There are many things that Jongsuk lives for – the sea of camera flashes as he steps out on the runway, a compliment for a shoot well done, Woobin’s strong arm curling around his waist and pulling him closer…

But none of these (alone) could top the absolute thrill that causes tiny shivers to race through his body – senses on full alert, breath coming in short pants – as he pulls Woobin into an empty dressing room from right beneath the noses of the coordis.

Woobin’s eyes are wide in shock, mouth open in a small ‘o’ –

Jongsuk doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

(The voices of the coordis have long disappeared down the corridor but Jongsuk knows they’ll be back soon.)

He hooks a finger into the chain loops connecting Woobin’s black silk tie to his collar and tugs him downwards (Jongsuk closes the rest of the distance himself). Their lips crash together hungrily, fingers rake through product-filled hair, hips grinding earnestly as their s strain against their Armani pants.

Woobin finally pushes Jongsuk away from him and they stare at each other, lips red and cheeks flushed. “We only have ten minutes before we have to report backstage for touch-up.”

“No, Woo,” Jongsuk grins, eyes dancing (was that a gleam of mischief that Woobin saw). “We only have ten minutes to settle this.”

He rubs against Woobin’s with one hand while the other grabs the taller model’s hand and cups it around the bulge in Jongsuk’s own pants. Jongsuk s into his hand with a moan and Woobin knows he has lost whatever game it was that Jongsuk initiated.

Woobin glares.

Jongsuk shrugs.

It doesn’t take long for designer pants to come off, flying across the room as far as possible because it probably isn’t a good idea to into clothes that cost more than half of what they were being paid for the job.

Woobin presses Jongsuk to the wall, breath tickling against his ear as they start to jerk each other off. “You do know that the door is still unlocked right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Of course you do.”

Jongsuk’s grin mirrors that of Woobin’s own – a troublemaker’s grin.

Jongsuk smacks Woobin on the shoulder bringing him back to reality. “Hurry. We don't have much time left.”

They finish each other off quickly and purposefully, into each other’s hands – Jongsuk burying his head in Woobin’s shoulder to stifle his moan. The models take a moment to catch their breaths.

Jongsuk catches sight of their reflections in the mirror and laughs, pushing Woobin away clumsily as he stumbles over to where their clothes are. Woobin casts him a strange look until he looks into the mirror and he bursts out laughing as well.

They were a royal mess – hair sticking out at weird angles, wrinkled clothes, smudged eyeliner and wet boxers.

“Well, we could always say it’s a variation of the concept,” Jongsuk offers as he slips back into his pants, scooping up the rest of the clothes into his arms.

Woobin rolls his eyes. “Sure, if you wanna go through the next half of the show in clothes two sizes too small for you.”

“I think I’ll be fine, Woobin,” he smiles widely. “See you backstage.”

Before Woobin could reply, Jongsuk ducks out the door and closes it behind him. He shrugs and walks over to pick up his pants lying in the –

Woobin stares at the empty floor for a full three seconds and then it hits him.

“Jongsuk, you bastard.”

Woobin reaches into his suit pocket for his phone but pulls out a crumpled game card instead. He squints at the logo.

“Don't tell me…”

It belonged to the couple bonding game that a fan had given them a few months back in celebration of the Jongbin couple.

He unfolds it and snorts in amazement.

Surprise your partner at work.

“Lee Jongsuk, you bastard.”

Woobin nodded to himself, an evil smile of anticipation spreading across his face.

This wasn’t just a challenge anymore.

“This is war.”