Rating: Barely lime
i'll leave this to your imagination.
The sound of Junsu’s hefty slurp should have warned Yoochun, a slithering noodle flailing about the other’s pursed lips. Broth splattered the baritone’s face, a bit of green onion sticking to the side of his nose. Crossing his eyes, Yoochun affixed his gaze to the offending piece of vegetation, momentarily unsure if he should burst into laughter or feel outrage over Junsu’s manners. Junsu bent close, studying the speck of savory caught against the crease of Yoochun’s nose. A thought flitted through his brown eyes, the singer contemplating his friend’s face.
A slow lick of Junsu’s tongue on Yoochun’s cheek took the green onion bit off, leaving a wide swath of a warm wet lave behind. Junsu studied his handiwork, nodding curtly in satisfaction at the stunned grin of Yoochun’s smile. Dipping his chopsticks into his dish, the tenor wound another mouthful up to his parted lips, carefully chewing the noodles from the wooden implements.
Sitting on the corner of a busy intersection, the noodle shop boasted a fine view of pedestrians, its upper balcony serving as an intimate dining spot. The other table was empty, its barren two chairs tilted forward against the railing to avoid collecting water in the seats during Seoul’s spring rains. Thick with people, the sidewalks bustled with activity, jackets tossed into winter closets with the rising of a warmer sun.
“Isn’t Yunho’s tongue odd?” Yoochun bent the tip of his tongue under, pressing against his teeth to show Junsu. “I can’t do it.”
“His tongue is very flexible. I wonder if Jaejoong has any complaints about it.” Su acknowledged Yoochun’s chuckle with one of his own, chewing around a mouth of noodles. Sliding his shoes off, the tenor lifted his feet, tucking them into Yoochun’s lap. “My feet are cold.”
“You can leave them there to get warm.” One of the baritone’s large hands slid down over Junsu’s socked foot, finding the other’s ankle bone with his index finger. “Your toes are always cold. It probably doesn’t help that winter was so harsh this season. I hope it means we’ll have a mild summer.”
“Not that we’ll see any of it.” Junsu made a face, thinking of the schedule posted on the board in their music studio. “I wish we could go back to Bora Bora and just relax. Do nothing but sit in the sun and get brown.”
“We’ll have to wrap Jaejoong in something heavy. He burns too easily.”
“It’s not as if either one of those two will ever see the sun.” Junsu snorted. They’d been woken up by Yunho’s deep laughter and the pounding of feet through the hallway as Jaejoong fled from the lover he adored. The couple often spoke in half-conversations, murmured words holding double meanings, a ghostly echo of the passion they shared in their room. “Come on, there’s a candy store I want to take you to.”
They would have the apartment to themselves that weekend, a rare event that both of them wanted to cherish. With a bagful of candy purchased from a nearby shop, Junsu walked besides Yoochun, his hip bumping the other’s side with every few steps. Yoochun grinned, barely able to resist looking through the bag of rented DVDs they’d spent half an hour choosing.
Impatient with the slow elevator, Junsu bounded up the stairwell to their apartment, Yoochun’s long legs eating up the distance between the other singer gained with his head start. Gasping, they reached the top landing, Yoochun bending over to catch his breath. Laughing hard, Junsu leaned against the wall, the floor’s number painted in large red symbols. A single slender flight of stairs rose up from the landing, providing the members access to the roof where they often star-gazed and ate hot meals, watching the lights of the city around them.
“It’s cold in here. I wonder why they spend so much time in here.” Junsu puffed a breath of air out of his lungs, trying to see if it would turn to mist in the icy cement stairwell. Yoochun didn’t need clarification on who Junsu was speaking of. Jaejoong and Yunho often disappeared for an hour or so, sequestered in the relative intimacy of the stairwell.
“I’m sure they find ways to keep warm.” Yoochun nodded towards the smaller stairs. “I’ve come in here looking for them and that’s where they are, cuddled against one another.”
Junsu paced over to the tight width of stairs, eyeing them carefully. Setting the bag down, he sat on the third step, arranging his body into what he thought was a careless sprawl. Pouting up at Yoochun, he licked at the corner of his mouth, pulling the back of his hair forward and sighed. “Guess who I am?”
