Pairing: Yoosu (Jaeho)
Overall Rating: NC-17
i still hold ranalore responsible for this mess.
I will NOT be posting tomorrow (Saturday my time... California time.) I will be back on Sunday.
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.
One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen
Ice hurt when put on bruised hands. Yoochun discovered that the moment Junsu wrapped the frozen gel pack over his skinned knuckles. He also discovered that blowing on cut open skin stopped the pain but that despite his training as a singer, he couldn’t keep it up indefinitely, the burning sear returning as soon as his breath panted to a whisper. Lack of air in his lungs made him dizzy, a situation that wasn’t helped by Junsu’s warm body sliding over his lap and legs.
“Stop moving.” Junsu warned his lover, patting the skin dry around Yoochun’s palm, trying to hold the pack in place for a minute then lifting it back up, glad his brother had endured similar traumas. “I can’t believe you hit Yunho’s father. You might have broke your hand.”
“I told you what he said.” Yoochun protested, the sting leeching down into his bones. “What else was I going to do?”
Junsu met Yoochun at the door, the tenor gasping aloud at the sight of Yoochun’s hand. Dragging the baritone into the living room, he’d left Yoochun alone only long enough to gather first aid supplies to take care of the slices across his lover’s knuckles. Bruises already had begun to spread under Yoochun’s skin, the joints swelling tightly, making it difficult for the singer to clench his hand. Speckles of blood clotted the cuts nearly close, reopening whenever Yoochun moved his fingers.
Cradling his elbow, Yoochun let Junsu fuss over him, grimacing as Changmin joined them. He balked at sharing the incident with the younger member, the youth insisting as he took the envelope from Yoochun’s nerveless fingers. Junsu straddled Yoochun’s thighs, holding his lover still as he prodded at the cuts, wiping them clean with an antibiotic swab before
“I’m surprised you knew what a catamite was.” Min muttered as he opened the envelope, pulling the photos free.
“Okay, I’ll have to admit… I have to look that one up. It didn’t sound nice and then he said...whore. So I didn’t have to worry about what catamite meant anymore.” Yoochun made a face at Junsu’s questioning look, shrugging at his lover while Changmin was distracted. “To tell the truth, I stopped hearing what he said after a few seconds. I just... hit. I’m the gentle one, remember? I’ve never hit anyone like that...not even my brother.”
“Well the least you could have done was break his nose.” Junsu shook his head, hissing at Yoochun’s boldness. “Or blacken his eye. Did you at least do that?”
“He might have a bruise on his cheek.” Yoochun thought hard, trying to remember where Mr. Jung had touched on his face. “Or his lip. I don’t know, Junnie. I wasn’t thinking about where I hit him. I think I was just… so pissed off and then...bam. Next time, I’ll aim better… just for you.”
“These are nice pictures of you and Jaejoong.” Changmin sat on the couch, pulling his bare feet up to rest on the coffee table. “The photographer is really good. I wonder if he knew that what he was doing was for someone who was an asshole. Or if he is one of those sleazes that likes spying on young men.”
“Minnie-ah!” Junsu glanced over his shoulder, staring down at the photo. He coveted one of Yoochun, the sun hitting his lover’s smile, touching the gold strands in his hair. “Okay, yes, those are nice pictures but Yoochun hit Yunho’s father! We don’t know how he’s going to react to that.”
“He called Jaejoong a whore.” Yoochun hissed, the ice pack slowly numbing his hand. “I couldn’t just let that go then all of a sudden, my hand hurt and I just wanted to hit him again. Harder. And then kick him. Maybe a couple of times. Punching him felt good. I’d do it again.”
“He’s…old!” Changmin exclaimed, turning one of the photos around, smiling at the expression on Jaejoong’s upturned face as rain struck his lightly tanned face. “You’re not supposed to hit old people.”
“He’s not that old.” Junsu muttered, dark thoughts clouding his mind. “If you’re going to say things like that against one of us, then you have to deal with the rest of the group. You were right to hit him, Chunnie-ah…even if I can’t believe you did it.”
