Mine to Keep
mine to keep
hajun
Hajun: He was looking at your mouth while you talked.
yeorim
Yeorim: You’re imagining things! You almost broke his hand when you shook it.
hajun
Hajun: I should have broken more than that.
yeorim
Yeorim: Can we please just have one night where you don’t act like a predator?
hajun
Hajun: Look at me. Right now.
yeorim
Yeorim: I’m sitting right next to you, Hajun.
hajun
Hajun: Not close enough. Put the phone down. I’m done talking.
The moment the door to the bedroom clicked shut, the silence was heavy, charged with a physical electricity. Yeorim didn't even have time to reach for the zipper of her dress before Hajun’s arms were around her, his body a wall of heat against her back.
He didn't speak. He simply turned her around and hoisted her up onto the edge of the mahogany dresser, forcing her to look at him. His hands were large, calloused, and firm as they gripped her thighs, pulling her flush against his chest.
"You think I'm too much?" he rasped, his voice dropping to a gravelly low. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers racing down her spine. "You think I'm 'rough'?"
Hajun..." she breathed, her fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.
Can't help it," he whispered, his kisses trailing a path of fire from her ear to her collarbone. "The thought of anyone else even breathing your air makes me lose my mind. I need you to feel me. Only me."
He captured her lips in a kiss that was deep and hungry, a silent claim of everything she was. It wasn't gentle; it was a demand. His hands moved with a restless, possessive energy, tracing the curves he knew belonged solely to him.
Yeorim let out a soft moan, her head falling back as she surrendered to the intensity of his touch. In this space, with the world locked outside, his darkness felt like the only thing keeping her grounded.
Tell me," he demanded against her skin, his breath hot and ragged. "Who owns your heart? Who owns every breath you take?"
You," she choked out, her voice thick with desire. "Always you, Hajun."
He pulled back just an inch, his eyes burning with a dark, satisfied triumph. "Good. Because I'm never letting you go."
Claiming the Dark
Hajun’s jealousy doesn't fade; it simmers until it boils over. Back at the penthouse, the air is thick with the scent of rain and expensive whiskey. He doesn't want to talk about the man at the gala. He wants to erase him.
hajun
Hajun: Stop pacing. Come here.
yeorim
Yeorim: You’re still angry. I can feel it from here.
hajun
Hajun: I’m not angry, Yeorim. I’m hungry. There’s a difference.
yeorim
Yeorim: You’re staring at me like you want to break me.
hajun
Hajun: No. I want to consume you. Walk over here before I come and get you. You won’t like the way I carry you if I have to come get you.
[The Scene: The Bed]
Hajun didn't wait for her to reach him. He met her halfway, his hand sliding into her hair to tilt her head back with a firm, possessive jerk. He kissed her with a raw, bruising intensity that tasted of wine and desperation.
He moved her toward the bed, his movements heavy and deliberate. He stripped away the silk of her dress with a rough impatience, his eyes dark as they tracked every inch of skin he uncovered. When she was finally beneath him, the weight of his body felt like a physical brand.
"Look at me," he commanded, pinning her wrists above her head with a single hand. His grip was like iron—unyielding and dominant. "I want you to remember this feeling. The way I take you. The way you only move for me."
The intimacy was fierce and unfiltered. Every touch from Hajun was a claim, his hands roaming her body with a feverish, rough-hewn worship. He wasn't gentle; he moved with a primal rhythm that demanded she feel every ounce of his obsession.
Yeorim arched against him, her breath hitching into ragged gasps as he bit softly at the sensitive skin of her shoulder, marking her as his. The friction between them was a spark that turned into an inferno. She felt completely overtaken, lost in the sheer scale of his need for her.
You're mine," he growled against her lips, his voice a low, guttural vibration that shook her to her core. "Say it while I’m inside your head. Say it while I’m the only thing you can feel."
I'm yours, Hajun... please..." she sobbed out, her body trembling under the weight of his relentless possession.
He didn't stop until she was breathless, her skin flushed and her eyes glazed with the realization that she was, and would always be, completely his. He collapsed against her, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her own, his arms locking around her in a hold that promised he would never, ever let go.
the choice in the dark
Hajun didn't flinch. He didn't even look at Minho. His eyes were fixed solely on Yeorim. He looked cold, dangerous, and entirely unbothered by the police officers behind him.
Yeorim," Hajun said, his voice a low, commanding velvet. "The officers are here to 'save' you. You can walk out that door right now. You can go back to your 'friends,' your little cafe dates, and your quiet life."
He took a slow step toward her, ignoring the officer who reached for his holster. He stopped just inches from her, his scent—cedarwood and power—enveloping her. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over her ear so only she could hear.
But we both know you’ll be bored within a week," he whispered, his hand sliding into her hair, his grip firm and possessive even in front of the law. "You’ve tasted what it’s like to be truly wanted. To be worshipped. To be mine. Do you really want to go back to being ordinary?"
The lead officer stepped forward. "Miss? Is he holding you here against your will? Just say the word."
The room went dead silent. Minho reached out his hand to her. "Come on, Yeorim. Let’s get you away from him."
Yeorim looked at Minho’s hand—safe, gentle, and dull. Then she looked at Hajun. His eyes were dark, burning with a silent, desperate demand. He wasn't asking; he was daring her to leave. He was telling her that if she walked out, he would never chase her again.
Yeorim felt the weight of the marks on her skin, the memory of his rough touch from the night before still vibrating through her nerves.
She took a step... and leaned her head against Hajun’s chest.
I'm fine," she said, her voice steady as she looked the officer in the eye. "My husband and I just wanted some privacy. Please leave."
[The Aftermath: The Locked Door]
The moment the door clicked shut and the elevator descended, Hajun didn't offer a "thank you." He grabbed Yeorim by the waist and slammed her back against the door she had just refused to leave through.
His kiss was more than intimate—it was violent, a collision of relief and renewed possession. He hoisted her up, his hands digging into her skin.
Good choice," he growled against her mouth, his breath ragged. "Because if you had reached for his hand, I would have killed him right in front of you."
He carried her back toward the bedroom, the "Golden Cage" now locked from the inside.
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