constriction

by hedonistae

Summary:

Jeon Jungkook has taken a liking to his 24th psychiatrist.

Chapter 1

 

They were trying something new, he was told.

Taehyung felt like cattle, standing in a line with other four men rooted in their silence and apprehension. The air was thick with tension, and Taehyung had a slight sensation that the situation was far more dangerous than what his nervous system was letting him be aware of.

They were all behind the glass, where the victim comes to identify the perpetrator in police stations—but the one about to come to collect one of the professionals like a prize was no victim. At all.

Half a dozen booted feet entered the vicinity in a ballad of big egos and sexism oozing from their skin, and right in the middle there was the one Taehyung was supposed to truly be afraid of.

Taehyung couldn't see much of him, hidden behind a straitjacket, a restraint mask and the row of armed guards. The ones who didn’t have their hands latched onto his shoulders, pushing him forward, had it trained on their waists, ready to whip out a gun at any minor inconvenience the man might cause.

Taehyung had seen many bizarre things in his career so far, but the sight of a man so young and seemingly ordinary being escorted in this manner made his blood run cold.

What horrors could he have committed to be treated like this, worse than a rabid animal?

"You have ten minutes." One of the guards directed at the prisoner and gave him a hard shove. He remained steady on his feet, wavering a bit but strong enough to be as rigid as a door, made of a trunk so old and imposing it’d be impossible to break.

He had a posture that reeked of confidence. He didn't cast his eyes downward at no point, and his feet stayed firmly planted, aligned with his shoulders, taking as much space as he possibly could in that state.

Suitor of a demanding aura, he was impossible to ignore. His calm breathing and relaxed muscles hinted that he knew something the others didn’t. It was in the way he looked down at everybody else.

Taehyung cursed his trained eyes for having noticed this.

"Ten minutes, Jungkook."

Jungkook.

"That won't be necessary," Jungkook drawled out, his voice sweeter than expected, eyes glued directly to Taehyung.

Pitch black like tar, unwavering, cold, unashamed.

Taehyung felt like throwing up.

"I want him."

"Especify, Jungkook."

"Fourth from the left to the right." 

Taehyung was sure he could see a smirk from behind that hideous mask, translucent but filled with holes so Jungkook wouldn't suffocate. Hideous, really, the whole way he was wrapped up in thick layers, causing an immense terror deep down Taehyung's guts.

He looked to the side, trying to calm his breathing.

Types like these, they sniff fear like sharks sniffing blood in the depths of the ocean, even from several kilometers away. One wrong step, and he would be done for.

"Step ahead, Dr. Kim."

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first session didn't go much beyond what Taehyung had expected.

Jungkook remained silent, eyes unblinking for several minutes at a time, limbs still restrained in the straitjacket and character still stripped of any semblance of dignity by the mask. Taehyung wondered if the straps around his head caused a dent to his spotless skin, but he shook the thought away.

They spent the entire 45 minutes of the session in silence, and Taehyung refused to be the first one to speak.

Despite his bile threatening to rise, Taehyung remained composed, hands steady on the clipboard, slender fingers holding the pen, not a single doodle drawn. He wouldn't hand out to Jungkook any information, silly or sensitive, for his brain to absorb.

When Jungkook listened to jingling keys approaching the metal door at the end of the session, he opened a wide smile. It grew sleazy, until it reached its hinges.

Then, bubbles of laughter burst out, buildup becoming grand like the end of an orchestral piece.

His eyes were wide, almost jumping from his sockets, and his lips stretched until there was only madness to take from his expression, as his voice echoed off all surfaces of the sterile room, coming at Taehyung from all directions.

The psychiatrist subtly leaned back, irrationally recoiling from the outburst even behind the protection of an acrylic shield separating the white table in two.

Jungkook's empty, ruthless eyes followed him all the way back to his car, and then his house, and then his bedroom, haunting him in his dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the third session of pure silence, Taehyung decided to change his approach. He took a deep breath before opening his mouth to shift their entire dynamic in one go.

"Do you have any requests, Jungkook? I may be able to attend your wishes." His voice was calm and composed, with the clinical inflection he used with all his patients.

Jungkook hadn't said a word since the first day, so anything Taehyung could get out of him would be useful.

But there was only silence.

"Anything. Would you like to take your mask off? I can arrange that for you."

Jungkook shifted in his seat. Good, that was good.

"The jacket, too? If you will."

"You're lying to me."

Taehyung was so happy to hear his voice he was stunned for a moment. "I don't lie, Jungkook."

He leaned in further, placing all his faith in the acrylic piece separating them. As if Jungkook couldn't simply bypass the table to reach Taehyung if he wanted. "If there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I'll never lie to you."

Jungkook seemed to be listening intently, and that was something.

"You're not a child, so I won't treat you like one."

Jungkook's jaw flexed.

"So? Do you want them off?"

Taehyung felt like he had the upper hand, and that was dangerous. Taehyung had as much power as Jungkook allowed him to think he had.

"Yeah, I want them off."

Taehyung smiled, seeing no reason to hide it if Jungkook could read him so easily.

Despite the difference in background and learning methods, they were two highly functioning individuals that were more capable of reading other people than the grand mass of the average.

And they were too close to each other to be able to mask.

"Next session, you'll be handed over to me without the dog muzzle and straitjacket," he noted down on the clipboard, and Jungkook snorted. His attentive eyes followed Taehyung's cursive handwriting staining the paper. "Doctor's orders." Taehyung finished, then he winked.

