Chapter 4 - LUX
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LUX
“If I uploaded this picture to VOXbox, I could break the entire fandom,” Nikko says, tilting his phone to show me the shot he just took of Chita and Ryo. “Just one single post and the platform goes down.”
Even though I’ve been watching them carrying stuff into Jase and Nikko’s place for the last hour, the photo he’s captured still surprises me. He’s not kidding about VOX, either. They’d log into the fan portal to see the image and just… implode.
Chita in his crop top with the sleeves cut off and baggy sweats, abs out and glistening with sweat, hair pulled off his face into a springy little ponytail, is the kind of sight that fanfic is written about.
Ryo, who is generally pretty modest, is wearing a tank top and some track pants that are showing all of his normally well-concealed features.
They’re carrying some sort of large box together, and they look really hot doing it.
If they weren’t basically my brothers—and Kija wasn’t in the room—I’d probably be a little turned on by all of this.
The fans, though? They’d die.
But Kim Kija is in the room. Wearing a tight black tee shirt with some European sports logo on it and a pair of silver basketball shorts, a combination that is giving me the best view I’ve ever had of his body outside of the slim cut trousers and tailored dress shirts he wears sometimes.
I have known he was tall and well-built since the day I first saw him, but the way the shirt clings to his biceps and gives just a hint of definition to his abs, and the slick material slipping over the curve of his ass, ending just above his muscular calves has me ready to get on my knees right here in front of everyone.
“Sun. Seriously.”
“Huh?” I blink at Nikko and the scowl on his face. “I wasn’t doing anything!”
“I know!” He waves his hands around, gesturing to everyone else in the room, actively in motion. “Everyone else is doing things and you’re just standing here, staring at Kija-hyung and drooling.”
I scoff, offended. “Excuse you. I am not drooling. That’s disgusting.”
“Not literally. You just have that look again where I know you’re thinking about doing all sorts of dirty things,” he mumbles, lowering his voice as Tang and Lalo walk by arguing over the directions on how to assemble some piece of furniture.
Smirking, I nod, because he’s not wrong. Five more seconds and I’d have definitely conjured up a vivid scenario about wrapping my lips around Kija’s cock.
“Ugh,” Nikko groans. “This is a big day for me! I’m moving in with my boyfriend! Can you focus for a little bit?”
I do feel bad when he says that. I probably have not been nearly as supportive as I should be. My own feelings of jealousy that he’s gotten everything he wanted has overshadowed the excitement I should feel for him.
From the moment we learned about the new apartments, I have been struggling. We were being rewarded for our success with much-upgraded accommodations, and as we began to sort out who would live where, Nikko had announced his room would essentially be empty because he was going to move in with Jase.
My heart had dropped, twisted up in a painful way. Not only was my best friend no longer an option as a roommate, but he was leaving me in an entirely different way. Settling into his relationship in a very serious way. And I wanted so badly to do the same.
“I was supervising?” I ask, joking. When he rolls his eyes at me, I apologize. “You’re right. I’m sorry. What can I help you with?”
Nikko gives me a quick side hug and says, “You could probably sneak into the bedroom and make a pile of Jase’s clothes you hate, and I can try to get rid of them?”
I burst out laughing, causing Ryo to squawk at being startled and drop the box of kitchen utensils he was carrying, sending them clattering all over the floor.
Whoops.
?? ?? ??
The sound of the lock sliding into place on my bedroom door brings a smile to my face instantly. It’s only been a week, but I feel like I am going to appreciate that soft click for a long, long time.
At nearly twenty-two years old and famous around the world, I finally have a room all to myself.
Growing up, I shared a room with my sister until I moved into the dorm as a trainee.
To have four walls of my own is truly a luxury.
Fifteen square meters that are just mine.
A closet with only my clothes. A bathroom full of my products.
I am grateful. Thankful to the company for giving this to us, for sure.
I worried for a second about sharing a place with Chita, concerned that his leader tendencies would make him difficult to live with.
I learned almost immediately that he’s exactly the same here as he had always been—so wrapped up in his own busy mind and with work that he’s almost like a ghost.
Lucky for me, because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Nikko and Jase’s move-in day.
The totally off-duty version of Kija that I’d been able to see, to study at close range.
Despite the number of times Nikko had elbowed me for blatantly staring, I couldn’t have cared less if anyone caught me.
Kija knows I want him.
I hope he could feel every time my eyes were on him. I hope he went home and thought about it—thought about me. I hope he’s thought about me every day since I dropped by his office, perched on his desk with a pink jeweled plug in my ass, teasing me as I boldly offered myself up to him.
