Title: Tarnished Angels
Pairing: Min/Other (some jaeho and yoosu along the way)
Section Rating: PG-13
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, Six, Se7en, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven (Lemon), Twelve; Thirteen
Related Fics: So Much Mine and Lavender Bunny. Links go to PDFs. Other related fics can be found at my LJ: wedspawn
Changmin poked at the meat he’d marinated all afternoon. He wasn’t sure if the beef was supposed to be the dark brown. He’d never seen bulgogi before Jaejoong cooked it. Looking at the recipe didn’t help. There was no hint about what colour it should be once it was done marinating.
“Soy sauce, sesame seeds, sesame oil.” Min ran down the list, going over the ingredients. “I added the garlic, ginger and the sugar. Green onions. I didn’t add the green onions.”
“When do I add the green onions?” Min stared down at the recipe, as if the piece of paper could answer him.
He’d nearly spilled the plastic container of raw bulgogi in the cab ride over. The driver’s erratic steering flung him about the back seat, nearly tumbling Changmin to the floor. Stumbling from the back, Min nearly kissed the ground when the car finally lurched to a stop, the engine rumbling impatiently while he paid off the mad man who brought him to Se7en’s doorstop.
Now he stood in a sleek, stainless steel and granite kitchen that Jae would moon over and he couldn’t figure out if he should add green onions before or after he cooked the meat.
Leaning on his palms, the young man stared out of a wall of windows, a view of the river below accented by tall buildings just beginning to light up the sky for the night. Looking around at Se7en’s apartment, he took in the clean lines of sleek furniture and wondered if Dong-Wook picked things out himself or if a designer had arranged the nearly zen-style setting for him.
Security didn’t give Min a second glance when he’d come in balancing the container and grocery bags. The liveried guard merely called for the elevator, asking Changmin if he needed any assistance in carrying his food in and nodded curtly when Min declined.
Of course after thirty seconds of trying to get the elevator key to work, Min finally gave in and opened the elevator doors to beg for help. To his credit, one of the men merely strolled over and apologized for the stickiness of the lock and easily turned the access key for Min. Bowing deeply, the guard extended his regrets for the faulty elevator just as the doors closed.
Min was certain the man would hold his stern face for at least a minute before laughing his head off at Min’s ineptitude.
Much like the marinating bulgogi was doing.
He’d already burnt the rice twice. Min glanced guiltily at the blackened bottom sauce pan soaking in the sink.
“Who the hell doesn’t own a rice cooker?” Changmin muttered at the pan. It was clearly to blame for his incompetence.
He’d looked high and low for a rice cooker but found nothing. Obviously, the designer who furnished the apartment forgot one of the most important items in a household. A quick search on the internet told him how to cook rice on a stove but he’d either added not enough water or set the fire too high. Min resigned himself to the first burning but the second incident frustrated him.
Running out of rice, he’d called the desk downstairs on the in-house intercom, hoping for directions to a local store to get a cooker. Salvation came in the form of a little squat white metal appliance with a glass top delivered nearly as soon as he hung up the phone.
Min would have to send the guards a thank you gift. He doubted that they would want a home-cooked meal after knowing he’d scorched his own rice twice.
The salad was easy enough, shredded cabbage, almonds and a rice vinegar dressing. That was supposed to marinate as well. And of course, more minced green onions.
“How long is a salad supposed to marinate?” Min sighed heavily, scanning the list. “At least forty-five minutes. Then add crumbled uncooked ramen noodles. Is this for real? What kind of recipe is this?”
He tossed the greens into a container and poured the dressing over it, then put the lid on it before sliding it into the nearly empty refrigerator. A glance at the clock told him he’d been there nearly two hours and still no sign of Se7en. But then, he thought as he stared at the darkening night sky, if he’s at a shoot, he’s going to be late. There’s no way of knowing when one of those will end. There’s always something coming up.
Taking one last nervous glance at the rice cooker, Changmin walked out of the kitchen, satisfied that at least the rice would turn out. He’d left his laptop and backpack on the coffee table by a wide, comfortable couch set in front of a bank of windows framing in the view of the river.
