Behind The Scenes
Title: Behind The Scenes
Pairing: Kibum/Donghae
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,941
Summary: Donghae gets pissed when he finds out that Kibum let a rival photographer shoot him for a new ad campaign that he desperately wants.
Written for meiface , in thanks for the hot KiHae she wrote for me in record time.
Part of the ongoing model!photographer AU. Other arcs in this AU so far include KiHae and KyuMin.
___
“What’s the meaning of this?” Donghae hisses, slamming a folder on the desk.
Kibum, sitting behind the desk and tapping away at his computer, looks up at him. He smiles slightly, just a tilt of his lips at one corner, and leans back, stretching like a lazy cat. He’s in a tight black tank top, and his biceps bulge as he stretches out and arches his back, and for a moment Donghae wishes Kibum doesn’t look this fucking good even when he’s at home and his hair is tousled and he has glasses on because he is pissed, and he doesn’t want anything to detract from his anger until he’s gotten a good explanation from Kibum.
“What’s the meaning of what?” Kibum says nonchalantly, reaching out for the folder. He flips it open, and there are the colour proofs of the shots from his latest photoshoot - a photoshoot that Donghae didn’t know about, and most certainly didn’t shoot, until Sungmin had come into the studio today with a grim look on his face and the folder in hand.
“Thought you should know,” he’d said, and Donghae had flipped through the photos, his expression darkening with every shot. The campaign was for a new cult brand of jeans, and seeing Kibum in those shots, lounging on a large circular bed, legs spread with nothing on but skin-tight jeans and a predatory look on his face, had made him swear.
“Son of a bitch. Who shot this?” Donghae had demanded.
Sungmin’s expression was no less sullen than his. “Zhou Mi,” he’d said, and Donghae swore again.
“That little shit. He doesn’t have his own clients, he has to take mine? The bastard snuck behind my back and got Leeteuk for the cover of Circle. And now he’s shooting my boyfriend?”
Sungmin had shrugged. “I don’t know when or how this happened. Talk to Kibum about it.”
And that’s why he’s here in Kibum’s apartment, breathing hard and angry as hell, angry at Zhou Mi for competing with him to be Korea’s best photographer, angry at him for getting all the photoshoots he’s been coveting, angry at Kibum for allowing Zhou Mi to shoot him, even angrier that Kibum never told him a thing.
He watches as Kibum looks through the photos, waiting for him to say something - anything - but Kibum’s only reaction is to grin and toss it back to the desk. “It isn’t bad, but of course it’s nothing compared to what you do.”
That sets Donghae off.
In a flash he’s yanking Kibum off the chair and pushing him roughly to the wall, shoving him against it with an audible thud. Kibum continues smiling down at him, smiling with that same infuriating grin, and Donghae fists his hands in the thin material of Kibum’s singlet and shakes him hard, slamming him into the wall again.
“If you know that I can do better, why did you go to someone else?” he snarls.
Kibum hooks his fingers in Donghae’s belt loops and tugs him close enough for their bodies to meet, and despite himself and his fury, Donghae finds that he’s getting aroused, the air hot and heavy and Kibum’s body heat burning into him, that dark smile never leaving Kibum’s face. Kibum’s glasses are slightly askew and he takes one hand away from Donghae long enough to push them up and straighten them, and even that, Donghae finds, is much too sexy.
“Jealous?” Kibum whispers, and his hands move to Donghae’s belt buckle, tugging gently at it, toying with it, and there’s no denying it; Donghae’s already hard and aching for Kibum’s hands on him.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses, pressing himself against Kibum. “Why the fuck did you go to someone else, Kibum? You know I wanted to shoot that campaign. I wanted to shoot you.”
“Henry got it for me,” Kibum says lazily. “And well, the brand wanted Zhou Mi to be the photographer.”
Donghae shoves Kibum again; his back thumps against the wall. “Fuck Henry,” he says bitterly. “He should have come straight to me with this. I could have gotten this from Zhou Mi.”
“Fuck Henry?” Kibum’s smile is even more insolent than before, and Donghae’s pants tighten more at the sight.
“No,” he growls. “Fuck you, Kim Kibum. Fuck you for not telling me.”
