wedspawn ♥ (wedspawn) wrote,
wedspawn ♥

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

Title: On The Red Couch
Pairing: YunJae (with some YooSu and Min7en)
Chapter: Thirteen
Chapter Rating: R *Very Mature Subject Matter*
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.

Yoochun’s crowing laughter carried down the hall, closely followed by Yunho’s loud protests of cheating. Jaejoong debated rejoining them but the ache along his forehead twisted a knot between his eyes. The conversation with Rain left him parched inside, the fear of Min’s heart being broken even further by Se7en haunted him. He almost called the other man up, his mind wandering into the forbidden, to tell Se7en to leave Min alone… to leave off his pursuit of the youngest member.

His phone lay silent, waiting for Jaejoong to make up his mind. Sliding open his phone list with a flick of his finger on the screen, Jae dialed and smiled when she answered.

“Auntie,” He purred, cuddling into the mound of pillows at the head of his bed. “Are you busy? Are you working tonight?”

Musang! Oh it is good to hear from you. No, I’m not busy. I’m home waiting for the Mister to come get me. He’ll be here in about an hour.” Scarlet dropped her voice to a loud whisper. “We are going to dinner at an American restaurant. I’m wearing… jeans.”

“Oh, scandalous,” Jae teased.

His heart lifted, hearing her nickname for him. When she’d first called him musang, he’d asked what she meant and her description left him confused. A chance trip to the zoo brought him face to face with a civet and he gave her an odd look, wrinkling his nose at its musk.

“I smell like that?” He’d asked.

“No, dongsaeng,” She replied. “You act like that. Wild and hissing but with the right people, you purr.”

“Hah, I am fine in them,” Scarlet shot back, teasing Jaejoong back to the present. “And you, little one, are you fine?”

He spent a few minutes catching her up on the move and more importantly, the large bed he lay sprawled on. The bakla listened intently, asking pointed questions about Yunho’s behaviour before she sighed. “It sounds like you are asking to be hurt, little one.”

“Hurt? Yunho would never hurt me.”

“Not intentionally but you can’t expect a man to sleep next to you, someone he loves, and not touch you,” She said softly. “That’s a lot to ask of him.”

“It’s a lot to ask of me too,” Jaejoong replied. “When he speaks, I want to crawl into his mouth but sometimes, I hurt too much. I keep seeing… that one… sometimes when I hear someone speaking Japanese and touching me.”

Musang, I need you to be honest with me…”

“I will try, nuna.”

“Did Kimura… did he go farther with you than you told Yunho?” She sighed, pressing the back of her hand on her forehead, her long red nails clacking together. “Have you told him…everything?”

Jaejoong didn’t respond immediately and Scarlet’s heart sank, dropping past her breastbone and into her soul. It drowned there in her past tears when Jaejoong simply whispered, “Yes.”

“And you’ve not told him…about before?”

“No…just a little,” He admitted, his words hitching up, his voice breaking. “I can’t, nuna. He’ll not… look at me… or he’ll be afraid to touch me. You don’t know him. He is like that. He’ll spend more time trying to handle me like I am a piece of broken glass he doesn’t know which side is sharp. I can’t stand it.”

“You have to tell him, baby,” Scarlet advised, swallowing her own sorrow. “It’s not fair to him. He’s risked so much for you. He’s given up his family so he can love you.”

“I know, nuna. I know.”

“I can’t make you talk to him about this,” She said as she wondered if it was too early to pour herself a glass of cranberry juice and soju. Her nerves needed calming and she felt helpless with the ocean separating them. “You need someone in your heart… someone who knows everything that has happened to you. You aren’t giving Yunho credit. He is a man and men don’t like being lied to. It injures their ego. You know this. Your ego gets hurt all the time when he does things without telling you.”

“I’ve lied to him… a lot,” Jae said. “I’ve not told him about Min and Dong-Wook either.”

