I HATE YOOSU
YOU'RE DISGUSTING FOR SUPPORTING IT
JUNSU IS MINE AND MINE ONLY!!!
Ah, so much love in this, no? Well... I thought about it and then said; I should really respond. So, here is my response.
Strong language ahead. Very adult content. Kind of ranty in a way.
YooSu: Rain and Heat
NC-17, Heavy Lemon.
Yoochun liked Seoul when it rained. The soft mist on his face washed away some of the lonely he kept inside. With his family on the other side of the world, and the others tucked into their own homes, he used the rain to hide behind. It gave his face shadows that masked him from prying eyes.
Pinching a cigarette between his lips, he searched his pockets for a lighter, coming up with only with a book of matches advertising Trance. He smiled around the filter, wondering how long it had been in his hoodie pocket or even if he’d been the one to put it there. There was a reason none of the members laid claim to anything they owned. Jaejoong’s gypsy thieving of their clothes and other things made it almost impossible to keep track of who originally bought something.
Flicking a match against the sandpaper strike, he inhaled a lungful of sulfur and smoke. A hint of menthol lingered on his tongue when he exhaled, blowing the smoke out of his wide mouth. It was nearly two in the morning and the respectable side of Seoul was folding up, shuttering doors and windows, preparing to sleep while a few districts over scantily-clad men danced on tables in the hopes of finding rent stuffed in their underwear when the sun rose.
He tossed the cigarette into an urn filled with sand, entering the lobby of the hotel. The elevator ride was short, a high speed car that led him to an empty, dimly-lit room. Or at least it had been when he left it.
Standing near the window was the one thing that Jaejoong would never claim. Could never claim, Yoochun corrected himself, even if Joongie-ah lost all reason and threw Yunho aside, Junsu would always be his.
Junsu’s white dress shirt clung to his body, nearly transparent with water. He shivered, staring at Yoochun in the reflection of the glass. Worn jeans rode low on Junsu’s hips, stained dark in places from splotches of rain. Slivers of tanned skin peeked out from the high cut of the shirt’s sides. It was enough to make Yoochun’s heart to pound, drowning his thoughts with the rush of blood in belly and below.
Chunnie stepped closer, tossing his plastic keycard on the dresser. His jacket slid over the arm of one of the wooden chairs, slithering down to the carpet when gravity took hold of the heavy leather and pulled it to the floor. He crossed over to where Junsu waited for him, their eyes meeting again when the tenor looked up suddenly, tilting his chin, challenging the baritone to take what he saw.
He reached around Junsu’s shoulders, finding the line of tiny white buttons running down the front of the man’s shirt. Pressing his lips on the pulse that beat along Junsu’s throat, Yoochun slid his fingers into the V of the parted fabric and tore the shirt from his lover’s body.
Gasping, Junsu tried to turn and found himself being pushed into the thick glass pane, his wet body slick against Yoochun’s. He twisted, wanting to get his hands on Yoochun’s body but the press of his lover’s chest between his shoulder blades held him fast, the other man’s heavier weight keeping him pinned.
Behind Junsu, Yoochun shed his clothes, kicking off his pants with a fierceness only matched by the fire in his guts. Clad only in his boxers, he stopped short and pulled back, gripping Junsu’s shoulders.
The soft line of Junsu’s spine enticed him, a rain-dewed spread of downy flesh that begged for Yoochun’s kisses. Leaning forward, Yoochun ran his tongue down Junsu’s shoulder, circling a spray of beauty marks that for the most part lay hidden from view.
The speckles of minute chocolate dots along Junsu’s shoulders were Yoochun’s favourite secret, a constellation of stars that only he touched. His tongue flicked over the pair near Junsu’s right shoulder blade, his mouth widening into a smile at the tortured hiss of need from Junsu’s throat. Splaying his hands, he covered the breadth of the jutting blades, his fingers mimicking the angel feathers he believed were tucked under the heaven of Junsu’s skin.
“God, you are so sweet. I can’t believe how beautiful you taste on my tongue,” Yoochun murmured, his breath hot on Junsu’s chilled skin. “Don’t move. Please. Let me just taste you. Please, Susu-ah, let me do this.”
