Chapter 40: CRIMSON OBSESSION

 

Submission & Defiance

 

The first thing Taehyung felt upon regaining consciousness was the dull, persistent ache that pulsed through every inch of his body. It was a throbbing sensation that seemed to follow the rhythm of his heartbeat, deep in his skull, his muscles, his bones—each movement making the pain flare with an intensity that left him momentarily breathless. His head felt heavy, clouded, as though his very thoughts were fighting their way through a fog. His limbs were leaden, unresponsive, as if he had been torn apart and reassembled only to be left in a state of aching disarray. The sting of torn skin, the sharp, burning reminder of the battle he'd survived—the betrayals that had brought him to this moment—sent jolts of awareness through him.

He tried to move, but his body refused to comply.

The last thing he remembered was collapsing in the warehouse. His body battered from the fight, the cold, unforgiving concrete beneath him, the sounds of gunfire and screams. The pain had been unbearable, and then—nothing. Just an empty, dark void, a silence that swallowed him whole.

And now, he was here.

Taehyung’s eyes fluttered open, the light around him dim and muted, casting long shadows that stretched across the room. His gaze darted around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were dark, lined with leather straps and chains that hung ominously from the ceiling, their dark shapes casting menacing shadows in the half-light. The air felt thick, heavy with a strange, almost suffocating tension. And at the center of the room—impossible to ignore—was a massive bed, its headboard intricate and wrought from cold, unforgiving iron. His wrists were cuffed to the bars, the cool metal biting into his skin, the pressure uncomfortable and unforgiving.

"What the fuck…?" His voice was hoarse, raw, barely a whisper against the emptiness of the room.

A familiar chuckle echoed through the space, low and mocking. The sound sent an involuntary shiver down Taehyung's spine. His pulse quickened despite himself, his eyes narrowing as the voice wrapped itself around him like a dark, menacing cloud.

“You’re awake.”

Taehyung didn’t need to look to know who it was. The voice was unmistakable. Jungkook.

The man who had shattered everything Taehyung had known, his closest ally turned shadow, now standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning casually against the frame as though this was some twisted game.

Jungkook was still dressed in black, his clothes rumpled from the night’s chaos. His shirt hung loosely, a few buttons undone to reveal the hint of muscle beneath, and his sleeves were rolled up, as if he had been preparing for something—something that was far from innocent. His dark eyes gleamed with something dangerous—something between amusement and hunger.

Taehyung’s jaw tightened as the weight of the situation hit him. “You drugged me,” he rasped, the words bitter on his tongue.

Jungkook merely smirked, an expression that was all too familiar—one that promised more than words could say. “And saved your life. You should be grateful, baby boy.”

The sarcasm in Jungkook’s voice made Taehyung’s pulse spike, his body reacting despite the restraints. A sharp tug at his wrists—the cuffs digging deeper into his skin—made him growl low in his throat. His limbs ached as if he hadn’t moved in hours, the reality of his situation sinking in further.

"Untie me," Taehyung demanded, his voice tinged with a sharpness that revealed the fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Jungkook didn’t move immediately. He just stood there, staring at Taehyung with a mixture of fondness and something far more dangerous. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he walked toward Taehyung, slow and deliberate, each step echoing with intent. His eyes never left Taehyung’s, like a predator closing in on its prey.

“No,” Jungkook said simply, his tone cold, but there was something in his gaze—something darkly possessive—that made Taehyung’s stomach tighten in an unfamiliar way. 

"You think a few chains are enough to break me?" Taehyung’s voice was low, edged with defiance.

Jungkook’s smirk widened as he leaned in, the warmth of his breath ghosting over Taehyung’s skin. "No," he murmured, fingers tracing over the bruises beginning to bloom along Taehyung’s ribs. "But I think they’ll make you listen."

A slow, humorless chuckle escaped Taehyung’s lips despite his predicament. "If you wanted my attention, baby boy, there were easier ways."

Jungkook tilted his head, feigning consideration before dragging his nails lightly down Taehyung’s exposed skin, watching as the muscles beneath tensed in response. "Where’s the fun in easy?" he mused. "I prefer when you fight back. You look so pretty when you’re desperate."

Taehyung’s jaw tightened. He met Jungkook’s gaze head-on, refusing to let the younger see how his body betrayed him. "And you look pathetic when you try too hard to be in control," he shot back, his lips curling in challenge.

Jungkook laughed then, dark and amused. "Funny," he said, tightening the cuffs with deliberate cruelty, "because from where I’m standing, I’m the one calling the shots. And you? You’re the one tied up, helpless, waiting for me to decide what happens next."