“It was easy.” Yoochun frowned. “And hard. After I was done being mad, all I could do was worry about the rest of you. I’m an idiot. I wasn’t thinking about the group... well, I thought about the group but it was mostly... I’m sure they won’t mind.”
“Do you mind?” Yoochun looked up at his lover, Junsu still bent over his hand.
“No, I don’t mind. I’m concerned but we can’t let someone try to bully any of us. Yunho will be madder than you were, Chunnie.” The other man’s eyes flicked briefly over Micky’s worried face before straightening, leaning forward to brush a tiny kiss on Yoochun’s nose. “Mr. Jung has had enough of a head start. It will take Yunho a little bit of time to get to him and Yunnie-ah might be less pissed off by then.”
“Yunho might not want to see some of these.” Changmin held up a picture of Jaejoong leaning over Yoochun’s stomach, trailing an ice cube over the baritone’s bare torso. Jae’s erotic features and the sheer bliss on Micky’s face told a very different story of their relationship, a moment captured by an uninformed eye. “And I’m not sure I should either... even if I think I’m old enough.”
Junsu frowned at the picture, a barb of jealousy hooking into the bottom of his heart. He tried looking away but Yoochun’s fingers on his chin stopped him from turning his head. The baritone leaned forward, sliding his tongue over Junsu’s mouth and parting his lips, savouring a long taste of the tenor’s moistness. Changmin looked away, a slight pain dusting his dark gaze. Concentrating on the photo in his lap, the youngest bit on his lip, fighting back a tear that threatened to crack through his composure.
“The sad thing is, I’m still hungry. I never got anything to eat.” Yoochun grumbled, drawing Junsu’s attention back. “But the house doesn’t smell any more.”
“What are we going to do, hyung?” Min asked, placing the photos on the glass table. “Mr. Jung thinks that Jaejoong is some kind of... I’d say whore but I don’t want Chunnie-ah to punch me.”
“No, no punching the Min.” Junsu moved off of Yoochun’s lap, grabbing at the kitchen towel he’d brought with him and tamping the moisture leaking down his lover’s arm. “I think we should call Yunho and tell him because he’s meeting with his mother.”
“Aish.” Yoochun winced. “That would be a bad phone call to make right now.”
“Do you think she knew that her husband was going to... approached Yoochun?” Changmin asked. The situation worried him, Jaejoong’s fragile hold on his happiness too new to withstand a beating. “Is that why she called Yunho? To draw him away?”
“No...” Micky replied, trying to move his fingers as Junsu pulled the ice pack off of his abused hand. “Mr. Jung said his wife was meeting a friend. I think he’s cruel enough to be proud he pulled Yunho away from the group. I don’t think she has anything to do with what he planned.”
“I wonder if he even knows how much pain he’s causing Yunho.” The youngest sipped at the juice bottle he’d left on the table, the tart passion fruit a splash of liquid sunshine. “Maybe he thinks that what he’s doing is for Yunho’s own good.”
“He might.” Junsu said, holding his hand up to cut off Yoochun’s protesting cry. “People sometimes do stupid things, Chunnie-ah. Just because you become an adult, that doesn’t mean you suddenly have all of the answers. Time doesn’t give anyone wisdom. Just wrinkles.”
“You only become smarter because your mind learns and your heart grows.” Changmin agreed. “My mother says there are ancient people who are as stupid leaving and they were coming into the world.”
“Your mother is a very wise woman.” Junsu said. Looking over Yoochun’s hand, he was satisfied with the slow in the swelling, the redness subsided down to a rare pink instead of the angry crimson he’d first seen. Slathering on a final coat of antibiotics, Junsu applied plasters to the cuts, kissing Yoochun’s knuckles for good luck. “Yunho should still know. It might turn Mrs. Jung to their side. Accusing Jaejoong of... being unfaithful... Yunnie-ah should see her reaction.”
“Agreed.” Yoochun frowned. “I just don’t want JaeJae hurt in this.”
“Don’t worry, Chunnie.” Changmin patted his former rival’s thigh. “Yunho is there. He’ll be there to catch Jaejoong’s heart if it falls.”