“Aish, well … “ Hissing, Scarlet startled one of the cats lying on the back of the couch. The Siamese yowled back at her, expressing his displeasure at the disruption of his nap. “That isn’t your secret to tell. That’s between Min and his hyung. Between Yunho and Jaejoong… that is yours. That’s the only thing you should be worrying about.”

“How do I tell him that… man hurt me?” Jae sniffled, quickly looking at the door. He’d fallen into the rolling Korean street dialect he’d learned when he’d moved to Itaewon and although he was fairly certain the others wouldn’t know the blend of their native tongue, Filipino and Chinese, he couldn’t be sure that they couldn’t pick up a few of the words. “How do I tell him, nuna, that Kimura took me… especially when Yunho worked so hard to make sure I was never alone.”

“That happened before he knew, musang,” Scarlet reminded him. “You have to tell him that. If he finds out anyway, then he will be hurt you lied to him and probably feel guilty because he couldn’t protect you. It’s worse if you don’t tell him, baby. Much worse.”

Jaejoong remembered that afternoon as a blur of pain and clouds. To him, it seemed like the last day he’d seen the sunlight, shards of lemon yellow lights. The bits he recalled were remembered through a veil, filmy memories where he felt detached from what was happening. His tongue stung, bitten at the tip by Kimura’s teeth when he forced himself into Jae’s mouth, kissing the young man while he took what he wanted. The pain shattered Jaejoong’s resolve, and his frenetic struggles were futile. Weakened and tired from lack of food and over-exertion, he’d been able to fight the man off.

Even worse, he felt that he deserved the intrusion into his body, welcoming the pain as one he earned. Turning his back on Yunho, stoking the angry embers of his resentment fueled his self-loathing and when Kimura drew away, Jaejoong began weeping, hoping he’d purged himself of the guilt he’d carried.

He didn’t know the pain had just begun.

Ripping free of the young man’s body, Kimura’s hatred of his temptation flared and Jaejoong’s world turned white with agony. The first few hits were tentative, testing the young man’s resilience. When Jaejoong whimpered and tried to crawl away, his fingers hooking into the rug, Kimura grew bolder and struck, a steel-fisted cobra biting at its prey with heavy ringed fists.

Kimura’s arms grew tired before his rage was spent and the last few spurts of his anger were delivered with solid kicks to Jae’s ribs, cracking the slender man’s bones. The only sounds left in the room were Kimura’s strained breathing and Jae’s defused mewling as he rolled over, his naked body bruised and his soul stripped into ribbons.

The manager dressed himself, glancing down at the young man’s beaten form as he zipped up his slacks. Filling the cup of his tongue with spittle, he flung his disgust onto Jaejoong’s face, splattering the young man’s cheek with foamy saliva. Nudging Jaejoong with the toe of his Italian leather loafer, Kimura ordered him to get out of the room before five in the afternoon. Another group would need the practice area and the Korean would more than likely want to avoid someone seeing him lying on the carpet with his legs spread open as if Kimura hadn’t satiated him.

Jaejoong didn’t remember when exactly he’d gotten to his feet but it seemed as if hours passed before he found the strength in his body to stumble to the bathroom. The sink water ran pink with his blood and he shook as he pulled out long lengths of paper towels from the dispenser, soaking the wads in the basin and washing himself of Kimura’s touch.

His clothes rubbed him raw, scraping over the bites and bruises when he walked. Jaejoong barely recalled the face of their driver and the happy bubbling voices of the other members didn’t penetrate his ghostly shell. The ride home to the apartment was another eternity then everything fell into a darkness he didn’t want to end.

That evening, he took four showers and scrubbed his thighs and back nearly to bleeding. The feel of Kimura’s hands on his body echoed on his skin and Jae sobbed until his body wrung itself clear of salt and tears. When the water hit his shoulder blades, he felt a bite break, the heavy flow separating the nearly bitten through skin. Blood ran from the middle of his tattoo, the inked spot bubbling up at the edges of the bite, the water carrying Jaejoong’s tears along side of the red trickling down his spine.

