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Kim Gyuvin and Shen Quan Rui are the two most talked about names in the industry right now, two sides of the same coin that no one can seem to look at without choosing one over the other.
People love talking about them like they already know everything there is to know.
They take what they see and turn it into something solid. Rivals. Comparisons. Almost something more, depending on who you ask. It changes with every headline, every new clip that gives just enough to speculate and nothing more.
It works because there is never anything to contradict it. Nothing real enough to hold onto, nothing that lingers past what is shown, past what is allowed.
Everything between them is clean, distant, easy to explain. At least, that is how it looks. Until something slips, something that was never meant to exist outside of one night.
And by the time Ricky wakes up with a splitting headache and no memory of how he got home, it is already too late to take it back.
His head throbs the moment he opens his eyes, sharp and immediate, like something splitting behind his temples, and a quiet groan slips past his lips as he presses his hand against his forehead, fingers digging in slightly like it might ease the pressure. Well, it doesn’t.
Everything feels wrong.
The light is too bright, spilling in through the curtains like it has no right to be there, the air too still, his body heavier than it should be, like it does not quite belong to him yet. There is a faint taste of alcohol at the back of his throat, bitter and lingering, and beneath it, something else he cannot name, something that settles uneasily in his chest.
Ricky exhales slowly and forces himself to sit up, the movement sending another wave of pain through him that makes him pause, shoulders tensing as he steadies himself. For a moment, he stays like that, slightly hunched forward, trying to gather what he can.
Last night is there, just out of reach. Not gone, not completely, just blurred, distant, slipping the second he tries to focus on it.
There are fragments of what happened last night: dim lights, music low enough to feel more than hear, the shape of someone sitting across from him, closer than a stranger should be. A voice, quiet, almost right against his ear, the brief press of something warm, something that lingers longer than it should.
His brows draw together. He should remember, but he doesn’t.
His phone buzzes beside him, abrupt enough to pull him out of the haze, the screen lighting up the second he reaches for it, notifications stacking over each other like they’ve been waiting for him to wake. And there it is, a name that claws at him even when he tries to forget, familiar and unavoidable—Kim Gyuvin.
Ricky’s jaw tightens, almost unnoticeable, his grip on the phone shifting before he locks the screen again and lets it fall back onto the bed. Of course. It is always him, the same articles, the same comparisons, the same expectations built around something neither of them has ever confirmed.
He exhales quietly, dragging a hand through his hair as he forces himself to stand, the room tilting for a second before settling, and he ignores it.
Whatever happened last night, whatever fragments of memory refuse to surface, it does not matter. He has work to do, and just thinking about the day ahead makes his chest tighten in a way he cannot shake. That alone is enough to pull him from the bed.
The studio smells like coffee and polish, the faint tang of makeup lingering in the air. Cameras, lights, and crew move around him like a tide he can’t quite step out of, but he flows with it anyway. Every step echoes in his head, reminding him of last night in ways he refuses to name.
And then he sees him.
Kim Gyuvin is there, leaning against a table with that careless smile that somehow always manages to make him feel off-balance, even before he speaks. His presence fills the space without trying, like he belongs to every frame, every corner of the room, and somehow, impossibly, to Ricky.
Ricky swallows and keeps his expression neutral. He’s worked with people before. He’s handled co-stars. He’s survived press tours, scandals, comparisons.
But Gyuvin has a way of making every rule he’s ever set for himself feel pointless. A glance, a tilt of his head, and Ricky’s stomach twists in recognition he can’t quite place yet.
“Ricky,” Gyuvin says, voice low, casual, teasing, as if he already knows every thought threading through Ricky’s mind.
Ricky clenches his jaw and nods, forcing the words out smooth and detached. “Gyuvin.”
And just like that, the air between them shifts, charged and brittle, and Ricky knows that no matter what he tells himself, nothing about today is going to be simple.
The studio hums around him but Ricky can feel nothing except the heat curling in his chest. Cameras click, lights hum, crew chatter fades into white noise. All he notices is Gyuvin, leaning casually against the table with that effortless smirk and sharp eyes like he already knows exactly what Ricky is thinking.
