One-Way Ticket | Jeon Jungkook

sixteen

"If you're a makeup artist how come you know how to fix a camera?" He asked with a raised brow, a mischievous glint in his ice-blue eyes as he took the fixed camera back and inspected the lens.
"I'm a bit of an all-rounder." I said and smiled. "Clearly," he replied as he looked me up and down. Apparently, all thoughts of getting back to filming had left his mind, because suddenly he was leaned up against the wall on one arm and chatting with me. "So, what's it's like, working and being so close to the most eligible bachelors in the world?" He asked with a dashing smile, his gaze drifting between my eyes and lips consistently. "Tempting." I said and he laughed. "If you come from South Korea, how come you speak English so fluently?"
"Oh I'm American, I just moved to Seoul, like, half a year back. But my family comes from Korea."
"Interesting."
"Yeah."
"Can we just agree that this place smells terrible, like fucking piss." He said and scrunched his nose and looked around.
"That's what I said!" I beamed and then I crossed my arms. "These conditions are terrible."
"Yeah! I swear to fucking god, I saw a living pigeon back in the fridge." A shady and sassy look overtook his features, and I could do nothing but agree. It felt good to talk English with someone so freely again. At home my family had talked a combination of English and Korean, but everywhere else it had always been English. And when I moved to Korea that had suddenly disappeared. But now that I was back, I felt like I could talk as I took a breath. Easy and carefree because English would always remain my first language. I had missed it, I realized.

Random-camera-guy kept on talking but from the corner of my eye I saw someone pass by and I lost all focus. Their eyes were trained on me and from the flickering light of the hall I could make out Jungkook's face. His features were pulled into a confused and tense look as he watched camera-guy and me. In his hand was his phone, completely abandoned from his attention. I saw his jaw flex and before I knew it, he was gone again. I felt a need to run after him, explain something I did not know what was, but my feet were chained to the floor. Besides I couldn't follow him, not into the mass of celebrities.
"Who was that?" Camera-guy asked and peered over my shoulder towards the doorframe and hall. I snapped back into reality. "What? Oh! nothing, just a person."
"Some person," he said and shrug his shoulders. "Anyway, I should probably get back to filming. They'll start thinking I'm getting stoned in a bathroom soon if I don't." I smiled. "It was fun talking to you, stranger."
"You too, stranger." He smiled cheekily when he said the word, and suddenly he was gone, and I was alone again.

I plopped into the sofa again. I started mindlessly scrolling on my phone, the hairstylist hadn't returned. In the back of my mind, I wondered just how bad Jin's hair accident had been. But that was secondary, my mind was full of the strange look Jungkook had sent me earlier. The way his jaw had clenched, the way he gripped his phone, the way his expression went blank.

It all happened so quick I didn't see it coming. He came into the room with a rapid speed, grabbed my wrist and hurriedly pulled me with him without even looking at me properly. "Jungkook?" I tried to object shushed, but he ignored me and hauled me roughly into an empty storage room and closed the door behind him. I landed up against the wall with a breathtaking thud while he towered over me. He breathed heavily and I was pretty sure I did too. "Jungkook what's going on mhpf-" His lips collided with mine roughly, rougher than ever before. He opened his mouth into mine immediately and pressed me harder against the wall, so hard it almost hurt. I whined at the feeling into his mouth, but it only egged him on. His tongue ran over my teeth as he licked into my mouth, his left hand coming to grab both of mine and pinning them above my head so easily it almost scared me. A pathetic whimper left my mouth as he held on tighter, and he pulled away to look at me. So weak for him.

I felt a sudden dampness spread between my legs, a desperate need for him. I couldn't read his expression, the way he looked at me, a mixture of desire, anger, and something else. He pressed his hips slowly against mine and the touch ignited something in me. Just enough to make my head dizzy and fuzzy, but not enough to stifle my burning need. I wriggled against him, trying to get closer, to touch more. His tattooed hand came to my face gently as he observed my every reaction, his thumb running across my bottom lip and pressing down on the middle, plump part of it. I slipped it in between my lips and his breath hitched. He pulled it out with a barely audible pop and instead let it run down the side of my hip and down the curve of my ass. I could only stand helplessly as he burrowed his head in the crook of my neck and inhaled deeply, shivers ran down my spine and I shuddered against him.