“Aish, you’re horrible!” Yoochun crossed to him, slapping at the tenor’s shoulder. “Don’t tease Joongie-ah.”
“Come on, you can be Yunho.” Junsu playfully tugged at Yoochun’s shirt. “It’s colder over here. There’s probably a draft coming from outside. No wonder Yunnie-ah is always cuddling JaeJae out here. He’d freeze to death otherwise.”
“If I do this, and you tell… I will put ice in your sheets as you sleep.” Yoochun warned, shrugging off his jacket. “Because Yunnie-ah would kill us and it would hurt Jaejoong’s feelings. Maybe. If he didn’t die laughing at us.”
Junsu crossed his fingers over his heart, his throat closing up at the sight of Yoochun’s bared belly as the hem of his t-shirt traveled up. A sprinkling of dark hairs created a whorl below the baritone’s navel, a lick of a sensual promise for the delights hidden below the waistband of his jeans. Straddling Junsu’s splayed legs, Yoochun positioned his feet on the bottom steps, wondering how Junsu seemed to talk him into the silliest things.
“You have to be more Yunho.” Junsu hooked his fingers into Yoochun’s jeans, his fingers cold on the singer’s stomach. The warmth on Junsu’s hands purred a lengthy desire into his chest, the softness of Yoochun’s tender skin a hot burn invoking wicked thoughts Junsu would cherish later. Pulling Yoochun forward, Junsu grunted when the singer’s chin struck his shoulder, Micky’s hands catching on the steps near Junsu’s head, struggling not to fall on the slender young man.
“Careful.” Yoochun warned, his hips shifting against Junsu’s thighs, trying not to crush his friend under his greater weight. “Changmin will never forgive me if I kill you. He’d be stuck singing your parts.”
“You’re not doing this right.” Junsu balled up his fist, lightly striking Yoochun on the jaw. “You’re Yunho. Here, I’ll be Jaejoong again. So you get inspiration.”
Junsu dipped his head down, covering his mouth with his hand, taking a quiet glance up at Yoochun’s handsome face. The cant of his chin and dark eyes nearly captured Jaejoong’s coyness, the effect ruined by Junsu’s wider smile breaking free from his pout. The tenor slid slightly under Yoochun’s body, hooking another hand under the soft cotton shirt, spanning the young man’s ribs. Stroking gently, Junsu tilted his head back, the scant light of the stairwell running silver threads over his cheekbones.
“Ah, BooJae.” Yoochun deepened his voice and then broke into laughter. Trying to compose himself, he rested his forehead on Junsu’s chest, inhaling the sugar sweetness of the other’s soul into his lungs. “Hey, is this my shirt?”
“Is that you or hyung?” The tenor’s eyes narrowed. “And yes, it is your shirt.”
“I wore that yesterday. I put it in the wash.”
“It was still clean.” Junsu rapped Yoochun on the side of his head. “And besides, it smells like you. I thought if I was going to spend the whole weekend with you, I might as well smell like you too.”
“I like knowing that you have my scent on you.” Yoochun’s tone grew serious, a darkening velvet burring his voice. The deepening pitch husked shivers into Junsu’s spine. “Is that close enough for you, Junnie-ah? Is that the part of hyung that you want? Or maybe when he touches?”
Yoochun’s hand moved from the stairs, his weight shifting to his knees. Running a smoldering touch over Junsu’s stomach, Micky slid his hand under his own shirt, exploring the cooled skin below. A fever shook goose bumps over Junsu’s flesh, chasing the baritone’s fingers in a lustful dance. Rubbing his thumb under the tenor’s chest, Yoochun ghosted a thumb pad over the pebbled plum peak of Junsu’s nipple, feeling it tighten under his touch. The resulting hiss from Junsu’s parted lips thrilled Yoochun, his teeth nipping at the spot on Junsu’s throat where a birthmark would be if he were Jaejoong.
Growling in his throat, Yoochun suckled at the spot, pulling the blood to the surface until Junsu panted and mewled, his voice rough and needy. With his breath shortening in his chest, the tenor’s hands roamed over Yoochun’s back, clutching at his broad shoulders, silently begging the other to continue.