“Then do it,” Kibum breathes; his breath wafts over Donghae’s cheek, hot and moist. “Are you going to stand there screaming, or are you going to fuck me for doing this to you?”
And then Donghae realizes; Kibum’s planned this all along.
He almost doesn’t know it when he begins tearing at Kibum’s shorts, his mind still fogged by anger that’s rapidly being replaced by rising lust as he turns Kibum around roughly and pushes his face against the wall. Kibum keeps that infuriating smirk on, even though his breathing’s getting heavy, even though he’s allowing Donghae to strip him, even when Donghae places fingers at his mouth.
“Suck,” he demands, and Kibum placidly opens his mouth, letting Donghae shove his fingers in so deep he gags for a moment, fingernails scraping the roof of his mouth.
“Goddamn you, Kibum,” Donghae growls, his free hand pulling off his belt and pants, the material pooling around his ankles. “Goddamn you and all your stupid games.” He shudders when he feels Kibum swirl his tongue across his finger pads and pulls them out of his mouth, glistening with Kibum’s saliva.
“Spread your legs,” he demands, and Kibum places his palms on the wall and does as Donghae says, and when Donghae pushes two fingers into him without any preamble, he’s gratified to see the smirk finally slide off Kibum’s face as he gasps. His other hand fumbles in the desk behind him, pulling out a bottle of lube he knows Kibum keeps there; he coats his cock clumsily with one hand as he begins fucking Kibum with his fingers, hardly giving him any time to adjust.
“I can’t believe you’ll do this to me, Kibum,” he says, fingers probing deep inside him, some sadistic part of his mind enjoying the look on Kibum’s face as he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure-pain, little gasps coming from the back of his throat, because he doesn't get to do this often. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
Kibum doesn’t answer, because at that moment Donghae’s fingertips graze just the right spot inside him, and he can only gasp, hips pushing back into Donghae’s hand.
“Fuck, Hae, stop talking and just fuck me,” he says breathlessly. “Come on, come on, move.”
Donghae hesitates, torn between wanting to make Kibum wait for it or just slamming into Kibum until he paints his insides with his come, but the way Kibum clenches around his fingers makes him decide that teasing can come later - after he’s thoroughly pounded Kibum into submission, and after Kibum’s told him exactly why he’s trying to jeopardize Donghae’s career by going to another photographer when the entire fashion industry knows that he’s Kibum’s boyfriend. The thought gets him fired up again, especially when he thinks of the rumours and the gossip that’s sure to ensue once the campaign and those photographs are launched, and without any further prompting he slides his fingers out and grips Kibum’s hips before he pushes himself in, burying himself to the hilt in one quick stroke.
“Fuck,” Kibum swears, lowering his head so Donghae can’t see his face. “Fuck, Donghae.”
“Lift your head up,” Donghae demands, and Kibum does so, looking at Donghae over his shoulder, white teeth biting down on his lower lip and his eyes hazy behind his glasses, and Donghae can’t suppress a groan at the sight.
“Hurry up,” Kibum says through gritted teeth. “Hurry up, hurry the fuck up, just fuck me - “
“Goddamn you,” Donghae says again, before he pulls out and slams into Kibum so hard his forehead hits the wall and he cries out, fingers curling against the concrete as the glasses slip right off his face and land between his feet. Donghae doesn’t stop, doesn’t care; Kibum’s tightening around him, rough and hot and oh, so good, and he’s frenzied by now, pounding into Kibum over and over until Kibum’s almost crying, Donghae’s name dropping from his lips in one long continuous moan that drives him insane.
“I’m going - “ he gasps, feeling white-hot pleasure tightening in his stomach, his fingers, slippery from sweat and saliva and lube, sliding off Kibum’s hips so he has to dig into the skin, cling on so tight he’s bruising Kibum, even as Kibum writhes under his grip, fingernails scrabbling at the wall. “I’m going - to fucking - kill you after this, Kibum.”
Kibum only moans, turning his head again to look at Donghae, taking one of his hands off the wall so he can bring it down to his own cock and stroke it, making Donghae swear once more at the sight of Kibum’s dark eyes, glazed with pleasure, boring into him as he begins fisting himself desperately in time to Donghae’s every thrust. “You’re so fucking good, Donghae, fuck, I’m so close, please.”
