Dr. Feel Good
Title: Dr. Feel Good
Pairing: Key/Di (Rania)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Key asks Di to teach him the Dr. Feel Good dance.
Notes: I dreamed about it. 8] Plus they make a really fucking cute couple o k. I also really love Rania and would like to write more of them... Anyway this has no real plot, I just dreamed about them making out and getting somewhat naughty but I'm not in the mood to write smut heh.
Kibum wasn’t like any of the other male idols. He wasn’t as conservative - he spoke his mind, he didn’t let the company bog him down or censor his mouth, he did what he wanted when he wanted and he branched out to whoever he could, whenever he could. He was brazen and different and people were naturally magnetized to him, people were naturally drawn to his personality no matter what the circumstances were; people always tried to get closer, people were dancing on the tips of their toes to dodge his edgy words and his cautious eyes but most of all they were waiting to latch onto his arm and hang from his laughter.
He was unique, most of all. There was always someone somewhat like him but no such replicas, and he would constantly make sure of that. He would change his style on a whim, but still keep the same ‘Key’ edge. He could wear something some other idol wore in a completely different way, and get praised for it. He could insult someone to their face and they wouldn’t even know it and most of all, he could speak his mind and he wouldn’t get punished for it. He had a free mouth, a free mind and a free spirit and it was hard to come across such things in such a famous group in the industry - it was the most attractive thing about Kibum.
Some people might scoff at his girl group dances, might make fun of his girlish qualities, the way he can easily flip his hair or sashay his hips. But as Di watched Key swivel his hips to some other girl group’s choreography, as she watched his eyes narrow and his lips part for his breaths, there was something different about it - something masculine about it. It was commanding, it was domineering - he was rubbing it in women’s faces that he could dance better than them, that he could capture men’s attention quicker than they could with the flick of his wrist or the twist of his hips. She watched on her television screen as other male idols stared, transfixed while Key dipped and moved, she caught that challenging glint in his eyes and she knew what Kibum was looking for.
It was different in person, though. She had to learn that the hard way, when Key had decided to show up for a recording of Music Core. He had no reason to be there, other than the fact that Onew and Minho were the MC’s, but he had never showed up before. She hadn’t seen him yet, but the various girls were tittering with the information, an excited buzz in the air about Key oppa and whether or not he would come backstage to wish the rookie groups luck.
Sure enough, he had found his way back stage and was chatting with some girls that Di didn’t know, or even care to know. Di was sitting in a chair, fumes of hair spray tickling her nostrils as her stylist worked on her blond locks, fluffing them and straightening them and feathering them accordingly. In the reflection of the mirror Di watched as girls bowed and shyly greeted Key, as he talked to more familiar friends and laughed loudly and obnoxiously, as he showed a surprising, charming charisma to new girls and was just a generally nice person. Jooyi even wandered over at one point and shyly asked him where he bought his jacket from and they exchanged a few styling tips while Di silently watched, and as Rania finished their preparations to get out on stage, Key gave a cheerful ‘hwaiting’ before catching Di’s eye, giving a knowing smirk.
She had to concentrate extra hard during that performance.
--
As the master of girl group dances, it was no surprise when Kibum was going around asking girls to show him key points of their choreography. However, Di wasn’t expecting him to approach her at all. The ‘spread leg dance’ was way too racy, they had changed the choreography for music shows and even their music video just to please their fans and South Korea alone - no way would Key want to learn that. So when he leaned against her vanity back stage and folded his arms over his chest and smiled at her, she tried not to blush in surprise as he greeted her.
“You’re a ninety-one’er, right?” Key asked.
Di nodded, trying not to move too much as the stylist ran the flat iron over her hair.
“Do you want to join my line?”
Key’s 91-line was no joke and Di knew exactly what it was, and was quite honestly surprised that he invited her in on it. As far as she knew, not many females were included.
“Er, alright,” she said softly, averting her gaze from his jaw to her reflection in the mirror.
“Great! Meet me back here after your performance ok?” He grinned and clapped his hands, patting her shoulder before he wandered out of the room. She shrugged her shoulder idly, feeling heat seeping through her leather shoulder cuff, shivering softly.
