***UNEDITED***
TW:Mature content ahead!
"How will we announce it?"
Taehyung wouldn't tell you, but he liked your question. He liked the irony. He liked the way it sounded this time. You'd asked him this question many times in the year and a half you'd been together. You asked him this kind of question every time you had an event to clarify the details of the image you wanted to represent. You had to convince a society, show off to reporters and satisfy parents. He answered you just before the event, but he didn't hold your hand until he saw the first camera flashes. But now he held your hand during the drive and only let go when he had to leave the car to open the door for you. Now he didn't have to tell you when to show him affection, and he didn't have to tell you when and where to touch him or where he'd touch you to avoid startling you in front of the crowd.
Now, every touch, every gesture, every word, and every action was genuine. It was spontaneous. Unplanned. He turned to look at you, and that's when he realized he was walking too fast. Your heels were high. A stiletto he'd given you this morning. You thought it was strange to receive a gift from him. There was no special occasion that called for presents. It wasn't your birthday, and, as far as you knew, there was no special holiday either. When you opened the beautifully wrapped box, your curiosity was no longer focused solely on why he wanted to buy you a present, but also on why he had chosen a pair of high heels as a gift. But when he bent down, took off your sneakers, and slid the shoes onto your feet, your curiosity was replaced by an amorous feeling reminiscent of spring and blossoming petals. The size was carefully chosen. It was a perfect fit. And you found a certain pleasure in knowing how much he noticed your details. That joy grew like tulips in March when he told you that a nice pair of shoes would take you to beautiful places and that he wanted to be with you everywhere you went.
He matched his stride to yours, crossed your arms with his to support you, and gave you a smile you hadn't seen often in the past but loved even before you loved him. "We'll just tell it like it is. What's there to think about? But if we're late, there will be explanations to provide. Seokjin is a time fanatic."
"I never thought you'd be afraid of him. At least your dynamic didn't suggest that."
"You don't know him well enough; that's why you say that. He's pretty scary when he's angry."
There were many things you had yet to learn about him. You explored many topics as you spent your first night in your new room. The mattress was comfortable, but it wasn't enough to lull you to sleep when you had too many questions to ask,and he had too many answers to give. You liked his voice. It was soothing. You would have loved to spend every night sleepless just to hear him talk about everything and nothing at all.
Now, you were no longer nescient about what his favorite color was. You didn't expect it to be green, which made you leave the comfort of his embrace you were in and sit up to look at him to see if he was joking. He wasn't. This realization confirmed to you that you didn't know him at all, despite the long period you spent together under the same roof. The information that shocked you the most was that he played the violin. You had picked up on his fondness for classical music early on in your marriage. Tchaikovsky was always played in his office. But you thought it was just his taste in music; you never thought he was passionate enough to take violin classes and play it. It just didn't make sense. He was rough enough to handle a gun; how could he be the stark contrast to what he was at night in the morning? It was beyond you.
In that new bed, you told him about your dreams. You told him why you chose the medical field, and he laughed so hard when you said the sole reason was your love of scrubs. He was expecting you to give a grandiose and noble reason like the other doctors, but then he realized that your difference from the others was what attracted him to you in the first place.
You watched the stars from the gable window as you lay on the bed. Silence enveloped your endless questions before he told you that his dream was to become an artist. It no longer shocked you as much now that you knew he played the violin. What shocked you was that his love for painting was so serious that he even studied it. He told you that business wasn't something he wanted to pursue, but his father was so adamant that he had to drop out from La Sorbonne to study business administration. He spared you the details of how his father persuaded him to drop out. He felt that such a beautiful night should not be tainted with the ugliness of his past. You asked to see his work, but he couldn't tell you that his father had torn them all down, but he promised to paint something for you.
"Let me guess," you offered as you stood outside the lounge where you were supposed to meet Jungkook and Seokjin to celebrate your checkmate. It was chic. Black and gold lined the edges of the glass wall that showed the inside of the venue. The interior was dim. Banker lamps stood on the small accent tables next to the plush armchairs to accentuate the vintage, classy vibe the place wanted to portray. "Jungkook chose the place."
Taehyung's grin was a reply of sorts. "I'm starting to think you guys spend so much time together to the point of knowing him better than you know your husband. I'm not sure what to make of that."
"That's true. Unfortunately."
