Title: On The Red Couch ♥
Pairing: YunJae (with some YooSu and Min7en)
Chapter: Twenty-Two (Start of Part 3)
Chapter Rating: R
Please Note: I will be continuing to write on vacation but the posts WILL be irregular until September 15th.
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.
They were tired. Tokyo slept around the van as it moved through the nearly empty residential streets. Only a coffee shop’s lights were burning, several university students clustered around one table tapping at laptops and consulting open books. White coffee cups were stacked in a tower near one girl’s elbow and Min blearily wondered if she’d hit it while the van waited for the light to change.
He blinked when the view suddenly changed to a row of low apartment houses, only a few porch lights left on to lure their occupants back home. Changmin wiped at his face, his hand nearly to heavy to lift. Muscles along his shoulder blades ached, the pain working up from the middle of his back over to his collarbones, leaving a stream of twinges every time he moved.
His stomach growled, letting Min know that it’d been a long time since he’d eaten. Trying to remember the last time he’d had food, the singer grumbled to himself that the knowledge would only be useful if he knew what time it actually was. From the echoing pit in his body, he guessed more than a few hours passed since he’d chewed down a cup of instant noodles.
Tokyo remained draped in a shroud of rain. The night skies were grey and a thick fog dropped down, obscuring the streets. Their driver slowed, jostling Yunho against Yoochun and the baritone grumbled in his sleep, shifting his legs around the leader’s knees. Jaejoong slept soundly, scrunched into a ball in the front seat. Junsu rested against the window, curled in on himself next to Changmin. They’d gotten to the single seats first, leaving the long bench seat for Yoochun and Yunho who’d seemed more tired than the rest but now Min wondered if he shouldn’t have claimed it and stretched out his long legs.
They were at the apartment in minutes and it took a few more minutes to wake Yoochun up. Yunho’s sharp voice bolted the baritone awake just as Jaejoong suggested they leave his best friend in the van as it would be back in the morning. The elevator up was another journey that lasted forever and Min collapsed onto the living room couch, wondering if he could make it to his room without falling asleep on the way.
“Are you hungry, Minnie-ah?” Jaejoong asked from the kitchen.
“I hate you,” Changmin wailed, lolling his head back to look at the older man. “I think I’m too tired to eat.”
“Let me make something quick,” He replied. “I’m making something for Yunho and I. I can make you some too.”
“Do you need help?” Min secretly prayed the singer would refuse and his weary body sighed in relief when Jaejoong shook his head.
“No, stay there. I’m good.” The sound of a knife moving through some vegetables lulled Min to sleep and he dozed off after Yunho ruffled his hair as he passed by.
“What are you making?” Yunho asked, wrapping his arms around Jae’s waist. His lips roamed down Jae’s neck, leaving a thin red line with a nibble of his teeth. A piece of bok choy made its way into Yunho’s mouth, making Jaejoong grumble.
“Don’t eat my vegetables.”
“You’re making food for me. Aren’t they my vegetables?”
“Not until they hit your plate,” He said, moving to the side. Reluctant to break contact with Yunho, he kept within reach of the other man, smiling when the leader slid his hands down to Jae’s hips.
“Come here,” Yunho pulled Jae closer, rubbing his thumbs over the singer’s exposed hip bones. Slouching against the counter, he was the perfect height to bend into the curve of Jaejoong’s neck and lick at the expanse of collarbone poking out of the low collar of his shirt.
“No doing any of that in the kitchen!” Min called out.
The shout startled the older men, freezing them in place. Jaejoong’s laughter warmed Yunho’s belly, its artless verve a silvery chime in his heart. Yunho tried to remember when he’d heard Jae’s laughter as open as it was right now. Min’s grumbling subsided as he stood, dragging himself into the kitchen.
Sneaking a mushroom from the pile, Changmin leaned on the counter, nibbling at its bright white knob. “What are you making?”
“Just a quick bibimbap.” Jae motioned to the fridge. “Can you grab the gochujang, Min?”
“No mushrooms,” Yunho frowned.
“Don’t eat them.” Min and Jaejoong groused at the same time. They shared a smile, Jae’s deep chuckle nudged Yunho’s laughter. He quirked a grin at his lover and checked the warming rice, testing the pot’s sides.
