Something Small. tumi... your popsicle
A drop of grape juice trailed down Yoochun’s thumb. The summer heat scorched Tokyo, leaving a humid, sticky mess in its wake. Sometime during the middle of the afternoon, the air conditioner rattled its last breath, wasting away under the sun’s unrelenting assault.
He’d already been to the pool but the others were more interested in splashing one another, not letting him float on the chilled waters in quiet solitude. Coming into the apartment, he left a trail of wet footprints on the floor. The moist marks made him wince. He’d just cleaned the living room. Now he’d tracked a soaking trail over the rug and wood.
“Screw it,” Yoochun tapped at the air conditioner again, hoping he could shake some sense into it. Hitting it harder, he was surprised to hear it groan then churn out a blast of freezing cold air. Pumping his fists in the air, the baritone did a little dance, goofily flinging his arms and legs about in celebration of his victory against the evil machine.
He returned to sucking on the grape popsicle that he’d dug out of the freezer, ferreting out the last purple spear among the orange and cherry the others left behind. The wrapper lay folded against the stick, valiantly attempting to soak up the drips. Licking his fingers, Yoochun swallowed the juice and stood in front of the air conditioner’s vents.
The front door opened, a creaking noise lost in the rattling gusts of the machine. Yoochun didn’t hear the footsteps behind him nor his aroused lover’s satisfied moan. Lifting his shirt up over his stomach, the baritone leaned his head back, letting the grape popsicle drip into his open mouth, and enjoying the cold wash over his torso.
“I’ve always liked your shoulders,” Junsu said, running his hot hands over Yoochun’s back.
The young man would have liked to say that he didn’t scream like a little girl but in his heart, he knew that he did. Even more so, he heard the echo of his yelp ring through the apartment. Then it was lost under the rippling sound of Junsu’s barking laughter at is girlish cries.
“You should have heard you!” Junsu bent over, nearly weeping from the shocked look on Yoochun’s face. “God, I wish the others were here.”
“You!” Yoochun growled, stabbing at the air with the remaining length of the popsicle. “God, I hope you laugh until you’re a soprano!”
“Oh,” The other man wiped his eyes, clearing the tears from their corners. “That was just hilarious.”
“Remember that when you’re taking a shower and I flush the toilet,” He growled, stalking off to return to the air conditioner’s blast of air. “When you least expect it, Susu-ah, there will be revenge.”
“Hey, is that a grape one?” Junsu stared at the treat, his mouth open in shock. “I thought Jaejoong ate the last one! And you were going to eat it without sharing?”
“You weren’t here!” Yoochun protested. “What was I supposed to do? Hide it away in our bedroom until you came home? There’d be nothing but a puddle to lick up. It would have looked like our son peed his pants instead of a popsicle.”
“Well, I’m here now,” He replied, pouting. “Share.”
“Come here,” The other motioned Junsu forward, the purple juice laying a sticky path for the tenor’s tongue to trace.
Encircling Yoochun’s wrist, Junsu placed the flat of his tongue on the trail, lapping at the sugary water. A darting dab took away only a drop or two so he followed with another swipe, laving around the other’s strong hand, sucking the juice clean from Yoochun’s skin. Junsu followed the trail up, licking at the paper-wrapped sticks. He slid his lips around Yoochun’s clenched fingers, filling the space under them with a long suckle of his tongue.
The twin storm of Junsu’s mouth and lips worked Yoochun’s control loose and his free hand rose, tangling into the other man’s hair. A guttural slithering sound escaped him, his body reacting to the scent of the man’s sweat and the spiced masculine cologne Junsu preferred.
After a few seconds, Junsu reached the iced spear, sucking at its root then moving up to its blunt tip, Opening his mouth, he worked down the popsicle, sliding it over his tongue and into his throat. Slurping at the warm juice spilling into his mouth, the tenor pulled away, leaning into Yoochun for a kiss.
Their mouths met, tongues warring for a moment, hot on chilled grape. Yoochun culled a piece of ice from his lover’s lips, his tongue dipping against Junsu’s teeth, pulling it into his own mouth. Holding the popsicle between them, they met over its width, chewing down at the tip, their mouths joined over the dripping spear.
“I don’t know what’s sweeter,” The older man murmured, his voice husky with want. “You or the grape ice.”
“Me,” Junsu replied, grinning around the treat, his white teeth nibbling off a piece near Yoochun’s fingers. “How about if you finish that up and I go take a cold shower.”
“Cold?” Yoochun gasped, the press of his body hard against his shorts. “Why cold?”
“Because I’m expecting you to join me,” The coy glance Junsu shot over his shoulder smoldered desire up from Yoochun’s belly. “I’m hoping you can make me drip as much as you did that popsicle you’re holding.”