(some jaeho and yoosu along the way)
Section Rating: R
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hot Korean boys. A seduction. An alluring. A temptation. And Min's self-discovery.
Sections: One, Two, Three, Four, Five
Related Fics: So Much Mine and Lavender Bunny. Links go to PDFs. Other related fics can be found at my LJ: wedspawn
The Supra’s headlights cut into the alley’s darkness, its rumbling engine a soft purr mimicking its owner’s voice. Hidden from the street, the car sat idling, the two men inside quiet with their own thoughts. Shifting, Se7en turned in his seat, hooking one leg up over the middle console and stared at the young man sitting next to him.
“Talk to me, Changmin.” There was no teasing in the older man’s voice, just a soft request.
“About what?” Min didn’t know where he could start.
Did he talk about how his stomach churned, tumbling about like the rapids of a river or that the pounding of his heart made his ears ring? Was he going to mention that he could still taste the other man on the flat of his tongue? And was he going to just blurt out to Se7en that he wanted to know what the edge of the other man’s mouth would feel like against his throat? How did someone just say those things?
More importantly, how could he say anything without losing his control over his already trembling body?
“Are you cold?” Se7en asked gently. “You’re shivering.”
Of course, I’m shivering, you idiot; Min’s mind screamed at the older man. Do you not see what you’re doing to me?
“No,” He said instead, a shake of his head denying the shuddering tremors running along his arms and thighs. “I’m fine.”
The skies began to open up, large spatters of rain striking the Supra’s windshield. Far off in the distance, rolling clouds struck the warm air coming off of the water. Streaks of lightning spiderwebbed through the night, fingers of light stroking at the dark until it surrendered its hold over the city. Waves of thunder fell, knocking away the calm tension between them.
Changmin jumped at the first boom as it rattled past them, his eyes wide with shock at the sudden sound. Soon another followed, closer and louder, shaking the windows. Se7en reached for the young man’s hand, about to reassure Min that they were safe but stopped as Changmin leaned forward to watch the lightning eat away at the night, a breathless astonishment at the light show on his innocent, pretty face.
He isn’t afraid; Se7en realized with a tiny smile. I’m sure if I asked him to step outside with me to stand in the rain he would.
God, the sight of Changmin’s body outlined by his rain-soaked t-shirt would make his heart stop.
Which would save time, really, Dong-wook cautioned himself, since the other four would kill me if I returned him to them sick and unable to sing.
“Here, Minku.” Se7en worked his jacket off, sliding the leather coat over Changmin’s shoulders. “Wear this to keep warm.”
Min was about decline but when the warm leather settled over his body, he leaned into it, allowing Se7en to hold the sleeves up so he could slide his arms in. Closing his eyes, the young man inhaled deeply, drawing in the other man’s scent and holding it in the depths of his lungs.
Se7en smelled like five-star anise with a hint of honey, Changmin decided. An erotic and supple fragrance, it blended well with the tea-based cologne the older man wore on his skin. His tongue swelled with the want of Se7en’s taste. The little sip from the other’s finger was much too brief, much too small for Changmin’s desires. The ravenous monster he’d awakened in his belly wanted more. So much more.
The older man’s nimble fingers worked the ends together, zipping the jacket closed over Min’s slender chest. Unable to resist, Se7en let his hand brush against Min’s chin before pulling away, leaving a searing burn in the young man’s tightened nerves.
“Is that better?” Se7en asked.
Changmin’s mind screamed, mewling and twisting around Se7en’s murmur, a feline winding about the man’s body. Swallowing, Min replied flatly. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
“You never call me by my name.”
“What?” Min swallowed, unsure if he could meet the other’s eyes, his face nearly hidden by the jacket’s upturned collar. Se7en surrounded him, nearly too much to bear. He wasn’t certain that his nerves could handle much more of this.
But neither did he want to step out of the car. Of course, Min said to himself, I’m not sure I can stand at the moment. How would it look if I fell flat on my face in the pouring rain?
“I noticed that you don’t call me by my name when we’re together.” The older man wrapped one arm around his upraised leg.
“You call me Minku.” Changmin snorted. “What do you expect me to call you? Nanatsu? Shichi?”
“Either,” Se7en shrugged, folding down the collar of his jacket so he could see the other man’s face. “You studied my name. That’s cute.”
“It’s a part of learning Japanese. Don’t flatter yourself.” Min responded, shoring up his bravery. “Maybe I should call you Josai. That suits you.”
“I’d rather you call me Iro.” Se7en whispered, drawing in close.
The young man pulled him in, a complex blend of adult and youth, just begging to be brought fully over and explored. From the trembling of Min’s body to the wide-eyed innocence in his luminous brown eyes, Se7en knew he wanted to taste everything Changmin hid from the world. His Minku was too much of a delicacy not to be savoured. He would have to take his time and allow Min to set the pace.
