1st Part

“I hate it, I hate it so much,” whispered at the end, bitter tasting and it drains him, every syllable said bringing him a little more closer to his knees until he sits with his back against the door, folding and unfolding his fingers. Steeples falling, rebuilding.

“Yunho, what do we do?”

There is a heartbeat’s worth of silence before the words are out of Yunho’s mouth, a little too fast and a little too loud, regret-tinged breath following after.

“This has nothing to do with us.”

“Define us.” 

Jaejoong raises his voice a little, meeting Yunho’s eyes when he looks up from his hands. 

“Tell me again how they aren’t us.”

“Leave band politics out of this; how can you even be sure anyways?” 

“Can you honestly say you haven’t noticed anything? Nothing at all?” he retorts, skirting round the question.

He starts twining his fingers together again, Yunho watching him, always watching but never doing anything beyond the call of duty.

“Junho is a bad liar, I can’t just do nothing,” he finally says, voice back to something over a whisper and this is Jaejoong at his best, his worst; loyal to a breaking point.

“You’ll have to.”

“And watch it come undone knowing I could have stopped it? It’s not that this has nothing to do with us, it’s just the fact that you don’t want to have anything to do with this.”

“Listen to yourself, Jae-ah. Just listen. You could have stopped it? Nothing is ever just that simple anymore, okay? It’s not just the fact of sitting him down and talking sense to him because at this point and time, do you even know who to lay the blame on?”

“Yoochun loves him,” he hisses back in a reply that’s almost furious, getting up so he can talk without looking up to Yunho; without feeling small and naïve and just so utterly hopeless. 

“He loves him so fucking much and you still don’t know who’s at fault here?”

“Is it that simple? Untangling who loves who more and why?”

In the next room, Changmin turns the music up on his headphones to drown out the sound of voices, doors slamming. Jaejoong stalks past the empty rooms and some part of him makes him wait a few seconds at the door; another part of him expecting another set of footsteps to his and a voice saying no, wait Jaejoong. He turns at the silence and Yunho is standing in the corridor to the living room, wordless.

2nd Part

And now I was back here, in my home under the familiar canvas roof, kissing his honey-coloured stomach, feeling his hard abdominal muscles under my fingers. I tried hard to bring myself out of the memory but my heart rate had escalated extraordinarily and I was finding it hard to calm it down. I bent down to cover his whole belly in short kisses – a long delayed rush of thankfulness for him. 

I was being filled with the burning need to thank him with my whole soul, pleasure him with my whole soul, and kiss him with my whole soul.

My hands crept down past the top of his pants and journeyed until the coarse hair was curling over my fingers. As I started slowly massaging his testicles, my spare hand pulled his pants further down.

I could feel him stirring rapidly under my erotic touches so I sprung upwards to kiss him as his eyes fluttered open in bewilderment.

He was almost gasping into my mouth as my hand determinedly curled around his swelling member and began pumping it rigorously.

Occasionally I could feel his hand pressing against my chest, trying to tell me in the only way he could, to stop it, whilst my tongue kept his one captive. But I wasn’t willing to stop and Yunho knew it too.

Even as his body stiffened under me, my fingers bathing in his cum, I couldn’t stop kissing him. But he eventually started nudging me away again to catch his breath back.

I wasn’t finished though. I wanted him to be screaming for me, I wanted him to feel so good that he’d lose his vision and his hearing and I was fairly certain that another flimsy hand job wouldn’t be capable of creating such a sensation. I wasn’t physically capable yet of breaking his celibacy but I’d darn well do the next best thing.

--END—

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