When you entered the lounge, you were greeted by exactly what you expected: a mix of nu jazz and bossa nova. You'd insult Jungkook right and straight when you'd get the time. Of all the places he could have chosen for a celebration, he had picked this place. It wasn't bad. But it wasn't good either. It was the perfect place for business people to unwind after a long day of meetings. The perfect atmosphere to discuss new business ventures, too. To put it mildly, it was not the place where you would consume alcohol. It would get stuck in your throat. It would have no effect. But when you turned to see if Taehyung was next to you as you walked towards Jungkook and Seokjin and saw the look in his eyes, you realized you were already drunk on such a sweet and rare drink. You didn't need to get any more intoxicated if you wanted to keep up your image. So yes, you would spare Jungkook your rant now and later as well.
Taehyung let you go first for two reasons: the first was the obvious one. He was a gentleman, even if you would have had a different opinion a year ago. The second reason was actually pretty simple. He liked what he saw. He liked it so much. Your dress sparkled as much as your eyes did when you looked at him. It fit you like a glove. It showed off your curves and every detail that he had seen, touched, molded, and breathed his feelings into. Mind you, he wouldn't share that thought with you now, but he probably would later in the cocoon of your new favorite room.
"Here come our new, young, and handsome biggest shareholder and our smart doctor. The winning players."
Taehyung leaned on the counter of the bar and instructed the waiter, "An amaretto and a pornstar martini, please." He glanced at Jungkook, who was still spreading his arms, waiting for a hug that would never come. "And give this man some tap water, please." He added. "I'm not taking him home," he warned Seokjin with a serious tone.
"Well, I take back the title of handsome. Young is all you're going to get." Jungkook replied, "Doctor, how about we drop him off at home and go celebrate? We don't need a gloomy creature with us on a nice night like this. It's bad luck."
"Yeah, let me second that real quick. I won't be taking him home, either. I've had my fair share." Seokjin sat down at the counter with Taehyung, patted him on the shoulder, and pursued, "You're free, my pal. How does that feel?"
It really was a fresh sight. The four of you joking with each other instead of planning riots, putting drinks on the counter instead of moving chess pieces. The sight captivated you. It made you think about how time drastically changes fashion. While you wouldn't say it changes as quickly as the seasons, you would dare to compare the changes in terms of extremity. You would thank the universe for this characteristic if you happened to catch sight of a shooting star. It was your habit. You never wished for anything from a shooting star but instead communicated your gratitude to it. You found it illogical to believe that a dying star would grant your wishes. You thought it was more appropriate to thank it for watching over you in difficult times and send it off with utter gratitude for having remained there until your sky cleared.
"You should have thought about celebrating before you brought us here. Don't you think?"
"It's never too late, my dear doctor. Never."
After a few too many shots, the lounge changed fashion, too. It became cheerful. You'd dare to put it on your list of favorite places. It was still the same. The music was still far from being your style. The patrons were still the same perfectly dressed businessmen, but laughing at silly jokes made the music your favorite. It masked the people around you and made you feel like it was just you, the doe-eyed friend, the broad-shouldered vet, and the crow-haired husband.
The crow-haired husband. Yeah, having him by your side would make up for the bad music, the ugly past, the deep wounds that left big scars, and everything life would throw at you in the future.
"Depends on what you mean by free." Taehyung clinked his glass with Seokjin's as he questioned the meaning of his words.
"Free to choose; to walk down a path you'd pave, "Seokjin sipped his drink and looked at you and Jungkook, who were engaging in your usual banter, "to be with the person of your choice."
Silence reigned at the counter. It seemed your ear was with them, even if you were desperate to prove something to Jungkook. That was also the case with him, as he picked up his glass and moved close to Seokjin to join in the conversation. You stayed in your seat and drew circles on the perspiration on the glass of pornstar martini in your hand.
"You may think it strange, but my old man has brought the person of my choice into my life. He did a good deed for me for once," Taehyung's chuckle was low, but genuine. You didn't mean to peer, but it was stronger than your will. Your eyes seemed to keep searching for him that you wondered how you managed to go days without seeing him. "And she's here, with me, now, and forever. We actually came here to tell you that Yunjae and I are not getting divorced."