“You really think that scene was convincing?” Ricky snaps, trying to keep it professional. His hands curl around his script tighter than necessary. “Because last I checked, it looked amateur.”
Gyuvin tilts his head, eyes glinting, slow and deliberate. “Amateur? Funny, that is not exactly what you were saying while you were loudly moaning my name last night.”
Ricky freezes, stomach twisting, blood rushing hot to his face. His throat tightens, words catching. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Gyuvin leans in, voice low, deliberate, every word dripping with mischief and something darker. “Oh, should I remind you how I made you feel so good last night? The things you begged for while I was inside you. How you arched your back, pressed your chest to me, gasping, forgetting everything else. The way your hands fisted in the sheets, how your body trembled every time I moved…”
Ricky’s knees almost weaken, heat flooding through him in a wave he can no longer resist. The dim lights, the loud music, the way Gyuvin had been impossibly close, impossibly warm, all came crashing back. Every nerve screams, every heartbeat hammers, his chest tight, stomach twisting, mind spinning.
Memories snap piece by piece, vivid and undeniable. The night, the press of skin, the moans, the grip, the way Gyuvin had claimed him in ways he never expected, ways he didn’t even remember wanting but now cannot forget. His hands tremble slightly at his sides as reality presses in. Last night wasn’t a blur. It was sharp, real, and entirely, painfully alive.
It all started when Ricky’s manager told him they were going to a party. A party thrown for industry people, something about promotion, connections, faces that needed to be seen and remembered. The kind of place he usually tolerates, smiles through, leaves early if he can.
He hadn’t wanted to go.
But refusing wasn’t really an option. Not when his name was starting to carry weight, not when every appearance mattered, not when people were already watching him closely, waiting for the next move, the next headline, the next mistake.
So he went.
The place was already loud by the time he arrived, lights dim and shifting, music low but heavy enough to settle into his chest. People filled the space, voices overlapping, laughter spilling too easily, drinks passed from hand to hand like it meant nothing.
Ricky stayed near the edge at first, a drink in his hand more for appearance than anything else, eyes scanning without really focusing. Conversations blurred into each other. Faces came and went. None of it stuck.
Until it did.
Because across the room, leaning back like he had nowhere else to be, like the entire place bent around him without trying, was Kim Gyuvin.
And just like that, everything shifted.
Ricky can’t remember how they got to this point. All he knows is that his hands are gripping the fabric of Gyuvin’s shirt, that he’s half in his lap in the far corner of the bar where the lights barely reach, where no one is looking, where no one will see. The music is loud enough to swallow everything, heavy and pulsing through his chest.
Gyuvin’s hand is at the back of his neck, firm, grounding, keeping him there. Keeping him close. Ricky’s thoughts blur, slipping, dissolving into the heat curling low in his chest, and for a moment he just looks at him, breathing unevenly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
Ricky tilts his head, just a subtle tilt, but it’s invitation enough—go ahead, take what you want from me, devour me. taste and swallow every part of me. Gyuvin’s mouth crashes back onto his, hungry and unyielding, while the hand gripping his nape trails down to clamp around his waist. With a firm shove, Ricky’s back slams against the smooth wooden paneling of the private bar’s hidden alcove, the thud echoing softly in the empty space. The force steals his breath, his lips parting in a sharp gasp. Gyuvin seizes the moment, his tongue thrusting inside to claim Ricky’s mouth fully, turning that gasp into a low, needy moan that vibrates between them.
Gyuvin pulls back just enough to grant him one more searing kiss, lips lingering with a promise of more, before his hands press down on Ricky’s shoulders, guiding him firmly to his knees on the cool, shadowed floor of the alcove. Ricky gazes up, heart pounding, meeting Gyuvin’s darkened eyes and that arched eyebrow—a silent command that demands he deliver pleasure without hesitation.
