wedspawn ♥ (wedspawn) wrote,
wedspawn ♥

On The Red Couch (SMM Universe) YunJae: Chapter Four

Title: On The Red Couch
Pairing: YunJae (with some YooSu and Min7en)
Chapter: Three
Chapter Rating: R
Genre: Slash/Relationship
Author: Wedspawn
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.

Japan closed in, spiraling in on Jaejoong until he felt his ribs crack with each breath he took. Buildings crowded in against the picture window, steel and glass fingers breaking through the city’s asphalt skin, reaching towards the dirty grey sky. The season’s rains pounded back as if Heaven’s fury could somehow push the intruding constructs back beneath the rolling streets but the skyscrapers remained, impervious to the desires of the storm. Impotent, the tempest fought back the best way it could, licking at the tops of the taller buildings with forked tongues of lightning, sparking and arcing over the highest points of the city.

Alone, Jae stared out at the watery city, wondering at the emptiness he saw there. Far above the busy night streets, he couldn’t make out any people, their bustling forms either lost from height or the rising fog weaving through the tangle of buildings. Resting his forehead against the cool glass, he closed his eyes and relived the group’s performance in his mind, wincing at the memory of the audience.

Or, better phrased, the lack of one.

Barely able to eke out a hundred people to attend the event, they’d sang and danced, twirling around like trained monkeys in matching organ grinder suits while the audience sat motionless, not a murmur of appreciation or a clap. The silence overwhelmed them and Yoochun admirably held himself together until they’d gone off stage. Then the tears fell and their frustrated anger flew on newly sprouted wings.

“Why are we doing this?” Junsu shouted, fists clenched tight to his sides. “Why are we here when no one wants us?”

“Patience,” Kimura cautioned. “It will take time.”

“Time we don’t have,” Yunho replied, his voice almost steady but Jaejoong could hear the cracks in it. “It took us a long time to rise in Korea and now this, we’re behind where we started and the longer we stay here, the more ground we lose at home.”

Jaejoong couldn’t help but think it was ironic Yunho would speak up to this, for the group as a whole, when he could say nothing about his lover. But then, Yunho wasn’t trying to leave the group, just discard an unwelcome and unneeded lover he was still tied to.

The sound of a door opening behind him brought Jae out of his thoughts and he opened his eyes, watching as their Japanese manager entered the hotel room he’d rented for the night. The man was tall, long legged and broad shouldered; dressed in an Italian suit altered to fit his trim waist. From all appearances, he was a powerful, confident player in the music industry, sleek and suave with a chiseled face and dark sharp eyes. His mouth was thin and set, ripe for negotiations and slick words. His casual tousled black hair accented his square face, a spiky cut gelled away from his forehead.

Most women and some men would consider Kimura to be handsome.

Jaejoong considered him to be a sickness he had to endure. Especially since it didn’t appear as if he could recover from it any time soon.

“You look pretty like that,” Kimura said, undoing his tie as he came up behind Jaejoong. His Korean was flawless, barely accented and smooth. Tossing the silk tie onto a table, the manager slid himself into the bow of Jae’s body, leaning forward until he could reach around the singer’s slender waist. “Bent over, like you’re waiting for me.”

“I’m not waiting for you,” Jae replied sharply, pulling up and stepping away from the glass.

“No, I suppose not.” He let Jaejoong go, watching the singer slid away. Kimura’s fingers reluctantly released the other man’s wrist, his fingers leaving a band of red around the bone. “But you should be. I can give you what you want. What you need. What the group needs.”

“We just need to work harder. We…”

“Didn’t you see the audience’s reaction tonight? No one clapped during your performance. No one shouted or screamed your name,” Kimura reminded him. “The response afterwards? The polite applause? Did you think that anyone was going to leave that theatre and rush out to buy your single?”

“It’ll take time,” Jae insisted, running his hands through his hair. Stress left strands of the silky hair on his fingers, thinning slightly near the back where the stylist bleached it too far before the filming on one video. His head was still recovering from that colour change, small kernels of scar tissue from the blistering on his scalp. “We have time.”

“The company is giving you two years but you know that if you don’t turn something around soon, they’ll pare you down to a different grouping.” Kimura shrugged, keeping his smile tightly contained when Jaejoong whirled about to face him. “They might let you and Yoochun perform together. Perhaps move Junsu to a solo act or maybe even pair him up as a duet with BoA. I don’t know what they’ll do with Changmin. He’s fairly useless as a performer. Perhaps that other group that belongs to your company… that large one.. maybe they’ll split him into something there. As for Yunho, well, he can dance but really how is that useful for a music group?”

“Yunho and Min are good singers,” Jaejoong snapped. “They’ve worked hard to come to this.”

“And you’re holding them back.” Crossing over to the wet bar, Kimura opened a decanter of alcohol, sniffing at its amber contents. “Do you want a whiskey? I’m making myself one.”

“No.” He was reluctant to approach the man but instead returned to the window, pressing the flat of his hands against the pane.

