Rating: Overall NC-17
Tonight's bibimbap and Jaeho pimped by: ranalore
Summary: 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; Section Six; Section Seven; Section Eight; Section Nine; Section Ten; Section 11
Jubilant shouting filled the dorm apartment, its polished wooden floors amplifying the sounds, bouncing glee down the hall and into the tiny room the group used to vocalize in. Yunho shoved his headphones back, wondering how much louder he could turn the volume on his music player, the distraction of Jaejoong’s laughter seeping past the rising torrent of X’s Trance album.
A small slit of a window at the top of the east wall let in a watery sunlight, more for looks than illumination. The band of rays seemed to follow Yunho around, catching his troubled features as he paced about the room, marking off the square floor in long strides. Two desks took up most of the far wall, chairs tilted sideways in the middle of the room. A couch sat on the far side, a broad based lamp fitting neatly into a nearby corner. More of Changmin’s school books occupied a goodly portion of one desk, spilling onto a side chair in a tumble of portfolios and papers, marked in the young singer’s neat, block-like lettering. Yunho choose to study in the central room because it held the least of Jaejoong’s presence in the house, the band’s lead singer usually practicing in the quiet of a bedroom or even the small confines of one of the bathrooms, listening to the vibrating echo of his dulcet voice on the tiled walls.
Having Jae’s laughter follow Yunho into the tight sanctuary poked at the bubble of his control. It had been three days since Changmin’s whisper threw him askew, his thoughts tumbling around the possibility of Jaejoong living in his life until death finally claimed either one of them. It was a future that Yunho stared at, a misty distant nothingness that seemed only solid when he caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye, a ghosting wish he could never touch...never hold between his cupped hands and drink until he was sated. The foolishness of loving another man was impossible... an abomination of desires Yunho didn’t know how to excise out of his thoughts.
His mouth spent long minutes mocking him, even the touch of the wind on his lips reminding Yunho of the kiss Jaejoong breathed into his soul, marring any peace he might have taken with him through the winter. Now everything that he handled paled in comparison to the softness of the singer’s skin beneath his hands, a satiny rub of heat and seduction beneath a smooth landscape of Jae’s rosy pale leanness. Another burst of laughter pulled at him, his studying lost beneath the revelry in the other room.
Yunho fully intended to walk into the living area and demand that they be quieter. He was studying, he would reason, couldn’t they be more considerate towards the need for silence but as Yunho rounded the corner, the singer was brought up short by a barrage of sound and images striking him full in the face.
Yoochun’s arms flung up over his head, a windmill of action, his head pulled back in victory. His tall body convulsed in an offbeat, uncoordinated dance, his feet dimpling the couch cushions as he bounced up and down around a laughing Jaejoong. Crowing loudly, eradicating any hope of Jae’s soft giggles being heard, Micky declared himself the ultimate racing champion, a wireless black controller gripped in his hand, held aloft as a de facto. The wide screen television flashed with a dizzying array of colours, a blinking message proclaiming Yoochun’s car first across the finish line.
“You cheated!” Jaejoong’s laugh had become breathless, giddy in his delight. The silvery sound of his voice, imbued with happiness, splashed nourishing drops on the parched wasteland of Yunho’s heart... a favourite song he’d only just remembered the words to.
“I did not cheat!” Yoochun stopped bouncing, grinning foolishly down at his dearest friend. “You are slow. Your reflexes are waning in your ancient years. Soon we’ll have to be helping you get up and down on stage, old women calling you hyung and making room for your walker when you go past.”
“Ah, you!” Jaejoong pushed at Yoochun’s leg, buckling the other’s knee in a playful shove. “I let you win. I felt sorry for you... especially after all the times you crashed into the wall and scraped up your car. It was pity! That is why you won!”
Yoochun growled, mockingly playful and flung himself down on the lean singer, the controller flying from his hand. His long fingers rounded down Jaejoong’s chest, finding the ticklish spot beneath his ribs. Screaming in protest, the ebony-eyed singer twisted to try to get away, his hips trapped in the vise of Yoochun’s strong legs. The smile on Jae’s face widened, his eyes tearing with mirth with his attempts to dislodge the heavier young man. Another gleeful shout of victory, this time over wrestling a squirming Jaejoong to the flat of the couch, rankled Yunho’s guts, the sight of Yoochun straddling Jaejoong too erotic for his taste.
