Rating: Not Lemon
No, it's not about the tattoo :) that'll come later.
Plastic daisies whirled on long wands, pinwheels spinning frantically as a flock of giggling little girls dashed past Junsu’s legs, nearly knocking the singer down. A little hand grabbed at the loose fabric of his shirt, ducking behind Su’s lanky legs to hide from her friends, a peal of laughter ripening the smile on her delicate face. Junsu smiled down at the child, standing still while she danced around him, a frothy ribbon winding about a breeze. The flight of children dissipated as quickly as it arose, tiny butterflies carrying their twirling gardens with them.
Yoochun gamboled up to his friend’s side, offering a paper cup of hot cocoa. The evening turned cold, just the hint of sunlight on the horizon, whispering a farewell to the vibrant orchid pinks it brushed over the sky’s temple. The festival raged on around them, a sea of noise and colours bright against the night backdrop of Seoul’s skyline. Pursing his lips, Micky suckled off the top layer of whipped cream floating on the hot liquid, smearing a dollop of white on his nose.
“Hold still.” Junsu laughed, placing the palm of his hand on Yoochun’s stomach. The heat of the baritone’s body burned through Su’s flesh, warming him to the cold depths of his belly. Tilting his head up, the singer used his thumb to rub of the cream on Yoochun’s nose, licking the sweet off of his finger before sipping his cocoa.
Yoochun ducked his head to hide the rise of a blush creeping over his cheeks, watching Junsu continue walking through the crowd. He strained his tongue to wet the spot Junsu’s thumb touched, catching a taste of the other singer. The air was sweet with the scent of cotton candy and the bite of icy snow, the wind carrying winter’s perfume through the huddled masses of hot bodies swarming through the park. They’d lost Changmin, Yunho and Jaejoong at the candy making stall, the blown sugar artisans creating sculptures of mythical animals around elaborately carved chopsticks. Yunho and Changmin would not resist taking a single lick or two at the candy but Jaejoong’s would remain pristine, his dislike of sweets overridden by the snipped and manipulated sugar strands.
“Do you think we should win our son a brother or sister?” Yoochun froze when he heard Junsu’s question, nearly tumbling the cocoa from his hands. Smirking, the singer pointed to the stall festooned with bags of stuffed animals, its square platform ringed with people trying to toss coins into stacked dishes. “I don’t think we could find one that can match our bunny.”
“I don’t even know how that rabbit got into the pile. It looked like someone sewed it after a long night of drinking and karaoke.” Yoochun laughed at Junsu’s pout. “There’s nothing wrong with our son. I love him no matter what he looks like or how he turns out.”
“What about who he loves?” Junsu slyly looked at Micky through slanted, upturned eyes, watching the baritone’s face carefully.
“He’s purple.” Yoochun shrugged, scratching at his head while juggling the cup. The cold air made his scalp itch under the knitted cap he’d stolen from Jaejoong’s jacket, arguing with the lead singer that Jae didn’t need the cap as much as Yoochun did…having both a hoodie and Yunho to keep him warm. “I don’t think he’s going to have much choice in who loves him. Not many people would be attracted to him.”
“I think he’s beautiful.” Junsu wrinkled his nose, giving Yoochun his cup to hold. “Chunnie-ah, stop. You’re a mess.”
“What?” Yoochun stood perfectly still, grasping both cups and trying not to notice the stares he was getting from a gaggle of women next to them. “My head itches from the cold.”
Junsu lifted the beanie, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. Rubbing his hands together until they were nearly hot from friction, Junsu scratched at his friend’s head, running dull fingertips over Yoochun’s scalp. Micky half-closed his eyes with pleasure, ducking his head down so Junsu could reach around to the back.
“It’s too cold.” Micky complained, tilting his head to the side, a low moan seeping from his parted mouth. The unusual chill in the air ate a dryness over his skin.
“We should head home.” Junsu rubbed one last time with the pads of his fingers, smiling at Yoochun’s disappointed groan when he pulled free of the other’s tangle of hair. A quick phone call to Yunho verified the youngest was still with the couple, Jaejoong and Changmin jubilantly shouting at a game they were playing. The eldest of their members yelled of Min’s cheating, so loud Junsu pulled the phone away from his ear. “Okay, we’ll meet you at home.”
With a full belly, Yoochun stretched out on his bed, flat on his stomach. A soft slush fell from the sky, plastering icy flakes over the edges of the window, washing away the view of the city sky. Jaejoong and Yunho passed by his bedroom, the leader closing their door without taking his eyes off of Jae stripping his shirt from his slender torso. Their dinner had been a loud affair, the food a spicy repast picked up on the way home by the three other members. He’d watched with a quiet envy at Jaejoong’s easy theft of Yunho’s cucumber kim chee, a stab of chopsticks floating into the flat ceramic dish at the edge of their leader’s plate. A mushroom floated its way from Yunho’s plate to Jaejoong’s, exchanged for slices of eggplant and bok choy.