--
Teaching Key choreography shouldn’t be awkward. Di wasn’t normally a shy person - she was bright and fun and friendly but there was something about Kibum that made her close up and shy away from him. But in the back room, just the two of them, with him rambling on about how he needs to blow the crowd away with a new girl group dance because he’s gotten too ‘predictable’ lately, Di couldn’t help but feel a bit stuffy. He was dressed simply in a too-large tee and some tight jeans, his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he ran through what he knew of the choreography, rather stiff-legged as he moved around. Di watched with a hand over her mouth so as to prevent any noises from slipping out, whether they were cries of anguish or secondhand embarrassment, and she finally stepped forward, the heels of her boots clacking on the linoleum.
“The point here when the song says ‘I want to feel good’ is to press down with your hands and tilt your head, like this,” she said, making an example as she went into position, spreading her legs and tilting her head to the side, her blond bangs falling in her face as she started to swivel her hips, counting out loud.
Key followed her easily enough, his eyes glued to her hips as she moved.
On stage, thousands of people across the nation were watching her in her short shorts do this provocative dance. But here, in this small room with Key’s eyes trained solely on her exposed skin, Di felt goosebumps rising on her thighs as she slid down onto her knees, the padding of her boots preventing injury as she started to pulse her body up and down, her hands moving to her lower back, sliding over her hips and the tops of her thighs slowly.
Move by move they repeated the choreography, Key standing behind Di so he could mirror her movements, and soon enough he had the choreography down perfect. They were on their fourth or fifth run through when suddenly Di got a whiff of his cologne and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up - she was overpowered by his presence, one of his hands sliding around her front, his two middle fingers sliding over the front of her shorts, his other hand cupping the swell of her ass.
“Thanks for showing me this dance, Di,” he breathed.
In this position, her legs spread and bent, her neck turned to the side and exposed, she was completely vulnerable. Her body trembled and quaked, threatening to give out on her; his fingers massaged through her tight shorts and she let out a soft whimper, heat spreading through her body and her hips went through the choreography, grinding down onto his fingers, as his lips kissed along the column of her neck. Lips dragging over her jaw, he coaxed her head to turn and their mouths met in a kiss, Di getting drunk off of everything that was Key - his surprising dominance, this surprising charisma.
She straightened and turned around and their bodies pressed flush together, both of his hands gripping her ass and his dick pressing into her hip as they moved together - in the next instant they were down on the floor fumbling with clothes, Kibum’s fingers moving to undo the fastenings of Di’s outfit, Di’s platinum hair obstructing her vision as she pushed up Key’s shirt to let her fingers rake over the lining of his ribs. He only managed to undo her top, his back arching as he lifted himself up a bit to attach his lips to her collarbone, teeth nipping at the flesh, Di’s head dropping back as she let out a soft pant.
Swiveling her hips atop him, in this position with her knees spread on either side of his body, she started to grind down, applying pressure to his trapped erection. He swore under his breath, his glasses went askew and his hair was a wreck as his hands ran over the tops of her thighs, fingers dipping into the tops of her boots before sliding up to run over her covered clit. They dry humped like that, her grinding atop him and him bucking up into her, the heat between them amplified by her cat-like mewls and her arching back and the way her hair brushed across his nose and how his steady hands gripped at her hips to keep her nice and solid on his covered cock.
“Yah! Di! We gotta go!”
Kibum and Di froze, panting and flushed, staring at each other as Riko’s voice floated over them. Another knock and another inquiry, and they scrambled off of each other, Di hastily trying to fasten her top again, Key helping her and fixing her hair and adjusting his shirt and glasses, fanning his face and clearing his throat some. Di opened her mouth to say something - anything - and Kibum just laughed and shrugged.
“Thanks for teaching me the dance,” he said, grabbing his satchel and opening the door, brushing past a rather confused looking Riko.
Di blinked and blushed, patting her face and offering a shaky smile to Riko, who tilted her head.
“What’d he want?”
“I was just teaching him some choreography…”
“Oh,” Riko arched a brow and watched as Kibum sashayed down the hallway. “I didn’t think he was the hands-on type.”
Di blushed darker, grabbing her coat and shrugging, “He’s the best at what he does.”
