Title: The Captor

Pairing: YunJae

Rating: NC-17

Genre: I’m not sure. But there will be smut. :D

Chapter: 1 of 3

Summary: Jaejoong finds himself captive in North Korea. His life, and death, is in the hands of one soldier…

A/N: Vaguely inspired by my incredible trip to the DMZ, as well as by a great 2008 documentary on North Korea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Captor

1

“Hey. Hey. Wake up.”

Jaejoong opened his eyes and groaned, his body stiff from sleeping in an upright position.

“We’re landing.”

He leaned over his friend to peer out the window. There it was. Pyongyang. Capital city of perhaps, for people like them, the most dangerous country in the world. Involuntarily, he shivered.

“Can you believe it?” Junsu nearly squealed, turning sparkling eyes on him. “Can you believe we’re here? In North Korea?”

Jaejoong frowed. “I can believe it, alright.”

“How many people can say they’ve been here? Jaejoong, we’re going to be famous.”

The plane jostled them both as it finally landed. “Sure. They’ll probably confiscate the camera at the airport, anyway. How are you going to make your world-famous documentary then?”

A grin. “Don’t worry about that. They can’t escape my charm. Just look at the Chinese.”

Despite himself, Jaejoong half-smiled. At the current state of the world, the only way to get into North Korea was to bribe the Chinese. Junsu had managed to do that just fine, and the two were granted passage for a much smaller fee than they had anticipated.

One hour later, just as Junsu had predicted, the two friends found themselves standing on North Korean soil accompanied by three “escorts,” their camera snug in Jaejoong’s pack.

Within another hour they arrived at the hotel. At the door to their room, an important-looking man waited for them with a key in his hand.

As soon as they stopped in front of him, he began to speak.

“Do not leave this room. Do not video tape anything. Do not attempt to make phone calls or contact others in any way without written permission. Wait here until noon. We will escort you to a most delicious North Korean-style lunch when we are ready.”

And with that, he opened the door and passed the key to Junsu before leaving.

The two friends exchanged stunned glances. One of them broke out in a smile, and soon both were suppressing giggles.

“Ahh, where in the world are we?” Jaejoong said, plopping onto his back on the bed, still smiling. This was exciting, he’d give Junsu that.

Urgent hands shook him by the shoulders. “We’re going to escape.”

“We’re… what?!”

Those eyes that were never quite without that mischievous sparkle were boring into his. “Come on. We’ve got a documentary to make. One that shows the real North Korea. What do you think we’re going to see on this ‘tour’ they’ve got planned for us that hasn’t already been filmed?”

Jaejoong sat up. “Junsu. We could get killed.”

“We’re not going to get killed. Remember, the world’s a much safer place than the media would have us all believe.”

“…….”

“That’s what I thought. Now let’s go!”

With Jaejoong muttering increasingly creative profanities under his breath, the two tiptoed through the halls, out a door, and finally some distance into the trees that surrounded the building. Jaejoong’s heart raced, but no one came after them. Perhaps Junsu had the right idea after all. Maybe the country really could do nothing more than threaten.

“Turn on the camera.”

Jaejoong dug the thing out of his pack and pointed it toward his friend. He turned it on and began recording.

“Ready.”

Junsu began to excitedly narrate their first day’s adventure, and Jaejoong smiled as he watched him on the miniature screen. The other man began to move farther into the trees, still talking, and Jaejoong followed, careful not to trip over the brush as he concentrated on filming.

Suddenly, on the small screen, he saw some movement not far in front of Junsu. He slightly lowered the camera to peer ahead, and his heart sank.

A dozen or so soldiers were making their way directly at them. And they were heavily armed. “Junsu,” he whispered urgently. His friend fell silent. He had seen them, too.

Jaejoong’s heart pounded. He grabbed his friend’s arm to make a run for it when suddenly a bullet hit the ground right in front of his feet.

They had been spotted.

The nearest soldier quickly closed the distance between them. “Move and the next one will be in your head.”

Everything happened so fast. One moment they were standing, frozen, with the soldiers advancing on them, and the next they were bound, gagged, and riding at gunpoint in the back of a vehicle.

After what seemed like an eternity, the car stopped in front of a group of dreary-looking buildings. Jaejoong guessed it was an army base. Quickly and efficiently, the two friends were shoved indoors and onto hard chairs beside a wall in a small room.

Jaejoong met Junsu’s eyes. They were sparkling for a very different reason now. Don’t cry.

They waited.

It was a long time before anyone took note of them again. Tensions seemed to run high as soldiers and officers talked in the halls in loud voices. There was some sort of commotion right outside their room. Jaejoong tried to pick one or two voices out from the jumble and focus on what they were saying. It was definitely something about a war. Could it be? Did North Korea finally go to war with the rest of the world? And now, of all times?

Jaejoong vowed to murder Junsu once they were out of this.

Finally an officer and the soldier who captured them entered the room. The first thing the officer did was order the soldier to remove their binds and gags. Of course. What good would running or screaming do here, in the middle of a military base?

Jaejoong glanced at the soldier’s nametag when the man knelt in front of him. Jung Yunho.

“Who are you?” the officer demanded.

“W-we are South Korean—“ Junsu began.

“That’s what I thought. It would have been better for us if you were American, but, you’ll have to do.”

Jaejoong and Junsu exchanged glances.

“Which one?” the soldier asked.

“That one.” The officer motioned towards Jaejoong.

“Up,” the soldier commanded, gun once again pointed unceremoniously in his face.

Before he had time to react he was shoved toward the door, Junsu’s pleading eyes following him out of the room.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” Jaejoong demanded. He very urgently wanted to go back and hold his friend.

The officer walked brusquely ahead of him. “You’re going to be our sacrifice, to put it bluntly.”

They walked some distance into a field beside the base. They came upon a bag on the ground. The officer knelt and pulled a camera out, one that looked suspiciously like Jaejoong’s.

“Hey—“

“Thanks for this. It’s perfect,” the officer said. He turned to Jaejoong with an almost sincere expression on his face. “I’m sorry I have to do this. But you must understand. We are at war now, and we must show the rest of the world that we will not tolerate violence toward our nation. Please know that your death will be for the greater good.”

Jaejoong’s heart seemed to stop. He became dizzy. “… W-.. what??” He vaguely watched the officer turn the camera on and point it at him.

“Please don’t try to run. It will only make for a poorer video. Jung Yunho, I’m ready.”

The soldier lifted his gun once more. Jaejoong’s jaw became slack. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more: faint, fall to his knees and beg for mercy, fight, run… what?

“Come on now, I said I’m ready.”

The soldier hesitated.

Suddenly, the three of them fell hard to the ground as the earth seemed to shake. Jaejoong’s ears rang painfully, debris raining upon him. What the hell is going on?? And then, long moments of silence.

He was the last to get back on his feet, the soldier and officer already standing, staring, eyes wide and terrified.

The base. It was gone. Completely destroyed. Jaejoong looked to the sky and saw a plane in the distance.

Oh my god. It was a bomb. They had been bombed. Oh my god.

The officer immediately began to make frantic phone calls on his cellular. The soldier, drilled in disasters, stood unmoving, waiting for orders.

Oh my god. Jaejoong felt the color drain from his face. Junsu is in there. This only happened in movies. Junsu… Just hold on, I’m coming… Oh god—

“Junsu!!” Jaejoong screamed, heavy legs remembering how to move again. He began to run toward the ruins, the burnt rubble where that small room had just been, and those chairs against the wall, and Junsu’s eyes, begging him not to leave him alone—

Iron arms wrapped around him, holding him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Let me go!!” Jaejoong cried, writhing, his eyes now nearly blinded by tears.

“I am sorry for your loss.” If it were any situation but this one, maybe he would have noticed that the soldier meant it. “But there is nothing you can do. Please, stay here.”

Jaejoong stopped struggling. After a moment, the soldier let go.

My friend is dead. He wiped the tears from his eyes. And they are going to kill me. He waited until he heard the soldier step slightly back from him, giving him space. Fuck this shit. I’m coming back for you, Junsu. He noted the exact spot where his friend must have been when the bomb hit.

And he made a run for it, this time faster, his legs responding to the command instantly. He narrowly avoided tripping over rubble under his feet. He tried his best to ignore the pieces of flesh on the ground.

Just before he reached that spot a hard body smacked into him from behind, sending them both tumbling to the ground, bits of wood and brick jutting painfully into his flesh.

Immediately he was flipped over and punched, hard, in the face.

“Unngh—“

“I told you to stay.”

What kind of monster are you? He wanted to spit in the soldier’s face, but instead another painful groan escaped his throat.

The officer caught up with them. Jaejoong was left on the ground.

“Jung Yunho. You must take this man to our base near the border.” Jaejoong wondered if he could make another run for it while they were talking. He slowly sat up. It hurt like hell. “We can no longer use his death for our purposes here. Look at this place,” the officer said, motioning at the destruction with his arm.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“No. We are at war now. I have urgent duties elsewhere.”

“But I see only one vehicle that hasn’t been destroyed. How—“

“I don’t know. Walk. Just get him there. Soldier, this is an order. You know full well the consequences of disobedience.”

Jaejoong rose shakily to his feet.

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.

The officer left the two men alone. Jaejoong stared at the back of the soldier’s head.

“Let’s go,” the man said, starting to walk.

Jaejoong stared at him in disbelief. Did he expect him to just follow him? Follow him to his death?

The soldier stopped and turned around, eyes boring into his. “I won’t kill you. That was not my order. But I will incapacitate you and carry you the entire way if I have to.”

Fine, Jaejoong thought, the memory of Junsu giving him courage, the knowledge of his death making him reckless. I’ll play your country’s little game. But if you think I’m not going to fight back, you’re wrong.

He looked toward the sun in the sky. It was barely past noon.

The soldier started to walk again, and slowly, Jaejoong followed.

Title: Phone Call of Death
Pairing: Yunjae/Jaeho
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut, comedy.
Summary: An unknown caller interrupts a very important moment.
A/N: A little while ago I asked for some fic requests, and one prompt was, "What do you do when an unknown caller calls you?" There were SO many possibilities here, but I just could NOT get this particular fic out of my head, so here it is. :-p Hehehehe.










PHONE CALL OF DEATH

Jaejoong gasps into the warm lips pressed against his own.

“Do you want me to stop?” Yunho whispers into his mouth, breath hot, body pressed hard against Jaejoong indicating that the question is just a formality, really, and that he absolutely has no intention of stopping.

“No,” Jaejoong breathes, head thrown back into the pillows, the tender skin of his neck naked, exposed.

Yunho kisses a hot trail down that creamy neck, eliciting little gasps and mewls from the man beneath him.

“You like that?” he asks, voice low and thick.

“Yes…” Jaejoong writhes on the sheets, hands involuntarily running down his own body, one palm kneading the hardness in his pants.

Yunho grabs the smaller man’s wrists in anger and pins them above his head with one hand.

