Chapter 10

The shoot was ongoing at a massive modern palace set. Jin had been busier than usual, spending the last two days at the location to avoid the long commute home. He planned to stay for nearly a week. Namjoon knew, of course, but that didn't stop him from missing Jin every second. He had resolved to visit Jin later that night, after university, and stay with him overnight.

The cast and crew were fully absorbed in the production. After completing a scene, the actors changed costumes while Jin stayed behind, reviewing the previous takes with the director. His focus was entirely on work, using it as a shield against the stress that lingered in his chest from the last few weeks.

Jin noticed Taeyeon struggling with heavy props and instinctively moved to help, despite Taeyeon's protests. In his effort to be useful, Jin didn't notice the edge of the steps when he carried the props. He tripped. The props fell on his leg, and he immediately felt sharp pain, followed by blood spreading across his jeans. Panic surged through him.

"Jin!" Taeyeon shouted, dropping everything and rushing to him. With the help of a few crew members, they carried him to the hospital. After examination, the doctor confirmed a deep cut and a fractured ankle. His leg was stitched, casted, and he was instructed to rest for two weeks.

"I'm so sorry, Taeyeon... I caused all this trouble," Jin said, his voice strained from both pain and guilt.

"Shh... forget that," Taeyeon said firmly. "The important thing is you rest now. I've already informed the director. No work until you're healed."

Jin tried to argue, insisting he could still assist on set, but Taeyeon refused. "No. You've done enough. Now you take care of yourself."

Meanwhile, Namjoon's phone buzzed. Jin's injury, news from the director—it only made him move faster. His was in worry as he drove to the hospital.

When he arrived, he found Taeyeon comforting Jin on the hospital bed. Without thinking, Namjoon's protective instincts snapped. The worry on his face before turned into fury. He pushed Taeyeon aside, grabbed him by the collar, and hissed, "How dare you touch my hyung?"

Jin's heart thumped in panic. "Namjoon! Stop! I'm fine! Please!"

"Never. Try. Again," Namjoon growled, shoving Taeyeon out and locking the door behind him. His gaze turned to Jin, sharp, smoldering, possessive.

Jin's anger and embarrassment mingled with fear. Namjoon leaned close, tilting Jin's face up. "Are you upset that I interrupted your precious moment with him?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes were dangerous.

"I... Namjoon, please—" Jin started, but Namjoon's patience had long evaporated. "If you want him that bad, why don't you do it with me hyung? I can give you everything," he whispered before pushing Jin gently onto the bed, his weight engulfing him.

Jin struggled, panic and frustration rising. He pushed hard. Namjoon's glare only deepened; he barely budged. Strong, unrelenting, he pinned Jin's wrists above his head.

Their lips met. Namjoon kissed aggressively, claiming Jin's soft lips with teeth and tongue drawing blood. Pain and desire intertwined. Jin bit back tears, trying to resist, but the broken leg made him helpless, physically unable to shift.

"This... this is your punishment for letting him come near you," Namjoon murmured, unbuttoning Jin's shirt slowly.

"Namjoon, please... next time I won't—please," Jin tried to plead, but Namjoon silenced him with another rough kiss.

Hickeys were left across Jin's neck and collarbones, marking him, claiming him, feeling content. Namjoon paused, watching the glassy tears in Jin's eyes. "You were made for me," he whispered, tracing Jin's body gently, mindful of the injury. Jin froze, too exhausted to resist anymore. The anger ebbed into a reluctant acceptance; he wasn't enjoying it, but he felt powerless to stop Namjoon's obsession.

Namjoon unzipped his pants and, placed his two fingers in Jin's mouth to wet them for the use. "I want to suck your huge cock but I'll save that for later," he murmured, before sliding his fingers slowly inside him down there. Jin gasped, pain shooting through him.

Namjoon's pace was careful at first, but soon his control faltered under his obsession and lust. Jin cried out, tears streaming, body trembling. Namjoon held him, whispering soothingly, "I won't hurt you if you behave well, hyung," even as he moved faster, each thrust claiming Jin's body.

When he finally came inside him, Jin was nearly unconscious. Namjoon stared, heart pounding, enthralled by the sight of Jin's fragile, marked form. But he became weak when he noticed Jin's face with tears streamed all over his face. Softly, he kissed his temple with heavy heart, cleaned him with warm towels, changed the bedsheets, and tucked him safely under the blankets.

Though Jin's cries and desperate pleas cut through the silence every time Namjoon forced himself on him, those sounds never stopped him in the moment. For Namjoon, claiming Jin—making him his and his alone—was always more important than the pain he caused. Yet afterward, when the heat of obsession dulled, he would feel a hollow ache in his chest. It hurt him to see Jin's tears, to know that he was the reason behind them. But that sorrow never changed the truth—he could never let Jin go. His love was possession, and even if it broke Jin, he believed it was the only way to keep him.

Each time, Namjoon kissed Jin's forehead—not just to comfort him, but to calm the ache in his own chest, as if that small act could absolve the cruelty he had just shown.

Namjoon's love was obsessive but protective. That night, when Jin shivered, fevered from both the strain and their previous intensity, Namjoon stayed awake. He applied cold towels, gave emergency tablets, and ensured Jin's comfort. Every motion was gentle; his obsession tempered by care.

In the morning, Jin woke weak but tolerable. Namjoon brought porridge, checked his temperature, and helped him bathe, despite Jin's protests. "I don't want to see you and don't touch me," he mumbled, voice hoarse.

"I'm not leaving you like this, you are mine to take care off," Namjoon replied softly, carrying him carefully, helping him dress. Jin still resisted internally, but the heat of fever, the soreness, and Namjoon's constant presence blurred his anger.

Breakfast passed quietly. Namjoon cleaned him, changed his clothes, and planned to take a leave to care for him tomorrow, making sure Jin's recovery was prioritized.

At night, after a light dinner, Namjoon cuddled Jin, kissing his forehead. Jin didn't protest, feeling a rare comfort in Namjoon's hold made him shiver, his warm, protective presence a balm against the pain and fear he'd felt the day before. Even amidst anger and frustration, there was a strange relief in Namjoon's obsession, a sense of being wholly seen and cared for—something Jin couldn't truly fight.