Junsu nodded, silent in his want. His teeth bit into the full pout of his lower lip, moaning softly when Yoochun’s mouth explored his back. He raised his arms, hopelessly clinging to the slick glass. His wet skin smoldered with the rush of heat Yoochun brought to him to. His lover’s fingers touched his belly, stroking at his chilled skin until Junsu nearly purred with the caress. The hands left his stomach too quickly for Junsu’s taste but as Yoochun’s fingers found the button of his jeans, he leaned back into his lover’s body, arching into the other man’s chest.
“Chunnie-ah,” Junsu lost his mind when Yoochun’s teeth bit into his back, a round burst of pleasure and pain that only made his body thicken more. His sex ached, nearly too much to stand. His nerves were tight, tangled in on each other. Suddenly, the air was too hot in his lungs and Junsu flattened his hands on the glass, his panting breaths fogging the window.
His button popped loose under Yoochun’s trembling fingers. His lover’s hand dove into his waistband. The heat was a shock and Junsu jerked back, driving the rise of his ass into Yoochun’s hips. His jeans were down before he could react and then the hot smooth feel of Yoochun’s fingers around his sex melted any reason he had left inside of him.
“Need you, Susu-ah,” Yoochun slid several fingers into his mouth, wetting them with the moisture from his tongue. Tilting Junsu forward, he worked their rigid lengths into the his lover’s passage, scissoring his fingers apart as he kissed and bit down Junsu’s spine. He laved at the dimpled skin at the rise of Junsu’s rear, suckling at the spots until they were red and the other man was nearly weeping for Yoochun’s sex. “Want you.”
It was going to be rough. Junsu knew that and wanted it. He begged, pushing back when he felt the tip of Yoochun’s sex prod at his opening. They’d only been apart a week or so and the time just stretched off into forever, heartbreakingly so when he’d finally felt Yoochun’s calloused hands on his body.
The fingers that he so loved were now in him, the same fingers that traveled over piano keys and wrote words of longing. There were songs and teardrops in every breath that escaped Yoochun’s chest, laden with romance and the possibilities of forever. Those hands held him, softly when he needed it and roughly when he demanded it. Yoochun’s hands and mouth touching him made him shiver, even when the baritone was doing something simple like trace a heart over Junsu’s palm. The other man’s touch held promises, of heat and longing. Of love and satiation.
What was I thinking back then, Junsu asked himself when Yoochun thrust his length inside of him. How could I even think I could walk away from this? Away from him.
“Never leaving you,” Junsu’s hands encircled Yoochun’s wrists, holding the other man’s arms against him. He leaned his chest against the glass, leaving himself open for Yoochun’s pleasure. “Harder, Chunnie-ah, harder.”
Yoochun pushed up, slamming deeper and harder with each of Junsu’s grunting pleas. He lost himself in the pleasure of his lover’s body, twisting to reach the sweet spot buried inside of Junsu’s core, hitting it over and over. Sliding one hand down, Yoochun ran his nails over the head of Junsu’s sex, rubbing at the wetness that wept from its pouting mouth. He parted the slit, rubbing at the sensitive nerves along the blood-rigid shafthead.
The crushed velvet of Junsu’s silken hair rubbed along the mons of Yoochun’s palm. He took his time, stroking at his lover’s sex as he pounded hard into Junsu’s heat, slowing down when the tenor’s barely contained screams of delight pitched high. He knew his lover, knew every inch of Junsu’s body and where to touch to make the other man quiver.
A rush of adrenaline rode through Yoochun’s body and it traveled into Junsu, seemingly carried by the intensity of the baritone’s hardness plundering Junsu’s warmth. His sex shuddered and Yoochun bit the inside of his cheek then sank his teeth into Junsu’s back, trying to hold off long enough to bring his lover to climax before him. Fisting Junsu’s sex, Yoochun worked back and forth, then quickened his grip around the head when he heard Junsu’s throaty groan.
The splash of seed on Yoochun’s hand was nearly as hot as Junsu’s body around his sex. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking off the liquid. The musky taste pushed him over the edge and he lost control of his body, filling Junsu with spurts of his own. Gripping Junsu’s hips, Yoochun held the other man still as he hammered into him, taking long thrusts and hitting the nerves tucked inside of his lover.
