Pairing: Yoosu (Jaeho)
Section Rating: R
Overall Rating: NC-17
Synopsis: A continuation of the relationship between Yoochun and Junsu from So Much Mine. Once again, hot pretty boys, music, dancing and sex. Not necessarily in that order.
“Changmin!” Junsu barely stopped long enough to shout at the lanky young man walking into the living room. “Can you grab us some water?”
The youngest looked wearily at the pair playing a racing game, the television screen flicking and flowing with asphalt jungles and two sleek, low slung street racers. Junsu crowed at cutting off his friend, Yoochun’s frantic thumb movements sliding over the controller in an attempt to catch up. Neither appeared as tired as they should be, the long day dragging down over the singers when they’d first come in.
They’d been pulled in so many direction over the last few weeks, Changmin wasn’t sure what day it was. The quiet of the dark streets was no help, the late hour a rush of silence filled with the mingled shouts of the two older men. Junsu’s wide grin shoved aside his fatigue, the tenor’s good-natured grumbling a lift to Changmin’s soul. Setting two water bottles on the table, the youngest tucked himself into the corner of the couch, his long legs barely fitting against Junsu’s hips. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile, the older man’s wink a thrilling ribbon into his belly.
“What are the three of you still doing awake?” Yunho stood at the end of the hallway leading to their bedrooms, his hair still damp from his shower. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”
”Yes, father.” Yoochun slid his car around Junsu’s, the back end curving wildly around the corner. Ignoring the other’s shout of outrage, he pressed forward, nearly careening into the back of a bus edging into the traffic. Muttering a small curse, he downshifted, trying to keep Junsu’s approaching car trapped behind the pixilated obstacle.
“Hyung, we’ve got the next few days off.” Changmin spoke for Junsu, the tenor’s attention fully on the game and not on the younger man’s feet sliding under his thigh. “They’re probably excited for it.”
“Why are you awake then, Min?” Yunho cocked his head at their youngest member. “Or did you get enough sleep on the plane?”
“More than enough.” The youngest nodded, the back of his head still aching from the hard cushioning of the airline seat. “I just need to spend some time sitting someplace that isn’t moving and smells like home.”
Yunho’s grunt acknowledged his understanding of wanting to be home. They’d all spend the various plane hops jostled and pushed into interviews and strange rooms. When they finally were able to collapse in their hotel rooms, they were often maneuvered into bedroom pairings that hinted of keeping Yunho and Jaejoong apart, Yoochun and their road manager often paired with Changmin and the eldest while Yunho and Junsu were left to fend for themselves. Yunho took the assignments with a glowering acceptance where Jaejoong merely shrugged and called him late at night, a clandestine rendezvous of murmured love and suggestive needs.
He was home now. In his own bed. With his lover. If the other three wanted to stay up until dawn broke, rose and fell that was fine with Yunho. Shrugging off the mantle of leadership, Yunho shut off the hallway lights and padded to his bedroom, shutting the world out behind a closed door.
“We’re not going to see them the entire time.” Changmin leaned his head back on the sofa’s arm, wiggling his toes experimentally under Junsu.
The older man bent slightly over, rubbing his elbow along the youngest’s shin. “You keep doing that and Yoochun will win.”
“Ah, Changmin, my secret weapon!” Yoochun crowed, shouting in glee as Junsu’s car slammed into the back of a taxi.
The youngest singer murmured an apology to Junsu, nearly withdrawing from the couch. The elder stopped him, the feel of Junsu’s thumb on the ridge of his ankle bone. Stroking at the younger man’s calf muscle, Junsu reassured Changmin with a soft smile, shaking his head as Yoochun logged in his win, the letters flying on the screen in a dizzying dance.
“It’s alright, dongsaeng.” The tenor said. “Stay. You’ll bring me luck in the next race.”
“Hah!” Yoochun mocked, taking a sip from a water bottle, offering it to Junsu before stretching out his hands, working the numbness from his fingertips. “Let’s see how well you do in this city!”
“Pretty cocky for someone who’s only won one game.” The young man bumped his friend’s shoulder, handing the bottle to Changmin. “We should bet on this.”
“Ah, you have a good luck token with you.” Yoochun nodded towards Changmin. “I’ll need to get one. Wait here.”
“You two are such good friends.” Changmin heard himself and winced. With the chance to speak with Junsu, alone and in the relative darkness of the dimly lit living room, he’d chosen to bring up Yoochun. Charismatic and jovial Chunnie-ah, the centre of Jaejoong’s and Junsu’s affections. Fumbling to extract himself from that line of thought, he continued. “You and I are good friends too.”
“It’s nice to have a little brother, Minne-ah.” Junsu agreed, wondering how long Yoochun would take. “I’ve not had one before. Even as a twin, I’m the youngest. Hyung is also bigger…and never lets me forget it.”