“No,” he growls. “This—” he indicates Jaejoong’s body by running his free hand down his chest and to the inside of his thigh, “—is mine. Not yours.”

Jaejoong’s eyes widen at the other man’s ferocity, but he has no time to think as his lips are assaulted, hard, arms wrapping around him in an iron grip. When his clothes start getting ripped off by deft and determined hands, Jaejoong feels so completely helpless at the mercy of the hot, sweaty man above him that he nearly comes on the spot.

Once both are naked Yunho wastes no time in manually flipping Jaejoong onto his stomach. He hastily slathers his cock with a lubricant and gives the other man just enough time to lift himself onto his knees and elbows before slamming, hard, into that tight, perfect ass.

Jaejoong screams; it hurts so, so much, but he loves it, it makes his cock weep with precum, and in no time he is begging Yunho to go faster, harder.

“You like that, huh?” Yunho murmurs, and Jaejoong tries to breathe to keep from coming at the sound of that voice. “You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” His thrusts pick up speed and Jaejoong’s vision starts to darken. “You like when I fuck your pretty little ass, fuck you ‘til you bleed, like a little whore—“

Riiiiiiing.

Yunho slows the speed of his thrusts and Jaejoong turns his head to glare at the phone on the nightstand.

Riiiiiiing.

“Nngh, Yunho,” Jaejoong breathes, “Don’t stop.” He reaches an arm and presses somewhere on the phone, which is as much concentration as he’s capable of at the moment as the other man continues to thrust into him, and hopes for the best.

The ringing stops. Yunho breathes a sigh of relief, and suddenly he can feel that familiar tightening in his abdomen, his mind going numb as the sensations of his body about to orgasm begin to block out everything else around him.

He doesn’t recognize his own voice as he moans, loudly, obscenely. “Jaejoong, I’m gonna—“

“Hello?” a voice says in English.

Instantly the two men freeze in position.

“Hello? May I speak to Mr. Kim Jaejoong?”

Jaejoong cranes his neck to look up at Yunho.

Yunho groans in realization and slaps him in the head. “You idiot, you put the phone on speaker!”

Jaejoong’s face flushes. “Well what do you expect from me when you’re fucking my brains ou—“

“Um, excuse me? Is this Mr. Kim Jaejoong?” the voice continues in English.

Jaejoong looks at Yunho. Yunho shrugs.

I don’t speak English, Jaejoong mouths. Do something.

Another slap to the head. Do I look like I speak English to you?

“Ummm…” Jaejoong starts in the direction of the phone. “I… am… “ He hisses at Yunho, “How do you say “busy” in English??”

“Fuck if I know, just hang up on the bastard!”

“But what if it’s important!?”

The voice from the phone continues, “Kim Jaejoong, you are hereby under arrest for attempted murder earlier this week. Please come to your local police station and turn yourself in. Also, if you would be so kind as to come in wearing those tight ripped jeans of yours and that low cut v-neck shirt, the police officers would greatly appreciate it. Did you catch all that?”

Yunho’s softened erection pitifully slides out of Jaejoong of its own accord, and Jaejoong is so confused he momentarily forgets his own name.

“What do you think he said?” Yunho asks.

Jaejoong blinks. “Um… something about… French maid outfits? Oh, fuck…” He takes a deep breath and in his best English says, “We-uhh… ENGLISHIE… NO!”

Greasy sniggering and eukyangyangs suddenly erupt from the phone, and two seconds later Yunho is flying towards it, pure murder in his eyes.

“YOOCHUN!!! YOU MOTHERFUCKING GREASY BASTARD, I’LL KILL YOU!!! JUNSU STOP LAUGHING, YOU FUCKING DOLPHIN—“

“Oh, Jaejoong, Jaejoong,” Junsu’s voice imitates from the phone. “I’m gonna c—“

And then Jaejoong grabs the phone, chords and all, and chucks it out the open window, Junsu’s and Yoochun’s voices growing fainter and fainter as the device plummets twelve stories to the hard concrete below.  

Title: It Was Nice to Have Met You (Because this song. Please listen if you have a chance. It's a gorgeous instrumental.)
Pairing: Yunjae / Jaeho
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Usually I like summaries, but I think this time it would ruin the story. Don't worry, you'll catch the drift very quickly.

A/N: Ask me about lucid dreaming! ^_^

Jaejoong walks through a deserted field. It’s cold, and dark, and raining, and he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to be doing.

The air around him is heavy; it almost feels like he’s wading through water rather than walking.

He’s lost something, he’s sure of it. He keeps walking straight ahead, looking for it.

Suddenly out of the darkness he sees an object. It’s dark and unfocused, but as he narrows his eyes the object becomes clearer.

It’s an umbrella.

He turns in circles and suddenly he is surrounded by umbrellas, just floating in the air, silent and strangely inviting.

He reaches a heavy arm through the thick darkness and takes hold of the nearest one.

And then his feet are no longer touching the ground, and he’s flying away.

This is strange, he muses with a smile. It feels good.

He doesn’t see much as he flies; more darkness and indistinguishable shapes that might be rolling hills, mountains…

Then the fabric of the darkness starts to gently rip open below him, and he can see verdant trees and flowers, a secret world sparking up at him, amused, wanting to play.

He lets go of the umbrella and floats downward, away from the night, the green grass and leaves and little winding pathways crisp and vivid.

His feet soundlessly touch the ground, and he starts walking in the first direction he faces because there’s something he must find.

Lights shine through the trees and flowers grow toward him as he walks, inviting him to smell them, to touch them.

A strange, haunting music gently fills the air. He doesn’t so much hear it as feel it, the notes saturating his body, his soul. He thinks maybe the music will make him grow wings.

He sees a wooden sign up ahead, and the text is blurry, swimming, uncooperative. When he steps in front of it he wraps his fingers around either side of it, willing it to be still. It obliges for a fleeting moment, just long enough for him to read:

YOU ARE DREAMING

“What?”

If wooden signs could laugh, this one would be roaring with it. The text changes:

GO ON!

“I—Oh my god…”

Jaejoong looks all around him and the trees, the flowers, the grass, the lights, everything is moving more than before, almost dancing, rejoicing for his lucidity.

I’m dreaming. He feels a strange mixture of nervousness and giddiness bubble somewhere in his stomach. This is… strange...

And then he starts laughing, because this is wonderful, and the woods around him are laughing with him, and then he’s effortlessly running, light-headed, knowing that here he can do anything, and that he will find what he’s looking for, he’s sure of it!

A cluster of trees in front of him opens up, and there he sees a pool of water, sparkling like it’s made of crystals.

And in the water is a man, bathing in the diamond drops, and when he sees Jaejoong he stands naked and walks, floats, toward him.

As Jaejoong thinks that this man must be an angel, a set of sheer golden wings slowly grows from his back.

“Oh…”

The man is now a breath away from his face, and when he speaks his voice is low and soft, the sound curiously lagging behind the movement of his lips.

“You don’t know me, but I love you,” he says, the notes of his voice like music, tingling Jaejoong’s skin.

And because this is a dream Jaejoong doesn’t question the overwhelming feeling of love growing inside of him, enveloping him, making him want to close his eyes and float away into the clouds.

He is suddenly so happy, and he wants to cry. He reaches tentative fingers and touches the man’s face. In a world of magic and illusions, where everything is changing, and nothing is predictable, the skin underneath his fingertips feels so real.

He is rewarded with a smile, with a hand wrapping around his own.

Jaejoong slowly runs his fingertips down the man’s cheek, his neck, down his chest, below his hips… He strokes him like an instrument, musical gasps and mewls escaping red lips as the right notes are touched.

Jaejoong wraps his arms around his neck, fingers brushing against fairy wings, and kisses him, with all that he’s worth in this dream land, wondering if maybe his love could somehow make this beautiful figment of his imagination real.

Suddenly an alien noise shocks them apart. The woods shudder, and the lights grow dim. The noise sounds again, again, insistent, ruthless, and the man’s eyes grow wide.

Don’t leave me, he mouths, reaching, even as Jaejoong is being pulled backwards, the man and the woods and the colors disappearing, a blur of fading colors…

And then he opens his eyes and slams his alarm off, hard, his mind momentarily refusing to acknowledge who and where he is.

“Oh, god,” he murmurs, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck.”

It was just a dream, and now it’s gone.

He stares at the ceiling. He feels empty.

 

 

 

 

He goes to work.

He rushes home.

He goes to bed at an early hour, happier at that moment than he’d felt all day, impatient to fall asleep and meet that man again.

He wakes, dawn arriving too early, and remembers no dreams.

He goes to work.

He rushes home.

Rinse, repeat.

Jaejoong lives like this for thirty days before he begins to accept that his behavior is not healthy, and he makes a conscious decision to live in the real world, not in his dreams.

His life starts to get better, and he goes out with friends, and he goes to sleep later, and soon enough he doesn’t mind the dawn so much.

 

 

 

 

One day he stops for coffee on his way to work, not because it’s what he usually does, but because he just really feels like it this day.

He enters a quaint coffee shop and places his order, taking a bar seat in front of the window as he waits.

“Excuse me, could you pass the sugar?”

Jaejoong knows that voice.

He turns and sees him, him, sitting next to him.

This world is… strange…

His palms feel clammy, and he thinks he might just start choking on his own saliva.

He wills his hand not to shake as he reaches for the sugar and passes it to him.

“Thank you,” the man says pleasantly, turning back to his newspaper, stirring in the sugar as he reads.

Jaejoong watches him.

You don’t know me, but I love you. He wants to say it, to repeat the man’s own words.

But this is real life, not a dream, and he only has one chance to not screw it up.

“What is your name?” he finally manages.

The man looks up from his paper and extends his hand with a smile. “Yunho.”

“I’m Jaejoong.” When their hands meet his eyes begin to sting. You are real.

“Nice to meet you, Jaejoong.”

Title: Help I'm Alive (Because I love this song.)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: YunJae/JaeHo
Genre: A little bit of smut, some fluff, errr... ummm... *scratches head*
Warnings: Long one-shot is long. 3637 words.
Summary: AU. Jaejoong is a 22 year old teacher, and Yunho is a 15 year old student. Love is an idiot.

A/N: This fic is very close to my heart. I've been feeling down lately, and this fic just poured out of me. Based on a true story, and all DBSK characters are based on real people (although the genders don't match for some). Everything up until the graduation ceremony actually happened. You can get a glimpse into what it's like to teach in Korea, if you're interested. I'll be happy to answer any questions, as well. :-)










HELP I'M ALIVE

And there he is, a recent college graduate, freshly arrived in his parents’ mother country of South Korea on not much more than a whim, to teach English.

Jaejoong finds his future boss waiting for him at the airport, holding a sign with his name written on it in big black letters. There’s no turning back now.

The drive to his apartment is long and filled with uncomfortable silences, but he does learn that his boss’s name is Park Yoochun, he is in his mid thirties, and he has a wife and two kids.

After what seems like ages he finally arrives to his new apartment. It’s empty and not what he would call new or clean, but he breathes a sigh of relief when Park Yoochun leaves him for the night.

