HOUND DOG | KookMin

You ain’t nothing but a

Hound dog, hound dog, hound dog….

A man moved among the shadows, quiet and deadly. Darkness embraced him, the night playing a friend as it sheltered him away from prying eyes. Tonight’s goal was clear in his mind and the only outcome he’d accept was succeeding. This was a one-chance-only matter, and he couldn’t risk it under any circumstances. This was as much for himself as it was for Park Jimin. The sole purpose of this whole ordeal was to secure his place beside the heir of the Oniyuri-Gumi. He could not, would not continue to allow the treasure that was Park Jimin to be protected by a heedless halfwit in charge of more stupid, pinhead followers.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d rather say he was gifted in the brains department. Jungkook knew perfectly well that Kim Jin Seok was a good enough security head for Oyassan to thrust his most prized possession into his care, but Jungkook was better. And that was the point. He was smarter, had all experience he could ever need after being in the nit and grit of the organization’s bustle. He was a genius when it came to strategies, and was a leader by nature. He was a skilled assassin and carried the tiger on his back a symbol of courage and bravery, strength even in times of struggle. The official emblem of the Oniyuri-Gumi with pride and reverence.

Jungkook had escalated ranks in the family through hard work. Working his ass off to be good enough, and earn the respect and skills he’d need if he ever aspired to be Jimin’s most trusted man. He could and would protect Jimin better than any other man would ever be able to. And he was here to prove it tonight.

He had gotten Oyassan and Jimin himself’s approval for this little stunt he was carrying through, even if neither man knew the exact details of what he was about to do. Jungkook respected Oyassan as much as he did his own father, after all, so he’d never go behind his back. As for the silvered-hair beauty… Jimin was as much the end goal as the meaning to get it. Without his consent, there wouldn’t be any point in even trying.

🗡️ 🐯 💮

Jungkook got into the balcony of the room beside Jimin’s silently. No guards in sight; fucking rookie mistake. Yes, it may be twenty feet from the ground, but Jungkook was right there now, wasn’t he?

The space between the verandas was somewhere around four feet long, but he easily shortened it, clambering into his target’s balcony without a single noise, slipping behind the man standing guard there and slicing his throat before the latter even realized he was there. Jungkook used the grip he had on the body to quietly lower it behind the big rounded boxwood plant adorning the spacious terrace. One down, four more to go.

At this time of the evening, he knew Jimin was in the shower room, taking a bath in his pretty jade hot tub a gift from his father after his first killing because ≪no human on God’s green Earth was worthy enough to stain the heaven-sent gift that was his son with their lowly blood ≫ because he did so every night at the same hour. A too predictable routine, another slip-up he’d have to correct when he was the one in charge of Jimin’s security.

The shadow behind the glass doors crawled among the darkness. They were ajar, letting the night breeze in, so there was no issue while entering the room. The stalking man didn’t even have to use the tools he had prepared for this task in particular. Jungkook knew Yanan, the second guard, was on his phone, crossways to the doors but too preoccupied exchanging messages with his latest boy toy instead of guarding the bathroom door as he should’ve been, and Ro Woon wasn’t a problem anymore, so he slid in along the wall and, quiet as a mouse, walked through the room and behind the long-haired man.

Just as silently, Jungkook secured a grip around the Yanan’s shoulders, who sat in Jimin’s big king-style armchair, and plunged the thin, delicate blade of his trusty knife into the guard’s larynx, right below his Adam’s apple; the tip of the blade pointing inwards until he could feel bone. For a few seconds, there was no sound other than the low, pathetic gurgle of Yanan choking on his own blood.

Jungkook was careful not to stain the pearly white material of the chair with crimson, as he knew Jimin wouldn’t appreciate it, lowering Yanan’s body to the ground as he had done so before with Ro Woon’s.

Tonight, Jungkook had chosen a knife because the key to his plan working was stealth and efficiency. He was on his own in this and had to prove his worth as a sole affiliate with no external help. A gun would make way too much noise and would definitely alert the whole house that there was an intruder. But a knife? Inaudible and elegant. Jungkook had always found beauty in the graceful art of wielding a blade to accomplish his goals.

With Ro Woon and Yanan out of the way, there were only two more guards to take care of. Seulgi, Jin Seok, and Taehyung. Seulgi was one the best shateis in the Park family by far, but she had a soft spot for Jimin the size of fucking Busan and it made her sloppy where she shouldn’t be. That’s why she was a whole two thousand square meters away from her protectee, in the house’s kitchen looking for a late-night snack for Jimin. Jin Seok was in the hallway, guarding the main door to the room, and Taehyung… Jungkook smiled as he thought of the older man. After all, every single infiltration work needed some inside help. And even though it wasn’t easy nor cheap Jungkook had managed to secure Jimin’s most trusted man.

