Chapter 12 || "Professor Kim: A victim. A Survivor. A Saint." || BOOK 2 OF PHOENIX IN HIS ARMS.
Jungkook didn’t realize when his wine glass became empty,
refilled, and empty again—or was it already more than that? All he knew was
that every sip had made Taehyung look more dazzling, more unreal, like a moving
portrait painted by desire itself.
He leaned one hand against the cool marble counter and
sighed dreamily, eyes locked onto the back of his husband.
“Look at him. So graceful… so majestic… so unfairly
perfect.”
Taehyung’s rolled-up sleeves were halfway responsible for
Jungkook’s brain slowly turning into mashed strawberries. The way those arm
muscles flexed as he tossed garlic into a pan… it wasn’t legal. It just wasn’t.
Jungkook was mid-fantasy—imagining Taehyung throwing him
onto a royal feast table, wedding suit half-undone, candles flickering in the
background—when Taehyung’s voice called gently:
“Kookie.”
No response.
Taehyung tilted his head and turned to look over his
shoulder, eyes narrowing just slightly in amusement. His wine-slicked lips
curled into a barely-there smirk before vanishing behind a calm
expression. He walked to the fridge and pulled out a tall, beautifully
garnished glass of banana smoothie, complete with a little swirl of
whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle.
When he turned back, Jungkook was still lost in his head,
lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.
Taehyung cleared his throat once. “Kookie.”
Jungkook blinked rapidly and sat up straighter, finally
noticing his now-empty wine glass being gently taken away from his hand.
“You seem… a little lost,” Taehyung said, amused. “You’ve
already finished more than half the bottle. If you keep going, you’ll end up
dancing on the dining table again.”
Jungkook blushed, blinking. “Huh? No, I wasn’t—I was
just—uh, thinking…”
“Mmm,” Taehyung hummed knowingly, passing the smoothie to
him. “Here. I made this banana smoothie for you. It’ll help balance the wine.”
He leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to Jungkook’s forehead.
“Be good. Finish it all.”
Jungkook nodded mutely, taking the glass like a student
handed a holy scroll. His heart fluttered at the forehead kiss, and he
immediately began sipping.
Taehyung returned to the stove, but there was a knowing
curve on his lips now, hidden from Jungkook’s gaze.
Fifteen minutes later, Jungkook had finished his
smoothie—and ten different fantasy scenarios in his head, each one starring him
and Taehyung in progressively more ridiculous yet romantic settings: ballroom
dancing in the rain, being chased through a vineyard by paparazzi before
sharing a kiss in a cellar, or riding horses into the sunset on the beach in
matching silk robes.
His eyes glazed as Taehyung plated a sample from the pan.
Then, Taehyung turned and walked toward him with a
glistening bite of sweet and spicy chicken held on a small tasting fork.
“Taste this for me?” Taehyung asked, holding it up.
Jungkook opened his mouth like a good boy, letting the bite
slip onto his tongue.
Chew. Chew. Che—
“Spicy, spicy!” he cried, waving his hand. “Hyung—it’s
spicy!”
Taehyung turned quickly, half-laughing, and pulled open the
fridge to grab a chilled glass of fresh orange juice. He handed it to
Jungkook immediately. “Here, drink. I didn’t think it was that spicy.”
Jungkook sipped hurriedly, his tongue sticking out slightly
like a puppy. “Still burns,” he pouted.
Taehyung leaned over and added a spoonful of honey into the
pan, adjusting the balance. He tasted it again himself and nodded in
satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he muttered. “Thanks for being my taste tester.”
Jungkook smiled with flushed cheeks, drinking the rest of
the juice. He watched Taehyung with glowing admiration.
“He takes care of me… cooks for me… makes smoothies and
orange juice… I won the husband lottery. There’s no other explanation.”
Taehyung turned back to him and gently placed both hands on
Jungkook’s thighs. “It’s still too early to eat dinner,” he said softly. “But I
want to talk to you before that.”
Before Jungkook could react, Taehyung bent and scooped
him into his arms again, bridal-style this time, as if he weighed nothing
more than feathers.
“Hyung—!” Jungkook yelped, caught off guard.
But Taehyung only chuckled. “Relax. No one’s home.”