“Here,” Changmin placed the jar on the counter. “Is anyone going to wake up the tategamiinu?”
“What’s that word?” Yunho asked, scooping rice out into bowls. “What does it mean?”
“Um, the spotted wild dogs. The laughing ones,” Jaejoong responded.
“Oh, riaon kingu. Yunho teased Jae’s ear with a nip of his teeth.
“Aish, no no no, no doing that.” Their youngest scowled. “It’s bad enough being between you two when you want to play slap and tickle on camera. No doing it here.”
“Slap and tickle?” Yunho raised his eyebrows. “Where are you learning these phrases?”
“Yunnie-ah, leave our raigaa alone.” Passing a heaping bowl of food over to Min, he began to assemble a second, pointedly leaving out sliced mushrooms from the mix. “Here, go eat in your room. Just bring the bowl out tomorrow morning before we go.”
“Or I’ll go looking for it,” Yunho growled.
“I wasn’t the one who stashed half of the bowls under the bed,” Min shot back. “That was Chunnie and Junsu.”
He nearly turned into the wrong room, finding himself staring at the toilet for a moment before realizing his feet failed to reach his bedroom. Turning around, he continued on to the right door, closing it behind him with his foot. The bowl was warm in his hands and his stomach wept for satisfaction, the aroma of home-cooked food waking him up.
Changmin nearly burnt his tongue on the first spoonful, the metal utensil almost too hot to eat from. Blowing on the steaming food, Min got undressed, jogging from one foot to the other as he stripped off his jeans. A full shower would have to wait. Sleep and food took priority although the quick slosh down at the studio probably would hold him over until the morning. The emptiness in his stomach definitely would not wait that long.
Wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs, he stretched out onto the bed, resting his back against the wall. He could see the fog from the window above his headboard. With the lights dimmed down to a few candles and the window blinds open, his view stretched out as far as three blocks, a sheer curtain of fog numbing the city’s lights.
The noodle shop looked to be open, its dark blue curtain turned black in the shadows. A few people stood outside, their cigarette smoke mingling with the fog, carrying their conversation off in the wind. The sound of the older members coming down the hall were faint but their light-hearted banter was audible, mostly Jaejoong’s low laughter as he replied to Yunho’s teasing.
His first mouthful nearly brought Min to a peak, his body flushed with pleasure at the taste. After months of scraping together meals, Jae’s simple toss-together hit the right spot, the homegrown flavours bursting on his tongue. Sighing with pleasure, he scooped up a piece of leftover teriyaki Jae tossed in for protein and chewed slowly, trying to make the bibimbap last as long as he could. When he dug in for another mouthful, his cell phone buzzed, vibrating across the quilt and into his naked thigh.
“Hello,” Min set the bowl aside. He was still hungry but the ravaging need wasn’t in his belly. It settled lower, twisting him into a knot as he waited for Se7en to answer.
“Hello my Minku,” The other man purred. “How was your day?”
They were avoiding the conversation they should have… one of Min’s sharing of his heart and his worries. He’d been told by the older singer that Se7en would be patient but Changmin worried at the problem, wondering how long patience would last.
Just talk to him, ahondara,” Min scolded himself. Trust him. Let him trust you.
Until he breaks your heart, some place dark inside of him warned. And then where we will be?
“Minku? Are you there?” Se7en sounded alarmed and Min realized he’d zoned off, his mind wandering to other places.
“Sorry, hyung… Shichi,” He stifled a yawn, the weariness of his legs reaching his brain again. “We had a long day.”
“I can let you go to sleep,” He sounded sincere. Min knew he was sincere. The older man rarely did anything but tease and flirt but lie wasn’t a part of his vocabulary.
“No, I want to…”
“You want to what, baby?” There. The tease was back, a little of something wicked in the thrum of Se7en’s voice. “I can think of a whole bunch of somethings that I’d like you to want to do.”
“Aish, you’re going to get me into trouble.”
Se7en snorted, a loud hissing sound echoing over the phone. “I doubt you’ve ever been in trouble your entire life.”
“I have,” Min protested.
