wedspawn ♥ (wedspawn) wrote,
wedspawn ♥

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

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

Part One: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 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.

Men were in the shadows, circling around the floor where colourful lights played over sweaty, pretty boys. The dance floor stretched over most of the lower area, spilling up into low platforms rising up a few feet. The more exhibitionist minded dancers lingered there, their supple bodies dripping with come-hither movements and flashing eyes. The once-lovers avoided the spotlights and platforms, keeping themselves to the corner and hugging to the darkness. Music pounded their bodies, the beat of the speakers creating a soft wind to ruffle their hair and clothes.

A few inches separated them but to Yunho, it might as well have been several miles.

Jae’s head was down, his hair fallen forward to veil his cheekbones but Yunho knew the expression the other man’s face — a lost sensual angel mask he wore when he fell into the music playing around him. There were times when only Jaejoong could hear the melody in his mind, enraptured by the sounds blending around him but now in the flood of sensation, lights and sound, Yunho shared the singer’s ethereal experience and wanted more.

Two weeks then another two passed since he’d visited Netsuke and he’d heard not even a whisper of a call on his cell phone. Every few days he fought the urge to call his father and complain but Jae’s haunted eyes when Kimura walked through their apartment kept him silent. He had to focus on keeping Jaejoong safe and away from the cruelties their manager would visit upon him. Yunho had his job to do and he needed to keep that in mind.

Knowing that didn’t make the wait any easier. And seeing Kimura’s smirking sneer when his eyes fell on Jae’s slender body made Yunho’s fists itch. A splash of blood on his knuckles, the leader growled to himself. That’s all Yunho wanted. And to see Kimura bleeding out and as bruised as Jaejoong’s heart had been.

The light caught on Jaejoong’s shoulders and Yunho suddenly found himself staring into the young man’s face, his amber whiskey eyes were dark with pleasure and his full mouth wore the imprints of Jae’s teeth, his tongue dabbing at the spots where he’d chewed on his lip while dancing. The dart of tongue made Yunho hard and despite years of watching Jaejoong taste at the air or his mouth, the leader couldn’t help but react to the sight of his sensual mouth partially open and panting, begging to be filled.

Unable to do something about the stiffness in his body, Yunho pulled Jaejoong closer, guiding the young man into the curve of his body until they fit against one another. They moved easily, Jaejoong’s back against Yunho’s chest. Dark ink played peek-a-boo with Yunho around Jae’s t-shirt collar, the top of their group’s name sliding in and out of view. Daringly, the man leaned forward, smiling as Jae dropped his head back to rest on his shoulder.

Keeping his eyes on the crowd, Yunho waited until the lights dipped away from them and let his tongue wander, tasting at the tattoo Jaejoong wore so proudly on his back.

The singer stiffened, either from shock or his body reacting to Yunho’s wet caress but then a moment later, Jaejoong relaxed, draping back against the other’s open arms. With his head bent back, his throat exposed and his mouth open, Jaejoong lay surrendered to Yunho’s touch and mouth, his hips moving against the other man’s hips in time with the slow groove settling over them.

Li hing mui, Yunho thought, that’s what Jaejoong tastes like when dancing. They’d tried the odd preserved plum a month or so ago and the delicate but strong flavour fused to Yunho’s mind. He’d struggled to remember where he’d tasted it before, if only to satisfy his own curiosity and with the lithe bodied singer undulating against him and a lick of Jae’s body on his tongue, Yunho finally got his answer. Traveling plum was what the name translated to and Yunho couldn’t think of anything better to describe his estranged boyfriend.

A succulent plum pulled dry from a hard life but then rolled in sugar, salt and a spicy licorice, the flavours had battled for dominance in Yunho’s mouth as Jae’s tang now confused his mind. A hint of black sweet lingered as an aftertaste, either from a dash of cologne or more likely from the complex scent of the singer’s favoured soap.

Yunho resisted another taste. A man’s eyes were on them, piercing and dark as if he could peel back their clothes and watch the couple’s most intimate moves. Apprehensive curls started in Yunho’s stomach, creeping and winding through his nerves until he felt himself begin to move away from Jaejoong, his emotions shuttered back by the damning thoughts of his own upbringing.

“Look at those men,” His uncle once said as they passed two older men holding hands in the park. “It’s disgusting what they do.

Yunho had only seen two men holding hands, their shoulders brushing and laughter in their voices but the dripping hatred in his relative’s voice was evident. Their actions were abhorrent, damaging to society and a perversion. A Korean man could casually touch a friend but couldn’t linger. To hold onto another man for longer than a moment meant a deviance no one would abide for.

And yet as the group slowly drew together, Yunho found himself holding onto Dong Bang Shin Ki’s slender vocalist for longer and longer moments. Then Yunho found himself unwilling to let go.

The distance between his and Jaejoong had grown. If he tried, Yunho could put his fist between their bodies and the space hurt. Jae danced on, not feeling or not caring about the span of air lingering hot between them but Yunho felt it, long threads snapping as he moved and shifted.