He throws a borrowed blanket and pillow onto the floor and lies down wearily, for the moment not minding the hardness of the surface or the foreign sounds and smells coming from the nightlife outside his window.

He closes his eyes. This is the end of the life he left behind in the States and the beginning of an adventure he had only ever dreamed of having.

He smiles and counts three car horns and four drunken shouts outside his window, and then he is asleep.

 

 

 

 

“Do you speak Korean?”

“No,” he finds himself repeating for the umpteenth time the next morning. His boss had dragged him to his new middle school bright and early, and now he is being introduced to people whose names he is sure to forget five minutes after they are gone.

He sits in his new shared office and twiddles his thumbs, occasionally standing to greet new faces, waiting patiently when his co-workers ramble about him at lightning speed in Korean…

He puts more effort to committing a certain Park Junsu’s name to memory. The shorter man stands near him, eyes focused on the ground, while Park Yoochun introduces him with a laugh:

“This is Park Junsu. He used to be the prettiest teacher in school, but now he is second to you.”

“Um, wow,” is all Jaejoong has to say to that.

After a while he is dragged to lunch before he is allowed to go home. There he experiences steel chopsticks for the first time and realizes that no amount of practice with wooden ones could have prepared him for this.

At the end of the day he reflects that he looks Korean on account of his parents but can’t speak the language or use their chopsticks, and he certainly doesn’t understand a thing about the culture.

Well. At least day one is over.

 

 

 

 

He sits alone in the office, most of the teachers and students gone on a field trip for the next three days. He stares at his computer screen with his chin supported in his palms, wondering how the hell a Business major is supposed to plan five English lessons by the end of the week.

There’s a knock on his door and he shuffles his way across the room to open it.

On the other side stand five boys, from the oldest class of the school by the looks of them. They halt their boisterous chatter for a long moment upon seeing his face, and then it starts up again with renewed vigor.

There’s a lot of jumping around and yelling and laughing and more Korean rambling, and by the end of it Jaejoong makes out that they are indeed from the oldest class, aged about fifteen, and they barely speak a word of English.

“What’s your name?” he finally asks the bunch, a forced smile plastered on his face. He wonders if all the students will react like this to him, and how long his energy will last.

The apparent leader of the group is the first to make an attempt at English.

“My-uh… name-uh… IS-UH… Yunho!!”

Congratulations. I won’t remember that.

The others list their names in turn, and after an eternity the group leaves to terrorize someone else.

 

 

 

 

The next two days are much the same. The boys come back to see him and babble at him in a language he doesn’t understand, and he has half of only one lesson planned by the time lunch comes around.

At lunch on the third day he meets the biggest culture shock of his life, Shim Changmin.

The man dances nervously around him in circles, giggling and averting his gaze. “You are so gorgeous!” he exclaims in near perfect English.

Jaejoong can’t help but grin like an idiot at this man who looks to be about in his mid thirties, like many of the teachers he’s met, but who acts like some sort of young ball of sunshine.

The first time Changmin shoves him, hard, out of the blue, Jaejoong can only silently gape and wonder where the hell this person came from.

But after repeated attacks and giggles Jaejoong recovers enough to reciprocate, and he thinks this may just turn out to be the best friend he has ever had.

Park Junsu walks in on him rubbing his arm and grimacing. “I see you’ve met Changmin,” he says, smiling shyly for the first time.

“Oh!” Jaejoong starts. “You speak English!”

“Yes. I mean, no. Not very well…” Then he switches to Korean and talks for a full minute before Jaejoong realizes that the man is talking to himself and no one else.

Junsu pauses and the two stare at each other for a second when suddenly an enormous eukyangkyang is unleashed at his face, and Jaejoong thinks that Korea might turn out to be a wonderful place after all.

 

 

 

 

By the end of his first two weeks teaching, Jaejoong develops nightmares of students screaming “JAEJOONG TEACHER!! HI!!! HI TEACHER!!!!!” but is otherwise shocked at just how well he is fitting into life and work in Korea.

After three weeks he is introduced to his after-school class that he is to have twice a week. He walks in on the first day and is greeted with applause, just like in every other class, and he immediately recognizes one student as being the leader of the group of five that came to his office his first few days on the job.

“Teacher. Teacher,” the boy starts. Instantly Jaejoong can tell that this is one of those popular, loud ones in school. “You so gorgeous.”

His inappropriate comment is rewarded with shy giggles from his classmates, and Jaejoong wonders just how much trouble this one is going to give him in the months to come.

“What is your name?” Jaejoong asks the boy for the second time since meeting him.

“What?”

“What. Is. Your. Name?”

“Yunho.”

“Yoon.. “

“Yun. Ho. Yunho. Yunho.”

“Yunho.”

 

 

 

 

 

One day after class the boy sends a text message in broken English to his phone:

i want see you

Jaejoong stares, thinking that this is getting into dangerous and highly inappropriate territory. He replies with a short:

that’s nice

Five minutes later his phone beeps again, and the next message reads:

i am every day every night thing about you

Jaejoong swallows hard and chucks the damn thing into his bag.

 

 

 

 

 

In the weeks that follow the boy called Yunho becomes noticeably quieter during class, working harder, attention always on Jaejoong.

A lot of attention on Jaejoong.

Many other students ogle the teacher with lovey-dovey eyes and giggle and blush in his presence, but there is something more intense, more serious, more sincere about Yunho’s attention.

“You know that kid, Jung Yunho?” Jaejoong asks Changmin one day.

“Oh god, yes.”

“I think he’s my favorite student.”

Changmin’s jaw drops and the comment earns him a punch in the shoulder.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Jaejoong’s cheeks flush. “What—why? What did I say?”

“Jung Yunho is famous in this school. Famous for being—how do you say in English—a bully. He’s a bully, nothing more. All the students are scared of him, and he’s every teacher’s worst nightmare.”

Jaejoong stares and wonders if they could possibly be talking about the same boy. “But he’s the best student in my class! He always works so hard, and he helps me with anything I need, and—“

“He must really like you, then,” Changmin says, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Jaejoong isn’t sure what to say, and then the other man adds quietly:

“You know, one day, he will show you his true colors. I think some day he will betray you.”

 

 

 

 

Next class Jaejoong decides to practice a new word he learned in Korean on Yunho.

“Sarangheyo.”

The class oohs and aahs as if it’s a miracle that a foreigner could possibly learn something in their language.

Yunho turns those eyes that always sparkle these days on him and says softly, “Saranghamnida.”

During the remainder of the period Jaejoong forces the class to choose English names because he cannot for the life of him remember more than a handful of their Korean ones.

Jaejoong asks each student in turn for their chosen names, and when he gets to Yunho he has no idea how significant this moment will turn out to be, how he will remember this day for the rest of his life.

“What’s your English name?” he asks.

The boy thinks silently for a moment and then replies, in shockingly perfect English, and in a soft voice that he uses only with Jaejoong now:

“Just call me Yunho.”

A shy smile, and to his horror Jaejoong is blushing in front of his students, and he quickly walks away and busies himself with something else, anything else, to try to cover it up…

 

 

 

 

From then on, everything changes.

Jaejoong starts to notice that Yunho is already quite tall for his age.

He starts to wonder what the boy’s hair would feel like in his fingers.

He starts to notice his eyes, his skin, his lips…

He sits shoulder to shoulder with Junsu at the other man’s office, looking through digital pictures of staff and students, and suddenly he sees one of Yunho and blurts: “That’s my favorite student!” like some kind of teenager. Junsu laughs at him and emails that one to him, and Jaejoong somehow feels like he is betraying Junsu’s innocence.

He comes home that evening and opens the photo and stares.

I like him.

His palms begin to sweat.

I like a student.

His heart begins to race.

I like a boy.

He laughs. It sounds a little hysterical, but he doesn’t care.

Am I a pedophile?

His eyes begin to sting. He wants to cry.

Am I a pedophile? No. That can’t be. I’m a good person…

Am I gay? No… no, no, no. That doesn’t sound right. I just like Yunho. That’s all.

I’m a good person…

He buries his head in his hands and weeps and weeps until he falls asleep at his desk.

 

 

 

 

“You know, Park Yoochun dated a student once.”

“What!!?”

Jaejoong and Changmin sit in the lobby of a movie theater, for once holding hands instead of hitting each other.

“Yes. I saw them together once… But no one knows. If he finds out that I know, he will kill me. You must not tell anyone.”

Jaejoong’s face loses color, flushes red, and back again. He can only think of Yunho.

“That’s horrible. That’s horrible. He—He’s… That… That’s a terrible thing to do. I didn’t know he could do something like that…”

A hint of sadness creeps into Changmin’s eyes, and he says softly, “Maybe they were in love.”

“In love??!” Some people turn to look at Jaejoong and he fights to keep his voice under control. “That student was just a kid. It doesn’t matter what they think they felt. She was just a child.”

Changmin doesn’t say any more on the matter, and when Jaejoong showers that night he strokes himself under the hot water and thinks of Yunho, and when he comes he bites into the flesh of his arm to keep from screaming.

 

 

 

 

“He loves you, you know,” a girl tells him softly one day in the hallway.

“Yes, I know.” Jaejoong tries to smirk even as he is inwardly collapsing.

“Everybody knows,” she giggles.

 

 

 

 

Two months before graduation Yunho stops coming to school.

 

 

 

 

 

“He will be going to a very bad high school,” Junsu whispers to him one day. These days they always talk about Yunho, because Junsu is innocent, and it’s easy to hide these unspeakable feelings from him.

Jaejoong’s heart sinks. “Why??”

“Because he did horribly on his exams. Jaejoong, the Yunho you see is not the real Yunho. The real Yunho doesn’t give a shit about academics, about anything, about anyone, except you.”

Then why doesn’t he come to fucking school to see me?

He’s just a fucking kid, that’s why. His feelings for me are ruining his tough boy image and he can’t take it, so he is fucking giving up on the one person who is on his side.

Changmin’s voice rings in his ears. Someday he will betray you.

“God.” Jaejoong wonders if he might just lose it. “Who’s going to motivate him to work hard if all the students at the high school are like him? He’s going to rot away in there, and grow up to be a horrible human being… Sometimes I wish I could just take him away from this country and its corrupted school system and keep him safe before it’s too late—”

Jaejoong feels Junsu lace his fingers with his own, and he realizes that maybe he should stop before he says too much.

 

 

 

 

The day before the start of the school’s three week long vacation, Jaejoong by sheer chance happens to look up from his work and toward his office door—

And there is Yunho.

Jaejoong’s heart nearly stops but he somehow manages to stand and move his feet toward the door.

Without thinking he wraps his arms around the boy and feels him hug back, so tightly, so desperately…

Jaejoong blurts something about how he hopes to see him before graduation, completely forgetting Yunho’s limited English ability, but it doesn’t matter because they’re hugging again and again…

The moment the student leaves Jaejoong locks himself in his office and drops to his knees, heaving, the acidic taste of vomit bubbling up his throat…

And then he is running, through crowds of students, up stairs, down hallways, and when he finds Changmin he throws himself into the man’s arms and bursts into bitter, burning tears.