The area was — sacred — Jaejoong’s cries staggered, his lungs fighting for air under the water stream pounding Jaejoong’s face. He’d placed his soul there — the soft skin Yunho bit and kissed when they made love. He couldn’t count the times he’d been on his knees with his head down as the other man nipped and rolled the tattoo between his teeth, murmuring his love into the bites as his hips thrust his sex deeper and deeper into Jae’s welcoming body.

Now, it was a spot that wouldn’t come clean… no matter how much Jaejoong scrubbed it.

The present slapped him hard and Scarlet’s querulous concern made him swallow the memories drawing up in his mind. Clearing his throat, Jae wiped at his face. “I’m here, nuna. I’m sorry…”

“You need someone to talk to, baby,” She urged softly. “If you can’t tell Yunho right now, then please at least talk to someone else. Someone who will understand what happened.”

“When which happened?” Jae asked, his words bitter and sour. “Kimura or before? I can explain away the time when that man… hurt me but now? How can I tell Yunho that Kimura… that I let Kimura make love to me?”

“That wasn’t love, musang,” Scarlet said soothingly. “He tried to take you apart because he hates what he is. What he did to you had nothing of love about it. What Yunho does to you…how he feels… that is love, dear. The reason Kimura did what he did to you is because he hates himself for wanting someone as beautiful and as precious as you. He wanted to destroy you because he’s too much of a coward to destroy himself.”

“You’ve always told me there is no shame in loving another man.” He bit at the pillow, shoving his cheek into its softness. “That when someone… when someone like me… kills himself, that they were murdered by society.”

“Anyone who destroys someone’s soul deserves what karma gives them,” Scarlet replied. “There is no shame in loving another man. Kimura’s shame isn’t in wanting you, musang. His sin is in trying to murder your soul because he couldn’t have you.”


Junsu stretched his arms up over his head, moaning when he felt a crack between his shoulder blades. The dark hallway was sometimes treacherous to walk through, especially when he and Yoochun forget to pick up their shoes. Working the kink out of his back, he stopped at his closed bedroom door, spotting a light on somewhere in the main part of the house. Padding towards the light source, he entered the living room and stared for a moment at the column paper lantern glowing softly in the corner.

“Did I leave it on?” He moved over to turn it off, pausing at the patio’s open doors.

A familiar harsh odor tickled his nose and Junsu sighed, thinking Yoochun took his absence as a chance to sneak off and have a cigarette. He’d almost convinced himself to lock the baritone outside as revenge for smoking when he heard a snuffling noise too perfectly pitched for the low-voiced Chun.

Stepping out, he peered into the darkness, a light mist falling over the patio. “Joongie-ah?”

“Go back to bed, Junsu.” Jaejoong’s Korean was harsh, filled with a sharpness Junsu heard only when he snuck down to Sin with his lover. The dialect was born in the hard streets of the lower districts, a rough growling tone merged with the ugliness of vulgar slang.

“What’s the matter, Je Je?” Junsu came up behind the young man leaning over the patio’s high railing, worry chewing away the tired he’d felt moments ago. When he touched Jaejoong’s hair to stroke away the harshness in the other man’s voice, the singer pulled away. “Hyung, what’s wrong? Did you and Yunho fight?”

“No, nothing like that,” Jae bit off a sour laugh before it turned to vinegar in his mouth. “I’m fine. Just go back to bed.”

“You don’t sound fine, hyung,” The younger man said. “Please, come inside. If Yunho is asleep, Yoochun and I can stay up with you. Maybe talking about it will help?”

“No. It won’t.”

With his shoulders hunched over, Jaejoong’s shoulder blades jutted out, winging up his shirt. The night sky was black, devoid of any stars but the clouds reflected back the city’s light, a watery pour of golden bleach over Jae’s pale skin. Junsu thought he looked like a magpie lurking over a newly dug grave, waiting to snatch the soul of a loved one as it fled to Heaven.

