His Darkest Desire ||Taekook||

chapter five

Sunlight filtered through the open curtains, casting a warm glow across Taehyung's face. He groaned, stirring as the early morning light pulled him from sleep. His body ached, sore from the night before, and he rubbed at his eyes, blinking himself awake. But the moment his eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar surroundings, a sharp gasp escaped his lips — this wasn't his room. He was in Jungkook's bedroom. Holy crap. His heart pounded as he looked down and realized two arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, a face nestled into the crook of his neck. Taehyung froze. He tried not to let it get to him, but the intimacy of the embrace sent his mind reeling.

Goosebumps prickled along Taehyung's skin as he felt Jungkook's soft breath fan across the side of his neck, featherlight and warm. His heart stuttered. The intimacy of it made his breath hitch — not out of fear, but something far more dangerous. *God, why did it feel so good?* Mortified, Taehyung resisted the urge to sink into the mattress and disappear entirely.

But then — it hit him. A horrifying realization crashed down like cold water.

Fuck.

His eyes widened.

*What if Jungkook remembers everything?*

Panic surged in his chest, sharp and immediate. If last night hadn't been just an accident — if Jungkook remembered the way they looked at each other, the way Taehyung *felt*—he was done for. He's so going to die.

He needed to get out of here. Now.

Heart racing, Taehyung slowly began peeling Jungkook's arms off his waist, finger by finger, trying not to wake him. Each small movement felt like defusing a bomb. Jungkook murmured something in his sleep, tightening his hold for a split second, and Taehyung froze — breath caught, body stiff — until finally, the grip loosened. He slipped out from under the covers, careful not to make a sound, and sat up.

His eyes darted around the room, scanning for a way out.

That's when he saw it — the large bay window tucked into the far corner of Jungkook's bedroom, morning light pooling through the glass like an invitation. Perfect.

Without a second thought, he tiptoed across the hardwood floor, every creak beneath his feet feeling like a shout. When he reached the window, he gently pushed it open, ready to make the most dramatic, secret escape of his life.

But as the frame lifted and the cool air kissed his face, Taehyung's eyes widened.

What the hell...

**No. No. No.**
There was no railing. No balcony. Just a sheer drop.
One glance down and his stomach churned. Far below, the concrete ground stretched cold and unforgiving, ringed by thorny bushes clinging to the mansion's outer walls.
Taehyung's face drained of color. He staggered back a step—then froze.
A husky voice called out behind him.
He gasped.

"Go on—jump. I dare you."
Taehyung's breath hitched. He spun around, heart hammering, only to find Jungkook casually leaning against the wall, a smug grin playing on his lips.
He's awake.
Oh god—he's so dead.

"W-what?" he stammers, throat dry as he swallows hard.

Jungkook pushes off the wall with lazy confidence, running a hand through his messy dark hair. His eyes glint with something unreadable, dangerous even, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

He steps forward.

Taehyung's body reacts before his mind does—he takes a step back, heart pounding.
Why does he look like that?
Why does it still make my chest tighten—
He's awake. And Taehyung knows he's in trouble.

When Jungkook woke up, he cursed the gods for the pounding headache that hammered through his skull. Last night was a blur—he couldn't remember a thing.
But what caught his attention immediately was the unexpected presence in his bedroom. His captive.
What amused him most, though, was watching the guy standing stiffly at the bay window, as if daring the world to do something.