The living room was dominated by a wall of electronics, ranging from an enormous flat-screen television to mixing equipment, its sliders shiny from Se7en’s fingers working the controls. Debating watching television or playing a video game, but neither appealed to him at that moment. The book he’d borrowed from Jaejoong seemed to be a better choice, a quiet reprieve from the noise surrounding his life. Getting a glass of iced tea from the ice box, Min settled down on the couch, pulling loose cushions around him and fell into the novel.
When Se7en walked into the apartment, the first thing he saw was Changmin sitting against the arm of the red couch he’d asked the designer to place near the corner windows. Damn, Dong-Wook stood in the foyer looking at the lean young man engrossed in his reading. Min’s sweet face and bare feet were possibly the most erotic sights Se7en could have seen after the end of a very long day.
Leaving his keys on the counter, Se7en approached the younger man, gently placing a kiss on Min’s exposed neck. Startled, Changmin looked up, his mouth moist where he dabbed his tongue against the swell of his upper lip. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose, unable to prevent a slight flush from pinking his cheeks.
“Hey, baby.” Leaning against the back of the couch, Se7en rested his chin on his crossed arms and stared into Min’s pretty face. “I’m sorry I’m late. And I just realized I should have called.”
“It’s okay.” Changmin slid his glasses off, laying them on the coffee table. “What time is it?”
“Nearly ten.” Se7en held his hand out for Min, pulling the young man free of the couch for a real kiss. Changmin was wearing the same pair of jeans he’d had on at the signing but now wore one of Se7en’s t-shirts, the larger man’s garment hanging on Min’s slighter form. “God, you look good.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. This is yours.” Min looked down at the borrowed shirt. “I got shoyu on mine. I had to wash it. It’s in the dryer.”
“It’s okay.” Se7en pressed Min up against the pantry door, placing his hands on the younger man’s hips. The sleek wood cabinet bit lightly into Min’s back, his soft moan buried under the press of Se7en’s mouth on his lips.
Changmin wondered when he lost control over his own body, his legs snug in the crux of Se7en’s legs and his hands hooking into the other man’s waistband. Drawing Se7en close seemed to be what his body wanted, despite the rational bits of Min’s brain warning to be more aloof and detached.
Make him come to you; his mind said. Make him work for every kiss he gets from you.
Shut up; another voice reprimanded. Sit back there and shut up.
“You always look so serious.” Se7en murmured after he left Changmin gasping, his mouth open and panting. “It’s nice to see you like this, all flustered and rumpled. Makes me think that this is what I’m going to see when you’re under me. All sweaty and panting and your hair all messy.”
Min wasn’t sure if there was any air left in his lungs. All he could feel was the tingle of his mouth and the ache in his chest. A thread of boldness surfaced in his spirit, a quiet urging for more of Se7ens musky sweetness on his tongue. Reaching up, Min wound his fingers into Se7en’s hair and pulled the older man’s face towards him, sucking hard on the bow of Se7en’s full mouth.
Surprised, the older singer let Min draw him in, parting his mouth for Min’s tongue to explore. They fought a battle at first, each struggling to dominate the angle of the kiss, ravenously consuming what little chill might have existed between their bodies until finally each surrendered to a slow seductive kiss, laving one another’s mouth. Small nibbles of kisses left erotic snippets of sound in the air, lengthening with each caress.
Min’s stomach declared an impasse, a rumbling growl to complain of its emptiness. Embarrassed, Changmin nearly pulled free from Se7en’s embrace, stopped by the other’s strong grip on his waist.
“Don’t go away, Minku.” Se7en sucked hard on Changmin’s lobe, running his tongue on the soft downy skin below Min’s ear. “When did you eat last?”
“I don’t think I did eat today.” Min admitted. “I was too nervous.”
“Nervous?” Se7en quirked his mouth and Changmin wasn’t sure if the man was teasing him or serious.
Teasing, Min decided when Se7en winked at him.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me at your signing.” Min admitted, reluctantly allowing Se7en to step away.
“You were the best thing of my day,” Se7en replied. “Then my manager said that I didn’t have to be anywhere until ten tomorrow and I could leave. When I came home and saw you here, that became the best part of my day. Opening the door and finding you silhouetted against the night sky, wearing those sexy glasses and with the lights finding every inch of beauty on your face, all I could think of was… damn, that’s mine.”