Junsu watched Yoochun’s face with interest, half listening to Changmin’s prattle about the day’s events and the success he’d had at winning a stack of foreign music CDs . The series of emotions playing over the sensitive singer’s features were curious, more so when Jaejoong sipped from Yunho’s spoon and Yoochun’s eyes trailed over to Junsu. The wide shock in Yoochun’s eyes amused Junsu, nearly as much as the shy smile that crept over Yoochun’s wide mouth. Storing the lush warmth of the baritone’s face into his memories, Junsu continued to eat, waiting for the right moment to offer the other man a slice of bulgogi with his chopsticks.
A clove of garlic accompanied the meat, the dab of sweet caramelized heat smoothly sliding over Yoochun’s flattened tongue. With his lips closing over the wooden utensils, Micky licked at the chopsticks, tasting Junsu’s mouth in the moistness left along the tips.
“I’m sorry.” Junsu bent over, parting Yoochun’s hair with his breath and whispered under the table chatter. “I should have turned them around to feed you. I hope you don’t mind the taste of me on your food.”
“No, it’s… fine.” Yoochun caught at the heat in his breath, chewing slowly to prolong the flavours filling his mouth. “We share a lot as it is…”
“True.” Junsu nodded with a seemingly innocent wide eyed look then turned back to listen to Changmin, leaving Yoochun to his thoughts.
Micky’s mind was troubled and churning, reliving the moment of Junsu’s chopsticks sliding over his lips. He’d chased away wondering if the sweetness of the meat was a result of ginger or the kiss of Junsu’s mouth on the wood but the idea kept creeping back into his imagination, simmering just below his other thoughts. Concentrating on a song they were practicing, Yoochun worked hard to keep his brain occupied with the rumbling notes of his part, humming under his breath.
The overlaying bridge joined his humming, Junsu’s higher pitched voice comfortable against his lower range. Aware that he’d been too lost in his thoughts to notice Junsu coming into the room and closing the door, Micky smiled a hello at his roommate and stopped humming, his body reacting strongly under the protection of his loose sweats. Turning over onto his side, Yoochun made room for the other man to sit down, the singer’s slighter weight pressing into the mattress beside him.
“You have no idea how hard it is to reach that sweep.” Junsu moved his ankles up onto the bed, curving his body into Micky’s side. Folding his arm up under his head, the singer turned his cheek to the pillow, staring up at Yoochun. “I keep reaching and missing it. I slide all over the place until I get it. I’ve got to stop doing that.”
“You’ll get it.” Yoochun reassured the smaller singer, nestling down into the blankets. “You always do.”
“Do you feel like you have to be better than Yunho?” Junsu curved his legs upward. Yoochun parted his knees, enveloping Junsu’s limbs with his own. The tenor slid in closer, tucking his elbows up over Micky’s ribs. Yoochun’s hand hovered until he finally settled on placing his palm on the other’s waist,
“No. Why?” Yoochun’s belly began burning, hooking a desire into his guts.
“I feel like I have to always be better than Jaejoong. Which is silly because we never sing the same…” Junsu sighed into the warmth of the other’s body, his breath a spot of kisses along the hollow of Yoochun’s throat. “I’m probably just wanting… more.”
“More of what?” Yoochun wanted to touch the other man’s face, to feel the dip along his upper lip, wondering if his mouth would taste of the hint of ginger Micky imagined it would.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I see him … in places that I want to be.” Junsu’s liquid gaze trailed over Yoochun’s torso, drinking in the width of the baritone’s shoulders. “And we share everything but there are things that he… does that I want to do. If I could just… try harder… reach harder… I might be able to be there.”
“He’s our lead singer.” Yoochun shrugged, his fingers stroking along the ridge of Junsu’s hipbone. “And pretty. But you don’t have to be jealous of him. You have a lot of fans. Not as much as me, of course.”
Junsu grinned at Micky’s taunt, slapping at the young man’s chest with his open palm. His fingers strayed for a moment longer, running along the hard ridge pebbling under the cotton shirt. He teased the nipple with his nail for just enough time it took for Micky to inhale a sharp breath, dropping his hand between their bodies. Sighing, the singer moved in closer, pushing out the air between them.
“I just want to sometimes be… where he is.” Junsu said, tracing a pattern of words on the bed sheets. A loud thump sounded from across the hall, sharp enough to be heard between two closed doors and a span of walls. “Do you ever wonder what they do in there?”
“Yes.” Yoochun admitted, closing his eyes against the images flooding his mind. His hands trembled against Junsu’s soft skin, his fingers having worked up the other’s shirt until the pale landscape was beneath his touch. “But then I have to go brush my teeth or wash my mind out.”
“Really?” Junsu worried at his mouth with his teeth, the butterfly curl at the edges of his lips dipping wings into his cheeks. A light shone briefly across the window, fracturing into dapples of white shards across their nearly joined together bodies. “I can imagine what they’re doing and it makes me warm inside… or too hot and I need a cold shower.”
“Do they bother you?” Yoochun asked. He knew Junsu was experimental in his love, often slanting glances at the sight of a handsome man walking in the park across their apartment or the fullness of a woman’s hips as she climbed the stairs. “I didn’t think you’d mind their loving one another.”
