Rating: Eventually NC-17
Jaeho Pimpage and Beta: ranalore
Summary: Section Six.
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; Section Five
The fog on the shower’s glass door smeared beneath the touch of Jaejoong’s hand, fingers trailing into the mists, leaving runnels of water pooling down onto the tile’s below. A trail of tears lost amid the spray hitting the singer’s face tasted hot on his open mouth, salted anguish on the tip of his tongue. Long streams of liquid moved over Jae’s body, pooling in the recess of his collarbone before spilling over, running down his chest and over the tips of his areole.
Jaejoong’s hands roamed over his stomach, tracing the ridges of his abdomen muscles and dipping over the edge of his hip bones, feeling the press of his own fingers against the soft milky skin stretched taut over his trim waist. His arms ached, the roiling pain throbbing where Yunho’s fingers left their mark, purpled kisses of violence Jae wanted to be licked clean. His ebony eyes shut against the steam, his thoughts drawing back to the feel of Yunho’s hands on his arms, pulling him in closer until their breath grew hotter than the water pounding on his back.
His thoughts wandered to the cut on the leader’s mouth, a small slice into the perfection of a cupid bow lip. Jae recalled his want to lean forward, laving at the spot until it opened up again, his teeth biting down on the tender area until Yunho cried out with the pleasure of Jae’s mouth on him. The singer’s hands grew rougher on his belly, digging fingernails into the curve of his pierced navel, leaving long welting marks until finding the sensitive nub of his ringed nipple. A flash of gold ringing shone under his fingers, twitching as he worked with a seductive roughness at the tender point.
The back of his head was a bit tender, another bruise lost behind a tangle of water-soaked black hair. Hard beneath the singer’s temple, the tile grew warm from Jae’s body heat, the doors steaming up thick from the panting breath escaping his open, gasping mouth. Fingertips found and worried at his nipples, Jae imagining that the hands touching him were larger…harder and felt rough over the soft blush of his skin. Yunho’s hands fascinated him, square tipped and competent. He’d watch the other peel an orange, often digging in under the skin and lifting the rind clean of the meat. Jae gasped, his left hand finding the ridge of his sex swelling beneath the soft curls nesting above his groin.
Sensations flooded his body, leaving him breathless and panting. His tongue licked out, touching the ridge of his own lip and Jae fell into the hope of a kiss, worrying at the fullness with his teeth. The small seductions he’d played at, teasing smiles from women and the furtive long glances at strong faced men didn’t leave Jaejoong prepared for the onslaught of obsession on his senses, the want of Yunho sometimes overwhelming him until all he wanted to do was drive it from his body.
His hand stroked at the heft of his shaft again, rolling the loose skin beneath his palm. The water made it easier, its velvet head laved from the moisture running down Jae’s chest. He blindly reached for a bottle of shampoo, hoping to ease the ache of his sex beneath the roughness of his hand. The vanilla spice of Yunho’s soap filled the shower, a scent that hardened Jae instantly.
Dribbling a thread of white shampoo over his spread fingers, Jae closed his eyes and rested his head back, working at his sex with long strokes. The bottle fell, hitting the tile with a clatter as he released it, his fingers touching on the bruises left by Yunho’s anger. In his mind, the marks became the remnants of a night spent in passion, his lover gripping too hard as his length split Jae apart, reaching down into the depths of Jae’s body until all that was left was a quivering mass of passion and flesh, crying out for release beneath Yunho’s hands and mouth.
There was an ache inside of Jae, something that wanted Yunho’s touch so deep inside of him that there was nothing left of Jaejoong…nothing left of Yunho… only the mingled forms of two young men writhing against one another until their bodies blended into a synchronized dance. Jae knew there was more to sex than just the release of his seed against his open hand but the unknown of it left him gasping with wonder. When being close to Yunho nearly brought him down to his knees, panting with the dizzying explosion of desire, Jaejoong couldn’t imagine how his world would even survive a kiss… the touch of Yunho’s mouth on his own, the tip of a tongue slipping past his lips and sliding over the roof of his mouth.
Harder he stroked, remembering the look on Yunho’s face when he discovered Jae working on a dance move he’d failed at the day before, the flash of pride and…something else… plain on the leader’s face from the reflection in the mirror. It had quickly vanished when Jae stumbled, lost in the sheer pleasure of Yunho’s presence in the wide room.
