The roar of the crowd was a living beast, a tidal wave of screams and chants that pulsed through the walls of the concert venue. Onstage, Minjun was a god—his sweat-slicked skin gleaming under the blinding spotlights, his voice a sultry growl that drove thousands into a frenzy. Every hip thrust, every smoldering glance into the audience, was a calculated strike, igniting pure chaos. But beneath the polished veneer of the idol persona, a different heat was simmering—one that had nothing to do with the performance and everything to do with the man standing just offstage, watching him with a smirk that could unravel him in seconds.
Sokmin leaned against a speaker rig in the wings, arms crossed, his dark eyes tracking Minjun’s every move. He was supposed to be managing the soundboard, but his focus was elsewhere—on the way Minjun’s tight leather pants clung to his thighs, on the way his damp hair fell into his eyes as he sang a particularly filthy lyric. Sokmin’s lips twitched into a grin. He knew exactly what he was doing to Minjun, and he reveled in it.
Minjun caught his gaze mid-chorus, and that was it—the final straw. His voice faltered for a split second, barely noticeable to the crowd but glaringly obvious to Sokmin, who raised a mocking eyebrow. Minjun’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t about to let Sokmin win this little game of silent torture. Not tonight.
Without warning, he ripped the mic from its stand, belted out the last line of the song, and tossed it to a stunned backup singer. The crowd erupted in confusion as he strode offstage mid-show, his boots echoing with purpose. Sokmin barely had time to react before Minjun’s hand clamped around his wrist, yanking him toward the backstage corridor.
“Are you insane?” Sokmin laughed, stumbling after him, his voice laced with mock disbelief. “You’ve got twenty thousand people out there losing their minds, and you’re pulling a diva exit for what? A quick bathroom break?”
Minjun didn’t slow down, his grip iron-tight as he dragged Sokmin past startled crew members and into the dimly lit sanctuary of his private dressing room. He slammed the door shut, the lock clicking with a finality that sent a shiver down Sokmin’s spine. The distant thrum of the crowd was still audible, a reminder of the chaos just beyond the thin walls, but in here, it was just them—and the electric tension crackling in the air.
Minjun turned, his chest heaving, his dark eyes blazing with a hunger that made Sokmin’s smirk falter for a heartbeat. “You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” Minjun growled, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Standing there, looking at me like that, knowing damn well what it does to me.”
Sokmin recovered quickly, tilting his head with a taunting grin. “Oh, sweetheart, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just doing my job. Watching the show. Admiring the view.” His eyes raked over Minjun deliberately, lingering on the way his shirt clung to his torso, damp with sweat. “And what a view it is.”
Minjun let out a sharp, humorless laugh, closing the distance between them in a single stride. He backed Sokmin against the vanity counter, the mirror reflecting their tangled silhouettes. “Keep playing innocent,” he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from Sokmin’s, his breath hot and ragged. “But we both know you’ve been begging for this all night.”
Sokmin’s hands slid up Minjun’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he arched an eyebrow. “Begging? Darling, I don’t beg. I command.” His voice dropped to a sultry purr, his grip tightening. “But if you’re so desperate to get out of those ridiculously tight pants, who am I to stop you?”
Minjun’s smirk was feral as he grabbed Sokmin’s hips, pulling him flush against him. “You’ve got a mouth on you, huh? Let’s see if it’s good for anything other than running.” Before Sokmin could fire back, Minjun crashed their lips together, the kiss raw and bruising, all teeth and desperation. Sokmin groaned into it, his hands sliding into Minjun’s hair, tugging just hard enough to make him hiss.
They stumbled against the counter, bottles of cologne and makeup brushes clattering to the floor, neither of them caring about the mess. The risk of being caught—by a manager, a crew member, hell, even a fan with a backstage pass—only fueled the fire. Every muffled shout from the crowd outside, every distant thud of bass, was a reminder of how forbidden this was, how reckless. And yet, neither could stop.
Sokmin broke the kiss just long enough to nip at Minjun’s jaw, his voice a wicked whisper. “You’re gonna have to explain this little stunt to your adoring fans, you know. What’s the excuse? ‘Sorry, folks, had to go fuck my boyfriend backstage’?”
Minjun chuckled darkly, his hands slipping under Sokmin’s shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. “They’d probably cheer louder if I told them the truth. But I’m not sharing you with anyone.” His fingers dug into Sokmin’s skin, possessive and urgent. “You’re mine.”
Sokmin’s eyes glinted with challenge as he shoved Minjun back a step, reversing their positions so Minjun was the one pinned against the counter. “Yours, huh? That’s cute. But let’s get one thing straight, pretty boy—I call the shots here.” He leaned in, his lips brushing Minjun’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “And right now, I’m telling you to shut up and take what I give you.”
Minjun’s breath hitched, but his grin was pure defiance. “Big talk for someone who’s already trembling under my touch.” His hand slid lower, teasing, and Sokmin’s sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation he needed.
The room was a haze of heat and whispered taunts, their banter a dance as intoxicating as the way their bodies moved together. Every touch was a claim, every word a spark, building toward an inevitable blaze. Outside, the crowd chanted Minjun’s name, oblivious to the storm unfolding just beyond their reach. But in here, the only sound that mattered was the ragged rhythm of their breaths, the unspoken promise that this was only the beginning of something untamable.
As Sokmin’s fingers worked at the buckle of Minjun’s belt with a deliberate slowness that was pure torture, he smirked, his voice dripping with control. “Better make this quick, superstar. You’ve got a show to finish—and I’m not done with you yet.”
Minjun’s laugh was low and dangerous, his eyes locked on Sokmin’s with an intensity that could burn the world down. “Oh, baby, I’m just getting started.”
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