clothes. I adored finery and clothes; adored decking myself up knowing that the eyes that lingered, lingered for a reason. Because they couldn't tear their gazes away, because they were drawn to the sight of wealth and confidence both adorn well.

But I wanted her eyes to linger. Wanted her gaze to darken and focus. Wanted her to pause in her steps.

So I watch as her eyes trail over my hair, over my throat where thin chains of gold rest against skin, where they trail down the lower neckline, fabric taut and fitted to my torso. Watch appreciation make her eyes flash, leaning against the doorway, head resting against the wood as she watches me, lets her eyes linger on skin, trail lower and pause at my waist.

Grin at the way her eyes flit to mine quickly before stepping forward, fingers drifting over the chains.

"Like it? It's a commissioned piece." I murmur, watch her fingers loop through the hanging chains curled around my hips and tug, body easily tilting into the touch, letting myself be drawn closer, her words a soft murmur that grazes against skin.

"I do. I really do." She murmurs back, voice curling warm as she brushes her lips against my collar, tongue flicking teasingly.

The air around us charged and crackling, watch as her eyes drift upwards, lingering on my mouth before meeting my eyes.

"Did you pretty yourself up to make true on your promise?" she asks curiously.

My lips stretch wider, hand reaching to drift across the frilled edge of her nightgown, laced shoulders revealing the unmarked curve of them.

The thought that she'd been waiting... that she asked makes a deep fierce want bloom as I look at her, fingers trailing lower to curl around her forearm, hand brushing across fabric as I draw her closer.

"I pretty myself up for you... but I took especial care today." I admit.

I'd had no idea I'd see her like this, hair gleaming under the hallway's lighting, to see her like this, hand brushing down to graze against the bare skin of where the shirt's neckline allows access. Feel the brush of her palm, fingers slipping under fabric, face tilting up in silent invitation to me.

"I appreciate a man who dolls himself up... makes me all the more eager to take my time in taking it all off." She croons, lips grazing against mine with a gentleness that still steals my breath, words a low croon; so deliciously misinformed that I can't help the quirk of lips against hers, can't help but let my teeth graze across her bottom lip, tugging it towards me, teeth nipping and relishing in the small, startled exhale as my tongue brushes over the sting, laves over it before brushing across the seam of her lips.

"Who said I was taking anything off?" hand curling around her waist, billowed fabric crushed against her skin, the heat of her body seeping through the thin fabric as I nudge her in, lips pressing to her jaw, the heel of my boot pressing against the door to slam it shut, hand fumbling blindly to lock it before my attention refocuses entirely on her.

There's a thrill in seeing understanding bloom in her eyes, in the way her hand comes to rest on my shoulder, breath curling around my throat as she dips her head to press a lingering kiss there.

"Is that so? Why's that Lord Kim?" she croons sweetly, eyes wicked and searing, letting me nudge her towards her bed, sinking down as she peers up at me, arms steadying her as she leans back.

Watches me loom over her.

"Because tonight's about you sweetheart. I want to repay the favour... show you just how well you took care of me. Won't you let me do the same?" I murmur, sinking down into a crouch, hands curling around her calves, skimming lightly across smooth skin, hands gripping skin, hidden under the loose drape of her nightgown.

I'd do anything to please her, anything to see the same wickedness morph into pleasure, into ecstasy, body trembling as she tries to keep herself from shattering.

I'd take her apart piece by piece; relish in it. But I'd treasure putting her back together too.

Watch her eyes trail over me, follow the movement of my hands before she nods, legs parting slightly and breath hitching as my hands continue to hike up, pushing the fabric upwards, eyes drinking in the soft supple skin of her body, eyes taking in the silky lace drawers clinging to the shape of her thighs, curved and hidden, hands curling around the soft fabric before tugging. Gripping her to me as I hoist her up, her body cradled towards me.

Feel the grip of her hands as they curl into the fabric, knuckles grazing against my shoulders, eyes feverish and burning as she looks at me, legs locking around me, the fluttering drape of fabric hanging around her.

Move her towards the end of the bed, towards her dresser, watch her eyes flit to it.

See the startled surprise when I set her down, hands gripping her waist to twist her around so she's facing her reflection, facing herself and looking at me through the ornate mirror, the fabric fluttering as it comes to settle around her once more.

Watch her gaze track my hand's movements as it curls across her stomach, a primal spark shooting across my spine when my other hand nudges at the low of her back and she bends, lets herself be nudged forward, hands steadying herself on the edge of the dresser. Clutching at the varnished wood, hair falling forward and head tilted to peer at my own figure looming behind hers.

