Rating: Eventually NC-17
Jaeho Pimpage and Beta: ranalore
Summary: Section Five.
The beginning of a shifting relationship. Hot Korean boys. Sex. Dancing and some angry words. Not necessarily in that order. Not necessarily in each section.
Section One; Section Two; Section Three; Section Four
Buttery rays crept through the room’s thick beige curtains, running a thread of golden light over Jaejoong’s soft mouth. He turned away from the sparkling prod, burrowing his face into the soft pillow he hugged to his chest, trying to bring back the fleeting sleep he’d wanted so desperately to chase. The sun confused him, his dark eyes snapping open. The only time the bedroom he shared got sunlight was in the afternoon, meaning he had slept through the entire day.
Jae nearly toppled off of the bed, his hand reaching out to steady against a wall that wasn’t there. Grabbing at the edge of the mattress, he blinked, shoving his unruly hair from his eyes. Somehow he’d ended up in Junsu’s bed last night, a creeping headache pounding in his temples. Staring down at his hands, the singer hissed at the raw meat of his palms, sheaves of skin pared off and scraped clean. Jae remembered falling after Yunho dragged him outside of Club NB and the shouting...he clearly remembered the shouting.
And then, the memory of his sickness rose up in his throat. Jaejoong rubbed at the flesh under his jaw, trying to ease the gravel-tender ache when he swallowed. Leaning back, Jae flung one arm over his face, wondering how much of his heart he’d poured out to Yunho when he was on his knees emptying out his stomach onto the frozen pavement. A vague feeling of dread remained lurking around the flashes of ache along his temples, a sure sign that his mouth had run away from him again.
He was cold, the room chilled by Yoochun’s habit of leaving the windows wide open to let in the night air...even in the dead of winter. Jae was sure he would one day wake up as an ice cube if he ever had to share a room with Micky, or perhaps have so many blankets on his bed that he wouldn’t be able to turn over in the middle of the night from their weight.
“Good, you’re awake.” Yunho’s soft voice echoed in the small room, a dark rumbling salve over the chill in Jae’s bones. The door was open to the hallway, the other man carrying a tray of covered bowls and a thermos. “You should eat. I brought some food.”
Standing in the frame, Yunho’s body stretched up in a lean, muscular swath, further drying Jae’s mouth. He’d obviously showered, hair steeped black with water and rung dry from a towel. Coming slowly into the room, Yunho approached the singer, his eyes avoiding the pale span of bare chest halfway covered by a thin sheet.
Yoochun’s borrowed jeans hung down low on Jae’s body, the rise of his hip bone clearly visible below the denim waistband. A smattering of golden down circled the young singer’s belly button, curving downward and burying under an undone top rivet. Ridges of black-blue marks marbled Jaejoong’s upper arms, the lengths of Yunho’s fingers etched under the paleness.
Yunho stopped short, his hands cupped over the tray’s handles and stared down at the feral young man sprawled out over the sheets, his lanky frame nearly boneless with a lupine grace. Toshi’s poignant voice drifted from the living room, fading away into the driving beat of Silent Jealousy’s opening. Barely audible above his heavy breathing, Yunho felt the room spin around him, his breath leeched out of his lungs at the sight of a sleep-sensual Jaejoong. Yanking his gaze away from the undone jean button, Yunho nearly stumbled and caught his toe on the bed frame, hissing under his breath at the slight jerking pain.
“I...ah, brought you something to eat. There was some budae jjigae in the freezer. I know you like that so I heated it up.” Yunho finally remembered to breathe, moving forward to set the tray down on the end table between the two beds. “There’s also some tteok from yesterday. That might help your stomach calm down.”
Jaejoong’s steady, hard eyes followed Yunho’s movements, the leader unsettled by the other’s glare. Clearing his throat, Yunho took a sip from a steaming tea cup, testing its warmth. The pungent vapors held the promise of a summer, fresh and green. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his weight shifting Jaejoong closer, Yunho offered the cup to the singer, his hand cradling the ceramic vessel’s ridge. “Here, it should be cool enough to drink now.”
Lean fingers slowly wrapped around the base of the cup, fluid and graceful. For a long moment, they touched, the tea’s searing warmth a chilled frost compared to the taut rigidity of need between the two young men. Assured Jaejoong had control of the tea cup, Yunho removed his hand, rubbing at his palm as the singer sat up, resting his torso against the headboard. Turning the tea cup, Jae placed his mouth on the wet mark left by Yunho’s lips, tilting the vessel slightly to sip at the hot liquid.