Striding forward, Yunho spread his hands on the singer’s hips and rolled them into the turn, standing behind him, pressing hard to show him the movement. It had taken every bit of strength in Jae’s body not to lay his head back on the leader’s strong shoulders, digging his hands into Yunho’s thighs until no space remained between them. Yunho had been unaffected by the touch… a long string of pearled moments that left Jae breathless every time he worked that routine over and over in his mind.
With a tortured cry, Jae felt the rising pulse of his body aching along his shaft, threading upward. His stomach clenched, his muscles tight and convulsing beneath the pleasure. His hand became Yunho’s in his mind, Jae wanting the touch of the other more than anything on his skin. The shampoo’s slickness ran hot beneath Jaejoong’s palm, a simulacrum of Yunho’s hard body working into Jae’s pleasures. The world exploded too quickly for Jae, filling the seeping blackness of the night behind his closed eyes with a cascade of sparkling constellations. His legs nearly buckled beneath him, his balance lost under the wavering release of his seed, the pale liquid dashing over his clenched fist.
Gasping, Jaejoong pressed one hand on the shower wall, dragging the steamy water filled with Yunho’s scent deep into his lungs, holding each intake for a split second. His chest ached from the effort of stilling his breath, the vanilla odor burning splashes of Yunho deep into Jae’s core where he cradled each minute shred of the other in his heart. A long moment passed before the shaking stopped, leaving nothing behind but a weakness in Jae’s bones and a languid pleasure in his lean muscles.
Yoochun was waiting for Jae when he walked into his room, a towel wrapped tight over his loins, knotted over one jutting hip bone. The young singer’s rolling gait made Yoochun smile, a feline grace and sensuality riding Jae’s every step. Seeing Micky, Jaejoong stopped sopping the dampness from his hair, his hands stilled on the smaller towel around his head.
“You took long enough in there.” Yoochun said with a smile. He’d taken more than his share of long showers, the bathroom was often the only place any of them had a shred of privacy.
“I stunk.” Jae dug around a pile of clothes looking for clean underwear, tossing things onto his bed until he found what he was looking for.
Sliding the towel free from his body, Jae stepped into the briefs, tugging at the snug fabric until it cupped the curve of his ass and the elastic lay properly at his waist. A mostly clean pair of jeans was found, then an old t-shirt he’d discovered at an American-style store, its ribbed cotton a sensual feel against his skin. The spread wings of the silk-screened phoenix worked over his chest, running under his pectorals and nearly into the seams under his arms. The grey shirt fitted comfortably on Jae’s body, the soft fabric swishing around his waist.
“Sit down.” Yoochun grabbed at a belt loop, tugging the singer down. He’d seen Jae fidgeting, knowing the young man had more than a few things on his mind. “Talk to me.”
“About?” Coy, Jaejoong leaned across the bed, as if to search for a belt or perhaps even a brush, anything to avoid Yoochun’s prying gaze.
Seoul churned outside of the window, a city alive in the afternoon. A car horn honked in the distance, muffled by the closed glass. The sky shone a brilliant white grey, dotted with popcorn clouds promising a colder sheet of snow on the horizon. A street lamp sat sullen beneath a cap of white froth, the snow from last night still clinging to its bowed light fixture. Far off in the distance, the world moved along its circled path, laughter creased smiles readying for a holiday that spun sugar dreams which would melt as quickly as the snow on the wind. Jaejoong followed the flight of a small bird as it hopped from a bare-branched tree to the edge of a power line, its fluffed up body warmed against the chill in the wind.
“Jaejoong-ah…” Micky’s gentle reproach was soft, a reminder that they’d shared nearly every secret each other had, sometimes whispered behind raised hands, eliciting a giggle from the often shy Jaejoong. “I’m the one who Yunho called to help get you back into the house. I was there when you hit him. I wasn’t there when he found you.”
