#crossed lines

“still mad?” he breathes, voice ragged.

winter doesn’t answer. just pulls his hoodie off like it offended her and bites down on his shoulder hard enough to bruise. the curtains are literally wide open.

city lights pour in like an audience.he sees her glance at the window.

“leave it,” he mutters.

“someone will see.”

“good.”

jungkook lifts her like it’s nothing, slams her against the window, hips pinning her hard. her head thuds back against the glass, breath catching in her throat.

“i hope they record it,” he says, grinding into her. “let ‘em start another scandal.”

she laughs, and it sounds bitter.

“oh yeah?” she pants. “like the other one? that backup dancer? that girl from Inkigayo?”

his jaw clenches, “your really bringing that up now?”

“why not?” her voice is venom-sweet, eyes glinting. “was she a good fuck?”

he grabs her by the chin, fingers tight, tipping her face up. “she was,” he growls. “but she wasn’t you.”

her stomach flips, so he leans in, lips brushing hers, heat rolling off him like smoke.

“she wasn’t loud,” he whispers, “wasn’t messy. Didn’t slap me for moaning.”

he pulls her panties down like he’s punishing her. drops to his knees, tongue hot and unforgiving, licking her like it’s fucking war.

winter moans. its sharp, guttural, desperate.

“you gonna be my favorite girl again?” he mutters against her thigh. “gonna let me fuck the jealousy outta you?”

she grabs his hair, drags him closer.

“try me.”

after she cums on his tongue, hes already inside her,

“your— fuck— friend mingyu… is he single?”

jungkook stills, pupils dark and jaw locked.

“what?”

she moans. bites her lip, “dunno. just thought he was hot.”

he laughs once, and humorless. then he fucks into her so hard the glass shakes.

“yeah? you think he’d even look at you?”

she gasps, but grins, breath hitching on the next thrust. “he looked at me pretty long last comeback.”

jungkook grabs her thigh and spreads it wider, forcing her back down on him like a rag doll.

“hes got a waiting list full of girls begging for his dick” he mutters, breath hot against her skin. “you wouldn’t even make it if you tried.”

“oh?” she breathes, rolling her hips like a threat. “you sound jealous.”

he smirks, cruel andslow. “what about giselle?”

she freezes for half a second. He notices, cuz he never misses. “yeah,” he growls, fingers digging into her hip hard enough to bruise. “she was looking real pretty last week.”

“youre disgusting.”

“you started it.”

they move faster now. meaner, sweat-slick and breathless. every thrust is a challenge. every sound she makes drives him closer to losing it completely.

“maybe i should call mingyu,” she hisses.

“maybe i should bend giselle over your dressing table.” he retorts.

she moans like it hurts, hands gripping his back, nails scratching angry red lines into his skin.

“tell me,” he pants, voice ragged, forehead against hers. “you still want me?”

“make me want you,” she gasps.

so he does.

he smashes his lips on hers, they never kiss.

thats their rule, no lips. no softness. its too much, way too close. too easy to fall into things they can’t afford to want.

fucking is fine. filth and words and hands in places no one else sees? fine. but kisses? thats where the line is.

at least, it was. winters still shaking when he comes. buried deep, forehead against her shoulder, breath hot and unsteady. her legs wrapped around him like she’s trying to keep him inside forever.

he doesn’t pull out. doesnt move. Just lets his body go slack on top of hers, weight pressing her into the mattress, arms still around her like he can’t let go yet.

he kisses her. again. no warning. no teasing. just lips against hers, slow and wrecked and real.

she tenses, but only for a second.

then she kisses him back. its messy and soft, nothing like what they’ve just done. no games. just mouths moving slow and open and honest. way too honest.

when he finally pulls back, his eyes search hers like maybe he regrets it. like maybe it was too much. and she touches his jaw, barely there.”you weren’t supposed to do that.”

he just breathes. “i know.”

they stay like that for a moment. sweaty, bruised, quiet. then he lifts her, like it’s nothing, like she weighs less than air, and carries her to the bed. lays her down gently, like he didn’t just fuck her within an inch of her life five minutes ago. he grabs a towel. cleans her up without speaking. then slips under the blanket beside her and pulls her against his chest.

one hand rubs her thigh. soft. absent. comforting.

she hums.

“promotions start next week,” she mumbles into his skin.

“yeah,” he replies. “well be in japan for two days.”

“are you doing the jimmy fallon thing?”

he nods. “you?”

“maybe. depends how the mvs perform.”… “do you think they’ll find out?” she asks.

his fingers trace lazy shapes into her skin.

“eventually.”

she titls her head up, “would you care?”

he meets her eyes. then, slowly: “only if you did.”

Raising his dominant hand, Shay let his fingers hover over the wound and extended his senses. Opened himself to the larger network of energies woven into every organic and living thing around him. Mikal called it the Weave, likened the innumerous threads of energy to a tapestry, but Shay preferred to think of it as a web.

That’s how it felt, anyhow. Perched at the center of a great spiderweb, feeling the thrum and vibration from each thread as it was plucked, his magic giving Shay the ability to tug and alter them too. Normally, blood wasn’t a requirement to work the threads. But it was a powerful catalyst, giving a lone Spinner the ability to amplify their craft threefold.

With a deft flick of his fingers, Shay pulled at the shimmering line drawn from his blood. Other threads joined it, pulled from his surroundings, tying them together, and around himself in a ward that would last until dawn. Tucked away in his makeshift bolthole, one of many in the network of safehouses scattered across the city, Shay knew he’d be safe.

Breathing heavily from the effort, Shay tugged a few more lines, weaving them into the increasingly intricate pattern caged around himself. From the ground, the walls, the boards, all stitched together with a single thread of brilliant crimson, spun from his blood.