He is vaguely aware of being dragged into a private room and Changmin using his body to shield him from the wide eyes of students…

“H-he is the first, an-and the last to see me…” Jaejoong rambles, almost deliriously, sagging helplessly in the other man’s arms.

“Jaejoongie—What are you talking about?? What’s wrong!!? My poor baby—“

But he must not tell him. He must not.

I’ll take this secret to my grave. Oh god, Yunho, I love you, I love you, what have you done…

 

 

 

 

Jaejoong sits in the audience, toward the back, watching, numb, as the oldest class walks one by one across the stage to receive their meaningless middle school diplomas.

He doesn’t dare to hope to see Yunho.

But suddenly Junsu nudges him with his elbow, and he focuses his eyes, and there he is…

It’s been almost another full month.

And he’s grown so much.

He looks older, almost like a man, and so beautiful that Jaejoong stares at him, only him, unashamedly.

A tear escapes his eye but he doesn’t notice.

Yunho. God, Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.

And then Yunho sees him, and they lock gazes for what seems like an eternity…

And then tears are streaming down Jaejoong’s face, and he sees Yunho running toward him, dozens, a hundred, two hundred students at his heels—

And Jaejoong is running through the isle, and they throw themselves into each other’s arms, and there is nothing in his world but the sweet, warm Yunho pressed against him…

The other students form a tight circle around them, shielding them from the eyes of other students, teachers, parents, and Jaejoong is sobbing into Yunho’s neck, and Yunho is crying bitterly into his hair…

“Don’t leave me…”

Jaejoong isn’t sure if the words came from Yunho or from himself, or maybe from both, but eventually the crowd of students is forced to disperse and Jaejoong lets go of his boy, and someone guides him back to his seat...

His head is pounding, and he has just enough strength to mumble something about the bathroom to Junsu, and then he is stumbling out of there, his legs carrying him nowhere in particular, just far, far away.

He collapses on the pavement outside the school and focuses on just breathing, the sun warm on his skin.

He loses track of time and then suddenly strong arms are pulling him to his feet and he is running, and Yunho is pulling his wrist, urging him to go faster, faster, and they are running away from the school, away from the people that would never understand, running, just the two of them, and nothing else matters…

Yunho pulls him through winding streets and narrow alleys, and then they’re in a small deserted courtyard with withered vines crawling up brick walls and Yunho is touching him, everywhere, clumsy and inexperienced, and Jaejoong cradles the boy’s face in his palms and can’t believe that he is lucky enough to experience the feel of his skin in this lifetime—

Yunho is crying, and Jaejoong presses tender kisses to his wet cheeks even as he mumbles an incoherent string of I’m sorry s, and Yunho looks at him with the unconditional, overpowering love of youth, and Jaejoong’s head spins and he melts in the boy’s arms—

And then Yunho is pressing his lips against Jaejoong’s, whispering his name between kisses, and his breath smells so sweet, and his lips are so soft, and Jaejoong holds him impossibly closer, claiming him in this stolen moment.

Jaejoong reaches his hand underneath the boy’s cotton shirt and caresses skin he’d only dreamed of, and he slips fingers into his pants and grabs a hardening length that had never been touched before.

Yunho gasps and it almost sends Jaejoong over the edge.

Jaejoong feels a smooth hand wrap around his own member and then they are stroking each other, fast, hard, moaning into each other’s mouths, desperate I love you s exchanged in hot breaths.

Then Yunho is coming, and he’s whimpering, moaning, completely exposed, desperate and trusting in Jaejoong’s arms, and Jaejoong licks the salty tears that pool at the tip of his chin and then he too is coming all over the boy’s hand, the white liquid spilling into his pants and onto the ground.

They slump against each other and sink to the ground, limbs tangled, breathing loud and ragged, a mess of broken bodies.

“Yunho, my darling, my precious baby,” Jaejoong murmurs, nosing the boy’s hair, cheek, neck.

“Jaejoong. Jaejoong. Jaejoong. I love you, so much.”

“I know, my baby. My sweetheart. I love you, too.”

 

 

 

 

Instead of getting fired and being sentenced to years in prison, Jaejoong had decided to quit his job and move back home.

Yunho had sunk to his knees in the airport, begging him to stay, telling him he couldn’t live without him.

I’ll come back for you, he had whispered, fingers running through the boy’s hair.

Now Jaejoong sits slumped in his seat on the plane, thinking that half of his heart, his soul, his entire being is being left behind in Korea.

In three years. When you are eighteen. I promise.

Hongdae. They had managed to agree to meet in Hongdae, center of Seoul.

In three years.

 

 

 

 

Two years later nearly half of the states in North America legalize gay marriage.

 

 

 

 

One month and one week after that Jaejoong holds his mother’s hand and tells her that he left a boy behind in Korea, and that he loves him. She cries, and he tells her that he’s just living, just living, and that life works in funny ways sometimes.

 

 

 

 

He buys his ticket, and his heart beats faster and faster the closer the plane gets to Korea.

 

 

 

 

The sun is shining, and there is music in the streets. People around him are smiling, laughing, taking these preciously short moments to just be, with not a care in the world.

But to Jaejoong, everything is blurring together into a dizzying, sickening mess.

Hongdae is big, and he’s not sure where he’s supposed to go.

He knows he shouldn’t hope, but he can’t help it.

So he hopes, and hopes, and hopes, and he tries to look through the throngs of people, but it’s almost impossible, his heart is pounding and he can’t see…

And then everything stops.

Yunho.

 Jaejoong stares, frozen in place, a figure casually leaning against the side of a building suddenly the center of his world. Can it be?

“Yunho.”

A face turns toward him, a face that is so familiar, but maybe more angular, jaw a bit stronger, brows just slightly thicker…

The tall, young man closes the distance between them.

When he speaks his voice is almost a whisper, thick with too many emotions. “You came back for me.”

“Yunho—“

“I-I studied English very hard. For you. Because I knew—I knew th—that—“

“Yunho.” Jaejoong takes a long-fingered hand into his own. “Run with me.”

And they are running, through winding streets and alleys, Jaejoong pulling this time, and there are flowers and birds and blue skies and he knows, he knows that someday they won’t have to run anymore, and they’ll be free, and they will love each other, forever, for the whole world to see.

 

 

 

Title: Save Me
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: HoMin
Chapter: 2 of 3(ish)  [Chaptered only because it would otherwise be a very intense and long one-shot.)
Warnings: DARK.
Summary: Perhaps there are some things that even the leader can't survive. [This is another "how they came to be together" story!!!]

Find part 1 here.








SAVE ME

(Part 2 of 3)

Changmin wakes up.

It takes him three tries to sit up; his skull is screaming in pain.

He opens his eyes and it takes a full minute for his vision to stop spinning. He swallows against nausea that threatens to bubble up his throat.

He looks around the room. Eyes are turned toward the floor, faces are buried in hands, and no one dares to make a sound.

There’s a new, faint smell in the air.

About a handful of people lay oddly crumbled on the floor, and for the sake of any sanity he may have left, Changmin decides to pretend that they are still alive.

He turns toward a window and notices that the sky is much darker than before. How long have I been out?

And then the memories hit him like a sledgehammer to the face, and he forgets to breathe and he does vomit, and the smell stings his nose and he can’t stop shaking… Oh god, Yunho!

“Good, you’re awake,” a man says in a lazy monotone, not far from him. He’s slouching against a wall. Bored. “Just in time, I think.”

“Where’s Yunho?” Changmin blurts.

“Who? Ohh, right, that’s our little whore’s name.” He snickers. “Shame… He wasn’t very fresh by the time I got my turn.” A shrug of the shoulders. “Oh well, what can you do.”

Changmin blinks. Maybe I should scream. No. I should kill him. Hyung I want to save you I want to die I want to get out of here I want to wake up this can’t be real fuck—

Then he sees something out of the corner of his eye, and he turns and there’s Yunho, lifeless, a man dragging him across the floor by the wrists…

He is deposited like trash at Changmin’s feet, and just then the silence is broken by sirens and loud voices and elated gasps and angry screams, but it all blurs into a faint buzz in Changmin’s ears, because all that registers, all that matters, is Yunho’s broken body in front of him.

His clothes are torn, most of the visible skin is discolored by bruises that are just beginning to blacken, and his jeans…

His jeans are covered in blood, ugly reddish brown blotches soaking through the denim and onto the floor.

“Yu- Yun…” Something lodges itself in his throat and he can’t even finish his name. He wants to lift him in his arms and hold him, and promise to never let go, but he doesn’t know which part of that broken body can still be touched.

So he leans down and presses his nose against Yunho’s cheek, listening to his shallow breathing, smelling the ugly stench of other people on his skin…

“Nngh…”

“Shhh,” Changmin whispers against his ear. He vaguely notices people knocked to the floor and handcuffed and more people running into the building with stretchers and equipment and there is noise and commotion and so many things are happening all at once… And somehow the world seems distant, unreal. “It’s over now.”

 

---------

 

Changmin watches from the doorway of the hospital room.

Yunho is lying still on the bed, and there are tubes and bandages and everything smells like medicine…

Jaejoong is sitting at his side, leaning over him, holding his hand, and from time to time Yunho opens his eyes to look at him.

Sobs echo in the hallway. Yoochun is crying again, and Changmin leaves the doorway and finds him bent almost double on a bench against the wall. He kneels to the floor in front of him and wraps his arms around his trembling body.

At some point Junsu comes and squeezes himself somewhere in between the two and slurs something about why did this happen and what do we do and he whimpers and it makes Yoochun cry harder, and Changmin silently wonders if any of them can ever fully come back from this.

 

---------

 

With time Yunho’s body heals, and all the members resume their hectic schedules of dance practice, recording sessions, concerts, interviews…

No one mentions that day in front of Yunho.

Everyone tries hard to act normal, because sometimes when the members are sad in front of him his eyes turn vacant and it frightens them.

As time crawls by Yunho begins to prefer solitude to anyone’s company and spends hours, sometimes days, locked in his studio or in his room.

Sometimes Changmin catches him standing, just standing, in the middle of a room, eyes unseeing, expression unreadable…

A day comes when Yunho stops holding Jaejoong’s hand, stops leaning into Yoochun’s warm embrace, stops wrapping his arm around Junsu’s shoulders, and stops coming within even a few feet of Changmin.

Crawling into Jaejoong’s bed and sobbing himself to sleep becomes a habit for Changmin now. It’s all he can do. It gives him just enough strength to get up in the morning and face Yunho’s cold, distant eyes.

One night Changmin comes home from practice and finds Yunho standing in the kitchen, a knife in his hand, watching with interest as blood drips from his wrist onto the tile floor.

“Hyung,” he breathes.

The leader’s mouth twitches. “I’m bleeding.”