“I don’t think I was there either.” The flush of blood across his cheeks scorched Jae’s conscience. Lies had never come easy to the singer, a blunt honesty often on the tip of his tongue, along with a fierce indiscretion and rough tenderness. Clearing his throat, Jae ducked his head down, his fingers playing with the edge of the towel he’d tossed aside earlier. “I think I might have told Yunho how I felt about him. I don’t know. I don’t remember…and he isn’t… acting any different towards me. Maybe it just doesn’t matter…to him, I mean.”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything to me. He was more concerned about you biting his ear off than anything else. I think if you told him that you …” Micky tried to find the words for how Jae might feel towards the leader of their group but the thought escaped him. The tough, gentle singer never fully expressed what was going on in his head much less his heart and Yoochun had always been too polite to pry, thinking the slightly older boy would eventually tell him everything. “Do you know how you feel about him?”
“No.” A shake of Jae’s head sent a slight shower of drops over Yoochun’s arm. The springs of the mattress gave beneath them as Jae stretched back, allowing himself to fall back into the soft down comforter stretched out over his bed. “I… can’t think about it. It hurts too much.”
Yoochun looked about the room, the mess of three young men edging up into each others’ space in a polite war. Jaejoong’s area was the worst, a disaster that spoke of the young singer’s frenetic personality and energy. A riotous amount of clothing piled up against the wall, the cleanliness of some of the items clearly in question. Stacks of CDs fought for space alongside of small piles of photos, faces captured smiling into a camera held by the pretty singer. His walls were empty of posters, the blankness at odds with the business of Jae’s mind.
Changmin’s area was nearly spotless save for the mounds of books stacked one on top each other in towers of information. His clothes were neatly stacked out of sight, a pair of bunny slippers resting besides his bed, their floppy ears spread over pink noses. Yunho’s space clearly belonged to the insatiable perfectionist that drove his ambition. The music clustered at the end of his desk came mostly from other performers, Yunho’s incessant listening to others’ voices in an attempt to learn yet another vocalization technique to better his own voice. A small jar of Tiger Balm rested on the nightstand near his clock, the chamomile-clove tincture to ease the tiny aches of a muscle stretched too far during a dance routine.
Jae’s fingers roamed over the lines of the comforter, the dampness of his hair soaking into the silken coverlet. Yoochun sighed, turning around to face his friend, leaning most of his weight on one hand and staring down at the enigmatic singer. Bemused, Micky shrugged at the impoliteness of his thoughts and forged on, braving the mercurial Jae’s temper.
“Can I ask you a question?” Yoochun said, watching Jae’s face as the singer debated answering. When Jaejoong gave him a slight nod, he continued. “Have you…ever had…relations with someone before? More than a kiss. You know… fully…”
“Relations?” Jae snorted, nearly laughing at Yoochun’s formality.
“Sex. Fine…” Micky laughed softly. “Have you ever had sex with anyone before?”
“With a girl. Yes.” Jae nodded. “It was… nice… but…”
“There was something missing?” Micky mulled over Jae’s nodding assent. “But not with another… guy.”
“No.” Jae shook his head once, a curt negation. The pleasure he’d shared had been a relief for his body but the emptiness of his soul left ashes on his tongue. The girl was a soft warmth he’d sought when he’d reached what he thought had been love, only to discover she’d lured him close solely to use him, shoring up her self-esteem by a pretty object on her arm. In the end, he’d discovered she regarded him no more important to her heart than a broken watch, something to cast aside when its usefulness had worn thin. “I’ve… wanted…but…this is embarrassing, Yoochun.”
“Humour me. I want to know how you feel about Yunho.”
“I’ve liked other…guys.” Jae admitted softly, trying not to make eye contact with Micky. “And I know that it’s…considered wrong. It was something that… made me different from the others I knew. But, my heart feels… it feels on its own. I don’t tell it to want Yunho. I don’t want to be hurt when he looks at me and then his eyes just slide over me like I’m not even there. And when he touches me, even if by accident, I can’t breathe. Everything in me just stops and then for a second… or even more… my world just becomes him. Even the wind just stops and becomes him.”
“I guess I was trying to see is if you want Yunho to love and have sex with you or if you are just in love with the idea of being in love.” Micky lay down on his side, spooned up against his friend’s lean body. “Don’t give me that look. I know you, Joongie-ah. I know that you want to be loved. More than anything else in the world, you want someone to look at you and feel… everything in your body and heart.”
