hTitle: Jailbait

Pairings: Yunho/Changmin

Rating: i'm pretty sure this is NC-17 @.@

Warnings: Changmin may or may not be underaged.

Summary: A night working the street corner leads to...

A/N: i've been working on this for MONTHS. i didnt know how to continue. this past week, i forced challenged by self to end it and this is what i came up with.

He’d always been the reasonable sort, he’d like to think. Always been the kind of person to think before he spoke or acted. Level-headed, rational, sensible…there were so many words.

Unfortunately, however, none of which could pertain to him at this moment.

He was currently leaning against a brick wall in a dilapidated street corner of the roughest part of town. To say it was a situation he never thought he’d be in was an understatement. He’d always looked down on those who couldn’t find a way out—disgusted by those who’d sell themselves for money. It irritated him to no end hearing sorry excuses, telling those around them, “I didn’t have a choice.”

How they’d scorn him now.

Changmin shifted uncomfortably on the wall, doubt plaguing his being for a moment, flooding his thoughts. He pushed them away though, knowing they wouldn’t get him anywhere and he’d be no closer to getting what he needed. He glanced at the time on his cell phone before slipping the device back into his back pocket. From the corner of his eye he could see several potential customers appreciating his slim physique. He couldn’t help but smirk mentally, indulging in a moment of conceitedness. He knew he looked good.

Dark-washed denim jeans encased long, long legs, molding the snug fabric tightly against his skin. His white shirt, of a softer material, had the same effect: hugging his lithe frame in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination but holding the promise of much, much more. The perfect get up to catch the ultimate prey.

Speeding down the road, a black BMW caught his eye. Changmin watched curiously as it raced by, wondering what the owner of such a nice car would be doing in such a seedy side of town. He’d been working street corners for a few months now and was no longer surprised by the sordid images his mind produced. For a moment he was piqued by the knowledge of his lost innocence, but knew not to linger on such thoughts. He’d learned the hard way in previous months that, though thinking was an essential part of a human being, sometimes it didn’t do you any good.

So he tried not to think too much about the black BMW when it returned, slowly, but didn’t stop. For the most part, he tried to ignore it, not minding if whoever was driving only wanted to look. He was accustomed now to furtive glances filled with perverse desires—and him willing to grant every one. Again, something in the vicinity of his chest—quite possibly his heart, though he doubted he still had one after so many nights of sucking off old men on soiled sheets—twisting enough to nearly make him flinch. He resisted it, aware that sly smiles won in the end.

He tried to keep it up though, even when, an hour later, he still hadn’t baited anybody. And it wasn’t even his fault. That damn BMW was back for what seemed like the millionth time, passing by his corner slowly, deliberately, but never stopping. He wouldn’t have minded so much if it weren’t for the fact that it was scaring away all his potential customers. Even his regulars had taken a step back when they’d come to notice the expensive, yet understated, black car passing again. He had half a mind to stop the damn vehicle and tell whatever sick fuck to either buy or go. The BMW beat him to it, coming to a full stop on his side of the street.

The blacked out window of the driver’s side rolled slowly down before a lithe arm clad in what was obviously a designer suit reached out and crooked a finger at him. It pricked his pride—what little he had left of it—but didn’t let his slight irritation show as he approached the costly car. He leaned an arm on the roof of the car and peered into the dark vehicle. In the dim lighting he could make out dark eyes against a tan complexion and a face made of masculine angles. So much for old men and sick fucks, this guy didn’t look much older than him.

“Hi,” he said a little uncertainly. “Can I help you?” he rounded his eyes, trying to look as innocent and non-threatening as possible. It was an act he’d perfected to showcase his youth, knowing it’d sell better than the seasoned whores walking around. The other man smirked, the look clearly stating he saw right through the “I’m an angel act,” but was deciding to play along.

“Busy night?”

Not with you circling around, Changmin thought vehemently. “Not at all,” he replied, tone sweet. “Did you want something?”

“Not really,” the stranger said. “Why? Do you think you have something I could want?”

Changmin shrugged noncommittally, the movement hiding the thrill of excitement running up his spine at the smooth baritone voice. “Depends on what you like.”

“I like what I see.”

“Interested?” Changmin raised an eyebrow at the man, innocent smile still in place.

“Are you selling?”

“Only if you’re buying.”

“Get in.” Changmin didn’t need to be told twice.

“My name’s Max,” he offered a few minutes into the drive. The alias he’d affected a few months before slips out so easily now. “What’s yours?” He’s shot an amused glance in his direction.

“U-know. Why?” Changmin shrugged.

“Just wanted to know whose name I’d be screaming.”

**

“Come,” U-know beckons, leading him by the wrist into a luxurious bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink?”

Changmin shakes his head in response. “No thank you.”

The older man comes up behind him, hands working his shoulders, kneading the knots that have lodged themselves there. “Relax…” There’s hot breath by his ear followed by a lick to the delicate lobe and Changmin can’t help but shiver. It’s different, he knows it is. It’s nothing like the quickies in dark corners he’s gotten used to. It’s not the same as blurred blowjobs in dirty bathroom stalls that he could barely remember. It’s soft and gentle and its scares him, throws him out of his twisted comfort zone. He’s accustomed to be being forced and shoved, not handled like some priceless porcelain. There’s nothing he can really do about it though, since his new companion was paying.

“Tell me...Max…how old are you?” nimble fingers rub the muscle surrounding his spine, starting just behind the neck and circling downward to the sensitive skin of his lower back. Changmin has to fight to remember how to think.

“Old enough.” He answers breathlessly.

“Liar.” He doesn’t realize it but they’ve moved, so when U-know pushes him forward he finds himself face planting into quality bedding and Egyptian cotton instead of eating thick carpet. He stills, waits for the impending grabs to the front of his skintight jeans, anticipates the momentary fear of being taken roughly.

Except it doesn’t come.

Changmin lifts his head to find U-know on the other side of the room instead of forcing his cock into the younger man. He’s irritated for a second, insulted even. It’s not like he was a bad lay to begin with, but he’d learned quite a few tricks since he’d started working the streets and he’d be damned to be ashamed of anything he’d learned—no matter how crude. Changmin straightens, sits up, and stares curiously at the man now mixing drinks at a mini-bar along the wall. Were the drinks more interesting than he was?

“I’d offer you a drink but you don’t even look old enough to be out this late, never mind imbibing alcohol.” Those are his words but Changmin sees the second glass being prepared.

“It doesn’t matter how old I am.”

“I beg to differ,” U-know drawls, sipping his alcohol and watching Changmin from above the crystal rim. “It matters to me. I’m paying remember?”

Of course Changmin remembers. How can he not when it’s been the same routine for almost half a year and there’s been nothing he could to change it? He doesn’t respond but never takes his eyes off the drink U-know’s preparing. He’s not exactly sure what the contents are, but he’s certain it’s only a good amount of hard liquor and nothing else. The older man approaches with only the second glass in hand, the first one he’d been drinking abandoned at the mini-bar.

At first Changmin thinks U-know’s going to offer it to him, but quickly discards the idea when he sits on the bed instead, back resting on the headboard and holding the drink between slender digits. Changmin’s slightly confused, doesn’t understand why he isn’t naked on all fours and sucking cock. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t been stripped and being fucked roughly into the mattress instead of sitting idly on top of it. His job was relatively predictable: get picked up, suck or fuck, get dropped off again. Anything that deviated from the usual was frowned upon and considered suspicious and not worth getting into. Sitting and making small talk with a customer definitely fell into that category.

“How old are you, Max? And this time, answer correctly.” There’s a veiled threat somewhere there and Changmin isn’t unaware of it. On the other hand, he was loathe to give his real age. What if this guy was some kind of undercover cop intent on busting child prostitutes? Selling yourself was one thing, time in jail was another.

“Not old enough.” U-know smirks, more of a twist of the lips than a curve of the mouth and its really nothing pretty, but Changmin can’t help but feel the sudden rush of thrill that has the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention.

“Not what I had in mind, but it’s better.” For now. The last two words are unspoken, but there’s something in the way that U-know looks at him that tells Changmin he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut for much longer. “This is some of my favorite liquor.” The older man holds up the nearly forgotten glass in hands. “It makes me wonder though, if it’ll taste better from your pretty mouth.” He crooks a finger, much like the first time they met earlier in the evening, but this time Changmin is in too much of a daze to feel insulted or annoyed.

He settles between U-know’s thighs and Changmin feels arousal begin to pool low in his stomach. Their position is mildly erotic, the promise of more to come nearly palpable in the air. “Drink.” U-know commands, holding out the glass to him and Changmin takes it warily. The smell of liquor is strong and poignant yet so tempting—just like the man giving it to him. Changmin takes a tentative sip, the fiery liquid warm and bitter as it seeps through his lips. He watches U-know to distract himself, takes in and considers every line and angle. He notices the little things like the masculine jaw line and the pucker of a luscious mouth. It intrigues him how that mouth, with the barest hint of a mole on one corner, could be so alluring. The lips were bowed; the lower so full it was nearly feminine.

Changmin wanted to take it into his mouth and suck on it.