Changmin closes the distance between them and stands as close to his side as he dares, careful not to touch him. “Put the knife down.”

“Yes. It’s like flowers, isn’t it?” Yunho turns his gaze on him and Changmin doesn’t recognize him anymore and he wants to shake him and tell him to come back because he needs him but he can’t so he prays and prays for Jaejoong to come home quickly so he can run to him and cry again…

 

A total of six months pass, and then Yunho breaks.

Title: Save Me
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: HoMin
Chapter: 1 of 3(ish)  [Chaptered only because it would otherwise be a very intense and long one-shot.)
Warnings: DARK.
Summary: Perhaps there are some things that even the leader can't survive. [This is another "how they came to be together" story!!!]

A/N: Inspired by "Taken" to write a dark fic of my own! 







SAVE ME

Another lazy Saturday afternoon, just like any other, and Changmin is leaning against a wall inside the bank while Yunho joins the short queue.

Changmin had protested about coming in today, but Yunho firmly stated he didn’t want to wait for the bank to reopen on Monday, and that was that.

Changmin doesn’t even try to stifle his huge yawn, and his eyes wander lazily, and he spots something a little bit out of place about the people making their way to the bank from the outside but he’s not really focused enough to think much of it…

When he hears “Everybody down on the ground!” rip through the air, time seems to stop and he’s standing in a silent daze.

 And then Yunho is running at him and tackling him, hard, to the floor.

His limbs hit painfully against the ground. “What the—“

Yunho’s hand immediately slams against his mouth. “Be. Quiet. We must not draw attention to ourselves.”

He blinks and nods in silent agreement, and Yunho releases him.

“Nobody move or we’ll shoot!” It’s a different voice this time, and it’s rough and guttural, and Changmin is reminded of a hound foaming at the mouth from some sickening disease.

He looks in the direction of the sound and sees about five or six men, clad in black from head to toe with masks covering their faces, spreading strategically through the lobby.

And they are carrying rifles, huge bulky things, and the whole scene is like out of some damn movie.

“This can’t be happening,” he mutters under his breath. Yunho turns his gaze on him.

He says it again, just a hint of hysteria creeping into his voice. “This can’t be happening.”

He feels an arm wrap around his shoulders.

“Th-this can’t be happening—“

Now Yunho is holding him tight, forcing Changmin’s face down onto his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs quietly.

Changmin can hear people softly sobbing, and the men are yelling at the clerks about money, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the fabric of Yunho’s shirt and concentrates on breathing.

Then he hears the rapid tap of high heels; a woman is making a run for it.

Immediately they are followed by the heavy thud of boots, and then there is rapid gunfire that shakes Changmin to the core, and he hears Yunho whimper once, and then there is silence.

People are crying louder now, and a voice yells over the noise, “Shut up, shut up!! You want to die today?” The voice laughs, and Changmin’s blood runs cold. “Worthless pieces of shit.”

Someone is dragging something across the floor, and it sounds peculiarly wet, and Changmin slowly lifts his head.

He manages to catch something red smeared across the floor before his head is shoved back into its place on Yunho’s shoulder with such force that it hurts.

But he’s seen enough. He wraps his arms around Yunho’s midsection and grips him like a lifeline.

He’s shaking a little bit, but Yunho is stroking his hair, and he tries his best to focus on the steady movements of those long fingers.

He doesn’t even try to keep track of time because every minute seems like an hour, like a day. But eventually his limbs begin to ache from being wrapped around Yunho in the same position, and he thinks he might melt into hysterics if this goes on for another second.

But he must wait. He must. Because people are still sobbing and hard voices are still yelling… and it’s not over yet.

“What’s this?”

Changmin hears the voice above him and the blood drains from his face. He instinctively holds Yunho tighter and feels the other man reciprocate.

He thinks his heart might thump right out of his chest.

No. No. No.

He hears a laugh and his gut twists. “Do we have a couple here?”

Someone kicks him hard in the thigh and he yelps before he can help himself.

“Two men? Two dirty little whores?”

Another kick, this time to Yunho’s side. Changmin hears a sharp hiss escape his lips.

Before he knows what’s happening gloved hands are wrenching them apart and Yunho is reaching for him and he is reaching for Yunho but it’s useless...

Thick arms are holding him, a second man is holding Yunho, and a third is standing in between them, laughing, always laughing...

“We’re going to have some fun with you,” the third man says, smirking through his mask. “Who wants to go first?”

Changmin locks terrified gazes with Yunho and immediately Yunho is screaming, “Not him, not him, not him, oh god please not him take me take me—“

The masked man only laughs harder and signals to the one holding Yunho—

And Yunho is being heaved across the floor, and he tries to get to his feet but stumbles, so he is dragged by his arms—

“No! No! Yunho!! YUNHO!!” Changmin doesn’t realize he’s screaming, he doesn’t notice the tears streaming down his face, and then something hits him hard against his skull and his world turns black.

Title: Spring
Rating: PG
Pairing: Yunjae/Jaeho
Summary: It's spring, and life is wonderful, and Yunho and Jaejoong have a moment.

A/N: Inspired by the spring-ie weather we're beginning to have in S Korea... The kind that makes you smile and feel that life is worth living, ya know?






SPRING

Yunho closes his eyes and breathes deep.

There are flowers in the air.

He opens his eyes and gazes as the blue sky, and he has that silly, giddy feeling that anything is possible.

He sees a lone, pearly white cloud in the distance and smiles; maybe it’s soft and takes like sugar.

Jaejoong sits next to him on the bench swing and drapes a small blanket over their laps against the slight breeze.

Yunho drapes an arm over his shoulder, and his mind is at peace, and he leans his head back and turns slightly to gaze at him.

Just gaze.

One of them begins to gently rock the swing.

Yunho sees warm, brown eyes that sparkle. Always sparkle.

He sees hair so pure and black that it’s almost blue where the sunlight touches it. He vaguely wonders why anyone ever wanted to dye it something false.

He sees full, slightly puckered lips that look a little pale today, pink rather than red. They make him think of sweet things, and he smiles.

Jaejoong is warm under his arm, and he smells a little bit like vanilla, a little bit like spring, and a lot like home.

When Yunho kisses him, it’s not planned. Not at all.

It’s just natural.

He touches his lips, so gently, to those supple pink ones, and his toes tingle a little bit.

He feels weightless, like the breeze is already carrying him far, far away into the blue and the sun and the sweet clouds…

He feels Jaejoong respond; a subtle parting of the lips, a hint of warm breath as he sighs soundlessly against his mouth…

Yunho reaches a hand to his cheek, fingers tracing along silky skin, and some small sounds escapes his throat as their tongues connect, moving together so slowly, reveling in the taste of each other.

There is soft music in the air. Jaejoong is humming.

Yunho opens his mouth wider and slowly, so slowly, swallows Jaejoong’s lips and tongue and breath and song, and the notes flow into him and his cells feel like they’re singing.

He moans, low, long, into that sweet cavern and feels Jaejoong’s hands tangle in his hair and pull him impossibly closer.

He hooks an arm under slim legs and drapes them over his own with ease.

He is almost fully leaning over Jaejoong now, and they are still kissing, still rocking gently back and forth, fingers caressing, legs tangling, sometimes sighing, sometimes humming, sometimes moaning…

This is not like Yunho, and he realizes it. If it were any other day, any other place, any other moment, maybe he wouldn’t even dream of doing this.

But it’s now, and it’s spring, and there are flowers in the air, and there is music in his soul, and Jaejoong is warm and sweet against him, and there’s a cloud that maybe tastes like sugar, and he’s just living, and feeling, and loving, and today anything, everything is possible.

I don't think I want to associate myself with Casseiopia because there are some CRAZY people out there who call themselves "fans."

People who throw themselves at the members when they're walking down the street or through the airport or wherever, wanting to just be left alone...

People who send DEATH THREATS to actresses that DBSK have worked with, as well as to young guys who happen to LOOK like one of them (and I'm talking about Jaejoong's look-a-like as you probably know. This incident in particular really, really got to me.)...

Come on, these people aren't fans. They're fucking lunatics, nothing more, nothing less, and I want nothing to do with them.

Yeah we love our boys but let's calm the fuck down.

I vow to be a true DBSK fan. Please join me so we can overpower the crazy motherfuckers who ruin everyone's day.

Title: Pants
Pairing: JaeMin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Fluff + Smut + Jaejoong + Changmin. A "how they came to be" one-shot. I wrote this fast, so it's very fluffy and smutty and not much else. :-p




PANTS

It all starts with those damn pants.

Jaejoong struts into the room, wearing them for a photo shoot, and his hips and nearly everything else are hanging out, and Changmin is the first to start giggling and pointing.

He giggles louder when the other man narrows his gaze threateningly at him.

He’s the first to walk over to examine the pants from a closer angle.

“Hyung,” he smirks, tracing a finger along the top seam that rests just above his crotch. “This is ridiculous, even for you.”

He hooks a finger under the dark material, not really thinking, and those damn pants are so fucking low that he accidentally touches something he’s not supposed to…

He hears Jaejoong’s sharp intake of breath and looks up to find him staring him down, daring him to move another inch, to take another breath out of place.

The smirk is wiped clean off Changmin’s face and he backs away, Jaejoong’s piercing eyes managing to constrict his throat.

 

~*~*~*~

Jaejoong’s leaning against a wall, staring into space, expression so cold and distant that it sends shivers down Changmin’s spine.

Something is bothering him.

And it’s serious. The tension is so thick Changmin can hardly breathe.

“Hyung…” His voice sounds like a damn mouse.

He closes the distance between them, thinking maybe he’ll pat Jaejoong on the back or give him a hug or something, but he’s been fucking one-touching him for so long that he doesn’t remember how to do anything else.

So, like the concerned dongsaeng he is, he punches him square on the chest, a little too hard.

Those black, stone cold eyes turn on him, and he doesn’t speak, just glares at him with those eyes that sparkle with murder.

Oops. “Uhh..  I—“

And in a flash he’s thrown to the ground and Jaejoong is beating him, and he is growling like an animal, and it hurts…

“Hyung, stop it!!” He tries to defend himself but it’s hopeless. His impressive height and muscles are useless against the mindless fury of Jaejoong, and all he can do is sob and be scared and wish desperately for his beloved hyung, his omma, his everything to stop betraying him like this.

Almost as soon as it starts it stops, and Jaejoong is a limp mess on Changmin’s chest, and he is sobbing into the bruised body beneath him, and he’s probably repeating how sorry he is like a broken record, but Changmin can’t really make out the words because they’re coming out of his hyung in gurgles and gasps and sobs that rack his entire frame.

His shirt is soaked with spit and tears, and the fresh bruises pressed under Jaejoong’s weight hurt like hell, but he wraps his arms around that sweet, sobbing mess and whispers into his hair that he forgives him, and that he loves him, and that he’ll do anything to make him stop wasting those precious, precious tears.

 

~*~*~*~

After that, Jaejoong won’t get out of his head.

