wedspawn ♥ (wedspawn) wrote,
wedspawn ♥

On The Red Couch (SMM Universe) YunJae: Chapter Thirty-Three

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

I will not be posting this weekend. Please look for a new chapter on Monday, California Time. If I lie and post something ahead of time because I had to write it forgive me but I’m aiming for Monday at the earliest. Thanks.

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.

“Let’s go out,” Yunho slid off of the bed, closing his phone up. Frowning, he searched for a pair of clean socks, finding a ball of whites in his dresser. Behind him, Jaejoong lay where his lover left him, curved into a crescent, moulded into a Yunho-shape that was no longer there.

“Why?” Jae asked quietly, sitting up and crossing his legs. He played with the silver ring he wore on one toe, turning it around as he stared at his fingers absently. “Why do you want to go out?”

“Because if I get out of the house, I can’t cry,” Yunho tightened his mouth, his nostrils flaring as he fought the melancholy wave riding over him. “Because Asian men don’t cry in public and don’t tell me no. Yoochun doesn’t count. He cries at anything. I do not cry in public.”

“Yunnie-ah, you don’t need to run from this… from me.”

“I’m not running from you,” He said, pulling the socks on his feet. Staring at the floor, Yunho mumbled. “I just need to get out and get some air. Are you coming with me or not?”

Jaejoong followed. Even with his long stride, it was difficult to keep up with the other man. Yunho plunged into the Tokyo sidewalk, his dark hair and pale face hidden under a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His jeans pockets, already torn from wear, jutted out where his knuckles were pressing against the seams and Yunho kept his head down, leaving his fists tucked away. Tension brought the leader’s shoulders up, nearly hiding his neck as he hunched, not making eye contact with anyone around him.

They walked for what seemed like forever to Jaejoong, wandering aimlessly around the cold, wet streets until Jae felt a twinge in his knee. Ignoring the sharp pang, he kept up, a few steps behind Yunho until the icy temperature cut down into the bone and he stumbled, the joint giving out from under him. Catching his hand against an old art deco lamp post, Jaejoong bit his lip to keep from crying out from the pain. A fire broke out under his kneecap and he struggled with the need to stop and rest or to continue with his lover.

Looking up, he spotted Yunho walking ahead, caught in an unseeing daze. Bracing himself, Jaejoong took stepped forward, forcing himself to continue. The burn started slowly, working up from his knee to the middle of his thigh then looping back down to his calf muscles. A steady anguish settled into the area, seizing up the muscle until it was nearly a ball but Jae pushed himself, his hair beaded with misting rain.

He made it another three blocks, jump skipping a few steps to catch up to Yunho’s longer stride. Showing no signs of slowing down, the young man kept silent, letting loose one shuddering sigh before crossing a busy street. A hair too slow, Jaejoong trotted after him and was nearly a pace behind when he felt something snap inside of his leg.

The Korean went down hard. Water splashed up around him when he hit the asphalt, his shoulder jarring on impact. The lights changed, red to green and a cacophony of horns started up as Jaejoong tried to stand. Pushing himself up onto his hands, he ducked his head when a taxi veered around him. Cars moved around him, some patiently slow while others gunned their engines as he shakily got to his feet, favouring his injured leg. Cast adrift in the middle of the crosswalk, Jaejoong stood helpless in the stream of metal and sound, unable to lurch the few feet to safety of the curb.

Strong arms grabbed his waist, supporting him as he stood. Yunho’s cap was gone, knocked away when he ran through the tight downtown crowd to reach the stranded singer. With his dark hair framing his face, his soulful eyes filled with remorse when he ducked his head down and lifted Jaejoong’s arm over his shoulder, helping him to the sidewalk.

The cement under his feet nearly made Jae weep with relief and he sagged against the other man’s tall body, letting Yunho drag him to the side of the building and out of the rain.

“Shit, you’re soaked through,” Yunho looked around, spotting a hole-in-the-wall ramen house a few doors down. “Come on, we need to get you something warm and I want to take a look at your knee.”

“You better get me into a love hotel then,” Jae teased around his tears. Every step sent new rings of fire outwards from his kneecap, the ripples searing up and down his leg. “You’re going to have to strip me down to my underwear and not a lot of ramen shops would think that’s good for business.”

“Pfah,” His lover scoffed, worry creasing his forehead. “Have you seen yourself? They’ll be selling tickets to people trying to through the door.”

His Japanese faltered when Yunho asked one of the waiters for help but a Korean woman came up from behind the kitchen wall, her round face beaming with pride when she spotted the two singers. Lapsing into a formal Seoul dialect, Yunho begged for access to one of their private rooms, politely requesting privacy for their meal and so he could look at Jaejoong’s injury.

He’d just gotten Jae into the wide divan of a small shuttered-off alcove when the woman reappeared holding two tall glasses of soju and cranberry juice. The waiter glumly dropped off a tray of panchan, the small dishes filled with a variety of Japanese delicacies and pickles. Apologizing for the lack of Korean foods, the woman bowed deeply and thanked the boys for their arrival, promising to check back on them once they’d had a chance to recover. Thick white dish towels were left on one of the chaises, their pristine and soft folds still wrapped with a band from the manufacturer.

