Backup Dancer

Backup Dancer

by Jaewon

Out of nowhere, sweat trickled down your neck beneath those harsh white beams hanging high above. Floorboards trembled from the noise below - waves of voices howling for Karina while she twisted across the spotlit space, fierce and fluid. Not her though. You stood in shadow, dressed in dark fabric meant to disappear within the moves. Yet somehow, this time, air itself seemed heavier around you.

That moment two weeks back in rehearsal stuck with Karina. A beat longer than normal, her gaze held on you right after the last move snapped into place - dampness tracing your collarbone. She spoke once we finished going through it all: “You’re good,” came out quiet, rough like paper dragged over stone. Then she added, stay near me when we reach the bridge section. You gave a single nod, vision flickering toward how her tank rested against her frame, that faint lift of her jawline catching light. Up close, she carried a kind of stillness - fair skin humming beneath overhead beams, thick black strands knotted loosely at her nape, mouth shaped softly like she already knew something you didn’t.

A twist of fate put you on set with aespa's Karina - just another day for someone starting out, or so it seemed at first. Luck played its hand when paths crossed, though nothing signaled what was coming next. What began as a routine collaboration quietly shifted into something deeper, without warning.

---

A sudden burst of sparks lit up the exit, ending it all. Backstage, you sat on a folding chair, pressing a damp cloth to your forehead, every limb heavy from dancing too hard. Voices buzzed around you - laughter, quick words - but your gaze stuck to one spot: the gap in Karina’s door. Light spilled out when it shifted, then she stepped through. Still dressed in that tight glittered crop top, low-cut enough to hint at what lay beneath, paired with short athletic shorts hugging strong thighs. A faint streak of faded eyeliner ran down her cheek, softened by sweat, giving her an unguarded look, closer to how someone might appear just after waking.

"Hey," she said, her voice low, motioning you closer. Around her, workers folded chairs, zipping duffel bags, eyes elsewhere. Dinner - free after rehearsal? There was something on her mind, something about the dance steps. A quiet thing, best shared between bites.

Your stomach flipped. "Yeah, of course. Lead the way."

A real smile spread across her face, tugging at the corners of her eyes, then she yanked a hoodie over her performance outfit. Behind her you walked, slipping out the rear door toward a van idling in the dark. There were no crowds this time - her choice, kept small on purpose. At first, silence filled the drive to the hotel, streetlights smearing into streaks beyond the glass. Her scent lingered - the soft punch of flowers tangled with the bare trace of stage-worn skin. That smell pulled hard.

Down went her heels, one by one, as she dropped onto the couch. She tapped the cushion beside her. Take a seat. My stomach is empty, yet nothing too filling sounds right. Maybe ramyeon? Or just something light?

You sat, skin tingling where her leg touched your leg. Ramyeon sounded just right

As the hotel workers brought the meal, conversation unfolded. Deeply unfolding too. Questions came from her - about where you learned to dance, what pulled you toward it, those standout nights traveling stage to stage. When you mentioned slipping mid-audition, her laugh floated up like foam on soda. You’re charming when caught off guard, she said with a grin, jabbing your arm gently. That warmth stayed past the moment.

You started sharing more, saying how much she lifted people just by being on stage. That honesty seemed to catch her off guard. Her face turned a soft shade of red. Don’t go there, she said quietly, almost laughing - then paused. Still… I appreciate it. Lately everything has weighed heavy. All those demands. The constant watching. Tonight though? With you here? Feels different. Quiet. Good

The ramyeon showed up. You sat on the floor, legs folded, eating like children who forgot chairs existed. Glances slipped between bites, quick and quiet. A soft kind of pull crept in - slow, almost shy. Her foot touched yours, light, teasing. Reaching for a napkin, your fingers grazed her hand by accident - or maybe not. Bowls emptied without words. Silence now felt heavy, full of things left hanging.

Back she fell onto the cushions, arms rising high. The fabric tugged upward, showing a line of bare waist. Funny thing - on that crossing just now… when you pulled me off my feet? I noticed how firm your grip was. Calm

Your heart raced. "I didn't want to drop you. Ever."

A shadow passed across Karina’s face, softening into something deeper. Her wide eyes shifted, holding more heat now. The edge of her mouth caught between her teeth. Move closer

You edged nearer, while she cradled your face, drawing you into a kiss. Soft at first - it unfolded slow, gentle, like the airy love tales hidden in your late-night reading. Warmth bloomed where her mouth met yours, tinged with traces of hot soup. Momentum shifted. Her tongue grazed yours, followed by a quiet sound slipping from her throat. Hips pressed close as your palms settled on her sides, lifting her gently to sit across your legs.

"God, I've wanted this," she whispered against your mouth, grinding lightly against you. "Since the first rehearsal. You looking at me like that..."

---

The hoodie was gone, thrown down without care. Then the stage top slipped off too, showing a black lace bra stretched tight over her round, high breasts. Eyes locked there, caught in the moment. A giggle rose from Karina - soft, teasing, barely held back. “See something you like, backup dancer?”

Almost a whisper, you said it, palms gliding along her ribs. Her back lifted toward you when the clasp gave way, fabric falling, skin meeting open air. Round shapes filled your view, tender under light, pink tips tightening as chill brushed them. Between them dipped your lips, warm breath first, then slow pull of mouth on one peak. A sharp intake came from her, hands weaving into your strands.

That's it," she said, her words soft with a hint of air between them.

Your mouth moved gently then firmly across her chest, one moment teasing, the next gripping tight. Her back arched as fingers traced downward, slipping lower. Rocking into you now, each grind sharpened the heat building beneath your skin. “Get rid of this,” she whispered, pulling at the fabric stretched over your shoulders. Off came the shirt in a rush, and her touch followed - slow, deliberate scratches tracing muscle shaped by motion and time. Strength lived there, visible, real, something she didn’t look away from

Back you go, a soft press sending you into the cushions. Down she glides, smooth like silk over stone, settling low between your spread thighs. Her gaze stays fixed, unblinking, while her fingers work your belt free. Out it comes - hard, heavy, pulsing in the open air. A slow wet drag across her mouth. Whispered words hang close: "Look at you… ready to melt me from the inside."