Gasping, Junsu collapsed, held up against the steam-frosted glass by the press of his lover’s body. His breath no longer ghosted mist over the window, the pane fogged up from their lovemaking. Clenching down, he milked Yoochun’s sex until it softened and mewled when the baritone pulled free. The emptiness left inside of him ached and he wanted to be filled but knew that the time they had was stolen at best.
“Use my shirt,” Yoochun kissed Junsu, a gentle loving caress between them. He slid his shirt over his lover’s shoulders, helping Junsu button it close, their fingers tangling. They touched temples, laughing softly and rubbing their bodies together.
The clock on the nightstand glowed at them, ticking away minutes that Junsu didn’t have. Sighing, he finished dressing. When he was done, he slid his hand over Yoochun’s bare chest, sniffing at their mingled scents on his lover’s skin.
“Did you drive? Do you want me to call a cab for you?” Yoochun asked, his heart breaking as Junsu laced up his sneakers.
“No, I’m okay. I drove hyung's car,” He said, cocking his head at Yoochun. He studied his lover’s face, seeing the tears that threatened to spill from Yoochun’s smoky brown eyes. “Don’t cry, Chunnie. I can’t stand it when you cry. Come back with me.”
“We can’t, Susu-ah. Aish, so disrespectful to your family,” Yoochun tsked, finding his boxer and tugging them up over his slender hips. The elastic bit softly into his belly and he smiled, realizing it felt like the rub of Junsu’s teeth over his skin. “Your grandmother is there, remember? And, we’re loud. I don’t want to embarrass your family.”
“You will never be an embarrassment to my family. They love you. My mother is debating throwing me out nad keeping you as her son. She says you pay more attention to her than I do. Luckily, I am still my father’s favourite or I’d be out of luck.” Junsu kissed the edge of his lover’s smiling mouth. His back ached, twinges from the bite marks Yoochun left on him. His shoulder blades promised to be feathered with bruises, purpled kisses that he would be able to feel for days on end. “You need to bathe,”
“No,” Yoochun said as he pulled away from his lover’s touch, regretfully rubbing a kiss over Junsu’s fingers before taking himself out of reach.
“Why not? I made you stinky.” Junsu wrinkled his nose. It was hard to keep his hands off of Yoochun and he sighed, resigning himself to driving back to his parents’ home before his grandmother woke to make an early breakfast.
Yoochun waited until Junsu was at the door, the car keys jingling in his hand. Walking up behind his lover, he brushed his lips against the back of Junsu’s head, inhaling the sweetness of the other man’s shampoo and the spice of their love on his body.
“Because I want you to be in my bed with me, holding me while I sleep.” Yoochun’s tears finally fell, liquid diamond drops that sparkled in Junsu’s honey-silk hair. His sobs were muted, achingly harsh. Junsu bit his own anguish back, trying not to feel the bite of pain along the edges of his eyes. “I won’t wash you from me, Susu-ah. Until I see you again, it is all I’m going to have of you.”
“You always have me, Chunnie,” Junsu didn’t trust himself to turn around. If he saw the pureness of Yoochun’s soul in the other man’s eyes he knew he’d be lost. There would be no explanation he could give to his grandmother or the other more traditionally minded relatives that were living in his home while he was in Korea. “I love you, Chunnie-ah. I hate us being apart.”
“I do too, Susu.” Yoochun’s amber-smooth voice made Junsu shiver. “Go home and dream of me. Please?”
“You’re all I’m going to think of,” Junsu replied, opening the door. He forced himself to step out of the hotel room, not turning back to look at Yoochun standing there. He would break. He knew it. Yoochun knew it. The walk down the carpeted hallway was long, each step seeming like a mile away from the man who made his soul breathe. He’d just pressed the call button to the elevator when he heard Yoochun’s soft reply, a barely voiced whisper that he shouldn’t have been able to hear, considering the distance between them and the pounding of his heart in his chest.
“You’re all I ever think of, baby. Every single beat of my heart is for you. Every single one.”
The elevator came, its obedient doors opening with a swoosh then it waited for its passenger to board. Junsu stood, taut and hurting in the stillness of the hallway. He turned then, listening to his heart, the silence of the hallway was broken by the soft click of a door closing behind him and the empty elevator closed its doors, continuing along its way.