They walked through the quiet halls, the soft hum of
Taehyung’s chest rising and falling under Jungkook’s ear. He could hear the
beat of his heart—steady, calm, composed.
Too composed.
“He’s definitely plotting something.”
Taehyung placed him carefully onto the plush bed, gently
smoothing his hair as he pulled away.
“I need to send some important emails,” he said. “Then we’ll
talk, hmm?”
Jungkook nodded again, eyes hooded and soft from the cozy
daze he’d fallen into.
He watched Taehyung take his place on the small sofa across
from the bed, legs crossed, laptop open. The soft blue glow of the screen lit
up his focused expression, brows furrowed slightly in concentration.
And Jungkook just… stared.
“This is dangerous. Too dangerous. He’s too hot. How do I
survive this house? He cooks, looks like that, and plans emails while I’m still
fighting to remember my own name.”
His fingers curled in the blanket, cheeks heating again as
the smoothie, wine, and emotions swirled inside him.
Little did he know—
Taehyung was watching, too.
From the corner of his eyes, Taehyung could feel every gaze
Jungkook threw his way.
And he was just letting the suspense simmer.
Because when it boiled over…
That’s when the real punishment would begin.
Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed like a statue—frozen,
fidgeting, eyes wide with helplessness. His legs were tightly pressed together,
bouncing slightly as the minutes ticked by like hours. The soft clicking of
laptop keys across the room was the only sound, besides the rhythmic thudding
of his own heartbeat in his ears.
He glanced at Taehyung, who was seated gracefully on the
sofa, one leg crossed over the other, shirt sleeves rolled just below the
elbows, exposing his strong forearms as he typed away, calm and collected.
Dangerous. Beautiful.
Jungkook bit his lip. The sensation from earlier—the wine,
the smoothie, the juice—all of it was catching up with him in the most
desperate way. He squirmed in place, eyes darting to the bathroom door like it
was a portal to salvation.
Unable to endure it any longer, he slowly rose from the bed,
hoping—praying—that his hyung was too engrossed in his work to notice.
But the low, commanding voice echoed through the room like a
spell:
“Where do you think you’re going, baby?”
Jungkook froze mid-step, one foot off the ground. He turned
his head slightly, giving a sheepish smile. “Just the bathroom, hyungie... I’ll
be back before you even send that mail…”
Taehyung’s eyes didn’t even lift from the screen.
“Go back to where I left you. If you move one more centimeter…” His
voice lowered, smooth as velvet, sharp as a blade. “Your punishment will be much
more creative tonight.”
That was enough. Jungkook instantly turned on his heel and
scurried back to the bed, sitting down like an obedient child, his cheeks red,
his eyes wide, his legs shaking with the effort to not move.
Taehyung smirked behind his screen.
He finished his last email slowly and deliberately. Clicking
with exaggerated patience. Then, after nearly an hour of torturous silence, he
closed the laptop with a soft thud. Jungkook’s ears perked up. Hope flared in
his eyes after an hour of pure torture on his bladder.
But then Taehyung stood up... and walked to the bathroom.
Jungkook’s jaw dropped.
He heard the faucet. Then the unmistakable sound of running
water. Then the flush.
“No... no no no... Hyung, you’re killing me,”
Jungkook whispered to himself, bouncing a little on the bed, face redder than a
ripe tomato. His entire body was tense like a coiled spring.
Finally, Taehyung emerged from the bathroom, drying his
hands with a small towel. He leaned casually against the doorframe, eyes
gleaming with mischief as they landed on his writhing bunny.
“Oh? You're still dry?” he teased, his voice soft yet laced
with teasing menace. “Impressive. You've got some good control over your dick
darling”
Jungkook whimpered, covering his face with both hands as he
sank onto the bed fully. “You're evil,” he muttered, “I’m dying.”
Taehyung chuckled lowly and walked over, each step
deliberate, his gaze never leaving Jungkook's trembling figure. He reached out,
his fingers brushing under Jungkook’s chin, lifting it gently.
“Do you think I should leave you this easily for what you
did, baby?”
Jungkook shook his head instantly, eyes doe-like and filled
with emotion.
“Then hold on just a little longer. You’re doing so well.
And I promise”—he leaned in, whispering right against his ear—“the reward will
be worth every second of it.”
Jungkook shuddered.
.
.
.
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