“Yours.” Min cocked his head, regarding the other with a measuring look. Se7en had come to a stop in front of the rice cooker, staring at the white appliance as if someone had left a head on his counter.
“What?” Se7en turned, a perplexed look on his face. “Where did this come from? I’ve been meaning to get one. Did you bring it?”
“The guards downstairs got it for me when I asked them for where I could get some takeout rice since I burnt the first two batches.” Min waved the rice cooker issue away with a flick of his fingers. “Let’s go back to that mine thing you just said.”
“What mine thing?” The older man leaned into the refrigerator, digging for two bottles of beer. Twisting the cap off of one, he handed it to Min, opening the other and taking a long draught.
Changmin set the beer on the counter, wiping at his mouth with the flat of his hand. “You said I was yours.”
“You are mine.” Se7en nodded as if the whole matter had been decided long ago. Finding the bulgogi container, Dong-Wook cracked open the lid and nearly swooned at the meat’s aroma. “Is this beef? Let me give you some money for this. It must have been expensive.”
“Choi!” Changmin pushed at the older man’s shoulder, jostling Se7en into one of the fridge’s wire racks. “Pay attention for a minute. You’re worse than talking to Jaejoong.”
“Ouch,” Se7en winced playfully. “Now you’re just being mean. What are you talking about, Minku?”
“I’m talking about what you just said to me a little bit ago.” Min took the bulgogi container from Se7en’s hands, suddenly not trusting himself to look at the man standing near him. “You said…”
“I know what I said, lover.” Se7en whispered into Min’s ear, standing behind him and wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist, cradling Min against his stomach. “We agreed, yes? No one else while we explore this.”
“Yes,” Min murmured, cracking back the lid of the container. “We did. I guess, I never expected to hear that from you.”
“You should hear that from me all the time then.” Se7en stuck his finger into the marinade, sucking the shoyu mixture off of his fingers. He ignored Min’s warning slap against his wrist, swishing his finger back into the marinade and holding it up against Min’s lips. “Suck this off of me.”
There was a lot of weight in those words, Promises and sin. Min contemplated the moisture on Se7en’s fingers then as the older man held his breath, Min closed his full lips over Se7en’s offering, slowly drawing back while licking away the marinade.
“I want to learn how to do that to you, Dong-Wook.” Changmin knew he’d hit a nerve in Se7en. The other’s sharp intake and then he felt a press of hardness against the cleft of his rear, Se7en’s fingernails scraping a light line across his upper thigh, a tear in his jeans leaving Min’s tender skin open to the other’s touch.
“You have no idea how much I want you to.” Se7en murmured softly into Min’s ear. “And if either one of us had eaten, I would say screw dinner and let’s work on each other. But you’re starving and I’m dead tired.”
“You look tired.” Min agreed, finally seeing the bruised circles under Se7en’s eyes. “I keep you up too late at night. I shouldn’t call.”
“Baby, your voice is sometimes the only thing that helps me sleep.” Se7en admitted, letting Min go to hunt for a griddle to cook the bulgogi on. “The nights we don’t talk, I spend most of my time wondering how you’d feel on the bed next to me. How you’d smell on my sheets. Your calls make me relax.”
“So I put you to sleep?” Min teased, stepping clear of Se7en’s playful punch. Laughing, Min pushed the bulgogi at Se7en, ordering the older man to fry up the meat while he finished the salad. They spent a few minutes, working around one another in the kitchen while Se7en lay the griddle thick with the marinated meat.
“Here.” Min handed Se7en a packet of dry ramen. “You’re stronger. Break this up for me.”
“And this goes in the salad?” Dong-Wook gave Min a skeptical look. “Really?”
“Really.” Min nodded. “I’ve had it before. And Jaejoong made it. I guess I never realized the crunch in it was noodles, not just the almonds. It’s really good. You’ll like it. Even the dressing came out nice.”
“How big should I make the pieces?” Se7en crumbled the noodles while they were still in the package, Min laughing when the cellophane burst along the seams and the ramen spilled onto the counter. “Okay, let’s try that again.”
“Here.” Min handed him a sheet of cling wrap. “Put the noodles in this. It should hold.”
