Press the Reset 1/2
Title: Press the Reset 1/2 (physical abuse in this part)
Pairing: Junsu/Jaejoong
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Maybe one day I can be their manager and make it feel like I own them, but alas, I do not.
Summary: To everyone else, Jaejoong is a lost cause. To me, it's a matter of being employed or not. Okay, and I may be sort of a fanboy anyway. The kid is a dick though. So I'm either going to save his singing career or end up killing him. Or end up loving him.
Warning: Physical abuse in part one; and really kinky dirty violent sex in part two
A/N: This fic is my MY HONGKEI (vk_loli) and JaeSu is her OTP and she is my bestest kpop/jrock buddy and one of the ones I have known the longest and one of the few people that I can call a true, bestest friend, and even though there are times when we don't talk for long periods, as soon as we start chatting again, it's like we don't even miss a beat.
Warning: Physical abuse in this part
I have a confession to make.
I am in love with Kim Jaejoong.
Not that it’s so surprising. I mean, it’s Kim Jaejoong. The boy is incredibly attractive, and has a wicked mouth and an even wickeder body. I was excited when I saw his audition. He had a wide vocal range, and he looked the part of pretty boy idol. Well, he could have looked that part if his hair wasn’t long and his skin not tattooed. When asked though, Jaejoong sang a rock song, and just like that, Lee Sooman decided to branch out into rock music.
He debuted as “Hero”, and he literally rocked. His voice was gravely and then pure, and then sexy. I watched him from the sidelines and grew more and more infatuated with him as he slowly destroyed himself through alcohol and arrogance.
I wasn’t surprised when I was called into Lee Sooman’s office and told that I was going to be a manager for Kim Jaejoong. The boy changed managers like most people change socks.
“Junsu-shi, you managed to keep Kim Heechul from destroying his career. Do the same with Jaejoong.”
And that was the totality of my meeting.
I moved into Jaejoong’s apartment that night, despite his protests.
“Look,” I told him while trying not to stare at his exposed chest (He refused to put on a shirt). “You’re lucky you’re such an amazing musician. You’re lucky you’re so attractive. You’re lucky you’re making Lee Sooman a lot of money, because honestly, your attitude isn’t worth it. I’m not telling you to change who you are, because the fans love Hero. but if you don’t start acting more like Kim Jaejoong and a little less like an idiot, then you’re career is going to tank before it even starts.”
He scoffed at me and went to his room. Which was fine by me.
I spent the night memorizing his schedule for the next two weeks. He had a lot to do. I wondered if he found time to sleep. He had been in high demand since his debut, but that didn’t mean he had to kill himself to promote his album. One of Heechul’s main problems was due to lack of sleep.
I don’t know if he slept. In the morning I called for some take out for him to eat. He really was too skinny.
He sauntered into the kitchen at a little after six am. All he wore were red sweat pants. The edges of his hipbones jutted out from the top. His piercings (both nipples and navel) glinted in the morning light. His long blond hair was ratty, falling just past the tattooed skin of his shoulders. I had a desperate urge to brush it.
Of course, then the kid opened his mouth and destroyed any remote semblance of attraction I may have had for him.
“Now this is more like it,” he said when he saw the food and coffee ready for him. “About time they sent me someone who knows they’re my slave.”
I smacked the back of his head.
“What the fuck, bitch!” he said, turning around with eyes flaming.
“If you’ll remember,” I said, almost in his face. “I am ten years older than you.”
“So? I’m better looking and a star. What the fuck does--”
This time I slapped his face.
I think he was too shocked to do anything.
“Eat your breakfast. You have an interview at seven-thirty and you are not going to be late.”
He opened his mouth to protest. With a smirk, I reached forward and twisted his pierced nipple, pulling a gasp from him. “You are always late, and when you’re late, you make things difficult for everyone around you. I’m going to teach you respect, even if I have to beat it into your skin.” With one more twist that made him gasp, I let go. “Now, eat.”
I sat back down at the table, arms crossed. He watched me. His eyes calculated me, trying to figure out what the fuck I was. I wasn’t a pushover. I know he was used to getting his way.
With a final sniff, he turned and filled up a plate full of rice. I think he ate more than he should have as a bit of rebellion, but honestly, he was too skinny. I wasn’t sure when he was going to eat again that day, so I kept my mouth shut. And he smirked like he got away with something.
Compared to Heechul, Kim Jaejoong was going to be easy.
He was a bitch all day. Whining, demanding, mean. I couldn’t hit him in public, but after a particularly rude comment to a girl at a radio station, I dragged him to a bathroom, made sure it was empty and slapped him a few times, screaming at him.
