backstage, baby โ
written for ๐๐๐ ๐ฌ๐จ๐ฃ๐ข๐ง (@lgcsoji) โก
hanbin doesn't even like this kind of thing, whatever this is. flashing lights, champagne in glass flutes that taste cheap, too many photographers pretending not to stare at his legs when he walks past in shorts that should've never made it out of the closet. some brand launch, some artsy label, some side project sojin's name is slapped onto in chrome cursive. it's too loud. too curated. too not-them. but hanbin's here anyway, chewing on the end of a plastic stirrer with his lip gloss smudged and his patience thinner than the mesh on his top.
because sojin asked. because he caved in when sojin said please.because he wore the cologne hanbin bought him last month, like it's a secret only they know.
now they're tucked behind a blackout curtain near the back of the venue, right where the stage lights don't reach, but they can still hear the party commotion. it's risque. this is them. hanbin's thighs are hitched around sojin's hips, the cold press of concrete against his spine making his breath catch in little hiccuping exhales between kisses. one of sojin's hands fists in his hair, the other dangerously low, steadying him like they haven't done this a hundred times before. hanbin makes a sound (half-laugh, half-moan) as sojin bites at his jaw.
"you're gonna smudge my lip liner," hanbin mumbles, voice all sugary bite, but he's already pulling him in again, chasing the taste of champagne and cologne and boyish recklessness like he's starving. he's not even looking at the event anymore. doesn't care that his pass is hanging off one ear or that sojin's phone is buzzing in his back pocket with his PR manager disaster.
"you know they're gonna ask where you went," he hums, brushing his mouth along sojin's. "you better come up with something that doesn't include me sucking your soul out in the vip utility hallway." his grin sharpens. dimples and all. "unless that's part of the sponsorship too. bring a cute boy along... i don't mind being used..."