“No, I don’t mind them at all. It’s nice to see them together…especially after all the raging stew they cooked over these past few months.” Rubbing the top of his foot across Yoochun’s shin, Junsu’s brow furrowed, his mind wandering. “I just ache sometimes, feeling their love in my chest. It hurts to see because you can almost taste it. It’s like water falling behind a wall of glass when your throat is parched and dry. I can’t touch it but I can smell the moisture, see it splash and if I lick the glass, I can feel its coolness on my tongue, but still, I can’t have a mouthful.”
“I feel that way sometimes.” Yoochun admitted softly. Junsu looked up from his study of the sheets, his eyes a gleaming brandy. “Joongie-ah talks about how much he hates to love Yunho because it tears him apart and folds him into Yunnie until he can’t tell where he begins and the other ends. But then he also says he can’t live without Yunho… that every time he takes in a breath, he wonders why Yunnie’s scent isn’t in it. I don’t know if I can love like that.”
“They fight with themselves as much as each other.” Junsu commented. Reaching behind him, the tenor switched the table lamp to low, dousing most of the light from the room. “I think that’s just how their love is. I don’t think you’d love like that…or need that kind of love.”
“What kind of love do you want?” Yoochun huddled in the darkness, feeling the slide of Junsu’s body against his. The width of the bed was enough for both of them to lie down comfortably, providing one of them was on their side. Pressed against the wall, Yoochun knew Junsu had more than enough room behind him to move back but the closeness to the other’s body raked Micky’s throat tight. His hands roamed slowly over the stretch of Junsu’s ribs, a languid track of strokes and flats marked with each ridge of bone Micky found under his fingers.
“I think I’d want someone who I could laugh with. Someone who forgives easily and cries even easier.” Junsu said, resting his chin against one palm, bringing his face in closer to Micky’s. “Someone who understands what my life is like and wants me to succeed. Someone who I can help reach their dreams or even show them support when they think they can’t do something.”
“You do that for me.” Yoochun admitted, a murmur of desire thickening his words. “Every time I think that I can’t go on one more day living like we do, you’re there to make me laugh. It makes my heart lighter. You’re good at that, Junnie, showing someone you like them. You’re a good friend.”
“I would want to be a good friend to my lover.” Junsu said. The sky outside into churned silver smoke as more snow fell beyond the window. “I’d want him…or her… to feel like he could come to me and I would know when to hold him or when he needed to hear someone say that he was loved. It’s what I would want.”
“You deserve that.” Micky nodded, resting his forehead against Junsu’s temple. “I love that you’re here for me. I didn’t realize how much I would miss you when Yunho drove Jaejoong out of their room.”
“I thought you liked having Jaejoong in here with you.” The tenor mockingly gasped at his friend, wincing when Yoochun tweaked the thin skin of his navel. “Hey, he’s your best friend.”
“He’s a brother.” Yoochun replied. “But he needed Yunnie to come to his senses and to go back into his own room. I love Jaejoong but he needs his boyfriend, even though he might chew on Yunho’s nerves. He’s easy to share a room with but he’s not you. I could feel the difference every time I would sleep. I’d wake up every night wondering when you were coming to bed and why did Jae pass out in your bed, then I’d remember and I would be sad for a bit.”
“It got better, didn’t it?” The tenor tugged at Yoochun’s nose with his teeth, just a little nip before he pulled away, leaving a mint kiss on the underside of Micky’s upper lip. “I’m back and the two of them are in there doing God knows what, making lots of strange noises and giggling.”
“It did get better.” Yoochun agreed, reaching over Junsu’s shoulder to turn the table lamp off. “The light is hurting my eyes.”
“It’s okay. I have your face memorized.” The tenor said, tucking his hips into the dip of Micky’s thighs. “Can I sleep here tonight? You already have the bed warm and I don’t look forward to my cold sheets.”
“No, it’ll be nice.” Yoochun lay his head beside Junsu’s, tucking the pillow under his chin. “I can hear you breathing more clearly if you’re close by.”
“We should do what they did and move our beds together. We would have more room and we could keep the blankets warm. I like the cold air to sleep in but I love having my blankets over me.” Junsu drifted a bit, feeling sleep tug at his consciousness. “I feel better hearing you breathe too, Chunnie-ah. It makes me fall asleep better than a rainstorm.”
“I love you as much as I love Jaejoong, you know.” Yoochun whispered, the top of Junsu’s head against his collarbone.
Micky’s words were nearly lost in the other’s hair, soft and velvet from his recent shower. His body ached from the morning’s dance practice and then the long walk around the festival grounds, his muscles eased into slothfulness by a hot shower and his full belly. The feel of Junsu around his legs and against his chest crept into the corners of his mind, inflaming his thoughts despite his tired mind and body. Content, Yoochun allowed the darkness to fold over him, wrapping his arms over Junsu’s waist and loosely holding the other man before falling off into a quiet, happy slumber.
“I know, Chunnie-ah.” Junsu sighed, letting sleep take him away. “I think you just need to realize that I’m not your brother but I’m more than willing to let you love me…especially if you let me love you in return.”