Although, Se7en admitted, swallowing at the rawness in his throat, if Min licked his mouth once more, he was just going to let himself go and see where it led.
And damn if the boy didn’t moisten his lips with his tongue, Se7en swore.
Damn it to fucking hell.
Yoochun dashed behind Junsu, his sneakers splashing up waves as they ran through the puddles. The movie ran later than either had expected, more so because they’d tucked themselves into the balcony and failed to notice that it had restarted again until Yoochun looked up from his inspection of Junsu’s swollen mouth and realized that he’d already seen the lead actress kill one of the villain’s lackeys before.
Possibly even twice.
The rain outside was no surprise to the pair. They’d been in Tokyo long enough to appreciate its fluctuating weather but neither was prepared for the deluge that pounded at their hunched over shoulders. With their apartment building a few blocks away, they chose to run for it, often stopping to turn their faces up to the rain and let the cold water pour over their bodies, shivering when it soaked through their thick jackets and onto their too hot skin.
“Aish, it’s like winter.” Yoochun bumped into Junsu as the other man dodging a newspaper stand. “Ah, home! We can be warm again.”
“I left you plenty warm in the theatre.” Grinning, the tenor nudged his lover with an elbow, ducking under the wide awning in front of their building. Shaking off the excess water in his hair, Junsu shed his scarf, wringing it dry.
“I think they would have chased us out eventually.” Yoochun made a face. “I’m not even sure if they ended up killing the bad guy or if he won.”
“It’s a Japanese drama.” Junsu woefully shook his scarf again, dismayed at the amount of water still left in the absorbent fabric. Twisting harder, he said. “They all died. Even the villain. And the dog.”
“No!” Yoochun scoffed, his mouth an open hiss. “The dog lived. The dog always lives.”
“Stand still.” Junsu took off Yoochun’s beanie, shaking it vigorously. “Is this Joongie-ah’s?”
“I don’t know.” Yoochun shrugged. “I’ve lost track. Does it matter?”
“I suppose not. It’ll be his eventually if it’s not now.” The tenor handed the other man his scarf to wring dry, Yoochun’s stronger hands doing a better job at releasing the excess water from the trailing knitted yarn. “Did you see that car parked in the alley?”
“No!” Yoochun peered around the corner then whistled under his breath. “What is that? It’s nice. Looks dangerous. Like one of those racing cars.”
“I saw the lights turn off.” Junsu finally worked free of his jacket. “Yunho would know what it is. You should call him.”
“I’m not calling Yunho and asking him to come down into the rain to look at a car. He’d kill me.”
“He’d appreciate it.” Junsu blew a raspberry noise at his lover.
“Yunnie-ah’s had several hours without anyone in the house but he and Jaejoong.” Yoochun reminded him. “You know Changmin was gone for a long time. He likes spending a long time watching people. And we were gone. We should be lucky if we see the hyungs at all tonight.”
“True.” Junsu made a face, grimacing slightly. “I’m hungry.”
“We should wipe down the kitchen counters before we make anything to eat.” The tenor suggested. “Just in case.”
“That was us. Not them.” Yoochun reminded him, pushing open the lobby door. “And no one would have known if you hadn’t shoved your boxers into the dishwasher.”
“How was I supposed to know everyone was going to come home right then?” Junsu remarked with a sniff. “I was glad I found my sweats.”
“You’re the reason we have to wash everything by hand.” Pressing the elevator button, Yoochun nodded at the security guard at the desk, wiggling his head in an attempt to get a drop of water out of his ear. “Changmin doesn’t trust the dishwasher anymore.”
“I ran it through a cycle with bleach.” Junsu complained, leaning against the far wall. Hooking his hand into Yoochun’s jeans, he pulled the other man into the lift, rubbing at Yoochun’s stomach with the back of his fingers.
“Keep doing that and we’re going to give the guard something to watch on those monitors.” Micky debated stepping back but the warm feeling left in his belly was too delicious to be ignored. Turning his head, Yoochun swallowed hard when Junsu’s cheek fit into the hollow of his collarbone and throat, tucked in tight and leaving very little doubt that the other man was ready to pick up where they left off in the movie theatre.
“You have to push the button.” Yoochun whispered. “I don’t think I can reach.”
“Ah, let me help you.” Pushing forward, Junsu stretched his arm and pressed the button for their floor, sliding his chest and legs against the front of Yoochun’s body. “I think that’s the right button.”
“Yeah,” Yoochun nodded, his voice tight in his throat. “That’s the right button. You’re good at pushing buttons.”
“Kaku botan shishou.” Junsu’s light giggle drowned under Yoochun’s anguished moan.
“Oh. God.” Yoochun scraped at his tongue with his teeth, making a great show of his disgust. “Don’t use that one. It’s horrible.”
