Chains of Command// TK// ONGOING

The Test

The city glowed beneath them like scattered jewels, but Taehyung barely saw it. His back was still pressed against the cold glass, Jungkook standing so close his presence filled every inch of space.

"First rule," Jungkook said quietly, his breath grazing Taehyung's ear. "When I speak, you listen. Always. No hesitation."

Taehyung's lips parted, but no words came out. His throat was dry, his body tense, but he nodded.

Jungkook's smirk curved faintly, though his eyes remained hard. "Good."

He stepped back finally, giving Taehyung space to breathe—but not too much. "Second rule. When I call for you, you come. No matter what."

Taehyung swallowed. "I'm your secretary... isn't that already—"

Jungkook cut him off with a sharp glance. "I'm not talking about office hours."

The weight of the implication sank heavy in Taehyung's chest.

"Do you understand?" Jungkook pressed.

Taehyung hesitated. The silence stretched until it was unbearable. Finally, he whispered, "...Yes."

Something flickered in Jungkook's gaze, satisfaction dark and quiet.

"Third rule," Jungkook continued, pacing slowly around him like a predator circling prey. "Don't lie to me. Even if the truth makes you hate me. Even if it breaks you."

Taehyung's heart pounded so hard it hurt. "And if I do?"

Jungkook paused behind him, leaning close, his voice almost a growl. "Then I'll break you myself."

The words sent a shiver down Taehyung's spine. He closed his eyes, gripping the seams of his trousers to stop his hands from trembling.

"Relax," Jungkook said suddenly, tone softening in a way that was almost worse. "I'm not here to hurt you. Not unless you give me a reason."

Taehyung turned slowly, finally meeting his gaze. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because," Jungkook murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Taehyung's forehead with infuriating gentleness, "you make me feel alive again. And I don't intend to let that slip through my fingers."

The honesty in his voice unsettled Taehyung more than the threats had. It was raw, dangerous in a different way—because it wasn't cruelty. It was obsession.

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Dinner

Jungkook poured two glasses of wine and set one in front of Taehyung. The table was minimal, only the sound of cutlery against plates breaking the silence.

"Eat," Jungkook ordered.

Taehyung obeyed, though his appetite was gone. Every bite felt heavy, as if the food turned to stone in his throat.

Jungkook watched him, not his plate. Every movement, every flicker of hesitation, he catalogued like a scientist dissecting a specimen.

Finally, Jungkook spoke. "Why did you take this job, Taehyung?"

Taehyung froze. He hadn't expected that question, not here, not now.

"For my mother," he admitted quietly. "She's sick. She lives in Daegu. Treatment is expensive."

Jungkook's eyes softened slightly, though his tone remained neutral. "So you sold yourself to Jeon Enterprises for her sake."

Taehyung frowned. "I didn't sell myself—"

"Didn't you?" Jungkook interrupted smoothly. "You knew what people said about me. You knew the risks. And still, you came. You accepted the paycheck. You accepted me."

Taehyung's hands tightened around his fork. "That doesn't mean I—"

"It means you're mine," Jungkook said, calm but merciless. "Even before I said it out loud, you already were."

The words cut deep, not because they were cruel—but because a part of Taehyung feared they were true.

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The Test

After dinner, Jungkook led him to the lounge, where the city spread wide through endless glass. A single command followed.

"Kneel."

Taehyung's breath caught. "What?"

"You heard me," Jungkook said, voice low, unreadable. "Kneel."

Taehyung stood frozen. His pulse thundered in his ears, pride clashing with fear. This wasn't work. This wasn't professional. This was submission.

"I can't..." he whispered.

Jungkook tilted his head, studying him. "Can't... or won't?"

Taehyung's chest tightened. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. But more than anything, he wanted to understand why his body burned under Jungkook's stare, why part of him was already sinking, already folding.

His knees hit the rug softly.

Jungkook's breath hitched. Satisfaction flared in his eyes, dark and possessive.

"Good," he whispered. He reached down, brushing his thumb along Taehyung's jaw, tilting his face upward until their eyes locked. "Don't you see, Taehyung? You were made for this."

Tears pricked Taehyung's eyes—humiliation, confusion, and something dangerously close to longing.

Jungkook's touch lingered, gentle yet binding. "Rule four," he murmured. "When I claim you, don't fight it. You'll only lose."

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Midnight

Jungkook didn't touch him further. He didn't have to. The power was already established, the leash already tightened.

Taehyung sat curled on the edge of the guest bed Jungkook had shown him to, staring at the city lights outside the window. His knees still ached faintly from the rug.

He hated himself for obeying. He hated Jungkook for making him. And yet—beneath all of it—he hated the small, twisted part of him that didn't want to forget how it felt.

In the silence of the penthouse, one truth echoed louder than the city below.

He was no longer free.

Jungkook didn't need to touch Taehyung to bind him. The act of kneeling was enough—a silent chain, a test of obedience. And Taehyung passed it, even if he hates himself for it.