“I don’t…know how I feel about him.” Jae rubbed at his face, hands spread over his hot cheekbones. “It feels different with Yunho. He makes me…insane. When he comes near me, I just want him to touch me in places that I…I’ve never had anyone reach inside of me before. Even when he’s yelling at me…and he shouts a lot… I just want him to be near…so I can feel him against me. I hate this. I hate how he makes me feel and every single time I say that I’m done with it, I come back around and stand there to take more.”
“And I’m angry. Angry at myself because I hear my own voice and the weakness I feel in my guts.” Jae snarled, fists digging up handfuls of the comforter between his fingers. “He makes me feel like I’ve poured sin onto my soul and all I want to do is lick it clean. That’s how he makes me feel. I don’t know how it makes me feel about him. Other than confused, angry and… gods…want.”
“It sounds like it’s making you sick.” Micky brushed at the faint marks on Jaejoong’s exposed arms with the tips of his fingers. “When he brought you home last night, I got scared that he’d hurt you so much, you’d leave us. Or make Yunho so mad that he would want you to leave.”
“It might still happen, Yoochun.” More tears filled the basin of Jae’s eyes. He refused to feel them, refused to allow them to spill onto his face. “I’m not as good of a dancer as the rest of you and… you can always find someone else to sing the lead parts. All I do is infuriate him and then his anger makes me want to do stupid things. I spend my entire life either running to him or running away from him.”
“Then that definitely is being in love.” Yoochun replied with a sigh. “A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love*.”
“Is that poetry?” Jae peered over his arm, suspicion in his eyes. “You sound like Junsu.”
“I don’t remember who said it but I remember it.” Yoochun poked at Jaejoong’s ribs, a swath of skin exposed from his shirt riding up under his arm. “The point is, that even if you’re in love… there’s often other kinds of emotions there. Probably even more emotions because you’ve never been in love before… or wanted someone like this before.”
“Have you?” Jae cocked his head, looking up at his friend. “Wanted someone like I want Yunho?”
Jaejoong was usually the one holding the other’s hand, rubbing at his shoulders when the absence of Yoochun’s family became too much to bear. They’d each dealt with their loneliness in different ways, buried in music and other past times in the hopes that the holes left in their lives would fade at the edges, long enough to dull the cuts of their heartache. Yoochun was the most sensitive of them, his feelings riding very close to the surface of his thoughts. The singer had wiped more than his share of tears from his friend’s face, coaxing a smile from Yoochun’s sadness with a silly face or a soft, caring word.
“No, not like I’ve watched with you and Yunho.” Micky admitted. “I’ve liked someone but I’ve never… lost myself in them. I fear that you’re doing that with Yunho, losing yourself in him and forgetting that you have something to offer…something of yourself. You bend every thing you do into pleasing him, keeping yourself pushed down because you want to keep him happy but I think that only makes him more… angry.”
“You’re the most honest person I know, Jaejoong and you’re not being honest with him. The face you show him isn’t yours. It’s someone you made from papier-mâché and you’re hoping that he’ll like that person.” Micky stole a glance at Jae’s face. The singer’s eyes were lost in thought, faded into the depths of his heart.
“You can’t expect him to love a construct…someone that isn’t real. Last night when you hit him, that was the most real I’ve seen you be with him." Yoochun rubbed at Jae's belly, trying to ease some of the tension from the young singer's body. "You were angry…even when you were half-unconscious… you were angry because you gave him your heart and he didn’t even look at it. Not even long enough to knock it free from your hands and break on the ground.”
“You’re hurting me. Why are you saying these things?” Jae turned away, nearly pushing off of the bed to get away from Yoochun. Micky’s hands on his shoulder stopped him. “Please, it’s bad enough that his words…”
“Listen to me, Joongie-ah. I’m not saying this to hurt you.” Yoochun pleaded, bending down until his chin rested on the curve of Jae’s arm. “I’m saying this because I think you are in love with someone who can break your heart. And that scares me. If you are going to love someone and hope that he will love you back, you have to show him who you really are. Not pretend to be someone that will make him happy.”
Jae’s voice was very small in his throat, caught on the fear overwhelming him. “What if he doesn’t love me? What if he can’t?”
“Then I’ll be there until you can’t cry anymore.” Micky promised, pulling Jae back and hugging the singer tight against his chest. They lay there, back to stomach while Jae swallowed at the truth in Yoochun’s words. “I promise, Jaejoong. I won’t let you cry alone.”
* William Butler Yeats; The Pity of Love