He didn't know where that came from, but it put Jungkook at ease. There were no more hard-set jaws or mean stares aimed at him. The patient looked normal, open, even.

Taehyung was making peace with the fact that his methods were about to become unconventional, but who the hell would hold it against him? Those who had failed Jungkook previously?

This was no ordinary patient.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next time Jungkook met him, Taehyung stood up upon his entrance. Jungkook stopped in his tracks, and the guard didn't even glance at them, eager to return to his soccer match on his tiny television.

Taehyung had noticed the device on his desk at the end of the hall when he arrived earlier.

Jungkook looked up, and Taehyung held his breath.

This was no ordinary patient indeed.

Jungkook was dangerously handsome.

Taehyung wondered if this had helped him commit all the crimes he was accused of, deceiving judgements left and right.

Taehyung knew he had multiple life sentences, stacked one on top of the other, but guided by his methods, he chose not to know what Jungkook had exactly done, otherwise he'd be biased.

The guard and his jiggling keys moved away, moving towards the end of the hallway, as if he had become careless about the high level of risk the visitor was facing.

Taehyung offered Jungkook his hand.

Jungkook looked down and then back up at his face, and Taehyung was sure Jungkook was bored out of his mind, entertaining yet another stupid psychiatrist lined up for him to grind and crush to smithereens.

So he shook his hand.

The state forced Jungkook to continue seeing a licensed doctor even though all the professionals in the province and the surrounding areas had given up. 

The law protected him. And Jungkook would break the spirit of every single one of those who dared to try. None made him cooperate, and Jungkook traumatized them profusely, mentally and even physically.

Up close, Jungkook and Taehyung were the same height, but had such different builds Taehyung couldn't help but accept how prey-ish he looked. If he used it to his favor, would it help?

Jungkook's handshake was strong like him, and his hand was cold, though not colder than Taehyung's.

"Good afternoon, Jungkook. How have you been?" Taehyung settled back into his chair, and Jungkook sat as well. He displayed a slightly suspicious look, and Taehyung couldn't help but notice his boyish features, as if he were too young to be in a place like this.

He had an innocent aura that was dangerous to fall prey on, especially the way his lips pouted and his wide eyes blinked at him. Without the mask, he looked like a completely different person.

He was dressed in a plain uniform, the same worn by all the other inmates. The loose neck shirt showcased rippled muscles and Taehyung averted the gaze to focus on the table instead.

"Is this allowed?" Jungkook started.

Taehyung blinked at him. "The handshake?"

"Yes."

"Of course I’m gonna give you a handshake, Jungkook, you’re not an animal."

"What if I kill you?"

A flash of madness swirled in the pitch black of his eyes. 

"Then I die." Taehyung played along, smiling.

Jungkook stared at him, narrowing his eyes. "Is this some cheap manipulation tactic you're pulling on me?"

"Do you think you're being manipulated?" Taehyung placed the pen on top of the clipboard paper, and Jungkook followed it with the same pair of unpredictable eyes.

"No."

"There's your answer." He tapped the pen's tip on the paper, watching Jungkook observe the ink stain where it was once white, turning it into a mess of blue. "Are you feeling better?"

"Better?" He didn't take his eyes off the blue spots growing in number.

"Your requests were met, after all."

"Ah." Jungkook looked up and smiled, the gotcha moment. Taehyung didn't want him to get anything, but it wasn’t worth trying to outsmart him. "Now that you've conceded something to me, I'm supposed to concede something to you." 

"You don't have to concede anything to me, Jungkook." He looked down at his watch. "I have all the time in the world. And I'll still get paid even if we go nowhere with this."

He let his feisty side show, professional composure slipping through his fingers. 

"Oh yeah?" Jungkook crossed his arms.

"Unless you kill me, I'll keep coming back to you. You won’t get rid of me. So. Shall we cooperate with each other?"

Jungkook’s countenance remained stoic for a second and in the next he was all big smiles and defeated shake of shoulders. "Sneaky motherfucker."

Taehyung smiled too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"How's work?" Seojoon approached from behind and placed his hands on Taehyung's shoulders, leaving a kiss on his temple.

Taehyung had been glued to his desk all afternoon and would likely remain there all night, his face buried in stacks of sensible information.

"Intriguing."

"Aren't you hungry, my love?"

Taehyung hummed as he enjoyed the closeness, sinking back into the embrace as Seojoon draped an arm around him and littered kisses on the side of his head.

Taehyung liked how Seojoon took care of him. There were no butterfly wings fluttering all the way up from his stomach, but there was safety. Something Taehyung knew he should want more than anything else.

"I'm good, seriously. If I get any cravings, I'll heat something up later."

"Okay. I'm going to my sister’s with some soup for a movie night."

Taehyung nodded and smiled, and when Seojoon left his study, his focus returned entirely to Jungkook's case, strewn in scrawled papers and notes that Taehyung hastily scribbled in his car after each session so as not to forget any detail.

Of course, he took notes; he just didn't do it in front of Jungkook. There was too much to unpack and much to test out, and he could feel his sanity slipping away as his obsession grew stronger.

His other appointments held in the clinic he worked at were conducted robotically, and Taehyung couldn't help but feel guilty when his mind remained tied to Jungkook related thoughts… and nothing else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You're wearing perfume, why?" was the first thing Jungkook said to him the moment they sat across from each other. 

