Work Text:
DK knew he was in trouble the second he pushed open the green room door. The air was thick with the scent of hairspray and something else, something electric and dangerous that had Seungkwan’s name all over it. He was already there, seated in front of the mirror, legs crossed, looking devastatingly sharp in his stage outfit. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, when they met DK’s in the reflection, were dark and smoldering. The stylists, sensing the shift in atmosphere, suddenly found their work incredibly fascinating.
The moment DK stepped inside, Seungkwan slowly turned his chair. The soft click of it locking into place sounded like a gunshot in the silent room.
“You’re twenty minutes late,” Seungkwan said. His voice wasn't angry. It was low, a velvet rumble that vibrated straight down DK’s spine and settled hot and heavy in his gut.
DK froze, his mouth suddenly dry. “I—sorry. Sorry, sorry.” He swallowed, the sound loud in his own ears. It was never good when Seungkwan got this quiet, this controlled. It meant a storm was brewing, and DK was standing right in its path.
“You’re not usually like this,” Seungkwan said, his tone flat, but his gaze was anything but. It was a physical touch, a possessive stroke over DK’s body that made him feel both exposed and desperate.
“I know, I’m really sorry—”
Seungkwan stood without another word, the movement fluid and predatory. He walked past DK, his shoulder brushing against DK’s chest with enough friction to make him shudder. “Let’s talk later.” The promise in those words was a threat and a tantalizing reward all at once.
“Seungkwannah—!” DK hurried after him, his voice a little breathless. “Please, I’m sorry. Please.”
What DK didn’t know was that Seungkwan had already bitten the inside of his cheek so hard it hurt—just to keep from smiling at the adorable, frantic look on his boyfriend’s face.
DK rushed ahead, blocking his path in the thankfully empty hallway. Panic was written all over his face, but there was a deeper hunger there too, a desperate need for forgiveness. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
Seungkwan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, the picture of cool authority. “Get down.”
DK didn’t even think. He immediately dropped to his knees on the hard floor, hands splayed out for balance, looking up at Seungkwan with wide, pleading eyes. The position was submissive, but the raw devotion in his gaze was a power all its own.
Silence.
The playful pretense vanished from Seungkwan’s mind, replaced by a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat. His eyes went wide, his breath hitching. “Hey—no, no, no!” He grabbed DK’s arm and hauled him up instantly, his grip tight. “Are you crazy? There are staff everywhere!” His voice was a harsh whisper, but the real message was in the fire blazing in his eyes.
DK looked genuinely distressed, his lower lip trembling slightly. “I just don’t want you to be mad.”
That look shattered the last of Seungkwan’s control. He sighed, a shaky sound, and dragged him by the hand into the first empty room he could find—a cramped storage closet—slamming and locking the door behind them. The small space was instantly filled with their panting breaths.
“Calm down,” Seungkwan commanded, but his voice was thick with desire.
But DK was already kneeling again, this time pressing close, his arms wrapping tightly around Seungkwan’s waist. He buried his face in Seungkwan’s stomach, his hot breath seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry, baby.” The words were a muffled, desperate prayer against his skin.
That was it. Seungkwan couldn’t hold it back anymore. He fisted his hands in DK’s hair, tilting his head back. The laughter that spilled out was low and husky, full of adoration and overwhelming want. “Okay, okay—stop. I was kidding.”
DK’s head snapped up, his eyes searching Seungkwan’s face. “Really?”
“Yes,” Seungkwan breathed, his thumb stroking over DK’s jawline. He was done playing games. “I was messing with you.”
Relief washed over DK’s face, quickly followed by a slow, knowing smirk. He saw the shift in Seungkwan, the way his pupils had blown wide, the way his lips were parted.
Seungkwan pulled him to his feet, their bodies colliding in the tight space. He didn’t give DK a soft, reassuring kiss. He crushed their mouths together, a hungry, punishing kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperate need. It tasted of forgiveness and possession. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” Seungkwan murmured against his lips, his hands roaming down DK’s back to grip his ass.
DK laughed, a low, rumbling sound that was swallowed by another searing kiss. The tension in his body melted, replaced by a raw, aching arousal. “You know… you can mess with me in other ways too.” He rolled his hips, letting Seungkwan feel exactly how much he wanted that.
Seungkwan’s head fell back against the door with a soft thud, a laugh escaping him as he stopped DK with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m your leader here, mister,” he said, still smiling. “We have work.”
DK grinned. “Sure, leader. I’ll do whatever you command.”
He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. It was an eternity. He looked back at DK, at the raw, open desire on his face.
“Then my command is—” Seungkwan’s voice was a dark, seductive whisper. He hauled DK impossibly closer, their foreheads pressed together. “Kiss me. Like you mean it.”
DK didn’t need to be told twice. He claimed Seungkwan’s mouth with a ferocity that stole the air from the room, his hands tangling in Seungkwan’s hair, holding him in place as he poured every ounce of his love and lust into the kiss. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a brand, a promise, a frantic, desperate claiming that left them both breathless and trembling against the door, with work and the outside world a million miles away.