His fingers wrap slowly around the base of Gyuvin’s cock, already hard and straining against the fabric of his Prada pants. Ricky parts his lips, tongue extending flat and eager, tracing a long, deliberate lick from root to tip. Those wide doe eyes lock onto Gyuvin’s face the whole time, drinking in the instant response: a deep groan rumbles from Gyuvin’s chest, brows knitting together in raw need. Emboldened, Ricky repeats the motion, slower this time, savoring the salty taste and the way Gyuvin’s hand shoots out to brace against the alcove’s wooden wall for support.
Confidence surges through him at those reactions, and Ricky finally envelops the head with his mouth, warm and wet. Gyuvin’s palm settles on his nape, fingers threading into his hair with possessive pressure, drawing out another muffled moan from Ricky as he slides further down. His jaw relaxes fully, tongue pressing flat along the underside of the shaft, feeling every vein pulse against it. Gyuvin bites his own lip hard, stifling louder sounds to keep their secret in this hidden spot, but the tension in his body betrays him—shoulders rigid, thighs flexing under Ricky’s tentative grip.
Ricky’s own arousal throbs painfully between his legs, soaking through his own pants, but the embarrassment fades under the thrill of it all. He craves these signs of unraveling in Gyuvin: the taut lines of his frame, the effort to stay composed, the restraint cracking bit by bit. The heft of that cock fills his mouth perfectly, heavy on his tongue, stretching his lips wide as he gives everything. He sinks lower, inch by inch, nearly reaching the base now, nose brushing against coarse hair.
“Shit,” Gyuvin breathes out above him, voice ragged and low. “You feel so warm— and good. You’re finally using— that pretty mouth of yours in work. I—” A sharp groan cuts him off as Ricky pushes forward, taking him all the way down, and earning another messy moan from Gyuvin.
Ricky bobs his head experimentally, fluttering his lashes up at Gyuvin in silent plea: more, tell me more, praise me. The words come, husky and approving: “You’re so—so pretty like this. On your knees, with my cock down your throat.”
The air thickens around them, Ricky’s thoughts fogging over with lust. A soft whimper escapes him at the praise, thighs clenching together to ease the ache building low in his gut. He knows he’s pretty—idols and actors thrive on it, compliments thrown his way constantly, but this hits deeper, scratching an itch he never named, making him feel seen and owned. Through his own stifled moans and Gyuvin’s breathy grunts, the dominant one rasps, “Fuck, a lot of people see us as enemies, but they don’t know that behind closed doors, you’re kneeling in front of me, my cock in your mouth, pleasuring me like this.”
Emboldened further, Ricky sucks with renewed vigor, head rising and falling in a steady rhythm, tongue swirling around the length to tease every sensitive spot. Drool slips from the corners of his mouth, slicking his chin, but he doesn’t pause, lost in the act. He hollows his cheeks, drawing harder, determined to push Gyuvin over the edge without mercy.
Gyuvin moans louder now, the hand at Ricky’s nape tightening into a bruising hold, fingers digging in as control slips. Ricky hums around the cock, vibrations sending shocks through Gyuvin, who’s teetering right there. “No one other than me should see you like this.” Ricky's belly twists hot at the possessiveness, his own hands clutching Gyuvin’s thighs for balance, knees aching from the hard floor but ignored in the haze. “If they do, you better make sure I’m the only one they ever see you with.” A guttural groan interrupts as Gyuvin’s hips buck, his free hand shoving Ricky’s head down firmly. “In that case, they’d know you’re all mine.”
The push forces Ricky to the hilt again, held there as Gyuvin’s body tenses, head tipping back against the wall, eyes clenched shut. Hot spurts flood Ricky’s throat, thick and pulsing, and he swallows greedily around it, the bitter-salt tang coating his tongue just as expected.
Ricky knelt on the gritty floor of the alcove, both men heaving for breath after the heated blowjob. The air hung thick with the scent of spilled drinks and their shared arousal, the bar’s muffled chatter a distant hum beyond the shadowed partition that kept them concealed. Gyuvin’s hand shot out, yanking Ricky’s collar to drag him up into a fierce kiss, lips crashing together with raw hunger.