“You didn’t like it?” Junsu looked innocent, his fingers delving down past Yoochun’s waistband, finding the soft ridge he was hunting for and ran his fingernail over its edge. “This botan doesn’t mind my kaku.”
“Stop.” Yoochun growled, groping at his undone pants when the button of his jeans popped open from the pressure of Junsu’s wandering hands. “Aish! Su-su!”
“Look, it’s our floor, Yoochun.” Junsu stepped out into the hallway to their apartment, smiling winningly at the elderly couple waiting to enter the lift. Nodding to the older man and woman, Junsu held the door for them, grinning foolishly at his lover’s flushed face. “Are you coming, Chunnie?”
“No.” Micky’s strangled reply made Junsu grin wider. Clutching at his jeans, Yoochun struggled to hide the thickness of his sex behind his clenched fist. “I think I’ll ride in the elevator for a bit. I’ll see you in a while.”
“Of course.” Junsu replied, switching to Japanese. “I’ll keep your bed warm.”
He laughed to himself as he walked down the hall, hearing Yoochun’s sputtering explanation that Junsu’s Japanese was poor and he didn’t know what he was saying. Leaving the other man to apologize, Junsu opened the front door and let himself in.
“I think I speak Japanese fine.” Junsu cocked his head, a jaunty nod at himself in the hall mirror. “Of course, I also should have told him I’ll keep myself warm too.”
Se7en refused to let the taunt of Min’s moistened lips pass by without acting. It was too much of a tease, however innocent of a gesture.
Burying his hands into the silk of the younger man’s hair, Se7en pulled Changmin close, angling his own face and brushed his lips softly against Min’s face. Whispering for the other to trust him, Se7en circled what he wanted, prolonging his agony for just a little while longer.
He first sipped at the dipped hollow above Min’s upper lip, licking at the twin ridges with the tip of his tongue. Min tilted his head back, Se7en’s thumb pads working in small ovals over his jaw.
“Open for me, Minku.” The older man whispered, biting lightly on Changmin’s lower lip. “I want to see what you taste like.”
“No.” Min sighed, his breath hot against Se7en’s mouth. “You’ll just take what you want. And not give me anything back in return.”
“Is that how you think this works, my Minku?” Growling, Se7en bit again, sucking Min’s plump moistness into his mouth. “Do you think that this can only be a one-way thing?”
Leaving Min’s face, Se7en sank his teeth into the softness of Min’s throat, rolling the pale flesh between his bite, pressing harder with little nips. “Let me show you otherwise.”
Changmin couldn’t breathe. His chest moved and his lungs worked to pull in oxygen but he couldn’t catch any air in his mouth or nose. He gasped, muscles in full spasm as Se7en made his way around the column of his neck, taking a circuitous route back to Min’s lips, nibbling at random spots until Min’s vision swam under a sea of black, his heart stuttering with excitement.
Min hated that his hands had a mind of their own, twisting into the other man’s black hair and holding Se7en in place when the other man found a particularly erotic spot. The young man heard his voice, broken and wanting, begging for Se7en to lick right there, to bite right there. He was willing to do anything to keep Se7en close.
Even if it meant losing his mind.
Because Changmin was certain he was well on his way to losing his mind.
He moaned. He knew he moaned. He could hear it. Echoing in the small confines of the car. Definitely that was his voice breaking under the onslaught of pure pleasure rocking his body.
Yes, Changmin’s mind said before it shattered into small glittering pieces, we are lost.
Se7en wanted to fall into the promise of Min’s lips but he took his time, savouring the young man’s surrender.
The older man was fairly certain if he’d cupped his hand into the rainbow-hued river and pulled out just the light, it still would only be a hint of what Changmin tasted like. Everything vaguely shaped like a star rested in the soft curve of the younger man’s lips and in the sweetness of his tongue. Flicking at the edges of Min’s mouth, Se7en explored, feeling the rough ridges of Min’s lower front tooth with the underside of his tongue, wondering what left the minute chip.
He would show Changmin that intimacy was a give and take venture.
Even if it killed them both.
Taking a breath, Se7en finally drew a kiss from Min’s bruised mouth, preparing himself for the electricity he knew deep in his guts would hit him harder than he ever imagined it could.
He’d been a young boy when one of his older female cousins picked a dark red fluted flower from a trailing vine. Curious, Dong-wook approached and asked her what she was doing. Smiling, she’d given him a sly look and plucked one of the yellow stamen and held out its wet end. Tentatively, he licked at the flower’s offering, astonished at the taste of pure unadulterated nectar.
That flower had nothing on the succulence of Changmin’s innocent kiss.
The young man bloomed under Se7en’s hands, Min’s tender urgent mewls enflaming the older man’s lust. With the blood rushing from his head, Se7en moved slowly over Changmin’s mouth, taking delicate sips that turned into longer draughts of pleasure, taking and returning each mouthful of pleasure Min gave him.
