tea

he's gorgeous.

that's the first thought that came to mind as you and your friend, wooyoung, nudged each other behind the railing. mingi was only a few feet away, smiling at another fan who was getting him to sign their album. and you just couldn’t help but stare.

short bubblegum pink hair, black-out shades perched on his straight nose, plush lips pulled into an easy grin. he looked better than any of the pictures you’d seen online, flushed and too eager to meet people he’d never see again.

but your phone was out of battery, and you had no idea what to do when you got your very own three-second interaction.

it was too late to come up with something, though. wooyoung was already handing him a poster to sign, camera in his face, gushing about how cool he was on stage. the taller man smiled, only glancing at wooyoung and muttering a quick 'thanks for coming'.

now, it was your turn and you had absolutely nothing to offer him. your poster was too deep in your friend's bag to fish out, your albums were at home, and he couldn't take a selfie on your dead phone.

so you gripped onto the metal railing right in front of you and settled for: "hi, mingi, what's your favorite song to perform?"

he was on autopilot, his hand out and awaiting the item you'd surely want autographed. but your question broke him out of his automaticity, "autobahn. you don't have anything for me?"

embarrassment made your heart squeeze as he really stared at you, his eyes tracing curiously over your features. "no, i'm sorry. my phone died, and i don't have an album or anything."

he laughed. the breathy sound was a dizzying contrast to... everything. the heavy eyeliner around his eyes, the thick rings on his hands, his intense gaze. "don't apologize, beautiful. what's your name?"

you introduced yourself and felt your pulse quicken as he started to sign other items and take selfies. but his attention was on you.

"that's really pretty," he hummed, taking yet another glance at you, "is this your first time?"

"no," you answered too quickly, "i came here with my ex-boyfriend last tour. we broke up during the concert, actually."

the fans around you laughed amongst themselves, and you wanted the earth to swallow you whole after such a random response. it didn't help that he was so close you could smell his cologne.

"seriously?" he asked, laughing alongside the crowd behind you. "bet you were out of his league anyway. i did you a favor."

he handed a plushie back to a fan behind you before putting his hand out for you to take. you hesitated, so he insisted, "let me see your hand."

you were quick to comply with his spoken command; he quietly repeated your name to himself, "here. hopefully this was a better experience than last time. thank you for coming."

your eyes widened as he placed one of his rings on the palm of your hand. people gasped in awe, some even shoving others to take a look. but he had already moved onto the next area of fans before you could even thank him back.

after making it out of the hell that was the parking garage, wooyoung insisted that you keep the ‘party’ going. it was the first time you’d found an excuse to wear your new heels out, and it would’ve been a waste not to show them off, in his words. perhaps you were too easily convinced by the man at the steering wheel, because soon enough, he was on your arm, guiding you into a high-end bar.

the inside was barely lit by flashing red lights, sticky floors testing the soles of your pumps as you maneuvered through the crowd. music was blasting, something sultry and vaguely recognizable, interrupted by the dj’s unnecessary adlibs. but the drunk crowd was moving like that was their favorite song, and you couldn’t help but sway to the beat as you walked past the outskirts of the dance floor to the bar.

"dude, he totally wanted you," wooyoung said loudly as he propped you up on a barstool, practically closing you into the bar itself with how close he leaned in, "i even got a video of him talking to you, and he's literally looking at you like the rest of us weren't even there."

"stop," you whined, embarrassed by his wild conclusions, mouth moving right next to his ear. "it's just fan service."

he pulled back just enough to level you with a stare that said come on.

"well, he'd definitely service you— oh, my god. oh… my… god," his words tapered off into giggles as he looked past you.

you turned to the side, thinking there'd be somebody throwing up or naked on the dance floor, only to see mingi nearing the bar.

"no fucking way," you muttered, turning back towards your friend when you accidentally made eye contact. you shared a few moments of unintelligible rambling before he approached the two of you, entourage forgotten somewhere behind him.

“small world,” he said over the music, sparing wooyoung a warm smile before zeroing in on you, “you should join my section.”

that could not be real. he could not possibly be real. he had changed out of his performance outfit, and he somehow looked even hotter. various bulky silver chains were replaced by a simple thin one, tailored pants replaced by worn black denim. the adrenaline-boosted smile he wore not even an hour ago was something simpler. realer. just as heart-wrenching, if not more.

the insistent poking at your ribs reminded you that you needed to respond. you glanced over at wooyoung, who nodded enthusiastically. but you couldn’t just leave him behind. not after he’d bought the tickets. he'd driven you there. paid for parking and the skirt you were wearing. you’d kiss him, if he weren't… well, wooyoung.