Dinner was eaten from a single large platter set between them, the men sitting with crossed legs on the red couch. A mixed CD of American R&B tunes played softly in the background, the sweet murmur of a woman’s voice wailing of falling in and out of love. The music was a low bass line to Se7en’s spicy burst of laughter as he dared Min to taste the salad first. Holding a pinch of the cabbage between chopsticks, Min held a bite out for Se7en, looking expectantly at the other man’s face when Se7en chewed carefully.
“It’s good.” The older man nodded in approval, holding his beer bottle up in salute for Min’s cooking efforts. “This is all good. You’re a good cook.”
“Bulgogi is easy.” Min replied. “Okay not so easy. I still think I added the green onions in too late. I’m sorry about your saucepan.”
“I’d like to think it gave its life valiantly trying to make your rice.” Se7en reached over and grabbed a piece of peppered cucumber from a dish on the table, feeding the morsel to Min before taking one for himself. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t attached to it. I’m sure I never even touched it before tonight.”
“How horrible. It came into this house and the first time you touch it is when you’re giving it a burial down the trash chute like a dead goldfish.” Min made a face.
“If I’d gotten around to getting a rice cooker, then it wouldn’t have had to die.”
“If I knew how to cook rice in a pan, it would have survived to live another day.” Min replied.
Se7en nearly dropped a piece of meat he’d been trying to remove from their plate, snatching the tidbit with his fingers before it fell on Min’s bare foot. Grinning, he popped it into his mouth, giving Min a quizzical look when he caught the younger man watching him.
“What?” Se7en asked around a mouthful of food. “I caught it.”
“I love your hands.” Min blurted out suddenly, covering his face with his spread fingers. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“My hands love you.” Se7en leaned over the food, stealing a kiss from his friend. “So does my mouth.”
Se7en’s prediction of him falling asleep on Min’s stomach was close to the truth. Min lay against the other man’s stomach, Se7en’s arm looped over his bare abdomen. They’d taken a long time eating, punctuated by periodic yawns from both Se7en and Min as the long day caught up with them. Giving Min a lingering kiss, Se7en suggested they go to bed, hoping for some sleep. Leaving the dishes until the morning, Se7en held Min’s hand while he led the younger man to the bedroom,
Changmin tried not to let his nervousness take him over, but standing in the bathroom while brushing his teeth and finding Se7en behind him, their closeness reflected back at him in the mirror, did nothing to ease his trembling nerves. Se7en merely kissed the rise of Min’s shoulder, padding back out into the bedroom to pull the covers back.
They’d spent nearly two hours talking, Min’s bare chest rubbed warm where Se7en touched him, the older man’s fingers making slow, widening circles over his belly and around his nipples. There was no pressure for more. Both were so satisfied with touching one another gently, exploring naked torsos and taking small kisses from willing mouths.
Se7en fell asleep first, his words slowly become lengthy drawls then finally a murmuring cuddle against Min’s body, sliding his thigh between Changmin’s legs and wrapping his arms about the other’s waist. Nestling into the softness of Min’s hair, Se7en knew he would drift off to sleep but fought the lethargy, unwilling to lose the comfort he found in the other man’s presence.
A soft whisper from Min reassured Se7en that the younger man there in the morning. That and a kiss is what Se7en took with him to his dreams.
When Min’s cell phone rang in the hours near dawn, he reached for it automatically, fumbling for the device and nearly losing it when he struck his hand on the unfamiliar nightstand. So used to answering the phone in the middle of the night, Changmin didn’t think about what to say. His throat already released the words before his body realized that Se7en lay against him and not at the other end of the line.
“Hey, Iro.” Changmin murmured. “Can’t sleep, baby?”
The voice at the other end of the line stopped Min’s heart and he sat up too quickly, nearly dizzy. Se7en turned, feeling the shift of weight on the bed and the older man blinked awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Min’s stomach clenched, only relaxing when Se7en’s hand slipped over his hip, a questioning murmur in his voice after hearing feeling a scared tremble work through his lover’s body.
“We came home and found you weren’t here.” Yunho’s cold anger broke off the ends of his hard words. “Where the fuck are you, Changmin and who the hell is lover?”