The black-haired man sat down on the previously occupied chair, prompting his equally dark boots on the body at his feet as he played with the crimson tip of the knife. He took a handkerchief out of one of his cargo pants pockets and started to meticulously clean it up, humming a tune under his breath as he did so.

That’s how Jimin found him as he got out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, body deliciously wet with perspiration and the remnants of his bath, scantily wrapped in a blood-red kimono with a regal tiger embroidered in gold, Park Byung-Ho’s Jimin’s father personal mark. The garment itself was worth a small fortune, made of the softest, most delicate silk and rich brocades, and every single inch was artfully embellished with tiger lilies and chrysanthemums. The color did everything to compliment the golden hue that seemed to glow from Jimin’s skin and the rosy tint in the older man’s lips and cheeks. Park Jimin was a work of art, beautiful wasn’t enough of a concept to describe the scope of exquisiteness the man possessed. And it never disappointed in stealing Jungkook’s breath away.

🗡️ 🐯 💮

Jungkook felt every single muscle in his body still and he caught sight of the vision that was Park Jimin. On the outside, he looked as calm as a panther lounging on the branch of a tall tree. Inwardly, though, his heart skipped several beats before starting back up in an unrelenting rhythm. He kept quiet, waiting for the object of his affections to make the first move. Jungkook didn’t underestimate the other, he knew Jimin had probably realized there was something going on the second the first body hit the floor. After all, one could not be the sole soir of an Oyabun, heir to the biggest Yakuza family in Japan and Korea, and not be skilled in the arts of surveillance and murder.

Jimin, however, didn’t react to the body on his floor, or the man dressed as shadows sitting on his tusk chair. He perched himself, elegant and pretty, among the silky quilts on his king-size bed. The silver-haired man propped his left leg on the mattress, the sleek fabric of the kimono sliding, smooth as butter, down the limp and exposing more and more skin. He reached for his bedside table and grabbed the body lotion there. The room suddenly flooded with the fruity scent of peaches and something softer, more subtle yet spicier.

As dainty hands start to apply the buttery lotion on the exposed skin of Jimin’s leg, Jungkook has to focus on swallowing hard around the sudden lump in his throat, absentmindedly prompting his combat boots on the no-longer-struggling man below him. The raven haired boy waits with bathed breath as Jimin switches legs, the faintest blush covering his cheeks at the sight of so much skin. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for his hands to be the ones caressing Jimin.

Just as he is about to open his mouth and try to say something, the bedroom door bursts open and Jin Seok, Jimin’s head of security, enters the room. It is reflex, at this point, how Jungkook stands up at lightning speed and positions himself behind the muscular man, but before he can bury his knife in the other’s throat, Jin Seok elbows him hard in the gut in his attempt to escape.

The younger man grunts but his grip doesn’t loosen. He brings one of his legs up between Jin Seok’s, tangling it around the latter’s right knee and bringing him down to the floor with a loud clatter. They roll around as both men struggle for dominance, throwing punches at each other’s faces and any other uncovered spots. Jin Seok manages to stand up back up and lunges for the younger, hand already reaching for the gun in the waistband of his pants, but Jungkook, still on the ground, uses his momentum to push the other back with his legs, throwing him hard against Jimin’s dresser. Everything on it clatters loudly, but aside from a stray bottle of perfume, nothing else falls off to the floor.

Jungkook stands up as well, done with the whole thing already, as a mean frown pulls down the strong set of his eyebrows. He adjusts the knife still in his grasp and plunges toward the older male, kicking away his gun while turning over his body to grab Jin Seok’s arm and pull him harshly to the floor. He follows the motion and pivots again, kneeling over the fallen man and plunging the knife down into the other’s neck. Jungkook makes sure to place the blade just below the junction of the other man’s jaw and neck with the edge facing outwards, thrusting the knife through his neck from right to left, keeping the dull edge closely against the though bundle of neck cords until the tip comes out on the other side, then he applies enough force to bring the blade out at the front and have a clean, nice cut. There is a splash of blood that springs directly to the white dresser, crimson drops tainting the otherwise unblemished surface. After that, everything falls into silence.

During the whole ordeal, Jimin barely bats an eyelash at them, dutifully applying lotion to his smooth legs and arms and whatever other exposed part of his body the cerise kimono allowed Jungkook’s eyes to feast on. When he finishes, he settles for crossing his legs, tantalizingly so, one over the other, and propping his right elbow there, chin delicately resting over a small fist.