And that’s all it takes to push Donghae over; he comes with a shudder and a growl of Kibum’s name, leaning forward to sink his teeth into Kibum’s shoulder as beneath him Kibum tenses and tightens around him, gasping “Oh god, Donghae - “ before it trails off into a long low moan.
Donghae’s still breathing hard, pleasure tingling in every nerve and blinking the colours from his eyes, when he grabs at Kibum’s arms and lifts him up, flipping him over so they’re face to face.
“Now,” he says, panting, “are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?”
Kibum’s eyes are still shadowed with lust as he lifts his hand, dripping with come, to his mouth, and licks the fluid off slowly, watching as Donghae’s eyes narrow while he does it. He takes his time, licking at his palm and fingers until everything’s gone, and then he pulls Donghae to him and kisses him hard, their tongues lashing heatedly. Donghae can taste the salt and musk of Kibum in the kiss, and fuck if he doesn’t already want him again.
“Tell me,” he breathes into Kibum’s mouth, and feels Kibum’s lips curve up in a grin.
“Those shots aren’t the confirmed shots, Hae,” he says quietly, and Donghae takes a while to register it before he pushes Kibum away, eyes wide in shock.
“What?”
Kibum smirks. “You can always shoot me tomorrow, and submit your shots as well. Let the brand choose who they want to use.”
“Then why even bother going to Zhou Mi? Why not just come straight to me and not involve him at all?”
“Zhou Mi would have shot that Chinese model, Hankyung, if Henry hadn’t gotten to him. He’d have shot Hankyung before you had time for me, and they’d end up using him. Do you really think I’d let this campaign go to another model?”
Donghae’s stunned for a moment, then realization dawns on him, and he can’t help but start smiling, then laughing, Kibum grinning wickedly at him.
“You devious son of a bitch,” he says, and Kibum leans forward and captures his lips again, this time for a slower, more languid, but no less hot kiss.
“You love me like this anyway,” he says against Donghae’s lips, and Donghae laughs delightedly as he begins pulling at Kibum, stumbling lip-locked to his bedroom, his mind already spinning with ideas for what he can do for the new photoshoot with Kibum.
But first, he wants to get fucked in return.
Pairing: Kibum/Donghae
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,941
Summary: Donghae gets pissed when he finds out that Kibum let a rival photographer shoot him for a new ad campaign that he desperately wants.
Written for meiface , in thanks for the hot KiHae she wrote for me in record time.
Part of the ongoing model!photographer AU. Other arcs in this AU so far include KiHae and KyuMin.
___
“What’s the meaning of this?” Donghae hisses, slamming a folder on the desk.
Kibum, sitting behind the desk and tapping away at his computer, looks up at him. He smiles slightly, just a tilt of his lips at one corner, and leans back, stretching like a lazy cat. He’s in a tight black tank top, and his biceps bulge as he stretches out and arches his back, and for a moment Donghae wishes Kibum doesn’t look this fucking good even when he’s at home and his hair is tousled and he has glasses on because he is pissed, and he doesn’t want anything to detract from his anger until he’s gotten a good explanation from Kibum.
“What’s the meaning of what?” Kibum says nonchalantly, reaching out for the folder. He flips it open, and there are the colour proofs of the shots from his latest photoshoot - a photoshoot that Donghae didn’t know about, and most certainly didn’t shoot, until Sungmin had come into the studio today with a grim look on his face and the folder in hand.
“Thought you should know,” he’d said, and Donghae had flipped through the photos, his expression darkening with every shot. The campaign was for a new cult brand of jeans, and seeing Kibum in those shots, lounging on a large circular bed, legs spread with nothing on but skin-tight jeans and a predatory look on his face, had made him swear.
“Son of a bitch. Who shot this?” Donghae had demanded.
Sungmin’s expression was no less sullen than his. “Zhou Mi,” he’d said, and Donghae swore again.
“That little shit. He doesn’t have his own clients, he has to take mine? The bastard snuck behind my back and got Leeteuk for the cover of Circle. And now he’s shooting my boyfriend?”
Sungmin had shrugged. “I don’t know when or how this happened. Talk to Kibum about it.”