As expected, the liquid burned on its way down to his throat, but not nearly as much as the simmering of lust in his veins. It had been a long time since he’d been this aroused, and the first time with a customer. Sure he’d enjoyed himself with a number of clients in the past, but none of them were quite like U-know. Changmin’s never been wooed into having sex, and definitely not by someone paying for it. He decided that a little change was nice, even if he should have been alarmed, suspicious. Instead, he resolves to blame it on the alcohol come morning—if he makes it that long. For all he knows U-know could be some psychopath killer with a penchant for young men. It was a sobering thought, but Changmin wasn’t even drunk yet.

U-know shows a small smile when he grimaces slightly at the foul taste, but drinks on. The glass isn’t even half empty before Changmin decides he doesn’t like it. He lowers the glass and before he can think, U-know is snaking his tongue into his mouth.

He gasps, surprised at the sudden action, and U-know takes the opportunity to steal deeper inside. Changmin’s never been kissed like this before, like he was oxygen and U-know was trying to gulp him down. His mouth is ravaged, U-know delving into every corner, looking for every hint of alcohol left in his mouth. His tongue finds Changmin’s, twists around and plays with it. All Changmin can do is groan, the sound embarrassingly throaty and full of lust, but he can’t seem to give a flying fuck. Not when U-know was fucking his mouth with his tongue, and Changmin thinks they’ve only just begun.

At the back of his mind he realizes the glass is no longer in his hands, too focused on the growing need within him. He whimpers when U-know pulls away and Changmin doesn’t even have time to consider begging for him to come back when he is back and Changmin’s being pushed into the mattress. He doesn’t resist, welcomes it in fact, nearing desperation with the want to touch, to feel, to come skin to skin. He gets what he wants when U-know straddles him, rolling his hips and ripping a loud moan from Changmin’s mouth. There isn’t time to think as U-know surrounds him once again, this time looming above him, propped on his forearms and smirking, lips shut tight. His head descends, kissing Changmin with just his lips. He reciprocates, wanting to deepen the kiss, unable to fight the wave of desire threatening to pull him under. A small rotation the hips and Changmin emits a low whine, startled at the first taste.

Warm liquid—made warmer by U-know’s mouth—trickles past his lips and down his throat. Changmin swallows and decides right then and there that hard liquor isn’t so bad after all. It’s suddenly like heated sugar: hot and saccharine. He’s so distracted by the new taste that he doesn’t feel that hand crawling up his shirt. Doesn’t feel it until there are fingers tweaking a hardened nipple, the other hand rubbing through thin fabric. Changmin arches off the bed and into U-know, feeling the older man’s arousal. His heart falters from the heat radiating from the crux between U-know’s legs and he struggles to remember how to breathe. It doesn’t do much good since all of a sudden U-know’s taking off his shirt and divesting Changmin of the rest of his clothes.

Skin, blessed skin, touches—finally—and it’s like electricity running round and round a circuit. Things are suddenly on fast forward, a blur of hands and limbs and sensitized skin. Changmin’s lost all shame (not that he had much left, anyway: whoring yourself and pride did not go together) and is rubbing himself against the older man, mewling incomprehensible pleas that have U-Know smirking into the downy skin just below Changmin’s navel. He continues to make his way south and Changmin’s a second too late before he realizes just where he’s headed.

“Ah--! Wait!” he half gasps. When he looks down, its all he can do to keep from thrusting up, the sight of where his cock is and how amazing it feels a completely overwhelming feeling. U-Know’ eyes are rolled up to meet his, the tip of Changmin’s cock sitting daintily between plump lips. There’s a question in that look, an almost-dare. It makes Changmin wary, hesitant to protest, except taking pleasure isn’t what he’s here for. “Y-you don’t have to. It’s—I have to…my job—” U-know’s mouth leaves him and he’s sort of sad, sort of glad—but then his hand comes out of nowhere and Changmin’s back to feeling like he’s a sparking wire in the middle of a storm.

“Your job,” U-Know says as his palm slides up and down Changmin’s erection, “Is to make me feel good.” His voice is low and the words are a little menacing, a little ruthless. But there’s a huskiness to it that belies the lust just underneath the control, so Changmin thinks he must be doing something right, even if it’s just reacting. “I like sucking cock better than having mine sucked. Got a problem with that?” He thumbs the slit, pulling back the skin and laving at the head—something Changmin can’t really argue with anyway, so he just lets out a tortured groan in response.

U-Know grins (Changmins knows because he can feel it grow against his skin) and does some kind of gymnastics move with his tongue that has Changmin arching off the bed. “Try to pay attention. Maybe you’ll learn something.

Never mind paying attention, Changmin can hardly remember to breathe. Every effort is put into not coming too soon, because Changmin learns that U-Know’s earlier admission about sucking cock is, in fact, not a joke. The older man’s really good at it too, deep throating him easily, which, Changmin concedes a bit smugly, is not all too easily done. Being well-endowed is his only pride left in a job that requires him to be on his knees (or all fours, depending on what the customer fancies) as a prerequisite to being paid. So he’s surprised when U-Know downs him all in one go.

Changmin gasps noisily, trying to hold himself back and remind his lungs to get oxygen through to his brain. All cerebral functions seemed to stop as the older man slides his mouth back up Changmin’s stiff erection, dragging his tongue against a throbbing vein all the way to the tip. He laves at the head while a skilled hand continues to glide up and down the rest of Changmin’s arousal. The simultaneous action has Changmin fisting the sheets and fighting the instinct to cant his hips forward, off the bed and into the heated heaven that is U-Know’s mouth.

U-Know brings him closer and closer to the edge with every swipe of his tongue, so close that Changmin sees spots at the edge of his vision, only to have the specks clear away with a deft squeeze at the base of his cock and the momentary absence of an adroit tongue. Changmin’s near agony with the need for release, and U-Know seems to want to prolong his torture. Changmin’s well-versed in sounding desperate, a new expert in whimpered please and faking moans of arousal. For some reason though, he can’t even dredge up the tiniest of noises, his lower lip between his teeth, trying to stifle the sounds he so desperately wants to make, but can’t.

It’s too real, the arousal building in his groin. The stimulation is too genuine, too authentic to be faked. Changmin’s afraid he might actually mean what he says when he says (more. More. Please—more.) it and so decides not to say anything at all. Except sweet torture suddenly stops and Changmin can’t help but wonder why.

He looks down to see U-Know looking at him with the most shit-eating grin on his face and that’s when he realizes oops. Too late he’s already said it.

“You’ve held out longer than I thought you would.” Understanding comes a few seconds later, realization that the older man was waiting for him to squirm, to make a sound, before moving on to anything more stimulating. Although, what could be more stimulating than that mouth, that tongue, and his cock, Changmin’s only got a vague idea. The idea is more solid than when they’d first started, pressing insistently against Changmin’s thigh. Thoughts of where else it could be pressing insistently against makes his cock twitch.

U-Know sees it and widens his already wide-ass smirk. “Relax. We’re just about to get to the good part.”

His voice is calm, but Changmin can hear the hint of a tremor in his voice. The controlled baritone the older man had kept during their whole encounter had slipped into an airy bass that sent shivers up Changmin’s spine and he’s hard pressed not to touch himself. U-Know had proven himself to be the kind of man that liked to do things himself. Changmin figured the older man wanted to touch him, so he kept his hands in the sheets.

It’s with that mentality that he becomes slightly startled when firm—but unexpectedly gentle—hands untangle his fingers from the bed covers and guides them to his own jutting member. He looks up, wide-eyed, as U-Know sits back on his haunches, powerful thighs framing a proud erection, and says simply: “Touch yourself.”

Thankfully, Changmin’s never been slow, only a bit hesitant. This time is no different. He runs a closed palm over the expanse of his cock. He’s still a little too confused to feel the pleasure that usually comes with skin-to-palm contact, but sees U-Know doing the same thing and suddenly his skin is prickling and he’s too hot and too aroused all over again.

Changmin doesn’t know what to look at—how does he divide his attention between the burning look in U-Know’s eyes and the hypnotic way his hands slide up and down his own cock? It’s an almost painful decision, and Changmin can’t make up his mind. His eyes close involuntarily, imagining those hands on him, the lingering feel of that hot tongue nearly swallowing his member whole fueling his imagination.

The bed shifts, Changmin’s body with it. Warm hands leave him flushed and panting as they reposition his legs, a pillow propped beneath his hips. There’s further shuffling, the tell tale sound of crinkling foil and the popping of a cap. Changmin hopes it’s what he thinks knows it is—almost coming dying when a tentative finger pokes at his puckered entrance. He inhales sharply as it sinks deeper inside, gently prodding past the first ring of muscle. Changmin forces himself to relax, initial penetration always being the hardest for him. It’s easier now though, with months of practice under his belt and it takes only moments for him to want more, to urge his hips downward onto U-Know’s probing finger.

“Easy, easy…” U-Know murmurs against the smooth skin of an inner thigh. “You’re tighter than I thought you’d be.” Changmin thinks the older man sounds more pleased than most people would be, but doesn’t think much about it—can’t think about, really—not when there’s a second finger, long and slender, brushing against something that has Changmin seeing stars.

“Oh, God,” Changmin says between gasps, arching his back, fingers searching for something to grasp, anything. One hand finds purchase on U-Know’s shoulder, clutching at the hard muscle.

“It’s U-Know, actually,” the other man hums against Changmin’s heated skin. “But it’s a nice comparison.”