“I … “ Changmin stared at Junsu’s handsome face, astonished at the other man’s response. A little brother. After all of the machinations he’d arranged to bring the elders together and the sly hints he’d laid out for Junsu’s attractions, the tenor still thought of him as a child to be patted on the top of the head and sent to bed while the older boys played. “Junnie-ah…”
“Ah, that’s hyung to you, little boy.” Yoochun squeezed in between the chair and the end of the couch, his long legs stretching over Junsu’s shins before plopping back into the soft cushions. He gripped a familiar floppy eared light orchid hued rabbit in his hand, its uneven button eyes bobbing about as the singer arranged it on the pillows. “There, that’s my good luck token.”
“Aish, you can’t use our son as a good luck token!” Junsu protested.
“You’re using YunJae’s son as yours.” Yoochun playfully pointed out, not seeing the shimmer of rage burning in the depths of Changmin’s expression. “Now, Paris is waiting to see your defeat.”
The tremors rocking Changmin’s emotions stilled under Junsu’s hand running long strokes over his leg. Sighing at the touch, he ventured. “Do you mind that I called you Junnie-ah?”
“What?” Junsu frowned at Yoochun’s choice of tracks, shaking his head at the spiraling maze, knowing the course would benefit his car while hindering Micky’s wider model. “No, of course not, Minnie-ah. You can call me that. I don’t mind.”
Changmin slept that night dreaming of tender smiles and the feel of the other’s hands on his body, refusing to hear the whisper of his soul saying that Junsu’s eyes were on Yoochun’s face.
Yoochun didn’t fight the yawn stretching from the lower end of his belly to the back of his throat, not covering the exhalation as he scrubbed at his bristle of hair with his right hand. Sleep clung to his eyes in small grains, made larger by the weariness of his body finally seeping down into the marrow of his bones. Shedding the loose cotton pants he wore, Yoochun stretched his arms over his head, cracking the tightness of his neck and popping the bones in his spine. The rattle of popcorn sounds drew Junsu’s attention, the other man coming in from the bathroom, wiping his bare chest off with a damp towel.
The other man’s trim body was a pleasing sight after the crazy levels of the video game, a stretch of pale skin promising warmth and sweetness. Junsu’s attention followed the trail of dusting hair just below the other’s belly button. Lacking the power of Yunho’s sculpted body, Yoochun’s beauty lay in the even breadth of his shoulders and trim waist, masculine with a faint hint of tenderness. Micky’s body held the sweetness of his soul in its clear prettiness, comfortable and sensually erotic, a hint of the low rumbling voice that sent shivers into the secret core of Junsu’s pleasures.
Junsu’s distracted perusal of the other’s body was interrupted by Micky’s expletive cutting blue into the air. Startled from his staring, the young man stepped forward, alarmed at Yoochun’s rubbing of his shin. Junsu tasted the taint of blood on his upper lip, his teeth cutting into the tender flesh where he’d bitten in deep, his eyes running hot lust over the firmness of Yoochun’s rear…not realizing the other man had been bending over in pain.
“Chunnie!” Junsu climbed over his bed to reach the other’s side. “What happened?”
“I hit the table again.” Micky restrained himself from kicking the offending furniture. “It’s dangerous. It lies in wait like a rabid cat and pounces when I walk by. It has always hated me.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Junsu sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Yoochun’s hands away from the bruising spot. “Stop moving. Let me see if you’ve done some damage.”
“It probably plots to kill me in my sleep, stopping only because you are sleeping next to me and it doesn’t want any witnesses.” Yoochun complained, feeling Junsu’s hand on his waist pull him forward.
The other’s hot breath on his thigh brought a crawling heat along the inside of his thighs, his groin roiling tight as Junsu’s fingers lightly skimmed the red welt along his shin. Leaning his head back, Micky inhaled sharply, trying to pull the cold air from the open window into his lungs, unnerved at his body’s reaction.
“You’re covered in bruises, Chunnie-ah.” Junsu whistled under his breath, spreading his fingers up over a mottled purple stain on Micky’s inner thigh. “What did you do here?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably Changmin’s elbows or knees when we dance. I can’t seem to dodge him. He follows me around and hits. I think he’s growing too fast to get used to his arms and legs.” He shrugged, unable to look down. His boxers were offering little protection to the jutting length of his arousal, the need to sit down and hide under the blankets finally making him pull away from Junsu’s cautious explorations. Grabbing at the stuffed bunny, Yoochun thrust it at the other, hoping Junsu hadn’t noticed his response. “Here, your son is crying for you.”
“Why is he my son when he’s crying but your son when he’s helping you win a race?” Junsu bent forward, sliding up onto the edge of his bed. Taking the rabbit, he played with its buttoned eyes, finding the cracked edge on the right, a familiar snag under his lingering touch. “He smells like you now.”