Taehyung's heart picked up in pace. He noticed. "Because I wanted to."

"But why? You didn't wear it before."

"Do you like it?"

Jungkook clenched his jaw. 

"Or do you not? I can stop it if it’s not to your liki—"

"Don't stop it."

Taehyung swallowed. "Okay." He smiled.

He took a sheet of paper from the clipboard and calmly folded into an airplane, folding edges again and again on the table, deft fingers moving under the magic spell of muscle memory.

"Can I smell it up close?"

Taehyung froze. 

"No? I knew you'd be boring like the others." 

Taehyung's cheeks burned and there was nothing he could do to conceal it. He felt too vulnerable.

Indulge him, his mind whispered in betrayal.

"You c-you can come."

Jungkook's attentive eyes spotted his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He got up slowly, as if to not startle Taehyung, and then he placed a hand on the back of his chair and the other on the table, caging him.

He gripped the chair with a strong arm and turned it to him as if it was nothing. The loud screech against the floor caused Taehyung to flinch and Jungkook approached him with a hunger never seen before.

There was no boyish innocence in the way his eyes darkened and his eyebrows furrowed.

He took a sharp intake of air when the tip of his nose met Taehyung's jugular. He inhaled it for a long time, as if his lungs were made of steel.

He exhaled it all back and Taehyung shifted in his seat, expecting Jungkook to back it off, but the other brought the chair even closer, nothing discrete in the metal scream and his aggressive stance, as if he had lost control of his senses. 

Taehyung flinched again, now actually scared of his explosive demeanor.

Jungkook nestled his nose deeper against Taehyung's neck, right in the junction meeting his jaw, and then growled like a beast about to have a feast.

So indecent, so vulgar. So intrusive. 

Involuntary goosebumps blossomed all over Taehyung's skin, tainting his self-respect.

He bunched up his hands in fists, having forgotten that in front of him stands an actual convicted criminal capable of the most gruesome ways of torture.

And he was glued right against his throat.

Jungkook hummed in pleasure, exhaling again. Taehyung's wide eyes and stuttered breath were the vision Jungkook had as he took a step back, and then he returned to his seat and stretched out his limbs. "You smell delicious. Thank you." A big, satisfied smile adorned his face.

The psychiatrist avoided eye contact until the guard came back to collect Jungkook.

There wasn’t any matter being discussed anymore. 

Later, in his car, Taehyung didn't write anything down. He kept staring out of the windshield, hands tight around the steering wheel. It took much longer for him to start the car and go home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He caught himself smelling different swatches of perfume in a beauty store, waiting for Seojoon to buy their movie tickets. He brought several of them home, tiny little vials of diverse taste. He hid them deep down in a drawer in his office.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He offered his throat to Jungkook again and again, showing off a different scent each time, and then asking for his opinion. Jungkook didn't like the florals much, preferred the earthy ones, but didn't oppose to vanilla, surprisingly.

Taehyung wasn't left petrified anymore, and Jungkook started telling him all about how his tedious days had been. 

Taehyung felt sick to his stomach each time he sensed a pull towards the criminal, drawing him closer, as if a thread were tugging him like a fish on a hook and he had no means to escape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a rainy day, and the star scent was eucalyptus.

"You know a lot of them, don’t you?"

Taehyung looked up from his origami dove. Jungkook had those huge eyes trained on him, glinting, curious.

"Yeah, since I was a kid."

"You didn’t have any friends growing up?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Taehyung paused. How should he pose himself to Jungkook? The idea of a poor isolated boy that never had friends had some appeal to his God complex?

Jungkook smiled. Tilted his head to the side, patronizing. 

He likes that he pities me, he thought. Does he miss feeling powerful? 

 

 

 

 

Amber made him talk more than any other scent. In fact, he seemed distracted for the first half of the session, restless and trying to get closer to Taehyung as if the psychiatrist wouldn’t notice, and Taehyung thought that was as lame as it was adorable, until he remembers who he was dealing with and his face closed off.

Jungkook kept bringing his chair closer to him, and Taehyung was sure he was going to trespass the acrylic.

"Do you wanna know something creepy?"

"I’d love to."

"I have superpowers."

Taehyung sat back against his chair and scribbled down a rabbit and a flower in his clipboard. "Which ones?"

"I’m being serious."

"Me too."

They locked glares and Taehyung held it in their silent battle. He wasn’t willing to back off in such a critical moment.

"That’s how I killed all those people."

Taehyung licked his lips. Pen posed against paper. "Tell me what happened."

"An orphanage. I exploded everything."

"Why?"

"They were mean to me." He shrugged. And then he said nothing more.

Taehyung wasn’t going to fill the silence. It was Jungkook’s turn to spill. 

His shoes tapped the floor. He looked around. Remembered the little airplane Taehyung had made for him. Got up and picked it up. 

"How far do you think this thing goes?"

"Pretty far."

"Have you tried it out in the open?"

"Many times."

"And?"

"It was pretty awesome every time." He smiled. Jungkook seemed content with that. And Taehyung didn’t earn anything else from him on that day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taehyung threw his signature discretion to hell. There was one late night where he couldn’t sleep and that’s when he searched up all about Jeon Jungkook on the internet.

And there was nothing. 

Nothing. 

Not a single newspaper report, not a single commentary in any social media. Not even in the deep throes of forums toeing the line of the deep web.

