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Velvet desire

The Crimson Nursery of the King

The sound of the heavy oak door unlocking was no longer a noise to Jisoo; it was a physical sensation, a vibration that traveled from the soles of her feet, up through the gold anklet, and settled deep in her womb. It was the signal that her world was about to shrink to the size of a single man.

Taehyung stepped into the sunroom, his presence instantly draining the light from the fading afternoon. He looked disheveled in a way that screamed violence. His silk tie was gone, his white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, and there was a dark, wet smudge on his cuff that Jisoo refused to identify as blood. His eyes, however, were the most telling part. They were blown wide, the irises nearly swallowed by pupils that burned with a manic, starving intensity.

"Jisoo," he rasped, the name sounding like a jagged piece of glass in his throat.

He didn't walk toward her; he stalked. Jisoo stood up from her mahogany desk, her heart hammering against her ribs. Before she could offer a greeting, he had her pinned against the floor-to-ceiling glass. The cold surface of the window pressed against her back while the furnace of his body crushed her from the front.

"You were perfect today," he murmured, his breath smelling of expensive whiskey and adrenaline. He pulled a sleek smartphone from his pocket, the screen glowing with a high-definition recording of her teaching her class from three hours ago. "I watched you for four hours. I watched the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. I watched the way you smiled at those children."

His hand moved to her throat, not squeezing, but circling it with a terrifying possessiveness. "I hated them, Jisoo. I hated every child who saw your face today. I wanted to reach through the screen and gouge their eyes out so they could never perceive you again."

"Taehyung, they’re just children," she whispered, her hands coming up to rest on his broad chest. She could feel his heart thudding like a war drum. "They need me."

"No one needs you but me," he hissed, his face dropping into the crook of her neck. He inhaled sharply, a shudder racking his frame. "I’ve spent the last six hours in a room full of men who want my head on a stake. I’ve had to decide who breathes and who rots. The only thing that stopped me from killing everyone in that room was the thought of this."

He moved his hand from her throat to her breast, squeezing the heavy, aching mound with a groan of pure agony. Jisoo gasped as a stray drop of milk escaped, dampening her silk blouse. The scent hit him instantly—the sweet, primal aroma of her devotion.

"You’re leaking for me again," he whispered, his voice dropping into a dark, honeyed register. "My beautiful, fertile Queen. You knew I was coming home hungry, didn't you?"

"I always know," she admitted, her head falling back against the glass.

Taehyung didn't wait to reach the bedroom. He swept the books and laptop off her desk with a violent crash, clearing the surface in one motion. He lifted her up, sitting her on the cold wood, and spread her legs wide. The gold anklet clinked rhythmically against the mahogany, a sound that seemed to drive him into a deeper frenzy.

He tore at the buttons of her blouse, sending several flying across the room. He didn't care. He needed the skin-to-skin contact. He needed the life she provided. As the fabric fell away, revealing her lace bra strained to the limit by her fullness, Taehyung let out a sound that was half-sob, half-growl.

"I’m starving, Jisoo. Save me."

He unclipped the front of her bra, and her breasts spilled into his waiting hands. They were engorged, the skin stretched tight and translucent, mapped with delicate blue veins that led straight to his prize. He didn't hesitate. He latched onto her left breast with a desperation that made Jisoo cry out, her fingers locking into his thick hair.

The suction was intense, visceral. Taehyung drank with a rhythmic, guttural swallowing that echoed in the silent sunroom. He was like a man possessed, his large hands kneading her waist, his thumbs digging into her hips as if he were trying to mold her flesh into his own.

Jisoo felt the familiar rush of oxytocin, the wave of warmth that always softened her edges until she was nothing but a vessel for his peace. She watched him—the God of Death, the man who ruled the city with an iron fist—reduced to a creature of pure need at her chest. It was her power over him, the only leverage she had in this gilded cage.

"Slow down, Taehyung," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "You’ll choke."

He pulled away for a second, a thin trail of white escaping his lips, his eyes dark with a terrifying sort of worship. "Let me. I want to drown in you. I want to be so full of you that there’s no room left for the rest of the world."

He switched to the other side, his tongue swirling around the nipple, teasing the milk to the surface before drawing her back in. He was more aggressive than usual, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, leaving faint marks that would surely turn into bruises by morning. He was marking her from the inside out.

As he drank, his hand wandered downward, sliding beneath the hem of her skirt. He found her already slick and ready, her body betraying her mind’s desire for a quiet evening. He let out a muffled groan against her skin, his fingers moving with a possessive, rhythmic friction that matched the pace of his drinking.

"You’re so wet for me," he whispered, breaking his latch to look at her, his lips glistening. "Even while you feed me, you’re begging for more. You’re just as obsessed as I am, aren't you, Jisoo?"

"I love you," she sobbed, her body arching toward him. "I can't help it."

"Good," he growled. "Don't help it. Sink into it. Let the madness take you."

