Title: On The Red Couch
Pairing: YunJae (with some YooSu and Min7en)
Chapter Rating: R
Part One: 1, 2, 3, 4, Fiv5e, 6, Se7en, 8, 9, 10, 11
Part Two: 12, 13 (Extremely Mature Content), 14, 15, 16, Comments Regarding Storyline , Se7enteen, 18, 19, 20, 21 (Lemon)
Part Three: 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, Twenty-Se7en (LEMON), 28, 29, 30, 31, 32 (LEMON), 33, 34, 35, 36, Thirty-Se7en, 38, 39, 40 (Final)
Summary: Hot Korean boys. Sex. Dancing and some angry words. Not necessarily in that order. Not necessarily in each section. Final Book in SMM series.
“They’re fighting again, hyung,” Min whispered as he curled himself up into a ball. The patio’s overhang kept the rain at bay but a small waterfall of dirty water fell from its crinkled edge, splashing random drops onto Min’s bare feet. The building’s outer wall was an odd stucco and his t-shirt caught on the uneven surface, pulling up from his waist. He’d been worried about the rain leaking down his collar and onto his back but considering the his heart rate and temperature spiked when he heard Se7en’s voice, a little cold water wouldn’t do any harm.
The rain drops ran over his long toes, swirling around the sparse hair on his foot before trickling down his ankle. If he closed his eyes, Changmin could almost imagine the moisture was Se7en’s tongue. After he’d sucked on an ice cube, his mind grumbled, The water was too cold to be from Se7en’s hot, sexy mouth.
“I can’t even have sexual fantasies without having my craziness correct me,” Min complained then winced, hearing Se7en chuckle. “This is wrong. You shouldn’t laugh at me when I do stupid things.”
“You doing stupid things is what makes you even more sexy, baby. And don’t call me hyung. I already feel like a dirty old man.” Across the phone line, Min could hear Se7en pop open a beer bottle, the ping of the cap hitting a hard surface bouncing past Se7en’s laughter. “Yunho should be happy he has Jaejoong. What’s his problem now?”
“Why does it have to be Yunho with the problem?” Rubbing at his wet ankle, Changmin glanced up at the falling water, peering up at the too bright night sky. “Maybe Jaejoong started it.”
“Jaejoong wouldn’t start something unless Yunho was to blame,” Se7en replied. “Yunho’s the husband. The wife is always right and if he hasn’t figured that out by now, then he’s got no one to blame but himself if Jaejoong finds someone else to make him moan in the middle of the night.”
“Who’s the wife between us then?” Min asked, chewing on his lip. The burn of shyness crept up over his face and he was thankful no one else was around to tease him about the flush. “I wouldn’t mind being right all the time.”
“You and I, little mink,” Se7en growled. “We’re not going to play house like the two of them do. You’re never going to be a wife to me. I don’t need you to fall into some traditional bullshit role that people think a man has to be in just because he loves another man. I intend to treat you like a man…with a man’s needs.”
“Haven’t you…ever thought about it? I mean, about a guy that acts more like a woman?”
“If I wanted a woman, I’d have chased after one. What I want is a long-legged Minku to wrap his body around me and groan when I bite into his neck as I push him apart. I intend to do the same for you.”
The image of being ribboned around Se7en’s strong body chased more blushing red across Min’s cheeks and he turned his head to fan cold air over his face. Swallowing, he tried to bring the talk back on topic but he was stuck with the idea of Se7en’s long fingers stroking at his hip bones. “Why do you call Jaejoong the wife? He’s not… feminine.”
“He’s not but Yunho wants someone who is traditional. Someone who will do what Yunho says.” Se7en replied. “He wants more of a girl. He should have stuck with Heechul instead of falling for Jaejoong. That one is more of a woman than my mother.”
“So you could chase after Jaejoong and forget about me?” Min hated his words as soon as he said them, hearing the green taint of jealousy in his voice. “I’m sorry. That was wrong.”
“No, it’s fair,” Se7en agreed. “You worry about why I find you sexy and you think about the one person you believe to be sensual. Jaejoong is sexy and a lot of trouble. He’s not someone you’d want to keep unless you were in love with him. I don’t know if I could love someone like Jaejoong. I like my men to be confident sexy smart asses not beautiful broken kittens.”
“Oh.” Changmin took the phone away from his ear, resting his forehead against the faceplate. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his nervous stomach and kept his voice as even as he could before answering. “I like …”
“Go on,” Se7en said around a mouthful of beer. “Tell me how you see me.”