The humor is lost on Changmin, the words barely registering in the haze of lust clouding his mind. There’s three fingers now and U-Know’s blowing on the tip of his cock. The cool air on his sensitized head sends goosebumps up his spine and his hips thrust upward into blessed heat. U-Know doesn’t pull back but he’s definitely surprised.

Max is young, and he’s got more control than U-Know first thought, but Max’s control isn’t what he’s worried about anymore. His own arousal is thrumming in his veins, the need to plunge himself into Changmin’s tight heat nearly animalistic. Only his need to make it as painless as possible for the younger man overpowers the want to sheath himself inside the bliss he’d find there.

U-Know presses butterfly kisses against Max’s hipbone, willing his finger to slow their stroking, to stretch the muscles as carefully as possible. “Ready?” he whispers into the downy skin next to Max’s navel, the delicate tip of his tongue dipping into the tiny indentation. Max shudders at the contact, and U-Know feels unwarranted giddiness bubble inside him at finding a weak spot.

He licks his way up a lean abdomen, leaving a cooling trail of moisture from one pert nipple to another, enjoying Max’s quivering form. “Are you ready?” he whispers in the hollow of a damp shoulder. “I don’t think I can hold on much longer.”

The admission rewards him with a strangled groan, the lustful sound is U-Know’s undoing. Quick, too quick, even for him, he’s poised and ready, the head of his cock pressing into the young man’s entrance. Max thrusts himself forward, nearly as desperate U-Know, their joining a long-awaited inevitability.

He’s in about an inch before the notch settled in his gut begins to unravel. Any minute now; U-Know knows he’s not going to last long. He planned on going slow, on keeping the pain to a minimum, but nothing was going his way tonight. Not since he’d spotted the long legged beauty ensconced in the gutters of downtown Seoul. The moment he’d laid eyes on him, U-Know simply could not drive away. He’d circled the block a million times, knowing it wouldn’t help the young man in his obvious baiting. But just the thought of Max baiting anyone sent a dark emotion harpooning through his chest.

He thrust involuntarily, almost encasing himself completely within Max. “Sorry, sorry,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Max…you’re so tight.”

“’S okay,” Changmin says with a shake of his head. “Just—do that again. Please.” He had no business asking, no right to beg or plead for the pleasure that mounted within him everytime U-Know moved, but he couldn’t help it. Word vomit was never his thing, but maybe good sex with even better looking strangers did that to him.

U-Know was more than happy to comply, slowly at first, thrusting forward tentatively to gauge how well his young companion could take him. It was a tight fit but U-Know could feel himself burn from the inside out. Control became a foreign thing when surrounded by Max’s heat. With every plunge of his hips, Max’s muscles gripped him snugly, as if begging him not to pull out. The drum of his heart beat out the sounds of everything else except Max’s labored breathing, a startled cry ringing through the air when U-Know shifted, changing their angle.

With an air of triumph, U-Know kept that angle, unmindful of the pace so long as he could keep listening to Max repeating his name over and over (U-Know U-Know. Oh God. There. Harder harder.) till his voice was hoarse.

They don’t last long, the foreplay and the alcohol adding to their lust. U-Know feels himself coming first but has an irrational need for them to reach the pinnacle of their ecstasy together. He gropes clumsily between their bodies for Max’s neglected cock and strokes roughly, almost brutally, till he can feel the younger man shuddering around him. Max’s release triggers his own and he thrusts with wild abandon once, twice, three times, feels Max spill between them and follows seconds right after.

Changmin’s still floating on the highest cloud nine he’s every been on when U-Know’s body is wracked with spasms—a near violent orgasm. Changmin stills himself, holding the older man and running his hands down his side, coaxing him as gently as he can from his release.

U-Know drops as gently as he can onto the body beneath him, his arms jelly in the aftermath of what ranks pretty high on U-Know’s list of ‘Incredibly Amazing Sex.’ He still, however, can’t seem to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d found such perfect physical harmony with someone who obviously wasn’t even legal. Or if he was, then Max hadn’t been legal for very long.

The thought of Max—beneath him, around him, wherever or maybe just the thought of Max in general—sets a quiver in his stomach and has U-Know thinking of all the proper, appropriate things he’d like to do—with Max, to Max, as long as it was Max—rather than the improper, inappropriate things (like they just finished doing). Those thoughts are too complicated, too complex in the afterglow of ‘Incredibly Amazing Sex’ so Yunho decides not to think about them for now. For now, he’s content with not being such a dead weight, hooking a long arm around the other’s lean waist and rolling himself onto his back so that Max fits snugly in his side.

They’re both too tired, too spent to do anything else but lay there, Max’s head on his chest, listening to his heart beat and it feels oddly right to have him there. U-Know’s the type to plan ahead, but right now is complicated enough. Still, he tries and decides to start with the basics.

“My name’s Yunho. So what’s yours?”

Street Walker

Yunho/Changmin and a few ninjas.

Angst. Romance.

Sequel to Jailbait.

Summary: It's been a while, but street corners never change.

A/N: EVERYONE should give vaguelynormal cookies, balloons, a parade and the whole she bang. This fic was all her. I was merely the vessel used for her awesomeness. I hadn’t even planned for a sequel, but because ima♥ is so fckn AWESOME it just had to happen. Beta-ed by her too ^^

I love you bb, I do! I do!

There is something about being pressed against a dirty wall in a supposedly abandoned alley that never loses its charm. Maybe it’s the lighting (or lack thereof), maybe it’s the environment (the dirt and grime seems charming after a while)—maybe it was just him. He’s not really sure but Changmin thinks that maybe the thrill running up his spine at the feel of being between a hard wall and a rough embrace have something to do with it.

It’s been a busy night and this guy’s the third one yet. It makes Changmin pliant; almost welcoming to the callous palm shoved in his pants. The last two were blowjobs and Changmin’s yet to come. This one isn’t too bad, the alcohol laced breath something he’s used to ignoring. The man is reasonably good looking, probably not that much older than him, shorter, the height compensated for with a nice ass.

He seems to care about Changmin’s pleasure too, returning the favor for when Changmin sucked him off. It’s how Changmin finds himself being brought to release by inexperienced (inebriated) hands while a fumbling mouth sucks a bruise at his jugular. Spilling between them, Changmin expertly moans a name he learned barely half an hour ago.

“Junsu.” Is uttered breathily just as teeth nip at a vein and the other man pushes off him somewhat shakily. ‘You’re a pretty good lay’ is offered with his usual rate and ‘a little something extra’ because the man thinks he’s cute. A final wink and a hurried kiss on the cheek—more an apology than a thank you—and the man is gone.

Changmin leans against the wall for a few more minutes letting the feeling trickle back into his legs. With a sigh he takes out the packet of towelettes he always keeps somewhere on his person and tidies up. His movements are mechanical, the ministrations automatic after months and months of practice. It’s not that bad, he’d like to think as he buttons up his jeans. At least now he’s got a pretty solid clientele with quite a few regulars who aren’t too inclined to roughing him up and one or two drifters every now and then that tipped well.

Changmin’s also aware that it’s not exactly something to be proud of, but he is, even if just a bit. On his way back to his favorite street corner, Changmin spots Yoochun- Pimp Extraordinaire- sucking on a cigarette with an arm around a boy who looks younger than Changmin himself. Changmin stares, momentarily dumbfounded before shaking himself out of his stupor and walking on.

The boy—because that’s what he is, of course—can’t be a day over fifteen, tall, all innocent smiles and bright eyes as Yoochun offers him the last inch of the cancer stick. Changmin walks away, losing yet another little part of his soul at the realization that, just 12 months ago, he was that same boy. He keeps walking because to stop means to remember and in this here and now, remembering is not an option. Neither is forgetting, but oh he tries anyway.

Slowed steps add to an innocent swagger coupled with mismatched eyes and it’s not too long before Changmin’s pressed up against another wall forgetting.

--

They always start out with a little alcohol, sort of like a toast to their first encounter. This time starts much the same way, with Changmin drinking the fiery liquid greedily from Yunho’s lips, long accustomed to it now and craving for the burning warmth it leaves him with. He chases the taste back into Yunho’s mouth, taking the lead and engaging Yunho’s tongue because Changmin knows it’s a turn on for the older man. He pushes—gently, but firmly and with intent—pushes until Yunho’s body dimples the bed, settling deeper into the mattress as Changmin’s knee finds its way between his legs, nudging suggestively at the obvious tenting there.

Yunho lets out a satisfied groan, happy that Changmin’s decided to play a more aggressive role than his usual acquiescing self. There’s kissing that’s all teeth and tongue and it leaves Yunho panting, breathless, as Changmin’s knee becomes an insistent pressure on his rapidly growing erection.

It could be the amazing turn on that is an aggressive Changmin or the sweet, sweet torture of rough denim against his straining cock, but it’s too much too soon and it isn’t long before Yunho’s gasping his release into Changmin’s mouth, the younger man swallowing his cries. Changmin coaxes him down with close-mouthed kisses pressed against his throat and skittish fingers.

With a fond smile that Changmin returns a second too late, Yunho says, “You’re getting real good at this.” The smile he gets in return is innocence and mischief and a little sad around the edges but a smile nonetheless. Yunho knows he isn’t allowed to pry even if he’s tempted more and more often. Instead he tries to be satisfied with the come smeared in his jeans and the sight of Changmin popping the button on his fly.