It was as if Jungkook didn’t even exist. 

Something icy cold sank to the bottom of his stomach. What exactly did he get into? Would he even be granted information if he asked for it to the facility personnel? Did they spare him for his own sake? Was he getting neurotic?

His mind stayed awake with dreadful possibilities until the rays of light barged in and birds started chirping again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taehyung set on a powdery perfume. The most powdery and innocent-smelling like he could find.

"Tell me what you can do with your powers."

It was cold. Taehyung was layered in wool and knitwear. Jungkook had a gray jumper and sweatpants on. Taehyung was trying not to stare.

"I can burn things. Boil things. People. Change things from place without touching them." He looked up at the ceiling, as if he had forgotten half of it. "I can cause pain without touching anyone."

A chill ran down Taehyung’s spine. It was terrifying to see him treating the topic as if it was true. 

"I see. And you choose not to use it? Here?"

"I need to feel strong emotions to activate them."

"I see. You’ve been very apathetic since we met."

"I’ve been apathetic for a long time."

"I see."

Taehyung couldn’t help but feel bad, but that was something at least—a hint. He prescribed him Prozac starting at a lower dose, and hoped for the best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was called up to the facility at 4 a.m. Disheveled, he threw an overcoat on and rushed to his car, nearly crashing it twice on the way to the facility. When he got there, he was told Jungkook was in the infirmary.

"He had a seizure," the nurse said.

Taehyung creased his brows. Jungkook was sitting on the narrow bed, handcuffed to the metal railing.

Taehyung trembled because it was cold, but also out of fear, wondering if the Prozac did it, and why.

Jungkook didn’t react when Taehyung approached him, not even when he was being talked to.

Taehyung refused to touch him or force him to do anything. He simply turned on his back and left him there to be under observation, and later on, to be led to his solitary cell.

The entire situation left such a bitter taste in Taehyung's mouth that he took a sharp turn on his way home and got into a drive-thru.

He ordered three flavors of milkshake and drained all of them in the parking lot, alone with the crickets and the moths under the lamppost, feeling guilty and cold as fuck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seojoon brought him to the facility one day. He claimed Taehyung was too sleepy to drive on his own.

Taehyung was not too sleepy to forget the perfume, though.

He sneakily applied it as his husband took the car out of the garage and hoped for the best.

He didn't want to think too much, so he chose the one heavy on amber again.

He had been pulling all-nighters in his office since the Prozac incident.

"Tell me, Dr. Kim, am I a lost cause?"

If there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I'll never lie to you.

"What do you consider a lost cause?"

Jungkook scoffed. 

"Tell me."

"Not being able to be a good person… again." His eyes seemed lost. Taehyung let the reflection linger in his mind. Then Jungkook aimed those huge innocent-looking eyes at him. "Do you think I can be a good person?"

"I think you can, yes."

"Can you help me?"

"Help you? To be a good person?l

"Yeah." He brushed the palms of his hands on his pants, restless.

What was Taehyung supposed to say? That he has like thirty life sentences for what he heard, that he’ll never make it out of here, and maybe it’s not the best idea to turn soft in prison?

"Of course, Jungkook."

Jungkook hummed. Taehyung was getting used to those peaceful silences that they had been having together.

“I didn’t know you were married.”

Taehyung’s heart stopped.

He never even hinted at it. Never talked about it. No one in the facility had information about his personal life. He never wore his wedding band inside. Metal doesn’t get through the gates. He swallowed. 

"I am."

"Do you love him?"

Him.

"Of course I love him. He’s my husband."

"Some people don’t love their husbands."

"Well, I do love mine, yes." Taehyung averted his inquisitive eyes. He swallowed again. He wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully if he didn’t confront him, even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Jungkook, how do you know this?"

"I saw it."

"Saw what?" It was cruel, the way his heart pounded in his chest. His mouth became dry.

"Calm down," Jungkook snickered. "I saw it through the hole in the wall that nobody cares to notice in my cell. Old air conditioner tubing and whatnot."

"That’s… And you saw what, exactly?"

"Him dropping you off. And a kiss." His lips pressed together, forming a straight line.

"How far can you see through the parking lot?"

"Far." He shrugged.

Was he being observed all this time?

Taehyung suddenly felt nauseous.

He was preparing himself for any mockery to come, but Jungkook’s face was sour instead.

Taehyung couldn’t understand why, or maybe he did and didn’t want to deal with it.

Jungkook offered his hand by the end of the session, and Taehyung, numb and weathered down, accepted it.

When skin met skin, a spark of electricity hit him like a violent shock.

It traveled through the entire length of his arm, his shoulder, his chest, and it dangerously threatened the good health of his heart. It hurt like a whip cutting through flesh. He ripped his hand away and searched for Jungkook’s eyes.

That certainly wasn’t a product of hallucination or his sleep deprivation.

Jungkook opened up a lazy smirk and started stretching his joints, neck, and rolling back his shoulders. He was lost in his own delight. "Ah, yes… It’s coming back."

 

 

Chapter 2

Now, Taehyung parks two blocks before the facility.

The brutalist nightmare can still be seen from there, and Taehyung doesn’t think it helps put his mind at ease at all. But it is what it is.

If Jungkook is watching him even from there, is there a real limit, or only an illusion?

He gets full body chills as he walks up to the guarded gates, and something feels off.