And it was out — the confession, the announcement, whatever you wanted to call it. He let it out effortlessly but with resolute determination. As if his doubts never occurred. As if your uncertainty and ignorance of your own feelings had never broken you apart. He said it as if he'd been born with that conviction, and for a second there, you regretted that you'd profaned the vow he seemed to have started cherishing way before you did.
"Hand over the fifty bucks," Jungkook said to Seokjin, who was wearing the same expression the former had. Namely, indifference.
"My bet was that they wouldn't get divorced. You owe the fifty to the IT intern."
"Give him a call. I need the money to pay the substitute driver. With all the alcohol I drank while waiting for this announcement, I wouldn't be able to drive."
"You guys made a bet about my marriage? WITH THE IT INTERN?" Taehyung turned his burning gaze to Jungkook who had retreated protectively behind you, "and you, what kind of CEO are you to bum an intern? I'm going to report your ass to HR for abusing your status."
"Easy, tiger. He's no stranger. He helped us, remember? And somehow, your melodrama made his boring internship fun. Lucky him. When I was an intern, the most fun I could get was when I was sent to buy coffee for the staff."
It wasn't summer. It wasn't spring, either. In fact, it was winter in its full glory, but flowers were blooming in your heart. It had been so long since you'd been stuck in fall, its dry leaves screwing up many of your shoes, that you never thought spring breeze would be so delicate. It was a revelation.
Jungkook kept hiding behind you for refuge, and you hid him for safety. It was like a child's chase, really. You liked it. It seemed more fun than the chasing vicotry in chess. Actually, you never liked chess. It wasn't one of your favorite games. You played for the sake of the game, for the sake of the win, for the sake of bestowing loss over the adversary. You were standing next to Seokjin, who was standing next to Taehyung at the counter, acting as a shield to protect Jungkook from the recklessness of his words, when Taehyung gave you that look. A look you loved for it meant more than simply taking you in for what you were. He soaked up your details. He basked in the elements that made you who you were. He seemed to have words he wanted to tell. You wanted to hear every syllabus, every letter. You wanted to carve them into your soul. Wanted them to become the earrings you would never take off.
He picked up his glass and walked towards you when Jungkook decided it was safer to shield himself with Seokjin instead. He ordered another amaretto and smiled as he looked down at the counter, seeming to count the lines drawn in the granite and every lineament. His scent penetrated you. It collided with your space in a beautiful encounter — a welcome encounter. You inhaled, wishing he would realize you were absorbing his particles and every atom with the fragrance of his cologne. He stroked the corner of his lips with his thumb and looked at you before downing the drink he had ordered, and you wouldn't tell him, but at that moment, you wished to be his thumb instead.
"Let's finish our drinks and get out of here." He said.
You took a few steps ahead to close the distance. White musk and sin assaulted him at the approach. He felt dizzy; his senses were ramping. He wished he could say what he felt, but he assumed you already knew from the way his chest heaved, long intakes following each longer exhale. He wished the oxygen saturation could keep up with the rapidity of his heartbeat, "Do you think I'm the type of girl you can take to bed from a bar?"
Taehyung wasn't agitated earlier. In fact, he was very composed despite his hidden need. But you decided to walk up to him and look at him with those sultry glances. He was just a man, after all. And he was a man who was being tested right now.
The purr got him flustered. He would even say that the heater had been blown up. One more Fahrenheit, two, fuck, maybe a hundred. Your dainty hand rested on his chest, just above his heart, and he knew right then and there that his resolve had evaporated. The other hand gripped his collar, gently tending to the nonexistent wrinkles and playing with his heart and the fabric alike. "But this is no ordinary bar. It's Bulgari, doctor."
"Labels," you whispered in his ear, and the melodious tone caused goosebumps to rise on his skin, and he thanked God for the long-sleeved shirt. See, it was all with good intentions, no malice. An innocent flirtation, but the problem was he wasn't into innocent games. He'd rather wear the horns and let the devil rule. But he figured he had finally found the way of God, had become an angel, and was now confronted by the devil. "The label doesn't change the contents, Chairman Kim."
And he leaned into the touch, letting it simmer, feeling the after-effects and the mirage of sensations it brought. He liked your perfume more today than yesterday, the day before yesterday, and in the months leading up to this moment. It was no longer a scent he'd spend hours trying to figure out what it was made of. He now knew exactly what it was made of. "What takes the contents to match the label, then?"
