Dimmed Lights, page 12
part #3 of On Stage Trilogy Series
Look, I was so out of it that I didn’t even realize he had gotten rid of our clothes—well, yanked the sweatpants half-way down—before his way too big and bare dick first pressed against my lower back and then slid down my ass crack. I shot him a panicked look, petrified—he wasn’t going to fuck me, was he? I mean…one would think it would take a little more warming up to fit that monstrously large cock anywhere near anyone's asshole. Let alone mine.
“Oh relax, I’m not gonna fuck you against the bathroom sink...however tempting it sounds,” he said and winked.
My cheeks heated up again. I was horny as fuck. And seeing him watch me and stroke my dick, didn’t help it. Frankly, I was more turned on than I had been in my entire life, a total moaning mess. My dick leaked, dripping some pre-cum to the floor and Joe’s hand as he worked me all the way to the very edge.
And then he stopped.
My eyes flashed to his immediately, only to see him smirk against his thumb he was coating with saliva. My eyebrows scrunched at that as I wondered what the fuck was going on but got distracted again as he continued stroking my dick.
I found out what was going on soon enough. Right at the moment when the gigantic dick in my ass-crack got replaced with the previously mentioned saliva-coated thumb. Which suddenly pressed against my hole. Effectively making me suck in a sharp breath through my teeth as I froze, and my heart stopped. Again.
I mean…can a guy just relax every once in a while and enjoy a perfectly good handjob without all these extra surprises?
The shock only lasted for a second though, before I relaxed and realized just how good it felt. The way he started teasing my pucker, sometimes circling it and other times pressing against it slightly, slowly driving me back to the brink of insanity. Soon, he coaxed just the tip of the finger inside, but I barely even noticed because he stroked my dick at the same time.
And like that, distracting me enough while letting me adjust at my own pace, he had worked the entire finger inside. Oh yes, he was that good. It didn’t even hurt one bit. If it had an effect, his finger inside my ass only made me grind against him harder, as I found myself wanting more.
So there I was, thoroughly turned on beyond my wildest imaginations, panting heavily while leaning against the sink with my arms, barely keeping myself standing. I was still staring at my own heated face in the mirror, Joe’s one hand wrapped around my dick while his other hand was busy with my asshole.
And as I was staring at my face, no longer intimidated by it, I realized something important, even through the lustful and hazy state of mind. It was the fact that the face beyond the scars was still mine. I was still me. With or without the scars.
And I was fucking beautiful.
My legs buckled as I reached the climax and released a huge load on Joe’s hand. I could no longer stand. Or keep my eyes open. Didn’t matter though, because I fell right into Joe’s embrace.
Only barely, I was able to register the sound of the tap running and Joe washing his hands, before he grabbed the towel, dried up his hands before cleaning the mess on me. Throughout the whole ordeal, I could only lean against him just as limp as my dick, hardly even conscious, when he got rid of our remaining clothing.
Joe dragged me to the bed and tucked us both in. I curled against his side and laid my head against his chest. I accidentally touched his still rock-hard dick, but even the guilt of leaving him hanging on edge like that couldn’t pull me up from the pure exhaustion.
Seemed like Joe surely knew how to effectively distract me. Not that I’d complain. I’d take a nice handjob a thousand times rather than agonizing about tomorrow’s outcome.
Or the usual nightmares.
Love Song
Now, who was the idiot that decided that day had to be a day off? It must’ve been Minjae or Do-hyun. Yes, definitely it had been one of them. Or both. Ah, yes, it was Do-hyun who had argued that they needed time to pack their shit, but who the fuck takes a whole-ass day to pack for a few days trip to the US? I bet they were just fucking around in their new and just renovated home. Like rabbits.
I would much rather have tortured myself at some last-minute rehearsals or something, instead of this ‘staring at the phone that never rang or made any kind of noise whatsoever now that I wanted it to’ thing. It was mind-numbing, to say the least. It was like waiting for a date to reply to a message but so much worse.