It takes longer for someone to come and allow him entry, and the moment he steps inside, he hears agonized screams, as if the walls are holding torture within them.

His slow steps echo around, and his heartbeat goes up drastically. He looks back at the guard accompanying him, and the man is clueless as a rock. 

Taehyung halts. “Do you hear that?”

It’s loud and clear. Impossible to ignore.

“Hear what?” the man questions.

The walls close in on Taehyung. His vision blurs, and for a split second, he loses balance.

Suddenly, he’s bracing himself against one of the concrete walls in the corridor.

He situates himself, and as he looks around, he notices the guard is gone.

The agonizing screams grow louder and louder, and bile rises up to Taehyung’s throat.

Jungkook.

He runs toward the sound, and it’s with dreadful realization that he finds out the closer he gets to Jungkook’s level, the closer the sounds are.

Are they torturing him? Punishing him?

He runs until his bag falls from his shoulder, scattering papers behind him, sheets full of classified information flying around like dry leaves from a tree.

Taehyung runs as fast as he can as he climbs up stairs and almost misses the right entries, going and coming back inside the labyrinth, cussing out any engineer who might’ve idealized it.

He’s out of breath and wide eyed when he gets to the corridor that leads to the interrogation room, a much familiar place by now.

At the very end of it, there’s a guard fallen to the floor, and there’s a bloody trail coming slowly. Taehyung follows with his eyes and flinches, because it’s reaching his shoes. 

He contours the blood and tiptoes to the heavy iron door he’s supposed to enter, which is ajar.

The screams have subsided, as if the subject of the torture doesn’t hold vital energy anymore. 

There’s hard breathing and choking, as if they gave up on survival, humanity breaking down while awaiting for mercy.

Taehyung peeps inside the room and gasps.

A head whips up to him.

Jungkook is there, on his feet, and he’s smiling.

“Dr. Kim, how are you?”

There’s a guard gasping for air, sitting on the chair, reaching for his own throat even though there’s nothing squeezing it.

One of Jungkook’s hands is hidden away behind his back. 

Taehyung’s blood drains from his face, and Jungkook murmurs, meek as a dove, “Come in.”

Taehyung takes a step further, and then another, and then another. Because what else would he ever do rather than follow Jungkook’s words? Isn’t that why he was led here in the first place?

There’s another guard fallen against the opposite wall, as if he was thrown there by sheer force. 

He blinks again and again, adjusting his sight to an unimaginable amount of blood. There are more and more red spots as his mind works under the adrenaline.

There’s blood smeared on the walls as if claws tried to dig their way out of this place. Blood on the table, pooled and congealing. Blood where Taehyung takes a miscalculated step and his foot ends up right on it. Blood on Jungkook’s uniform.

“I missed you. How are you doing?” Jungkook starts, like he’s a normal person living a normal life, and then he shoves his other hand inside his pocket.

The guard who was being asphyxiated falls to the floor with a loud thud and passes out.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung’s voice trembles. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, this?” He looks around. “I’m just testing out some stuff.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung’s vision blurs again, and he has no option but to steady himself on the table, his hands soaking on the cold blood of someone who’s no longer alive. “I… I’m gonna pass out.”

“I’ll hold you,” Jungkook smirks.

“Why are you doing this?” he pleads with Jungkook, eyes wide and begging, as if he is to receive any logical answer.

“I told you already! Ah, forget it, you’re no fun.”

“Is this—were they punishing you? For some reason? Is that why you did this to them?”

“No, they’re boring.” He takes a deep breath and stalks closer to the psychiatrist. “You smell so good.”

“I didn’t put on perfume today.”

How he picks up Taehyung’s scent among all the iron in the scarlet is beyond him. 

“I know. It’s your natural scent I’m talking about. I like it raw.”

Taehyung takes a deep breath and hates that he’s affected by it. He steadies himself, but still feels so weak. “You can smell that?”

“I can smell a lot of things. And the blood everywhere is pissing me off already. But it looks alternative, right?”

“What?!” He’s still so dizzy.

“The décor. I’m leaning into abstract painting.” His eyes crinkle as he says this, and Taehyung watches Jungkook admire his own work with a proud stance. 

He looks like someone who has no burden on his shoulders whatsoever. Big, strong, smart, composed. Doesn’t look any bit deranged.

Taehyung can’t wrap his head around any of this. His mind is screaming at him to run, run fast, but he’s frozen on the spot.

Jungkook notices the hesitation when he steps closer and Taehyung trips back.

“Hey.”

“No.” Taehyung shakes his head and meets the wall with his hands, blood of another victim being smeared on the stale concrete. “Stay away f-from me.”

“Taehyung! It was a joke!” Jungkook whines, as if he’s defending an innocent prank.

When Taehyung’s body understands that Jungkook isn’t going to kill him in a fit of rage, he bolts. If he’s up to talking and smiling, maybe he’d be merciful to him.

His feet take him as far as his long legs can carry him, as far as his heart can take before bursting and failing him. Poor thing he doesn’t notice he can’t even run into a straight line. 

He collides against one wall and then another, stopping himself with his hands before he heads face first into them. He almost trips down the stairs as he hears Jungkook’s voice echoing from upstairs: “Taehyung, I think you forgot something!”

He runs and he runs until he’s past the gates and past the parking lot, the other side of the street and the next block. His lips tremble in fear as he spots his car, still parked where he left it.

