Behind Closed Doors

“God, where is it?! Why does everything disappear at the most critical moments? I swear I put it in this bag!” Fifteen minutes have passed since Rumi realized she’d forgotten to wear her new cropped jacket — black fabric adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. It perfectly complemented her new look, accentuating her flawless figure. But the real reason she couldn’t go without it was far more serious: it hid the demonic markings sprawling across her skin like venomous snakes. Now, with less than fifty minutes until showtime, Rumi was tearing the dressing room apart in irritation. Cosmetics and accessories lay scattered in chaotic piles. “Why is this damn room so dark? When was the last time they changed the bulbs? This is so infuriating!” In this state, it was best not to disturb her — something she desperately hoped for, since the last thing she wanted was company. But fate had other plans. Her hands froze mid-search, and her stream of curses died as the sound of the door opening and footsteps reached her ears. Her palms turned icy, her heartbeat slowing to a crawl. She turned her head cautiously, bracing for a flood of questions — or worse — while still clinging to the hope that she’d imagined it. “Oh my God, you scared me! I thought it was Mira or Zoey, or someone from staff… but it’s just you.” Rumi exhaled in relief. Her secret was still safe. Almost. “Why are you sneaking up on me like that?” She studied Jinu as he stepped inside, his face unreadable as he closed the door behind him. Rumi couldn’t tell what mood he was in or what he wanted — especially with less than an hour until the concert. “Did you need something? Is something wrong?” “No. I just missed you.” Jinu closed the distance, his warm hands sliding around her waist. “What?” Her irritation flared again, this time directed at his sudden advance. “We haven’t seen each other for a whole half-hour. That’s torture for me. Lately, you’ve been so busy — barely talking to me, barely touching me, always disappearing somewhere. So I got lonely,” he drawled, his voice laced with exaggerated hurt — something Rumi instantly recognized as fake. “Are you serious?” She was too stunned to even process his absurd complaints. But after a moment, she snapped back to reality. “Unlike some people, I actually work! There’s so much to do: preparing the new album, choreographing routines, perfecting them, designing new outfits, recording performances — and that’s not even half of it! And you have the nerve to ask why I—” Her tirade was cut off by his lips crashing into hers. “Got it. No need to keep going,” he murmured smugly before kissing her again. Rumi weakly punched his shoulder, earning a cocky chuckle in response. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist. He set her down on the table, sweeping aside everything on it with one hand. When oxygen became a necessity, they broke apart, gasping. “Shut up,” she whispered. Jinu licked his lips, savoring the faint taste of cherry. He trailed kisses down her neck, leaving wet marks on her skin, then nipped lightly with his small fangs before soothing the spot with his tongue. Sometimes, Rumi wondered if he’d actually devour her one day. His lips traveled lower, teasing and tickling, drawing shivers and soft whimpers from her. Every inch of her skin was worshiped, leaving no space untouched. The first quiet moan escaped her lips as the room grew hotter, sweat beading on their bodies. Clothes clung uncomfortably, the urge to strip them off becoming unbearable. Jinu pulled back, yanking off Rumi’s short leather skirt and fishnet tights before dealing with his own belt and pants. The metallic clink of the buckle snapped Rumi back to reality. “Wait — you want to do this here?” Her voice wavered. “Why not?” He smirked. “Someone could walk in!” She couldn’t believe he was being so reckless. “That just makes it more exciting. Let them see the real you.” “You’re insane! Do you even hear yourself?” she hissed, but the more she argued, the more she realized how impossible he was. “Quiet, baby. Unless you want your loud moans to invite an audience,” Jinu pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. She had no choice but to surrender as he dropped to his knees between her legs. His hands were gentle as he kissed the inside of her thigh, the heat between them building into something unbearable. Wetness pooled at her core, soaking through her underwear. “Already so wet,” he muttered to himself. He peeled off the last barrier, admiring the evidence of her arousal before teasing her entrance with his fingers, circling, dipping inside, then adding another. Her moan was music to his ears, spurring him on. Three fingers later, he deemed her ready. “You good?” “Just get inside me already,” she groaned, impatient. He didn’t need to be told twice. Shedding his boxers, he aligned himself and pushed in slowly. The stretch was enough to send Rumi over the edge instantly, her back arching as she came with a loud cry. Jinu paused, letting her ride out the waves, amused by how quickly she’d fallen apart. When her climax subsided, he resumed thrusting, deeper and faster this time. Rumi whimpered, oversensitive but craving more. He pressed close, licking the sweat from her neck as she clung to him, begging him not to stop. “Rumi? Are you in here?” A voice called from outside the door. “I heard noises — are you okay?” Rumi’s heart stopped. Dread squeezed her chest. If Zoey walked in now, it was over. Everything. Jinu slowed but didn’t stop, relishing the danger. “What are you doing? She heard us! Get up!” Rumi hissed, yanking his hair. “Be quieter, and we’ll be fine,” he taunted. She barely had time to seethe before the doorknob rattled. This was it. Cancelled performances, ruined reputations, expulsion from the group — but nothing happened. The door stayed shut. Locked. “Weird, the door’s locked. She must not be here. Must’ve imagined it,” Zoey’s muffled voice mused before footsteps retreated. “When did you lock the door?” Rumi gaped. “I planned ahead.” He kissed her, smug. With no further interruptions, he resumed his pace, driving her toward another climax. But Rumi wanted more — harder, deeper. She pleaded, and Jinu obliged, his grip on her waist tightening as he thrust into her relentlessly. “So greedy,” he teased. She was close again, teetering on the edge. He could feel his own release approaching, no matter how much he wanted to prolong it. When her hands moved to touch herself, he pinned them above her head. “You’ll come without them. Don’t you dare.” A few more thrusts, and she shattered, her second orgasm crashing over her. Jinu pulled out just in time, spilling onto her thigh. They lay there, catching their breath. Jinu recovered first, cleaning them up with tissues. Aside from a few faint bite marks — easily hidden under clothes — she was unharmed. He helped her dress, and Rumi scowled at her reflection. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smudged. “Look what you did. We have twenty minutes — max. How am I supposed to fix this?” “Relax, we’ll figure it out.” He winked, handing her a cropped jacket — not the one she’d been searching for, but it would have to do. As they left the room, Rumi grumbled about the missing jacket. Jinu played along, assuring her it would turn up. “Rumi.” A hesitant voice called from behind. They turned to see Abby holding the very jacket she’d been looking for. “I overheard you were searching for this, but… I saw Jinu take it from your room earlier. I don’t know why, but I found it with him, so here.” Rumi’s eyes narrowed. “Wait — you planned this? You set me up?” Jinu grinned. “Oops…”