Yoochun’s mouth found its way to Junsu’s face, a delicate nip of teeth on the tenor’s lips and a heated whisper urged the tenor to open for him. “Let me taste you. Just a little bit. Before we have to return to what we are outside in the world.”
Junsu cupped Yoochun’s jaw, sliding a sensual kiss over the other’s lips. A suckle and then the taste of the musky sweet of Yoochun’s mouth flooded the singer with pleasure, his body responding with a sharp twinge of desire in his gut and between his legs. The fire started in his groin licked down the insides of his thighs, stroked from embers to a raging storm as Yoochun’s tongue darted and flirted with the roof of Junsu’s mouth, running over the striations on the tenor’s palate.
Gripping his hands in Yoochun’s hair, Junsu sucked the moisture from Yoochun’s lower lip, savouring the taste of their combined mouths in the sugared tendrils. Reluctant to let the baritone go, Junsu locked eyes with Yoochun, his lips pressed lightly on Micky’s, parted so their air tangled together between them, pouring into their chests and filling the spaces left untouched by the cold.
“I would live inside of you, if I could.” Yoochun breathed into Junsu’s open mouth, the harsh rasp of his voice softened by the tender look in his eyes. “I don’t know how others can do this and be apart.”
“Hey!” The startling cold ice of Changmin’s shocked voice shook the friends apart, Micky losing his balance and sliding from the steps, banging his knee on the hard floor. The shock of striking the cement’s edge with his elbow reverberated into Junsu’s nerves, chasing away the delightful erotic tingle of Yoochun’s body stretched over his. Changmin stepped into the stairwell, his youthful face conflicted with a horrified amazement and curiosity. “What are the two of you doing?”
“We were pretending to be Jaejoong and Yunho.” Junsu blurted out, shrugging helplessly at Yoochun’s hot look of condemnation. “I was Jaejoong.”
“I saw.” Changmin’s brow furrowed, his mouth set in displeasure. “Why weren’t you Yunho? You’re more bossy than Yoochun.”
“I pout better.” Junsu stood up, brushing off the dust from Yoochun’s rear. The baritone jerked away, his face flushed red. The tenor slapped away Yoochun’s protesting hands, futile at staving off Junsu’s ministrations. “Hold still, Chunnie. You look like you went rolling in a baseball field.”
“What are you doing home, dongsaeng?” Yoochun turned suddenly, trying not to let the feel of Junsu’s hands on his rear affect him. “You were supposed to be at a seminar for school.”
“They cancelled it.” Changmin shrugged, spotting the bag of DVDs left abandoned by the door. Digging through the bag, the youngest made sounds of approval at the selection, wandering back towards the apartment nearby. “I was about to order food in. Let me know what you want.”
Junsu retrieved the candy, sighing at losing the chance to lick pieces of chocolate until they melted and rubbing the soft sweet over Yoochun’s body. Hooking an arm around the baritone’s waist, Junsu rested his head on his friend’s shoulder, sighing.
“Your Yunho was much better than my Jaejoong.” Junsu teased. “It’s hard to be sexy and not know it.”
“He does that well.” Yoochun admitted, swallowing the taste of Junsu’s mouth that lingered in his. “You were better than me. You lounged well. If I didn’t know better, I would swear that you studied him doing that.”
“Ah, if you’ve seen one cat sprawled in a sunbeam, then you can mimic Jaejoong on the couch.” Junsu eased through the doorframe, unwilling to release his hold on the other. “I can tell you one thing we were successful with.”
“What’s that?” Yoochun slid his hand down, resting the flat of his palm on the small of Junsu’s back.
“I think we played Jaejoong and Yunho too well.” Junsu remarked, hearing the loud blare of an action movie from the living room. “Just when we were getting comfortable and touching, there was Changmin between us.”
“We’ll have to play at being ourselves soon.” Junsu said, detaching from Yoochun and walking to the kitchen to look at the dinner menu left on the counter. “There is no one standing between us… just air. And that can be taken away with enough heat, Chunnie-ah. I am certain of it.”