Yunho stared up at the hotel’s front steps, his mind lingering on the last time he’d walked into its lobby. Then, he come seeking to cement the love he shared with the man standing next to him, a fey and feral Kim Jaejoong. Snow covered the grounds before, hills now teeming with the bright green shoots of grass poking through blankets of rich fertile soil. He’d felt reborn, cleansed of the disgust his parents washed him in when he broke with them. And now he was back to meet with the woman who’d rent his heart.
“We’re going to be late, love.” Jae touched Yunho’s back, urging the young man to mount the stairs. Smiling at Yunho’s distracted nod, Jae followed closely, nodding politely to the liveried doorman as they passed. “They replaced the sculpture.”
Yunho grinned despite himself. Jaejoong had been entranced by the fluid metal piece depicting the stylized forms of a couple’s loving. If he’d been rich, he would have offered to buy the statue for the delight it had given the singer. One day, he’d at least hope to have a pendant designed to resemble the curved but jagged forms, their outstretched bodies arched towards the sky from their joining. It would be something they could wear, a seal of their vow held private despite its openly displayed form.
“I’m not sure I can see her without having anger in my heart.” Yunho admitted softly, his arm finding Jae’s waist. The elevator alcove was hidden from the lobby’s view, a private moment where he could cradle his lover for comfort.
“She’s your mother, Yunnie.” Jaejoong whispered. The elevator dinged with its impending arrival and the singer kissed the curve of Yunho’s neck, biting softly with enough sting to remind the leader that he was loved. “Keep your mind open if you want her to.”
His knock on a suite door sounded loud to Yunho’s ears, the wood hard against his hand. It felt stubborn, a grit of sandpaper on his thoughts rubbing raw on the tenderness he felt inside. Jaejoong was a familiar warmth on his back, a touch of home and love. The leader stood for an eternity in that moment, marveling at the confidence and faith he had in his love for the other man, Jae’s gentle touch on his shoulder when his mother called out moving time once more.
She was as he remembered. That was the thought Yunho had when he saw his mother coming towards him. It was strange to have not seen her in the passing months, although he’d spent longer amounts of time separated from his family... phone calls seemed to be able to stretch his memory towards remembering her face or the lily perfume she preferred. He’d half expected her to have aged... a silly thought since very little time had passed but he did.
His mother reached for him, her hands grasping his. Pulled into her arms, Yunho hugged the woman, tucking her slight form under his chin and holding her, just long enough to feel the tears salt his eyes moist. Leaning back, he detached from her embrace, his fingers closing on Jaejoong’s wrist to draw him forward.
“Umma...” Yunho turned from his mother and looked at his lover’s beauty, wondering how the woman would see past the porcelain mask Jae wore. The distant look...that untouchable coldness was firmly in place. None of Jaejoong’s warm shone from its iced façade. He would give her nothing soft to sink into, protecting his soul from the hard thrusts of knifed words.
“Mrs. Jung.” Jaejoong greeted her, rigidly correct in his formal dialect. Her response was muted under a veil of tears that Yunho forced himself not to respond to. He would watch his lover’s face for any pain, focusing on the man who’d brought him love despite the chaos of his soul. Yunho knew he owed Jae at least that much.
“Please sit down.” She motioned towards the table set for tea, sweet rice cakes glistening on a small platter. “I seem to remember that you don’t have a taste for sweets, Jaejoong. Yunnie-ah, he was always a glutton for them.”
“He still does.” Jae gave her a small smile, a chink appearing in the tight armour around his face. He took a cup of tea from her, gladly accepting a wedge of lemon as he sat.
“Yunho, come sit down.” His mother turned, spreading a napkin over her lap and motioning to her son. Yunho took a step forward to join them when his cell phone rang, the incoming chirp of one of the member’s call making him pause.
“Let me see which one of them this is.” Yunho excused himself, turning away from his mother and Jae to give them privacy. “I’ll kill them if they’ve locked themselves out again.”
