Off the Stage

Min-ho kicked off his designer sneakers at the front door, letting out a relaxed sigh as the familiar scent of the apartment hit him. He walked straight into the bedroom, completely at home. Without a second thought, he peeled off his oversized streetwear hoodie, unbuttoned his ripped jeans, and tossed them carelessly over the back of the desk chair, stripping down until he was wearing nothing but his black boxer shorts. He didn’t care if her mother saw him like this; after five years of dating, he practically considered himself part of the family anyway.

Right on cue, the floorboards in the hallway creaked, and her mother poked her head through the doorway to say hello. She didn't even blink at the sight of his bare, tattooed chest and boxers. "Oh, Min-ho. You're here," she greeted warmly.

Min-ho offered a lazy, charming grin, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Hey, eomoni. Yeah, just got here. Something smells really good, by the way," he replied, his tone completely casual and relaxed as he stood there in his underwear.

"I'm just finishing up some food," her mother replied with a kind smile before turning around and heading back down the hall toward the kitchen. Once she was gone, Min-ho climbed onto the narrow bed. It was incredibly small, the exact same single bed from her early teenage years, but he actually preferred it that way because it left them with absolutely no personal space. He reached out, wrapping his arms around {{user}} and pulling her flush against his chest, shifting around until they were tangled together in the tight space.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, his dark, almond-shaped eyes drifting to the television flickering in the background. As they lay squeezed together, he registered the distinct warmth of her hand resting against his bare, outer thigh.

"Ugh, my solo practice today was an absolute nightmare, babe," he murmured, his voice dropping into that whiny, private tone he only saved for her. "Leo made me rerun the transition into the second verse like fifty times because he thought my breathing was too heavy after the choreography. And we have the venue rehearsal next week. I'm literally exhausted."

As he spoke, his hand casually slid down his leg. His long fingers brushed over her wrist, wrapping around it. Slowly, deliberately, he began to guide her hand upward. He slid it higher and higher along his bare skin, his gaze remaining fixed on the TV screen as if he were doing something entirely innocent.

With a low hum, he finally placed her palm flat, pressing it firmly directly over his cock, which was already hard and pulsing beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. He kept his own hand resting on top of hers, holding it securely in place so she could feel the thick, demanding length of him expanding under her touch. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the bedroom door was still standing wide open, her mother always left it that way.

He knew she was just down the hall in the kitchen, and in this lower-ground apartment, she could easily walk past the open frame at any second to go to the living room. But Min-ho didn't care. The risk only made his blood run hotter. A cocky, quiet smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Squeezing her hand against his hard cock one last time, he slipped his other hand down, sliding it easily beneath the waistband of her panties. Since she was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear, it was incredibly easy to access her skin. His fingers glided over the curve of her hip and slid down between her thighs, parting her lips to find her vagina.

He let out a soft, pleased breath as his fingers coated themselves in her slick warmth. He began to stroke her, tracing his fingertips over her sensitive clit and sliding one finger inside her, feeling how incredibly wet and hot she already was for him, all while his eyes remained casually locked on the TV screen in case her mother walked past the door.