“Wicked,” Min answered without thinking. “Sexy. Wicked. And painful.”
“We’ll work on the last one, Minku. I promise you, I will do my best not to cause you any kind of pain. Physical or emotional.”
“I don’t like them fighting.” He sighed, uneasy about what to say. Se7en confused him, keeping his thoughts muddled long after he hung up. “I just wish I had something to tell them to make them see that they love each other and they just hurt one another when they fight.”
“That’s how some people love, baby. I still blame Yunho though.” Se7en admitted. “Jaejoong doesn’t seem like someone to seriously throw sticky rice onto a relationship just for drama’s sake. Yunho should have told your Japan manager that he and Jaejoong were going to share a room. If they can’t hide their relationship from your management, then they should use it as leverage. Tone down the affection if they can live freely in your apartment. I’m surprised Yunho didn’t think of that. He’s an ass but he’s not stupid.”
“He thinks if he causes waves, we’ll be split up,” Min shared. “Told me Yoochun, Junsu and Jaejoong were soloist material where he and I are more support.”
“Do you believe that?” Se7en hissed.
“I don’t know.” He shifted, squinting his eyes so the lights from the surrounding skyscrapers turned bokeh against the shifting night sky. He swallowed, trying to convince himself that the dots of light were fragmented by the squint of his eyes and not a hot splash of tears. “No.”
Changmin didn’t know the words spilling from Se7en’s mouth. It was mostly Japanese and some English. Harsh, molten and angry. He caught a phrase or two but much of it was beyond him.
“Yunho is a fucking asshole,” Se7en said, his voice rough with emotion. The words were blunt, phrased in the coarsest Korean Min knew. “I’m going to kill him for saying that to you.”
“It’s the truth, hyung,” Min replied, trying to find some footing in the slippery conversation. “The three of them are better musicians than Yunho and I. It’s the reality of things. I’ve come to accept that it’s not my name the audience will scream.”
“You’re not listening then,” The other man growled. “And you hide, tucked in behind your two older members like sushi rice in an inari pocket. You should step out of that shadow, Changmin. You’re worth more than what Yunho thinks he is. If he wants to be less than the other three in talent, that’s fine. That’s for him. I’ll be damned to Hell before I let him do that to you.”
Changmin kept silent, listening to Se7en’s words over in his mind before speaking. “You… what you’re saying is what Jaejoong wants from Yunho, isn’t it? That…”
“Passion?” Se7en offered. “Support?”
“I don’t know the word. Faith,” Min whispered. “You don’t know me well but you have faith in me. More faith than Yunho has in Jaejoong, I think. I wish hyung would support each other that way. Jaejoong does. I hear him now. Better than I used to. I can hear his faith in Yunho, more faith than Yunho has in himself.”
“That’s what love is, Minku,” The other man said softly. “Love is when you have a strong enough faith in your lover that you can carry him when he’s hurt or down.”
“I’d want to do that…” Min stumbled, catching himself before he broke open.
“You’d do that for me…or for your boyfriend?” Se7en prodded, the lush swirl of words tingling places Min wanted to ignore for the moment. “No, don’t answer that for me, baby. Not yet. It’s too soon and I think my heart would break if I heard you lie to me.”
Tucking his knees up to his chin, Min cupped his hand over his eyes, blocking the light out. “How do you know it would be a lie?”
“Because if you said yes, you would be lying. I’d know it was a lie because it’s too soon for you to have that much faith in me. Especially since I’ve not yet tasted that sweetness hidden inside of your body.” Se7en chuckled, deep and seductive at Min’s hissing gasp. “And if you said no, that would be a lie because I know you. You’re like Jaejoong in that way. You have a deeper faith in the people you like rather than yourself.”
“You think I like you?” Min tried to scoff at the other man’s prodding but Se7en’s words hit too close to his heart. He was falling fast for a man he desperately needed not to love. It would be physical only, he’d promised himself. Only enough of a relationship to lose his virginity and some of the naïveté he couldn’t seem to shake.
“I think you not only like me, Minku,” Se7en’s words slithered and dipped, lapping at Min’s groin and leaving a hard wetness he didn’t think he could shake off any time soon. “I think you can’t wait for the day when I have you underneath me, so lost in what I’m doing to you that you won’t be able to remember your name. We’ll talk about how much you like me then.”
The rain nearly hid the sound of the front door opening but its telltale snick brought Min’s back up. “Shit, someone came home. It’s probably Jaejoong. If he catches me out here in the rain, he’ll yell at me.”