Pairing: Key/Di (Rania)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Key asks Di to teach him the Dr. Feel Good dance.
Notes: I dreamed about it. 8] Plus they make a really fucking cute couple o k. I also really love Rania and would like to write more of them... Anyway this has no real plot, I just dreamed about them making out and getting somewhat naughty but I'm not in the mood to write smut heh.
Kibum wasn’t like any of the other male idols. He wasn’t as conservative - he spoke his mind, he didn’t let the company bog him down or censor his mouth, he did what he wanted when he wanted and he branched out to whoever he could, whenever he could. He was brazen and different and people were naturally magnetized to him, people were naturally drawn to his personality no matter what the circumstances were; people always tried to get closer, people were dancing on the tips of their toes to dodge his edgy words and his cautious eyes but most of all they were waiting to latch onto his arm and hang from his laughter.
He was unique, most of all. There was always someone somewhat like him but no such replicas, and he would constantly make sure of that. He would change his style on a whim, but still keep the same ‘Key’ edge. He could wear something some other idol wore in a completely different way, and get praised for it. He could insult someone to their face and they wouldn’t even know it and most of all, he could speak his mind and he wouldn’t get punished for it. He had a free mouth, a free mind and a free spirit and it was hard to come across such things in such a famous group in the industry - it was the most attractive thing about Kibum.
Some people might scoff at his girl group dances, might make fun of his girlish qualities, the way he can easily flip his hair or sashay his hips. But as Di watched Key swivel his hips to some other girl group’s choreography, as she watched his eyes narrow and his lips part for his breaths, there was something different about it - something masculine about it. It was commanding, it was domineering - he was rubbing it in women’s faces that he could dance better than them, that he could capture men’s attention quicker than they could with the flick of his wrist or the twist of his hips. She watched on her television screen as other male idols stared, transfixed while Key dipped and moved, she caught that challenging glint in his eyes and she knew what Kibum was looking for.
It was different in person, though. She had to learn that the hard way, when Key had decided to show up for a recording of Music Core. He had no reason to be there, other than the fact that Onew and Minho were the MC’s, but he had never showed up before. She hadn’t seen him yet, but the various girls were tittering with the information, an excited buzz in the air about Key oppa and whether or not he would come backstage to wish the rookie groups luck.
Sure enough, he had found his way back stage and was chatting with some girls that Di didn’t know, or even care to know. Di was sitting in a chair, fumes of hair spray tickling her nostrils as her stylist worked on her blond locks, fluffing them and straightening them and feathering them accordingly. In the reflection of the mirror Di watched as girls bowed and shyly greeted Key, as he talked to more familiar friends and laughed loudly and obnoxiously, as he showed a surprising, charming charisma to new girls and was just a generally nice person. Jooyi even wandered over at one point and shyly asked him where he bought his jacket from and they exchanged a few styling tips while Di silently watched, and as Rania finished their preparations to get out on stage, Key gave a cheerful ‘hwaiting’ before catching Di’s eye, giving a knowing smirk.
She had to concentrate extra hard during that performance.
--
As the master of girl group dances, it was no surprise when Kibum was going around asking girls to show him key points of their choreography. However, Di wasn’t expecting him to approach her at all. The ‘spread leg dance’ was way too racy, they had changed the choreography for music shows and even their music video just to please their fans and South Korea alone - no way would Key want to learn that. So when he leaned against her vanity back stage and folded his arms over his chest and smiled at her, she tried not to blush in surprise as he greeted her.
“You’re a ninety-one’er, right?” Key asked.
Di nodded, trying not to move too much as the stylist ran the flat iron over her hair.
“Do you want to join my line?”
Key’s 91-line was no joke and Di knew exactly what it was, and was quite honestly surprised that he invited her in on it. As far as she knew, not many females were included.
“Er, alright,” she said softly, averting her gaze from his jaw to her reflection in the mirror.
“Great! Meet me back here after your performance ok?” He grinned and clapped his hands, patting her shoulder before he wandered out of the room. She shrugged her shoulder idly, feeling heat seeping through her leather shoulder cuff, shivering softly.
