The Symbol Of Darkness

⑤What The Hell Is This?

The slumber cloaking Taehyung’s consciousness disintegrated piece by piece. 

A hushed, whiny hum burred in his throat as he stretched his limbs, but his movements rested at once. His right arm wasn’t on the bed like the rest of his body. It was laid on a firm yet smooth surface. Warm and kind of sticky, too. It was a surface of... muscles?

His eyes snapped open and met the ribs of a body a few inches away from his face. His somnolent brain worked fast, fumbling through the chaotic mess for memories of the previous night, and it soon struck him like a sobering tsunami. 

Jungkook.

It was embarrassing how he was latched onto his side like a koala, but for his good luck, Jungkook was still fast asleep.

He propped his crumpled left elbow on the bed and fixated his eyes on his sleeping, placid face. Shreds and blurred memories of the night before surged into his head like a turbulent cascade, and by the time most of the fragments were pieced together, he was left in a cesspool of shock and dread and frustration. 

He told him his real name. He never once used his real name the scanty times he slept with strangers. 

With the remembrance came self-blame and scolding, though another thought soon paused the mayhem in his head. 

I should leave before he wakes up.

With that, he withdrew his limbs from his frame and rolled on his back, but his mouth dropped open around a mute scream at the searing ache in his ass. The stab of pain was so intense it numbed him for a couple of seconds, and he truly strove to smother his whines. 

I hold no responsibility if you can’t walk tomorrow. He twisted to look at him with this thought and a muffled huff pushed out of his mouth. Yeah, you and your monstrous dick hold no responsibility. Sure. 

A moue of caustic mockery gleamed in his face, though it fizzled into blankness just seconds later with the melancholic, he could say, reminder that he had to leave. 

A part of him wanted to stay just so he could see his reaction. Maybe kiss him one more time, too. Once more now that he would know it would be the last time. Now that he would be prepared, so he could attend to every little detail of him, assimilate the glide of their lips and the entanglement of their tongues, savor his taste and the eruptive sensations it brought along, embed the feel of his hands roaming all over him in his head, capture the dulcet sound of his moans and gasps. 

It would bring a sort of closure he never imagined he would need...

No matter the itchy flutter of sullenness prickling around his belly, he scooted away and slithered out of bed. 

He breathed through the tremendous pain in his bottom as he limped his way around the bed in search of his boxers. The marble floor with the flower-decorated carpet surrounding the bed was a whirl of diffused clothes, wet wipes, and condoms, and that only hampered his task. He managed to locate the first coveted item and slipped it on before he, slowly and while wincing and hissing, mustered up the rest of his clothes. 

Fully dressed, he set his backpack on the edge of the bed, casting glimpses in Jungkook’s direction for no apparent reason, and reached for the bottle of lubricant, the wet wipes, and the empty pack of condoms that were forgotten on the huge mattress. But as he supported his weight on the bed, his backpack tumbled and crashed down the floor with a sharp thud and a jumble of little clinks and clonks by the items that spilled out. 

His face wore a mask of frustration and shock as his eyes flitted to Jungkook at once, catching him rolling to his side with a muted sigh. A few moments of stillness later, his cute, subtle snores undulated across the room, pulling a sound of absolute relief from him.