It’s a poor substitute for what he’s been hoping for lately, but it’s better than remembering the envelope in his drawer filled with bills he withdrew just this afternoon. It’s better than remembering that right after Changmin sucks him off and lets Yunho fuck him into the mattress, Changmin will get dressed and whirl away with his moneyheart.

But Yunho makes do because it’s as much as he’s allowed.

--

It’s Taemin. The boy—that’s his name. Or at least what he goes by. It’s the name countless, negligible faces will gasp, murmur, maybe even scream as the boy does whatever they want for money that’ll mean shit when there’s nothing left to live for. Not that Changmin tells the boy that though.

Taemin stares at him with wide, eager eyes, not the first indication of his obvious innocence, but certainly the most dominant. Changmin doesn’t know what to do with that face, those eyes. He doesn’t want to look at the boy at all. But he doesn’t have a choice. He can smell Yoochun all over Taemin, the scent of cigarettes and clove cloying, almost sickening if even in some twisted way Changmin’s addicted to it.

He’d worn Yoochun in, under, around over him for nearly three months when he was new and also knew how hard the man was to shake off. Past feelings aside, Changmin found it incredibly easy to hate the other man now. Yoochun, heartless bastard and Pimp Extraordinaire, expected Taemin—sweet, guileless, untouched Taemin—to wear him, Changmin, for an indefinite amount of time.

If Changmin thought he was already too broken to break any further, he cracked just a little more.

--

“Hyung.” The word sends a dark feeling running up and down Yunho’s spine as he bends Changmin forward to sprawl naked across the armrest of the couch. Never had an honorific sounded so sinful as it becomes half moan, half plea, Yunho’s tongue tracing slick patterns over the backs of the younger man’s thighs. He teases Changmin mercilessly just to hear him say it over and over again.

“Hyung—ngh. Hyung. Yunho hyung” becomes an addictive mantra as he nips at the dimple in Changmin’s lower back, nimble fingers slipping their slick selves into the young man’s welcoming heat. Changmin gasps, quietly—always so quietly—and Yunho wriggles in another one just to hear him moan. He’s biting down on the armrest, the sounds Yunho wants to hear caught between the leather. Inwardly, Yunho huffs like a child denied. Instead of throwing a tantrum, however, he takes it as a challenge.

Yunho pulls out, long fingers not as slick as before but much more determined. Changmin heaves what sounds like a relieved sigh and goes slack on the couch. If Yunho didn’t know any better he’d be insulted. But Yunho does know better, has memorized Changmin’s every twitch and every sigh, can taste the salt on Changmin’s skin and relishes in his every shallow breath, an indication of his struggle not to come.

It reminds Yunho that Changmin is not a novice, that cocks and come and blowjobs and fucking was not some new concept. It reminds Yunho of what he always forgets when he touches Changmin and the young man reacts (like an innocent) or when Yunho pushes into him and he’s so tight (like a virgin). At the back of his head he realizes that it’s probably part of some elaborate act, a cultivated play that Changmin’s perfected almost seven nights a week but—God, he makes it so easy to forget. It’s not like Yunho’s complaining (much. Trying not to.)

Fingers spurred by a challenge—and a feeling Yunho knows would be a disaster to identify—grip weakened hips and part a lean ass. Yunho kneads the supple backside, leaving an imprint that doesn’t last as long as he’d have liked. Teasingly, he runs the flat of his teeth lightly over the tender skin and grins at the slight jerk he gets in response. Changmin’s whimpering incoherently, eating leather at what’s to come. Yunho’s a tease if there ever was one and would stop at nothing until Changmin screams his name.

He tongues at the sensitive line of Changmin’s ass and unerringly finds what he’s looking for, licking delicately at the puckered entrance. He can taste cherry flavored lube, too sweet as it mixes with the come Changmin’s prematurely leaking. It’s the perfect combination.

Like with most things that concern Changmin, Yunho loses himself in pleasuring the young man. The first and every subsequent thrust of his tongue is done with intent, made to drive Changmin crazy and remind him that Yunho was good at more than just fucking. That Yunho had a stable job, a steady home, and more than enough money to waste on just himself. That Yunho was generous and kind, caring, considerate, and more than willing. Changmin had but to ask and Yunho would—

“Fuck me. Hyung, please.” Changmin gasps as Yunho’s tongue darts in and out of him in quick succession, a demonstration of what could be. “Now.”

Changmin undulates on the couch, trying to create friction for his aching cock. Yunho lets him, steel grip on Changmin’s hips to guide the rocking motion to a pace simultaneous to the thrusts of his tongue. The movements end up being smooth and long, the total opposite of the rough and fast Changmin needs to fall over the edge.

His hands clench, eyes close, and breathing heavily he pushes back and against Yunho’s agonizingly slow rhythm. He wants to come, needs to come but still refuses to make a sound. Yunho’s waiting for it, that exact moment Changmin loses it completely and lets himself go. When Changmin lets Yunho take care of him, only then will Yunho give him what he really wants—what he really needs. Yunho wants Changmin to scream his name.

Yunho hopes it’s soon though because it’s not like he’s unaffected. His own cock is also painfully hard, straining against cotton pants he never got to take off after getting rid of the shirt and shoes. Changmin was a very distracting distraction to say the least.

There was an innate wantonness in the younger man that—despite his lingering innocence (act or not)—couldn’t help but show. Maybe that’s what hooked Yunho from the get go. Hooked him and keeps him coming back for more and wanting more than he should.

Like having Changmin’s number and the right to call. Like seeing him and the right to ask how his day went, what he did, and who he was with. Like having Changmin underneath him, writhing from his touch and the right to say mine.

But mostly just having the words sitting at the tip of his tongue and the right to say—

Yunho wants a lot of things.

But he can’t do any of those things, can’t ask any of those questions, or say any of those words so he satisfies himself with what he can do. Rather than doing and saying the things he wants, he makes it known through every touch, every stroke of his fingers on heated skin. He makes every kiss count, every breath needy, every gasp and moan worth Changmin’s while.

It may be Yunho’s money but as they lay together, spent in each other’s arms for a stolen moment, Yunho thinks Changmin is a worthy investment.

--

In the end he can’t do it. He can’t touch the boy in the way he’s been told. Taemin seems confused, his eager smile not its usual one hundred percent. He just stares and stares at Changmin with those wide, expressive eyes and Changmin feels like he deserves to die.

Taemin’s inability to question, to say anything about his current situation in life hits Changmin a little too close to home.

Call it whatever you want—Hero Complex or not but—

Changmin wants Taemin to have more than just this.

--

“Harder.” She orders and Changmin is more than happy to comply. His client tonight is a regular and female. A small, petite looking beauty that could command a room with just her presence and looked like she should be at home, awaiting her husband and being the perfect little Asian housewife.

Except she was here, under Changmin and writhing for him to fuck her senseless. She also had a thing for younger men and harbored masochistic tendencies during sex, but Changmin didn’t complain since she paid a pretty penny for him to use her body.

He’s already got her pinned to the bed and moving none too gently, but she wants more so Changmin gives it to her. He’s never particularly understood why people liked it so rough, but as he holds her down and shoves himself into her, he realizes the satisfaction that comes with control.

There’s a wild, restless energy moving within him borne of self-loathing and disbelief at just how low he’s fallen. He channels that energy in to giving into Boa’s demands, into the need to bruise, to force, to lose control. She moans his alias in a loud and gusty sigh that befits a woman unashamed and full of character. Her freedom and her outright acceptance of her sensuality is something Changmin knows he lacks and envies.

He nips on the underside of a pert breast, hips snapping and never missing a beat as he circles a nipple with mouth and teeth, making sure to leave a bit of himself behind. He studiously avoids the right nipple because it’s sensitive and he knows it’ll have her tumbling into oblivion. Changmin isn’t finished with her yet, wants to make this last and give her money’s worth. So he fiddles with the left nipple instead, squeezing, pinching, pulling, and running the flat of a calloused thumb over the sensitive nub. It makes her arch against him, into his hands and Changmin can feel the first vestiges of her impending orgasm tighten around him.

Changmin’s been fucked by men, but he knows how good it can feel to fuck a woman.

He switches up the angles until he finds one that slides against that spot just inside her with every thrust, each one faster than the last because a command sits at the tip of her tongue anyway. Orgasm takes her by surprise and she’s loud and keening as she comes. Her hands clench uselessly on the bedspread where Changmin recaptures them at the wrists.

He struggles against her tightening heat, thrusting again and again to throw her into another oblivion and another one before he gives in to his own release. With a groan he gives one last measured thrust and collapses next to her. They lay panting for a moment, breaths in tandem and both appreciating the afterglow.

Good sex is good sex, even if it’s paid for.

After a few minutes and he’s sure he’s regained feeling in his lower half, Changmin takes the initiative to get up. She’s kind enough to let him use the shower and dress himself afterward. When he comes out of the bathroom, squeaky clean and ready to leave, she’s sitting naked on the loveseat, completely comfortable in her nudity. Even if Changmin’s preferences swung another way, he knows how to appreciate aesthetics.

She’s sipping on a tumbler of fine liquor and raises it in toast or offer, Changmin doesn’t know. He spies the label, recognizes it, and decides it’s best to decline. There are some things he’d like to preserve like that expensive alcohol and the things it reminds him of. They are things he’d rather keep untainted with the infection his job entails.