Jaejoong’s eyes closed at the pleasure of Yunho’s soft kiss on the glazed porcelain, the slightly moist edge tasting of the other man’s mouth. The singer inhaled the scent of the tea, blending in the spicy, vanilla fragrance of Yunho’s soap. His dreams were filled with that odor, a sweet need curling into his mind and laying its slick affection over his body. In his nightmares, he couldn’t find even the barest whisper of the man sitting next to him, lost in a dark maze of corridors lined with broken mirrors, Jae’s own fractured reflection staring back at him in a laughing horror.
The singer schooled his face into a calm he didn’t feel, telling his body that Yunho was only being kind, and that the closeness of their bodies was an accident. Another small incident that would slowly drive him insane, replaying in his mind like the other times the leader brushed up against him or touched a part of his body that Jaejoong had thought wouldn’t even respond to another’s touch, the skittering soft ripple of his nerves proving otherwise.
Studying Yunho carefully through hooded eyes, Jae remarked on the other young man’s cut lip and bruise-marred jaw. “What happened? To your face, I mean?”
“You happened to my face.” Yunho chuckled lightly, touching at the slight mark.
“I did that?” Jaejoong bowed his head, holding the tea cup in his lap, ashamed at the thought of striking out at the young man who lead them. “I am... sorry. Please... forgive me.”
“You don’t drink well.” Yunho admitted slowly. “I had to call Yoochun to come help me get you back into the apartment. You don’t remember?”
“No.” Jae shook his head, a sheaf of inky hair across his face. Startled by a thought, he jerked his attention upward, staring out at the open door. “Micky... I didn’t hurt him, did I?”
The concern for Yoochun ignited the creeping ache in Yunho’s throat, setting his temper on fire. Cocking his head back, the wounds from the night before plainly visible on his face, he regarded the hungover singer with an assessing eye. Yunho couldn’t place the emotion pushing up behind the anger, an unfamiliar scraping of hurt paved over with a twist of bitterness. Leaning closer, his body edging into Jae’s, he bit back at the words he wanted to fling into the other’s face, trying to dislodge the unwelcome feelings from his heart.
The closeness Jaejoong shared with Yoochun had never bothered him before. Now suddenly, there was nothing that Yunho wanted more than to place his fists on Chun’s face, striking over and over until the bones broke beneath his blows and Yunho could shout at Jae that there was finally pain there... pain that matched his own. Nothing would suit him more than seeing Yoochun’s blood splattered over the white tile in the kitchen, soaking into the sandy grout, so deep that no amount of scrubbing would wash it clean.
His mind rebelled at the thought weaving up from some dark depth of Yunho’s soul. That is our brother, his heart reminded the leader, Yoochun has never done anything to deserve these kinds of thoughts.
Yes, he has... replied Yunho’s soul... Jaejoong’s face filled with worry over Yoochun is more than enough reason to strike him down. That look should not be there. That fear and concern should not be for Yoochun.
“Yunho, answer me.” Jaejoong shook at the other man’s arm. “Did I hit Chunnie too?”
“He’s fine. He and Changmin went to do an interview and then they are going to the movies. Junsu is still with his brother.” Yunho shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the traitorous thoughts that plagued him. “I was the only one you were angry at. I was trying to help you and you hit me.”
“I am sorry for that.” Jaejoong replied, nodding his head in abject apology. Yunho’s ire was back, the closed down look firm on his handsome face. Jae tried to pull up his own emotional defenses, too weary from the night’s excesses and from the see-sawing roller coaster his heart seemed determined to take him on every time he came near the other singer.
“If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t have gone off like that last night.” Yunho heard the words spill from his mouth, unheeded by the warnings his mind were throwing out. For some reason, it appeared as if he had no control over his own speech, finding hurtful little barbs on the edge of his tongue. The pressure in his chest broke, filling his words with a vile bitter flavour, intent on bringing as much anguish to Jae as he felt himself. “You never listen to me. I do everything I can to help you and you throw it back in my face. It’s like you ignore all I tell you and choose to do the exact opposite. Last night... I told you not to leave.”
“You...” Jae bit down on his tongue, tossing the rest of the tea into his mouth. The hot liquid seared, burning the tender layer of his tongue. He’d hoped that it would wash away the harsh words that he felt coming on but the tea did nothing more than wash the taste of Yunho from his throat.