Taehyung only smirked, unfazed by the claim. "Let me go, and we’ll see who’s really in control."

Jungkook leaned closer, his mouth a breath away from Taehyung’s ear, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Tempting," he murmured. "But not yet. I like you like this too much."

The defiance in Taehyung’s glare only seemed to amuse Jungkook further, and with a smirk that hinted at something cruel, he reached out and traced a single finger down the exposed skin of Taehyung’s chest. His touch was deceptively gentle, lingering over the deep, angry bruises left by his enemies. The contrast was sharp—the softness of his touch against the stark, raw violence of the marks left on Taehyung’s body.

“You’re mine now,” Jungkook whispered, his voice low, dark, a promise wrapped in dominance. “And it’s time you learn that.”

The words hit Taehyung like a blow to the chest, and he couldn’t help but smirk, despite the restraints that held him in place. “I don’t belong to anyone, baby boy,” he replied, his voice dripping with a mixture of defiance and challenge, as though daring Jungkook to test him.

Jungkook’s patience snapped.

The slap came without warning—a sharp, resounding crack that echoed through the room. Taehyung hissed, the sting of it radiating through his thigh, his muscles tightening in response to the sudden pain. It was painful, but it was the anger behind it that made him feel alive.

“Wrong answer,” Jungkook growled, his voice low and filled with threat.

Taehyung’s breath hitched, but his lips curled into a wicked grin, refusing to show weakness. “Do that again,” he taunted, the challenge in his voice unmistakable.

Jungkook let out a dark chuckle, his eyes narrowing in something dangerously predatory. “Oh, you are going to regret that,” he warned, stepping closer, his movements fluid and unhurried.

Before Taehyung could respond, Jungkook’s hands were everywhere—rough, demanding, relentless. His fingers found their way under the fabric of Taehyung’s clothes, pushing, pulling, moving with the sole purpose of claiming him, marking him, pushing him toward the edge of something both painful and pleasurable. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, calculated. He used Taehyung’s restraints against him, forcing his body into a position of vulnerability, yet Taehyung refused to yield.

He refused to give in.

Jungkook relished in the challenge. He wasn’t just breaking Taehyung’s resolve—he was forcing him to admit his own need, his own submission. It was a battle of wills, a struggle that made Taehyung’s heart race, his breath coming faster, his body reacting despite his best efforts to resist. Jungkook’s fingers and teeth dragged across sensitive skin, and Taehyung writhed beneath him, refusing to beg, refusing to let the other man win so easily.

“Say it,” Jungkook demanded, his voice thick with command, his breath hot against Taehyung’s ear.

Taehyung smirked through his heavy breaths, his body trembling but his spirit unbroken. “Baby boy,” he said, his voice rough, a taunting note in the way he spoke the words.

Jungkook’s patience snapped. The punishment was swift and unforgiving. Every movement, every whisper, every touch was designed to test Taehyung’s limits. Jungkook used every tool at his disposal—his hands, his mouth, the unforgiving grip of the silk restraints that dug into Taehyung’s skin. Each moment Taehyung neared the edge, just as his body would begin to tremble with need, Jungkook would pull away, leaving him desperate, furious, and trembling with frustration.

“Please,” Taehyung finally ground out, his voice raw, his body glistening with sweat as he yanked violently against the cuffs. His chest heaved with every breath, the room spinning with the intensity of the emotions and sensations battling within him. “Please, Jungkook,” he gasped, his voice slipping into something softer, more vulnerable than he’d ever wanted to admit.

Jungkook’s fingers traced lazily over Taehyung’s abdomen, his touch light, almost teasing as he smirked down at the trembling man beneath him. “Please what, baby boy?” he asked, his voice mocking and sweet all at once.

Taehyung growled, his body taut with restraint. “I’m going to kill you,” he snarled, the threat hanging in the air like a challenge, a promise.

Jungkook laughed darkly, pressing a chaste kiss to Taehyung’s parted lips before pulling back just as Taehyung’s lips sought more. “Not tonight, you’re not,” Jungkook murmured, his voice laced with wicked satisfaction.

It was intoxicating, the power, the control. Jungkook was relentless, leaving Taehyung gasping, trembling, unable to do anything but surrender to the pleasure that was constantly dangled in front of him, yet never granted. The mafia king—once untouchable, unbreakable—was reduced to panting need beneath his grip.

But Jungkook wasn’t done.

Not yet.

 

 

 

https://novelreadingislife.blogspot.com/2025/03/chapter-41.html