Every thread was a memory, shared and remembered, hooking into Yunho’s soul. They tugged, sometimes leaving starbursts of pain while others were warm points spreading through him but the connection was there, drawing Jae to him. Reaching out, Yunho placed his hands on Jaejoong’s belly, wrapping his arms around his lithe boyfriend. Raising his head, the leader met the man’s eyes, challenging him to speak up against their touching… to say anything about Yunho’s running his palms over Jae’s chest, circling around the pebbled nubs now visible through the singer’s thin t-shirt.

He wanted to bend Jae’s head back, holding the other’s hair in his clenched fist until the singer was arched against him. With his throat exposed and hips canted out, Yunho could spend his time exploring the sensitive skin below Jae’s earlobe, nuzzling and nipping as the young singer moaned his little kittenish mews. In the darkness, Yunho was tempted to pull the shirt free of Jae’s body or even, more daringly, tear it down the front so the young man’s chest was exposed and he could reach in to explore Jae’s long torso or wet his fingers and play with the diamond embellished gold ring piercing Jae’s navel.

As if hearing Yunho’s thoughts, Jae slithered back, his hips rolling into with an erotic allure. Too ethereal-minded to recall the intricate steps of their choreography without excess repetitions, Jaejoong’s graceful sensuality emerged only in the driving pound of a freeform dance, his supple and seemingly boneless body wrapped around the music in ways that bent Yunho’s imagination.

The music shifted, changing over to a faster beat and Jae followed, led by the bass. Continuing to watch, the man’s eyes glazed over, his thoughts moving to places and things other than what was in front of him. With a lift of his lip, Yunho dismissed him, turning his attention to the pale column of Jae’s throat.

A pulse fluttered blue under Jae’s skin, the singer’s collarbone dewed with small dots of sweat. With the lights flashing in time to the music, the drops sparkled on the singer’s skin, jewels on white velvet. Unable to resist the temptation, Yunho licked the ridge clean, running his tongue over the length of Jae’s chest to savour the licorice scented flesh under his lips.

Buzzing interrupted Yunho’s playful fondling of Jae’s body and he frowned, debating if he should leave his phone in his pocket but the vibrations stilled only for a second before starting up again. First one incoming text then another, rapidly following one another drew Yunho away but not before he sank his teeth into Jae’s throat, pulling up a mouthful of the singer’s skin between his teeth. He would leave a mark, Yunho thought as he rolled the mouthful back and forth. He would leave it and be proud of Jaejoong wearing the imprint of his biting kiss when they tumbled out of the club and into the night.

Jaejoong glanced back when Yunho pulled away. Holding up his lit up phone, Yunho wrinkled his nose and held up his fingers, asking Jae to wait for him. Nodding, the singer closed his eyes and started dancing, shifting away from the crowd as he lifted his arms over his shoulders and bent his head, rolling his shoulders in time to the music.

Keeping one eye on his lover, Yunho checked his messages with a quick flick of his fingers. He didn’t care for the glances Jae was gathering from the dancers on the main floor and from the interested quirk of one young man’s eyebrow, Yunho was fairly certain he’d have to either back Jaejoong up when he said no or end up punching out another club-goer.

Have something for you. Want to give to K yourself or want me to? Netsuke used a simple form of Japanese but the intent was clear. She wanted him to respond quickly and he’d ignored her, or so he imagined considering she’d left four messages with basically the same message. Come by and get package. Or I’ll go. Let me know.

I will come get. Yunho struggled with the words. Sighing at his lingual skills, he checked the time and sighed again. Part of him hated cutting his time with Jaejoong short, especially since the singer often felt amorous following a night out but Netsuke was clear. She was short on time and doing Yunho a favour. He’d have to dance attendance to her when she wanted him to.

“Baby,” Yunho shouted into Jae’s ear. “Gotta go”

Jaejoong frowned, grabbing Yunho’s wrist to check his watch. It was early, his face clearly said but when Yunho shouted their manager’s name so he could hear, the singer went pale and nodded. Holding Jaejoong’s hand, Yunho brushed past the man who’d been staring, jostling his shoulder as they went by. Regardless if he shared Jaejoong’s bed, Yunho would make it clear the young man was leaving with him.


The alleyway was even darker than Yunho remembered and rats scattered in all directions when he walked past the garbage bin. Having dropped Jaejoong off at the apartment, Yunho made certain the others were there before he left. Unwilling to leave Jae and Min with Kimura, the leader woke Yoochun up with a violent shake, pulling him out of bed as Jae mumbled about needing a shower.

Kimura lingered in the kitchen, watching with narrowed eyes as the baritone stumbled out of the hallway. He’d long caught on to the members’ unwillingness to leave Jae with him but they’d been circumspect before. In dragging Yoochun out, Yunho was flagrantly throwing down the gauntlet for Kimura to pick up.

“You can’t be here all the time, shonen,” Kimura said, sipping at hot cup of tea. His eyes lingered on Jae’s chest before moving on to the length of his legs, tiny spots of skin showing through the singer’s torn jeans.

