"You're just excited to kiss her on camera," Hikaru teased. And JieMi stiffened at his words. MinJae only laughed at his words, giggles that were light, bubbly and beautiful. Laughter that JieMi hated to the core.
"Oh yeah, and what about you and your implied sex scene?"
Hikaru blushed at that, turning so red that the team began to tease him, loud and boisterous. But JieMi couldn't hear their words, couldn't hear their cheeky banter, the sound of their voices had dulled into a low thrum that hummed in his ears. And he was underwater, submerged within the deep sea.
This was the story of seven kings.
Rulers of the darkness, emperors of iniquity, deities of the world. Each embodied one of the seven deadly sins. Hikaru was lust, Ezra was wrath, Sieon was sloth, Casper was pride, MinJae was gluttony, Oliver was greed and JieMi…JieMi was envy. And the six men would fall for the angel that had stupidly stepped into their kingdom.
All except JieMi.
He was the only king that would writhe with jealousy as he watched his best friends lose themselves to love, the king that would eventually take a knife and do what had to be done to maintain peace. The king that would toy with poisons and assassins, beasts and mercenaries. The king that would do things that shouldn't be done. The king that would rob and steal the most precious of treasures.
The villain.
Of course, nothing would be literal. Everything was set to be filmed with as much ambiguity as possible for an air of mystery, but still, the storyline hit a little too close to home and JieMi couldn't help feeling anxious. He couldn't help feeling a little sick.
"Boys, let's get this over with, please," the director repeated, and they hustled, moving back to their spots. The spotlight flickered, swathing them in a shower of light and gold, flickers of colour in an environment that should have inspired him to focus, but didn't.
And JieMi didn't want to move on.
But they managed to film a clean cut with perfect synchronicity and JieMi found himself growing paler by the minute. They had a short break, a quick move from one side of the huge studio to the other, and he trailed behind the team surrounded by a throng of staff working on his image. But he was too far gone in his head to care.
He only noticed her, when the noise around him simmered down to a hushed whisper tinged with awe.
But by then it was already too damn late.
His breath caught in his throat, siphoned out by a harsh virtual punch to his gut that should have elicited a strangled groan from his lips. But even that sound was drowned out by the pause of the noise in his head. The silence that washed over the buzz that hummed in his brain was comforting, peaceful. All-consuming.
She was exquisite.
They'd given her blue hair, a wig the colour of soft creamy blue, so gentle that the shade was a cool white under the spotlight. It stood out against the soft sweet peach of her skin, cascading down her bare, naked back to curl over a set of fake wings, angel wings, wings that hung down her frame to kiss at the floor, feathers brushing over the floor and against her bare feet.
His heart skipped a beat.
And his eyes drifted, flickering over the long satin slip that spilled down her skin, curling over generous breasts and curved hips in splashes of silver. His gaze climbed, climbed up to chaste hints of her breasts, not enough to be banned on television but enough to remind him just what lay beneath that silky fabric. Of the heaven that he'd tasted, of the peach of her tight nipples and the dust of red when she was embarrassed, of the little white marks over her thighs and the mole on her inner thigh.
His cock hardened in the tight leather of his pants, pushing painfully against the fly, eager for a taste.
And then his eyes were on her face, on the natural makeup that seemed to bring out the red of her lips and the amber in her eyes, so light that they were almost gold. It brought out the curve of her eyelids, the symmetry of her features, and the length of her lashes. It was completed by the ringlet on her head, a simple silver that made his eyes dart over the glitter of crystal beads on her ears, sharp and as pixie-like as they were.
And then she smiled, lips quirking, eyes glittering.
And he was utterly floored.
JieMi's mouth went dry and he stumbled backwards, hands gripping whatever he could hold. His heart was racing in his chest, so fast that he felt almost dizzy and the redness in his cheeks had spread to cover his skin, burning hot in the cold of the studio.
He knew makeup and clothes could do wonders to a person's looks, but he didn't think that she would look this good. And whatever mental preparation he had was completely shattered into pieces, his fleshy vulnerable heart, exposed to her heavenly beauty.
And he couldn't stop staring.
She smiled wider, lips spreading in embarrassment at the silence in the small studio, adorable as always. And then lightly punched the shoulder of MinJae, who seemed just as surprised as he was. They all were, the six other men that stood right in front of her, stoic and unmoving. JieMi didn't need to see their faces to know what they were feeling.
Then they were moving, caging her in a tight circle that shielded her from his vision. And JieMi's heart pricked and soured as he craned his neck eager for a better look. He caught sight of her bright smile, caught sight of reddened cheeks as Ezra leaned in to whisper words that no doubt dripped with sexual want into her ear. She was bashful when Oliver kissed her cheek and declared loudly that she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
Words that reflected those in JieMi's heart.
And JieMi's resolve faltered, heart thundering in his chest.
When she finally stepped away from the circle, there was a veil over her head, placed by the staff to conceal her identity. A mesh of crystals that illuminated her skin with hundreds and thousands of iridescent crystal shards. It turned her into something ethereal, something untouchable, something god-like, something their fans wouldn't see as human. Something otherworldly.
And God, the veil was a final blow to his pathetic heart, so similar to a wedding veil that tears formed in his eyes, wet and murky. He had to press himself against the wall, hiding further into the shadows to not let the others see the glint of wetness on his cheeks.
And he didn't know why he was crying, or why his heart hurt at the sight of her but it did. It did at the image of her with the six other men in their suits. The image of their smiling faces as they watched her with looks that reminded him of his father to his mother.
It did.
He stood there in his little corner watching each filmed scene with rising bitterness that churned in his belly. He watched as MinJae fed her grapes in a field of flowers, their hands clasped, and his smile so bright that he practically radiated love from every fibre in his body. He watched as Sieon painted her image on a pre-prepped canvas, his eyes sharp and warm with sickening sweet tenderness as she lay on a couch, a vision of beauty.
His heart was burning.
He watched as she stopped Ezra mid-rage, watched as he curled into her embrace with a head on her shoulder. He watched as Oliver, skilfully guided her across the dance floor in a majestic ballroom, twirling her around and around until he was breathless and giddy. He watched as Casper blew a breath of smoke from a fake cigar which she stole from his fingers, and he returned with a harsh kiss to her lips, ending with a glide of fingers to her soft throat.
His heart was melting.