Lifetime

Apology

The chain to my purse jingled, sliding off my shoulder as the door clicked shut and I pressed my back against it. The bag, along with the coat that hung by my elbows fell into a small pile on the floor and I was too intoxicated to care.

"Did you have fun?" Jungkook's voice was low. I couldn't read the intent behind his question.

"I was having fun," my shoes clicked against the floor with every step closer to him until I stood only a space in front of him, "until you left me all alone." I complained.

I watched his chest rise with the deep sigh he released. One of his arms stretched out behind him and I noticed the veins that showed in his forearm, protruding with the tension of his balled fist.

"It was either that or watch me kick your boss' ass in front of everyone for that comment he made after you spent the night flirting with him." His tone gained accusation as he went on, a brow raised as he looked up to meet my gaze.

Sometimes your instinctual response isn't the best response. I'd learned that lesson over and over again with him in the near two years we'd known each other. It took every ounce of will in me to push away the snarky reply that jolted through my mind and the urge to defend myself, to remind him that I was only playing the game he'd come up with.

Instead, I did the thing he didn't expect and that we talked about him needing when he was mad. His legs were already spread, bulky thighs held tight in the leather pants Taehyung begged him to wear. I perched myself on one of them, feeling a hand automatically move to the small of my back, beckoning me closer while I kissed the corner of his frown.

"Which part are you upset about?" I asked, watching for cues that he was getting calmer as I reached into the gap where the top of his shirt was unclasped. I let my fingers trace over his chest and up to his shoulder, rubbing softly at the skin until his body sank with ease.

He always needed something physical. It was easy to conclude once I recalled the first time I felt it, when the tension dissolved as we held onto each other after my acceptance of our relationship, and then during the sex we had after every argument. It was the reason he pulsed with the urge to fight, lost himself in painting using his hands as instruments and covered himself in ink that allowed him to focus on a physical sensation when he was angry.

"Because he thinks he can have you." He muttered through a clamped jaw.

I couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled over my lips, reminded of his irritation when his muscles became taut beneath my touch again. "You know he can't have me." I clarified, refuting the absurd idea.

"I still should have punched him for what he implied." He persisted, digging his fingertips into my thick hip.

"I love how protective you are," I claimed, glossing my lips over his with his affirming hum, "but you can't fight every guy who thinks or says he can have me."

The smirk on his lips that spread across my neck gave a slight tickle, my hands lacing into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Want to bet?"

He whined when I removed my hand from underneath his shirt, stretching out to take the one he held tightly in a fist and moving it so he gripped onto my thigh. "I'm not playing any more games tonight." I whispered. The long-lasting lipstick I wore proved its efficacy through most of the night, starting to fade with dull prints left behind as I kissed along his jaw.

I pulled through a few more buttons on his shirt, watching him shutter at the feel of my nails combing from the center of his chest to his stomach.

"I should apologize." He sighed.

My eyebrows raised at him in a taunt. "Should you?"

He was serious, lifting my chin and keeping his eyes set on mine. He kissed me with each apology, his lips tugging at mine until his were stained a deep pink. "I'm sorry that my anger got the best of me and that I left you alone," I hummed with satisfaction when he tacked on another, "and for bringing up you flirting with him."

The buildup of our embrace, subtle touches and kisses we shared had my desire for him at its peak, and I enjoyed his repentance.

"Apologize better." I urged, keeping my demand pointed and voice just above a whisper.

He grazed his fingers from where they rested by the edge of my dress, lifting the fabric so that they crept up my leg. "I'm sorry I didn't make you my priority. I should have stayed to comfort you." He mumbled between the sloppy kisses I pressed to his mouth, holding his jaw to keep control. His lips pursed against mine, brow pulling together when his hands ambled by my waist, his puzzled expression and inquiry making me chuckle. "Where are your underwear?"

"Probably still in Taehyung's pocket." I recalled, noting the rumble of his chest with silent laughter. "You weren't the only one having fun tonight." I snickered, remembering the way Taehyung asked for them an hour into the party. I slipped them off in the bathroom, sneaking the frilly fabric into his hand and watching him stuff it into his pants.

My breath caught when Jungkook slid me off his lap, my dress still bunched close to the tops of my thighs. "Makes the rest of my apology easier." He noted, keeping a hand on my leg as he positioned himself on his knees in front of me.

He undid the last button of his shirt, letting the soft material fall from his shoulders before curling his fingers around my ankle. He lifted my foot so that the tip of my heel was set against his chest, reminding me that he held a small affinity for punishment.

His jaw clenched with every move I made to free myself of my dress, the heel poking deeper every time I leaned forward until the dress was discarded on the other side of the couch. While he drank me in through lust-filled eyes, I paid attention to the slow, anticipatory rise and fall of his chest. With his knees pressed into the hardwood floor and those leather pants hanging low at his hips, the material tightening over his lap, I brimmed with yearning.

"I knew you could do better." I praised, relaxing my foot so that it only rested against him. Watching him made me ache for more, the escalation igniting every nerve ending and my patience wearing thin. "Continue." I instructed.

He brought his hand back to my calf, wrapping his fingers around the smooth skin and pressing a kiss just above the strap of my shoe. When his lips disappeared from the inside of my ankle he guided his hand an inch higher, letting his mouth land behind it. The peppered kisses against my leg left me reaching for something to hold on to, settling for clutching onto the throw pillow next to me since I couldn't naturally reach his hair without rushing him.

At my thigh he raised my leg a bit higher so that it fell over his shoulder, grabbing the other to place in parallel. He kept his eyes locked with mine, creating a train of kisses that became an unbeatable apology between my legs. By dawn my pretty red lipstick had been smeared enough places to show that in the end, we both won.
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Author's Note: Been a minute since I wrote one of these. Does that video message that Jungkook posted for Jimin's birthday have you in as much of a chokehold as me or what? On that note, wishing my libra king, Jiminie, a happy birthday! I haven't really written much smutty stuff lately so you'll have to let me know how I did. I blame Jungkook for everything that happened in this chapter. Toodles!