My fingers trail over her bare nape, feel the shiver of her body as they trail lower over the curve of her spine, the heat of our bodies merging together through the thin barrier of the fabric that clings almost obscenely to her chest, clinging around the enticing curves, pulled taut as her front is lowered further.

Feel her body curve as my hand comes to rest on the low of her back, other hand pulling her backwards against me, fingers panned across her abdomen as my hips grind forward, see her fingers tighten on the wood, gaze lidded. Peering at me through lowered lashes as her lips part in a silent exhale.

Always such control.

Such awareness of her own responses, aware of how close her body comes to betraying her.

Always the softest sounds slipping past her lips.

As if she either hadn't ever had the pleasure of feeling extasy so deep that it was torn past her lips, bubbled past without conscious thought or whether she was toying—whether this was her way of saying... not good enough. Make me spill.

And it was a challenge that flared and bloomed as I grip the side of her nightgown, drawing it up and over her back, fingers sliding under the fitted hem of her drawers, nails trailing lightly across the skin of her hips just to see her jolt before pushing back into the touch.

Maybe she'd never had someone touch so gently and then reach in to drag every drop of pleasure out. Maybe no-one had made soft exhales, almost noiseless, turn into keening cries.

Maybe no-one had.

But I had every intention to.

Let my hand drift under the thin loose gown, knuckles brushing against skin, thumb brushing over the grooves at her spine, hand chasing the soft warmth of her body.

"Reckon you can stay standing too?" I ask, voice low, gravelly at the thought of her body buckling, unable to hold herself up from the pleasure searing across her body.

Lips curling at the corner at the challenging stare she shoots back, throat bobbing as she meets my stare.

"Even if you do your worst bandit." She vows.

I grin.

Hand curling lower to rest against the silk hugging her behind, hand smoothening over it, nails lightly trailing over the fitted drawers.

"Oh doll... I won't need to do my worst to win." I promise, bending down to drag her drawers down, eyes drinking in the sight, drawing open the loose lacings at the front where my hand slithers down before my fingers hook into the waistband to draw them off, teeth aching to sink into the unmarked softness, fingers longing to grip tightly and keep her bared for me.

There's no hesitation, no shyness, nothing but crackling desire simmering as she draws one leg up and then the other to step out of them, discarded easily to the side as I stand, hand gripping and kneading at the soft flesh; a groan slipping past my lips at how readily she cants her hips back into the touch, hands gripping the curve of her hips to still her.

"Already eager?" I tease, arm wrapping around her abdomen whilst the other slips up to drag upwards, the thin fabric hiding the track my hand takes, eyes flitting to see her own glued to the sight, impatient to feel the soft warmth of her body against my palm, feel her stomach clench with anticipation as my hand inches up.

Stopping inches away from the curve of her breasts, knuckles barely grazing across the underside before my touch retreats, see the disbelief and shuddered groan as her head whips back to shoot an incredulous look.

The same hand that had slithered away, slips away from under nightgown to grip her jaw, noses brushing as I lean in; mouth ghosting along hers.

"Eyes on the mirror. And they need to stay that way." I croon before tilting her face back, letting my hand drift to brush light touches across the column of her throat, brushing against her collarbones before reaching for the bow. Tug on it and watch it loosen and unravel, tugging at the stays; the force tugging her forward, back bowed as the laces open under my touch, revealing the contained swells of her cleavage, thumb brushing over the rounded curve, feel her try tilt into the touch.

How the tables turn... the thought flits through my head as I watch her try to push herself forward and into the light touch, eyes pooling with need.

How sweet that she already looks so desperate when I've not even touched her where I want to.

"Taehyung... are you here to play games?" she groans out, words dripping with frustration and charged, electric need.

I lean over, head hooking over her shoulder, meeting her eyes even as I let my weight bear down on her, force her into a lower dip, more pronounced that has her hips pushing back against me, arousal curling low in my gut.

"What game?" I ask, head tilting against hers, nose grazing across her cheek, lips brushing against her lobe, teeth nipping before ducking lower, slotting my lips over the crook of her neck, mouthing at skin, teeth dragging and trailing lower, dragging the shoulder of her loose gown away to slot lips over the curve.

See her chest heave, see the round curve of her breast bared further by the motion, hands clutching the vanity and eyeing me with unrestrained hunger.