“only if there’s enough room for both of us,” you pulled your friend closer by his arm, mustering up your most convincing smile.

mingi hummed at the request, not even thinking it over before nodding, “there’s plenty. tell the guard by the elevator you’re with joong, he’ll let you in. meet me on the top floor.”

an elevator ride later, you strutted onto the nightclub’s rooftop. it was louder than you expected, sparkly faces scattered throughout the area, bodies swaying to the music spilling from the speakers near the dj booth. a handsome man spun the discs, one hand pressing a headphone to his ear as a few pretty girls climbed onto the table next to him. 

“look where you got us,” wooyoung exclaimed right next to your ear, arm linked with yours, “want a drink?”

“i’m trying to stay sober tonight,” you replied, loosening your hold on him as he glanced behind you. 

you felt it too. the intense stare digging into your back, the approach to come.

“i’d say you’re no fun, but i think this’ll be a night to remember. good luck,” he responded, gifting you a wink before threading through the crowd.

only a few seconds passed before a hand ghosted the small of your back. you jolted, head whipping to the side to meet mingi’s gaze. the view was surreal, colored neon lights accentuating his playful expression and the curious glint he couldn’t quite hide.

he said nothing, removing his right hand from your back to put it out for the second time that night. he expected you to take it. you did, relishing in the triumphant smile that pulled at his lips as he guided you through the sea of people, nodding in response to greetings and congratulations thrown his way.

he opened the door to a private room, gesturing at the guard before nodding his head toward the open space, “i want you to myself for a little. is that okay?”

it didn’t take another word before you were stepping inside, settling onto the couch as he dimmed the lights.

"so," he began after sitting beside you, stretching his long legs under the center table. the material of his pants brushed against your bare skin, but he didn’t move as he spoke, "fate?"

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling all kinds of emotions running through your veins as he held your gaze under the dim blue lighting. the music from outside poured in softly, the shadow of his idling guard visible through the privacy glass of the door.

"maybe," you replied, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

his strong hands took the jug of water from the center table and served two cups of it. he lifted one of the glasses to his lips, took a sip, and cleared his throat. "tell me about your ex. i've never heard of someone being broken up with during my shows."

you relaxed slightly, repeating to yourself that he was just another person. just another man. "right, well... we weren't together long. but he wouldn't let me go to your show with a friend because he said that'd be cheating. you were his favorite artist, so he invited himself. he decided that cheering for you was also cheating. long story short, he broke up with me, and he left before the show was over."

he exhaled amusedly in response, sensing your nerves and feeding off of your attention. his eyes focused on his ring around your middle finger. a disapproving scoff filled the air, "he didn't even let me finish? what an asshole. sorry he ruined that for you."

you shook your head, taking a sip of water as he processed the story.

"so you came to this show with a secure guy at home?" he asked tentatively, watching you carefully as you set your cup down. “or is that guy with you your boyfriend?”

"no, i’m single," you corrected, "i'd rather scream for you comfortably."

your odd choice of words was out before you could take them back, and they made him snort, "that's what i like to hear."

in a blur, you end up completely bare, face pressing against a pillow at a luxurious hotel a few minutes from the bar. there’s lip gloss smudged across your chin, surely staining the cotton beneath you, but you can't even pretend to care as mingi traces the arch of your back with a firm thumb.

"look at that," he groans to himself, biting down on his kiss-swollen lips, "baby, you're soaked."

the line he traces down your back encourages you to arch deeper, more desperate for a rewarding touch. "mingi," you complain, the cold breeze from the air conditioning making your craving for his warmth even stronger.

he shushes you, leaning over to press a kiss on your shoulder, "i know. i feel you pushing back on me.”

"then do something,” you plead, bending even further as his woody scent hits your nose. he’s so close you could count his eyelashes, and the thought makes you clench.

he barely suppresses a moan at your desperation, one arm wrapping around your front to support your weight, "spread your legs a little more f'me."

you do as you're told, mind clouded with need, and he placates you by sliding himself between your folds. you tense when his tip brushes on your clit, and he makes it his mission to do the same thing a few more times, until you're moaning in his hold.

slick sounds of the motion fill the room and he shudders, watching the side of your face and taking pleasure from seeing the way your brows furrow as your eyes fall shut.

but he stops abruptly when you choke on a whine, hands steadying on your waist and voice right next to your ear, "gotta see you. i'm gonna turn you over."

he adjusts a pillow under you before flipping you onto your back. there’s not enough time to respond as he leans down for a heated kiss. his plush lips are slightly chapped, moving against yours as if he’s been waiting decades for the chance to kiss you again. the movements are more sure than the ones in the club room, like he’s fully decided that this is right. that the best choice had really been offering you the privacy of a hotel room.

it’s a confident exchange, messy but precise, the goal clear for the night. you inhale sharply when he swipes a thumb over your hardened nipple, he groans when you nip at his bottom lip in response.

