Part: 5 (Chaptered)
Previous Sections: One, Two, Three, Four
Pairing: Yunho and Jaejoong
Rating: R/NC-17ish (Unknown overall)
Genre: Angst, Romance
Written for swallowtt
Separation comes at a terrible price. Reconciliation demands an even greater coin but can they...are they willing to pay it?
“I thought we agreed we…you wouldn’t come here again,” Se7en murmured while pouring Changmin a thick measure of golden whiskey. “Well, you agreed. You decided.”
The whiskey’s raspy mellow scent reminded Min of the tang on Se7en’s skin after they’d had sex, a heady whisper of erotic wrong he’d needed to walk away from before it consumed him. Standing in the middle of Se7en’s apartment, Changmin couldn’t keep out the memories of what they’d done together. Even the most hidden of corners held whispering secrets, musky and sweat-drenched moments where the air held nothing but their cries and the scent of their sex.
He took the glass from Se7en and their fingers touched, a brief shimmer of skin on skin.
His body clenched, reliving its own memories. The skin on his stomach murmured its longing for the man’s full lips and his nipples tingled, echoes of Se7en’s fingers and palms rubbing over their sensitive numbs. The insides of his thighs ached to the sharp bite of the man’s teeth while his hips recalled the clench of the singer’s hands as Se7en broke through the tight resistance of his centre to plunge deep inside of Min’s velvety entrance.
No, Min felt his bitterness rise, his body remembered all too well the temptation of the man in front of him.
Changmin cradled the glass and walked into the living room, sipping at the fiery alcohol cautiously. He never had a head for whiskey but it was Se7en’s preferred drink. Turning it down seemed childish and asking for something else was rude, perhaps even ruder than pounding on the man’s front door at midnight begging to be let in.
“What happened to the couch?” Min stood at the entrance to the living space and stared at the room.
Everything was…different. The deep blood red carpet and black leather sofa they’d wrestled on had been replaced with a smoke-honey wood floor with a dark brown area rug spread out under a retro-patterned gold sectional. The walls, once a bright white, were now a warm cream with massive black and white photos in frameless glass panes lining the walls.
“I couldn’t live with you…the memories of you in everything I touched.” Se7en shrugged and sat down on the short end of the sectional.
“You took everything…out. I loved that couch,” Min protested weakly. “You could have… asked me if I wanted it. I would have taken it.”
“You’d taken everything worth having out of this place already,” Se7en murmured, sipping his whiskey.
“I took nothing from here.”
“You took my love for you.” The ice cubes in Se7en’s drink clinked against the glass. “And then you threw it all away. Now you’re complaining about a couch?”
The pain in Se7en’s voice was as harsh as the whiskey burning Min’s throat. He turned and set the glass down, stepping away from the amber flecks of light dancing over the new floor. Se7en eyed the younger man as he crossed the room, his shoulders stiffening more with each long stride his former lover took. By the time Changmin reached his side, Se7en’s body was a thrumming bundle of nerves.
Looking up at the young man, Se7en whispered, “What do you want, Minku-ah? What more can you take from me? How much more do I have to bleed before you’ve finally had your fill?”
The air crackled between them, filled with razor-laden words and bitter feelings. Se7en’s hooded gaze broke something open in Min’s chest and the pain of Yunho’s betrayal struck anew, digging deep into his heart with a foul black intent. Something must have shown on Min’s face because suddenly Se7en’s hands were on his hips, pulling him forward and the world turned right-side up again.
Se7en’s mouth found his, savaging the pain between them. Min reached for the man’s shoulders, sliding his hands over Se7en’s arms and then around his neck. Straddling the older man’s legs, Min slid forward, fitting his crotch into the curve of his former lover’s torso and hips.
It was as if they’d never been apart.
The room faded into a wash of cream and black, becoming simply nothing more than a backdrop for their passion.
A rush of cold air hit Changmin’s back and he shivered, suddenly realized his shirt was lying on the couch next to them. Se7en’s too warm lips teased his left nipple and the chill whispered away. His stomach muscles tightened when Se7en’s tongue lapped at the nub and he couldn’t keep his dark moans from slithering free from his open mouth. Everything the man did felt good…too good… and Min was reminded of the why he’d left Se7en; the fire between them burned too hot.