"The game of cat and mouse." She shudders when my hand cups her breast over the fabric, fingers sinking to grip tightly, feel the stuttered breath and wish for it to be exhaled against my own skin, to be swallowed by my mouth crushed against hers.

"If that's the case... maybe I want to toy with you... maybe I want you so strung up you could fall apart at the barest of touches." I whisper against her skin, thumb brushing over the perked bud, roughly grazing against it, a sweeping pressure that has her back arching even as she tries to keep herself bent and her eyes met with mine.

Trying to keep herself gathered, trying to keep herself from losing the challenge that only fuels our desire to unravel and provoke and rile the other up.

"You won't win." She says confidently, though her words waver when my fingers tighten, curling around the soft giving flesh, the cotton dragging roughly against the stiff bud I work between my thumb and finger.

"Mhm... confidence is a good look doll. But only when it's certain... not sweetly breathless." I tease.

The hand that's been banded across her abdomen loosely unravelling, hand drawing circles into the skin of her stomach, relishing in the tenseness I can feel under my touch, tips of my fingers trailing lower to cup her, feel the hiss as her body bucks.

"I recall a promise I made." I say, fingers tracing circles, slow and unhurried, taking her restless movements and drinking in the flutter of her eyes before she locks gazes with me.

Let her feel the brush of rings against skin when I cup the inside of her thigh and tug her leg open wider.

Let them press against the sensitive inner skin, grazing a line back to her centre, the tip of my finger teasing before slowly easing inside.

Hear the relieved exhale, legs parting unconsciously, feel her startle at the press of the ring before she groans.

Lips parting in silent understanding.

"Imagine how they'd feel inside you. Imagine how pretty they'd look stained with your pleasure." I echo once more, not expecting the shaky breath, the way her back bows, so visibly affected to the words.

Don't expect the words to spill past her lips.

"What do you think I've done for days Taehyung? How do you think I've pleasured myself? To the same promise you made so why don't you... fulfil it now?" she says, voice trembling as she bucks her hip to the touch, incessant and hands gripping tighter when I ease my fingers inside, curling and feeling the way she trembles and goes taut before relaxing; a deep shuddery breath that has me pausing, hand smoothening over her back, leaning to press a kiss to her nape.

The thought of her pleasuring herself, body thrashing and bucking for relief under her own touch, chasing a relief because of my words... because my words had coaxed that out of her. This hungering need for relief. The thought that she's spent the week chasing pleasure with me in my mind makes my body physically throb; a gnawing ache to press her body against mine and chase the heat and intimacy of pressed skin and entangled limbs.

"Okay?" I ask.

She nods jerkily, hips pushing back.

"More than okay... it's intense." She admits, a keening cry tearing past her lips when my fingers move, grip turning tighter and chest heaving; straining even against the open lacings, hips bucking into the touch even as she shudders.

Feel her body tremble around my touch... because of my touch, feel her spine bow and my body chases forward, curling closer to keep her pinned like this, keep her body from thrashing, relishing in the slew of choked cries, her hand curling back to grip at my leg, trying to push away, hair curling around eyes that dilate, cheeks that turn pink and flushed, throat bobbing as her breath trembles past lips.

See the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip, thumb tugging the soft bitten flesh free, rhumb brushing against the slick heat.

"I want to hear everything... how else will I know?" I coo, feeling her body go taut, tremble and curl as she pushes up, forearms shaking as she tries to keep her body from buckling.

Not that I'd mind the sight... not that I don't feel pleasure; hot and heavy course and flood low in my abdomen, hips grinding messily forward to chase the pulse of desire that thrums electric and heady.

Not that I wouldn't mind bending her over the dresser and seeing her body jolt forward, to see her hands scrabble furiously for purchase.

And when she goes still, it's for a long tense moment before her back arches, pushing away from the dresser and a cry tearing past her lips; wanton and trembling, eyes fluttering shut, clenching tightly against the pleasure that slams into her and washes over in waves, body jolting and thighs closing around my fingers, trying to close around the way my fingers continue to move, drawing out the pleasure until her body slumps, breath ragged.

Watch her watch me as my fingers withdraw, holding them up; lips curving wide at the slump of her body, fingers crooking as I bend them.

Stained with her arousal, fingers and rings.

Just as I'd promised.

See her eyes track me as I draw my fingers to my lips, tongue flicking over them before closing around them, tasting her arousal on my tongue; mouth watering and aching to chase more of it.

See her chest heave, trying to draw in deep lungfuls of air, see her eyes glint as her lips stretch into a loose smile.

"Still standing." She manages to get out, voice breathless.

