C37 - Soul-ed MATE

“I’m not leaving until he does,” I tell him. “So, you might as well help me.”

Namjoon glances from Yoongi to me, his expression solemn. Then he jumps into action, pushing off his suit jacket and joining me beneath the beam. Together we manage to force it higher, maybe an inch, enough for Yoongi to draw in a rough breath.

With a pained shout, Yoongi heaves himself back. His legs just clear the space before my knees give out. Namjoon swears and drops the beam.

With a crack, the other end falls through the floor, revealing a small peek at the ballroom beneath us. Yoongi closes his eyes, clearly fighting whatever’s happening inside him.

I hurry to his side, helping him stand up, finding more strength somewhere inside me. We do what we have to. With his hard-packed muscle and large frame he’s much heavier than my father.

Namjoon joins him on the other side, helping to support him.

And with struggling, halting steps, we make our way across cracked wood and down broken stairs.

!!~~~~!!

While I’m waiting for the doctor, someone knocks on the door. I look through the peephole, thinking maybe it will be Taehyung. Or maybe the cops.

Instead, I recognize Jin from the Twin Peaks Motel. He looks out of place with the lush green and wooded stretch behind him, so different from the concrete forest I know him from.

I open the door. “I can’t believe you were spying on me.” Even though I can believe it. I know how persuasive Yoongi can be.

Guilt forces his gaze to the side. “I’m sorry.”

I move back to let him in. “I just hope you charged him enough.”

He steps into the hallway gingerly, as if expecting to be tossed back out. “He didn’t pay me anything, I swear.”

“Well, then you definitely didn’t charge him enough.”

“I asked for something more important than money.”

“What?”

Is that a blush? His cheeks look a shade darker.

“Come on,” I say, wheedling him. “You betrayed me to get this thing that’s better than money. The least you can do is tell me.”

He’s silent a moment. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell anyone. It’s a matter of national security.”

“National security?” I say doubtfully.

He nods. “I served on north borders. A guy in my division. God, I hated his guts. Despised him. Wouldn’t have seen him while we were on leave, but we both went to this wedding for another teammate. And I met his wife.”

My mouth opens on a silent O.

“Got to talking to her. Felt bad that she was married to such a jackass. Everyone knew he was a douche, but even I didn’t think he would sleep with one of the bridesmaids. He snuck off and left his wife at the reception. She was embarrassed but not surprised. So, I stayed with her. Nothing happened,” he adds like that’s important.

“It would be better if something had,” I say, meaning it. “He didn’t deserve her loyalty.”

“He didn’t,” Jin says. “But she had kids at home. Two girls. Twins.”

“Oh, Jin.”

“Then the fcuker went and got himself blown up. That probably would have been the best case for her, honestly. Except it came out that he wasn’t supposed to be in that supply store, that he’d been selling supplies and weapons to the locals.”

“Oh shit.”

“It shouldn’t have mattered to Karen. She should have still gotten full survivor benefits. Without the ability to adjudicate his case while he was alive, he would be considered to have died honourably—no matter what was uncovered after.”

“But?”

“But he slept with the major general’s wife. So, the guy made sure he wasn’t just tried for dishonourable conduct, like would usually happen, but treason. There’s no statute of limitations on treason. He was found guilty— because he was—and there are special rules for espionage and treason.”

“So, she didn’t get his benefits?”

“Even with two little girls at home, after living on base and moving around for years, living the army life, they got kicked out with nothing. No family either.”

My heart sinks. “So, what did you ask for?”

“For him to be reinstated. The case will be reviewed by a board and overturned. Technically he’s guilty, but it never should have gotten that high. They shouldn’t suffer for his mistakes.”

“So, she’ll get full benefits and you’ll still be sleeping outside of a shitty motel?”

“Doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

“It does matter. If you had asked for money, you could have gone to her, been with her.”

“And what? Pay her to be with me? Force her to do what’s best for her kids? I’d never do that to her.” He shakes his head. “Besides, the stain of treason would follow her everywhere. Her girls, too. It’s better this way.”

“You can still go to her. Now. She’ll have the benefits, whether she wants you or not, so she won’t feel obligated. You can be together.”

A short laugh. “I don’t know whether she was even interested in me. And like you said, I’m sleeping outside of a shitty motel. Not exactly good boyfriend material.”

“Is she here in Daegu?”

He nods.