A corner spot in the foyer afforded him some measure of quiet to answer, the impatience in his voice turning to shock as Yoochun relayed a not-so-chance meeting with his father. Anger soon followed, swallowing Yunho’s calm, a disquiet of betrayal lurking in his thoughts. Thanking Micky, he closed the phone and turned, wondering at his mother’s motives for drawing them to the hotel to meet.
He was calm. Yunho was surprised to find that in his soul. His mother chattered with Jaejoong, the young man politely nodding at a story being told about a dog they once owned and Yunho’s insistence that its beard be shaved off since it was female. As he came near, Jaejoong’s fingers tangled into his, unconsciously strengthening the bond forged between them.
“Umma...did you know that my father is in Seoul?” Yunho remained standing, unwilling yet to bend before his mother. Jae glanced up at him, startled at the news then sneaking a peek at Mrs. Jung’s shocked expression.
“No...” She looked away, finding Jae staring at her. “Trust me, I... had no idea. He doesn’t know I’m here at the hotel.”
“How do I believe you?” Yunho’s voice rose, harder than he intended but the news of Yoochun’s encounter nearly set him on edge. “Did you know that he was going to show Park Yoochun pictures of he and Jaejoong? Or ask Chunnie-ah if Jae whored himself out to both of us?”
“Yunho!” Jae stood, his hand on his lover’s chest, holding Yunho’s calm. His mother gasped, gulping at the language coming from her son’s mouth. “Those are not your mother’s words.”
“No, baby. They weren’t but I want to know if that’s what she thinks.” The leader wrapped his arm around Jae’s waist, moving him slightly aside so he could see his mother. Her ashen face waxed with horror, leeched of nearly all colour save the spots of pink blush she’d carefully applied that morning.
“Yunnie...love.” Jaejoong leaned into his lover, whispering into his ear. “If you enter into a fight with the intent to hurt or dominate, then everyone loses. We both know that. We’ve learned that. Don’t do that to your mother. Give her a chance to explain...or at least tell you that she wasn’t a part of this.”
“When we fight, we always are committed to compromise.” Yunho responded. The love he felt for Jae was a shelter in the storm of his anger, pieced together from the flotsam of the other’s soul. “I can’t see either of them being committed to love me... or to meet me halfway. They’ve both already chosen to shed me like I am nothing more than snakeskin they’ve outgrown. They’ve hurt you...and hurt Yoochun. How many more of us are they going to be allowed to injure before we stay stop?”
“Is Chunnie-ah okay?” Jae sighed at Yunho’s nod.
“He’s more angry for you than anything else.” Yunho replied. “And his hand hurt from hitting my father’s face.”
“Mother...” Yunho’s return to a formal address chilled the woman’s heart. “Tell me you had nothing to do with this.”
“I didn’t.” She whispered, her voice soft and broken. “I had no idea... I knew there were pictures that he thought were...incriminating but I never imagined...”
“We’re done here, Joongie-ah.” Yunho made to leave, stopped by an immovable Jaejoong, the singer holding fast to Yunho’s wrist. “What? I’m not staying here. She knew...”
“She didn’t know about what your father was going to do, Yunnie.” Jae’s eyes pleaded with his lover, wanting nothing more than for Yunho to open his heart to the woman sobbing behind them. “This is your mother, Yunho. It was her voice that sang you your first song. Those are her hands that held yours while you learned how to walk and probably bounced you as you danced for the first time.”
“She’s given you everything that you’ve loved. She’s given me everything that I love.” Jae kissed him, catching the edge of Yunho’s lips then wiped at the streak of tears falling over Yunho’s cheekbone, his fingers damp from his lover’s anguish. “I’m asking you to please, listen to her. Let her have you back...even if it is just for this afternoon.”
“You’re asking a lot of me, Boo.” Yunho touched foreheads with his lover, a gentle familiar brush of skin. “I can’t watch as they hurt you.”
“I love you, very much.” Jaejoong reassured Yunho, cupping his face with steady hands. “But I won’t watch you hurt yourself. You miss her in your life and I love you too much to let you have that hole in your heart where your family should be. I would be a poor partner if I let you walk away from her right now...even if it meant that I would have you all to myself. You deserve better than that from me...and from yourself.”