Post Concert Gift

“Do you see her?”

“Y—yeah.”

Her hand moves underneath your jacket. “You’re going to fuck her after this.”

Her hand slides easily along your length, warm and slick with precum. She pays extra attention to the head, circling the ridge with her thumb. You groan, hips jerking up every now and again. She speeds up—faster and relentless—only squeezing the base when she feels you throbbing too much. The crowd roars at something on stage. If it weren’t for the concert, you’re certain the audience in front of you would hear you.

You hear a sigh over Karina’s shoulder. The manager stands there, watching, biting her bottom lip, her hand clenching by her side. She walks off only when she’s caught looking.

You look down at your lap, jacket now on the floor, watching the obvious movements of her hand underneath your sweats, the outline of her grip visible. The fabric darkens with precum, a growing wet spot where she focuses on the head.

Your breathing is still ragged, the concert bass vibrating through your seat. After a moment, you’re finally able to speak. “Is that why I’m here? To fuck your friend?”

She takes her time looking at you, dragging her gaze away from the stage where her friend is performing like it’s an after thought. Her eyes are darker than usual, pupils blown wide. Her tongue darts out, licking her lips.

“Of course. And before you say anything, Ningning agreed to share you with us, remember?”

You shift in your seat. “I don’t think she meant with people outside the group. I don’t think she meant it at all honestly”

She squeezes you a bit too hard, pressure spiking from pleasure to pain. You wince, trying to jerk away, but she holds you down, her grip not loosening. Karina waits until you stop struggling, until you look at her properly.

“Are you really complaining right now? I flew you to her concert so you can fuck her and you’re complaining?”

You open your mouth. Close it. She’s right. Why are you arguing?

“If half the things she tells me are true, you’re going to love me for bringing you.” You exhale shakily as she loosens her grip on your cock before stroking again, slowly, delicately—maddeningly so, just enough pressure to keep you close but not enough to tip you over the edge.

“Y—yeah? But if you keep this up, I might not be able to.”

“Huh, you’re right.” Her hand immediately leaves your sweats. The absence is devastating, leaving you throbbing, cock twitching against the fabric, precum still soaking through. You stare at her, eyes pleading, but she’s already turned back to the stage.

“Karina—”

She doesn’t even look at you. Your hand moves toward your lap. She catches your wrist without turning her head, slaps it away. “Don’t.” You’re left to watch the rest of the concert with her, aching, untouched. The music thrums through your seat, the crowd screams and jumps, and all you can think about is your cock straining against your sweats.

The setlist says there are only ten songs left.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Relax. It’s all part of the fun.” She tightens the blindfold on your head. The room darkens. The rope tying your hands together digs into your skin, the air conditioning blows cool air onto your hard, aching cock, making you shiver. Karina reaches out with one finger, dragging her nails from the base to the underside of your head. You can’t help but moan, your cock twitching, your toes curling at the sensation.

“Karina… please…” you hate how desperate you sound. Your hips move on their own, thrusting into nothing. “I need—” She laughs, low and cruel, slaps the head of your cock multiple times. You groan, from pleasure or pain, you don’t know anymore.

You feel the bed dip beside you, her lips on your ears, licking the shell before whispering. “Not yet. It’s rude to play with someone else’s gift.”

A knock on the door catches both your attention.

“She’s here,” she whispers into your ear. Karina forces her tongue into your mouth, dominating you as she slowly circles the slit with her nail. You can’t help but leak more.

She moves, leaving you on the bed when another knock rings through the room. You hear her feet softly padding against the floor until she reaches the door to the hotel room, hear the chain slide, the lock clicking open. Your heart hammers against your chest, eager, anticipating.

The door closes with a heavy thud. You hear two sets of feet now making their way to you, can hear them whisper. It’s loud enough for you to catch some of it.

“… Rina—I don’t know.”

“… he’s been waiting for this. Has been since the concert. I told him some of the stuff you told me, you know.”

“Still…”

“He’s your gift. Whether you play with him or not is up to you. I’m going to have fun with him. You do what you normally do after that post concert high.”

Your cock throbs at the implication, breathing out of control. They’re a lot closer now. The sound of their footfalls louder.

You hear a gasp—sharp, surprised, your head jerking in the direction of the sound, your arms pulling against the restraints. Your breath comes in shallow bursts, the only sound you can hear besides the ringing in your ears from the concert.

The wait is long. You don’t hear them anymore, and it’s driving you crazy, your cock twitches non-stop, leaking steadily onto your stomach. Your heart is beating so fast in anticipation that you feel like you could die. Your trembling now, from fear or need or both.

“Pl—please… Karina, I—“

The silence is worse than the teasing. At least when Karina was touching you, you knew your place. Now? Nothing. Just your aching cock, your ragged breathing, and the darkness behind the blindfold.

A clothed hand slowly grips your shaft, and immediately you groan loudly, not caring how pathetic and desperate you sound, hips lifting off the bed for more. It’s not Karina’s hand, the grip feels stronger, more deliberate, without being tight.

Your breath catches. This is her. This is Ryujin.

The silken hand feels wonderful, the cool fabric a sharp contrast to your warm cock. The slight texture of the cloth is exquisite, the way it catches on your skin. You let out a shaky breath. The hand isn’t moving, just holding you there, like it’s feeling the weight of you in her palm.

“It’s so…heavy. And warm. He’s really been like this all concert?”

“Yeah…every time he saw you on the big screen, he throbbed.”

Your cock twitches in Ryujin’s hand at the admission, betraying you.

You feel the bed dip on either side of you, another hand—Karina’s hand—wrapping around your head while Ryujin continues holding your shaft. Your hips try to thrust into their hands, desperate for friction, but Karina’s other hand lands on your thigh, pressing down firmly. “No,” she says quietly. You freeze.

“Look what you’ve done to him. Are you really not going to play with him? After he sat through the entire concert, hard and full, waiting for you?” You hear the mock pity in her voice. Your face burns with humiliation and arousal. “He’s been looking forward to this.” She clicks her tongue, like she’s disappointed for you.

You can’t take it anymore, your breathing quick, any sense of pride gone. “Ryujin…please…” you half beg, half sob.

You flinch when you feel her clothed hand on your cheek, caressing it gently before pressing her lips to yours. She pushes her tongue into your mouth and you let her, tasting mint and something sweet. You let her take what she wants from you. When you separate, a thin line of spit the only thing connecting you, she says something that has you shivering in want.

“Toys don’t speak.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your cock throbs, betraying how much the degradation affects you.

Ryujin goes for your mouth again, rougher, more forceful than before, stealing your breath away. You can’t help the groan that escapes your throat. Ryujin shifts, one leg over your body before straddling your stomach, her mouth never leaving yours. Her hand moves from your cheek to your throat, wrapping around it, pressing firmly enough to feel your pulse. You inhale sharply, eyes opening uselessly, and you feel your cock twitching uncontrollably. You might cum without ever being inside of her. Just from this—her weight on you, her hand on your throat, the helplessness.

A sharp pain rushes up your spine. Karina. She has a hold on your balls, squeezing them, pulling them. You hiss, body writhing underneath Ryujin, your hands trying to break free from their binds. Your breathing is a mess, no longer on the edge of orgasm.