Title: On The Red Couch ♥
Pairing: YunJae (with some YooSu and Min7en)
Chapter Rating: R
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.
The air in Korea was colder than Japan, brisk and cutting through Yunho’s jacket. He reached over to take Jaejoong’s hand, confident the driver’s attention was on the road instead of the passengers in the back seat. A ring around Jae’s finger winked at Yunho’s ownership, the white gold and diamond band a sign of their secret love.
“Do you think I could kiss you?” Yunho asked in Japanese. “Do you think he’d notice?”
“Eh?” Jae cocked his head, giving his lover a strange look. Whispering to Yunho in Korean, his breath tickled the other man’s ear. “Oh, no no, wrong word. Try… suu, maybe? People use it for slang. It means to breathe in or inhale, to suck… like a kiss.”
“That sounds too close to Susu,” He grumbled, shifting on the leather seat. “I don’t want to think of kissing you and find myself seeing Junsu. It would be wrong.”
Yunho leaned into the other man, looking at the hotel as it appeared around the bend. Elegant and modern, it sparkled with lights, glowing against Seoul’s skyline. Although they’d spent time in the hotel as lovers, it still resonated in Yunho’s heart as the place where his father turned away from him. Not even the memory of Jaejoong’s hot kisses could sear that pain from his heart.
“It will be alright,” Jae said gently. “We’ll be fine.”
“Stay with me, Jaejoong,” Yunho said.
“I’m here.” The singer tightened his grip on his lover’s hands, giving him a gentle squeeze.
“No, I mean, stay with me. Always.” Staring out of the window, the future loomed before Yunho and he saw Jaejoong’s ghost wafting through the possibilities. “I don’t want to hear any more discussion about how I will take a wife and leave you to the side. I am not going to live my life like that. Not without you. I will promise you this; no matter what happens in our lives, you will always come first. Even above the members. Even above my family.”
“You shouldn’t make that promise, Yunho.” Shaking his head, Jaejoong pressed his lips into a thin line. “And you should be quieter. The driver…”
“I don’t care if the driver hears,” Yunho responded. “We’ve been through too much together. I’m not going to let go. Not now. Not in the future. You better get used to seeing me in your life, Kim Jaejoong, because I’m not going to leave it.”
The driver cleared his throat, interrupting Jaejoong before he could speak. “We’re here, sirs. Let me get your luggage.”
The sudden trip meant hasty packing but the young men were used to shoving their lives into small spaces, leaving on a moment’s notice to somewhere far off. This trip meant coming home but the hurry had been the same. Let loose from their schedules for only a couple of days, the older members owed the other three an enormous favour, having left the brunt of interviews and radio appearances on their shoulders.
“I hope Yoochun’s practiced his Japanese,” Yunho said, tipping the driver. “They’re going to ask him the most questions just because he stumbles a lot.”
“Changmin will take care of it,” Jae laughed. “He is your majordomo, the baby-Yun. Gakkun said he saw Min on a show and was impressed by how old he is. For a while, he thought Susu-ah was Changmin because he acted so silly.”
“I’m not sure I like your Gakkun looking at our Min.” Yunho strolled into the hotel, nodding at the uniformed man holding open an enormous glass door.
“He’s not just our Min, Yunnie-ah,” Jae said with a laugh. “He’s Dong-Wook’s as well.”
The response on Yunho’s tongue died, burnt to ashes when he spotted his father rising from a chair in the bar area. He barely heard Jaejoong say that he’d take care of their room, and the touch of the other man’s hand between his shoulder blades spread a warm sweetness through his body, defeating the chill crackling over his heart. Unable to stop himself, he took a step forward towards his father then stalled, reminding himself that he would be met halfway at least. He wasn’t prepared at all for the sight of his father striding over the marble floor and then the feel of the man’s arm pull him into a quick, intense embrace.
“You look good,” His father rumbled, the low pitch of his voice nearly a match for Yunho’s singing pitch. Holding his son by the shoulders, he examined Yunho carefully. “Too thin. Don’t they feed you over there? Why are you so thin?”
“I’ve been trying to lose weight,” Yunho admitted, greeting his father with a slight bow of his head. The gesture was automatic, a courtesy bred in deep and it was returned, accompanied by a squeeze of the man’s fingers into Yunho’s upper arms. “I felt unattractive from eating poorly. I’m just eating smaller and better.”
