something old, something new | taekook

Chapter 4: A Throne Is Not A Throne Without A King

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"Oh, Jeongguk," the vampire looks up, flushing red as Taehyung groans from his spot in the doorway, "you are a dream."

Taehyung had pulled out a series of outfits for him to try, the styles different than anything Jeongguk had ever seen Taehyung wear himself. The large walk-in closet had been full, wall to wall, of velvet, silk, and lace. Metal buttons and high collars.

There's no undershirt, only a thick blazer wrapped around his shoulders and buttoned around his throat. The gold detailing borders on too extravagant but even he can't deny how well his skin, now glowing with the feast he'd been given, goes with the color.

His hands shyly lift to cover the cut out over the center of his chest, just above where it covers his navel. It's more revealing than anything he's even worn before. The shorts that barely cover his ass are a whole other story.

"Is this...appropriate?" He asks, completely out of his element but sure he's dressed out of the norm. It feels too feminine, too soft, but Taehyung only grins and steps closer. His change of clothes is even more expensive than what he had worn before, his silk shirt soft under Jeongguk's hands. Taehyung's arms circle his waist and Jeongguk leans into his chest.

"You're absolutely beautiful, my dear. You'll blow them away." Jeongguk doesn't know who 'they' are but he lets Taehyung's words wash over him, lets his hands drop to his sides as Taehyung's fingers trace over the gold threading. The king lifts a jeweled hand to push his hair from his face. "Come." He says, drops the hand again to take his hand.

They make their way from the room silently, their shoes clicking against the marble. Jeongguk clings to his hand, won't make a single step that Taehyung doesn't.

The trip back down the stairs almost seems faster, like they're in a rush despite Taehyung's measured steps down the red runner. Seokjin is no longer at the bottom of the stairs but Taehyung makes no comment, so Jeongguk stays silent. He'll follow Taehyung's lead. Taehyung's fingers stroke over his gently and he stares at their linked hands, takes a breath with each swing.

He almost feels like he's still riding the rush of Taehyung's blood, that his progression in his control has almost turned him more docile. He doesn't mind the feeling. After being alone for so long, scared for so long, he welcomes being able to act without the fear of losing control.

They come upon another set of ornate doors and Jeongguk almost expects Taehyung to push them open with his mind again, but there's a shuffle of footsteps on the other side and the french doors open without a sound. Two women stand on either side, a crest embroidered on the breast pocket of their jackets.

More faces than Jeongguk expected stare back at him and he quickly counts eleven seated around the table. Several eye him with clear disdain, already put off by his presence. There's one sitting at the head of the table, Seokjin seated to his left. His pitch-black hair is styled off of his forehead, orange tips tucked behind his ears.

Taehyung laughs at the sight of him, although there's an edge to his voice. The man in the chair leans his chin on his fist, propped up on the table. There's a smirk on his lips that makes Jeongguk want to take a step behind Taehyung, but he resists. Trust in him, Taehyung had said.

"Park Jimin, I believe you're in my chair." Taehyung greets almost pleasantly, a hard smile on his face.

Jimin's grin only widens, as sharp and dangerous as it is beautiful. "Kim Taehyung, I believe you're about forty years late to dinner. Come, sit down. I've heard its killer."

Jeongguk watches with wide eyes as Taehyung stares the man-Jimin-down. The king's eyes are ever so dark as they slowly, taking in the faces of the other men seated.