He thinks about him when he goes to sleep at night, he thinks about him when he wakes up in the morning, he thinks about him when he’s showering, when he’s eating, when he’s dancing, when he’s singing… He thinks about him even when Jaejoong is fucking right next to him.

He just wants to hold him again, run his hands up and down that smooth, warm back, gently touch that body that he’s hit and slapped and punched so many times.

He can’t take it anymore. He wants to be able to think about something else, for crying out loud.

So he waits until the others have gone to sleep and Jaejoong is the only one left awake, as usual, because he’s busy preparing at outfit for the next day, and he barges through his bedroom door without any kind of warning.

“Minnie-ah!” his hyung reprimands, but not too harshly.

Changmin stands there and looks down at his feet, his determination suddenly gone, wishing he had practiced a speech of some kind or something.

So he does the only thing he can think of and, keeping his eyes on the ground, walks up to Jaejoong and plants his forehead on the man’s shoulder and croaks pitifully, “Hyung. Help me.”

Instantly warm arms are around him and long fingers are in his hair. “What is it, baby? Are you sick?”

 “Yes.”

“Where??”

“Everywhere.”God, it hurts so bad. What do I do!? It comes out as a whisper into the crook of Jaejoong’s warm neck, and he thinks that the skin there probably takes like honey. “I want to die.”

“Ya!” Hands work quickly to force Changmin to look at him. “You think you can just say that?? What is the matter w—Ya, Changmin-ah! Look. At. Me. N- Minnie, don’t cry, don’t—my sweet baby…”

And Changmin is crying, and he feels warm, motherly kisses all over his face, and he’s so glad for this affection, and he realizes that he wants more, and that’s disgusting, and wrong, but it’s okay because he won’t do anything to make Jaejoong hate him and he’ll take whatever he can get, he promises, he promises—

But he closes his eyes and his lips part as Jaejoong continues to spread around the tears on his face with those lips, and he mewls, and he can’t help it, and he’s so sorry…

“Baby,” he hears him whisper against his cheek in between kisses. “Open your eyes.”

He notices that the lips on his cheeks, on his forehead, on his nose, on his chin are lingering longer, and they’re softer, and he’s shivering from head to toe and doesn’t have the strength to hide it.

So he opens his eyes, and Jaejoong is still kissing him, and those doe eyes are shining with something that makes his knees shake.

And then those agonizing lips press against his own, enveloping them, because they’re so damn full, and Changmin takes the top one into his mouth and sucks on it like he’s starving.

Jaejoong moans against him and opens his mouth to allow his tongue entry, and Changmin can’t think straight anymore, he’s dizzy and he’s floating and he’s lost and he needs him so bad—

“IwantyouIneedyouHyungohGodohGodIloveyousomuch—“ He’s rambling, and he’s a complete mess, and he kisses every part of Jaejoong’s face and neck and it does take like honey, it does—

His clothes are falling to the floor, and Jaejoong is naked and so perfect and Changmin feels like a fucking ogre next to him but it’s okay because Jaejoong is kissing his flesh, and biting, and sucking, and then they’re on the floor and tangled together and thrusting their hips and why can’t Changmin stop crying…

“Changminnie-ah, my sweet baby,” Jaejoong breathes against his mouth, and he is glowing, and he is beautiful, and Changmin can’t believe it… “I want you inside of me… Please, my baby…”

And a bottle of something from somewhere is thrust at him, and as he lathers his cock in the cool liquid he briefly wonders if they should move to the bed but decides they better stay on the floor because he won’t last long enough for that.

He doesn’t know any better and positions himself on top of Jaejoong and slides into him to the very hilt without any preparation…

Jaejoong arches his back and cries out, and Changmin wants to ask him if it hurts, but it feels so tight, so hot, so fucking good that all that comes out of his throat are embarrassing noises that he can’t even recognize.

After a few agonizing moments of Jaejoong’s muscles contracting around his shaft over and over and over again, he finally hears “Keep going” from those red, wet lips, and he starts moving, pounding, into him, moaning his name, clumsy hands touching him everywhere, the force of his thrusts shaking and jostling the body beneath him every time and it’s so god damn fucking hot…

Jaejoong is saying something but it’s incoherent, and his neck is arched, and he’s pumping himself with that perfect, delicate hand, and the sight of him is so erotic that Changmin stills his movements and just looks at him.

Jaejoong whimpers and that’s Changmin’s cue to ram into him as hard as he can, and he hears him scream his name, and he sees cum spill and spill and spill onto his chest, his belly, his hand, and it takes two more thrusts before Changmin is helplessly coming, and he doesn’t make any noise because he can’t even breathe, and he comes and comes until he feels empty and broken and helpless and so, so good…

He holds Jaejoong tight, the sticky white substance leaking and spreading and it’s everywhere, and Jaejoong is whispering how much he loves him, and Changmin is kissing his lips and cheeks and forehead and hair and ears and eyebrows, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to fucking one-touch this creature ever again.

 

~*~*~*~

 

A/N: Jeez my stories all kind of have the same theme, huh. :-p I just REALLY crave more of these “how they came to be” type of stories where they’re not automatically gay… YOU KNOW?? :DDDDD

Title: Your Favorite Song
Pairing: Yunjae/JaeHo
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Let's just say it's ANGST all the way. I blame it on the following song, which I was listening to as I was writing the fic:

You'll Be Safe Here by Rivermaya

That, plus some angsty fics from Hug, made me depressed enough that I HAD to pour it all out into an angst fic of my own. Don't hurt me! :-p And enjoy!!



YOUR FAVORITE SONG

I’m going to die tomorrow, he says, eyes wide, scared, seeing something invisible to everyone but him.

Don’t be stupid, you retort, wondering what the hell is wrong with him this morning, checking your watch and cursing him for already making you late for work.

You walk out and close the door behind you, making sure to bang it shut extra loudly because you’re silly and you take too much for granted.

Yunho don’t leave me, you hear him plead from behind the closed door, but it’s all nonsense, and you go to work like it’s any other day. The boss will have words with you if you’re late for that meeting.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You eat lunch at your desk because you’re very busy, too busy to go down to the cafeteria. But that’s okay because a song comes on your laptop and it makes you think of Jaejoong.

And instead of smiling your heart does a funny flip flop that suddenly makes the sandwich in your hand seem unappetizing.

You can’t explain it but you feel like you’re in the wrong place.

You discard your food and put on your jacket, getting mustard on the inside of the sleeves, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Your boss passes you as you jog down the hallway, and he barks after you, but you don’t look back, and you giggle to yourself.

It doesn’t matter. Home is what matters now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You came back.

There are tears in his eyes, and he’s looking at you as if you are the greatest gift on earth, and you’re so humbled and in love that you could die right there and be happy.

He holds you close and you can feel him breathing in your scent, and you vaguely wish you had put on some nice cologne that morning.

He notices your dirty hands from lunch and chuckles, teasing you for being such a messy eater, and you’re a little embarrassed…

But he holds your hands in his for long moments and stares at them, so lovingly, eyes sad, maybe regretful, but you don’t have time to decipher all of his complicated emotions because he’s pulling you with him into the bathroom against all your protests.

Warm water runs from the tap and he soaps your hands underneath it, caressing each finger, each fingernail, tracing soapy patterns along the lines on your palms, and you wonder why on earth he likes your hands so much all of a sudden because they’re nothing compared with any part of Jaejoong’s body.

He stills his movements, and the water is running, and tears are pooling at the tip of his chin before falling into the sink, and you don’t know what to do, so you just stand there and feel your heart bleeding for him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You’re already out of breath but he’s still pulling you, running, you don’t know where, but he’s laughing and that makes you happy.

 His laughter is your favorite song.

He pulls you into an alley and up stairs and through ridiculous openings and finally you emerge onto an old rooftop that has seen better days, and he turns to you and grins, and asks you if you like it.

You look around. The sky is grey, the chill makes you wish you had brought your jacket, the streets are lonely and deserted…

What exactly am I supposed to be seeing? you ask, throwing your arms up in the air, exasperated.

He takes your face in his warm hands and pleads with those infinite eyes of his, Just look.

You think he’s lost it, but you look around again, and suddenly you see it, you see the world through his eyes…

And the clouds are silver, and they’re glowing with promises of something wonderful beyond them…

You look down, down into the streets below that seem so far away, and you see an old man pulling a cart behind him, and you wonder where he’s going, and suddenly you want to hug him and tell him that you see him…

There’s a lamp shining in a distant window of a distant house, and there’s a small hole in the roof, and you wonder if the children will have to sleep under extra blankets that night to stay warm, but it’s okay because the blankets are soft and comfortable and safe…

And you want to cry because you realize life is living, and no one is alone, and you’re in love with the world because you’re standing on top of it and seeing everything…

And you are crying, and he is crying, and you’re holding each other and you’re so in love that it hurts, and you wonder if you can die from this feeling.

He’s sobbing into your ear, and it tears your heart, but it’s your favorite song.

You make love on the rooftop, and he moans and tells you how much he loves you as if you didn’t already know.

You know just how to push him over the edge, and you do, and his whimpers and mewls are music to your ears.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s morning, and you have to rush to that meeting, but you don’t care, and you take the time to eat a full breakfast with your usual coffee.

He gazes at you from across the table, chin in his hands, and he loves you so much that you feel weightless and wonder if you might just fly.

It’s time to go, and you both stand and embrace, but you don’t let go. Instead he lays his head on your shoulder and you sway to music only you can hear.

You close your eyes and listen to him breathe.

It’s beautiful.

It’s your favorite song.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What? you ask like an idiot into the phone, heart already pounding, face already drained of blood and flushed and back again… What accident? Is this a joke??

You drop the phone and run out of that office, out of that damned, suffocating building without waiting for an answer.

No. You can hardly fit the key into the car door, your hands are shaking so bad.

No. You race through the streets, running red lights, angry horns following you most of the way.

No. You’re almost there. And you remember the morning you rushed out of the apartment to go to work, leaving him there, alone, and you want to kill yourself because you were so stupid, stupid, stupid…

You arrive at the scene, and there are cars mashed together, an unrecognizable mess on the road, and some people are carrying a body bag on a stretcher, and there’s a hand poking out of it, and you see that ring you gave to him for his birthday, and you run to him and scream and cry his name, and you trip over your own feet because the tears are blurring your vision…

Strong arms stop you, and you try to get past them but can’t, and you notice how something is terribly wrong with the shape of the body bag, but you don’t care, you don’t care what he looks like, you just want to hold him because he’s your Jaejoong and you love him and you don’t care, don’t care…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You call his cell phone every day, just to hear his voice mail message, because his voice is your favorite song.

You giggle hysterically and wonder if he’ll pick up this time.

You know he won’t. But you wonder anyway.

Today the sky is dark and cloudy, and you’re happy, because that means you can go to that rooftop and sit and watch the whole world, and maybe he’ll see you.

Title: His Sweet Embrace
Pairings: HoMin (Yunho + Changmin)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A series of connected drabbles of how Yunho and Changmin came to be together.