Ricky who is on the ground moments ago is now sitting on the younger man’s lap, their bodies pressing close in the cramped space. Gyuvin plunged deeper into the kiss, nipping at Ricky’s lower lip before his tongue followed, tasting the lingering salt of his own release. As Ricky melted into the sensation, Gyuvin peeled away layers of clothing, exposing the older man’s pale, supple skin that glowed faintly in the low light. It drove Gyuvin insane, a surge of possessiveness flooding him. He needed to mark and claim every inch Ricky.
He began with soft presses of his lips to Ricky’s cheeks, trailing down to the sensitive curve of his neck, then the spot behind his ear that made Ricky shiver. Lower still, to the sharp line of his collarbone. Gyuvin stayed there, his tongue flicking out to trace the bone before he latched on, sucking hard enough to bloom red marks across the skin.
Ricky’s responses came in soft whimpers, each one fueling Gyuvin’s fire. He felt the older man shift, hips rolling forward to grind against his own, seeking friction. Gyuvin allowed it for now, too absorbed in moving to Ricky’s chest. His mouth closed over one nipple, sucking with building force as Ricky’s moans grew louder, more desperate. The harder Ricky cried out, the more Gyuvin lavished attention, teeth grazing just enough to sting.
“If only others could witness you like this, wrecked right here for me,” Gyuvin murmured, positioning the tip of his cock at Ricky’s entrance. He watched Ricky’s features twist in that exquisite blend of ecstasy and ache as he eased in the head. “Desperate for my cock to be inside you.”
A sharp moan tore from Ricky’s throat when Gyuvin thrust forward, sheathing the full length in one smooth motion. The tight clench around him pulled a guttural groan from Gyuvin, his forehead creasing as he savored the velvet heat enveloping his shaft. He held back, muscles taut, letting Ricky acclimate to the stretch in their secluded nook.
Ricky’s trembling fingers clutched at Gyuvin’s neck, drawing their faces near until noses brushed. “Please, I need you to fuck me, I need you inside of me, and drive me crazy.”
Gyuvin snapped his hips up, the force jolting Ricky’s body against the alcove wall. Ricky gasped, every ridge and pulse of Gyuvin’s cock scraping along his inner walls, sending sparks through his core. He nearly choked on a swallow as the rhythm accelerated, each slam pushing him harder into the rough surface behind him.
Soon, Gyuvin’s palms gripped Ricky’s thighs, hoisting them higher, spreading him wide and vulnerable in the dim corner. The slick slide of skin on skin produced wet, lewd sounds from Ricky’s hole, amplified in the tight space, mingling with their ragged breaths.
Exposure hit Ricky like a wave; he lifted his hands to shield his flushed face. Only Gyuvin could unravel him this way, leaving him raw and overwhelmed in the shadows of the bar.
And of course, Gyuvin notices it, so he decided to test and tease ricky’s limit by pushing his length more.
Ricky trembled against the wall, eyes stinging with unshed tears. He met Gyuvin’s gaze, struck by the feral desire burning there, a mirror to his own churning need.
“Don’t cover up your face. I want to see how pretty you are while taking me and when i fill you up with my cum.”
Gyuvin adjusted, draping one of Ricky’s legs over his shoulder for deeper access, his free hand wrapping around the older man’s dripping cock. The stroke drew a high wail from Ricky, his hips bucking erratically to chase the dual assault.
The alcove filled with their frantic cries, the partition creaking faintly under the onslaught. Noise be damned; pleasure drowned out everything, Ricky’s world narrowing to the ache building low in his belly, the desperate urge to shatter under Gyuvin’s control.
Hearing the older man’s loud moans might just have been Gyuvin’s favorite sound. He likes it so much how Ricky says his name breathlessly between the kisses and whenever he’s fucking the older man.
“You’re so good to me, baby.” Gyuvin said with a low laugh, eyes fixed on Ricky's lip caught between his teeth from a brutal drive. Beads of sweat trailed down his temple, his glasses slipping slightly on his nose.
