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The weeks seems to drag on forever. Seokjin goes into a frenzy of cleaning from the time he gets home from work until after ten o'clock at night, scouring every inch of the usually spotless playroom and scrubbing the grout in the tiles of the bathroom with an old toothbrush. He polishes every inch of chrome and brass exposed in the playroom, oils the leather harness, wraps and rewraps the ropes. Only Taehyung's cabinet is left untouched, except for when Seokjin climbs up a ladder and vacuums the top. Taehyung catches him at it and refuses to let him live it down; he finds notes all over the house with “Clean here” and arrows pointing to shelves, the fridge, behind the sofa, even Seokjin's own bedroom.
“Fuck you ”, Seokjin calls and pulls the note off his door. “I can't help that I'm nervous ”.
“I know , so we may as well take advantage of it,” Taehyung says from his open door across the hall . “Have you sent him his ‘welcome to the party’ email yet?”
“That's what I came up here to do”.
“Not to give you advice or anything, but I will anyway: remember this guy is used to performing through pain. He's probably stronger than you're used to,but don't take advantage of it”.
“I know, I remember what it's like”. Seokjin remembers the horrifying bruises and bloodied feet; he wonders if Jungkook’s skating has left any permanent imprints. “I wonder if he still skates at all”.
“Probably. You still do. Why wouldn't he?”
Seokjin nods and sits down to compose the list of instructions for Jungkook’s visit on Friday. Simple, to the point, no room for misunderstanding.
Arrive at 7:00 P. M. Sharp. Do not be late. Do not be early.
You may walk into the house without knocking. Simply come in, follow the hall to the black door with an antique brass knob situated at the very back, encounter will be open. Undress down to your underwear and place your clothes on the stool that sits right inside the door.
Take your waiting position on the red cushion that will be in the middle of the floor.
I will meet you there, and I expect you to be ready by 7:05 P. M.
I look forward to seeing you. I'll be happy to answer any questions you have in the meantime. I have received the copy of your STI test results, thank you. Everything looks good.
—𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧
He still can't quite believe this is happening, but he hits send and crosses his fingers he didn't mistype the email address Jungkook gave him. He then scrubs his hands over his face, flops onto his bed, and stares at the ceiling.
He's got some serious planning to do, and it's already Wednesday.
****
Friday at 6:57 P. M. finds Seokjin sitting patiently on the other side of the sliding door to the living room that sit’s perpendicular to his front door, looking at his phone and trying to keep his leg still so the incessant tapping doesn't give him away.
6:58. Anytime now.
6:59.
7:00. Seokjin’s heart thumps with anticipation, but there's nothing.
7:01. The click of the door and hesitant steps.
Damn.
Lesson one.
****
At 7:05 P. M. on the nose, Seokjin takes a steadying, calming breath and opens the door to the playroom.
And tries not to come in his pants at what he sees.
Jungkook, clad in nothing but low-slung purple briefs, hair perfectly coifed and forehead exposed, kneeling precisely as asked with his hands carefully placed on his thick beautiful thighs. Head poised, back delicately arched as if he were at the barre. And his face, oh God.
He turns at the sound of the door and his smile is so soft, inviting, seductive.
Seokjin has to turn around and pretend to lock the door just to give himself a mental slap. Yes, he's here, yes, he's beautiful, yes, he wants you to do all sorts of filthy things to him, but you are responsible for him, so fucking handle yourself, Kim.
So he says nothing, simply walks across the room to stand in front of Jungkook, wishing that lovely smile could last all night. But it can't.
“Good evening, Jungkook”, he says. “You were late”.
Jungkook blinks. “I wasn't! I mean, I was here at five after seven, wasn't I?”
“Yes, but I said to be at the house at seven. Not early, not late”.
Jungkook looks down, disappointed. “I've messed up already?”
Seokjin sighs. Oh, this is going to be so difficult. “Yes, Jungkook. You'll learn I mean exactly as I say. No more, no less. This is your one warning. If it happens again, you will be punished”.
“It won't. I promise”.
Seokjin walks toward his cabinet, unlocks it, and selects his riding crop from among the various toys hanging inside. The feel of it in his hand grounds him, chases his nerves away. He leaves the door open, just so Jungkook can get a good look, and walks back. “I expect your obedience in all things. I mete our punishment and pleasure as I see fit, and as you deserve. I'm not hard, nor am I unfair, but I am strict”.
“Okay”, Jungkook says and shifts on his knees. “I'll be more careful. It's just, the cab, and traffic—”
Seokjin flicks his crop out and taps him on the shoulder. He doesn't hit him hard, but it probably is startling.
“Ow! ” Jungkook snaps. “What's that for?”
“Stop making excuses. Or it's your ass next”.
Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but Seokjin sends him his most quelling look, standing over him with legs spread and crop over his shoulder. It's an intimidating picture, he knows; he's calculated his entire persona to be so without verbalising much at all. Jungkook closes his mouth and kneels there, staring at Seokjin with wide light brown eyes.
That's got his attention. Seokjin circles him once again, wondering how long he could actually kneel there without getting tired. His muscle tone is still perfect, and, as he looks more closely, there is a tell-tale bruise on his hip from a fall on the ice. He reaches out with his crop and drags the leather tongue from Jungkook’s nape to his waist in a long, slow pull, and watches Jungkook’s skin twitch ever so slightly.
“You're going to do so much better, Jungkook. I know you can. We're going to forget all about the last five minutes and start again. Shall we try out a few things and see if you like them?”