--
Teaching Key choreography shouldn’t be awkward. Di wasn’t normally a shy person - she was bright and fun and friendly but there was something about Kibum that made her close up and shy away from him. But in the back room, just the two of them, with him rambling on about how he needs to blow the crowd away with a new girl group dance because he’s gotten too ‘predictable’ lately, Di couldn’t help but feel a bit stuffy. He was dressed simply in a too-large tee and some tight jeans, his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he ran through what he knew of the choreography, rather stiff-legged as he moved around. Di watched with a hand over her mouth so as to prevent any noises from slipping out, whether they were cries of anguish or secondhand embarrassment, and she finally stepped forward, the heels of her boots clacking on the linoleum.
“The point here when the song says ‘I want to feel good’ is to press down with your hands and tilt your head, like this,” she said, making an example as she went into position, spreading her legs and tilting her head to the side, her blond bangs falling in her face as she started to swivel her hips, counting out loud.
Key followed her easily enough, his eyes glued to her hips as she moved.
On stage, thousands of people across the nation were watching her in her short shorts do this provocative dance. But here, in this small room with Key’s eyes trained solely on her exposed skin, Di felt goosebumps rising on her thighs as she slid down onto her knees, the padding of her boots preventing injury as she started to pulse her body up and down, her hands moving to her lower back, sliding over her hips and the tops of her thighs slowly.
Move by move they repeated the choreography, Key standing behind Di so he could mirror her movements, and soon enough he had the choreography down perfect. They were on their fourth or fifth run through when suddenly Di got a whiff of his cologne and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up - she was overpowered by his presence, one of his hands sliding around her front, his two middle fingers sliding over the front of her shorts, his other hand cupping the swell of her ass.
“Thanks for showing me this dance, Di,” he breathed.
In this position, her legs spread and bent, her neck turned to the side and exposed, she was completely vulnerable. Her body trembled and quaked, threatening to give out on her; his fingers massaged through her tight shorts and she let out a soft whimper, heat spreading through her body and her hips went through the choreography, grinding down onto his fingers, as his lips kissed along the column of her neck. Lips dragging over her jaw, he coaxed her head to turn and their mouths met in a kiss, Di getting drunk off of everything that was Key - his surprising dominance, this surprising charisma.
She straightened and turned around and their bodies pressed flush together, both of his hands gripping her ass and his dick pressing into her hip as they moved together - in the next instant they were down on the floor fumbling with clothes, Kibum’s fingers moving to undo the fastenings of Di’s outfit, Di’s platinum hair obstructing her vision as she pushed up Key’s shirt to let her fingers rake over the lining of his ribs. He only managed to undo her top, his back arching as he lifted himself up a bit to attach his lips to her collarbone, teeth nipping at the flesh, Di’s head dropping back as she let out a soft pant.
Swiveling her hips atop him, in this position with her knees spread on either side of his body, she started to grind down, applying pressure to his trapped erection. He swore under his breath, his glasses went askew and his hair was a wreck as his hands ran over the tops of her thighs, fingers dipping into the tops of her boots before sliding up to run over her covered clit. They dry humped like that, her grinding atop him and him bucking up into her, the heat between them amplified by her cat-like mewls and her arching back and the way her hair brushed across his nose and how his steady hands gripped at her hips to keep her nice and solid on his covered cock.
“Yah! Di! We gotta go!”
Kibum and Di froze, panting and flushed, staring at each other as Riko’s voice floated over them. Another knock and another inquiry, and they scrambled off of each other, Di hastily trying to fasten her top again, Key helping her and fixing her hair and adjusting his shirt and glasses, fanning his face and clearing his throat some. Di opened her mouth to say something - anything - and Kibum just laughed and shrugged.
“Thanks for teaching me the dance,” he said, grabbing his satchel and opening the door, brushing past a rather confused looking Riko.
Di blinked and blushed, patting her face and offering a shaky smile to Riko, who tilted her head.
“What’d he want?”
“I was just teaching him some choreography…”
“Oh,” Riko arched a brow and watched as Kibum sashayed down the hallway. “I didn’t think he was the hands-on type.”
Di blushed darker, grabbing her coat and shrugging, “He’s the best at what he does.”