He’d seen what a torrid love did to Yunho and Jaejoong. He’d only been protecting himself when he closed the door behind him and walked away from the man stroking him to fulfillment underneath him. Even now, amid the confusion in his heart and mind, his body ached and burned for the man’s touch. The skim of Se7en’s hands on his back made him mewl and he arched into his former lover’s wide palms, reveling in the feel of Se7en’s long, sensitive fingers as they found the spots that made Min purr.
“Let me take this pain away from you,” Se7en murmured into Min’s ear. The words were a searing promise of a sleepless night and boneless fatigue in the morning and for a long moment, Min contemplated the wisdom of letting Se7en have his way with him.
When he felt Se7en’s fingers ghost over the rise of his buttocks, Min fell forward and sighed, holding onto the man for all he had in him.
He needed this. He needed the connection between them. When he walled up his heart, he’d left a part of himself behind with Se7en. Riding through the waves of desire their storm tossed up, Min felt himself being carried further and higher than he’d ever imagined he could go.
“Please,” Min whispered into Se7en’s open mouth. “I need to…”
The tears hit him hard and fast, a rush of black sorrow amid the red of their sensual tension. His body shook with it, an unexpected scream of emotions Min could not stave off. His rage triumphed and Min felt himself unravel, spinning out into loose threads that moved too fast for him to grab and hold onto.
“Let it go, Minku,” Se7en urged him. The man’s hands skimmed over the taut skin over Min’s ribs and the gentleness in Se7en’s touch broke him apart.
The inferno boiling inside of him… long simmering since the three first walked away… rose to the surface and spilled over onto both men.
“Fucker! God, I fucking hate him.” Min’s fists slammed into Se7en’s shoulders, sending shockwaves through the older man’s body. “Look, what he did to me! Look what he did to… us!”
His anger rode him, moving his hands and arms into a flailing spin of helplessness and pain. Changmin couldn’t feel anything but the soft give of something beneath his fists and the occasional stroke of a hand down the centre of his back. A soft murmuring flow of words were meaningless noises in his ear, a patter of rain made from sound.
When the last of his tears were catching on the exhausted lump of pain in his chest, Min fell forward, collapsing into the firm arms wrapping around him. His wrists ached and a trail of salt ran from his nose. Wiping at the mess of his face with the cotton cloth in his fingers, Min froze, suddenly realizing the fabric he held in his hands smelled of Se7en and a taint of blood.
“I hurt you.” Min gritted his teeth, horrified at the smear of red on Se7en’s face. At some point, he must have struck the other man with his fists, pushing his lower lip into his teeth. “I’m… sorry.”
“My own pain I can handle,” Se7en gave Min a crooked, sexy smile. “Your pain, Minku, that is what makes me bleed inside.”
Min ran his thumb over the dots of blood on Se7en’s chin. Se7en leaned forward, dabbing his tongue over the drops and closed his mouth over the younger man’s thumb. Suckling the tip clean, Se7en slid further down Min’s finger until his teeth grazed the plump rise of Changmin’s palm.
He wanted to pull free of Se7en’s mouth.
But even more, Changmin wanted to dive straight in and let Se7en consume him.
“I don’t want to go back to that…” Min whispered, drew his hand back and stared at the beauty of the man under him. “I don’t want to go back and face Yunho. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
“Then stay here, baby.” Se7en pulled Min’s hand back and kissed the curve of the man’s palm. “Stay here…and let me love you.”
They made it as far as a creaky walled bathhouse. The spa attendant barely glanced up at Jaejoong when the man tossed a handful of won on the counter. Grabbing a key to one of the small private cells, Jae stalked off through the maze of corridors, his back a tight line of muscle for Yunho to follow through the encroaching darkness.
After a few turns, the hallways were nearly pitch black after coming in from off the brightly lit street and it took Yunho a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. When the dim glow coming from the small overhead lights finally were enough for him to see, he’d begun to wish he’d remained blind.
There were men in nearly every alcove and niche, their writhing bodies partially hidden by long split curtains. The soft burbling of water barely covered the sounds of sex, masculine voices urging another to go faster, harder and in one case, begging for another slap to erase the pleasure of their joining.
Listening to the men buried in their sins, hidden and self-loathing, turned Yunho’s stomach.
Mostly, the murmurs sounded like his own soul whispering its doubts at his love for Jaejoong and he hated hearing himself coming from the mouths of other men.