Changmin leaves with fuller pockets, no less guilt, and completely sober.

--

So how’s he doing, Min? Takes a long drag.

Um. Err—fine. He’s doing fine. Coughs at the smoke blown purposefully in his direction.

Fine? An arched brow. I’d think he was doing more that ‘fine.’ Taeminnie’s very eager to please.

Y-yeah, definitely. Very eager to please.

Eyes narrow with an unreadable look. Good. With a puff of smoke and a whiff of clove, he’s gone as fast as he’d come.

There’s a slight twinge inside what heart Changmin has left (there isn’t very much), a tiny ache over being so casually dismissed by someone that he, at one point, was—

A shuffling sound brings him back to reality and the sight that greets him makes Changmin feel awful and dirty.

It’s Taemin, watching him with curious eyes and the smell of brand new, brand name clothes clashing with the cigarette smoke and clove that never leaves him these days. It’s a getup that Changmin knows all too well: sneakers, skintight jeans, a loose shirt and a bright smile. It does well in emphasizing his youth, showcasing the innocence, all the while beckoning for wolves to come and play.

Changmin sees it for what it really is: a threat.

World spinning, he thinks he should have known, should have surmised it the moment Yoochun had approached him. The older man doesn’t bother with him anymore, unless he wanted his money. Changmin should have guessed the reason.

Yoochun knows Changmin isn’t doing what he was supposed to. That Taemin isn’t learning anything because Changmin isn’t teaching him. Instead of confronting him, Yoochun chooses a more painful route; one sure to war with Changmin’s already skewed values. It’s also one he thinks will ensure Changmin’s cooperation.

Changmin watches as the boy smoothes and fusses over his new clothes, the silent warning never more apparent.

Teach him, or leave him untaught for the wolves.

--

Yunho gawks momentarily at his cell phone, the number he never thought he’d see flashing repeatedly on the screen, signaling an incoming call. For a second he doesn’t know what to do with it, shock and disbelief slowing down his mental functions. Fortunately, common sense takes over after the fourth ring, continuing into five after Yunho fumbles to accept the call. After almost hanging up (twice), Yunho finally answers in the sixth ring.

His hello is eager, breathless, disbelieving—until the voice on the other end absolves him of any such thoughts. It’s Changmin on the line, but not. The person on the phone talks to him slowly, an almost monotone that squeezes Yunho’s heart and leaves a heavy weight on his chest. There’s a helplessness, a quiet desperation that leaks from that controlled tenor, but it’s the underlying anguish that has Yunho speeding out of his office the moment Changmin asks for him to come (as if he could ever say no).

--

Changmin takes Taemin to a park, leads the boy down a narrow path till they reach a nearly empty playground. Taemin follows him blindly and Changmin smiles bitterly to himself. Oh the symbolism.

The sun is setting, getting too dark for children to be out, mothers scurrying to take them home. Changmin can barely remember being coddled so caringly and the reminder stings. Briefly, he wonders if Taemin shares the same past. Changmin watches him grinning giddily at the swing set and sincerely hopes he doesn’t.

He sits at a nearby bench, waiting. Watching Taemin play like an over grown child—which, when all is considered, he actually is—momentarily takes his mind off the gravity of his decision. It’ll cost him, maybe his life, maybe Taemin’s life, maybe even someone else’s, but Changmin has to try. He wants to preserve Taemin’s smile—and this is the only way he can think of.

Taemin sees him first, the boy’s carefree movements stilling as he lays eyes on the newcomer. Changmin follows his gaze and is filled with a relief he shouldn’t (want to have to need to) feel.

Yunho doesn’t notice he’s being watched, doesn’t see Taemin’s thoughtful gaze at his approach, and completely ignores the keeling over of an adolescent girl paying the three of them too much attention and not enough directed to where she’s going. She pushes the baby stroller right into a tree, falling to the ground on impact.

Poor tree. The stroller, thankfully, is empty.

Yunho doesn’t notice these things because his eyes are all for Changmin and the stricken look that seems to be permanently etching itself onto his handsome face.

Changmin does notice, but only because he needs to looks at something—anything—other than Yunho, lest he fall for the man’s intense stare.

Turbulence there mars Yunho’s usually warm gaze. Changmin doesn’t know whether to feel sorry or relieved that it’s there. On one hand, he’s done everything to keep Yunho always at arm’s length. On the other, Changmin needs him now more than ever.

There should be guilt at blatantly exploiting the man’s feelings, but there isn’t. Changmin refuses to think about how he’s taken another step to being the sociopath he fears he’s becoming. Instead he chooses to wallow in the immense relief that Yunho brings with him.

“Hyung.” Changmin says when he’s close enough. He doesn’t know about the look on his face but something has Yunho wrapping tight arms around him. Changmin is dumbfounded for all of three seconds, stiffening in the abrupt embrace. Vaguely, he thinks it’s ironic that he knows exactly what to do with a dick in his face but doesn’t know how to respond to a simple hug.

Changmin wants to return it, to hug back but—he doesn’t know how to without it being awkward and knocking down every wall he’s ever built. Taemin makes a noise that has Yunho pulling back and Changmin’s saved from having to do anything at all.

Yunho finally notices him, turning curious, questioning eyes in Changmin’s direction. The younger man heaves a sigh, the full weight of his burden evident on his shoulders. It was now or never.

Clapping a determined hand on the boy’s shoulder, Changmin introduces him.

“This—this is Taemin.”

Street Walker

Yunho/Changmin and a few ninjas.

Angst. Romance.

Sequel to Jailbait.

Street Walker Part One.

A/N: Once again, a big thanks to vaguelynormal for super-fast beta-ing and being the mastermind behind 95% of this fic. I just added words and dialogue—seriously she’s awesome :D.

A/N2:Kudos to anyone who can guess who the clergyman is ;D ‘cause I’m not sure everyone will get it D:

“That’s asking for an awful lot, Yunho-ah.” Smoke from a newly lit cigarette curls around them to add to the choking fog in the opulent backroom. The décor and the whole establishment are reminiscent of their Japanese counterparts, as is the beautiful man in front of him.

He’s dressed in an elaborate red kimono, jet black hair (whether really his own or acquired) taken down and moving freely about his shoulders and delicate face. Red lips and pale skin are painted on to accentuate dark eyes, lined with just a bit of kohl to make them just a little darker. It does well in perfectly masking his masculinity and enhancing what turns out to be a fatal feminine beauty.

Despite the effeminate face, manner, and surroundings, Yunho knows that this man is a force to be reckoned with.

“I know it’s a lot Joongie, but I’m asking you to consider.”

Jaejoong hums noncommittally and tilts his head in thought, midnight wisps obscuring his eyes and making it hard for Yunho to decipher the other man’s thoughts. Not that Yunho could even guess what went on behind those captivating dark orbs; with Jaejoong, you could never be too sure.

“You’re very adamant about this, aren’t you?” It’s more of a statement rather than a question, followed quickly by a cloud of smoke. Adamant would be an understatement. Yunho nods anyway because Taemin, for all his bright smiles and twinkling eyes, reminded him far too much of a Changmin he’d met not too long ago.

Of course the Changmin then and the Changmin now are hardly very different, but Yunho’d like to think that he was more than just another source of income to the younger man. That maybe, just maybe he—

“Can I ask you a question, Yunho?” Jaejoong says suddenly, tapping the glowing end of his cigarette onto a decorated ashtray. “Why?”

“Why? Why, what? Why am I doing this?”

A shake of his head brings a lock of hair between his eyes and Jaejoong strokes it thoughtfully before brushing it away. “Why you’re doing it is pretty obvious, Yunho-ah. But why you’re doing it like this is what I’m curious about.” Yunho is pierced with a disconcerting gaze, one that if they hadn’t been such longtime ‘friends’ would have had Yunho running in the other direction.

But as it is, through unfortunate (or was it fortunate?) circumstances, they know each other far too well. It doesn’t lessen the wariness—oh no, it adds to it in fact. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer; desperate times call for desperate measures. Yunho was pretty desperate. “Like this?”

“Yes, like this,” Jaejoong nods. “Why go through all the trouble of bringing him to me when we both know you’ve got enough latent money and power to whisk him away where no one will ever find him? That you can solve every one of your problems…simply by making him yours?” There’s a pause in which Yunho is made to feel like an animal under dissection. He probably isn’t too far off the mark.

“You realize,” Jaejoong continues, “That you may be taking him off the streets and saving him from whatever monsters you think are out there, but in bringing here to me he’ll meet that same end? Maybe worse?” Of course Yunho knows. That’s why Jaejoong was his only choice. He nods grimly. “Then why bring him at all?”

And they finally get to it. The real reason Yunho is here in the first place.

Taemin doesn’t want to be saved.

--

Changmin wants to hit him, to go into a rage and beat some sense into the boy, but knows nothing will come of it. Taemin wears a determined look, along with his usual bright smile and it’s a look Changmin’s familiar with: he’s worn it enough times himself to know what it means.

Changmin knows about pride. He knows about being helpless but without regrets. He knows about hardship and practicality and doing things because you have to and not because you want to. He knows it all and so can’t fault Taemin’s decision.

Understanding makes him that much angrier.