“Are you thinking about what I’m offering you? What I’m offering the group?” Kimura returned to Jae’s side, his shoulder against the glass as he sipped his drink. Jaejoong smelled the potent liquor, smoky and musky as it sloshed around a handful of ice cubes.

“It’s not right…” Jaejoong looked up, meeting Kimura’s smug glance. “You…”

“I’m not an unkind man, Kim,” The manager said softly.

“Then why do I hurt?” Jaejoong asked. “Why do I have to change my clothes in the bathroom or wait until the others have left the dressing room?”

“When you say no to me, I get angry.” Kimura shrugged, an elegant lift of his shoulders under his suit jacket. “You can’t expect me to like it when I don’t get what I want. I want you, Kim and I need your group to succeed.”

“And if I say no again?”

“Then you’ll probably hate what comes next,” The man said, his eyes narrowing as he placed his glass on the table.

Picking up, the silk tie he discarded earlier, Kimura wrapped its length between his hands, fisting either end. The blue-striped swath was around Jaejoong’s neck before he could move, tightening up behind him as Kimura twisted it tight, knotting his wrists together as Jae struggled and fought for air. “Does that feel good, pretty boy? Do you think that I wouldn’t just choke you until you pass out? Then what? Do you think you can stop me from taking what I want while you lie there unconscious?”

“Or,” Kimura let a little slack through and Jae gasped, sucking in huge mouthfuls of air. “Maybe when I’m done with you, I’ll continue what I started. It would be a tragedy but then Junsu could move towards the middle, because in the grief, the members know that you would want them to go on. The Japanese love tragedies. They would flock to Tohoshinki and worship them for overcoming such pain.”

“Don’t,” Jae hiccupped, sliding his fingers under the tie to give himself some breathing room. “Don’t do that to them.”

“Do you know what I like even more?” Biting into Jaejoong’s ear lobe, Kimura played with one of the piercings, tonguing at the metal stud. “I think I might want to see how it feels to be buried deep in someone as I choke them until they lie cold. Maybe not you. You’re so very beautiful. A visual shock, don’t they say? Maybe someone more frail. Someone like Shim.”

“No.” Defiant, Jaejoong tilted his head back, pulling free of Kimura’s grip. Leaving the tie dangling, it flapped as he moved, unraveling from around his neck. “You lay one hand on Min and I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Kimura cocked an eyebrow, his smirk creeping over his face. “Kill me? Tell someone at the company that I’m trying to seduce you? How do you think that will be received? They will think some Korean upstart is trying to begin a scandal and I was acting out of good faith. I provided you with an apartment, spending money and contacts. I’ve even secured your passports in a safe so they aren’t stolen. Any interpreter you know works for my company. Do you think they wouldn’t translate what I wanted them to?”

“I can’t… I don’t want this,” Jae said, tears staining his face as Kimura retrieved his glass from the table.

“I know your history, Kim,” The man pointed out. “Lying underneath me a few nights of the week isn’t much of a leap from the countless men that probably have already stretched you open. One compared to tens. How bad can it be? And what I like isn’t that brutal. Nothing more than a few scratches and bruises. You’ll get used to it. Like riding a horse. Your muscles will be sore at first but then you’ll be accustomed to it in no time.”

“No. I won’t… betray…”

“Yunho?” The same Yunho who stepped aside for me when I told him I wanted you?” Kimura shot back. “The same lover who didn’t say one word to keep you when I assigned rooms? He easily sacrificed you to get ahead. I don’t understand why you’re so stupid that you can’t see it for yourself. We all make sacrifices to get what we want. You were one he easily cut. Now it’s time to do your part.”

Turning on his heel, Kimura grabbed Jaejoong’s arm as he flung his drink away. The glass hit the far wall, shattering in an explosion of shards and ice, the whiskey folding into a wave and falling to soak into the plush carpet. The light sand coloured threads darkened, the puddle spreading as the carpet drank up the flung whiskey.

Hooking his foot around Jae’s ankle, Kimura twisted the lean singer and slammed him down. Hitting the floor, Jaejoong yelped, his front teeth cutting into his tongue. A bright dot of blood speckled his lips, spreading under the crush of Kimura’s savage kiss. Trapped between their mouths, the blood mingled with the manager’s spit, forced back into the singer as Kimura’s tongue explored the recesses of Jae’s mouth.

It was over as quickly and brutally as it started, the dig of Kimura’s knee into Jaejoong’s groin while his hands clenched Jae’s hips, lifting him up and pounding him back into the ground. Holding the rattled younger man down, Kimura straddled Jaejoong, his knees resting on either side of Jae’s thighs.

“Last week, on that night when I waited for you at the hotel?” Kimura bent over until his whiskey-soaked breath washed over Jae’s face. “You were to meet me and instead, I was left waiting. I won’t be kept waiting again, Kim. Go home now but I’m giving you one week to decide what you’re going to do. After that, I either take what I want from you…” Kimura’s hand roamed over Jae’s belly, twisting at the ring through the young man’s navel. “Or I’ll take what I want from one of the younger ones. Your choice. But make it soon.”