Se7en was more than pleased when he was right. He was even more happy that he didn’t have enough wits about him to think much harder than that. The boy just tasted too good to be true. Much too good to kiss and leave at that. He would hate himself the rest of his life if he walked away from the promise of sensuality burgeoning just below the surface of Changmin’s quiet personality. And Se7en wasn’t much on hating himself.
The hardness of Se7en’s body felt right under Changmin’s hands, his knuckles digging into the other man’s chest where he held fistfuls of shirt fabric. Enveloped in the scent of Se7en and leather, Min fell, drifting under the seductive aroma and feel of the other’s mouth, the faint sting of recent bites leaving a burr on his tender throat.
Under the onslaught of the fierce kiss, Changmin discovered the rest of the world had somehow turned to dust. Everything. Lights. Sounds and even the faint remainder of the jasmine tea he’d shared with Se7en crumbled to a tasteless nothing when the older man’s mouth filled his.
Their tongues slid around one another, wrapping into a dance before drawing back. Unable to stay away from one another, the caress returned then deepened, searching for the core of each other’s desire. Min was certain Se7en found his. His body quaked and shook when Se7en’s fingers stroked at the spot right below his navel then ghosted over his shirt to rub at the hardened peaks on his chest.
He about wept when Se7en’s hands dropped and he was left with nothing but a cold rush of air over his heated skin. Panting, Min wasn’t sure if he should thank or kill Se7en for stopping.
“If we don’t stop, you’re going to find out exactly how small this car is.” Se7en panted into Min’s open mouth.
It was hard to pull away. Too damned hard for Se7en’s liking. Even harder was the throbbing length of heat along his thigh and the roar of his blood in his ears. Min’s luscious tang remained in Se7en’s mouth and he was even more reluctant to swallow, not wanting to wash away the honeyed spice. If he breathed through parted lips, Se7en discovered he could taste the young man against the roof of his mouth, a nip of flavour that promised a lot to Se7en’s swollen desire.
“I…” Min gasped, unable to let go of Se7en’s shirt. Leaning his forehead on the other man’s chest, Changmin struggled to regain his composure, not trusting himself to look into the older man’s face.
He knew what he would see there, a wanton reflection of his disheveled hair and desire-darkened eyes. Min didn’t think he could stand that close of a look into the abyss he wanted to fall into. Sometimes it was better to leave his demons behind their masks. Safer anyway, he thought.
“If you don’t leave now, Minku…” Se7en leaned over Min’s body, unlatching the door. “I am telling you, you’re not going to see the outside of my hotel room for about a week. I’m going to want to take a very long time making you hoarse. And it’s going to be in a place big enough to echo your screams, not tight enough to cramp our bodies into a twisted knot.”
“You’re right.” Changmin finally found his voice. He’d left it there somewhere in his throat. Right along with the heady realization of Se7en’s tongue running along the ridges of his palate. “I better go.”
“Call me when you get inside.” Se7en whispered, grabbing at Min’s waistband before he got too far away. “Or better yet, I’ll call you when I get into bed. I want to listen to you before I sleep.”
“Haven’t you heard me enough for one night?” Min was astonished to find his bravado lurking under the shell-shock echo of his desire. Perhaps his mind wasn’t so far gone.
No, he recanted. Se7en’s smile turned him into goo, a sexy guarantee that neither one of them would get much sleep if he had any say about it. His mind was gone. There was little more than sand left in it.
“No, Minku.” Se7en said with a shake of his head. “I want you to tell me what you saw this afternoon while you were watching all those people. I think that’s what I’d like to hear.”
“Those are silly things.” Min frowned, wrapping his arms around his waist. The rain had softened, leaving a smear of water in the air. “Stupid dreaming things. It’s a bad habit of mine.”
“I like your bad habits.” Se7en purred. “They are as much of a part of you as your crinkled smile and uneven pretty eyes. Did you think I just wanted you for your body?”
“Go to bed, Minku.” The older man said, turning on the lights to illuminate Min’s way. “Wait up for me.”
Changmin walked to the curb, watching as the Supra pulled out of the alley and into the street, a short pop of the horn leaving a mental kiss goodnight on Changmin’s smile. Letting out a puff of air in his cheeks, Min reached for the door handle and froze, staring down at his arm.
Still encased in leather and the sweet-honey spice of Se7en’s body, Min realized he’d not given the other man back his jacket. Briefly debating if he should call Se7en back, a whisper in his mind left him with a naughty thought.
He’d call Se7en that night and tell him of his dreams. But not the ones that Se7en wanted to hear. He would be wearing nothing but the Se7en’s too-large leather jacket on his slender, sweaty naked body. And Changmin would make certain the other man knew it.
Min only hoped his nerve and his voice lasted long enough to make the phone call.