10-MINUTES (originally posted on AO3!)
She grabbed his performance jacket. “Ten minutes, Caleb. You’re on the transfer box to the stage in ten minutes,” she stated, her voice tight but low. “Now you’re in charge of this, Manager. Keep me silent, or we’re both exposed.”
characters: idol!caleb x mc!reader (BECAUSE OF THE NEW BANNER HEHE)
tags: smut, quickies, alternate universe, managermc!, idol!caleb, sex, oral sex, rough sex, penis in vagina sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, creampie, explicit sexual content, PWP porn without plot, idol/manager relationship, possessive behavior, possessive sex, backstage
note: 1k words. this is also originally posted on ao3 :00 I GOT ZAYNE INSTEAD OF CALEB </3
The heavy door slammed shut, the deadbolt thrown with a decisive thunk that barely cut through the distant roar of the stadium crowd. Caleb—sweaty, wired, and shimmering with the frantic residual energy of his final encore—leaned back against the steel, his heart hammering the rhythm of his last song.
His manager, MC, was already moving. She grabbed his performance jacket. “Ten minutes, Caleb. You’re on the transfer box to the stage in ten minutes,” she stated, her voice tight but low.
He caught her wrist, his grip immediate and desperate. “Relax, I did great, didn’t I? The new track went platinum tonight.”
“You were good,” she conceded, peeling the jacket off and tossing it aside. She faced him, her eyes sharp. “But… you missed the final mark on the pyro cue, and you’re still buzzing. You need to focus. Ten minutes is not a break.”
He pulled her tighter, muscles rigid beneath the thin, open stage shirt. “Ten minutes is enough to lose this, Manager. And I’m not losing it alone.” He lowered his voice to a dark, challenging command. “I need you to remind me who runs this show. Now.”
Caleb didn’t wait for her reply. He reached and simply ripped the shirt open, tearing the snaps and exposing his hard, sweaty chest. He shoved her back against the cool steel of the transfer box, pinning her with his weight.
A voice, magnified by a handheld radio outside, cut through: “Ten minutes to exit! Clear the hallway for the transfer!”
He reached for the belt of his performance trousers, sliding the zip down in a single, rough pull. He didn’t ask her for help, he used the motion of his hips to free himself, his cock springing immediately, demanding attention.
His voice was a low, guttural command, vibrating with adrenaline. “No time for foreplay. You’re going to hold that timing, Manager. And you’re going to use your mouth to keep me quiet.”
He didn't blindfold her, he needed her eyes open with this. He guided her head downward with a rough hand in her hair, leaving no choice but to submit.
She choked against his hard, throbbing, pre-cum leaking cock. His hips pressing into her throat, commanding absolute obedience. “Mhm… That’s right… You control the clock out there, but you control this right here. Now make me forget I have to leave.”
The sound of the door handle rattling outside made them both freeze. “Five minutes to launch! Caleb’s final look check—where is he?!” The stage director was screaming through the hallway.
Caleb slammed his body against the transfer box, pulling her up and spinning her around, driving her back-first against the cold metal. He ripped down her skirt, his hands finding the slick, insistent heat of her pussy.
He aligned his cock with a desperate precision, thrusting home in one sharp, powerful motion. “Now you’re in charge of this, Manager. Keep me silent, or we’re both exposed.”
It was immediate and desperate. His pace driving her back against the cold steel, his need overwhelming the noise outside.
She bit down her own lip, refusing to break their silence, her hands clawing at his back. She could only manage strained, strangled breaths, every movement a betrayal of her professional facade.
He leaned down, his mouth hot against her ear, his breath ragged. “Ngh… that’s my good girl. Take your Idol, and make sure he finishes on time…”
The sensation was terrifyingly immediate, the result of suppressed tension finally snapping.
He thrust once more, he drove into her and held, his body going rigid with the absolute effort of his climax. His hands left her hips only to claw at the cold steel of the transfer box beside her head. He arched his back, a raw, choked groan escaping his throat as the wave hit and his hot, heavy cum flooding inside her.
Just as he was about to cum, a voice, magnified by a handheld radio, shrieked right outside the door, followed by a frantic pounding.
“CALEB! ARE YOU IN THERE?! LAUNCH IN NINETY SECONDS!”
Caleb froze, body locked in a tremor of release. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips moving against her skin in a silent, desperate confession. He was powerless, consumed by his own desire and the terrifying sound of his career demanding his immediate presence.
He pressed his hips against her, his seed pouring into her in a heavy, consuming torrent. Each pulse was a betrayal of his professionalism, a desperate, final surge of intimacy. He held himself there, shaking, his entire weight crushing her against the box.
He pulled out instantly, the sound of their skin separating sharp in the small, silent room. He didn’t wait to breathe. He zipped his pants, the metal scraping harshly.
He smoothed his ripped shirt, his voice a sharp, businesslike whisper. “Go clean up. No one saw us.”
He pulled the deadbolt. The door was immediately yanked open by a frantic, sweating Stage Manager who didn’t even notice MC scrambling to push down her skirt and regain her composure.
“There you are! We’re live! Get in the box, Caleb! GO, GO, GO!
Caleb’s Idol mask was perfectly in place—cold, focused, and untouchable. He strode past his manager and the yelling crew. He calmly stepped into the open transfer box, sinking into the cramped darkness. The lid slammed shut. The weight of the secret he carried inside her.
MC stumbled back against the steel door, her legs shaking, her lungs burning from the air she hadn’t dared to breath. She lifted a trembling hand, touching the collar of her shirt. His seed was still warm and heavy inside her, a secret not even the entire stadium or global broadcast would ever know.
She was his manager. Her job was to ensure Caleb was perfect. But her reality was the slick, raw weight of him that still anchored her to the ground.
She looked down at her hands, noticing the dark, fresh crease marks left by the grip of his fingers on her wrists. With one final deep breath, MC stepped away from the door and followed the signal lights down the hall.
She had a show to run.