Of course, I could’ve packed, too. But I definitely wasn’t going to do that before I’d know for sure I was going to the Billboards in the first place. And Jae-beom was surely taking his time with the negotiations; it was already late in the afternoon.
“So, can you really play that thing?” Joe asked from the doorway to the living room, yanking me back to reality.
Blinking a couple of times, I looked at his questioning face for a second, dumbfounded. Well, until I realized that by “that thing,” he meant the acoustic guitar that had been laid on my lap that I had been plucking at earlier. “Yeah, I guess I can play some. Why?”
“Ha, you’ve only been staring ahead for the past ten minutes. Why don’t you actually play something while you’re at it?”
I glanced down at the guitar and then back to Joe. “Well, what do you want me to play?”
A smirk flashed by his face. “Free bird. That’s what every guitarist has to learn, right?”
Hmph. Of all the things he could’ve heard me play, he chose freaking “Free Bird?” What a pathetic cliché. Or an attempt to catch me off guard. Too bad he didn’t know I had a thing for 70’s and 80’s rock.
Not even paying much attention, I plucked away the first few bars of the famous guitar solo.
“Happy?”
“Very,” he said, flopping down to loiter on the other end of the couch. “Play more.”
I played a couple more things off the top of my head, grateful for any kind of distraction. It wasn’t the perfect medley by any means, but Joe would’ve never caught what I played wrong anyway, so it didn’t really matter. People who didn’t have the slightest idea about playing guitar were so easy to impress.
It didn’t serve as a long-term distraction though, unfortunately. Soon, I found myself eyeing the phone all over again. I mean, the meeting between Jae-beom and whoever was representing that stupid fucking Min-ho, should’ve started like a few hours ago. How long can settling this thing really take? The guy had tried to kill us, for fuck’s sake.
Joe noticed something was wrong, too. He always did.
“You’re still not going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
It was the same question he had been tossing around for the last couple of days. Again, he was reading me like I was a newspaper, and it bugged me out. Made it hard to keep secrets too, that’s for sure.
“Nope,” I replied...eventually.
“Technically, you are required to tell me. According to the contract.”
“Only if it’s something that might put me in physical danger,” I countered, shrugging. “This isn’t anything like that.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because last time I saw you this antsy, you went on a suicide mission with the Lamborghini.”
“Oh, come on, that was one time,” I huffed. “Besides, weren’t you supposed to make us dinner?”
“Yeah, that was before you started serenading me. So please, continue,” he said, gently nudging my thigh with his foot.
My blood pressure rose to a whole new level in a record time. Who the hell did he think he was? A douche, that’s what he was.
“Hmph, well here’s a fucking real serenade for you,” I said, thought of the most basic chord progression and started strumming the guitar, shouting the first words that came to mind to his face.
Go away,
I can’t stand you anymore, you are an eyesore
There is the door, and furthermore
I don’t need no golden retriever or labrador
Strumming the easiest chords known to human history once more for four more bars, I concluded the “song,” set the guitar down, and stood up. Unfortunately, I didn’t get very far before Joe grabbed my waist and yanked me back to the couch—or rather, to sit on his lap.
“Aww, how cute. You made a song for me.”
“Piss off,” I said, struggling in his embrace, having little to no success.
I gave up, going limp against his chest and let his enticing scent drug me to complete distraction once again. What was the point of resisting him when I knew I stood no chance anyway? Hoping he’d grow tired of me, I slumped further down.
But instead of getting tired of me, Joe took his opportunity and nuzzled his face against my neck and slid his hands towards my crotch. The irritation was replaced with arousal, and I let out a shaky breath when his warm lips found the magic spot on the nook of my neck.
I was growing extremely tired of not having any control whatsoever over my own body. “What exactly do you want from me, Joe?”