“I am tired of your yelling.” Jaejoong clenched at the cup, feeling the delicate ceramic crack beneath the crush of his palm. “All you do is yell and stomp around. If I left last night, it was to get away from you and your yelling.”
“I yell at you because you don’t listen.” Yunho insisted. “It’s like you don’t hear a single word I say.”
“I don’t hear a word you say?” The slender young man struggled to free his legs from the sheets, the cotton wrapped too tightly around his body to be easily shed. “How can I not hear your words? You stab with your words like a hot knife and you don’t care when you hit my heart. All you do is twist until I cry out and bleed all over your hands. Every time I close my eyes, all I hear is you... telling me that I’m not good enough to be dancing or singing...”
Tossing his hands up in the air, Jaejoong worked at the covers, trying to unwrap himself. Yunho grabbed at the young man’s shoulders, gouging in deep, slamming Jae back into the headboard. Pulling himself in closer, Yunho warily eyed the other’s snapping teeth and hot eyes, long lashes barely blinking as Jae’s anger poured off of him in waves.
“Stop running, Jaejoong.” Yunho’s hands drifted down, covering the marks he’d left on the other the night before. The tenderness of the movement was marred by the flaring pain as Yunho’s grip reignited the discomfort in Jae’s arms. The singer struggled anew, trying to break away from Yunho, kicking futilely at the covers in an attempt to get loose.
The CD switched over to Longing, the main line looping through the apartment, bouncing off the walls until they came to rest in the back bedroom. Jaejoong ducked his head, debating if he could stand smashing his temple against Yunho’s but the throbbing headache he already had probably would worsen, if not send him staggering into the hallway where the other could easily catch up with him.
“Just stop.” Yunho ordered, the command in his voice strong. Another growling snarl from Jae’s ripe mouth grabbed at the words and flung their intent back in Yunho’s face. Stopping to take a deep breath, Yunho spoke again...softer this time in the hopes that Jaejoong would finally hear him. “Please, Joongie. Stop fighting me.”
“I’m not the one fighting you.” Jaejoong bit down on his lip, wondering if he could bit through the softness and lean in, mingling his blood with Yunho’s. “You’re fighting with me. You always start it. You poke and poke until I can’t even breathe without you telling me that I am doing it wrong.”
“I can’t help but notice you breathing.” Yunho’s cheek nearly brushed Jae’s temple, the softness of his skin whisperingly close. The scent of the leader’s body once more flooded Jaejoong’s senses, tearing the fight out of his anger. Turning his head, Jaejoong stared deep into Yunho’s handsome face, seeing the shattered image of his own features looking back at him.
“Yunnie!” Changmin’s head popped around the door frame, his bright smile lighting up his young face. “We’re back. We came home to see how Jaejoong was doing. Yoochun stopped and bought some iced fruit drinks. He said it would be better for Joongie’s stomach than water.”
“Ah, thank you, Min.” Yunho reluctantly pulled away from the closeness of Jae’s body, not wanting to let go of the other’s nearness but the curious look in Changmin’s inquisitive face made him nervous. “I’ll come and bring him one.”
“I need to shower.” Jaejoong clenched his fists into the sheets, willing his body to relax before Min bounced into the room and pulled the covers free from his rigid form. “I’ll join all of you in the living room.”
He ignored Yunho’s beseeching glance, stumbling from the end of the bed and working towards the bathroom. His body seemed reluctant to obey him, legs moving woodenly until he found the handle of the door, turning the knob and forcing it open. Jae heard Yunho calling out to him, something about assistance but the singer wanted no part of anyone else at the moment, especially the one person who seemed to rake open his emotions and leave them bared for the world to see.
Hitching a breath, Jae peeled off Yoochun’s jeans, sniffing as he fought back the angry tears in his eyes. It was unfair that he would be given the chance to have everything that he thought he’d wanted only to discover the cruelty of fate. The dream of being a singer was nothing compared to the longing in his heart at the sight of the band’s leader, a tumultuous storm of emotional upheaval with every waking moment of the day. To have Yunho living and laughing near him was torture, a single drop of acidic pleasure on his heart with every breath he took.
Turning the water on to a steady stream, Jaejoong ducked under the steaming water spray, hands spread out to support his battered body and willed his soul to heal itself of its love for Yunho, leaving him with some peace.