Answer: Prologue [ Part - 6]

He could pass off the edge that sharpened his hoarse voice as postcoital fatigue, but perhaps he had been a bit too direct. Jungkook took in hand his premium leather briefcase, well-suited to a young, talented businessman like him, and for a split second his face darkened sourly. Taehyung’s fleeting glance caught the pained furrow just in time to see it smooth away.

Unlike Jungkook, who had finished his shower and was now smartly dressed, Taehyung remained sprawled on his stomach upon the bed, the ripple of his spine jutting from his bare back. He didn’t do so out of spite; the sex had been as rough tonight as always, and he was simply too drained to move. The lukewarm heaviness in the air, herald of the coming summer, made his body and especially his lower joints ache something fierce, and Tae bowed under the weight of his years.

I never want to move again.

His legs slumped numbly behind him, and between them, that worthless part of his body that Jungkook had seen fit to ravage throbbed in pain—a natural consequence, of course, given the circumstances.

It was far too late to be preening for Jungkook anyway. What was the point? This elite-looking man standing before him probably knew his body more intimately than he did.

Jungkook’s body temperature was naturally high, so high that his skin was hot to the touch, and yet Tae shivered with the chill he created only a few feet away from him. He found himself gazing at the young man’s figure, seeing nothing to suggest that Jungkook had just passed those same hours blending his senses and bodily fluids with Tae’s.

The elegant cut of Jungkook’s suit complemented his tall, muscled frame. Not even an echo of afterglow from their impassioned time together now lingered in the young, hard lines of his face. His features were a shade broader than most, with a wild ferocity to them, but strangely they did not appear coarse or brutish; in fact, they possessed a refined glamour. Maybe it was the somewhat pale color of his irises, but although his creased eyelids framed eyes that were lovely in shape, they did not leave an impression of kindness.

The only emotions that bled into his expression were aloofness and intellectual pride, and Taehyung watched them play across his face like a tragedy. Jungkook always looked so bitterly miserable after sex. The more he fought to keep a stony front, the more vividly his stifled irritation and regret sprang to the surface.

You don’t have to waste your time on an old man like me, if it’s going to wear you out like this.…

What a thing to say to one’s sort-of blackmailer!, Taehyung thought, but a pang of sympathy wove itself into the complicated knot in his ******. Under the pretense of exhaling a mouthful of smoke, he heaved a sigh.

There was far too much he could not forgive and could not forget for him to accept Jungkook with open arms, but six months was a long time to share one’s bed with somebody, in any case. The act of joining the most private parts of their bodies had begun to create some kind of connection between them, no matter how either of them might strive to keep strings unattached. Both of them were loath to acknowledge it, but it was Taehyung who was as honest with his feelings as he was quick to resign himself to them. And as the prickly edges of his demeanor softened, the subsequent hardening of Jungkook’s was, perhaps, a sort of inevitable reaction.

“When’s next time?” he asked in a dry voice. It was all he could bring himself to do.

“I’ll come again Friday,” Jungkook replied in a similar tone, and there was nothing about him that should have wrung his heart like this—if anything his manner was insolent—and yet Taehyung was again stung with pity, and he had nothing more to say as he turned his eyes away from Jungkook’s retreating silhouette.

...End of the Prologue......

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