Pairing: Lee Jun Ki and Kim Jaejoong
Series: LeeKim Kisses
bel_chan.... ::::shoves cookies into the bel_chan::::
Jun Ki thought fondly of the first time someone pointed out the erotic sylph that haunted his dreams, an undulating slide of sex wrapped inside of lean, long bones and translucent skin. The conversation stilled around the table, the music from club’s lower floor muted beneath long panels of rippled glass hanging above the dancers, strung from the high ceilings by thick black wires nearly invisible to the naked eye.
The man couldn’t remember who commented on the young man, a singer from a male group, his face hidden by a mane of fringed black hair. A skipping back beat thundered through the crowd, a slippery vocal winding around the sparse music, alternating between a male low rap and a woman’s angelic singing. Jun Ki asked after the track, the hook firm and pleasing. One of the sycophants that hovered at the edge of his friends’ group hustled away from the table, looking for the DJ amid the people clustered around the sound board.
Others were dressed more provocatively, drawing eyes to them with sheer shirts and clinging leather. The singer looked as if he walked in off the street, low-slung jeans riding on his hip bones, the waistband dipping down with the rolling gyrations of his body. Oblivious to the other people clustered in tight around him, the singer danced, throwing himself into primal sensual movements.
Jaejoong looked up, feeling something in the tangled hot air, his eyes opening under the flash of lights stroking his body. He met Jun Ki’s steady gaze with a challenging stare, breaking free of the contact with a detached insouciance the actor could only envy. Turning his back on Jun Ki, Jaejoong continued dancing, head back and arms spread wide.
“You two look alike.’ Jun Ki wasn’t sure which one of the others said it but the comparison was valid.
Their facial structures were similar, cast from a heavenly sculptor with an eye for beauty. The lines of their bones were nearly alike, subtle differences that gave stark contrast to the final product. Where Jun Ki courted his beauty, weaving it around him with a cultured panache, there was no question as to the feralness of the creature dancing below. Jaejoong wore his sex as an unconscious thing, a piece of his skin or the air he exhaled, not caring to look beyond his hedonistic pursuits.
“There’s something wild about him.” Se7en commented with a languid drawl, draping one arm over the back of his chair and leaning back to study the young man below. “Our Jun Ki is much more civilized. Much more of a seme once the make up is scraped off of his beautiful face.”
“Hah!” Jun Ki shook his head at his friend, the other man’s mocking as familiar to him as breathing. “I thank you for your assessment of my manhood.”
“I’m glad to tell you that you are more of a man than Jaejoong.” Dong-wook replied. “You just have to prove it.”
“I think Jun Ki oppa is prettier.” A woman simpered, resting her chin on her palm, her elbow firm on the wide steel railing around the upper balcony. Jun Ki wanted to switch seats with her, the spot a better vantage point to watch the floor below. “That Jaejoong is too...coarse.”
“Besides, he likes men.” The other woman laughed, a brassy sharpness to her cackle. She wiggled her pinky finger, a grotesque gesture incongruent to the fashionable veneer she slathered on her face.
Ignoring the women’s comments, Jun Ki eyed Choi Dong-wook, a smile wrapping slyly around the singer’s comely face. Nudging his friend, Jun Ki leaned in close, cocking his head to the side. Se7en’s wide eyed expression told Jun Ki nothing other than Dong-wook knew something that he would have to be coerced to share, a common enough occurrence between them.
“What do you know, Dong-wook?” Jun Ki slid his chair closer, his head bending in to keep their voices as low as he could below the driving thump of the music.
“A lot of things. Especially about Kim Jaejoong.” Dong-wook replied. “He’s very good on the sheets and purrs when you rub him right. Loyal to his friends, affectionate even though he looks cold. And... to be crude... tight and sweet.”
“I’m not looking for an entanglement.” The actor said. “I can’t afford one right now. I don’t want to seem shallow but... right now, I just can’t.”
“Jaejoong doesn’t do entanglements.” Sipping at his drink, the singer motioned to where other members of Jae’s singing group sat among friends. “Those are the only men that hold his heart right now. Everything else is just... satiation and politeness afterward.”
Se7en’s tongue laved just at the edge of Jun Ki’s earlobe, leaving a small wet trail along the plump flesh. ““I also know right now, I can see he’s heading to the VIP lounges, probably to use the bathroom there. If you hurry, you can probably catch him.”
“And once I have him?” Jun Ki lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Then what do I do with him?”
“If I have to explain that to you, Junnie...” Se7en leaned back in his chair, a taunt gleaming from his sparkling gaze. “Then I haven’t taught you anything and you’re hopeless.”
Jaejoong met Jun Ki’s gaze in the wide mirror running along the room’s far wall, the singer rebuttoning his jeans as he emerged from the single stall. The jut of the singer’s pout tantalized Jun Ki, the actor wondering if the sweat on the younger man’s upper lip would taste as salty as the rest of his body.
The lounge was small compared to some of the other clubs’, a private room set on a central hub suite, the doors lockable from the inside. A wide closet barely large enough for a toilet and a sink served for facilities, the rooms’ main purpose of affording special guests a place for side intimacies and privacies more apparent in the luxurious fabrics on a pair of red velvet chaises, the burnt-out fabric alive with paisley swirls. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, the soft muted yellow light gleaming off of the dark chestnut wainscoting. The walls were the same hue as the chaises, a brushed silk fabric studded with brass fittings around the edges.