“You shouldn’t be here at all,” Yunho snarled back, keeping his voice low so the others didn’t hear him.

“I can arrange it so you aren’t,” The man took another sip, casually smiling wickedly over the mug’s rim. “There are ways for someone on the end to get hurt…badly hurt even. Perhaps even ending their career.”

“Funny,” Yunho grabbed the keys to one of the group’s rented cars. He was willing to risk driving in Tokyo, especially late at night. He didn’t want to leave Jae alone for too long and from her text messages, Netsuke wasn’t willing to wait very long. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

The conversation with Kimura left a bad taste in his mouth and an uneasy feeling in his stomach but Yunho hurried, watching the lights change from red to green, impatient to go on his way. He’d made a wrong turn and then another before finding himself on the right street quite by accident. Parking in front of the restaurant, he nodded hurriedly at the same fat man in white he’d seen before. If anything the man’s clothes were even dirtier and the length of ash on his cigarette appeared to be nearly three inches long but Yunho didn’t stop to marvel at the balancing act.

A knock on the red door opened it and Netsuke stood in front of him, her lush form tightly dressed in black leather pants and a pale pink tank top. He could see she wore no bra, the dark rose of her nipples showing through the fabric and their peaks ripened at the brush of cold air from outside. Her hair was swept back from one ear and sparkling diamonds ran up the length of her helix, stars captured in stone on her peach skin. A red cherry died to make the colour of her lipstick and Netsuke smiled, her sharp white teeth reminding Yunho that she was as much a predator as Kimura, if not worse.

“Come in, pretty,” She hooked her fingers into Yunho’s shirt collar, leading him further into the single room. The rattan chair had been replaced by a wide couch, its low wooden back bare of cushions. A large padded envelope lay on the coffee table, keeping a couple of open cold beers company. Picking one up, she handed it to Yunho before snagging the second, sipping at the brew. “Envelope’s yours.”

“What’s in it?” Yunho said, holding the beer awkwardly as he juggled the envelope. Putting the bottle down, he wiped his hands on his jeans and cracked open the metal tab.

“Your way to get Kimura out of your life.” Netsuke rested her arm along the back of the couch. Her fingers stroked at the line of Yunho’s spine, starting a lingering heat on his skin. “Now, have a good look and we can talk about the rest of my payment.”

“Payment?” Yunho cocked his head to look at her. “My father sent enough money to cover…”

“Cover what you’re holding in your hand, yes,” Netsuke purred. “But I was thinking more along the lines of time and expenses. You know, incidentals. I ended up with a lot of incidentals, Jung Yunho. Look in the package first and see if it’s worth your…time.”

The envelope disgorged its contents with an indelicate flush. A couple of unmarked DVDs mingled with photographs, startling images of young men and boys stretched out on a very familiar looking bed. His throat closed up, recognizing the jigsaw patterned quilt on Kimura’s bed in their apartment. Mostly nude, the photos’ subjects were in various throes of pain without a shred of pleasure in their faces. In some, Kimura was clearly seen, his face twisted into an evil grimace or exultation, enjoying the humiliation of his victims. Sickened, Yunho tried to look away but he forced himself to go through the photos, searching for familiar features — hoping in his soul that he’d not find Jaejoong among the faces.

“How did you get these?” Yunho asked, his stomach roiling. Kimura’s perversions ran beyond just Jaejoong. They stretched out behind him, fluttering demon wings soiling every life he’d ever touched. Jae wasn’t among the images, much to Yunho’s relief but he knew it would have been only a matter of time if Jae hadn’t spoken up.

“He keeps a small office at another apartment. A smaller place that I guess he brings only special guests to.” Tapping out a cigarette from a wrinkled pack, Netsuke lit the end with a stainless steel lighter, exhaling a smoke ring into the air. “He keeps this kind of stuff in a safe under the bed. It took me three times to find it. I checked out the DVDS. Pretty sick stuff.”

“What am I supposed to with these?” Yunho asked. His lungs were sticky, the breath he’d just taken lodged somewhere in his throat. “How…”

“You do what your father did to you when he got those pictures of your pretty boy and his friend. And yes, I was the one who took those,” Netsuke replied. “You take them to him, shove them under his nose and tell him to get lost. Or you’ll spread them around. Trust me, Jung, no one likes their dirty little secrets out in the open. Especially dirty little secrets like this. How long do you think a piece of shit like this would last if one of these boys’ fathers found him? Japan’s more open minded than your Korea but this…” She tapped the photos with one scarlet fingertip. “This is still sick.”

“If I do that,” Yunho said, the images blurring with the hint of tears in his eye. “I become…”

“Your father?” She laughed, a harsh sound as bitter as the cigarette smoke she breathed out. “You became your father the moment you knocked on that door, Jung Yunho. You might as well take that final step. There’s no going back now. Not if you want to protect that sweet faced little angel of yours.”
Tags: otrc 9, r, yunjae
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