Mafia's secret bodyguard

One shot (M)

TOP-KOOK
BTTM-TAE
                        NO INTRODUCTION

In the dimly lit alleyway, a solitary figure moved with the grace of a panther, his eyes scanning the shadows for any signs of danger. The neon lights from the nearby bar flickered erratically, casting a garish glow on the wet pavement. Raindrops tapped out a staccato rhythm on the brim of his hat, echoing in the silent embrace of the night. This was Jeon Jungkook, a man whose very presence could silence a room, a man who ruled with an iron fist in a world where fear and loyalty were the only currencies that truly mattered. His sharp gaze, framed by thick lashes, searched the street, as if daring the darkness to reveal its secrets.

As he approached the nondescript building that served as his base of operations, Jungkook felt a peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation. Tonight was different. Tonight, he was expecting a guest that wasn’t on the usual guest list. A guest that would either cement his power or bring it crumbling down. The sound of a door opening behind him sent a shiver down his spine, but he didn’t flinch. He knew who it was. The scent of rain-soaked leather and a hint of something sweet lingered in the air, a scent that was as familiar to him as the cold steel of a gun.

Kim Taehyung, his secret bodyguard, stepped out of the shadows, water droplets glistening on his well-defined chest, which was partially exposed by the open collar of his shirt. The young man’s eyes were a stormy mix of emotions, his pupils dilated with a hunger that Jungkook knew all too well. The tension between them was palpable, a living entity that danced in the air like electricity before a storm. Their relationship was an unspoken agreement, a dance of power and submission that played out behind closed doors. Jungkook was the mafia king, but in those private moments, Taehyung was the one who truly held the reins.

“You’re early,” Jungkook murmured, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Taehyung’s eyes remained fixed on Jungkook, his jaw clenched. “I couldn’t wait any longer,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire.

The prologue of their clandestine rendezvous ended as Jungkook turned to face the door, swiping his access card with a flick of his wrist. The heavy metal door clicked open, revealing the stark contrast of the warm, opulent interior to the cold, wet world outside. The scent of expensive cigars and fine whiskey enveloped them as they stepped into the elevator, the air thick with anticipation.

As the elevator ascended, Jungkook felt Taehyung’s hand sneak around his waist, pulling him closer. The bodyguard’s touch was possessive, a silent declaration of what was to come. Jungkook’s breath hitched as Taehyung’s other hand trailed up his chest, ghosting over his nipple before pinching it lightly. The sharp sting sent a bolt of pleasure through him, making his cock swell in his tailored pants.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing Jungkook’s penthouse suite. The space was vast and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the glittering cityscape beyond. Taehyung pushed Jungkook against the wall, his hand moving to the back of Jungkook’s neck, pulling him down for a bruising kiss. Jungkook’s hands found Taehyung’s waist, his fingers digging into the soaked leather of his pants as their tongues danced together, a prelude to the more primal dance they were about to perform.

Their clothes were discarded hastily, a flurry of fabric and metal buckles. Jungkook’s eyes raked over Taehyung’s bare body, his gaze lingering on the wet, plump lips of his submissive, the hard planes of his chest, and the erection that jutted out proudly. He knew every inch of this man, had memorized the contours of his body, the sounds he made when he was lost in pleasure. Yet, each time felt like the first, a heady mix of power and lust that only grew stronger with each encounter.