“Heh, a Dong Bang fan in Tokyo and we find her shop,” Yunho grinned as he leaned Jaejoong carefully back on the shallow backed couch. “Hold onto my shoulders. I’m going to take your jeans off.”

“Can this wait until we get food?” Jaejoong complained, his hands covering Yunho’s when the man reached for the zipper pull of his jeans. “Yunnie-ah!”

“Lift!” Yunho tugged off the wet denim, carefully working them free of Jae’s legs. Taking one of the towels, he tossed it at his lover’s head. “Here, dry yourself off. Use a couple to cover yourself.”

Jaejoong barely had time to spread two of the towels over his lap when the shoji door slid open and the cook poked her head in. Handing Yunho a tied-off plastic bag of ice, she asked if they wanted ramen or something Korean. Telling the woman they’d like anything she wanted to cook, Yunho bowed his head several times and thanked her, sighing with relief when the door closed behind her.

“Here, hold the ice while I look at it.” Yunho carefully lifted Jae’s leg, noting the man’s wince when his knee bent slightly. “God, I’m sorry, baby. Why didn’t you yell at me?”

“Because you… needed to walk it off.” He hissed when the other man laid the last towel on his knee and gently placed the ice bag on the injured joint.

“No, next time, you have to tell me you’re hurting.” Stroking the damp hair back from Jae’s temple, Yunho crouched next to his lover. He worried at the bruises forming along Jae’s knee and the glimpse of one shaping up to a purple splotch on his upper arm where a car glanced its bumper against him. “You could have been killed.”

“Mostly, I’m soaked,” Jaejoong complained, his teeth shattering. “I know ice is good for it but I’m cold.”

“Drink,” Yunho tasted the soju cocktail, satisfied with its tart taste. “You’ll like this. Not too sweet. I’ll pour you some hot tea. That’ll get you warmed up.”

“If the soju doesn’t, the tea’s not going to help.” He sipped at the drink anyway, the rush of alcohol hitting his belly. Jaejoong didn’t know what time it was. Never one for watches, he depended on Yunho for that kind of information but the other man left his sturdy steel wristwatch behind in their room. Another press of Yunho’s fingers on his knee made him stiffen and his limbs jerked out with nervous pain. “Yunnie, ah… too soon yet. Let it go down.”

“She brought some aspirin. That will help with the swelling.”

“I’m not taking those with soju.” He complained, staring at the small drugstore packet of pills Yunho shook out into his hand.

“They’re not sleeping pills. They’re aspirin. Take them,” Yunho insisted. He waited until the other man swallowed the pills with a gulp of tea before inspecting the area again. Frowning, Yunho straightened up and slid over to sit besides Jaejoong, keeping the other man’s leg stretched out with his foot resting on the other divan. “Let’s see how it looks after we eat. If it’s still hurting badly after you rest it, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No! Manager-sshi will kill me.” Jae shook his head.

“No, Shizu-chan will not kill you. He’ll kill me for getting you hurt,” Yunho exhaled, puffing his cheeks, exasperated at being careless with the young man’s health. “I’m very sorry, Joongie-ah.”

“I should have said something when it first started to hurt,” He ducked his head in apology. “But I knew your father’s call… upset you.”

Yunho opened his mouth to answer when the door opened to let the cook in, her face creased with a wide smile. Ushering the waiter in, she introduced dish to the singers as if they were her children and waited as they politely tasted each one. Jaejoong smiled warmly when she offered him a car blanket, murmuring thankfully as Yunho tucked the fleece around his bare legs. The singer took a mouthful of everything offered to him, congratulating the woman on her cooking. She beamed, thanking them profusely as she shooed the waiter out of the alcove and shut the doors again.

Taking another mouthful of bulgogi, Jaejoong leaned into his lover’s warmth, chewing at the sweet-shoyu meat, glad to find tastes of home on his tongue. “This is good. God, so good. We’ll have to bring the others here.”

“She probably cooked this from her own food,’ Yunho said, guiding a spoon of rice into Jaejoong’s waiting mouth. “She couldn’t have had this ready in case some Koreans came in.”

“No,” The singer said, frowning slightly. “You’re right. We’ll have to send her a gift or something nice. To say thanks.”

“Too Asian, no?” Yunho teased, kissing a speck of sticky rice from Jae’s lips.

“Aish, someone might see!” Jae glanced nervously at the door.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” He used his thumb to wipe at the spot, rubbing the brief kiss in. “For being with me. Especially now.”

“Now. Whenever,” Jaejoong said with a shrug. “Always.”

“Yeah, I’m figuring that out,” Yunho replied, sneaking a smile at Jaejoong. “Eat something, Boo.”

They ate slowly, falling into a companionable silence as they picked through the panchan and each other’s food. A marbled tea quail egg became a choice prize, Yunho fishing it free with his spoon and laughing when Jaejoong flirted outrageously at him with a fluttering of his lashes.