Jaejoong’s hips moved sensually, slowing when the singer sought to gain purchase on the floor with one foot, hoping for some leverage. Yoochun leaned forward, grabbing at Jae’s wrists to hold them down firm on the couch’s overstuffed arm, his mouth open and gnawing on the spot his fingers recently tickled mercilessly. Gasping with the loss of his breath, Jae screamed his surrender, not able to even move the other’s weight from his chest. Yoochun refused to acknowledge the other’s acquiescence, taking a few more bites into Jaejoong’s t-shirt before pushing himself up.
Yoochun stood up over his fallen opponent, renewing his bouncing with a blissful yell, his feet skimming Jae’s waist. Jae’s oversized shirt slithered up his sleek body, a swath of burnished sinew. The dark rose of one nipple winked at Yunho, flashing with the diamond-chipped ends of a barbell piercing. His mouth dried, the sight of Jae’s half-dressed body leaving behind an unwanted echo behind Yunho’s veiled eyes.
The leader shut his eyes against the rage in his belly, his legs unwilling to carry him across the living room floor so his fists could pummel the taste of Jaejoong from Micky’s mouth. It took every bit of effort he had in him to turn on his heels and head back to the small room where he left his sanity.
“You are mean.” Jaejoong accused Micky, futilely kicking at the other singer’s shin with the bottom of his foot. “If you were a graceful winner, you would express remorse for having shamed your elders.”
“Ah, now you look for pity for your age!” Yoochun gasped, overexerted from his jumping. Sliding down to sit next to his friend, he inhaled large mouthfuls of air, catching his breath slowly. Jaejoong’s legs were captured under Micky’s hips, the lean vocalist comfortably leaning back and grinning back at Yoochun’s exuberant expression. “This was fun. It’s nice to spend time with you and hear you laugh. It’s been too long since I’ve heard you laugh like that.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to laugh.” Jaejoong admitted, trying to loosen his toes enough to pinch at the back of Yoochun’s thighs. “You’re heavy. I can’t feel my feet.”
“You only say that because you have the toes of a monkey and want to leave bruises on my beautiful legs.” Yoochun accused good-humoredly. Rolling up, he gave Jae enough room to pull free, grabbing at the singer’s ankle when he tried to retaliate with a pinch. “See? You are still a graceless loser!”
“Hah!” Jaejoong snorted back, a final sigh before grabbing at the game console. “Do you want to play again or are you going to meet Junsu at the mall soon?”
“Ah, I nearly forgot. Do you want to come with us, Joongie-ah?” Micky searched for his shoes, pulling one sneaker up and unlacing the ties so he could slip his foot in. “Changmin will be gone until tomorrow. His mother came to visit and he’s going to stay in the hotel with her. I imagine he will come back to us more spoiled than when he left.”
“No, I’m fine.” Jaejoong shook his head, casting a glance back towards the hall. Yunho spent much of the past few weeks trying to catch up with neglected schoolwork, something he himself might consider doing at some point. Shrugging off the thought, Jae tugged at his shirt, picking at the dampness along his ribs. “I’ll probably cook something for dinner and maybe practice. It’s better now that my leg’s healed up. I should really master that second bit of the dance routine now that I can bend back far enough.”
“Just don’t overdo it.” Yoochun warned, his mood muddied with worry. “And if you want to join us later...”
“I’ll be fine.” Jaejoong’s hand rubbed against the breadth of Yoochun’s shoulder, his face open and wide. In the subdued light of the living room’s lamps, the singer glistened, a gloaming coy feyness to his features. “I promise. Don’t worry about me. You and Junsu go have fun. It’s been days since you’ve gone out with him. And I don’t think I could stand to be around crowds right now. They press in so tightly sometimes, I can’t breathe.”
“They just want to get close to your beauty. Junsu and I will be thankful we won’t have to fight anyone off of you.” Yoochun wrinkled his nose and laughed. “It will lift Junsu’s ego to be the one that the girls pay attention to. Far better for you to stay home.”
“I’ll tell him you said that.” Jaejoong teased. “If you stop by the bakery before it closes, can you bring me back moon cakes?”
“Of course, Joongie-ah.” Yoochun assented. “I would be glad to bring you the moon but you will have to settle for just a cake.”
“A cake is fine, oh foolish child.” Jae tilted his chin and sniffed, impersonating an imperious old teacher, arrogant in his superiority. A glimmering taunt reminded him of a dark-eyed angel nesting in the outreaches of his soul. “Yunho likes honey cakes. If they have some, be sure to grab a few for him.”
