Hyunjin | Puppy

The air in the dressing room was stale, despite the air conditioner being on. It smelled of hairspray, expensive powder, and some elusive, pungent aroma of Hyunjin’s perfume, which seemed to have seeped into the very fabric of the sofa. Somewhere beyond the door, the hive of the film set was humming: sharp commands from the photographer, muted voices of stylists, the rustle of fabrics, and the click of heels. But here, inside, time flowed differently — viscous and heavy, like honey.

Felix barely felt his body. It existed somewhere separately: his legs were stiff and felt like they were made of cotton, his back ached from the endless flights, and his eyes were so heavy it felt as if his eyelids had been filled with lead. The schedule, planned down to the minute for months in advance, weighed on his shoulders heavier than any backpack. Concerts, designer fittings, the catwalk, negotiations about buying a new car, deadlines that threatened to slip… He was only twenty, but he already knew what the price was that you paid for a spot under the spotlights. And that price was measured not only in money, but also in moments like these, when your own heart is pounding somewhere in your throat from fatigue.

He wasn’t sitting on the chair. The chair was empty, awkwardly turned toward the mirror. Felix himself was sitting on Hyunjin’s lap, sideways, leaning his back against Hyunjin’s chest, as if that were the most natural place in the world. The fabric of Hyunjin’s jeans was rough, but his body radiated a lively, enveloping warmth, and Felix, without even noticing it, snuggled closer to him like a cold kitten. His eyes were closed while the makeup artist, Lisa, worked her magic on his face, applying the final touches of a shimmering highlighter to his cheekbones.

– Don’t move, Felix, – she whispered, barely breathing, afraid to break the fragile idyll.

Hyunjin remained silent. His fingers rested on Felix’s waist, stroking the prominent bone of his hip through the thin silk of his shirt. He wasn’t tired. Well, at least not in the same way as Felix. By the age of twenty‑four, he had already learned to manage his energy, to use it in measured doses, reserving a reserve for moments like this. A week without Felix was torture. His own tour, his own concerts, his own magazine covers. All of this felt bland when there was no way to reach that tousle‑haired boy whose eyes darkened with fatigue, yet a shadow of a smile still played on his lips.

Felix had just begun his ascent. His popularity was like a supernova explosion: bright, swift, and inexorable. To stay in that orbit, he had to spin ten times faster than everyone else. Hyunjin saw it, felt that feverish race, that fear of falling. He himself had long been at the top; his throne was firmly in place, and he could afford the luxury of simply sitting here, in the stuffy dressing room, counting Felix’s eyelashes while the other man gathered his strength.

Boredom and greed—that was what drove Hyunjin. Seven days had passed, an eternity without that scent, without that skin. And when his lips, as if of their own accord, touched the delicate skin behind Felix’s ear and then slid lower, to the neck, he couldn’t stop.

The first touch was as light as a feather. The second was more insistent, with a slight bite.

Felix flinched but didn’t open his eyes.

– Hyunjin, – his voice was low and hoarse from fatigue, but irritation was already boiling up inside him. – Stop.

Instead of answering, Hyunjin merely smirked, and that smirk tickled Felix’s skin. He touched the same spot with his lips again, this time more forcefully, sucking at the skin and leaving a faint, pinkish mark on the pale neck.

– Hyunjin! – Felix opened his eyes wide. In the mirror opposite, he saw their reflections: himself, disheveled, with cheekbones glistening from highlighter, but with a gaze burning with anger, and Hyunjin, so damn pleased with himself, with a lazy smile on his lips. –Stop kissing my neck! There will be hickeys there now, and the whole contract will be for nothing! I have a photoshoot in ten minutes - do you even have a clue?!

Lisa, standing next to the eyeshadow palette, froze, pretending that she was suddenly very interested in the brush. The air in the room became charged.

– Hysterics don’t suit you, Felix, – Hyunjin purred, without taking his hands off his waist. On the contrary, he tightened his grip a little more, pulling the younger man even closer, so that Felix’s back pressed firmly against his chest. – But even they make you charming.

– I’m not hysterical, – Felix hissed, trying to pull away. But his body betrayed him: instead of getting up, he just twitched in his arms like a trapped bird. – I’m talking about work. About the contract. The thing is, if the makeup artists can’t cover up your artwork, I’ll have problems!

– Problems are solvable, – Hyunjin remarked philosophically, hooking his finger under the collar of Felix’s shirt and glancing at the spot where a crimson mark was already starting to bloom. His gaze became satisfied, like a cat that’s just found itself a bowl of cream. – But I have a problem. I haven’t seen you in a week. And I’m bored.

– He’s bored, – Felix grumbled, trying to make his voice sound firm, but it didn’t work. Hyunjin’s warmth, his hands, that damned smell — all of it lulled his vigilance, extinguished the flare‑up of anger, leaving behind only a pleasant, tingling fatigue. – Find yourself a toy.

– Why? – Hyunjin leaned right next to Felix’s ear, and the hot whisper sent shivers down Felix’s spine. – I already have a favorite toy. True, she works too much and doesn’t spend any time with me.

Hyunjin’s hand slid up Felix’s thigh, caressing, teasing. Felix caught himself closing his eyes again. The mirror opposite reflected them, but he didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see.

– I have a schedule, – he protested weakly, but it wasn’t really an objection anymore; rather, it was an attempt to remind himself of reality.

– You have ten minutes, – Hyunjin’s voice was soft and enveloping, yet it carried a steely edge. – And I intend to make good use of them.

He pressed his lips to Felix’s neck again, but this time the kiss was different. It was gentle, almost apologetic. He kissed every vertebra, moving down to the shoulder, nipping at the skin through the fabric of the shirt, leaving wet trails.

Felix sighed quietly, resignedly. His fingers clenched on Hyunjin’s knees, but he didn’t push him away. Instead, for a second, just for one brief moment, he allowed himself to melt, tilting his head back and exposing his neck to those demanding lips.

– You’re unbearable, – he whispered, and there was no anger in his voice. Only fatigue and some kind of secret, forbidden tenderness.

– But you’re mine, – Hyunjin replied just as quietly, leaving a final kiss in the hollow between his collarbones.

Lisa, standing with her back to them, pretending to adjust the light by the mirror, stole a glance at their reflection. Hyunjin looked at Felix as if he were the only source of light in this stuffy, lacquer‑scented room. And Felix, whose makeup needed to be touched up again, looked as if he’d just been brought back to life.

The schedule was disrupted. Time had stopped.

But, as always, it was Felix who had to ruin the moment. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and sighed heavily.

– I have to be at the set in eight minutes.

– I’ll give you a ride, – Hyunjin finally loosened his grip, letting Felix stand up.

Felix’s legs really gave way, and he almost fell back into his arms. Hyunjin held him by the hand, and for a moment their fingers intertwined. Felix pulled his hand away too abruptly, but Hyunjin just smiled.

– What? – Felix smoothed his hair, looking up at Hyunjin. – What are you looking at me like that for?

– Nothing, – Hyunjin stretched his legs, enjoying the way Felix was tidying himself up, the blush spreading across his cheeks. – I’m just already missing you.

Felix rolled his eyes, but a smile hid at the corners of his lips, no matter how hard he tried. He headed for the door, feeling the intense gaze on him.