“Please, Susu-ah,” Jaejoong turned his head, the shadows drenching his face. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

Reluctant to leave the singer alone, Junsu hovered for a second, shuffling his feet but Jaejoong wasn’t paying attention anymore. Sucking off another drag from his cigarette, he resumed his shoulder crouch, watching the city street below them.

“If you need me or Chunnie-ah…”

“I know,” Jaejoong said softly. “I know where you are. Good night, Susu-ah.”

He waited until he heard Junsu walk away then the soft click of a door being closed before exhaling the stomach clenching sob he’d been holding in since he first heard the other man speak. It crawled up his throat, sinking long needle fangs into the soft tissues of his throat and raked over his tongue, whimpering with a pain-soaked mewl. He’d frozen when Junsu touched his head, forcing himself not to strike out or throw up while his hair was being stroked. Even the feel of another’s body heat on his skin made his nerves crawl and Jaejoong shuddered, wishing the falling rain were harder so it would burn away the feel of Junsu’s contact.

His cigarette sputtered, the paper nearly too moist to burn. Drawing in a drag, he blew out a curl of smoke and watched the wind carry it away. Staring at the unfolding grey column, Jaejoong’s mind wandered, dragging over a rocky cliff when he realized how far up the apartment was and how the weak breeze barely chilled the water on his face.

“So tiny,” Jaejoong whispered, tilting his hips out as he leaned forward, staring down at the heads of people rushing around on the street. The evening was coming to a close for the city but the foolhardy and stalwart were still out, coming home from work or a night out. A tinkle of laughter reached his ears, the sound carrying up from another patio.

The thought was fleeting but … seductive, a razor blade winged butterfly that sliced through his thoughts and sipped at the syrupy nectar of his will. It would be so easy, it whispered. Just a pull up and then freedom… and if you stretched your arms out, you would fly straight down.

“God,” He said, ashen and cold. Jaejoong flirted with the wonder of death at times but the cold embrace of its arms around his heart and the touch of its kiss left him chilled inside. He couldn’t believe what he’d contemplated. Even if just for a moment, it was there, beating with a sluggish heart as his pain breathed life into it.

He fumbled for his phone, caught between the trap of his lies and the agonizing spears of his own emotional wreckage. A woman answered the first number he dialed and he apologized profusely, checking the display before dialing again. His fingers were too stiff to properly call up the codes and Jaejoong skittered in a breath, tossing the remainder of his cigarette into a sand-filled coffee can. Trying the correct number, he breathed a sigh of relief when Camui’s silken voice said hello.

“I need…to talk to someone, hyung,” Jaejoong bit his lip, tasting the pain. A drop of blood spread on his tongue and he trapped it against the roof of his mouth, working over the ridges.

“First, no calling me hyung,” The other man said smoothly. “Secondly, anything you would like, kitten. You know I am always here for you. Now whisper your sweet nothings into my ear so I can hate myself for not finding you before your fierce tempered lover.”

“I need you to talk… to me,” He forced himself to step away from the railing. The want of it was too strong and Jaejoong reached out for the patio door, clenching its steel frame so hard it bite into his palm. “I need someone to talk to about… what Kimura did. About how I feel. Camui-san, I don’t think I can survive this any more. I don’t think I can survive reliving Kimura’s kisses any more.”

“Where are you, koneko?” He asked, concerned. “Are you alone?”

“Please, Camui-san, help me find my soul and erase this pain.” Falling under the weight of the rain on his shoulders, Jaejoong touched his forehead to the rough cement tiles. “Right now, I think the pain is the only way I know I’m alive…and I want nothing more… than to make it go away. Help me make it leave me, hyung… before I try to do it myself.”
Tags: otrc 13, r, yunjae
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