“You still think of him.” Yoochun’s manner waxed serious, the mirth of their laughter spilling into the corners of his soulful eyes. “That’s nice.”
“I...” The singer stopped speaking, thinking of what to say as he gathered up the video game components. Calmly, he continued as if he hadn’t been lost in his own thoughts. “Why wouldn’t I think of him? He is our leader and part of the group.”
“No reason.” Yoochun left Jae his pride, bending over and kissing the slighter man’s forehead before heading to the front door. “Don’t stay up. I think Junsu and I will go to the movies and maybe go see some dancing later.”
“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Jaejoong called out as Micky closed the door behind him. “I don’t have money to bribe the dogcatchers to let you out of jail!”
The kitchen provided a small amount of solace for Jaejoong, the pleasure of gathering raw materials and preparing a meal soothing to his mind. With the task of balancing flavours foremost in his thoughts, he could forget about the troubles on his soul, his world shrunk down to the square of a wooden chopping block and freshly washed vegetables. Rice steamed in the cooker, a block of soft dubu draining on a paper towel over a low-curved bowl. He’d been craving bibimbap for days, waiting until the market across the street got fresh vegetables from the countryside and with the arrival of thick stalked green onions, Jaejoong decided today would be the day he would satisfy his craving.
The singer felt Yunho against the air, far sooner than he saw the shadow stretch over the kitchen counter. Jaejoong focused hard on the bamboo shoots under his knife, slicing julienne lengths of the beige vegetable, a few shreds catching on the flashing steel surface. Yunho’s vanilla shampoo filled Jae’s senses, overpowering the open jar of gochujang sitting on the counter.
“I’m making bibimbap, if you want some.” An olive branch of sorts, Jaejoong’s soft offering of food. Running his fingers over the flat of the blade, Jae scraped off the cut shoots and moved on to the sprigs of gai lan, rough chopping the green vegetables. “I’m not putting any mushrooms in it.”
“Thank you.” Yunho waited until Jaejoong placed the knife on the sideboard, reaching for the dubu square before coming closer, watching the way the light played over the singer’s exposed neck.
Black hair, a jet so deep it absorbed the light, fringed down towards Jae’s collarbone, a swath of skin visible beneath the cleft of the parted ebony silk. Yunho swallowed and wondered at the taste of the young man standing a mere few inches in front of him. Would the tender, down-brushed flesh have the same erotic spiciness of the singer’s mouth, or was the sweetness hidden there a powder dusting of sugared skin.
“I know you don’t like them.” Jaejoong’s fingers shook, the cheesecloth wrapped under the dubu trembling in his hands. Yunho stepped closer, an unbidden desire pushing him towards Jaejoong.
The leader couldn’t explain the why of his curiosity nor the want to wipe Yoochun’s touch from the lithe singer’s skin. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore, his world snarled into knotted threads of unwanted desires.
Jae’s throat convulsed, a nervous reaction to the young man coming ever so much closer into the circle of his awareness. The kitchen broiled in the heat of Yunho’s presence, a torrent of need barely sublimated by Jaejoong’s stubbornness. He needed some space…any amount of distance to stop the heady drunkenness clouding his judgment. Yunho’s body was potent across the coldness of a dance studio. In the tight confines of the narrow kitchen, it would be lethally addictive.
The singer shook the excess water from his hands, the milky fluid from the dubu soaking into the paper towel wadded up around his fingers. “It will be a bit before it’s ready. I can call you when it’s done if you have something you want to do.”
Something he wanted to do ― Yunho’s mind screamed at the absurdity of Jaejoong’s words. Yunho’s brain crept with ideas, making deals with his control. Perhaps just a taste would satisfy the urges his body seemed to thicken with at the sight of the slender singer. He’d barely had the pleasures of a woman’s body beneath him, a coupling or two made hastily in the confines of a dark room where the spill of his seed seemed urgent rather than gratifying. Yunho couldn’t even imagine how to love another man, but here he stood, wondering if he remembered the taste of Jaejoong’s mouth or if his mind was toying with the sweetness he’d begun to crave.
Yunho’s will stepped in, a small quiet thing finally disgusted with the wavering of Yunho’s mind. His hands moved of their own volition, finding the dip of bone where Jae’s shoulder blades jutted out, the wings of a fallen angel hidden from the world behind a curtain of worn cotton. Yunho’s strong thumbs ran up along the strong lines, tracing the path of Jae’s tightly muscled back until he crested over the singer’s shoulders, his fingers brushing at Jae’s neck where the collar gaped away from his body.