But as you flattered with your eyelashes and gave him that airy smile, Taehyung found a new interest in getting to know you outside of chess playfield. He wondered, as he appreciated your smile, how it would have been like if he had met you in this place during the first handshake instead of meeting you in the cabine. Would he have caught your attention? Would you have caught his attention? If so, how would it have ended? How would it have started?
"Propose a date; I might consider the offer."
A date. He still hasn't taken you on one. A year of marriage and no date to reminisce. But the past is long gone. The circumstances were different now than at the beginning of your relationship. He found your answer interesting. A date. Would it have been the same answer if he had met you here in the past? If he had met you here in the past, and if Katarina hadn't been in his life in that past, he would have given you the date you wanted. He would have given you more than that. He hadn't told you before, but you were exactly his type. He wouldn't tell you now, either. He'd keep it a sweet secret and push you to find out for yourself.
Taehyung downed his drink in one gulp, set the glass on the counter, and looked at Jungkook and Seokjin, who were in their own world, "And if I am to propose a date, where would you want me to take you?"
"Surprise me. You're in complete control, Chairman Kim." And he knew he had everything but control at that moment. He had fame and money — lots of money and excessive power — but he couldn't seem to use them on you, though. You maneuvered him at your pace, as you pleased, and he felt that was his preferred pace.
The doctor he knew on the chess court was in an element she didn't like. Was coated in a toxicity she was trapped in against her will, making her appear beautiful like a flower, but a flower torn from the ground and left without water or sunlight. A wilting flower. The doctor who now stood before him was in her element, in her composure, in the saddle of her choices, and he seemed to be her choice. He still couldn't believe that he had become her choice.
"All right, but don't say I didn't give you the choice." He took your hand in his and stormed out of the bar without saying goodbye to the two drunk men who were with you. He was still pissed about the bet.
When the fangs of cold bit into your bare shoulders, he didn't think twice before placing his Loro Piana vest over them. It wasn't quite your size. You looked funny in it, but as his eyes lingered longer in it, he imagined you wrapped in his sheets instead, torn away from that insufferable ego he loved and domesticated to his liking. Belonging. It made him ponder about taking his white shirt and putting it on you, too. Surely, you would look his.
Your heels wouldn't fit for the wet soil of the stable, so he asked you to wait at the entrance to the barn. It took you almost an hour to reach this secluded place, and he refused to satisfy your curiosity with an answer that would give you a clue as to where you were being led. You were still pretty perplexed when you arrived and saw a huge barn in front of which you parked the car. But then, as you thought about his love for horses, the confusion was replaced by an endearing laugh. In front of the barn was a life-size chessboard. The pieces were almost as tall as you. A very nice place, you considered. Old money style. A chalet for late-night escapades like this or family brunches. Given what both of your families were like, you doubted he used the place for the latter.
"Ready?" Taehyung asked after opening the car door for you and helping you get out.
"Always."
But you had not yet seen that the beach was the fortress around the place. The waves were the guards, the shore was the gate. You realized that when he sat you down in front of him and rode the fine Arabian stallion he introduced as "The Khan." The hand that wasn't on the reins rested on your waist, the thumb gently caressing the valley of your hip without ever going beyond the hipbone. You smiled a little devilishly and in your true essence: "seizing chances, aren't we?"
And his laughter echoed on your back, which was pressed against his chest. The sound was deep but contained different notes, just like his perfume. You were still trying to determine whether it was oud and bergamot or leather and pine. Maybe it wasn't that complex; you just didn't have enough time to study it in the past. You also haven't had enough opportunity to smell it up close. You settled on the former to describe his laugh. With bergamot as the top note. "Always. Chances are there to be taken. My mother's wise words."
When his lips touched your neck, the equine's pace quickened, and the hooves decided to swap the dry sand for the crashing waves instead, intensifying the power of the gallop.
It was a mesmerizing sight, a captivating feeling, a sensation of danger wrapped in the protectiveness of his embrace. You loved it, loved knowing that he would never let you brush near danger, even if you were in the midst of it. You loved his choice for a date. Loved that he was making you share his passion, that he was holding your hand, welcoming you into his space - into his brain, into the circle of everything he valued.