For all you lovely writers. Hope you enjoy!

HIS SWEET EMBRACE



01

They’re in Japan, and Yunho is having a hard time understanding that damn culture because he’s crammed in a corner of a club, Japanese men surrounding him and Changmin, daring them to kiss. The loud music pounds in his ears and his head feels like it’s about to explode, and all he wants to do is get out of there.

He squeezes his eyes shut and plants a hasty kiss on the younger man’s lips to get them to shut the fuck up. He immediately wipes his lips with his sleeve, but voices are taunting him, their alcohol-saturated breaths too close to his face, and they’re not satisfied and won’t let him leave until they are.

Changmin saves him from further thought by initiating the kiss himself the second time. His kisses are sloppy, but Yunho’s are smooth and practiced. The older man shows off his skills robotically, wishing his mind would just leave his body.

He tries to imagine he is kissing a woman, but Changmin’s mouth is too strong, his scent is too musky, the fingers cautiously placed on his cheek too long.

He doesn’t like it. He wants out. A tongue flicks into his mouth and he feels downright dirty. After a few agonizing moments that seem like hours, days, the men around them laugh, satisfied, cheerfully patting his back as a signal to stop.

Yunho breaks away from Changmin and shoves him in his rush to get off the couch, out of that fucking hellhole.

 

02

Yunho is in a bad mood.

He pours himself some cereal, nearly half of it spilling onto the floor. He doesn’t care. The pieces crunch under his feet as he goes to find some milk.

“Mmmm, need more!” Changmin says cheerfully by way of greeting, beaming at him despite the early hour, placing his own finished bowl on the counter.

He goes to grab the cereal box out of Yunho’s hand for seconds, and his fingers lightly brush against the older man’s hand…

And Yunho jumps, roughly jerking away, dropping the box in his haste.

Cereal spilling onto the floor is the only sound as they stare at each other, Yunho angry, defensive, and hating himself for causing that lost look in Changmin’s huge eyes, and hating Changmin for daring, for having the nerve, to make him feel like that.

He wants to apologize, but he can’t let himself, lest that bastard dares to touch him again in any way.

Instead he stomps out of the room like a fucking teenager, his emotions twisted, confused, uncontrollable.

He enters his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him. Long moments pass before he faintly hears Changmin cleaning up the mess.

 

03

They are sitting in the living room, Junsu and Yoochin splayed out on the floor, Jaejoong sitting by his side on the couch, and Changmin sitting on a chair facing the TV screen and no one else.

The atmosphere is tense. He knows the others can feel it.

He squeezes Jaejoong’s hand for comfort, his skin warm, warm with the kind of friendship that he understands. He chances a look at the youngest member’s back. It’s stiff, his body visibly tense, careful, because Yunho is in the room, and these days Yunho’s behavior is unpredictable at best.

A lump forms in his throat and he swallows around it. It’s guilt. Guilt for acting like such a maniac. Why can’t he just forget about the incident in Japan and move on with his life, like Changmin did, like any normal person would do? Why does he have to ruin their friendship? Why does he have to scare the shit out of that innocent boy?

The lump in his throat grows bigger, and he feels like an ass, because he is one. He leans his head on Jaejoong’s shoulder and closes his eyes against it all.

 

04

He is alone in the apartment, trying his best to focus on the newspaper in his hands.

Suddenly there is a loud crash as Changmin stumbles through the door, clumsily tripping on anything and everything in the way.

The youngest can’t see properly through the tears in his eyes, but he sees Yunho, and he bows his head immediately, and tries his best to silence the sobs coming from his throat.

He almost runs through the apartment, looking for someone, anyone, who’s not Yunho.

“Junsu?” Changmin’s voice is thick and breaks in places. “Jaejoong??” A few more sobs, louder, defeated. “Yoochun…”

Finally Yunho sees him shuffling back to him, head down, not daring to look at any part of him. He stands against a wall, a lost puppy waiting for someone to understand him.

How did it come to this? Yunho silently muses. Did I do this?

He walks over to Changmin so silently that the other man jumps when gentle fingers lift his chin.

Yunho looks into those red, puffy, mismatched eyes of his, and wonders how this guy managed to get all the looks.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he tries to convey how sorry he is, how much he loves him, how much he needs his friendship, through his eyes alone. Eyes that aren’t as sweet and wonderful as Changmin’s, but he tries his best.

 

05

He’s at the airport, waiting for him, hopping in place despite himself, stretching to see over the crowd surrounding him.

And then he sees it: a hand waving frantically in the air, fingers reaching toward the sky to be seen.

And then Changmin’s face comes into view, and he is grinning like an idiot, and he is glowing, and he is a young kid again…

Yunho runs to him, to the man that is taller than even the leader, and lifts him into his arms and spins him round and round like he is nothing.

And Changmin is squealing with joy, and Yunho’s face is buried in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent there, memorizing it. It intoxicates him, and he is saturated with it, and he is dizzy, and people are frowning at them but they keep spinning…

 

06

Changmin is naked below him, perfect body slick with sweat, legs spread apart like a whore for him, only him, and his mouth is open, and he is panting and mewling and wanting him.

Yunho doesn’t understand, but he is fucking hard, and even as he tries to rationalize it he is covering his reddened shaft in lube, cock weeping at the mere sight below him.

He bends down and crushes his mouth against Changmin’s. His mouth is strong, his scent is musky, and Yunho loves it, needs it, wants to fuck it.

Changmin arches his back into the kiss, gasping, groaning low in his throat, the boy in him gone completely and replaced by a man in the throes of passion, begging for release.

Yunho positions himself as long legs wrap securely around his hips and thrusts, shallowly at first, then deeper and harder.

And Changmin is so hot and tight that Yunho throws his head back and moans loudly, unashamedly, his own noises turning him on impossibly more.

Changmin screams like an animal, and he knows he’s hit that spot, and he knows he won’t last much longer if he keeps screaming like that.

The body below him is writhing on the bed, desperately gripping the sheets, and when he hears him moan his name his thrusts immediately become irregular, and he knows he is close.

He grabs Changmin’s neglected cock and pumps it as best he can, and even his inexperienced attempt quickly pushes the younger man over the edge, and he is coming, whimpering, shuddering, head lolling on the pillows.

With a final wet thrust Yunho is moaning, nearly fucking crying, as he fills Changmin’s insides with his seed, his seed, claiming him.

He crushes the other man as he collapses like a ragdoll on top of him, cum and lube smeared everywhere, the air saturated with the smell of sex.

He wraps his arms around Changmin’s already unconscious body and waits for his world to stop spinning.

 

07

He is at dance practice, and they’ve been working hard, too hard. He is tired, and he makes one wrong move and falls to the floor, slamming his knee against the hard surface.

In a flash Changmin is kneeling beside him, long fingers caressing his cheeks, his hair, eyes searching his.

“I’m okay,” he reassures him. The others are watching, but he doesn’t care, and he takes those fingers that are too long to be a woman’s and kisses the tip of each one.

Changmin hugs him to his chest, the leader, like he’s just a little baby, and gently rocks him, his scent and his body heat nearly lulling Yunho to sleep.

And he loves him, he is so in love, and he knows he’s screwed, but he doesn’t give a fuck, and he wraps his arms around his beautiful boy and melts in his sweet embrace.

Title: My Yunho-ah
Pairings: JaeHo/Yunjae
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yunho. Jaejoong. Sex. 8D What more could I ask for?
A/N: Damn the authors who post on Hug are sooooo good... I love reading your stories... This is only my second contribution, and I'm not as good as the rest of you, but I hope you enjoy! This is for you! :-D





MY YUNHO-AH

The living room is dark, the TV screen and a small corner lamp providing the only illumination. Empty bottles of liquor litter the low coffee table, and among these are two pairs of propped up feet.

Jaejoong is sitting shoulder to shoulder next to Yunho, and he is finally crashing from a night of intoxication. His head is beginning to feel heavy, and he can’t muster enough energy to change the channel when a cheesy romance flick comes on the screen.

He vaguely hears Yunho chattering about something, and soon he feels a hand fall on its familiar place on his thigh to get his attention. Jaejoong drunkenly swats in his general direction but otherwise ignores him, instead suddenly focusing on the TV screen.

It’s some generic sex scene, the kind that wouldn’t normally interest him. But this time Jaejoong can’t help but notice the light sheen of sweat on the woman’s breasts as they jiggle obnoxiously from the force of the man’s thrusts… He watches her face as she closes her eyes and opens her mouth in ecstasy…

It doesn’t take long for his pants to feel a little too tight, and for that damn hand of Yunho’s to feel like it’s burning a hole on his thigh, so close to his crotch.

Jaejoong squirms a little and bites his lip as the denim of his jeans provides the slightest bit of friction. The alcohol making him extraordinarily impatient, he grabs the hand on his thigh and shifts it until it’s almost touching his crotch. He dimly notices Yunho’s chatter cease.

He looks at the screen again and the man is squeezing the woman’s creamy breasts hard enough to leave marks as he ruthlessly pounds into her from behind, and before he can stop himself Jaejoong turns his head and moans into Yunho’s neck before pressing his lips against an earlobe.

In a flash Yunho is off the couch and tumbling to the floor, horror evident on his face. “Jaejoong. What the fuck.”

His harsh tone snaps Jaejoong out of his haze, and all he can do is sit frozen on the couch, staring wide-eyed at the man on the floor.

“I—“ he tries to apologize, but his throat is too dry. He clears it extra loudly to try to cover up the moans and groans coming from the TV.

But he is still agonizingly hard, and there are sex noises coming from the TV, and he is looking at Yunho, and he is thrown into a situation that Jaejoong had frankly never thought he would experience. He chances a glance at Yunho’s lips and his cheeks flush in shame as his cock jerks in response.

After another moment of tense silence, Jaejoong decides to act. I’ll blame it on the alcohol, he tells himself, confident that no one, not even Yunho, will hold him responsible for his actions.

He slides to the floor on all fours and closes the short distance between them. The other man visibly tenses and doesn’t even blink as he stares Jaejoong down, daring him to intrude on his personal space one more time. In fact the glint in his eyes makes Jaejoong fear for his life just a little, but he needs release and he will get it, and nothing will stand in his way.

He pauses an inch from his face long enough for Yunho to open his mouth to try to say something, and then Jaejoong’s lips are pressed against his so softly, so gently, that he feels the other man’s muscles soften.

Yunho’s lips aren’t as soft as a woman’s, as the kiss is not perfect, but he smells and tastes so sweet that when they pull apart Jaejoong is certain that he wants more.

He searches Yunho’s eyes; the anger is gone, but they are shining with uncertainty. He kisses his mouth again, experimenting with a different angle, and this time he feels the slightly chapped lips part just enough for a barely audible mewl to escape.

“What are you doing,” Yunho breathes, pulling away. A hand presses against Jaejoong’s chest to keep him at a distance.

