Chapter Text
fantastic, that’s you (earl hines)
day 1 — 1920's bar
'Come and visit me after the opening act. Dressing Room C.'
Kyungsoo clutched at the small note written for him, reading the invitation once more before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose and shoving the note back into his pocket.
He paid attention to the stage, the subtle sound of the band readying themselves to perform hums before the audience, signalling the first opening act of the night.
When the bright spotlight suddenly illuminated the sleek, dark stage, with a lone chandelier hanging above, Kyungsoo found himself unable to blink.
His eyes were glued to the man standing in the centre of the stage, bathed in that harsh light. The glittery lace on the man’s outfit shimmered with every move he made. Kyungsoo was completely mesmerised.
The man, a performer at the club Kyungsoo had frequented, was clearly a favourite among the regulars.
It wasn’t hard to see why—he was captivating. His smile oozed charm, and his graceful, confident movements matched the jazzy rhythm of the music. He danced with a prop, dressed in tight black pants, with suspenders that barely clung to his shoulders, falling off when he spun around.
Kyungsoo couldn’t tear his gaze away, sipping his drink slowly, eyes locked on the man the whole time.
“I see some new faces in the crowd tonight!” the performer called out, calm and effortlessly stunning under the soft glow of the chandelier. He winked at Kyungsoo’s direction, making eye contact with him before turning to the other side of the crowd.
His makeup was subtle, but it made him even more breathtaking. Kyungsoo couldn’t help but imagine what the man would look like if he kissed him until he was completely undone—maybe somewhere at the bar or just on the stage itself, where the crowd could be their witness.
The crowd cheered and whistled, and the man snapped his fingers in rhythm with their enthusiasm.
“Sir! Another round for me and my girls, please!” he sang, adjusting his see-through lace shirt and belt, striking a playful pose like he was getting ready for a date.
As the music softened, the strings built up tension, creating a moment of quiet anticipation for the dancers about to join him.
“Farewell for now, mes amours ,” the man said with a playful goodbye, tossing his prop backstage and exiting gracefully.
Kyungsoo’s gaze stayed glued to the performer, even as the man became just a silhouette slipping behind the backstage curtains.
As the music from the band blared louder and the lights shifted, a bright spotlight centred on the stage. Sensual dancers appeared, moving gracefully in sync. Kyungsoo blinked, momentarily distracted, but his thoughts quickly wandered back to the mesmerising man who had vanished behind the curtains.
Without much thought, Kyungsoo awkwardly navigated through the crowded tables, squeezing past people as he made his way toward the side door that led backstage. Thanks to the classy, old-school layout of the bar, it didn’t take long for him to find the door he was looking for.
Slipping through it, Kyungsoo found himself in a dim hallway, cluttered with stage props and random backstage items. The dim lighting guided him forward, each step bringing him closer to the man’s dressing room.
The soft glow of the warm lights eventually led Kyungsoo to the room he sought. In the background, smooth jazz filled the air, blending with the faint vibrations of the band’s music beneath his feet.
The sound hummed through the walls, accompanied by the sultry voice of a woman singing—her tone rich with experience. She sang in English, though Kyungsoo could barely make out the lyrics, her words weaving effortlessly into the atmosphere around him.
“Hi, love,” the man greeted when he opened the door. “You got here fast.”
Kyungsoo stood there, a little stunned, but before he could say anything, the man grabbed his sleeve, pulled him in, and immediately kissed him, shutting the door behind them.
The music from the club blended into their kiss, making Kyungsoo feel like the room was spinning with soft sparkles and lights. He breathed into the kiss, pressing his hands to the man’s chest, feeling the lace fabric under his fingertips.
His dear— his beloved —wrapped his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist, holding him close. With a careful hand, he took off Kyungsoo’s thin glasses, tucking them on the hem of his collar.
“You were incredible,” Kyungsoo murmured, swallowing nervously as he looked up at him in admiration.
The man gently nuzzled their noses together. “It was nothing,” he said with a shy smile, blushing a little at the praise. “But thanks for coming tonight.”
“Of course,” Kyungsoo replied, leaning in for another soft kiss. He briefly worried about smudging the man’s makeup but quickly pushed the thought away, knowing he’d be back on stage soon for the final act.
The man grinned at him with a playful glint in his eyes. Suddenly, he guided Kyungsoo over to his dressing table, sitting him down in the chair. The bright lights around the mirror lit up Kyungsoo’s face, and he blinked at his reflection, adjusting to the sight of himself while his lover stood behind him.
With arms wrapped around his shoulders and fingers trailing down his chest, Kyungsoo watched in the mirror as the man’s hands worked their way to the buttons on his black shirt.
Slowly, the buttons were undone, revealing Kyungsoo’s pale chest and shoulders. The man tugged the shirt open, leaving him fully exposed in front of the mirror.
Smiling mischievously, the man reached for one of the lipsticks on the table and applied it to his own lips. Still grinning, he leaned down and began pressing kisses along Kyungsoo’s bare skin, leaving red stains across his neck and collarbone.
Kyungsoo’s breath hitched as he watched through half-closed eyes, feeling each lipstick mark like a promise for later. The sight of himself being kissed so thoroughly stirred a deep arousal, and his trousers grew tighter by the second.
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo whispered, his voice shaky as his Adam's apple bobbed with nervous excitement.
The soft notes of the instruments echoed in the room, each kiss from his lover building the tension between them. Kyungsoo turned his head, burying his nose in the man’s hair, inhaling the rich, expensive scent that made him dizzy with need.
Then, the man gently spun the chair around so Kyungsoo faced him directly. With a heated gaze, Kyungsoo watched as his lover knelt between his legs, his hands reaching up to cup Kyungsoo’s bulge. His lips found Kyungsoo’s chest again, kissing and sucking on one of his nipples.
Kyungsoo bit back a moan, his head falling back as his fingers tangled in the man’s hair, gripping tightly.
The hands teasing his crotch were quick and skilled, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers with ease.
Kyungsoo glanced at the mirror beside them, seeing the messy red lipstick smeared across his neck and chest, almost like bruised hickeys if he squinted.
His lover’s mouth stayed busy on his chest, but Kyungsoo tugged at his hair, pulling his face up. The sight of him—hair dishevelled, makeup smudged, and lipstick messily smeared around his lips—made Kyungsoo ache with want.
A new song began on the piano, the slow melody vibrating through the room. Kyungsoo glanced at the clock behind him and, with a low, hushed voice, asked, “Do we have ten or twenty minutes?”
His lover’s eyes sparkled with lust and excitement. “We do,” he whispered, nodding slowly.
Without wasting another second, Kyungsoo pulled him into a hungry kiss. They quickly became lost in the heat of the moment, and soon Kyungsoo found himself bent over the vanity, clutching the carved edges as he stared at his reflection while his lover ravished him from behind.
The music reached toward its climax, perfectly in sync with their movements.
As the song reached its peak, so did they, their breaths mingling with the last notes of the piano.
Once they were done, the room was left in disarray—lipstick stains in odd places on their body and scattered kisses marking the aftermath.
His lover lingered for a moment before Kyungsoo slipped out with the sound of a soft melody echoing through the building, leaving him only a message on the mirror written in the same lipstick they had used.
“Come get your drink at the bar after. It’s on me.”
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