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Chay never thought he could be jealous of a mic stand, but here he is.
Wik rolls his body against it as he sings. He keeps making eyes at his guitarist across the stage.
Heat rises in Chay’s tummy. His eyes drop to Wik’s tight leather pants.
There’s a bulge there—not big enough to be overtly suspicious, but enough that questioning eyes might scold themselves for wondering.
Chay licks his lips and toys with his necklace.
He remembers the first time he noticed it in fan recordings, long before he knew Kim personally—when he realized that shy, charming Wik takes a little too much pleasure in the screaming of his fans and the thrill of performing.
Now that mouth-watering imprint in Kim’s pants belongs to Chay.
It doesn’t matter if Wik makes bedroom eyes at some guitarist.
Kim is his.
~*~
“Chay,” Kim greets. His eyes linger on the key that rests below Chay’s throat, his voice low and rough. “Get me out of this thing.”
Chay crowds Kim against the counter of the dressing room.
Kim’s breath catches. He leans back on his elbows and spreads his legs wider.
“You enjoy this too much,” Kim complains.
Chay drops to his knees and yanks Kim’s pants open.
The cage around Kim’s cock gleams silvery chrome, a shining lock holding it in place. Chay leans forward and gently kisses the tip of it, smiling when Kim growls.
“Chay,” he threatens, “take this thing off of me right now or I swear I will—”
Chay glances up at him and fidgets with his necklace. Kim cuts off.
“You’ll what?” Chay asks innocently.
Kim swallows back his words.
“Please?” Kim breathes quietly. “Please, baby.”
Chay curls forward and sucks gently on the soft, exposed skin of Kim’s balls.
Kim whimpers. The sound crumbles into a pained hiss as the cage performs its function beautifully.
Kim is perfect like this.
Chay lifts the key from his throat and clicks it into the lock. He slides it free, detaching the cage from the base that rings Kim’s cock and balls, setting the mess of silvery pieces aside.
Kim’s head rolls back as Chay’s lips wrap around him. Chay suckles at the tip of his limp cock as all Kim’s blood rushes south.
“Fuck,” Kim moans. “Baby, I won’t last long.”
Chay raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t want you to last. I want you to come down my throat.”
Kim knots his fingers in Chay’s hair as Chay sucks him down once more. He spills into Chay’s mouth before he’s even completely hard.
Chay closes his eyes and lets Kim guide him, licking him clean as Kim shivers out his pleasure, gasping and trembling.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Fan sign! Five minutes!”
Chay brushes a pearly white droplet from his lip and sucks it off his fingertip.
“Think you control yourself in front of all those adoring fans, P’Wik," he taunts sweetly from his knees, "or should I put the cage back on?”