“want me to finger you or somethin’?” he asks in a rush against your open mouth when you start pushing your hips closer to his, “i don’t wanna hurt you.”

against your better judgment, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, “just fuck me.”

his eyes widen in a mix of amusement and desire, “okay, but let me know if—“

“—i can take it, mingi, please,” you insist, heels digging into his back to push him closer.

the movement encourages the length of him to lie right over your stomach, stopping just below your belly button. the view punches a shaky breath out of his lungs, and his demeanor shifts, “of course you can.” he makes a show of licking his ring and middle fingers and slipping his hand between your legs, circling your clit with ease, “bet i could slip right in, hm? so fucking needy, i love it.”

he’s immediately proven right when you use your own hand to guide him into you. he shudders in surprise, a cute smile gracing his face. he doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want, slowly pressing into you.

each torturous inch forces your body to intake a heavy breath. he’s bigger than anyone you had taken before, the stretch making your body twitch in small movements away from him. but he’s not allowing you to escape, one hand holding your hip down while another spreads you open for him.

his eyes follow the tilt of your head, and he takes advantage of the view by pressing open-mouthed kisses right under your jaw. his nose presses against your neck, and he moans in harmony with you as he bottoms out, “fuck, you’re so sexy. you okay?”

“mingi, move,” you take a steadying deep breath, the fullness satisfying but not nearly enough. he laughs softly at your words, nipping at your neck before straightening up.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he replies, digging his knees into the mattress and pinning your wrists above you.

your mind can barely register the way he invades your senses. you can see he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, his jaw slack as he pistons into you.

you can feel the hand on your wrists tightening periodically, his other hand busy playing with your clit.

you can hear him moaning your name in that voice you had listened to thousands of times over in your favorite songs.

the voice you’d many times played at night when you just couldn’t sleep and your body needed release. he’d led you there, in your fantasies, and you’d apologized to him in your mind afterwards. and now he’s panting above you, dick twitching inside you when your palm pushes down where you can feel him.

he’s fucking into you desperately, exploring you with his gaze as if he’s trying to mentally map out all the places he’s going to claim for himself. he’s not holding back how aroused he is, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth as he whines a breathy, “c’mon, fuck me back, baby.”

“so good, min, ‘m close,” you tremble with effort as you move your hips to meet his thrusts, moaning when his clouded eyes snap up to your face.

the hotel bed creaks with your effort and he nods enthusiastically, a wild smile gracing his face. his thumb on your clit is still drawing jumbled patterns as he gears all his focus into making you reach your high, “i know— shit, i know, you’re clenching like crazy. wish you could see how pretty you look right now. yeah, taking me like you own me.”

he’s rambling, completely dazed as he studies your features with lust in its purest form, “bet you’ve thought about this before. your ex was right, getting jealous over me.” he pauses, releasing your hands and adjusting the pillow under you to angle himself even deeper, “imagine what he’d think, seeing us like this.”

the muscles of your thigh stretch deliciously as he uses his free hand to fold one of your legs closer to your chest. your jaw drops in a low moan, hands instinctively clawing at his shoulders and he exhales sharply, head dipping forward, “did you fuck him like this?” his voice turns into a whimper when you shake your head, “he didn’t deserve it. you sound so pretty, fuck, i could put you on a track and listen for hours.”

his voice vibrating right over your face is enough to push you over the edge. he doesn’t let up on your clit, rubbing it messily until you push his ringed hand away. 

“i know, baby, i‘m sorry. just a lil’ more, yeah?” he insists, groaning when you grab him roughly by the base of his neck and pull him down for a sloppy kiss. the tight squeeze and the lick of your tongue against his lips send a jolt of heat down his spine, and he follows right behind you, breaking away from the kiss just in time to pull out and release over your lower abdomen and inner thighs.

an unintelligible curse word drops from mingi's lips as he controls his breathing, watching his cum drip all over your skin.

you take a few moments to gather yourself, head tilted back to stop yourself from finishing again just from the sight in front of you: your idol panting like a dog, the flustered red skin of his pelvis slick with your arousal.

he was yours, for that moment in time. the bruises on your neck were a better keepsake than a signature on his latest album.

cotton sheets rustle underneath you, coaxing your eyes open as he moves back to lie down onto his stomach. his eyes are trained onto your face as you push yourself up by your elbows, his ringed fingers gently pushing your knees apart, “feeling good?”

“yes. thank you,” you instinctively reach down to rake your hands through his short hair. your new ring glistens in the warm light emitted by the hotel lamp.

he grins innocently at your touch as if he’s not hardening against the sheets. his hand massages the untainted flesh of your leg, hot tongue brushing against your inner thigh as he cleans up the mix of your arousals with a moan, “don’t thank me yet. you can give me one more, right?” 

[the texts you wake up to, 9:43 AM]

| unknown number: sorry about leaving you, i had a flight to catch | unknown number: but the room’s booked for another day and your ride home is paid for | unknown number: i’ll lyk when i’m in town again :) free tickets and maybe a backstage pass if you’re down?

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