He reaches for the door handle and it doesn’t give way, until he remembers he dropped his bag, and consequently his keys, his notes, his phone, everything.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He throws a fist against the hood of the car, and the alarm goes off. He squats down and hides his head between his arms.

“I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die.” He mumbles like a child, defeated.

He schools his breathing and blinks away tears he hadn’t felt stinging his eyes but now they're flowing freely.

His ears pick out steps, soft and rhythmic steps of someone who’s not in a hurry.

He squints his eyes closed, sure of who’s approaching him, sure that this is his end. He hopes it’s not going to hurt.

He accepts his fate, just like the tortured guard in the interrogation room.

“Doctor Kim, are you okay?”

A hand touches his back and he flinches, gasps. Jungkook trails his hand slowly up to his nape, caging him possessively, as a thumb is rubbing circled against his jugular. 

“Calm down.” Jungkook smiles. “You forgot something. How are you going home without it, hm?”

There’s jingling of keys.

“Hey,” he whispers, and Taehyung has no option but to lift his head to stare at Jungkook, the convicted criminal and deranged man whom Taehyung has come to be quite obsessed with.

He thought it was a strength, something that would help his practice, a bigger interest in the case meant reaching higher levels of understanding. He thought. 

It rips his heart apart the moment he’s met with Jungkook’s huge doe eyes, which sparkle even on a gloomy day. 

How disgusting it is that Taehyung likes to stare at them until he loses his mind over it, until it haunts him in his daydreams and his nightmares.

Jungkook lifts a hand, and Taehyung’s car keys dance in front of his face. “I think this belongs to you.”

Taehyung doesn’t know if it’s safe to reach for them.

“I don’t bite.” Jungkook tilts his head, chuckling.

Taehyung gets in motion, slowly reaching for them. There’s still blood on his hands, but now just stained blotches rather than a wet nightmare, but still disturbing.

His keys end up in his trembling hands. 

Jungkook comes closer, and Taehyung furrows his brows in surrender, able to let the other get away with anything he wants. Able to forgive anything he does. Because what does it matter if everyone’s gonna die in the end?

Jungkook lands a soft kiss on his tear streaked cheek, the same time that his hand squeezes his nape a bit more.

Taehyung's heart stops with the contact, but then his lips are gone and his hands are gone, and now his body is cold and trembling.

He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or relieved.

Jungkook gets up as if he didn’t cause a killing spree two blocks away and his clothes aren’t stained with innocent men’s blood.

His wild hair falls around his eyes and he sighs, content, patting away invisible dust from his knees and chest.

Taehyung watches his back until he’s out of sight. Unblinking, just to be sure.

He’s supposed to call the police, to announce to any authority that the most dangerous convicted criminal is on the loose.

He’s supposed to scream at the top of his lungs that the world is not safe anymore, and that humanity should await its imminent destruction very soon.

But his body doesn’t move, and his voice doesn’t work. His mind is ecstatic.

He drops the keys to the floor and scoops it up, presses the button to unlock the car, throws himself in and tries not to crash it against a tree.

The adrenaline high wears off and his chin trembles, faceless victims blaring on his mind every time he blinks.

He gets on a highway without intending to. He reaches another district, gets lost and ignores the GPS. The night falls, and Taehyung survived the last hour. So he tries to survive the next.

He stops on the side of the road and hurls, letting out his lunch and breakfast. He vomits until there’s nothing left and then he loses equilibrium, falls onto all fours on the tarmac as cars pass by and someone honks. 

He’s weak and pathetic and scared, and his vision blurs again as everything becomes dark, and darker, until he’s blacked out like a light, passed out in the middle of nowhere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up to steady beats and a heavy sigh. His head hurts like a bitch, his ears are ringing, and he smells hand sanitizer in the air. There’s daylight again.

He realizes he’s in the hospital.

He lets his pupils adjust to the light and glances to the side. His muscles are sore.

“Babe,” he croaks. His husband looks exhausted when he perks up.

Seojoon lets out a deep, relieved sigh.

Taehyung reaches out a hand for him, and Seojoon gets up and holds it, face somber.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. I don’t know what happened.”

“They found you passed out on the side of the road. In a neighboring city.”

“Oh.” Dread slowly creeps into the cracks. 

“You went out for your appointment at the prison, and I didn’t hear from you after that.”

Taehyung looks to the other side. He’s sure something is connecting the incident to Jungkook; he just doesn’t know what. Yet.

“I think… I think you should quit.”

“No—” Taehyung winces, his head throbbing.

Seojoon’s face hardens with anger, frustration too. He shakes his head.

Taehyung’s lips tremble, his heart pounding furiously. He’s far too entangled in it to give up. Far too entangled with him.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispers.

Seojoon exhales slowly, defeated, looking miserable, and then he mumbles that he’s going back to the hospital canteen.

Taehyung is left alone with the beep of his heart monitor. A single tear rolls down his cheek.

He falls asleep shortly after that and jolts awake to Jungkook’s voice calling his name again and again, as if he’s lying right beside him.

The beeps get out of control. 

He needs to get out of here, needs to get out of this place. He yanks the IV drip from his arm and rolls off the bed. 

Seojoon is shouting for the nurse and pressing the button, but that doesn’t stop Taehyung. 

He’s at the end of the corridor, filled with dread and a panicked mind, a tunnel vision to escape and ringing ears, when a needle is jammed right into his neck and he’s out again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s discharged at sunset, but ordered to rest. When he’s back at home, laying on his side in their marital bed by himself as Seojoon cooks downstairs, his phone pings with a message. It’s the facility director. Taehyung picks up the phone and notices his phone case is missing.