Just a little more…

With a grunt, Shay tied off the ward as it stabilized. He severed the connection to himself, breaking the Hunt’s tether to him in the process. The sharp sting of the weaving’s backlash hit like a slap, left his ears ringing and the taste of iron and cloying bitterness in his mouth. He blinked, clearing dark spots from his vision. Panting, hand braced against the frigid, gritty cobblestones of the half-sunken cellar floor, Shay grinned.

Something screeched, a few streets over. A shrill squeal of fury and confusion. It sent a shiver down Shay’s spine, even knowing his ward would hold.

“Dare you to find me now, bastards,” Shay muttered, pushing out a quiet chuckle. Then groaned. Exhaustion slammed down on him like a giant’s club, the immediate consequence of weaving such a powerful ward. Even with the added boost of blood, he’d overdone it.

Stupid, and reckless, Shay imagined Mikal saying.

Stupid and reckless but still alive, Shay would argue.

And he would argue with his brother when he made it back home. That was as inevitable as the sun rising. Which—Shay cocked his head, peering out through a gap in one of the boards hastily tacked over the entrance to his hideout, taking in the position of the moon—was only two or three hours away, at most.

Enough time for a nap.

At this point, Shay didn’t think he had much choice in the matter. Magical exhaustion was nothing to play chicken with. Master or apprentice, it’d still knock you on your ass if you pushed yourself past your limits.

Here, though, Shay figured he was safe. He’d have to be, because he sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere else till his legs stopped feeling like jelly and he could force his eyes open longer than a breath or two at a time.

Stiffly, Shay lay down on the stone floor of the cellar, tucked his legs close and drew his dark cloak around himself like a blanket. Drying blood fanned down his arm, itching and stinging around the edges of the wound, but Shay felt too tired to do more than dab at it with the hem of his cloak. A draft crept in through the gaps in the boarded up window wells, slipped icy fingers under the crack below the trapdoor, and ruffled hair as white as moonlight, but his cloak and hood kept the worst at bay.

Discomforts aside, sleep came swiftly; for once, Shay didn’t even dream.

You groan. “I was trying to nap, but I got rudely interrupted.”

He hums against your skin, mouth finding the sensitive spots on your neck. “I know a better way to relieve that tension I feel.” Jungkook’s ministrations become firmer. Hand sliding up your body to trace the swell of your chest. Lips parting so he can suck a small mark at the base of your throat. 

“Jungkook,” you groan, trying to push him off. “I want to nap, not fuck.”

“Please,” he whines, looking up to give you his best puppy dog eyes. 

Damn Jungkook and his big, shiny eyes. Always finding a way into your heart—and your pants. Sex with Jungkook is great, awesome, mind-blowing, insane, but you really just want to nap right now. Ever since the two of you agreed to having sex, no feelings, no strings attached, the whole list, it feels like you barely do anything but fuck. Whether it’s a quickie between classes, or a couch cuddle gone steamy, you always manage to end up with Jungkook between your legs. And you won’t complain about that. 

You sigh. “I don’t want to, Jungkook.”

“Oh,” he frowns, realising that you’re actually serious. Lifting the blanket, he scoots in behind you so that he can pull you against him. Your head on his chest, hand tucked under his waist. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah. I just—I kind of miss hanging out with you.” You trail your hand up his side, feeling the familiar ridges of muscle. “The sex is great, really, I just don’t want this to turn into a sex only thing. I still want to be friends with you, and do things that friends do.” There’s an odd sensation in your stomach, a tight, full feeling. Nerves? Maybe. You’re not sure whether Jungkook will take your words the way you intended them. Both of you agreed, no feelings, but you didn’t really think that excluded being friends. You just hope he understands. 

“Why didn’t you just say so?” he asks, giving you a tight squeeze. “You’re still my best friend. You can be honest with me about that stuff, silly.”

You chuckle. “It just took me a while to realise it.” That, and the fact that you are still questioning whether you’re really capable of fighting off your feelings for him. The lines between you and Jungkook have always been blurred. Adding sex into the mix felt like a natural step. It feels right, and that worries you, just a little. “Let’s tone it down a bit, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. What do you want to do? Make a schedule? I propose that we do friend stuff on Sunday, Tuesday and We-“

You shove your elbow into his side. “Shut up you idiot. I’m not going to be scheduling when we’re having sex.”

“Fine,” he laughs, cuddling closer to you. This is something you had missed, the feeling of him near without knowing it’s going to lead to sex. The ideal would be that balance, you just have to find where that lies for the two of you. Without toppling past that line of developing feelings, if that’s still preventable. 

Jungkook lets you bury your face in the crook of his neck, tracing patterns on your back. “How about that nap?”

You nod. “Yeah, a nap sounds good.”

“You know that I still care about you as a person, right?” He suddenly whispers. “You’re not just some girl I have sex with, you’re so much more.” 

There it is. Jungkook and his achingly sweet words that make it so hard not to love him. “I know.” Because you do know, you just don’t know what ‘so much more’ means. It’s easier not to ask and just stay strong. “I care about you too, Kook. I just really, really need you to shut up so I can sleep.”

He laughs, muffling the sound against your hair. “Okay, let's sleep.”

© GguksGalaxy 2020

Second Chance (book 1):

Injury

Bonds

Freinds

Pause

Servents

Lunch

Distress

Comfort

Exposed

Reflection

Discovery

Truth

Acceptance

Explanation

Energy

Projection

Confusion

Decision

Pain

Preperation

Distraction

Spirit

Jump

Crossed Lines (book 2):

Awareness

Rejection

Family

Investigation

Infinite

Connections

Memory

Repression

Distrust

Trap

Cogency

Trust

Apology

Trickery

Panic

Capture

Extortion

Doubt

Change

Forgiveness

Escape

Ally

Reperations