“Name one thing that you’ve done that could be considered bad. I bet you’ve never even skipped a class in school.” Se7en waited as Min thought. After a few seconds, he crowed, “Told you. What’s the worst thing you’ve done?”
“Hey, I’m not done thinking!”
“If you have to think about it, then you’ve not done anything bad enough to brag about.” Se7en explained. “What’s the worst thing your hyung… Jaejoong has done?”
“I think he stole a frozen chicken when he was five and tried to flush it down the toilet,” Min mused. “He felt guilty about stealing it and wanted to get rid of it.”
“God, the poor toilet.”
“Poor Joongie-ah! I think his father beat his butt until he was red.” Changmin chewed around a spoonful of food, murmuring with delight.
“Oh the sounds you are making right now, baby,” Se7en whispered. “I want to make you make those sounds.”
“I’m eating,” He said, swallowing. “Je Je made me bibimbap.”
“So not only are you in another bed but you’re eating Korean food?” Se7en gasped, mocking the younger man.
“Well, I don’t think either one of us is ready for you to come knocking on the door for dinner one night,” Min tsked. He scraped around the bowl, smearing the half-cooled egg yolk. “Yunho would kill you and Jae… no, Jae might feed you. Then he’d kill you.”
“I don’t think Jaejoong would mind if I came around for dinner. Especially if he could see that beautiful flush on your face after I was done with you.”
“Aish, don’t talk about that, Shichi!” Min automatically looked at the door as if he expected the older singers to come through it, their raised angry voices demanding to know who was on the phone. “I don’t want to think about you… doing those things to me… and aish, the hyung… I don’t want them to…”
“You don’t want them to know you can purr and moan at the same time? Because you can, baby.” Se7en stood up, looking around his empty apartment. He’d only shared a few hours with the other man, quick drops of sand that flowed past them in a rush. He wanted to see Min… feel him… even taste the other’s delicious snarky, smart-assed mouth. “Did you think of something wicked? Something you’ve done?”
“No,” Min admitted softly. “I’m not a wicked person, Shichi. I think I’ve spent most of my life looking forward, not over my shoulder.”
“Ah, want to be naughty?”
“What do you mean?” He was suspicious, despite his trust of Se7en. His spoon hit the bottom of the bowl and Min sighed, mourning the finale of his meal.
“Come out with me tonight,” Se7en whispered. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs in the alley. I’ll take you to the noodle shop down the street from you. Be wicked with me, Minku.”
“I can’t…” His mind raced, counting off the hours until he had to get up and be on the go again. Their schedules were hectic, running from one interview and then an event before starting dance practice and voice lessons. In between, a few hastily gulped down meals and a shower. No time for anything other than that. Glancing at the book he’d started two weeks ago, Min noticed his bookmark held his place after the first few pages. He’d have devoured the novel within a week in Korea. In Japan, his life was stitched together with appointments and stolen time.
“Will you be able to eat?” Se7en taunted. “The ramen there is your favourite.”
“The Shichi is my favourite,” Min whispered, covering his face as if the other man could see him. “That’s the only thing that could tempt me. The noodles are just a… bonus thing, no?”
“Ah, I like the sound of that, baby.” He sighed, stretching his body out. “So, you’ll meet me downstairs? I can be there in half an hour.”
“Okay,” Changmin agreed, partially sliding off of the bed and wincing when his hips protested the movement. “But I can’t stay out too long. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Honey, if I do things right, you won’t be able to sleep at all tonight or any other night until you’re lying in bed next to me, naked and screaming my name,” Se7en chuckled when Min hissed in irritation. “But I’ll be good. I promise. I will go home frustrated and you’ll go back to your little gang den and sleep the sleep of the innocent.”
“You made me not so innocent anymore, Shichi. Remember?” Changmin stood, willing his body to wake up. “And… I think I’m ready to… talk to you about…”
“About what baby?” Se7en asked.
“About what happened to Joongie-ah,” He breathed, feeling the strain on his heart release. The saying of it…the promise of giving to Se7en cut through the ball of stress he’d carried in his chest for too long. Tonight, they would slice through it, sharp words for a Gordian knot. “I want to tell you what happened… and…most of all, how glad I am to have you, Shichi. How very glad I am to have you in my life.”