Since it the last day for BTS enjoy a 2nd story with the Maknae
“Come here, you,” he smirks, curling two fingers up at you. You find yourself pulled forward on autopilot, not even hesitating before settling into his lap. Your hands slide up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his shoulders. He curls a tight hand around your hip, bringing you forward until your core’s settled over the straining bulge in his pants. Even through your jeans, a shock of pleasure echoes from your clit.
You don’t even know this boy’s name and your instincts are screaming at you to run, but something about his gaze has you drawn in and helpless. One hookup wouldn’t hurt after all. You’ve been running for so long, dodging cops so well, you could allow yourself a little break.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes. The fingers that had summoned you curl around your chin now, forcing you to look only at him; his grip’s too strong to break free from.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin.
“Bet you look fuckin’ delicious when you cum, though,” he cuts in. Your heart stutters in your chest but you know he can feel the way your thighs clench around his lap at his words.
“Wouldn’t you like to know for sure?”
He hums in agreement, tilting your head to the side and leaning up to sink his teeth into the soft skin just below your jawline. A loud whine escapes your throat, and the way you start grinding against him is automatic. There’s a sharp inhale from him and he works a little harder, leaving a trail of bruises down your throat that have you panting and soaked in minutes. The hand on your hip slips so he can palm your ass, long fingers squeezing hard enough to make you yelp. He smirks at the noise and squeezes a little harder, forcing you to grind at his pace until you’re breathless. Your head falls back as you chase the pleasure, moving against him faster and faster until you’re practically fucking with clothes on and he’s rock hard between your thighs.
“I want you,” you gasp, hands gripping his shoulders desperately.
“I noticed,” he remarks, the dryness in his voice betrayed by the strain of self-restraint. “You’ll have to work for it.”
You freeze, watching the boy beneath you cautiously. You’re not usually so into games when it comes your sexual encounters, preferring the efficiency and safety that comes with just fucking and going. But this boy’s practically harmless – all too much muscle that he doesn’t know what to do with and young eyes and a bunny smile – and it’s been too long since you let yourself relax. You could afford to play this game with him. Just once.
“All right, big boy,” you agree, smirking down at him. “I’ll work for it.”
“Good,” he grins, threading one hand beneath your hair to curl around the back of your neck and tug you down to press his mouth against yours. His lips are soft, too soft for someone trying to play such games, but he sinks into the kiss with teeth and tongue and fire that makes your mind go blank. You let him nip at your lips until they’re swollen and sore, letting him twist his tongue against yours until you’re both gasping and his grip has turned to iron.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to match his strength, and you grin against his mouth at the soft groan he lets out. It won’t be hard to earn it, if that’s really what he wants you to do. You could get him eating out of your palm at this rate and just take what you want until he’s blind with pleasure.
That train of thought cuts off abruptly as he drops his other hand to your hip, halting your motions in his lap. You pout, pulling away from his mouth, but he just smirks, strong enough to stop you from all but squirming against him.
You sigh, going still and ignoring the way your panties are sticking to your folds. “All right. Tell me what to do.”
The man grins, hefting you off his lap just enough that you’re straddling one of his legs instead of two, before dislodging your grip on his hair with one hand.
“Grind, pretty thing,” he smirks, pressing his thigh against your core. You flush at the gasp that rips from your throat. “You want to grind on my lap so much, then get yourself off doing it.”
Your heart rate’s skyrocketing now because this is not your style, not at all, but it’s so appealing for some reason. Maybe it’s the three tequila shots, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants to see in this world, maybe it’s the utter exhaustion from being on the run for so long. You’re not even certain you want to tease out the reason as you comply without quite thinking about it, letting yourself grind against his thigh. Your fingers curl in his shoulders as pleasure starts rocketing through you again, and you flush under his gaze when you look up to see the man staring at your with the most predatory look you’ve ever seen.
It makes you feel smaller than you have in a long time and you’re not positive you like it. But your hips are moving faster, chasing your high of their own accord, and it gets worse when the boy flexes beneath you, pressing hard ridges of muscle against your core. A small cry rips from your throat and you grind harder against him, daring to even press one of your thighs against the erection straining at his pants and feeling some sense of relief when he shudders in response.
“Don’t push it,” he grits out, shifting so you’re settled more firmly on his thigh, smirking at the way your pace gets quicker.
You fight back a whimper, adjusting to your new position so your clit gets most of the pressure, feeling the way you’re soaking through your panties. If you were wearing thinner pants – or, even worse, a skirt – you’d have been staining his pants by now. You’re not sure why you feel so pulled to him or why you’re so desperate to have him that you’d be willing to let him watch grind against his thigh until you got yourself off without any touching from him, but right now, it’s the only thing you can think of that you want to do.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he groans, one hand curling around yours on his shoulder. “All wound up and desperate for me. I can hear how wet you are, you know. I should have made you take your pants off first.”