My eyes narrow. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Leave it alone, Jimin. It’s done. She’s getting what she deserves, and I’m getting what I deserve.”

“And what do you deserve?”

“To be alone.” His nod has finality. “I only need to confirm it’s done with Min.”

I press my lips together, unable to say goodbye.

He hesitates. “Are you…?” He wants to know if I’m okay. Whether he hurt one to save another.

“I’m good here.”

I set out to save my mother’s house, because I thought it was her legacy. Something she passed down to me in a final motherly act. It was a myth I believed because I needed it, the allure a burning desire for love, the threat a cold realization that love wouldn’t be enough.

In the end I’m left not with a house or a diary, not with any assurance of my mother’s love.

Instead, I have only what’s in front of me—the opposite of myth.

I have truth.

!!~~~~!!

As mansions up Yoongi’s home is understated. It doesn’t have a bowling alley, a skating rink, or an Olympic-sized swimming pool. No solid-gold molding. The elite of Daegu want more pomp and circumstance for their millions. Instead, the house has an unassuming front, two white columns the only adornment.

Inside it’s spacious but dimly lit, giving the appearance of being cozy. The library is dark, only embers in the fireplace. I cross the rug to where Yoongi reclines in one of the wide leather armchairs beside the chess set, his posture innocuously casual.

You might not guess that he had bruised three ribs and punctured a lung in the house. He refused a hospital, choosing instead to be seen by his personal doctor.

A doctor who had warned me that our patient was particularly stubborn.

Watch for shortness of breath, muscle weakness, fatigue. He probably won’t tell you when he gets tired, but he needs to rest.

He looks the opposite of tired, lounging with leashed power. “Yoongi. Can I get you something?”

His eyes burn with accusation. “What did you have in mind?”

“Tea? A blanket?” I had known he would be angry, but I refuse to let him push me away. “It’s only fair that I help you heal.”

“If you think this is going to make me go easy on you, think again.”

“I know you’re mad about the fire,” I begin. “You told me not to go to the house.”

He leans forward, the slow movement his only concession to injury. “I’m not mad that there was a fire, Jimin. At least I’m not mad at you. When we find Kim Yongdae, he’ll pay for that.”

“Taehyung hasn’t found him yet?”

The last I saw of Taehyung was at the fire. He’s been a man on a mission ever since. After decades of living in the same city, never speaking, Taehyung wants to kill his father.

“He’s gone underground. And when a man like Kim Yongdae goes underground in this city, he’s untraceable. A fcuking ghost in the twisted machine that is Daegu.”

“For good?”

“I’m sure he’ll strike when we least expect it.”

My stomach twists with unease. “And the house?”

“It’s coming down.” He gives me a sideways look. “Unless you want me to rebuild it.”

I swallow hard. “You would do that for me?”

“Haven’t you figured that out, bluebell? I would do anything for you.”

My heart expands, beating wildly. “Why?”

“Don’t change the subject,” he says, his voice silky with menace. “All I can think about is spanking your ass until it’s pink, and then red, and then black-and-blue. And even then I wouldn’t stop punishing you.”

“Why?” The word comes out as a squeak.

“I told you to leave.”

“Leave you in a burning building?”

“Exactly.”

“I could never do that. I mean, I don’t even think I could do that for a stranger. And you’re—”

“What am I?” he asks, a challenge thick in his voice.

“What do you think?”

I place my palm against his hard jaw, feel the tension coursing through him. And recognize it for what it is.

Fear for me.

Love.

“I know that you’re a man on the edge.”

His hand grasps my wrist, squeezing in threat. “On the edge of what?”

“You tell me.”

“I would break every single rib over and over again, every goddamn bone in my body if I could stop this horrible feeling, this constant need to have you near me, under me. Wrapped around my cock.”

A small laugh escapes. “I think it will be a while before we do that.”

Golden eyes narrow. “Why’s that?”

My eyes flick down to his chest.

A black T-shirt covers him, the thin fabric tracing the lines of his bandages. “You’re injured.”

“Not too injured for that.” He moves my hand down to his jeans. His hard length greets my touch, pulsing against my palm.

“No way. The doctor told me you would be trouble.”

A low growl. “I’ll show you trouble.”

“No, no,” I say quickly, knowing he’ll make good on his threat. And then he really would hurt himself. “Maybe in a couple weeks we could try something slow—”

“Now.”