"Whoa!" Taehyung pulled on the reins to stop the equine. He dismounted first, and then he helped you dismount. His hands held your waist tightly, and he couldn't help but think of how beautifully they fit around it. Tailor-made to be his forever. A luxury to be earned, not bought. Your eyes were intertwined and wanted to speak words, but they chose to remain silent. His hands slowly slid away from your waist without touching your ass; he reached for the hem of the dress and pulled it down a bit after having rid a little too far up during the ride for his patience to last. It was a nice dress, he thought, for the umpteenth time. It would look great on the floor, though. A work of art born of desire and one too many shots to consider a canvas and a few brushes.
You loved that he protected your modesty, even though he'd already seen all there was to see. It made you smile. It was bashful, and he swore it was his favorite sight.
"Skinny dip?" He suggested with raised eyebrows, aware that the weather was not really of help, but he knew that his warmth would make up for the crappy weather. And when you kept those hazels fixed on him while reaching around your back to unzip your dress, he admitted to himself words that hadn't reached your ears yet.
The dress remained a trail in the sand, a signpost that showed him the way to you in the pitch-black night. The sequined fabric and its ability to illuminate the surroundings. But he never liked loneliness, felt uncomfortable leaving the beautiful dress alone in the cold, and was even more regretful about letting you touch the cold water without being there to swallow your shivers. So the buttons of his shirt were undone at the speed of light, the belt unbuckled with a flick of the wrist, and, naked, he followed you to be embraced by the sea and, with any luck, by your arms too.
When he wrapped his arm around your waist, and his palms warmed your stomach, his intention wasn't to let you feel the hard-on that hadn't jiggled since that moment in the bar. He would have liked to spare you the pressure, but he resigned himself to the fact that it was your fault from the start.
But when you curled your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist with the slightest effort, the guilt eased. As your lips reached for chartered territories, the discomfort he thought had cornered you became his. It was an attempt - a trial. They were barely felt against his Adam's apple, they withdrew, got back into position again, sucked, soothed with a flicker of your tongue, and at that, his boner became a soaring lion.
No words were spoken when you stroked his length, feeling the protruding veins rage and the precum fight against the water to retain its sticky consistency. "I told you I'd consider. Good boys who are patient go to heaven."
The whimper that left his chest vibrated against yours. Needy. Pleading. And if he'd prayed for heaven, he'd be dining with God himself right now. That dainty hand found its target in the middle of the darkness and slid his cock into your dripping cunt as if it had been its home since the beginning of your story. Its safe and right place. "Oh God!" He groaned.
"If you want to pray, pray to me," you purred, rocking in a steady rhythm that you created and he maintained. In and out. The right place, the right time, the right people. "your prayers would be granted sooner."
His hands settled on your ass cheeks, palms flat on the smooth skin. He liked the fleshy feel of it. It was so soft and cushion-like. He wondered what it would feel like to have your breasts between his hands; he reckoned they would feel even better in his mouth as his tongue swirled around the nipples. He swore you'd lose your balance if he started working on them instead. Decided to put this off until another day when a bed or other flat surface would hold you in place so he could fight stability with havoc.
The sea was calm, contradicting the mirage of feelings running through his mind. Calm down. Cool down. But he could psyche himself to tune it down however he wanted; calmness was far-fetched with the moans you didn't have the shame to muffle. He liked it. You being all so needy and whiny for him. Never thought a day like this would come. Always thought you would whine for freedom when in his presence. But times change, like everything in life. And as he surreptitiously worked the firm muscle in your back with his index finger and gently pushed it in, just enough for your cunt to clench around his cock, he made peace with the changes he had always hated.
And he did. In your sanctuary, he prayed. He prayed for prosperity and fertility and the possession of the land that became his. He prayed until the rain came from the east and west. South and north. And your rain was cream on his fat, generous dick, and his was the sprouting within your walls that marked a beginning he would be sure would last for eternity.
The order was rearranged. The things that were supposed to come first appeared last. Still, they were welcome, especially when the way you kissed him meant words he wanted to hear. Words he wanted to say. He found comfort in the knowledge that they would come out soon.
You broke off the kiss first, leaving him with his eyes closed and his lips longing for more, and got out of the water. He had expected you to fetch your dress immediately, but his last doubts became affirmations when you rode the stallion naked.
You were the one.
"This horse is mine now, just as I became yours. Forever."