“I bathed.” Yoochun protested. “He can’t smell.”
“It’s not a bad smell.” Junsu defended his friend, cradling the bunny to his chin. “I like how you smell. It’s like wintergreen and oranges. Sometimes I can’t drink mint tea without thinking about you.”
Yoochun cocked his head, smiling at his friend. Sliding under his sheets, the baritone lay on his side as the other turned off the main light, leaving the table lamp’s soft glow to fill the tight space between their beds. A rumble of laughter echoed outside of their bedroom, a light from the hall edging under the door then shutting off as Yunho found his way back into his room. They lay there quiet, listening for the telltale murmurs of the older men settling down for the night, lost in the bemused wondering of what happened when the door across theirs closed for the night.
“They’ve probably missed each other while we toured.” Junsu finally said, his words heavy with longing. He’d been on Yunho’s side of the conversations a few times, walking in from a shower or after an interview. Their body language with one another was ripe with innuendo, Yunho’s protectiveness surfacing when fans crowded in on the fragile, feral Jaejoong.
It was difficult to watch sometimes, the sidelong glances during radio interviews, cameras poised on their faces. Yunho struggling not to touch Jaejoong when the other man faltered, jostled by a manager into answering a question. Distant and reserved in front of prying eyes, Jaejoong took longer to bloom, coyly seductive behind a masked indifference. Yoochun often filled in the chasms of his friend’s quiet, teasing a smile from their main singer, relaxing Jae. Changmin could do little but stand between the couple, his youth making him unsure of give support but knowing he provided needed distance between the two lovers.
As always, Junsu was at Micky’s side, a counterpoint to the seriousness at the other end, whispering naughty suggestive pranks into Yoochun’s willing ear. Micky lived for those whispers, hearing loving seductive things amid the sarcastic proddings, innocent wide-eyed looks shot back at him when Yoochun turned to glare at Junsu’s erotic teasings.
“I’m glad I’m not them.” Yoochun wondered if he could lay on his back and hide his hips with the sheets. Pulling at the linens, he willed his body to relax, wanting the aching hardness to subside. Certain his reaction was from weariness and the lack of female attention, Yoochun concentrated on Junsu’s pleasant husky voice, hoping the other’s rolling accent would lull him into a restful sleep.
His gaze drew towards Junsu, the other man’s face illuminated into a sculpture of bone and light from the lamp’s glow. Yoochun never tired of seeing the carved beauty, so very different from the exotic features of his best friend. Junsu’s haunting eyes followed him in his dreams, serious and focused despite the young singer’s cheerful nature. People only saw the surface of Junsu’s personality, the bubbling overflow of delight and teasing flirtations. Micky knew of the steady minded focus Junsu held in his heart, a driven determination to make a mark on the world, stronger and stubbornly pushing himself and coaxing the others with a smile into doing just one more take.
Where Yunho led with sheer determination and maturity, Junsu guided with a gentle hand, herding the others in concert to their hyung’s wishes. Desire to reach the stars lay in all of their souls but burned brightest in Junsu. Micky’s own love of music, a deeply seated talent was now a recognized tool to their success, supported by Junsu’s critical ear and soft encouragements, a welcome respite from the frustration Micky felt when a piece of a song fell from his reach.
Over the past few days, there’d been whispers of removing Jaejoong from their midst, a terrifying thought for the homesick Yoochun. Fear became a ravenous scuttle of poisonous insects, skittering long hooked limbs dragging bloated barbed carapaces into Micky’s intestines. The members banded tight into one another, becoming a cohesive bloc that refused to be broken. They’d been reassured, comforting words spoken over several hours that the rumours were untrue, jealous non-truths spoken to undermine the group’s tightness. Micky retained that feeling of fear, the trembling caustic acid that burned into his mind. He would keep that memory to remind him of the fragility of the family surrounding him, a warm blanket of love and arguments that kept him safe in an unfamiliar homeland.
“Do you want that kind of love, Chunnie?” Junsu turned, resting his head on his hand.
The distance between their beds seemed a canyon, barely crossed with whispers and laughter. Inside, the tenor knew he wanted to crawl over the emptiness and slide against his friend’s compact body, hugging his arms around Yoochun’s waist as they spoke. In the tenderness still between them, Junsu felt Micky’s easy forgiveness, the trust he broke healing under careful ministrations and words.
“I think for me, love means…home.” Yoochun breathed a sigh of relief, his length softening with each passing moment. Thinking of how he’d want his life, Micky pondered the possibilities. “I’d want her to be willing to understand that I’m not… busy. That I like a soft, gentle life after a crazy hard day. I don’t need someone to cook and clean. I’d want her to be able to see my heart and be… strong for me.”
“Ah.” Junsu wasn’t sure why the stabbing prick of pain dug into his heart but the other’s words stung, a faceless woman flitting through Micky’s life. “That sounds more like a mistress than a wife. What does this woman look like?”