“Oh, you know what I want,” Joe muttered against my skin. “The one thing I will want until you give in. It’s not like we haven’t done it before. I promise you won't regret it this time.”
“I didn’t regret it last time.”
“Then what’s the matter? Just let me fuck you. I know we both want it.”
I froze. It was the first time he had actually said it out loud, in so many words. And how tempting it sounded, when murmured softly to my ear while his hands were wandering to some highly sensitive places at the same time. I all but melted against him, so damn tempted to give in.
Honestly, it was the hardest thing for me to resist at this point. Let’s face it; the ultimate truth was: I would’ve given up ages ago if I wasn’t used to being so stubborn. Or if I didn’t know what I did, based on last time—that he was a total fuckboy. A good fuckboy, but a fuckboy, nevertheless. I was only going to burn my fingertips by playing with fire and I knew it.
But my time together with Joe up in the mountains was coming to its end, rapidly. If I was lucky, we’d be heading to the Billboards the very next day, and then we’d be on tour throughout the whole summer. Not that I wouldn’t see Joe, but we wouldn’t be able to spend as much time alone, so I predicted that night might be the last chance if I was going to give in and let him have his way.
If only he’d stop asking for stupid permissions and fuck me already, this would be so much easier. But of course, that wasn’t something I would say out loud in a million years. Yet, it was exactly what Joe wanted, and I knew he wouldn’t act before getting that damn consent from me.
“That monstrous cock of yours ain’t going anywhere near my asshole,” I said and regret set in. It was, again, the complete opposite of what I actually thought, but at the same time, I wasn’t brave enough to take it back.
Joe, however, laughed. “Good thing you remember I top.”
Hmph, was there ever even a chance for other options? Though now that I thought of it, maybe it wouldn’t be such a huge deal if it were the other way around.
“Well, now that you said it... it would make a lot more sense if I top. We both know lil Chris is way more reasonably sized—” I started but was cut off by the phone ringing on the table.
My heart stopped. No, scratch that, I think the entire world stopped. Except for the phone that buzzed against the table, Jae-beom’s name flashing on the screen, the annoying ringtone piercing my eardrums. For once, I forgot all about my internal struggles about having sex with Joe and scurried up.
But I couldn’t bring myself to take the phone in my hand and answer it. Terrified of hearing my sentence, I couldn’t move.
“Why’s Jae-beom calling you?” Joe asked, having taken a look on the screen, scrunching his eyebrows together. Then the realization hit him, visibly. “Oh is this what you’ve hidden from me? They still haven’t sorted out the charges against you?”
I shook my head, not being able to say it out loud.
Joe grabbed me into a hug. “Fuck, I’m so sorry…If I had known—”
I cleared my throat. “Err, do you mind?” I asked, nodding towards the kitchen. This was one of the discussions I really wanted to have in private. Totally alone. Thankfully Joe understood immediately like he always did and walked to the kitchen at once. I grabbed the phone, hands sweaty already, my heart about to jump out of my chest. I swiped the green icon to the side and lifted the phone up to my ear.
“Hello Jae-beom-nim. How did it go?”
Movie Incident
After the phone call, I sat on the couch for a long while, squeezing the device in my hand and staring ahead. What pissed me off the most, was the fact that the call was over in like…two whole seconds. Jae-beom had only said something along the lines of “congrats, you’re a free man now” with an extremely exhausted tone and hung up. I’d sweat over the whole thing for nothing. The entire day was wasted on agonizing over an absolutely non-existent threat. I hadn’t even packed.
What a fucking anticlimactic event. Not to even mention the fact that we were cockblocked by it.
Wait, what?
It wasn’t like I was upset because of that. Nope. It had nothing to do with the fact that this…thing…we had with Joe, was coming to an abrupt end. Even more surely than yesterday. Because it was now 100% sure I was going to the Billboards the next day, and this thing with Joe certainly wouldn’t last through that. Or touring. Or the time after that, when we’d be expected to move back to a dorm of some sort.