You let out a noise that’s somewhere between a whimper and a mewl, gripping his shoulders harder for leverage. He smirks wider.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he groans. “Leaving a stain on my pants so everyone can see what you did. Knowing I can make you a mess without even touching you.”
You’re not sure why you’re nodding so vigorously, but you are.
“Too late for that now,” he sighs. He peels one of your hands off his shoulders, reaching to move it behind your back. “Now, see if you can’t get off without touching me.”
“Why?” you whine, already feeling your grip on his other shoulder going slack. Why were you so willing to do what he wanted?
“I really want you to work for it,” he grins.
You pout but oblige, locking your hands behind your back, and digging your knees harder into the couch in order to grind hard enough to find your pleasure again. He groans, watching you with rapt attention now, hands curled tight into fists on his lap, and you’re relieved that he’s so openly affected by this. You throw caution to the winds, deciding to not care about why you’re allowing this and focusing on just the pleasure, the chase, the movement of your hips along his thigh. His breath picks up with yours when you feel that familiar coil in your belly start to tighten, your thighs shaking against his legs as he flexes his thigh on every forward pass of your hips.
You lose yourself in the sensation, your hips rocking gracelessly as you focus only on the buildup of pleasure between your thighs, ignoring the way your muscles ache and how much you want to touch the boy underneath you. Your eyes clench shut as you’re thrown towards that edge, higher and higher with every flex of his thigh, every muffled groan in his throat as he watches you.
“Let go,” he rasps, voice an octave deeper than it was when you had first said hello. “Cum for me, pretty thing.”
“God, fuck,” you whine, hands clenching together behind your back. Your release was right there, just a few more clenches away.
It explodes behind your eyes, white noise filling your ears as the tension snaps, wetness flooding between your thighs until you’re sure there’s going to be a damp spot on his pants. You’re clenching around nothing, riding the aftershocks, but the man doesn’t stop digging his thigh up into your core, making your clit pulse and throb with overstimulation.
You’re gasping, trying to find your center again, when you feel fingertips grazing down your arms. The cold kiss of steel doesn’t register until you hear the click! behind your back. Your eyes fly open, staring down the boy underneath you, now watching you with something akin to triumph in his eyes and your mind races to catch up, your jaw going slack with confusion.
Deft fingers slip into his pocket and your heart stops at the black leather that emerges.
“No,” you breathe, knowing it’s already too late.
“Officer Jeon Jungkook,” he introduces himself, flipping the leather case open so you can see his badge. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time, _______.”
“You bastard,” you spit, horror pulling at the bottom of your stomach.
Jungkook shrugs, curling one hand around your bicep; you wince, the bruising grip suddenly a lot less pleasurable. He manhandles you off his lap and you stumble to your feet, arms straining at the cuffs. You ignore the bite of steel into too-soft skin, struggling uselessly as he stands up and pushes you towards the exit. He fiddles with something just on the inside of his shirt and your stomach plummets even further when he pulls out a microphone.
“Suspect in custody,” he murmurs into the speaker after a moment of fiddling. “Heading back to headquarters.”
There’s a moment before the receiver crackles to life and you wince at the voice that comes through.
“Good work, Jeon. See you soon.”
“Have that on the whole time did you?” you spit, belly tightening with embarrassment and rage.
Jungkook doesn’t look at you, shoving you towards the elevator and pressing the button for the garage floor. “No,” he says abruptly. “And it’s turned off again now.”
“Sure it is,” you snarl. You try to yank your arm free of his hold and don’t manage to dislodge even a finger.
The elevator dings on the bottom floor and he pushes you out in front of him, holding you steady as he walks you towards a black cruiser. You wince at the obviousness of the car; it was probably the least undercover undercover-cop car you had ever seen. How were you so blind? After all this time, one pretty face was your downfall. Pathetic.
You can’t stop the yelp when Jungkook presses you against the side of the cop car, keeping you there with a palm flat in the center of your back.
“I don’t have any weapons,” you snarl, “So just –”
“Shut up,” he mutters quickly. The next thing you know, his body is molded to yours, and you hate yourself for the way you heat up at the feeling. “Listen, this is a lot bigger than you think. So be on your best behavior and I may be willing to help you get out of this.”
“What the fuck are you –“
“Shut up,” he says again. “Just be good and I won’t leave you behind when this is all over.”
You don’t get a chance to ask another question or even spit an insult back at him before he’s yanking open the back door and shoving you inside the cruiser. The grate separating the back seat from the front just worsens your humiliation and the feeling of your panties soaked against your folds gives you the strangest urge to cry.
“Remember what I said,” Jungkook grunts again when he slides into the front seat. “Play nicely and I’ll get you out in no time.”
You stare pointedly out the tinted window, pressing your lips together instead of responding. The part of your brain that was so willing to lower your guards for him trusts him to follow his word. The rational part of your brain doesn’t believe a single word he says.
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