Jimin takes in the scene in front of him with a detached sort of interest, slightly curious about the result, but easily distracted by the way his room had consistently become a bigger and bigger mess. The room smells a distressing mix of ripped peaches and the iron scent of blood. As he silently mourns over the lost cause that now is what used to be his fluffy white rug, Jungkook strikes a final blow, more of a finishing detail than a necessary wound carving a surprisingly accurate rendition of a tiger lily with the point of a small pocket knife he pulled out of one of the pockets of his black cargo pants on Jin Seok’s forehead. Color him slightly impressed.

Y’know, Jimin starts after everything has gone quiet once more I was especially fond of him the silver-haired man continues as he looks down at his dead bodyguard, blood steadily running down the tattooed hand that had desperately tried to stop the inevitable.

Jungkook tsks, displeased, as he moves from his perch on the man’s chest, and slumps against his previously occupied position on the chair, chest heaving the slightest bit as he picks up his discarded handkerchief and proceeds to continue cleaning up the blade of his knife. Maybe if he’s taken to Lee right about… he stops in his task to check his nonexistent watch now, he might make it. Jimin snorts, then, derisive but amused at the younger’s humor and his obvious distaste for the older man; and Jungkook wonders just how he can make even that sound sophisticated.

However, if Jungkook wasn’t as attuned to the silver-haired man’s every little move, he may have missed it, but he was and he didn’t. He sees the exact moment Jimin’s expression darkens. It was almost impossible to distinguish, yet to Jungkook, there was no mistaking the way Jimin’s mocha eyes turned almost black and the set of his pretty lips hardened. Clearly, he wasn’t adept at doing his job as he was supposed to if he is now bleeding out on my Persian rug. This is said with the same light, cloyingly sweet tone Jimin uses to secure deals and seduce unsuspecting business partners Don’t you think so, Jung-kook-ie?

Every syllable of his name was emphasized slowly, and even though they were a few meters away from each other, the smaller male’s words seem to ghost over Jungkook’s skin, running down the side of his neck and causing shivers to rack down his body. Then for a second, Jungkook is lost in the dark hazel pools that are Jimin’s eyes, unable to process any thought beyond how unfairly beautiful the older is. He manages to catch himself though, embarrassingly enough chocking around a swallow before answering a simple Clearly.

The scarlet-clad man smirks then. The slightest curve at the edge of his smile, and the hound dog’s eyes are once more drawn to yet another part of Jimin he would gladly offer his life for. Jimin hums, slowly standing up from his perch on the king-sized bed, the kimono he is wearing slides dangerously down his bare shoulder, exposing the ivory skin of the man’s collarbones. Jungkook can feel himself start to salivate Deal with this as you please, then. The soir says, mellow and seductive as he moves, seeming to glide across the marble floors.

After knowing each other for so long, of course, Jungkook has been close to Jimin before, but no level of closeness is enough to dull down Jimin’s exquisiteness. He’s so beautiful he doesn’t look real. And Jungkook, for the life of him, can’t seem to function properly once those pretty brown eyes are looking at him.

As the shorter man comes closer, Jungkook can’t help but let his eyes stray, following the curves and generous glimpses of unblemished skin Jimin provides him with. The silky fabric of Jimin’s garment flows as he moves, and he looks as if he came out of the hound dog’s wildest fantasy.

Time seems to stop, once again, when Jimin reaches him, resting small, dainty hands on broad shoulders and somehow gracefully sliding a thick, thick thigh over Jungkook’s hips, and settling down on the younger’s lap as if it was his rightful place to be. Jungkook would like to agree wholeheartedly. Jimin’s core rests just over the younger’s groin, and it feels hot and inviting, ruby silk riding over his long legs and raising goosebumps in its wake.

The younger man’s hands hovered helplessly over wide hips as he didn’t know for sure if he was allowed to touch; even if having the older male in his lap seemed like invitation enough, he’d rather not risk it. Park Jimin didn’t have such qualms, however. His hands trail teasingly down the bigger man’s torso, caressing the bumps and dips of his abs and pecs until they finally rest over broad shoulders once more.

He drags a dainty hand down the length of his shatei’s arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Time seems to stop once again as Jungkook feels petal-soft lips caress the shell of his ear, an almost violent shudder racking down his body as he is told You have my permission, Kyodai-san.

Jungkook feels his throat close up, choking on the words he meant to say as Jimin’s breath caresses behind his ear and down his neck. He really had it bad. Jungkook swallows hard, then clears his throat. I will, Hyung.