[Goodnight, Doctor Kim! We’ve heard of the accident and hope you’re doing okay. If you don’t feel comfortable showing up to the next appointment, please let us know! We wish you a good recovery.]

Taehyung furrows his brows. He didn’t even go to the appointment?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next week comes and he’s out of his car, locking the door with dread following him like a bad cloud.

He walks slowly up to the gates, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t know why, but he’s hesitant to approach, which is the sane line of thought in the first place. No one wants to come here.

The guards greet him by the entrance and in the corridors. The place holds its gloom and depressive state as always. Everything is normal, just like it’s always been. 

He’s patted down thoroughly at two different checkpoints and realizes he forgot his bag on the passenger seat. He still can’t find his notes.

He sits in the usual chair in the interrogation room and waits impatiently for Jungkook to show up. He remembers the breathing exercise he teaches his patients at the clinic. 

Nothing he does to prepare himself helps when he’s met with those eyes.

They cut deep, and they don’t hesitate to slash Taehyung’s sanity in half for a couple of seconds.

“Dr. Kim.” He greets him, and then he pauses. “You look weird, what’s up?”

“I’m fine, Jungkook. How are you?”

“Can’t complain.” He sits down in the opposite chair and stretches his limbs, throwing his head back and making a show of someone mocking the whole situation.

Sometimes it looks like Jungkooks is on vacation, and not at a federal prison. 

Taehyung stares at the expanse of his neck, the bulge of muscles under his shirt sleeves. Then he blinks and studies the plain table. He displays his hands on top of it. His long fingers have no wedding band on them. Metal doesn’t get pass the gates.

“Doctor, you look exhausted. You missed the last appointment. Why don’t you open up to me?”

Something in Jungkook’s tone feels off.

He’s not actually worried, is he? He’s faking it.

He reaches for Taehyung’s hands, and Taehyung flinches hard, leaning away from him, before he even gets to touch him.

Was there ever a partition on this table? He can’t remember.

His mind blacked out for a split second, and he knows something is very wrong when he looks up again.

“What happened?” Jungkook’s pupils are dilating slowly, like a predator salivating at the sight of his prey.

Something in the corner of his mind is hinting that Jungkook has done something horrible to him, but he can’t prove it.

And it looks like Jungkook knows exactly what it is.

“What did you do, Jungkook?”

“What? What are you talking about?” The other smiles, and there it is, the face of someone who’s not trying hard enough to hide a secret.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

Jungkook can’t contain the way his lips curve into a big smile, the way his eyes glint with mirth. And Taehyung’s worries increase, a ticking time bomb right in front of him.

He can feel that something is wrong; call it intuition, observation, it doesn’t matter.

Jungkook doesn’t answer him. He gives space for the silence to come between them. Taehyung searches his eyes for admission, but nothing comes.

Jungkook gives nothing to him.

“Okay. You’re not gonna be frank with me? I can’t help you anymore, then.”

His breathing is getting louder and he’s starting to lose composure, which is not at all a good way to keep up appearances in front of a man who has nothing to lose.

“I’m gonna drop this case if you don’t help me help you.” His voice trembles.

Bullshit. They both know he won’t. It’s not about helping him anymore, is it? Maybe it hasn’t been for quite some time.

“I’m gonna leave. Now.”

They stare at each other, as if Taehyung is waiting for his permission. Jungkook’s smirk grows. Taehyung gets up then, slowly. Fatigued. Jaded. Jungkook is playing in his face, messing with his sanity, and Taehyung is done for today.

He walks to the door, reaches for the handle and suddenly, Jungkook slams both hands on the table, a loud sound reaching like a thunder on Taehyung’s ears. 

He freezes. He wonders if someone could save him in time.

Jungkook cages him against a wall, all over him now, both hands trapping him. It happens too fast. Taehyung could’ve never predicted such an outburst, but couldn’t he, really?

“You won’t go anywhere,” Jungkook grits out.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” Taehyung’s lips tremble as he looks up at scorching black eyes burning down at him.

Jungkook doesn’t answer but eyes him hungrily as if he’s his next meal.

His wide eyes might as well swallow him whole.

“You look so pretty when you’re scared.”

Taehyung doesn’t know why he’s suddenly aroused by that. He’s terrified; he wants to run, but he also wants to stay. His mind is short circuiting.

Jungkook doesn’t blink as he gets closer to his lips.

“Please J-Jungkook—”

Jungkook breathes him in, face stuffed against his neck.

What is Taehyung even asking for?

His heart slams in his chest; it might as well escape from his throat.

Jungkook closes the distance between their lips, and Taehyung feels like falling into a bottomless pit.

He grabs Jungkook by the shirt with both hands and is taken by surprise by his own actions. This isn’t him. Or is it? Is it who he truly is? Someone who’s able to let an assassin shove his tongue down his throat?

They kiss hungrily as Jungkook grabs his legs and hoists him up with terrifying force. His muscles bulge under his clothes, and Taehyung’s mind spins, lost in how Jungkook tastes and how he moves, how he holds him close as if Taehyung might vanish away forever. Seojoon never held him like that.

Taehyung chases after Jungkook’s tongue when the other tries to pull away, and that’s the moment Jungkook growls. There’s a bruising grip on the back of his head, and Taehyung moans when he realizes Jungkook is holding him up with one arm only.