A brighter gleam of light flared at the end of the hall and for a brief moment, Jaejoong became a silhouette of black framed in a off-kilter threshold then he disappeared into the room, leaving the door partially open for Yunho to go through. Ducking his head to avoid the dripping water pipe at the top of the frame, Yunho stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
The other man was struggling to remove his should when Yunho came in. His ribs were stark lines under his too-pale skin and Yunho could see every bump of his spine move as he wrestled with the oversized-T. The dark inked lines on Jae’s back nearly swallowed up the light, turning a milky pitch as he turned his head to glance at Yunho’s entrance.
Jae’s look was colder than the tiled room, frosting over any sexual heat lingering there. Every hint of the playful drunk Jae’d once been was gone, replaced by a draconian sneer and a frigid beauty Yunho still wanted despite the brittle, sharp edges he knew would make him bleed if he touched them.
Yunho’s gaze swept the room, taking in the mattress set on palettes on the floor. Barely wide enough for two men to lie on, its bare fabric top was stained from years of use and Yunho wrinkled his nose at the ripe smell wafting up from it. A drain in the middle of the tile floor was damp, a promise the mattress would be moist from water as well. The wooden bench didn’t hold much promise either. Its rough surface was cracked in places and darkened at the lip. A stack of worn folded towels sat on one end, their edges frayed from washing.
“What is this place?” Yunho asked quietly.
“It’s a place where men fuck,” Jae snapped back. He’d finally wrested the shirt from his torso and flung it onto the mattress. Stalking over to Yunho, he wrapped his fingers into the man’s hair and yanked hard, pulling Yunho close. “That’s what you want right? So here it is. Do what you want and then leave me the fuck alone.”
Yunho stared into the cinnamon brown eyes that haunted his dreams. Even filled with a furious rage, pain lingered at their edges, razor sharp and bleeding out whispers of agony. He’d held the fragile man standing in front of him, rocking Jae when the night’s terrors finally burst through the walls he’d bricked them up behind. The mortar he’d used was flawed, a crumbling stonework patched together with false bravado and fractured self-esteem.
From the looks of things, Jaejoong’s wall-building skills hadn’t got much better. Especially when his eyes flickered with tears when Yunho’s fingers ghosted over his cheek.
“Why won’t you just…?” Jaejoong’s whisper was a harsh whipcord slash of sound. “Just do it. Just fucking make it hurt and go.”
“Because I don’t want to walk away from you again, Joongie-ah,” Yunho murmured. The man’s skin was soft beneath his palm and Yunho wondered how he could have forgotten the silken smoothness of Jae’s beauty.
He’d have expected something…more… on Jae’s face, some sign of ravaging from the time they’d spent apart but the porcelain perfection of Jae’s features remained the same. There were flaws, visible even from a few feet but they only served to make the man more… human. If the tiny scar under Jaejoong’s eye or the spray of beauty marks on his cheek weren’t there, Yunho would think the man he held in his hand was a dream, one conjured up by the wretched pain echoing in his heart.
“I was wrong to push you away,” Yunho whispered as he kissed the corner of Jae’s mouth. The man moaned in response, his body instinctively arching towards Yunho’s.
Jaejoong’s anger broke under the rushing tide of his sorrow and he crumpled, Yunho catching him up in his strong arms.
They still fit, Yunho thought. Despite the months apart, their bodies knew where to go…how to move. His hands moved from Jae’s face to his shoulders, clenching at the bird-light bones beneath the man’s skin. Shivering, Jae closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of Yunho’s neck, his skin pricking with goosebumps from the cold leeching up from the tiles.
Closing his arms around his lover’s lithe body, Yunho held Jae in, rubbing his cheek against the man’s soft hair when Jae’s lips grazed the skin on his throat. A deep sigh jerked the singer’s shoulder blades and not for the first time in their lives, Yunho stroked at the space between them, his fingers tracing down Jaejoong’s spine.
“I miss holding you, Joongie-ah,” Yunho murmured softly. “I miss loving you. And I won’t fuck you tonight, Jaejoong. I won’t do that to you. Not when I want to make love to you instead. And if you want me just once, that’s fine. Then I’ll walk away from you because you ask me to but please, don’t ask me to do anything but love you. Because I can’t. I won’t. You deserve that. You deserve nothing less.”