Time was a wicked tease.
If Time was benevolent, she would have left the awkward, gangly young man alone. Instead, with a wicked glee, she transformed Kim Junsu into one of the most succulent men Yoochun had ever seen. Along with the plate of cheesecake he was carrying, Junsu was a wet dream come to live.
“Can you sit down? Would your boss mind?” Yoochun strained his neck to peer at the counter, wondering which one of the others behind the bar looked the most authoritative.
“The boss won’t mind.” Junsu slid the plate down on the table and moved a chair out. Turning it around, he straddled the seat, crossing his arms on the wooden back. “But I hear he’s an asshole.”
One of the women servers snorted as she passed by Yoochun, rolling her eyes at Junsu’s remark. She took the half-empty container of sugar tubes from the table, replacing it with a full one. Leaning over to whisper into Yoochun’s ear, the woman whispered. “Kim Junsu is mostly a nice guy. He could pay us more but still, we can’t complain much.”
“Ah, so you’re the boss then.” Yoochun grinned, his handsome face closer to Junsu, the small café table barely a barrier between them. Staring into the young man’s pretty brown eyes, Yoochun was struck at just how different Junsu looked. "Couldn't be as much of as asshole as I was in high school."
"No, but you did give me something to strive for." Junsu said, his cheeks blushed with laughter. "Or something not to be."
The goofy look on his face was still there, hovering just beneath Junsu’s beautiful features. No longer gangly, he moved with an unconscious grace, slender motions oozing an simmering sensuality that called for others’ eyes to follow him. Yoochun licked at his mouth, staring at Junsu’s face. The young man’s full mouth promised smiles and long kisses and Yoochun knew Junsu would taste sweeter than the dessert sitting between them.
Where the hell did that come from? Yoochun’s mind gasped.
You love women, he reminded himself. You don’t like men. Not in that way. Not like this. And this guy was the biggest pain in your ass during high school. Yes, those days are over but those kinds of feelings just don’t whisper away no matter how long of a time has passed.
Junsu looked away from Yoochun, his attention drawn to the woman bringing him a cup of steaming latte heavy with whipped cream. The other man stared at the sweep of Junsu’s jaw, then the flat square of his chin before letting his eyes drift up to the man’s mouth. He really needed to stop looking at Junsu’s mouth, Yoochun told himself.
That wasn’t going to be easy, he realized, especially when Junsu dipped his index finger into the dollop of whipped cream and brought the white froth to the dip of his lower lip, sucking his finger clean.
No, not easy at all. Yoochun shook his head, reaching for his own cup. Life was very unfair, he thought, Junsu was supposed to remain the gawky teen, not blossom to a sensually featured, amiable young man. Certainly, not this easy to talk to. Life was definitely not fair.
They spent a while chatting, the minutes wasting away under their talk. Time pressed down on Yoochun, his cell phone chirping to remind him of his impending meetings. Swearing under his breath, the man parted, assuring Junsu that he would return to continue their discussion tomorrow.
And he did. Returning nearly every day that Junsu was working, timing his arrival with the coffee shop’s down time. They argued and laughed, sometimes doing both in between cups of hot coffee or tea, depending on their moods. When Junsu shifted his hours to work a few nights, Yoochun became a regular fixture in the evening crowd, assuming ownership of a pair of overstuffed chairs in a corner, listening to the poets hawking their wares on the small stage or quietly listening to young authors giving readings, politely clapping before discussing the works with Junsu.
“I’ve eaten too much of your cheesecake.” Yoochun complained one evening, patting his flat stomach. “I’m getting fat.”
“I’ve not noticed your ass spreading.” Junsu waited until Yoochun sipped at his coffee before commenting. He held out a napkin for the other man to wipe at the spill coming out of his nose.
“You did that on purpose, Junnie-ah.” He narrowed his eyes, dipping his head down to wipe the coffee off of his face.
“Definitely.” He grinned, a goofy cute smile on his face. “You can play basketball with me tomorrow afternoon. I usually reserve a private indoor court and spend about an hour shooting baskets. We can do a one-on-one if you want.”
That is how Yoochun found himself inside of a small half-court, trying to moisten his mouth after seeing Junsu walk into the enclosed long room, a worn tank top and a pair of casual shorts molded over his lean body. Their struggle for the basketball became a war, both of them driven to compete, and in Yoochun’s case, a means to forget the sweat drops coursing down Junsu’s long throat.
“So does your girlfriend mind that you spend so much time at the shop?” Yoochun asked, setting his feet to make a shot, releasing the ball with a graceful swoop.
Junsu’s reply froze Yoochun in place, the ball slamming into the side of his head when it struck the backboard and bounced off unnoticed. He tumbled back onto the wooden floor, his legs splayed out under him. A thin trickle of blood flowed from a cut on his upper lip, the ceiling bending around the edges.
“Oh God, are you okay?” Junsu crouched at Yoochun’s side, dabbing a small workout towel on the cut.
“Are you serious?” Yoochun gulped.
“What?” Junsu grinned down at his friend. “That I like men? I’ve always liked men so no, I don’t have a girlfriend who minds my spending time at the shop.”
“So all of those bad things I said about you in high school were true.” Yoochun laughed. “Shit.”
“I didn’t mind what you were saying back then.” Junsu admitted, his face nearly brushing against Yoochun’s cheek. “But are you okay now? You hit your head pretty hard.”
The touch and the bond he felt with Junsu shocked Yoochun. The world suddenly righted itself, fixing on a single point, the young man’s sensual mouth and the joy his company gave Yoochun. Everything was now clear to him. And he wasn’t going to let the possibility of a lifetime of joy slip away from you.
“I’m fine.” Yoochun whispered, “In fact, I’ve never been finer.”
His hand lifted, tangling into the hair at the back of Junsu’s head. Drawing the young man down, Yoochun absorbed the weight of Junsu’s body hitting his chest, canting his head and capturing the young man’s mouth.
It was a sweet kiss, tasting of the raspberry blooming tea Junsu sipped between their matches. There was something darker and sweeter beyond, a sensual sinful temptation that Yoochun wanted to drink down until he drowned. Turning over, he took Junsu with him, tangling their bodies together.
“Not going to let you go, Kim Junsu.” Yoochun whispered into the young man’s mouth. “Of course, you’re not going to have a say about it. Just wanted to let you know that.”
“Took a basketball hitting your head to make you see that?” Junsu laughed, nearly giggling and giddy from the kiss. “Remind me to spend the next few weeks hitting you with a bread pan. Who knows what a real concussion will lead to?”