His eyes roll to the back of his head, and the other sucks on his tongue, bites his lips, and lets the trail of his kisses lower to his chin and his neck until a purple mark is left on his shoulder where the fabric stretches away…

Territorial.

Jungkook’s crazed eyes take in the state of him as they breathe together, red cheeks and disheveled hair.

Jungkook brushes Taehyung’s hair off his forehead, and his knuckles brush against his chin, his cheekbone. Taehyung is uncomfortably hard in his pants.

“You’re my new source of energy.” He leaves an innocent peck on his lips as if he didn’t just unravel him completely. “Do you think I’d ever let you go?”

Taehyung’s mind is spiraling; he can feel it. But he doesn’t care, for some reason. He’s light as a feather as imminent chaos approaches him.

“You’re my muse. Can’t stop thinking about all the art I’m gonna dedicate to you.”

He lets go of Taehyung, carefully, but his knees are too weak and fail him on the spot.

Jungkook holds him by his waist, and Taehyung grabs his biceps as hard as he can. They feel like steel under his fingertips.

They don’t speak for a long time, ragged breaths overlapping one another as the only sound in the room. Taehyung feels like going at it again. Jungkook looks so beautiful with red cheeks and red lips. He’s so huge. So strong.

They still have time if Taehyung decided to bend down at the table and let Jungkook fuck and abuse his hole as he pleases. His hands tighten on his arms.

He can feel the waves of arousal coming from Jungkook and hitting on his skin. He gulps. Closes his eyes. Pulls Jungkook by the back of his hair and allows himself to have a slow kiss this time. He’s already burning, almost sweaty, and Jungkook’s lips feel familiar as if he’s known his way for all his life. 

He bucks his hips, holding back moans and shoves his tongue again inside Jungkook’s mouth. It’s not enough, he needs to get naked and go at it. Jungkook squeezes his bulge and Taehyung lets out a whine. Jungkook shushes him with his mouth and tongue and invades his spaces like it’s his nature to do so, and maybe it is.

His hand creeps inside Taehyung’s waistband and he can feel his warmth wrap around his hardened dick, already leaking. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling and Jungkook sucks on his tongue and thumbs at his slit.

Taehyung’s fingers dig against Jungkook’s shoulders and he hopes he leaves dents with his nails.

Jungkook slowly pumps him up and down as he studies his face, black pupils taking up all the space. Taehyung lets out a soft cry as Jungkook picks up the pace and sucks on his bottom lip. A single tear escapes Taehyung’s eyes as he’s nearing the climax, too soon but he can’t hold back.

Jungkook shoves his face against his neck and sniffs hard and then grabs his hair, smelling his scalp too. “Not wearing perfume again. I’m glad you remember I like it raw.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

There’s a tongue reaching out for his earlobe and a hand squeezing his throat, Jungkook’s other hand pumping him faster, milking him as if Taehyung was made to be used and abused only for that.

“Give me your cum, baby, I wanna lick my hands with you all over it.”

Taehyung loses it and comes spurts of thick white inside his pants, head spiraling, hands holding for dear life onto Jungkook, as the other slows down his movements until Taehyung is truly milked out until he’s a shell of his former self.

He watches with a hazy mind as Jungkook lifts up his hand to lick it clean like he promised, humming as he laps up at every nook and cranny of his fingers and palm, swallowing everything that Taehyung gave it to him.

Taehyung is panting hard, and Jungkook bites down his lips like he’s holding back from pursuing him, ready for round two. 

And then it hits Taehyung like a crack of a whip, curving his spine taut.

“Oh my God.”

He just came on Jungkook’s hand. He cheated on Seojoon. He cheated on his husband with a deranged assassin who milked him dry and then licked his cum clean like it’s his life source.

Taehyung’s gonna pass out.

Jungkook senses the pain and damage and steps back, careful, as if he’s merciful now. But they can’t undo what was just done. 

“Oh my God,” Taehyung’s voice is choked with incoming tears.

“You can go now,” Jungkook says.

Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat. His knees are still weak, but he runs.

He passes by the nearby guard, the man sensing the commotion and perking up. “Dr. Kim? Are you alright?”

Taehyung nods and hurries his steps, afraid. Something tells him he needs to hold his keys close to his heart.

He heaves in a shaky breath the moment he steps foot out of the facility and gets to his car, blinking away tears from the sheer guilt of what he has just done.

He grips the steering wheel hard with wide eyes, unable to blink, and his heart refuses to calm down. He knows he has to start the car.

It takes him a long time to do so. 

When he does, he drives away until he’s in an abandoned parking lot. He kills the engine, and the sobs come out immediately, relentless.

He cries until there are freckles on his cheeks and a sharp headache for punishment. He’s dizzy and there’s cum drying inside his pants, his underwear, he feels like shit and unworthy of the lowest tier of mercy he can find, because there’s so many wrong things in what he just let happen to him.

The guilt and the disgust flood him like a tsunami. He has a feeling his life will never be the same ever again. He’ll be haunted and he knows it.

But he won’t try to stop and won’t try to remedy like he does with his patients.

Because he deserves every bit of it.

 

Notes:

almost a year later lol but now i’m much more in my element, so it’s going to be easier to update. tell me what you think is going to happen now >:) love to know what goes on inside your dirty little minds

 

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