He wasn’t given a choice. He had no savior. He wants to be Taemin’s but the boy won’t let him. The only thing Changmin’s been allowed is to give him a choice between two evils that don’t really seem like choices at all. The boy isn’t stupid and, on some level, knows exactly where he’ll end up if he stays with Yoochun and made his choice accordingly. It’s not exactly a choice Changmin’s happy with. Not when Yunho’s more or less offered to take him in unconditionally.

It’s stubborn and stupid and it makes Changmin hypocritical because he’s been made the same offer but rejected it just as many times. Oh, he’s never said it; Yunho is careful not to do it in words, but there’s a promise in his eyes that Changmin’s tempted to give in to every single time.

--

“This is Taemin,” Yunho says without ceremony. There’s a glint in Jaejoong’s eyes that he doesn’t entirely trust, making Yunho unsure if he should grab the boy and just get the fuck out or be relieved that there’s a glint at all. It’s necessary for Jaejoong to look him over before taking him in and from the looks of it dislike is the least of their worries.

Taemin’s been told to smile his best and he’s doing an impressive job. He seems downright eager in fact. Fiddling thumbs behind his back are his only concession to nervousness.

“Seems like you’ve brought me quite the treasure here, Yunho-ah.” Jaejoong purrs. He’s liking this way too much.

Yunho continues to watch as Jaejoong ogles Taemin under the guise of inspection. From the corner of his eye he can see Changmin watching the same exchange but with a rigid jaw and hard eyes. This isn’t easy for either of them but it makes sense that Changmin’s more affected.

Jaejoong exclaims his approval, cooing something about how Taemin would fetch quite the catch and for a pretty penny too. Yunho tries not to grimace at the inevitable reality. They sit for negotiations, but there are only two specifics Yunho and Changmin are really concerned about.

The first is that Taemin be trained slowly; wait till he comes of age before he’s claimed. Second is that he gets a say in who claims him.

Jaejoong readily agrees to the second, understanding the value of a first time—it’s what he’s selling after all—but staunchly opposes the first. They’d be closing off a large variety of clients, he argues, preferences for a younger lover to keep a bed warm becoming a steady trend.

Surprisingly—or not—Taemin makes his own objection, his words quiet and painfully polite (much to Jaejoong’s delight) but with undertones of back off, hyung lacing his calm rebuke. It’d be like coming to an impasse except it’s really not their choice.

Taemin, despite his young age and deceiving appearance, knows exactly what he wants—and it’s to prove that he can do it on his own. Yunho wants to tell him that he’s got nothing to prove, that he didn’t deserve this, but there’s a look on his face that he’s seen often enough on Changmin’s to know that it’d be useless to try.

For now they settle for a yearly assessment, the verdict postponed till Taemin’s a year older. It isn’t satisfactory for any of them but the end is so close that everyone (with the exception of a pleased Jaejoong) just wants it to finish.

It’s only the question of how much now and Jaejoong hands them an exorbitant amount of cash that makes Changmin’s breath catch, Taemin’s eyes widen, and causes even Yunho to blink. They accept the money and the deal is sealed. Back in the outside world away from the cloying smoke and the out-of-place images of another country, of the world Jaejoong spins, Yunho insists on driving them to wherever because neither Changmin nor Taemin would willingly call their place of residence ‘home.’

The ride is short, maybe longer, but Changmin doesn’t know because he isn’t exactly paying attention. It isn’t until the car slows down and Changmin’s eyes are able to focus that he realizes they’re in familiar territory. Taemin tugs at his sleeve when the vehicle comes to a full stop before scooting out the door. Changmin watches him round the car and wait expectantly on the sidewalk before looking away, the scene too familiar for comfort.

He’s got fingers wrapped around the door handle ready to pull when Yunho finds his voice.

“Changmin-ah” is said in a way that can’t quite decide if it’s a question or a plea.

Changmin doesn’t know what to say to that, the look on Yunho’s face matching his tone. He can’t find the words but he still uses his mouth.

The kiss Changmin leaves Yunho with says I’msorrythankyouI—

--

He feels dirty just holding it. He forces Taemin to accept a part of the money, reminding him not unkindly that he should get used to it since he’s going to be doing it a lot in the future. It’s probably the only useful information he’s imparted on the boy but already he feels like washing out his mouth with soap.

He takes the rest of the money to an unhappy Yoochun, whose eyes narrow dangerously as he sucks on a cigarette when he hears of how his newest catch got away. The amount waylays any thoughts of possible retribution or pain he might want to inflict. A little more and he starts to rethink taking Taemin back.

Changmin walks away feeling almost as accomplished as the first time he got money for taking it up the ass.

--

A typical night on the town and Yunho is on foot rather than prowling downtown Seoul in the relative safety of his car. He’s reasonably dressed, jeans and t-shirt screaming ‘quality’ so that it sets him apart from the whores that prowl with him. Not that he hasn’t already been mistaken for one, even if those who’ve approached him quickly realized their mistake.

The real whores group themselves, but loosely enough to entice anyone who might be looking out to buy. Yunho, in contrast, walks the streets alone, mulling over the tiny observation in his head. Ensconced in one of those awaiting clusters of sin is Changmin. It’s all a matter of where to look first.

He hasn’t seen the younger man in days, work and other mundane, real life things getting in the way. His cell rings, but it’s never who he really wants to talk to. He’s so wrapped up in Changmin; the young man runs through his head constantly by the minute that Yunho doesn’t quite know how exactly he’s been able to function. Just the thought of him leaves Yunho happysadworriedaroused all at once and nothing to show for it except for a dull ache in his chest and a consistent throb in his groin.

It’s the oddest feeling to care about someone this much—because Yunho does care, no doubt about it—and react this obviously to another person—‘tenting problem’ would be an understatement when faced with a Changmin in any state—but have no clear indication whether said care was returned (Yunho isn’t ugly and is far from being an inconsiderate lover. Reactions weren’t a problem).

But Yunho isn’t particularly keen about reactions since he can get the exact same one from any number of given people, just that the enjoyment would be less on his part. Which explains (sort of) why he’s braving this strip of depravity in search of the one person worth saving. Just one question:

Does Changmin want to be saved?

--

Another wall in another alley means being on his knees with another dick in his mouth and rough fingers carding through his hair- just another typical night.

Changmin’s more or less resigned to his fate these days, the coming and going of faceless people and letting them use his body is starting to feel oddly comforting. The pull on his hair and the demands for more, the blowjobs, the sex, the money that comes afterward—they are things that make his reality…real.

This is far from the life he’d imagined for himself, the future he would’ve had. One minute there was a mother, a father, sisters, a house with a white picket fence—even a little dog. Then the next minute—

Nothing.

Life is seldom fair and when it is, it’s grudgingly so. Charred wood and the choking smell of what had been a normal life burning away to make the sky a black, black abyss. In a flash of heat and flames there’s no more family, no more house—even the dog has gone. Instead there was a man, a lady, and a big, big house. Bigger than his, but fuller, not as clean and a lot of other children. The other kids were nice but—the man. The man was too nice. The man liked to touch.

The lady didn’t even notice (didn’t want to).

It wasn’t long before he found out it was wrong. Ran away the moment he realized that an older man inching his way up his thighs wasn’t right. Whether genius or stupidity, he runs away and right into Yoochun’s open arms. Both a blessing and a curse, it’s the only thing he’s known since.

“Swallow.” The man says and Changmin can feel he’s close. He keeps sucking but blinks wide eyes up; it contrasts with the nearly picturesque image of him with a cock shoved down his throat and usually does it for his male customers.

He doesn’t usually like to swallow but this one pays extra for the luxury, even if the rumpled clergy collar hiding what Changmin knows is a wooden cross beneath the faded black of pastor’s robes is a clear indication that he can barely afford it. He steels himself and makes the appropriate sounds when liquid heat coats the back of his throat. His gag reflex is virtually nonexistent (practice makes perfect after all), even when convulsing shudders turn into a rough thrust of the hips. Changmin doesn’t even try to slow it down, fingers curling around tensed thighs for some kind of anchor.

Changmin watches with a kind of detached fascination as the man rides through his orgasm. You’re too handsome, Changmin thinks, to be cloistered in some church. Changmin can feel hard muscle beneath his fingers, caught a glimpse of a lean physique just beneath the disheveled robes. He has a face much more suited to the screaming of adoring fan girls rather than pious praying. His cheeks dimple even without a smile, every facial expression creating an indentation. He’d have a kind mouth if it weren’t pressed into a thin line to keep from crying out. A chiseled jaw and high cheekbones finish off a handsome face, but it’s the dark winged brows that give the man character.

Changmin stands slowly when it’s finished, dusting off his knees and giving the man time to right himself. When Changmin’s upright the collar’s straightened and the dark robes rearranged, even if a bit wrinkled in places Changmin gripped for support. He’s given a wad of money and the sign of the cross in his direction, along with what may or may not be a muttered blessing; the clergyman’s gone.

Changmin counts a couple of more bills than what the man normally gives and Changmin knows he won’t be back for a while. Probably to save up for the next encounter. Pity, that. It’s not often he gets customers he wouldn’t mind fucking him. Especially if it’s someone easy on the eyes.