But none of those things were the reason why I was upset. They couldn’t be. Because I wanted to go to the Billboards—it had been my dream from the day I was scouted when I was 16. I wanted to tour. I wanted to get back to living in a dorm with the rest of the guys. I even dared to admit to myself that I missed them, more than anything.
Then why the fuck did my chest suddenly feel so tight as simple of a task as breathing became difficult?
I don’t know how long I sat there, trying to remember how to inhale and exhale like a normal person, but eventually, Joe informed me that the dinner was ready. We ate in a heavy silence that didn’t feel natural like it normally would’ve. Only the sound of the cutlery clanking against our plates filled the room.
Afterward, I helped Joe clean the kitchen. It had already become a habit—our own little routine. I’d handle the dishes and Joe would clean the table. I’d put the leftovers away while Joe would take out the trash…so on and so forth.
I had never really been one for these domestic types of things. I had never even considered I would enjoy doing something so simple, let alone the same thing every single day. Look, I had hardly stayed still enough for half of my life to develop habits of my own other than running most mornings, not to even mention forming mutual habits together with another person. Well, with the exception of the habits I had together with the rest of GRiD-dudes that I considered my extended family.
Yet, there I was, on the verge of losing my mind because I wouldn’t be able to continue doing this one habit I had accidentally formed with a man I hardly knew.
Pathetic.
What was even more pathetic, though, was the fact that in my weird state of mind, I had actually packed the leftovers to the fridge like any other day. As if we’d be here to eat them tomorrow. Ugh.
I didn’t quite manage to start emptying the fridge from stuff that would go bad in the next few days before Joe was already back.
“I’d guess the call didn’t go that well?” he said with a questioning tone.
Was it possible that he would be agonizing about our time coming to an end too? “What do you mean?”
“Did Jae-beom lose your case?”
Oh right, I hadn’t told him how it went. Of course, he wouldn’t want to be trapped with me for longer than absolutely necessary…what was I even thinking?
“No, it went well. We’re going to Billboards.” I said and offered him a slight smile that didn’t quite convince him.
He scrunched his eyebrows together, clearly baffled. “Then why are you upset?”
“I—I’m not. Look, can you empty the fridge?” I asked. “I should go pack.”
Trying to look indifferent about the whole thing, I stared at him back when he tried to read me with those almost hypnotizing gold-brown eyes of his. For once, he couldn’t figure it out, and I was finally able to breathe when he nodded and turned towards the fridge.
I all but dashed upstairs, then straight to my walk-in closet, closed the door behind me and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. My heart fluttered incredibly fast, and I clutched the front of my t-shirt in my fist tightly as if it would’ve helped anything.
Had I…caught feelings? When? HOW? Why?
I shook my head—no, that couldn’t be it. I was just caught up in the moment. Nothing less, nothing more. No need to over-complicate things. Besides, I should’ve focused on the task at hand—packing. Hyping myself up about getting to go to the Billboards, I finally managed to get my shit together and pull out a suitcase.
Now, our stage outfits had already been handled, so I only needed a suit for the gala, workout clothes for the rehearsals, and a few random outfits for the rest of the trip. The suit and the workout clothes were easy to pick, but I got somewhat stuck with the rest of them. My clothes could practically be all put into three piles—one for the ones I had ruined with my attempts at doing laundry, one for my own actual clothes, and one for the clothes that had been pre-approved and hand-picked by the stylists. They were supposed to compliment the image I once had. Basically, apart from the ruined pile, it was either band t-shirts paired with skinny jeans or some pretty disturbing pastel-colored cutesy shit I had worn before in public.
It felt like that cutie-pie person was dead, long-gone, and that life had been lived a thousand years ago. And it hadn’t been me in the first place. So, I muttered an almost inaudible “fuck it” and started to pack my normal clothes in the suitcase. The staff would have to suck it or start to style me with more of my own type of fashion.
