This story was inspired by this moodboard of my friend Kookieaddict22 so i add it here:
(Ps: check her out, she's an amazing author)
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The annual spring rock festival has two of the most popular rival rockbands collide, and with them their equally infamous frontmen JK and V, who had a passionate past together. But that was BEFORE.
"stealing my style again, gukkie?"
"style? What style? I just see a dead flower hanging from your belt", he snorted.
"mmh, i remember last time i had your hand in there",Taehyung steps closer, cornering the other.
"that was ages ago. I had better places to put my hands in."
Taehyung slammed the other against the wall, Holding his collar with one hand, face way too close.
"Listen here, shithead. No one... No one is better than me."
Jk pushed the other away
"still the same dickhead"
He walked past the other, but V held him back by his jeans pocket, whispering in his ear:
"if you need said dick, meet me after i outperformed you",his hands slid to his naked waist, squeezing.
"you mean when i outperformed YOU."
V chuckled "wanna make a bet? If they cheer louder for us, i'm gonna get your ass tonight."
"and if you lose?"
"then you get mine."
Jungkook felt heat crawling up his face, but he yanked himself free from the other
"Keep dreaming."
Taehyung watched how the other walked away to his backstage room, his ass looking way too sexy in those denim jeans as it swayed from left to right, he couldn't look away.
His teeth grazed over his bottom lips as he checked him out, tempted to whistle.
Leaning against the wall, he unpacked his lollipop and pushed it into his mouth to stop himself giving in to the temptation.
He may be greedy, but he's not desperate.
The other will give in anyway, he knows it. Either from his need to compeed against him or maybe because he misses him too under all that anger and built hostility.
He pushed his hands into his pants pocket before he walked back too, getting ready for his performance.
He can't stop his mind to go back to how they met three years ago, how they made music together, how his lips felt on his, or the curve of his ass under his hands.
How dark his pretty doe eyes turned once he gave himself to him.
How their passionate desire for each other was marked on top of the black piano, on the ground of the band room, his scent all over his bedsheets in his shaby little apartment, right under the posters of his favourite bands.