He pockets the money as he makes his way out of the alley, rotating his jaw to ease the slight ache and discovers his throat is a bit sore. There’s funny taste in his mouth too, one he isn’t quite fond of. The small bottle of mouthwash he keeps on hand only helps a little, even after the second rinse and repeat. Changmin continues with his minor clean up but decides to opt for a more thorough job before setting out again. He turns a corner only to wish he hadn’t.

He can’t quite believe the scene in front of him and maybe it’s better if he didn’t. He’ll never be prepared for the sight of someone else in Yunho’s arms.

Heechul is trailing suggestive fingers down Yunho’s chest and squeezing biceps with the other set. While Yunho sets a gap between them, it’s not like he’s pushing the other man away either. And who would, really? Heechul, even at his most annoyed, has a kind of feminine quality that rivals Yunho’s Jaejoong.

Jaejoong. Yunho’s Jaejoong. Changmin prefers not to think about him, for the obvious reasons (the man is dangerous, in more ways than one).

“Oh, and there he is. You have the worst timing Max,” Heechul—or Rella when he’s working—tsks. “U-Know here was just about to show me a good time.”

Yunho throws a look sharply in Changmin’s direction, mouth poised to say words Changmin is convinced will be the end of him (them). Changmin doesn’t (ever) want to hear it and just turns to go back the way he came. Heechul beats both of them to it.

“Too bad you came along. He’s been looking for you anyway.” Changmin stops midstride, half way wanting to shoot the ache in his chest and the other half hoping Yunho won’t let him do it. “Maybe some other time, Tiger.” The androgynous man purrs coyly before he’s gone with a flip of his hair.

Left alone, Changmin has no desire for things to become awkward, even if things already are. He says the only thing he can think of.

“So where do you wanna fuck?”

“Changmin.”

“I was just sucking someone off and I don’t see your car so we can’t go anywhere but I know this one place—let me shower first then we can—”

“Changmin—”

“—do whatever you want, promise. You won’t even have to pay for it. I’ll do it for free. I owe you big time, hyung. Just—”

“No. wait—stop.” Yunho grinds out, heart clenching in that familiar aching way whenever he’s with Changmin. He knows what it is—has always known—but never said it because the gap was—is—still too big. “Listen to me Changmin-ah.” He says more firmly when it looks like Changmin’s going to go off again. “This. This thing—you and I. It’s never been about the money. It hasn’t been all about the sex either.”

Changmin gasps, a sharp intake of breath at what he knows is coming. Is it stupid that half of him wants it, but the other half wants to bolt?

“Hyung. Hyung, wait. Don’t—”

“Don’t what Changmin?” Yunho hisses, anger a white hot flash as his heart aches, tired of waiting, tired of wanting, tired of hoping—coming so close but still being too far away. “Don’t care about you? Don’t want you, don’t touch you, don’t think about you every fucking minute of the day and know what you’re doing? Don’t think of you as mine and still let you do it? Don’t what, Changmin? Don’t what?”

“Don’t…” he falters, words caught in his throat. Yunho’s looking at him, all angry and fierce and bleeding heart and all he can think of is, “—don’t love me.”

There’s a moment where Yunho looks like Changmin stole his heart and tore it in two, stomped on it, ran it over with a truck, and spat on it right before he lets out a little scoff and says, too quietly, “…too late.”

Ouch. Oh, hurt. Pain. Ow. Ow. Ow. It’s entirely possible that if Changmin didn’t feel so numb, that would be his own heart. He’s pretty sure there’s a tragic look on his face asking Yunho why? but whether or not it’s really there, Yunho speaks anyway.

“Don’t ask me why because hell if I know. I could have anyone and you wouldn’t be my first choice. Why make it harder for myself by loving you? Why should I suffer for feeling this way? You aren’t exactly the easiest person to love Changmin.” Yunho wants to come closer, to close the gap between them, both physically and metaphorically. Even if Changmin looks like he’s going to run off any moment, he doesn’t make a move. It’s not exactly meeting half way, but Yunho thinks it may be a start.

“Then—”

“Why again?” Yunho says more quietly but with no less intensity. “I stopped asking why a long time ago, Changmin-ah. I just do, isn’t that enough?”

Of course it was enough. More than enough. “I just. I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” Yunho interrupts looking like he’s thrown caution to the wind. “Can’t love me? Don’t want me? I’m not—I’m not asking you to come away with me Changmin, because I know you won’t. Even if all I want to do is whisk you away from here, away from this life, you won’t let yourself come with me.”

He sighs, something like a cross between resignation and gathering courage. “What I am asking is to let me love you and take you away little by little. Let me give you what you deserve. Then maybe, when I’ve given enough, you’ll realize that hey, you can love me back.” Wide-eyed silence rings in the midst of what is more or less Yunho’s confession of undying love.

“That’s…a lot you’re asking for,” is all Changmin finds to say, half tragic, half convinced, but mostly just wanting to throw himself into Yunho’s arms and letting himself be whisked away like Yunho wants.

“I know. I know it’s a lot. But…” There’s a look on his face, one he directs at Changmin, and it’s his heart in his eyes, pouring out the windows of his soul and Changmin wants to bask in it because it’s his, all his and—“Is it asking for too much?”

…No, no it isn’t.

title: A dear friend

author: haeym 

rating: G

summary: Yunho has neighborhood's cutest friend. At least he himself thinks so.

Yunho walks with him to school every morning. Sunny days, windy days, snowy days. When it rains, Yunho always remembers to take an umbrella with him, big enough for them both to fit underneath it. He always waits for Yunho at their doorstep, never late, always punctual. When Yunho sees him coming, he hurries away from the kitchen window to put on his shoes and to fetch his backpack.

In that order, yes.

Mama Jung always scolds him because his muddy shoes are making a huge mess on the floor but can't help but to coo over her son and his new-found best friend.

Other kids call them the freak couple but Yunho doesn't mind the slightest. A beaming smile on his face he walks to school, proud of his silent but seemingly cute friend. When the kids start to sing stupid and partly insulting rhymes about them, Yunho just shouts that they are just jealous of their everlasting friendship and Changmin wouldn't ever want to be their friend.

Changmin, yes. It's actually a name given by Yunho. The other is very quiet, only occasional snorts and puffs and huffs leave his mouth, so Yunho took the liberty to give him a name. He has already a several pet name variations of it. Chami, Changminnie, Changdola are on the growing list. When Yunho thinks Changmin has been extremely cool, he calls him 'Choikang', the strongest.

Last time was when he waited for Yunho in front of the school for the whole day, and on top of it, in the pouring rain. The name Choikang was yet again well deserved.

Sometimes Yunho calls him dongsaeng too. After all, he has always wanted a little brother. Of course he loves his little sister Jihye a lot, but a little brother to play with miniature cars would be awesome.

Changmin can't really play with cars though, he's a bit clumsy. Optimist as he is, Yunho is sure that he will learn! He partly remembers the time when he was clumsy himself too, so all is well. Changmin will learn, Yunho knows for sure.

Even if he can't play with Yunho, he is a great company, sitting beside the sandbox as Yunho drives his red and blue cars around it.

For time to time, Yunho thinks the reason why he likes to hang out with him is food. He's looking at him with those big, round eyes and nose slightly twitching whenever Yunho has treats with him. Mom had forbidden him feed Changmin, but who could possibly resist those pleading eyes. And Changmin is not picky! He eats whatever Yunho offers him, the spicy noodles and tteokbokki. Spicy things might be his favorite food, Yunho muses as he feeds home-made kimchi to Changmin.

Another thing mom had forbidden Yunho to do was to bring him inside the house. This makes Yunho incredibly sad and he is sure Changmin is feeling sad too, despite the fact the boy doesn't really show any emotions. Mama Jung says it's unsanitary to let him sleep in Yunho's bed for example.

Well, Yunho hasn't seen anyone bringing a deer into their home anyways.

So instead, Yunho sits on their doorstep, Changmin laying beside him, long and thin legs folded underneath him. Yunho scratches his ear absentmindedly, the fur soft and silky under his fingertips. Changmin seems very content, he always enjoys when Yunho pets him.

Earlier than morning Yunho had fed him a slice of bread from his packed school lunch. Changmin had eaten it super fast and accidentally nipped on Yunho's thumb. It surprised Yunho, but since he hadn't bitten too hard, it was okay.

Yunho lets out an unrestrained laughter when he thinks about it now. Changmin jerks a little, surprised by Yunho and he turns his head to look at him. His nostrils tremble. The boy smiles at deer before he wishes him a goodnight, hops up and goes to the door, waving his hands at the deer rising cautiously on it's wobbly legs.

The next morning something unusual happens.

When Yunho gets out of the door, wondering where Changmin was, he almost stumbles into a young boy, maybe a few years younger than he is. The boy stands there, stark naked and nose red from the cold. He has big ears and huge, dark doe eyes and his mouth is slightly open. Blush is dancing on his chubby cheeks.

Yunho stares at him, astonishment clear on his face, before he utters out a word.

”Changmin!”

title: Very lovely bloodflow

author: haeym

pairing: Yunho/Changmin

rating: R

summary: Yunho would never give away the centuries he has spent with Changmin.

a/n: Based on this. I mean, come on, how come no one has written anything about it? Also, yes, vampire!AU.

The wooden floor feels cold under his palms.