“I—” Ricky stuttered, sight hazy. “I'm almost there, fuck”
“Yeah? Fall apart on my dick.”
Gyuvin leaned in, fingers digging into Ricky's thighs to pry him open wider. He pounded without mercy, targeting that spot that made Ricky arch and keen.
“Shit, shit, shit, fuck!” Ricky's head knocked back against the wall, jaw slack. Tension seized him, release crashing as ropes of cum painted their torsos.
The sight nearly undid Gyuvin on the spot—Ricky utterly spent, body quaking with aftershocks, sobs hitching in his chest. It was the most intoxicating image, one Gyuvin craved endlessly.
In that moment a dark and nasty idea comes in his mind. He wants to see how desperate the other man can be in this moment. He wants to see how many ways he can ruin Ricky, how many times Ricky will fall apart beneath him, how far he can push until Ricky is nothing but a mess he made.
“Look at you, you’re such a huge yet pretty mess right now. Do you want me to fill you up, baby?”
“Nggh—Fucker. Shut up and just fill me up”
In that moment, Gyuvin finds Ricky ridiculously adorable, even with the way he acts out, all bratty defiance and sharp edges. It only makes him want to push, to see how long that attitude lasts before it melts into something softer, something he can take apart piece by piece.
“Sure,” he murmurs, a hint of a smirk in his voice, “but you’ll have to beg for it first.”
“Please, please, please give it to me! Fuck—please, Gyuvin,” Ricky babbled, nerves firing from the overstimulation.
Those words shattered Gyuvin’s restraint. How could he deny such a stunning plea? His hips stuttered, cries spilling as he buried himself deep, filling the other man’s hole until it overflowed. He slumped forward, their sweat-slicked forms tangled, breaths syncing in the afterglow of their hidden frenzy.
Gyuvin stayed buried inside a moment longer, grinding lazily to push his load deeper, marking Ricky from within. When he withdrew, the sight of Ricky’s puffy entrance clenching around nothing drew a possessive growl from his throat. He scooped up some of the dripping cum on his fingers, sliding them back in to plug it.
“Keep this in you all night. Feel me every time you move.”
Ricky's breath hitched, nodding through the fresh sparks of pleasure, his cock twitching half-hard again. Gyuvin sealed it with a bruising kiss to Ricky’s inner thigh before they separated, clothes hastily fixed. But as Ricky shifted, the fullness inside him served as a secret brand, Gyuvin’s eyes promising more conquests ahead.
Ricky’s breath comes out uneven, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides as the last of it settles into him, heavy and undeniable. He remembers every second of it. The heat does not fade, it only burns sharper now, sitting low in his chest, impossible to ignore, impossible to push away.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Gyuvin lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh, low and satisfied. “There it is” he murmurs.
Ricky lifts his gaze slowly, and their eyes meet. Just like that, everything from last night is right there between them again, unspoken but louder than anything else in the room.
“You’re insane” Ricky says under his breath.
Gyuvin tilts his head, stepping just a little closer, just enough to cross the line again. “And you didn’t seem to mind.”
Ricky’s jaw tightens. He should step back, put space between them, pretend none of this followed him into today, but he doesn’t.
The set moves around them, voices calling, people passing by, completely unaware of the shift in the air between them, something heavier now, something dangerous.
Gyuvin lets out a satisfied laugh, a grin settling on his lips like he already got what he wanted, and Ricky hates it. He hates the cocky look in his eyes, the way he stands there so sure of himself, like he already knows Ricky won’t walk away.
Ricky scoffs, turning slightly, trying to shake it off, trying to get a hold of himself again. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, but it lacks the bite he wants it to have.
Gyuvin hums, amused, stepping just close enough for Ricky to feel it without anyone else noticing. “And yet,” he says quietly, voice low with something sharp underneath, “you’re still here.”
Ricky’s grip tightens at his side, pulse quickening despite himself. “Don’t push it,” he warns, but it comes out rougher than intended.
Gyuvin leans in just a fraction, close enough that Ricky can feel his breath, that same knowing smile still there.
“Then I’d better fuck you again to shut you up.”