“Open up,” Yunho ordered, plucking the egg from his spoon and holding it up for Jae to eat. The singer bit into the speckled surface, taking only half and leaving the rest for his lover. Grinning, Yunho popped the remaining half into his mouth, chewing on the salty treat. “I think I’m going to move in here. Will you come visit?”

“I thought you said you only would live someplace that I cooked for you?” Jae eyed him with a playful malevolence. “Now you’re leaving me for an older woman? Hah, she’s probably married too. Her husband and I will have to kill you.”

“If you know how to make these eggs, I’ll stay with you,” Yunho promised.

“Humph,” He mumbled around a mouthful of rice, taking a large piece of pickled daikon from a dish. Swallowing, he bit into the spiced radish. “Are we ever going to talk about your dad?”

“Aish, I’m eating,” Complaining, Yunho rolled his eyes and helped himself to more of the marinated meat. When Jaejoong refused to drop his gaze, he sighed, resigned to the topic. “What is there to talk about? He called and wanted me to tell Mother to come back to him.”

“Are you going to do it?” Jae pressed, putting his utensils down. “Are you going to do what your father wants?”

“No,” Yunho glowered at his food as if he could see his father’s face in the mix of meat, rice and peppers. “He thinks that if I ask her, she will say yes. He told me he’d forgive me and allow me contact with her again but that my sister was off-limits.”

“Fuck him,” Jae swore then apologized, contrite. “I’m sorry, Yunnie-ah. He is your father. I have no…”

“You have every right,” Yunho denied Jaejoong his apology, cutting the other man off. “Hyung… no.. Jung thinks that he can tell me who to love and when to love. I can’t live like that and I won’t live without you. He has to accept all of my relationships on my terms. From you to my mother then to my sister. I won’t be denied my family because of his hatreds. My mother and I agree on that. You are either a part of my life that my father accepts or I will no longer have a father.”

“Yunho! Don’t say that!” The filial ties were too strong to break casually and even estranged as Jaejoong was with his family, he still worked to regain their acceptance, sending notes and gifts that were sometimes returned. He hurt whenever a package bearing his hometown address arrived, unsure if it was something from a sister who remembered her only brother fondly or one of the others who felt Jae’s lifestyle was an affront to their family name. “He’s your father.”

“He is my mother’s husband,” Yunho corrected his lover. “He is not my father as long as he denies me my heart.”

Clasping his lover’s hands, the young man looked down, trying to gather his thoughts and explain to Jaejoong how he felt inside. Their culture demonized a son who walked away from his obligations, spinning moral lessons in nearly everything taught to them as children of foolish young men who turned their backs on their families. Often downtrodden and in despair, happiness was only restored once the son gave up his foolish ways and acknowledged his father’s wisdom by casting aside the temptation he’d been drawn into.

Looking up, Yunho saw the devotion in Jaejoong’s eyes, a shining willingness to sacrifice anything for Yunho and the young man swallowed hard, falling in love all over again.

“What my father is doing… is emotional terrorism,” Yunho said firmly. “He holds his love above my head and says that I will never have it unless I do what he says. If there is anything that I’ve learned in the past few years with you is how to love.”

“Eh?” Jae wrinkled his nose, fidgeting under the other man’s intense stare. His knee’s throbbing eased back but the flush of heat from Yunho’s touch inflamed other pulse points that he’d have a hard time hiding if the restaurant’s owner returned and came around to clear the dishes. “You taught me how to love, Yunnie-ah. No one… loved me before you.”

“Not true,” He replied. “Scarlet-nuna, she loves you.”

“That’s different,” The singer dismissed the objection with a flick of his fingers. “That’s not… love.”

“It is. For you, it is,” Yunho insisted. “For you, Joongie, you only know how to love one way. Fully. Completely. You throw yourself into your love like you do your music. It’s a constant stream of pleasure, joy, blues, life and everything. When you love someone, you celebrate who they are every day. Some days the only reason I want to wake up is because I know that when you see me, you’ll breathe life into me. It’s like I am soul-dead until your smile touches me. You’re like the sun on a night-drunk flower, Joongie-ah. All of us around you… we know love because you pour it on us like warm honey and it fills our hearts.”

“I need my father…not to love me like you do but to love me as you do.” He stole another kiss from Jae’s parted lips, keenly aware they could be discovered at any moment but he didn’t care. Yunho needed to have his lover’s taste in his mouth as he cracked apart the shell of pain his father had been determined to imprison him in.

“I don’t ask that he understand me or my choices. I don’t need him to embrace you in open arms and call you his son but what I do demand of him is that he acknowledges that you are in my life.” Pressing his mouth on Jae’s, Yunho breathed out a kiss for Jaejoong to keep. “I will hold nothing…not even the group… above you. I love the other members. I love them as my brothers but you, Kim Jaejoong, are my life and love. My eternal destiny, Joongie-ah.”
Tags: otrc 33, r, yunjae
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