He feels the sheer layer of dust dancing under his fingertips, dusk setting in the room as he sits on the floor, body placed exactly from across the door. The purple hues prance around him, furious and twirling until they meet the dark door. That is where the tender light is coming from, soft, warm light. It grazes the old flooring, gold trickling into the cracks of the worn wood.

It warms Yunho's heart, his long-cold chest swelling with affection.

But he is tired. Even if he can still feel the coldness of the floor and the coldness the white stone wall emits, he knows it's coming, creeping around the corner, preying on his soulless body, licking his limbs and kissing his pale skin. The dusk colors his cheeks red and Yunho pretends that he can still feel his heart beating, its residue making his fingers tremble.

He closes his eyes, lids heavy. His breath dances in the chilly air, windows helping the whatever warmth there is left to escape. The glass panels are crying, fog outside seeping through making a home on the smooth, cool surface. Yunho hears it, feels the air moving in the room as the tiny droplets gather and blur the view to the backyard garden.

It is like naïve faith. Harshness of the world hidden away by such a childish action. Yunho once had it too. Faith. Such determination and belief still tempted him but he finds himself incapable of hold it anymore. Sometimes he does it though, or at least pretends, for Changmin's sake.

It's not like the other doesn't know. Spending several centuries with him has its disadvantages. Why would he even try to hide something from him in the end? Changmin calls him idiot because of that.

Atmosphere shifts.

The spider mother feeds her offspring and Changmin walks outside the room. The flooring creaks under his weight, his feet blocking the lovely warm rays coming in the room Yunho currently sits in. He sighs, something he hasn't done in a long, long while. In an eternity. It feels so weird, inhaling the stiff air before puffing it out. It wheezes in his lungs, like a choir of people pleading and begging. Praying for something to start working again.

Yunho knows better: it won't, ever again.

He keeps his eyes closed when the younger male opens the door. Knees propped up and his back against the wall, he hears him closing it after his wake and turning back to look at him. Yunho is still, a faint smile lingering on his lips as always. He feels Changmin's gaze on him, his golden eyes scanning his form slumped against the tiles. He knows Changmin can sense his weariness which leaves no room for silly tricks.

The room hold its tension. Changmin stands. Yunho sits. Palms against the floor, absorbing the strength from the dead wood, he opens his eyes. And smiles.

“You're stupid hyung.”

Yunho laughs his trademark laughter with crinkles in the corners of his eyes. The fierce orange that once filled his strong gaze now gone, only a spark of it adorning his orbs anymore.

“Tell me something new.”

Changmin stares at him with a blank face, annoyance spiking his brows.

“Stop hiding from me.”

“I am not hiding, I just wanted to visit this room since I like it. And it seemed lonely.”

“This is exactly the same as the other sixteen unused rooms this house has. Besides, rooms cannot feel loneliness. They aren't living creatures.”

“Then what is this emotion my lifeless body feels when I am not near you?”

Sadness flashes deep in Changmin eyes and Yunho feels instantly horrible. The younger walks towards him with an unreadable expression before lowering his body and straddling Yunho, hesitation dribbling from his features but want casting a shadow over his movements.

His thighs are thinner than before but Yunho can't scold him because he's pretty sure that Changmin can feel his hip bones digging into his milky white flesh. Yunho draws his knees a little closer against Changmin's back, arousal and hunger spiking inside him.

Palms ash gray with dust he caresses the younger, forefinger drawing a line from his cheek to the tip of his jaw. His eyes follow the movement of his finger but it is Changmin's lips which eventually hold his interest. They tremble, so slightly that a normal human couldn't ever see it, sense it, but Yunho can. He reads the invisible signs the other sends, reads his thoughts and his emotions. The strongest bond, some say.

More than love, what a frightening thought.

Changmin leans against him, tilting his head and giving Yunho a perfect access to his neck. The blueish blood circulating in his system dyes him dead but to Yunho he's just immortal. Eternal being, not dead. Dead is such an absolute label.

Yunho pressed his nose against his neck, the cold tip giving Changmin's excitement a kick. He feels the younger tense in his arms, whole body electrified by a simple touch, a simple gesture. Right hand on the other side of Changmin's neck, Yunho holds him gently. Changmin draws circles on his neck, blows cool air into his thick hair causing mahogany strands to rise and rearrange.

It's illegal. Forbidden.

No doubt an act causing such enormous pleasure is denied.

What a sweet temptation.

Yunho strokes him with graceful fingers.

Changmin gasps slightly under his touch, pressing his slender body flush against Yunho's. It's their secret, hidden away from the curious eyes. It's pure ecstasy, far greater from the satisfaction you can get from a sexual intercourse.

Yunho never quite understood why it is forbidden, why is causing his partner, lover, his one and only, such pleasure forbidden. Why loving someone unconditionally was forbidden. Why giving someone your everything was denied.

Changmin always says that the rules are meant to be bent and broken.

The first touch of Changmin's skin against his lips paralyzes his body, makes him ache and almost writhe. His hunger drives him blindly forward, lips seeking for the nectarine they have tasted before. Despite the force his body is driven by, his touch is gentle, ever so gentle.

Yunho lets his tongue slip past his plump lips, full and glistening with saliva, the blood in his veins painting them purple. He cannot feel them, he cannot feel his fingers still caressing Changmin, the numbness is swallowing his body as whole. Eyes closed, orbs tinted with passionate orange hidden as he licks Changmin's neck, long neck with invisible scars from similar acts happened more than once before.

When he lets his lips touch the younger male again, Changmin shivers violently, pleasure taking control of his body. Yunho can smell him in the stale air, arousal tinting it, twisting it. The boy with golden hair undulates his hips, gracefully, fingers gripping into the sleeves of Yunho's white dress shirt and nails piercing the cotton.

Wounds will heal but you can't fix something so vain.

He can feel Changmin's arousal against his lower stomach, the strong curve of his erection insistent. He wants to touch him but he cannot, not until he has drunk his share.

The share that will keep him going for a while.

Yunho lets his teeth sink, slowly, the sharp tips drawing dark crimson blood when he nibbles and suckles, liquid bitter yet so incredibly delicious on his tongue. Changmin is rigid with want and pleasure on him his arms, the older caging him with his hands.

Pulse of a dead heart thrums steadily against Yunho's lips dyed with the color of passion.

Changmin presses his cheek against his head, skin dampened with sweat as he burrows closer, closer, body molding against Yunho's taut form as he searches for the friction. He grinds down, movements strained as he tries to keep his neck in place, allowing the older to fill his need. The dust around them moves as Changmin breathes out.

The older man allows his hand to drop on Changmin's hip, feather-light touches caressing. His hand drops lower and lower, fingers trailing until he cups his hand around Changmin's upper thigh, grasp strong and determined but intention gentle. The man is his treasure, his companion, his lover - everything, the most precious thing he has ever had - and he wants to show it to everyone, he wants Changmin to be sure of it every day, every second, every moment. He wants to drown Changmin in his affection.

“Please.”

A shattered moan breaks the shuffling noises, a plead in form of a gasp for more running down Yunho's back. Changmin is hard, aroused beyond the line pure sexual acts draw. He shudders as Yunho sinks even deeper, right hand steady on his neck and left stroking his thigh. The man on his arms trembles, his composition almost fragile compared to the grip Yunho has on him.

The front of Changmin's trousers is wet, precome rubbing on to Yunho's shirt as well. Normally Changmin would judge himself for being the immature, the lack of power and the lack of control embarrassing but now he is open in front of Yunho. Stripped from the means for defense, ready to be devoured - and only because he himself wants so. Pleasure ravages his body and mind as Yunho feeds, warmth changing its owner as the life flows from him to Yunho's numb body.

It affects Yunho's body too, it's inevitable. The way Changmin shares his heat is making him feel light-headed, his own arousal burning his body down but everything he can do is to suck and lick the liquid dribbling out of Changmin's punctured neck.

Changmin purrs, feverish rush holding his body as he drinks from him, saliva mixed in his blood flow causing ecstasy to erupt.

Changmin is the sweetest thing he has ever tasted, bitterness of his nature distinct in the flavor yet the aftertaste is sweet, cloyingly sweet as it burns his tongue, the taste of life and death so irresistible in his mouth. Changmin responds his movements so well, the form of his body curving and turning, as if Yunho was molding him in his hands. His left hand is squeezing Yunho's shoulder, pleasure and pain making him twist the exclusive fabric in his palm. Right is trapped between their bodies, palm rubbing against the straining front of his pants. Changmin is so close, Yunho knows, his gentle caresses and suckles on Changmin's neck are urging him forward, mouth leaving whispers in the air.

Just a little, just a little, one harsh suck from Yunho's lips and he jerks and lets go, muscles straining and pleasure finally swallowing his body.

Dust settles around them as Yunho licks his lips.

He peppers kisses on the wounded neck which has already stopped bleeding, the process of healing started. He feels so sated, the forbidden act yet again performed.

The younger man is lethargic, slumped against his body. He apologizes and thanks him as he proceeds to kiss him sweetly, lips tasting like Changmin's blood.

It's good for a while again, it's okay, sufficient. It's acceptable as long as no one knows. Their shared secret – no, their secret – hidden away.

At least he will live for a little longer again. Changmin won't, not in this state, but when the time comes, he will let him feed so they can spend more time together. Just a little longer. A vicious loop continues, but if it means that the eternity is theirs, he is not going to break free from it.