You were hosting SNL that week, but this wasn’t the first time you’d been here. You’d known Colin for a while - mutual friends, a few parties, the occasional long conversation that drifted dangerously into flirty territory. You knew about him and Scarlett and their open marriage. He’d told you himself one late night at an afterparty, smirking over his drink like it was the kind of secret he enjoyed letting slip from time to time.

So when you caught him watching you from the other side of the stage during rehearsal that week - really watching - you knew exactly what game he was playing.

Saturday night was a blur of quick costume changes, stage cues, sketches flying by. But somewhere between your monologue and the last pre-Weekend Update sketch, you found yourself backstage near the lighting rigs. Backstage was electric - you loved being here on show night. The air was hot from stage lights, humming from live camera feeds, vibrating with the constant movement of both cast and crew weaving around each other seamlessly. 

Colin was on his way to the desk, walking with that easy confidence. But the moment his eyes landed on you, his expression sharpened. Not just noticing, not just watching anymore - hunting.

He passed close enough that his fingers skimmed your hip, disguised as adjusting his jacket. His voice dipped just enough for a whisper that only you could hear.

“Come with me.”

Before you could ask what the hell he meant, he was walking away, his hand sliding over the small of your back in a way no one could see. His other hand found your wrist and pulled you towards the narrow space behind the Weekend Update set - hidden from cameras, but not the crew if they happened to glance this way.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, trying to keep your voice down.

He crowded you against the wall of the set, the smell of expensive cologne filling your head. “You look too good to leave standing there all alone.”

“Colin- there are people everywhere. Cameras-“

“Exactly,” his hand slid down your hip, fingers pushing under the hem of your dress. “So you’re gonna be quiet, aren’t you?”

You should have said no. You should have shoved him away. Instead, you let your back hit the wall, and your gasp was swallowed by his mouth meeting yours. His kiss was fast, hard, filthy - teeth scraping your lip as his fingers hooked into your panties. He pulled them down just far enough.

“Colin- someone might-“

“They’re busy,” he cut you off, pulling himself free and pressing the thick length of him against your slit. “They won’t come looking. And they won’t hear you… unless you want them to.”

Before you could protest, he shoved your dress right up around your hips, and with one brutal thrust, he was inside you. The force of it made the set wall creek behind you. You gasped, clutching his jacket and biting your lip hard to keep from making a sound.

“Shhh,” he breathed against you. “Don’t ruin their segment.”

Out in the studio, you could hear Kenan delivering a joke. Laughter erupted from the audience. The sound masked the quiet, obscene slap of skin against skin as Colin began to move ruthlessly inside you - slow at first, then rougher, and faster.

Every time the audience laughed, he fucked you harder. Every time the cameras panned, he pressed deeper, grinding into you like he wanted nothing more than to break you.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your throat. “You scared they’ll see?”

You managed a tiny nod.

“Good,” he smirked. “That’ll make you come faster.”

His grip tightened around your throat just enough to make your head swim, the risk, the heat, the wrongness of it all winding you tighter. You could hear the floor manager giving the cue for the next segment.

“Look at me,” he ordered. When you hesitated, he grabbed your chin forcing your eyes to his. “When I’m fucking you, you don’t look anywhere else.”

Your vision blurred - half from the pounding rhythm, half from the adrenaline of knowing a single misplaced camera pan, someone accidentally switching on his microphone a few seconds too early - would destroy you both.

The sound of the countdown to Weekend Update bled into the rush in your ears.

Colin’s voice was rough now, words spilling out between clenched teeth. “I’m not done with you. You’re gonna take every second until they call my name.”

And you did - grinding against him, matching the push of his hips, swallowing every groan and curse he let slip. Your body was hot, aching, on the edge.

The combination of his words, the danger of the crew being mere feet away, and the pounding rhythm of him fucking you against the set pushed you over the edge. You came hard, your mouth opening in a silent scream, your body clenching around him.

He groaned low, burying himself deep and spilling inside you, holding you there until you felt the heat of it leak down your thighs.

Finally, the floor manager’s voice cut through the chaos: “And now… it’s time for Weekend Update with Colin Jost and Michael Che.”

Colin stilled inside you, holding you there for one suspended heartbeat - just to make sure you knew he was still in control. Then he pulled out, tucking himself back into his pants with infuriating composure.

He straightened his tie and smirked down at you - still pressed to the wall, panties around your knees, dress bunched up, trembling.

“Don’t move. I’m coming back for you.”