“It looks like you aren’t eating enough,” Jung insisted, patting Yunho’s shoulders before letting him go. “Where is…um… the other one?”
“Kim Jaejoong?” Yunho strained to keep his voice even. “He is checking us in. Let me see if he needs anything. I will join you in the bar if you wish.”
“Of course,” Jung said, tilting his head up. Slightly shorter than his son, he still overpowered the room with a charismatic, dominating presence. “There is a private room in the lounge area. I have reserved it for us so we can talk without anyone overhearing.”
“I’ll ask the manager to take me there if you’d like to wait,” Yunho replied. He understood his father’s need for privacy but hiding Jae away from prying eyes rankled. Compromise, he reminded himself. This meeting was all about compromise.
Jaejoong was signing the final registration forms when Yunho joined him at the main desk. Greeting the hotel manager warmly, he took his keycard and slid it into the pocket of his suit jacket, smoothing down a wrinkle in the lapel. As a bellhop struggled to maneuver their luggage onto a rack, Yunho pulled Jae away from the small cluster of people around the desk.
“My father wants to talk down here. He’s reserved a room in the bar.” Yunho bent in close, nearly touching Jae’s cheek with his own. “Do you want me to go up with you or do you want to let them handle the luggage and come with me to the bar?”
“I think you should first talk to your father alone,” Jae whispered back. It was hard not to comfort the man with a touch. People watched the them, intent on stealing a few moments of their lives to take back to gossip on later. Recognizable to the average person in Korea, Jae realized how different their world was now that they were in Japan and were fighting to climb to the top once again.
“Are you sure?”
“Very,” Jae replied. “I think it’s important that you two discuss things openly. If you need to leave, then I will be waiting for you in the room. If you need me to come down, just call and I will join you but first, you must at least hear him. And he must hear you.”
The bar was as he remembered it. Not much had changed in the few years since he’d sat across his mother, drunk from whiskey and mourning the death of his familial relationships. A white-shirted man bowed and led him to a door. The room beyond was as elegantly appointed as the rest of the hotel, a long wide picture window affording a view of the city below.
Comfortable looking wingchairs were arranged around a table bursting with dishes of appetizers to pick at. Nearby on a Queen Anne buffet, a collection of crystal decanters sparkled with various amber and clear alcohols, the soft overhead lights catching on the glass’ facets.
Yunho’s father stood at the window, a short glass filled with what appeared to be whiskey in his hand. Ice cubes clinked pleasantly when he took a sip, his eyes fixed on the city outside of the hotel. Studying the man’s profile, Yunho saw the lines in his father’s skin, deep set crevices around his eyes and mouth. It was a shock to see age on the man’s face and the silver in his hair glistened under the lights, its creep much farther down on his father’s temples than Yunho remembered. There was a hunch to his shoulders as if an invisible weight pushed him forward and down, carrying something heavier than he’d expected to but shouldered none the less.
“Hello, Father,” Yunho said, giving the man a bow in greeting. Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the credenza, helping himself to a glass of whiskey. It took him a moment to find the sour mash brew, sniffing carefully at the other amber bottles until he found the fragrant charcoal filtered alcohol. Mixing it with a cold can of cola from the fridge below, he walked over to the chairs as his father settled in.
Sitting across of the man who’d shaped him, Yunho studied his father again, noticing the small cracks in the man’s armour. There was a spot of something on his shirt cuff, a light stain near the fastening link. Notably impeccable, the blemish was evidence of the absence of his wife. Yunho’s mother ran a tight household, never satisfied with good enough and demanding excellence from everyone, including the dry cleaners to washed her husband’s shirts. Whomever took up the household duties in his mother’s absence was clearly not up to the task.
But then, Yunho admitted baldly, if he had to run the group’s household, he’d be screaming for Jaejoong in a matter of minutes.
“I’m glad you could come meet me,” Jung said. “Will the other one be joining us?”
“Kim Jaejoong,” Yunho said, gritting his teeth. “You can call him by his name, Father. And no, Joongie thought we should have some time to talk alone.”
“Kim, then,” His father replied. “Are you… both doing well?”