A heavy sideboard held a collection of fruits, crackers and small tidbits of foods, one of its side doors hiding a mini-fridge stocked with water and alcohol. Jaejoong reached for the water bottle he left on the table top, unscrewing the top and sipping carefully at the opening, his eyes never leaving Jun Ki’s.
Jaejoong pursed his mouth, swallowing the water slowly. Clearing his throat, he recapped the bottle, putting it back on the edge of the table “I think you have the wrong room, Lee Jun KI.”
“No, I have the right room, Kim Jaejoong.” Jun Ki closed the door behind him, shutting the room off from the outside world. A weighted silence fell, broken only by the sounds of his boots as the actor walked across the wooden floor. Placing his hands on either side of Jae’s hips, Jun Ki trapped Jaejoong against the side table, leaning into the singer’s sensual body.
Jaejoong’s face tilted up, more than a challenge in the set of his jaw. Close up, the singer’s eroticism flooded Jun Ki’s senses, nearly knocking him breathless. There was something he couldn’t place in the singer’s manner, a coy mixture of bravado and shyness. His mouth begged to be kissed, the singer’s lips plumped and inviting. Dark liquid kohl lined the boy’s poured caramel eyes, long lashes held steady against Jun Ki’s perusal. Lean bodied, the singer’s trim waist and flat stomach ran hard with muscle, his arms flexed tight as he gripped the edge of the sideboard.
The sheen of sweat on his stomach glistened, the barest of moistures on the young man’s porcelain skin. Jun Ki ran the back of his index finger along the dip of Jaejoong’s navel, capturing the wet to bring it to his own mouth. The cant of the boy’s head changed, a determined hardness replacing the phlegmatic distance. Undeterred, Jun Ki licked at the drops he’d taken from Jae’s stomach, wanting the taste to last under the wash of his tongue.
There was a musk to other men, a satisfying fill of the senses that spoke to the earth and sometimes the sea, a connection to the land that every man had in their skin, just under the surface of the thin epidermis. Jun Ki always surmised it was from the founding of man from the dirt, the grains of mankind’s existence somehow caught in the blood that flowed into a man’s heart and back out.
It was not here in this boy.
Jaejoong did not have the sweet ripeness of a woman, the dark floral spice inherent to the yang. There was nothing feminine in the way the young man’s sweat filled the crevices of Jun Ki’s tongue, wandering down into his gums and rising up in an arduous perfume to the back of his senses.
Jun Ki savoured the sky in Jaejoong’s body, a thunder and steel canopy riddled with the silver kiss of a sweet rain. Lighter than a man, more erotically sensual than the brush of a woman’s velvet, Jaejoong tasted of light and promise, a depth of shadowy pleasure. His mouth promised even more, a hint of raspberry on creamy skin.
Sliding forward, Jun Ki stole a hint of a smile from Jaejoong’s lips, the press of Jun Ki’s tongue against the corners moistened with fresh water. Silently urging the singer to part the way for him, Jun Ki teased, nibbling just at the ridge of Jae’s upper lip then suckling on the soft fullness below. Silken with desire, the kiss intensified, drawing Jae out with its slow descent into a heated eruption.
Still holding the edge of the sideboard, Jae made the slightest of movements, the dip of his wet tongue on the parted ridge of Jun Ki’s mouth, and the world burst apart in Jun Ki’s mind. The returning kiss set the actor on fire, scorching his control to cinders, the need for the young man growing in a heaviness between his legs. Sliding his body between Jaejoong’s spread legs, Jun Ki cradled himself against the younger man’s torso.
Jun Ki’s fingers covered Jaejoong’s hands, long slender strokes on the inside of the singer’s wrists. He stole another taste, pressing up tight against Jae’s curved torso, drawing out a tiny mewling groan Jun Ki answered with a possessive growl. Supple, the singer melted under him, caramel sweetness pulled tight around Jun Ki’s long body, just the remains of a caress swelling their mouths as the actor pulled away to catch his breath.
“I want you.” Jun Ki whispered, his hands moving to Jae’s exposed waist, the singer’s shirt ridden up to expose the piercing along his navel. He could feel the singer’s arousal, just on the inside of his thighs. “You’re so pretty.”
“No.” Jaejoong spoke, contralto and firm. His husky roll of words tinted as erotic as kiss, the stubbornness in his tone held no room for argument. “You’re the pretty one, Jun Ki. All petted and stroked with feathers, your fur brushed fine every day and people telling you how perfect you are. I’m not pretty. What I am is a commodity, something that’s put on display and behind glass. No one touches. Everyone looks and says stupid things like you’re so very pretty, Jaejoong but the reality of it is that no one really sees me. They see what I’m made into.”
“That’s what you’re seeing, Lee Jun Ki.” Jaejoong whispered into the actor’s ear, biting down on the soft skin below the joint of his jaw. Jun Ki hissed, his hardness thickening under the pleasurable pain. Placing his hands on Jun Ki’s chest, Jaejoong pushed the older man away, stepping out from between the actor’s arms. “You came in here thinking that I was something pampered and would give you what you wanted out of my body but I’m telling you, Lee Jun Ki, that won’t be the case.”
“I’m guessing Se7en sent you in here, telling you tales about how easy I am. What he didn’t tell you is that I need more than a few whispers and hot kisses. When you’re ready to give me more, come see me, Jun Ki.” Jaejoong snatched the water bottle, sauntering towards the door. “You’re going to have to give as good as you get if you want to share any time with me. I’m not a one-way street.”