He stood up, kicking his trousers away, his naked form a testament to power and scars. He didn't use a condom; he never did. He wanted every part of himself inside her, wanting to leave his mark in every way a man could. He grabbed her thighs, pulling her to the very edge of the desk, and entered her with a single, devastating thrust.

Jisoo’s scream was swallowed by his mouth. He kissed her with a ferocity that tasted of iron and milk, his tongue demanding and dominant. He moved with a primal, jagged rhythm, the desk creaking under the force of his obsession. Each strike was a claim, a violent reminder that she belonged to him—body, soul, and every drop of life she produced.

"You are my sanctuary," he gasped against her ear, his breath hot and ragged. "My church. My altar. I will kill anyone who dares to even look at the gates of this house."

"Taehyung... please..."

"Say it," he commanded, his hands gripping her hair, pulling her head back so she had to look into the abyss of his eyes. "Say you’ll never leave this room. Say you want to be my prisoner forever."

The pleasure was too much, the intensity of his gaze too consuming. Jisoo’s mind fractured under the weight of his love. "I’ll stay! I’m yours... I’m your prisoner, Taehyung! Just don't leave me!"

He let out a triumphant roar, his pace becoming a blur of friction and heat. He reached his peak, his body seizing as he poured his entire existence into her. At the same moment, Jisoo’s body gave way, her climax so violent it left her gasping for air, her milk spraying onto his chest in a final, involuntary act of surrender.

They stayed like that for a long time, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock and their synchronized, ragged breathing. Taehyung didn't pull away. He stayed buried inside her, his head resting on her shoulder, his hands still clutching her as if the world might end if he let go.

"I had a man killed today," he whispered into the silence.

Jisoo closed her eyes, a single tear escaping. "Why?"

"He was the one who authorized the delivery of those flowers," Taehyung said, his voice devoid of remorse. "He was a high-ranking member of the rival syndicate. He thought he could use you to get to me. He thought he could send a 'gift' to my wife and show me he wasn't afraid."

He pulled back, looking at her with a chillingly calm expression. "I showed him fear, Jisoo. I made him watch the footage of you in the library. I told him that every time he looked at your face on that screen, I would take a piece of him. By the time he died, he couldn't even remember what a flower looked like."

Jisoo shuddered, the cold reality of his world crashing back in. "You’re a monster, Taehyung."

"I am," he agreed, leaning down to lick a stray drop of milk from her collarbone. "But I am *your* monster. And as long as you keep me fed, as long as you stay in this house and keep your heart beating only for me, I will keep the other monsters away."

He picked her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He carried her out of the sunroom and toward their master suite, the gold anklet clinking with every step he took. The hallway was lined with silent, unmoving guards, their eyes fixed firmly on the floor. They knew better than to look at the King’s prize.

Inside the bedroom, the moonlight was the only illumination. Taehyung laid her on the bed, but he didn't let her go. He crawled over her, his hands pinning her wrists above her head.

"I want to see it," he murmured.

"See what?"

"The gold."

He moved to the foot of the bed, lifting her leg and kissing the heavy anklet. He took the small gold key from the chain around his neck and inserted it into the lock. Jisoo held her breath, thinking for a split second that he was setting her free.

But he simply turned the key, heard the click, and then locked it again.

"Just checking the security," he whispered, a dark glint in his eyes. "I like knowing that I’m the only one who can take this off you. And I never will."

He crawled back up her body, his weight a comforting, terrifying pressure. He settled between her legs, his head finding its way back to her breast. He wasn't hungry anymore, but he needed the connection. He needed to feel the slow, steady pulse of her life against his cheek.

"Taehyung?" she whispered into the dark.

"Mmm?"

"Will I ever see the sun again? Outside of the windows?"

The silence stretched for a long, agonizing minute. Taehyung shifted, his grip on her waist tightening until it was almost painful.

"The sun is dangerous, Jisoo. It burns. It fades things. It makes people want to wander." He looked up, his eyes reflecting the pale moonlight. "Why do you need the sun when you have me? I will give you light. I will give you heat. I will give you everything the world has to offer, but I will give it to you here. Where you are safe. Where you are mine."

Jisoo looked into his eyes and saw the truth. There was no escape. Not because the doors were locked, and not because the guards were outside. There was no escape because she was the only thing standing between Kim Taehyung and the total annihilation of his soul. If she left, he would burn. And if he burned, the world would burn with him.

"I understand," she said, her voice a ghost of a sound.

"Good girl," he murmured, his eyes finally closing. "Now, feed me one last time before we sleep. I want to taste you in my dreams."

Jisoo reached down, guiding his head back to her chest. As he latched on, she looked out the window at the distant lights of Seoul. The city looked so small from up here, so fragile. She realized then that she wasn't just his wife or his nurse. She was the cage that held the beast.

She stroked his hair as he drank, her movements rhythmic and soothing. She was the Goddess of Death’s peace, the mother to his madness, and the prisoner of his heart. And as the night deepened, she accepted her fate.

She was the King’s milk and blood. And she would never, ever be free.