“Aish.” Yoochun reevaluated his thoughts, finding no foundation for his dreams. “I haven’t… looked. I guess I never thought about it. A family is such a.. large responsibility. And suppose I end up like… other people and walk away from my family? That’s always been one of my fears. That I would leave my children behind because the woman who had them is someone I’ve begun to hate.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” Junsu whispered, hearing the heartbreak crackling through Yoochun’s words. Stepping from his bed, he crouched at Micky’s side, his bare feet a whisper on the soft throw rug. “You are not that man. I can’t ever see you throwing someone away because they are connected to someone else. That’s not in your heart. Chunnie-ah, look at how much you forgave in me!”
“How could I not?” Yoochun asked, a wonderment in his dark eyes. The tender feelings for Junsu flared in his soul. “The best thing that happened to me this year was your coming back into this bedroom.”
“Despite the…” Junsu was reluctant to say lies but that still lay rankled at their peace. Neither spoke of the argument they’d had, a flurry of hard-fisted words thrown blindly before they stewed in hot silence. It whispered away in time, but its dried corpse still lay unburied between them.
“Maybe because of that.” Micky turned, facing his friend. Sliding back, he silently made room for Junsu’s body, the other crawling up onto the bed and tucking under lifted sheets. Snuggled into the crook of Micky’s raised arm, Junsu held the bunny between them, a mute plush chaperon for his lust.
“I think that it gave me… more of you. All of you, really.” Yoochun said softly, his fingers tracing the edges of the bunny’s ears. “And then when you realized I forgave you, you learned that you could really trust me. Maybe it’s something that we both had to have happen.”
“I never thought I would feel as much happiness as when you said that you loved me too much to hate me.” Junsu whispered, nuzzled into his friend’s warmth. “I’m glad you understand how … hard it was.”
“I know.” The baritone responded. Micky stroked at the softness of Junsu’s cheek, his fingers casting long shadows over the other’s hooded eyes. “Now seeing Jaejoong and Yunho, I understand such things better.”
“Such things?” Junsu laughed softly. “Love is love, yes. Well, in my case, lust is lust.”
“So, only lust?” Yoochun looked at his friend in surprise. “No relationships? Ever?”
“Too hard.” Junsu shook his head, purring when Micky’s fingers returned to his face, the long strokes easing the tension in his forehead. “Women… they’re hard to have relationships with. Always wanting time that you need for other things. And men, you can’t love a man like a girlfriend.”
“Jaejoong and Yunho…” Yoochun started to say, stopped when Junsu’s fingers pressed on his lips.
“They’re married.” The young man sighed. “Yunho isn’t the girlfriend and boyfriend type. It’s a full commitment. And Jaejoong probably doesn’t realize it or he doesn’t know how long forever is. But once he does, he’ll fight it a bit then settle into the relationship. People might say that they’re wrong and that they will end up in hell because men should not love men but I think that they love down into their souls. That can’t be wrong. They could be reborn as two stones on other sides of the world and they would find sea currents to ride until they rested on the same shore together, nestled in forgotten sands under the warm sun.”
“But it’s different for most people, Chunnie-ah. That kind of… intensity isn’t for everyone. It can’t be. Can you imagine the world if our lives were ruled by that kind of fire?” Junsu pointed out. “We would never survive ourselves. Someone love the idea of love but when faced with it, they run. Others think that the shallow feelings they have for another person is love and then spend the rest of their life wondering who is the stranger that they are married to.”
“I don’t want that kind of love.” Yoochun said. “But I think there… are other loves for people. I think I’d have a love that grows, unfolds and digs into the earth instead of reaching to burn into the sky like Jaejoong and Yunho. I want a forest that my heart plays in. Something fresh and sweetly green. A place where butterflies touch my face and leave a powdered kiss of colour on my skin.”
“Ah…” Junsu couldn’t resist sliding his leg over Yoochun’s shin, hooking his ankle over the other’s. The touch grounded him, the long feel of Yoochun’s thigh on his body a hot comfort. “That is why you’re the poet of us. Love for you is a dream you can have. For me, it’s an anchor around my neck. I wouldn’t be able to be out touring or singing, always worrying or wondering about the person I left at home. What I want for myself won’t be sacrificed for someone’s love. I know I’m selfish. So it’s better not to love and I won’t hurt anyone that way.”
“Maybe you should fall in love with someone you don’t leave at home.” Yoochun grinned, playfully tweaking at Junsu’s nose. “That way you always have your home with you, Susu.”
“I’d say the same for you, Chunnie-ah.” Junsu reached behind him and turned off the light, wrapping his body around Yoochun’s in the darkness. “Maybe that’s the best thing for your wandering heart. Another heart with itchy feet on the path with you.”