Tugging my shirt up over my head, I toss it aside and kick off my pants and underwear. While living with the other guys did not stop most of us from walking around naked from time to time, it is much nicer to be able to do it in my own space.
Tonight, I want to take advantage of the images that have been replaying in my mind over and over. Let myself sink into the fantasy for a bit.
There had been one moment near the end of day, when everyone had been carrying in the last of Jase’s things that had been in the storage facility.
After Kija set down a box that landed with a heavy thud on the floor, I had watched the flex of his fingers, mesmerized as always by just how sexy his hands were.
My cock had twitched, the very idea of those fingers sliding inside me enough to make my breath catch with the intensity of my desire to feel him.
Now that I am alone—with privacy and freedom—I have time to enjoy myself the way I want to. Slowly, thoroughly, with only one person on my mind.
Pulling the toys that I want to use out of the pricey designer carry-all that they’re now stashed inside of in my fancy walk-in closet, a kind of thrill zips up my spine.
As I quickly wash them in my ensuite sink, I find myself smirking at the reflection in the mirror.
I can see the pink flush across my cheeks and collarbone, hints of it spreading down my chest. Grabbing the bottle of lube I keep hidden behind my hair products, I make my way back to my bed.
I settle into my pillows, instantly imagining what it would be like to lay myself out on Kija’s bed under his lustful gaze. Let my fingertips slide down my chest and over my abs, just like they are now, pausing at my hipbones, hovering so close to where we are both eager for me to touch.
But I want to tease. Him. And myself. I want to hear him breathe my name with a ragged desperation, desire tinged with need.
My heart stutters as I remember the way the syllables fell off his tongue. The way I want him to press his mouth to the soft skin of my thighs, to throw my legs over his shoulders while he kisses and bites all over me until I am crying, begging for him.
I wanted to draw this out, to take my time. But I can’t.
It’s always like this when I think of him.
The way my body craves his touch makes me crazy.
Rolling over, I smack at the mattress blindly until I find the lube, then flip the cap open and spill it all over my fingers in a rush. I can’t wait—can’t go slow enough to be gentle, to leisurely open myself up. I reach between my legs, thrusting two fingers as deep as I can go right away.
The sound I make is wild and broken, like I feel.
I just know he’d watch me writhing on the bed, struggling to reach the right spots.
He’d smirk, because we both know he can give me exactly what I want.
What I need from him. But unlike me, he’s patient; he’ll give me the chance to wear myself out until I’m out of my mind and willing to plead with him.
It’s not enough. I can’t get enough on my own. Even as I rock my hips against the duvet and switch from a steady in-and-out motion to scissoring my fingers, the friction from the fabric only drives me mad, not giving me any sort of relief.
“Hyung,” I whimper, as though he can hear me.
I don’t know how he’d answer, but I want to think he’d tell me how good I was, getting myself ready for him. That he can’t wait to have me, to feel me, to fill me. To remind me why he’s always been the only one.
My whole body twists, searching for more.
I could cry from the tension building inside me, but instead I slip my fingers out as I roll over again.
Quickly, I snatch the dildo I had set aside on my nightstand and raise up on my knees, finding just the right position to have it nudging against my entrance.
I let out one stuttered moan as I drop down, taking nearly the whole length at once. I know it’s reckless, but I like the hint of pain, the burn as I have to adjust. That moment of instant satisfaction, where I’m finally stretched open and so full, is such a rush every time.
It’s so good.
But as I bounce on the toy, slippery hand stroking my own cock, so close to release that my skin is prickling in anticipation, I know it would be even better with him.
The solidness and warmth of his body underneath me, the weight of his gaze and grip of his hands on my hips as I ride him, and the way he would praise me as I take everything he gives me.
Suddenly, I’m right there, gasping as I come, making a mess of myself and the bed cover. I collapse to the side, ease the dildo out slowly, and try to put it on the side table to clean in a moment, but I miss and it rolls off onto the floor.
As I lay here, panting, I am overcome with a kind of loneliness that makes my chest hurt.
I want to roll over into his arms, to snuggle up close and listen to his heartbeat as we both come back to ourselves.
For him to press a kiss to my forehead and tell me that what we have is the best he’s ever had.
To fall asleep tangled up together and know that tomorrow could be more of the same.
No matter how good my imagination is, I’m always going to want more.
To just get a taste of what it could be like to be with someone like him.
No, to be with Kija.
Because there is no one else like him.
And I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else.
I know I could make him happy if he’d just give me a chance.
I have to keep trying.