“No.” Admitting troubles aloud was freeing although there was a spark of something unknown in his father’s eyes when he spoke. “We’re doing well together but the past few months have been… difficult.”
“I am glad that Netsuke was of use to you,” The man said, moving a dish of spicy tofu towards Yunho. “Here, eat. Something healthy at least but flavourful.”
“Thank you.” Picking a piece of the tofu out with a pair of steel chopsticks, he chewed the morsel, washing the heat down with a sip of chilled drink. “She was helpful. We were able to get things to rights because of her help.”
“She told me that she offered to sleep with you.” He gave his son a calculating look. “That was not my doing. She told me she found you attractive but that you were… not what she imagined my son to be.”
Forestalling the conversation, Yunho tried a piece of fishcake, murmuring at the sweetened taste. “How is that? How am I not your son?”
“She thought you would be… harder,” Jun replied. “More… ruthless. I told her that you had other things to consider besides your own wants and needs.”
“Ah, much unlike you then,” Yunho said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted saying them. The hurt in his father’s eyes was small, a flash of pain that disappeared under his rigid control. Remembering what Jaejoong said about being more careful with his words, he added. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. We’re here to talk…to compromise.”
“It is understandable.” Jung nodded. “I am having a hard time accepting him in your life. Even though I can guess how much you think he means to you.”
“Not I think, Father. How much he means to me.” Yunho turned his glass, watching the melting ice cubes swirl in his whiskey-cola. “I would give up everything to be with him.”
“You have,” His father reminded him.
“No, not everything,” Yunho responded. “I still have my career and my friends. My mother and sister are now a part of my life so my family is present, even if not intact. And most of all, I have Jaejoong by my side.”
“You still consider him yours?” Jung’s eyebrows lifted, wrinkling his forehead. “Even if he had sex with another man? What was that man’s name? Kimura? Even with that?”
“He didn’t sleep with Kimura, Father.” Yunho kept his temper tight, reminding himself that gossip had a way of changing a story as it worked through the grapevine. Keeping to honesty, Yunho exhaled, reminding his nerves that he was in control. “Kimura tried to rape him. He manipulated Jaejoong into a corner and tried to have sex with him.”
“Did he lead him on? Your Kim. I’ve seen how he… acts with other men,” Jung said with a shrug. “He is …provocative.”
“No one is so provocative that they deserve to have someone push themselves onto them.” Yunho clenched the arms of the chair, telling himself to calm down. His temper raged, pounding at the thin glass of his control. He could feel himself cracking and his legs were tense, as if willing him to leap to his feet and stride from the room. Instead, he took another sip of his drink and spoke, “Jae is the only reason I am here. He urged me to meet with you… to come to terms with you.”
“What terms can we come too, Yunho?” His father leaned forward, crossing his hands at his wrists. “You are with a man, Yunho and a singer of a group of men who sell their bodies on camera. How much farther away can you get from where I wanted you to be?”
“I lead my group and no, we’re not whores,” Yunho replied. “Can’t you see how hard we work? How much we’ve accomplished?”
“I see your faces on the sides of buildings and I think; how shameful for our family,” Jung admitted. “Your mother was… is very proud. She cuts out articles and prints things from the internet about your group. She puts what she finds in a book with pictures of you…of you and your...I don’t know what to call him. Those books were one of the things she took with her when she left.”
“She accepts Jaejoong, Father,” Yunho said. “And you can call him my lover or my boyfriend. Or just Jaejoong.”
“I can’t call him your… lover,” His father said. “That word is too… intimate.”
“We are intimate…”
“I don’t want to hear about those things,” Jung interrupted. “None of those things.”
“Then let’s talk about something we can agree on,” Yunho replied. “Something like… our family.”
“What is there to talk about? You are with a man, an uneducated street whore…”
“I am telling you to stop right there,” He warned his father, holding up his hand. The band on his finger caught the light, silvering his resolve.
Turning his palm towards his father, Yunho displayed the ring proudly. “This… is a symbol I share with Jaejoong. My uneducated street whore is a better man than you’ll ever be, Father. He knows how to love and how to give of himself and is willing to sacrifice anything for my happiness. I’ve earned that love. And now, I realize that I deserve that type of love. Can you, a man who sits across of me without a wife, a daughter or even a son, say the same?”