The group’s leader told himself to stop... that touching the young singer would be an insanity that he would never be able to cure but the images of Yoochun’s mouth on Jae’s side, the shirt now under his own hands, wet with Micky’s spit. The sight of the large damp spot marking Jaejoong as Yoochun’s, a primal symbol that rankled Yunho’s rage. He wanted to tear the shirt from Jaejoong’s body, letting the singer stand naked before him until … Yunho pushed away those thoughts, his mind clouding at the ravenous possibilities his sins cast into his thoughts.
The lean singer hissed, closing his eyes at the simple pleasure of feeling Yunho’s hands explore his bared flesh, his throat closing around the protests rolling up from his anguish. He knew he should push the other man away but a seductive languor filled him, slowly chewing apart his resolve. A single half step would bring him fully up against Yunho’s strong body. He knew he fit right into the curve of the leader’s hips, something in his gut told him that no one else would ever mold to Yunho’s body like he could. The tiled floor seemed a widening chasm, nearly impossible to cross, Jae stymied with the fear of seeing a cold rejection in the other man’s eyes if he turned around.
Yunho’s hands on his shoulder made that decision for him, his body being gently led to the side until Jaejoong found his eyes filled with the handsome face of the one who could hurt him like no other. Yunho’s tongue darted out, moistening the leader’s lips, a dryness in his throat that seemed to spread though his entire body.
Does he touch you like this? Does Yoochun make you pant like you’re panting now?; the leader thought to himself, his words tight against the roof of his mouth. Yunho’s fingers found the barbell under Jaejoong’s shirt, the nipple pulsing beneath the leader’s insistent touch.
“Don’t…” Jaejoong wanted to move away, every nerve in his being told him to separate himself from the danger of Yunho’s touch but the brutality of his desires assaulted him, the longing for a effortless stroke of Yunho’s palm over him outweighed any common sense that he might have had within him. “I need you to stop this.”
The unshed tears of his hindered suffering shimmered along the curve of Jae’s lashes, a glittered dew born of a heartache he’d locked away when he left his desire in Yunho’s hands. Those same hands now touched him anew, discovering the dip of bone above his chest then the strong column of his throat, stroking at the softness under Jae’s chin.
The press of Yunho’s thumbs moved up, his palms cupping Jaejoong’s delicate face. “Answer me, Joongie-ah. Why do you tremble when I just touch you?”
“I’ve wondered if I do this to you. Like you do to me.” Yunho’s eyes narrowed, a simmering disgust at his weakness in his gaze. “I hate that you make me…want you. I hate that every time I close my eyes, you’re there and I just want to dig my hands into you until your bones break beneath me. And when I think like that, I can’t stop wanting… something from you.”
“You told Changmin that a single moment should be enough. And maybe you’re right in that.” Yunho dipped his head down, licking at the fullness of the singer’s parted mouth. Just a brush of his tongue, hopefully enough to rid himself of the need for the young man that haunted his waking dreams. “Get out of my thoughts, Jaejoong. I need you out of my head.”
“Then leave me alone.” Jaejoong put his hands on Yunho’s chest, pushing him away. The space between them widened, a canyon of hurt bridged by a few words of corporeal longing. “I can’t do this…I can’t have you come to me wanting …and then turning away from me again. You’ll undo me. You’ll break me. I’ve come too far to let you shatter what is left of who I am, Yunho.”
“I want to leave you alone.” Yunho’s fists slammed into the counter, rattling the chopping board. His arms straddled Jaejoong, trapping him against the flat edging. “Do you think I want this? You’re like a disease that is creeping under my skin and no matter how much I try to dig it out, I can’t get rid of the sores that you leave behind.”
“I don’t know how to love another man. I don’t want to learn how.” Yunho snarled, his mouth nearly brushing Jaejoong’s lips. Shock fought a path through Jae’s beauty, his face a veil of trembling control. He wanted nothing like he wanted the mouth just within a finger-breadth from his own, the tang of the other man’s tongue a fond memory of his dreams. “I think I just need to work you out of my system, Jaejoong. Then I’ll be able to walk away and have my life back. I need that.”
“You can’t have that. Not from me.” Jaejoong bit back at the trembling in his lower lip, the coppery stain of his own blood in the back of his throat. “I won’t be something that you use to wipe your desires with, Yunho. I am worth more than that. Even if you don’t think so, I know am worth more than that.”