Flying first class| Taekook

Chapter 11 🌷

Jungkook gently guided Taehyung to the passenger seat, hand resting lightly on his lower back in a way that still made his own skin feel electric. Once the door shut with a soft click, instead of rounding the car from the front like any normal person might, he walked around the back—buying himself a few seconds to tug his shirt out from where it was neatly tucked into his pants, trying desperately to cover the very obvious problem he was now dealing with.

Just kissing Taehyung had done this to him. Just a kiss. A kiss that had made his heart thunder and his body light up like it was the only thing that had ever mattered.

"Jeon Jungkook, you've completely lost it," he muttered to himself under his breath as he slid into the driver's seat.

The air inside the car was warm and quiet. He adjusted the rearview mirror, flicked on the ignition, and placed his hands firmly on the wheel like it was the only thing grounding him. Next to him, Taehyung sat silently, gazing out the window, but his body was just as tense.

Neither of them said anything at first. Jungkook was too wrapped up in the storm that brewed inside his head—the mortification of having pushed too far, of having maybe crossed a line Taehyung hadn't been ready to cross yet. His fingers gripped the steering wheel harder, knuckles pale, as guilt began to chew away at his giddiness from earlier.

"I shouldn't have done that," his mind repeated over and over. He wanted Taehyung to want him—not to feel pressured, not to feel forced. He wanted every touch, every kiss, every sigh to be mutual. Honest.

Meanwhile, Taehyung sat still, but his thoughts were a far cry from calm. His breathing had slowed, but the memory of Jungkook's lips, his hands, the heady mix of desire and affection—he could still feel it all on his skin. He didn't regret a single second, but he hadn't been prepared for the way it knocked the air out of him and how much he got turned on by just simple touches. He kept quiet, unsure how to express all that was unraveling inside his chest.

As they turned into the quiet neighborhood where Taehyung lived, the calm was suddenly shattered. A motorbike, speeding and reckless, darted out from the side street without warning. Jungkook slammed his foot onto the brake with a gasp, the car lurching to a sharp stop. Taehyung's voice rang out, startled—"Jungkook!"

The bike zipped past, narrowly missing the car. Jungkook blinked rapidly, his heart thudding painfully against his ribcage as the reality of what almost happened hit him like a wave. He turned quickly toward Taehyung, guilt surging through him again.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, throat dry, eyes wide with lingering shock. "I didn't—I wasn't paying attention."

But Taehyung wasn't angry. His only focus was on Jungkook.

His hand had instinctively flown out during the sudden stop—pressed flat against Jungkook's chest to keep him from being jolted forward. And it lingered there, firm but gentle, like a shield. When Jungkook finally noticed it, his breath caught.

Taehyung's eyes scanned his face, serious and tender. "Are you okay?"

Jungkook could barely form words. That hand on his chest—that look in his eyes—it overwhelmed him in the best and worst way.

He loves him. God, he loves this man so much it hurts.

"Yeah," he whispered, not trusting his voice to say more. "I'm okay."

He didn't move away from the hand. He didn't want to. He wanted this—this care, this protectiveness, this closeness—to last just a little longer. But Taehyung eventually lowered his hand, and they sat in silence again, the world suddenly softer, hearts both thundering for reasons they were still just starting to understand.