The apartment was dark when Jaejoong cracked open the front door. His back twinged every time he moved too quickly and his spine felt bruised where he’d hit the solid floor. Sneaking into his own home seemed foolish but as he padded into the living room on his bare feet, he looked about the open-space apartment and wondered at how much of a home it truly was.

Scattered about were pieces of the members’ lives, a discarded jacket or a pair of shoes left under the low table. A video game controller had been left out but the rest of the system had been packed back up, ready for either a quick move or more realistically, out of the way for when Yunho and Junsu practiced their choreography.

A pillow and blanket sat on the end of the couch, evidence of Yoochun and Junsu taking over the supposedly shared bedroom. With Kimura still at the hotel, it meant an empty bed somewhere but Jaejoong was reluctant to lie awake tossing under his sheets if another member lay sleeping next to him. Or worse still, finding an empty bed in Kimura’s room, leaving himself open to the man’s predatory ways.

“Living room is better,” Jaejoong said, sliding down onto the couch.

Hunger tugged at his belly, reminding Jaejoong he’d not eaten in hours. Sleep warred back, telling his body he only had a few hours to catch some rest before he had to be awake and practicing at the dance studio. The sharp pangs in his stomach won out and he pulled himself to his feet, stretching his arms over his head and wincing when his back muscles jerked and pulled.

A packet of instant ramen practically fell into his hand when Jaejoong opened the cabinet. Filling the cup with hot water, he placed it into the microwave, almost falling asleep as he waited for the appliance to ding. Shuffling back to the couch, Jaejoong sat down and peeled the cover back, realizing he’d forgotten to grab a utensil.

“Screw it,” He muttered, sipping at the hot broth. Steaming noodles hit his lips and he bit off what he could, chewing slowly. The salty soup calmed his nervous stomach, shreds of noodle hitting the emptiness in his belly and staving off his hunger.

The hallway light flicked on and Jae glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Yoochun. When Yunho appeared around the short wall, he choked, nearly inhaling the noodles in his mouth. He wasn’t prepared for his body’s reaction on seeing the other man. The belly that had been crying in hunger a few minutes before now warmed and clenched, mewling in need of the man’s hand along his skin. Inside, his core ached, tightening with the lack of Yunho’s hard heat delving deep into him.

All of those things were pushed aside under the glare of the hallway light and Yunho’s silhouette looming over his shoulder and Jaejoong turned back to his noodles, fishing out a mouthful between pinched fingers. Tilting his head, Jae was about to take a bite from the dripping mass when Yunho crossed over to the couch and folded into a crouch next to the singer.

“I just needed something to eat,” Jae said flatly, picking at the noodles then dropping them back into the cup. Sucking his fingers clean, he put the ramen container on the table. “I’ll turn off the light. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” Yunho said. “Why didn’t you come back with the rest of us?”

Jaejoong tried to read Yunho’s face but the leader was a mask of shadows and calm, giving the singer no hint to his mood. His body heat ignited the smouldering fire Jaejoong thought he’d banked into embers, the love he had for Yunho flaring at the other man’s closeness. His imagination ran with the image, recalling softer times when they’d shared a shower or the soft comfort of worn sheets, their bodies intertwined and joined.

I would give anything for a kiss, Jaejoong thought. I would die to have him smile at me again.

“Kimura-san…wanted to talk to me,” He stuttered, trying to mask the uneasiness he felt when he spoke of their manager. “He is worried about my singing.”

“Your singing is fine,” Yunho replied. “And your Japanese is better than any of ours is.”

The tension thickened, so many past arguments wearing down the connection they’d once had. Even the brush of Yunho’s breath on his arms gave Jaejoong a shiver, plunging him into a maelstrom of emotion. He knew the taste of the man hunkered down before him but Jae wanted to dip down into that mouth and savour Yunho’s strength and passion anew. He needed to explore everything the leader hid inside of himself, even to bask in the hot tempestuous anger that often rocked Yunho’s fiery soul.

The cold in Yunho’s eyes stopped him before Jaejoong could cup the other man’s face. There was no welcome in the man’s set mouth or the squaring of his broad shoulders.

“I want to talk to you… about this,” Yunho said, waving his hand.


“This thing between us,” The man clarified, dropping his head down so Jaejoong couldn’t see his eyes. “It has to stop. I have to put a stop to it.”

In that moment, Jaejoong’s heart stilled, falling dead in his chest. He opened his mouth, searching for words to beg with. If he could find what he needed to say in the rush of confusion flooding his mind, Jae panicked, he could stop Yunho from saying what was on his mind or worse, voicing some of Jaejoong’s greatest fears.

“I’ll be better,” Jae whispered, reaching out to touch the other man’s bare shoulders. He stopped short, holding himself back from skimming his fingers across Yunho’s warm, tanned skin or hooking his hands around the man’s tank top to pull him into a kiss. “I promise, Yunho. I’ll work harder. I’ll….”

“That’s not what’s needed, Joongie-ah,” Yunho sighed, lifting his head and the light glistened over the tear drops in his wet, teak-hued eyes. “I can’t go on like this. I miss you, baby and I...I can’t do this any more without you. ”
Tags: otrc 4, r, yunjae
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