“But what if you—”

“I’m sure I can think of a way to fcuk you without killing myself.” He considers that. “Almost sure. Doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’m waiting two weeks to feel your sweetness.”

The word is a pulsation between my legs, making me whimper. “It’s too soon.”

“If you don’t climb on top of me, it will be too late.”

My eyes widen as I realize he’s telling the truth. His erection presses against his pants, taut and large.

Just from talking to me, looking at me. He would rather break his bones than need me, but he doesn’t get that choice.

I thought I was powerless, but he’s the one bound. I turn to walk towards the bedside table but he holds my hand hard and grunts, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I—I...lube?” He shake his head murmuring, “Your sleek is enough lube for me. I want to feel you for you.”

I close my eyes as a wave of pleasure hits me at his crude language.

Carefully, slowly, I climb onto the armchair, placing my knees on either side of his legs. He makes a low sound when I brush against his chest, but when I try to pull away, he clasps me tight.

I reach between us, unleashing his cock. It falls against my own, heavy and slick at the tip. I grasp both our cocks and rub it in to and fro motion at each other as he leans back on the chair growling.

After a few second of rubbing each others cock he opens his eyes, his gaze predatory as he speaks. “I want to feel your warmth.”

“Dying?” I ask him softly.

I bite my lip, pressing it between my legs. When I look up at him, he’s watching the place where we touch, his lids low, hands holding my thighs hard enough to leave marks.

He laughs and then groans. “Fcuk yes.”

I press down, sheathing him, savoring the ache from his size. When I’m seated against him, I can feel his legs under my ass, his coarse hair against my bare skin.

He flexes inside me, and my body clenches in response. It’s a wordless communion, an echo of the look we share. It’s unbearably intimate to see his expression, his need. Unbearably vulnerable to know he sees the same in me.

Rising up, I gasp at the slide of him. When I’m at the apex, his fingertips dig into my hips, dragging me back down again. Our bodies clasp together, and he groans.

“Again,” he demands.

My legs tremble, but I obey him, thrusting myself on top of him, using my whole body to pleasure him, shaking muscles squeezing him inside, slick flesh adding friction.

A tortured sound fills the space, and I realize it’s me.

It’s one thing to let him plunder me, to open my legs and feel him slide inside—another thing to be the force of my own submission, to let gravity and my own desire to please him stretch me wide.

It felt like fcuking heaven to break you open.

That’s what he said, and I see that it’s true.

A strange release to feel the pain, to inflict it, to choose who to hurt. And then his eyes flash with agony, his cock pulses inside me, and his body goes tense as he cums with a loud groan. My slicked cum dripping along with his.

My flesh can only ripple around him, only want and need and flux, until his hand wraps around my own cock aching for his touch, a rough flick—that’s all I need.

It sends me over until I’m pressing myself against his hips, my ass tender against the coarseness of his hair, damp with his spend.

I fix our clothes and move to stand. He pulls me back to his lap.

“Look at me,” he says, voice soft with threat.

It’s a struggle, but I meet his gaze. “Yoongi.”

“I thought you were going to die in that house.”

“We’re safe now,” I whisper, wanting to reassure him. Wanting to reassure myself.

But I’m not sure we can ever be safe with Kim Yongdae in the city.

He killed my mother.

I know that now.

That house was my family’s demise. We were invaded by a Trojan horse in the form of hidden cameras, ripped apart by a weapon in the form of a secret. And Kim Yongdae could strike again at any time.

For now we’re safe behind thick walls. We need to fortify them for whatever comes next.

“I thought I was going to have to watch you die, Jimin. Do you know what that did to me? Seeing you in danger and unable to help you?”

The anguish in his eyes rips a hole through my shield. I have nothing to protect me, nothing to do but admit the truth. “It would have done the same thing to me if I’d left you there.”

I touch my forehead against his, closing my eyes. He pulls in a shuddering breath.

“Then we both lost,” he murmurs. “We’re a stalemate.”

“Both of us helpless. Both of us trapped.”

The fate he wanted for my father, but it bound us together instead. A curse reflected in black-and-white, each side a mirror. Neither of us can escape. Neither of us wants to.

“To remain,” he says, his hands tightening on mine.

And that’s what we are. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Not for a million dollars. Some games you prefer to lose.

I will remain on this chessboard with him, the man I love.

“Play with me?” I whisper against his lips.

“Always.”

!~~~~!!!!~~~~~!