“Yell back. He’s been walking in it,” Se7en suggested but Min could hear him hide a yawn.
“Go to bed,” Changmin ordered. “It’s late and we both have a full day ahead tomorrow.”
“No, Minku. My day’s going to be empty because I won’t be seeing you,” Se7en said, laughing when Changmin sputtered. “Good night, baby. Think about me as you fall asleep.”
Min whispered a good night and stared at the glowing screen of his cell phone then wrinkled his nose in frustration. “If I think about you as I fall asleep, Dong-Wook, there’s not going to be any sleeping.”
The screen door slid open, and despite knowing someone would come looking for him, Changmin still jumped when Jaejoong stepped out onto the balcony. The rain plastered the older singer’s clothes to his too thin body, the wet fabric clinging to the ridges of Jae’s shoulder blades and collarbone. A silver ring glinted from its place on one of Jae’s toes, its carved moon and stars catching the reflection of the towers’ lights.
“Who are you talking to?” Jaejoong sounded tired, worn down from the day. He smelled of beer and cigarettes, two habits the Japan manager wanted him to break but the singer seemed determined to show any sign of rebellion he could, sometimes coming in late reeking of a nightlife Min worried about. “And why are you out here in the rain?”
“I needed some air,” Min fumbled with his phone, tucking it into his pocket. Reaching for the book he’d left next to him, his fingers closed over something solid and he hefted it up. “I brought something to keep me company.”
“A shoe?” Jae’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re talking to your shoe?”
Changmin nodded, struggling to keep his face neutral. “Of course. What else would I be doing with it?”
“You’re strange, Minnie-ah,” The singer said with a heavy sigh. “Get off the balcony. It’s wet. You’ll get sick.”
“I will soon. It’s nice sitting here and looking at the lights.” Min rested his head back against the patio’s glass divider. “Are you going to sleep?”
“Going to try.”
“Did Kimura-san come back?” Changmin asked Jae.
“No. I think he is staying at one of the hotels tonight. He said something about scouting out a place for a photo shoot. He’ll be in tomorrow probably.” Rubbing his face did nothing to erase the stink from his body or the heavy weight of exhaustion drowning his heart but Jae tried, giving the youngest a weak smile. “Don’t get sick! You’ll fall behind in your Japanese and complain that I’ve cheated because you couldn’t think to learn.”
“Pffts.” Min grumbled as Jae shut the screen door to leave Changmin to his thoughts. “You cheat because you give people those big round puppy dog eyes and they melt across the floor to give you help. I’m surprised you know more Japanese besides Of course, Jaejoong-chan. I’ll do that for you. No, don’t get up. Let me.”
The shower was empty, not surprising at past two in the morning but Jaejoong checked the bathroom carefully before he stripped his clothes off and turned on the water. Working his arm over his head, Jae tried to loosen the knot on his shoulder, turning around to stare at the bruises running across his shoulder blades and down his side. A dark black line intersected the small of his back, angling down to the rise of his ass. A faint swelling remained along the diagonal hematoma, puffing pink in spots where the welting had yet to settle.
Too tired to care about anything but getting clean, Jaejoong forced himself to gulp down a few ibuprofen, holding them against the roof of his mouth with tongue as he stepped into the shower stall. Pursing his lips, he captured some water and swallowed, letting the capsules ride down his throat. Pressing his hands on the tiles, he leaned into the stream, groaning when the pounding water hit his tender skin.
“God, Yunnie-ah,” Jae shut his eyes, his throat tight against the pills he’d taken to ease the ache in his body. “What the hell am I doing?”
He could feel the faint bruises left by fingers on his thigh and when he moved, another span of parallel streaks throbbed on his upper arm. Turning the water down until it cooled, Jae bit his lip and scrubbed the tears from his eyes, washing the salt of his anguish down the drain.
The scent of the vanilla soap brought more tears to Jae’s eyes. They’d shared the fragrant bar between them once, sometimes getting more of the froth on the shower walls than on each other but those times were past them now. Especially since Yunho refused to do more than give him bland, placid looks and rarely reached over to touch even his hand.
“You’re killing me, Yunho,” Jae whispered. “You might as well take a knife and carve my heart out. I can’t live like this. I can’t lie anymore. It was okay when I could have you when no one was looking but now…there’s always someone there. Always someone shoving us apart. Why aren’t you saying something? Why does it look like I’m the problem?”
“Or is this what you needed to get away from me?” Shocked, Jaejoong stared up at his reflection in the foggy mirror, the dark grey contacts he’d put in that morning bleached nearly white from the overhead light. “Maybe this is what you really wanted? Some way of not having to break my heart too much? Was that it? Are you done loving me?”