“I’m not sure…” Jaejoong caresses the hand on his chest. He feels his control slipping. “Yunho-ah, I want to kiss you.”

“I’m not gay.” His voice is low and thick with tension.

Jaejoong’s pants are now threatening to burst and he can’t wait any longer. “I’m not gay either, you idiot, now kiss me!”

He crushes himself against Yunho’s lips, and he feels all remaining boundaries melt as the other man returns his kisses just as desperately. He moans obscenely as Yunho catches his tongue and sucks, almost too hard. He’s not sure what to do with his hands, so he cups the other man’s face and tangles his fingers in hair that is rough from repeated dyeing. Strong arms wrap around his waist and press him impossibly closer, and he throws his head back and gasps as those lips move to claim his neck. He feels a delicious tingle in the pit of his stomach at every wet kiss planted from the top of his jaw line down to his collarbone, and he grabs Yunho’s hair in fists as the other man sucks loudly on the flesh in between.

Suddenly everything stops and he is lifted to his feet. “Follow me.”

Disoriented from lust and the remains of alcohol in his bloodstream, Jaejoong staggers after Yunho and they end up in the leader’s bedroom. The lights flicker on and the door is shut behind him, and now they face each other in awkward silence as neither is sure of how to proceed.

Yunho swallows audibly. “Take off your shirt.”

Jaejoong obeys, fumbling with the buttons. He curses as the shaking of his hands makes the task extremely difficult. After a minute warm hands gently push his away and undo the buttons for him. “It’s okay.”

Jaejoong laughs weakly. He is nervous. “Shit. I thought I was the one in control.”

Yunho finally pulls his shirt off, quickly discarding his own immediately after. Jaejoong’s heart threatens to leap out of his chest, but that’s his Yunho standing there, eyes soft, lips parted, body needy, and he steps forward and kisses him, expressing all of his confusing emotions and his overwhelming lust with his lips. His fingers roam all over Yunho’s exposed skin, memorizing every smooth curve, relearning the body he’s known for so long in a completely new way.

They stay connected for a long time, kissing, touching, moaning, sighing, until eventually their pants and boxers join their shirts on the floor, and they are pressed flush against each other completely naked. Jaejoong almost comes the first time their erections brush against each other, and he has to take a full step back from Yunho to take in a few steadying breaths.

He opens his eyes to see Yunho getting on his knees, and he grabs him by the shoulders to stop him. “No, Yunho-ah, I am too close…”

Instead Jaejoong falls to his knees in front of his best friend, his soul mate, and darts out his tongue to lick the tip of his throbbing erection. He is rewarded by a sharp intake of breath above him, so he licks his lips and plants wet kisses from the tip all the way down to the base. The scent there is musky and not unfamiliar, and he feels so close to Yunho at that moment that tears form in his eyes.

Without warning he takes the head into his mouth and licks and sucks hungrily, tasting salty precum on his tongue. Yunho moans his name for the first time, and Jaejoong takes the entire length into his mouth and chokes at first, learning how to breathe with Yunho halfway down his throat.

Yunho thrusts into him, once, twice, the third time very hard, and suddenly Jaejoong is lifted to his feet by the armpits. Yunho’s eyes are screwed shut and a tear is rolling down his cheek on either side, and he sobs once against Jaejoong’s lips as he kisses him.

“Nngh, Jaejoong-ah,” he murmurs between hot kisses. “Am I crazy?”

“Yes,” he whispers back, pressing his forehead against the taller man’s. “But it’s okay. Yunho-ah, I’ll take care of you.”

They stumble together onto the bed, Jaejoong falling onto his hands and knees and Yunho behind him, wrapping his arms around his chest. Jaejoong feels Yunho’s erection poke against him in different places as the other man thrusts his hips instinctively.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he breathes above him, voice saturated with need for release.

Jaejoong points to a bottle of lotion lying discarded on the floor. “Use that.”

Yunho releases him and grabs the lotion, frowning at the label before squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers.

Jaejoong’s palms begin to sweat as he waits for him to resume his position behind him. He gasps when he feels the cool cream touch his skin, and he bites his lip to keep from yelling stop when a digit slowly enters him.

“How does it feel?” he hears him ask, voice soft with concern.

“Strange,” he manages. When a second digit joins the first one, Jaejoong grits his teeth and wonders if there must be some alternative to fulfilling their needs. He is about to say something when suddenly those fingers brush against a spot that sends fire from somewhere in his belly all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he gasps and mewls, pushing into the fingers for more.

A third finger enters him, and he slowly rides them, trying to find that spot again. He whimpers, unsuccessful, and desperately, desperately, wanting it.

Suddenly the fingers are removed, and Jaejoong hears Yunho squirt more lotion out of the bottle. He moans as a slick hand reaches around to grab his weeping cock, and all air leaves his lungs as Yunho enters him full force from behind.

“It hurts,” Jaejoong chokes, trying to breathe, as Yunho rams into him again and again, too far gone in lust to stop now. And then he rams into that spot inside of him, and Jaejoong screams in beautiful pleasure and pain.

Yunho’s hand pumps him in time with his thrusts, and Jaejoong’s vision goes black even though his eyes are open. His next scream turns into a low, throaty moan as the pain is almost gone and his body is overwhelmed with pleasure. Too much. Too much. I can’t…

He hears exquisite sounds escape Yunho’s lips and the loud, wet smacking of skin on skin, and suddenly noises he doesn’t even recognize are spilling from his own mouth as he is coming, coming, coming onto the sheets, and it gets on Yunho’ s hand and mixes with the lotion, and he keeps spilling until he feels utterly wasted.

His knees and elbows wobble, and he collapses just as Yunho comes hot and hard into his body, excess seed spilling down his thighs.

He is trembling, and he fights to stay conscious. Long arms and legs wrap securely around him as Yunho lies down next to him and hugs him to his chest. “Did I hurt you??”

Jaejoong wishes he had the strength to kiss away his concern, but all he can do is lay limp like a ragdoll and hoarsely whisper, “I love you” before everything goes dark.

 

THE NEXT MORNING…

Jaejoong stands shirtless in front of the mirror, examining his still sleepy face. His hair is in complete disarray, and there is no makeup to cover the unevenness of his skin or the slight darkness underneath his eyes. His eyes are brown and unimpressive without the thick eyeliner and large colored contacts he is usually instructed to wear. His lips are chapped, and he concludes that his thin limbs definitely look better clothed.

If only the fans could see him now. He sighs, bowing his head, feeling his confidence slip away.

He doesn’t notice Yunho come into the bathroom until arms wrap around him from behind, and that familiar weight of his chin rest on his shoulder.

Yunho looks at him through the mirror and smiles so fondly that Jaejoong’s eyes begin to sting and shine.

“My god,” the man whispers against his cheek, voice heavy with too many emotions. “You are so beautiful.”

Jaejoong turns to look deep into those eyes he knows so well, those eyes that were never covered by any damn contacts to begin with.

Yunho plants a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I love you, too, my Jaejoong-ah.”

Title: Forbidden
Pairings: JaeHo
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Boy x boy goodies, angst. Don't read if you don't like! :)
Genre: Angst/romance
A/N: For some reason I just love stuff like this, so... don't hurt me. O_o
Summary: Jaejoong is emotionally broken after a horrific car accident, and Yunho does his best to comfort him. Short but sweet. (The accident itself is only a minor detail of the story and takes up something like two lines total.)

Forbidden

I stood in the hall with my head pressed against his door, my breath suddenly unsteady. Jaejoong had just survived the biggest ordeal of his life, but none of us knew if he would ever really heal. He had walked away from the crash with nothing more than cuts and bruises, but maybe in some ways Jaejoong had died that night along with his childhood friends.

I gently turned the knob and walked through the door, the loud beating of my heart making me self-conscious. But he didn’t hear me, or at least didn’t have the strength or desire to acknowledge me if he did. He was curled up on his bed, in the same position, in the same clothes. It was cold in the room, but Jaejoong’s blanket lay discarded on the floor. I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat as I quietly closed the door behind me. My hyung, dying from the inside out, was slowly killing me as well.

Without thinking I walked over to the bed and lay down beside him, facing his back.

“Hyung,” I whispered, my face slightly flushing as I disturbed the thick silence. As expected, there was no answer. Sighing, I folded my hands under my cheek and watched him breathe. Long minutes passed before I had the courage to try again.

“Jaejoonga.” My voice was just a little bit stronger this time. I sat up just enough to support myself on my elbow and leaned over to see his face. My hand shook as I reached to brush away the hair that fell over his cheek, but I hastily withdrew when he suddenly opened his eyes. For the seconds that followed, I stopped breathing. I watched him, my body frozen in motion, wondering if this was finally the moment when he would wake up on the inside… and desperately trying to think of what to do for him if he did.

But nothing happened. Jaejoong lay there as before, his eyes open but not seeing. Finally I lay my hand on his shoulder and gingerly rolled him onto his back. I was reaching my breaking point, and I knew it.

“Hyung,” I pleaded, my voice quivering. At that moment Jaejoong shifted his eyes and looked directly at me, and just like that time seemed to stop. I brushed the hair away from his forehead with my fingers to better see his eyes, and to my joy he was still looking at me. He had such beautiful eyes, but they were vacant. I ran my thumb along his eyebrow, attempting to bring him back to life with the tenderest touch I could manage. I rested my palm against his cheek and tried to think of words that could possibly be appropriate for this moment.

But any plans that I may have had completely vanished when Jaejoong started to cry. He didn’t make any sound as the tears rolled down his face. His brows furrowed slightly, the tip of his nose turned pink, and I knew that I would never see a more heartbreaking sight in my life.

Moving fast, I leaned over him and grabbed the blanket from the floor. I threw it over both of us and pulled him onto my chest as I lay back on the bed. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed him harder against my body, one hand tangled in his hair. I could only hold him as he began to softly shake.

I acted on impulse the first time he whimpered and kissed the top of his head. The second time, I kissed his forehead. And the third time, I tilted his chin toward me and buried my face against his before kissing his lips.

I had never really thought about kissing men, with just one exception. Once or twice I had found myself thinking of kissing Jaejoong, and now that it was happening I felt naked and ashamed and afraid… But his lips were even softer than I imagined, his breath even sweeter… I closed my eyes and parted my lips against his to drink in his sobs and whimpers.

“Yunho.” I heard my name as a whisper, his breath hot against my mouth. I tried to say his name in return, but I only gasped as our limbs intertwined of their own accord. I felt his long fingers find their way underneath my shirt to caress my bare back. I found just enough courage to run my fingers along his jaw, his neck, his arms, gingerly exploring forbidden territory, not knowing if this chance would ever come to me again.

Suddenly he pulled his lips away, and I opened my eyes to find his cruelly beautiful gaze on me. His tears had dried, and he was breathing hard.

“Jaejoonga,” I murmured. “Hyung.”

At my words he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the crook of my neck, his hands continuing to caress me, so gently…

We fell asleep molded together, and at that moment I hoped I would never wake. I feared the morning more than death itself.