The elevator doors slide open. You can barely remember how you ended up in this metal box, but it doesn't really matter. The exhaustion, the medication, the confusion of these new experiences—it all makes you more pliable. You nearly trip over your own feet as Jungkook grabs you by the wrist and pulls you out. His face is as beautiful as it is unreadable. If you hadn't gotten to know him, you'd think he was nervous. You wonder if you know him well enough to say for sure that he isn't.

You walk down a long corridor together. The floor is covered in a deep red carpet, the walls painted to match. Everything is shrouded in shadow. Black doors tower one after another, each bearing a number in silver script.

Jungkook stops in front of one of them and pulls out a keycard. He presses it to the reader and, with a soft beep, the lock disengages, allowing the door to swing open. He enters first, but the moment you step inside, the breath catches in your throat.

In front of you is a bed. And behind it, a wall adorned with objects you’ve only ever seen in a movie's torture chamber.

Chains, ropes, whips, blindfolds, handcuffs… Dildos of every shape and size, some double-ended, others with shapes far from human, like massive octopus tentacles complete with suction cups. You let out a nervous squeak. Jungkook, on the other hand, is perfectly calm—completely at ease among all these strange objects.

You don't wait for an invitation. Not wanting to test his patience, you make your way to the bed and sit on the edge of the mattress. Jungkook shrugs off his shirt, his scar-littered chest gleams in the room's dim light. Who knows what stories those scars hide... you wonder if you'll ever have the honor of finding out. Of knowing him so well you could list them from memory, just by tracing them with your fingertips.

The thought flickers through your mind just as a wave of dizziness makes reality flash before your eyes. You can't collapse. You can't even allow yourself to sleep. You clench your fists just as Jungkook’s hot hand cups your face. "What's wrong?" he asks. But telling him the truth is out of the question.

"Nothing," you murmur. He studies your face for a moment, then pushes you back against the mattress, his hands beginning to roam over your body. He lifts your red dress, sliding it off completely. In moments, he's gotten rid of the little that was left underneath. You can't tell from his gaze whether he likes what he sees or not. All you know is that the next moment, his mouth is licking the skin around your navel, and it's enough to make you jolt.

When his mouth travels lower, you feel like you're going to lose your mind. Jungkook is biting your inner thigh when he lifts his head, a half-smirk playing on his lips. "You're so sensitive... and you're soaking wet," he notes a moment later. His fingers brush against your damp core, and you shudder. The thought that this place, unexplored for years, now belongs to Jungkook makes you feel impure... and the worst part is, it's not unpleasant at all. "Do you think you deserve this?" he murmurs then. The question catches you off guard, and your eyes go wide. What does he mean?

"I..." You tremble, the single syllable barely leaving your lips.

"Do you think you deserve this?" he repeats. His voice is low and raspy, scratching against the back of his throat. It's enough to make you feel small and defenseless under his gaze. Though he's repeated the question, he doesn't wait for an answer—he seems to have understood perfectly that you're unable to give one, that your mind is too on fire to form a coherent sentence. And the situation worsens drastically when his tongue begins to move slowly against your wet core, sending a shiver down your spine that makes you arch your back instantly. "Ah-!" Your moan echoes in the room. Jungkook plays with his tongue against an incredibly sensitive spot, driving you to the edge of madness. He licks and prods, teasing the small nub of flesh before sliding lower, penetrating your entrance with his firm tongue. The orgasm that hits you is so intense it makes you scream. So intense it steals your breath.

You're completely lost. For several long seconds, you're lost. There is only the pleasure, pulling you into its vortex, so sweet and overwhelming it disorients you. The darkness is so deep you feel like you're floating on a cloud. Maybe it’s even too intense. Something at the back of your mind tenses and then releases. When you open your eyes again, the club is gone. Sunlight streams into Jungkook’s living room, and you're lying on his sofa, covered by a throw blanket.

You sit up with a jolt. Bad idea. A wave of dizziness and nausea washes over you, and you have to press a hand to your mouth and take a deep breath to fight back the urge to be sick.

Jungkook hasn't noticed you're awake. Standing near the kitchen, he seems to be preparing something. You clear your throat before speaking. It feels dry and sore, but you're probably just dehydrated. "What am I doing here?" you ask.

Jungkook turns slowly to look at you. You notice he's only wearing a pair of long, grey sweatpants. His bare heels are cool against the polished marble floor, but it's the beauty of his muscular back that catches your eye. The tattoos kiss his skin like the brushstrokes of a master painter. His dark hair frames that perfect, lethal face you should be used to by now, but which still manages to surprise you.

He's holding a ladle. In front of him, a pot is steaming, and you realize the room is filled with the smell of soup. The spices you can make out remind you of the hot, spicy broth your grandmother used to make when you were sick as a child.

You notice you’re wearing something large and soft. After a moment, you realize it's one of Jungkook's sweatshirts—a pullover with a large hood. You're swimming in it; your body seems even smaller in the oversized garment.

"What are we doing here?" you ask again, your voice faint.

"You passed out," Jungkook says. His tone gives nothing away; it's hard to tell what's going through his mind. He doesn't seem particularly worried, though. You're relieved. You're convinced the less he knows about your condition, the better.

You look down. It’s clear you feel guilty. You have very specific duties and responsibilities towards Jungkook, and not being able to fulfill them makes you feel inadequate, as if you're violating some crucial clause of your contract... which, in a way, you are.

"I'm sorry," you say. You don't know why you're apologizing... the spell was completely out of your control. There was no way to prevent it. The pills, the sudden call, and all that… physical activity had pushed your body past its limit. You blush at the thought. "I'm causing you a lot of trouble," you murmur.

"You are," Jungkook confirms. You're surprised by his honesty. Usually, at this point, people lie and insist it's no bother, adding things like, "Don't worry about it, just get some rest!" But Jungkook seems to have no intention of saying anything of the sort. Instead, he grabs the ladle and fills a mug with soup. You watch his gestures, captivated by his every move.

Then, he walks over to you. He sets the mug on the coffee table and reaches a hand toward your face. For a moment you flinch, fearing who-knows-what, but when his hand rests on your forehead, you hold your breath. "You're cold. Freezing. Drink the soup," he orders, and you detect a hint of care in his command that fills your chest with a strange warmth.

You know you shouldn't get your hopes up, that you shouldn't be making up stories in your head… and yet it’s sweet to imagine, even just for pretend, that there's someone in this world who genuinely wants to help you. You know that person will never be Jungkook... but right now, just for a moment, you want to pretend that isn't true.

"Thank you," you say, before starting to sip the soup. It's spicy but delicious. You had no idea Jungkook could cook. "This is really good."

Jungkook doesn't respond to the compliment. He moves away as if he's afraid of something... or perhaps annoyed. He goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up. "You can't stay here," he says abruptly, a stark contrast to his actions just moments before. "Get yourself together and go home."

"Yes," you say immediately, like a soldier responding to their captain. You start drinking the soup faster and burn your tongue.

"Without choking on it…" he adds, noticing your struggle.

That makes you blush a little… You wonder how clumsy and foolish you must seem to him. You're hardly a seductive, experienced woman; even though you're an adult, in some ways you're still too much like a young girl. "Yes…" you repeat, starting to sip the soup more slowly.

Your heart begins to beat faster in your chest…
And yet… you couldn't say why.