“God.” Sobbing, Jae crumpled to the floor, curling over his crossed legs as a sharp lightning streak of hurt flowed out from his belly and seared his throat. “It makes sense now. You needed a way out. Why didn’t you… God, Yunnie-ah. God this hurts so much.”
Jaejoong didn’t know how long he sat there, balled up and aching but the chill of the tiled floor eventually crept into his marrow, freezing up his muscles and the throbbing of his injured knee jostled him from his grief. Wiping at his face with a damp towel, he sniffed and rubbed his tear-swollen eyes. His contacts shifted and he swore lightly, pinching them out. Cradling the grey rounds, he tried standing and fought back a cry of pain when his knee refused to unbend.
Stumbling, Jae tossed the contacts into a cleansing container and hobbled to the bathroom door, holding the towel with one hand as he struggled to walk. The bedroom he shared with Yoochun was frigid. Both windows were open and his best friend lay under a mountain of quilts. Frowning, the singer debated shaking Chun up from his sleep when the covers shifted and a second pair of feet emerged from under the sheets.
“Shit. Junsu.” Jae growled and shoved his uncooperative legs into a pair of sweats, pulling on a t-shirt before heading back to the living room. Digging a blanket out from the hallway closet, he stretched out on the living room couch, stealing a few cushions from the love seat to rest his head on. A sliver of light crept out into the living room from the hallway, forgotten and left burning when he’d finished raiding the linens.
“Get up or leave it on?” He debated, closing his eyes to see if the light leaked through his lashes. He’d almost convinced himself to leave it on when his phone rang, chirruping a sensual R&B riff. Flipping the phone open, Jaejoong growled softly into the speaker. “Do you know what time it is? I was going to sleep.”
“I have a pretty boy say that to me all the time,” Se7en replied. His voice was thin, any humour he’d shared with the youngest Dong Bang singer swept away under a razor edged tightness. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“You shouldn’t be calling me. That’s what’s going on,” Jae said, flopping back onto the couch. “If Minnie finds out I know about you two, he’ll kill me and then kill you. Or maybe he’ll kill me first while you watch and then wrap you in thin guitar strings and hoist you up until you bleed slowly to death over my corpse.”
“It’s bad enough when Changmin worries me talking about exacting revenge. I don’t need two of you doing it. And I’m not the one who wants to keep us a secret. Your little boy wants that.”
“Min is no little boy. Not any more. If Yunho finds out about you, you won’t be a boy anymore… little or otherwise so you two better figure out what you’re going to be before he sniffs around any more. One of you needs to tell him. I can’t keep lying for all of you. It’s hard to keep track of who knows what.”
“Your dongsaeng is stubborn, like his leader. You expect him to listen to me?” Se7en retorted. “You need to start keeping track of your phones. If you hadn’t picked up his phone by mistake when I called, you’d not be lying to him or anyone else right now.”
“I thought it was mine.”
“You have what? Three? Four phones? Who the hell needs four phones?”
Jaejoong growled. “It’s late, Dong-Wook, and I’m tired. What do you want?”
“I wanted to know if you made it home.” Se7en said. “And to see if you’ve told Yunho about Kimura.”
“Yunho doesn’t need to know about Kimura-san,” Jae said, his voice breaking as he choked the words out over his tongue. “It’s… he doesn’t… need me any more, se7en. Knowing about Kimura would just bring him guilt and he’d be obligated to do something, either because we were lovers or because he’s the leader of the group. We can’t afford that here. Not now.”
“So you’re just going to let Kimura… “ The other man hissed, forcing air between his clenched teeth. “God, you are so fucking stupid, Jaejoong. I don’t care if Min finds out that you know about us. It’s not right what’s happening to you. You don’t deserve…”
“You don’t know what I deserve or don’t deserve, Se7en,” Jae replied, cutting the other singer off with a cold slice of words. “Maybe everything that’s happening… Yunho. Kimura… maybe this is what should be. Maybe they’re right and I am going to Hell for what I am. For who I am.”
“Yunho’s father was right. No matter how far away as I get from Itaewon, I’m still nothing more than a whore. Not fit for his son but good enough for a quick fuck. The problem was that I believed he loved me and he did too, for a while.” Bitter, Jae bit his lip, dabbing his tongue at the spots of blood forming along the ridge of his teeth. “Good night, Se7en, and don’t call me anymore. Min hating me is the last thing I want to worry about right now.”