And that’s why he’s here in Kibum’s apartment, breathing hard and angry as hell, angry at Zhou Mi for competing with him to be Korea’s best photographer, angry at him for getting all the photoshoots he’s been coveting, angry at Kibum for allowing Zhou Mi to shoot him, even angrier that Kibum never told him a thing.
He watches as Kibum looks through the photos, waiting for him to say something - anything - but Kibum’s only reaction is to grin and toss it back to the desk. “It isn’t bad, but of course it’s nothing compared to what you do.”
That sets Donghae off.
In a flash he’s yanking Kibum off the chair and pushing him roughly to the wall, shoving him against it with an audible thud. Kibum continues smiling down at him, smiling with that same infuriating grin, and Donghae fists his hands in the thin material of Kibum’s singlet and shakes him hard, slamming him into the wall again.
“If you know that I can do better, why did you go to someone else?” he snarls.
Kibum hooks his fingers in Donghae’s belt loops and tugs him close enough for their bodies to meet, and despite himself and his fury, Donghae finds that he’s getting aroused, the air hot and heavy and Kibum’s body heat burning into him, that dark smile never leaving Kibum’s face. Kibum’s glasses are slightly askew and he takes one hand away from Donghae long enough to push them up and straighten them, and even that, Donghae finds, is much too sexy.
“Jealous?” Kibum whispers, and his hands move to Donghae’s belt buckle, tugging gently at it, toying with it, and there’s no denying it; Donghae’s already hard and aching for Kibum’s hands on him.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses, pressing himself against Kibum. “Why the fuck did you go to someone else, Kibum? You know I wanted to shoot that campaign. I wanted to shoot you.”
“Henry got it for me,” Kibum says lazily. “And well, the brand wanted Zhou Mi to be the photographer.”
Donghae shoves Kibum again; his back thumps against the wall. “Fuck Henry,” he says bitterly. “He should have come straight to me with this. I could have gotten this from Zhou Mi.”
“Fuck Henry?” Kibum’s smile is even more insolent than before, and Donghae’s pants tighten more at the sight.
“No,” he growls. “Fuck you, Kim Kibum. Fuck you for not telling me.”
“Then do it,” Kibum breathes; his breath wafts over Donghae’s cheek, hot and moist. “Are you going to stand there screaming, or are you going to fuck me for doing this to you?”
And then Donghae realizes; Kibum’s planned this all along.
He almost doesn’t know it when he begins tearing at Kibum’s shorts, his mind still fogged by anger that’s rapidly being replaced by rising lust as he turns Kibum around roughly and pushes his face against the wall. Kibum keeps that infuriating smirk on, even though his breathing’s getting heavy, even though he’s allowing Donghae to strip him, even when Donghae places fingers at his mouth.
“Suck,” he demands, and Kibum placidly opens his mouth, letting Donghae shove his fingers in so deep he gags for a moment, fingernails scraping the roof of his mouth.
“Goddamn you, Kibum,” Donghae growls, his free hand pulling off his belt and pants, the material pooling around his ankles. “Goddamn you and all your stupid games.” He shudders when he feels Kibum swirl his tongue across his finger pads and pulls them out of his mouth, glistening with Kibum’s saliva.
“Spread your legs,” he demands, and Kibum places his palms on the wall and does as Donghae says, and when Donghae pushes two fingers into him without any preamble, he’s gratified to see the smirk finally slide off Kibum’s face as he gasps. His other hand fumbles in the desk behind him, pulling out a bottle of lube he knows Kibum keeps there; he coats his cock clumsily with one hand as he begins fucking Kibum with his fingers, hardly giving him any time to adjust.
“I can’t believe you’ll do this to me, Kibum,” he says, fingers probing deep inside him, some sadistic part of his mind enjoying the look on Kibum’s face as he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure-pain, little gasps coming from the back of his throat, because he doesn't get to do this often. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
Kibum doesn’t answer, because at that moment Donghae’s fingertips graze just the right spot inside him, and he can only gasp, hips pushing back into Donghae’s hand.
“Fuck, Hae, stop talking and just fuck me,” he says breathlessly. “Come on, come on, move.”