Still challenging. Still teasing and provoking.

My hands drift, moving to grip her thighs tightly, fingers digging in as I drag them open wider, leg slotting between them and pushing against the apex of her thighs, feel her buck and slump; unconsciously pushing into the touch even my leg draws back.

See her eyes widen when I lower myself down, kneeling behind her, pushing the nightgown roughly above her hips, lips brushing across the back of her thigh, teeth nipping just to see her jolt, a bubble of laughter slipping out.

"And I never said I was done." I croon, hands drawing her stance wider, watching her bend down lower, arms lowered until her torso brushes against the vanity.

"We're not done until I'm done with you." I promise, breath fanning across skin before my mouth ducks lower to close around her, feel the startled hitch and the shaky murmur of my name.

"Taehyung I—" protest petering off into a groan when my tongue brushes against her, curling and teasing; chasing the heady taste of her, hands gripping her wide and bared for me, body sprawled across the dresser.

And slowly the edge of slight sensitivity morphs into pleasure when I feel her jolts turn into messy grinds as she tilts and tries to bend further to the touch, to the way her cries turn from protests to shaky pleas for more, hips bucking.

I groan against her, tongue chasing the taste of her, lips closing to suck, feel her legs try to shut, pinned open, fingers bruising and gripping as I tug her towards my lips, tug her from twisting away from it.

Feel her legs tremble, thighs jittering as they go tighten and relax, torn between chasing the pleasure I know steadily building in her body, feel my own desire pulse heavy at the way her entire body responds so visibly.

Mouth sliding away to peer at the way her knuckles have tightened, palms pressed wide across the dresser. See the way how her head has fallen forward, hair hiding her expression, see swollen lips shake and tremble, hear the keened cry brushing against the wood.

"Your taste—is addicting." I groan, mouthing across the back of her thighs, teeth dragging in a light pinch on the inside of her thigh, mouthing wetly at her skin, feel her body respond to even the lightest of touches.

Curl closer to press my mouth to the apex of her thighs, groaning against skin at her taste, at the way she curls and keens and yet her body so readily responds; fingers easing in beside my tongue, coaxing out pleasure and arousal to pulse in her body, feel her peak approach when her legs begin to shake, when her breaths turned muffled and shakier, body curling away and legs closing instinctively.

Let my hands slither away from the back of her legs to instead band across, hand pushing the low of her back down, keeping her pinned and the other banding across the front of her thighs to yank her back to the touch, mouthing and tongue brushing in slow deep drags, curling around her and a muffled groan against her when her hand reaches back blindly to sink fingers into my hair, to keep me anchored to her even as she keens.

A shaky sound torn past her lips that sounds ruined... wrecked with the pleasure and when her body stiffens her legs tremble, jolting violently, thrashing as my mouth and fingers continue to move, continue to push that pleasure into another cresting wave, until the next cry is my name shaky and watery.

My hands slide away, gently rubbing against skin, drawing her down from that peak of pleasure, drawing her down, leaning behind her, against her hip and seeing the stain of her arousal smeared across my face, see watery blown-out eyes blink at me slowly, groaning.

And when I stand, drawing her back against me, her legs buckle. Body crumpling and steadied against me, my hands curving around her to keep her tucked against me, head hooking over her shoulder.

Drink in her flushed expression, her hooded eyes that blink slowly, mouth parted as she draws in breath, hand dropping to grip at my forearm, head falling back, mouth pressing shakily against my jaw.

"I win." I croon.

Feel the puff of her breath curl around my throat, the shaky smile pressed against skin.

"Did you though?"

But even as she says it, even as I draw and steady her body against the cradle mine makes, the answer comes itself.

The line blurs between winning and losing.

But only when it comes to her.

When it comes to this.

(THERE WE GO! THE CHAPTERS SEEM TO BE GETTING LONGER—SORRY BUT NOT COS I'M LOVING WRITING THIS SO SO MUCH! IT JUST MAKES ME ALL EEEEEEK AND EXCITED TO WRITE!! ALREADY I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEXT!! Midiiplier —I HOPE YOU FOUND THAT DIALOGUE IF YOU DIDN'T SHH... LIPS ARE SEALED! AND HOPE EVERYTHING IN THIS IS ACTUALLY MAKING YOU HAPPY AND EXCITED TO READ... HOPE HE BECOMES WORTHY OF BEING THE BANDIT I WANTED FOR YOU! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND HOW YOU FOUND THE CHAPTER! TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE!!)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3