Donghae hesitates, torn between wanting to make Kibum wait for it or just slamming into Kibum until he paints his insides with his come, but the way Kibum clenches around his fingers makes him decide that teasing can come later - after he’s thoroughly pounded Kibum into submission, and after Kibum’s told him exactly why he’s trying to jeopardize Donghae’s career by going to another photographer when the entire fashion industry knows that he’s Kibum’s boyfriend. The thought gets him fired up again, especially when he thinks of the rumours and the gossip that’s sure to ensue once the campaign and those photographs are launched, and without any further prompting he slides his fingers out and grips Kibum’s hips before he pushes himself in, burying himself to the hilt in one quick stroke.
“Fuck,” Kibum swears, lowering his head so Donghae can’t see his face. “Fuck, Donghae.”
“Lift your head up,” Donghae demands, and Kibum does so, looking at Donghae over his shoulder, white teeth biting down on his lower lip and his eyes hazy behind his glasses, and Donghae can’t suppress a groan at the sight.
“Hurry up,” Kibum says through gritted teeth. “Hurry up, hurry the fuck up, just fuck me - “
“Goddamn you,” Donghae says again, before he pulls out and slams into Kibum so hard his forehead hits the wall and he cries out, fingers curling against the concrete as the glasses slip right off his face and land between his feet. Donghae doesn’t stop, doesn’t care; Kibum’s tightening around him, rough and hot and oh, so good, and he’s frenzied by now, pounding into Kibum over and over until Kibum’s almost crying, Donghae’s name dropping from his lips in one long continuous moan that drives him insane.
“I’m going - “ he gasps, feeling white-hot pleasure tightening in his stomach, his fingers, slippery from sweat and saliva and lube, sliding off Kibum’s hips so he has to dig into the skin, cling on so tight he’s bruising Kibum, even as Kibum writhes under his grip, fingernails scrabbling at the wall. “I’m going - to fucking - kill you after this, Kibum.”
Kibum only moans, turning his head again to look at Donghae, taking one of his hands off the wall so he can bring it down to his own cock and stroke it, making Donghae swear once more at the sight of Kibum’s dark eyes, glazed with pleasure, boring into him as he begins fisting himself desperately in time to Donghae’s every thrust. “You’re so fucking good, Donghae, fuck, I’m so close, please.”
And that’s all it takes to push Donghae over; he comes with a shudder and a growl of Kibum’s name, leaning forward to sink his teeth into Kibum’s shoulder as beneath him Kibum tenses and tightens around him, gasping “Oh god, Donghae - “ before it trails off into a long low moan.
Donghae’s still breathing hard, pleasure tingling in every nerve and blinking the colours from his eyes, when he grabs at Kibum’s arms and lifts him up, flipping him over so they’re face to face.
“Now,” he says, panting, “are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?”
Kibum’s eyes are still shadowed with lust as he lifts his hand, dripping with come, to his mouth, and licks the fluid off slowly, watching as Donghae’s eyes narrow while he does it. He takes his time, licking at his palm and fingers until everything’s gone, and then he pulls Donghae to him and kisses him hard, their tongues lashing heatedly. Donghae can taste the salt and musk of Kibum in the kiss, and fuck if he doesn’t already want him again.
“Tell me,” he breathes into Kibum’s mouth, and feels Kibum’s lips curve up in a grin.
“Those shots aren’t the confirmed shots, Hae,” he says quietly, and Donghae takes a while to register it before he pushes Kibum away, eyes wide in shock.
“What?”
Kibum smirks. “You can always shoot me tomorrow, and submit your shots as well. Let the brand choose who they want to use.”
“Then why even bother going to Zhou Mi? Why not just come straight to me and not involve him at all?”
“Zhou Mi would have shot that Chinese model, Hankyung, if Henry hadn’t gotten to him. He’d have shot Hankyung before you had time for me, and they’d end up using him. Do you really think I’d let this campaign go to another model?”
Donghae’s stunned for a moment, then realization dawns on him, and he can’t help but start smiling, then laughing, Kibum grinning wickedly at him.
“You devious son of a bitch,” he says, and Kibum leans forward and captures his lips again, this time for a slower, more languid, but no less hot kiss.
“You love me like this anyway,” he says against Donghae’s lips, and Donghae laughs delightedly as he begins pulling at Kibum, stumbling lip-locked to his bedroom, his mind already spinning with ideas for what he can do for the new photoshoot with Kibum.
But first, he wants to get fucked in return.