Again he smirked, because he thought I was losing my cool, thought he was getting to me and that I would be gone in a few days just like the rest of them.
I was exhausted by the end of that first day. The first week was hell.
We fought constantly behind closed doors. He shouted at me, and only once raised his hand back to me, but I snagged his wrist and twisted it, until his body was on the floor and his face against my arm.
“I have a black belt in kung fu,” I told him. “Don’t piss me off.”
“Oh, but you can piss me off,” he said and tried to buck me off him.
“Yes. I can. Who are you going to bitch to about it?”
“Fuck off. Get off me.”
I stood up and released him. “Go to bed. You need to sleep.”
I turned my back on him and went to my own room. Being that close to his body, feeling his energy on my skin was not a good thing. I passed off the lust as starstruck.
The next week, his band quit.
I wasn’t surprised. No one was surprised. Except for him. His activities were put on hold, and Hero was lost.
♪♪♪♪♪
Lee Sooman did not drop him, nor did he cancel his contract. But only because I begged him not to. I begged him to give me two months. Two months and Jaejoong would be different, be better.
“Fine. But in two months, if he’s not ready, you’re both fired.”
I went back to Jaejoong’s apartment with a firm resolve, and found a very drunk Jaejoong passed out on the couch. With a sigh, I woke him up, cleaned up the throw up on the floor and on his face and body. I put him in new clothes and then put him to bed.
I sat on his bed, back against the wall and watched him sleep.
Kim Jaejoong had a hard life. He’d been in an orphanage until he was eight. A wonderful family with eight older girls adopted him, changed his family name, and his identity. But he resisted a lot of those changes. He loved his sisters. And he talked about them during interviews all the time. His adoptive parents were cool, too, he’d say. But I knew the struggles they had with him as he grew into his teens. When he was sixteen, he tried out and was accepted into SM Entertainment. And now at nineteen, finally able to debut, only to have it ripped away from him, I wasn’t surprised that he’d gotten drunk.
A few hours into the night, I got up to take a shower.
When I was done, I panicked, because Jaejoong was not in the apartment. I called his cell. He sent me a text to fuck off, and I paced as night was replaced by dawn. At almost five, Jaejoong stumbled in, another man wrapped around him, their lips together. Jaejoong had a hand shoved in the other man’s pants and he was begging the man to fuck him.
I stepped up to him, grabbed his arm and pulled them apart.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I demanded to Jaejoong.
“What do you care?” He stuck his tongue out.
I turned to who I recognized as Yoochun, another SM singer. He smiled, said hello, and then Jaejoong was screaming at me while I tried to talk to Yoochun. Jaejoong punched my arm, and I twisted and slapped his face. He reeked of alcohol again.
“I hate you!” Jaejoong screamed, and lunged for me.
I blocked his charge easily, grabbed his arm and knocked him to his knees. I kept his arm twisted behind his back. He whimpered, trying to move. I yanked his arm, pulling a cry from him.
I looked over at Yoochun. “Get out.”
He nodded, and hastily back peddled.
Jaejoong was bent over, his other hand on the floor trying to support him as I lifted his arm even more.
“See this?” I said. “Bowing. You do it when you’re introduced to someone, or to show respect. Somewhere along the line, you forgot about this. And if I have to reteach you then I have to reteach you.”
“Fuck you,” he muttered.
I pulled on his arm again. His other hand came off the floor and I easily grabbed it. I pushed a knee into his back until his face was against the floor.
“This? This is called groveling. On your knees, face to the floor. You should become really familiar with the floor.”
He gasped, probably trying to tell me to fuck off. His voice hitched midway and turned into a cry. His back heaved with heavy breaths.
“Lesson learned?”
He didn’t say anything. I got off him. “Get up and go clean yourself up.”
I moved away from him and went to the kitchen. I heard him get up, and then a few minutes later, the shower started. I thought about making breakfast and then shook my head. Jaejoong wasn’t going to feel good enough to eat it. He’d need sleep first.
There was more news about Hero. More news and speculations about his future. SM Entertainment was refusing to comment on his behavior.
I sighed and went to Jaejoong’s room. Even through the closed door, I could hear him crying. I turned the knob (I’d removed the lock the week before).
“Leave me alone,” he shouted and threw something at me, but it went wide and thunked against the door.
I moved into the room, to his bed and sat on the edge of it. He curled up as far away from me as he could.
“Just ... leave me alone ...”
“I can’t do that, Jaejoong.”
“Your job, I know. Bull shit. You wouldn’t care if it wasn’t.”
“If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have been in Sooman’s office this afternoon pleading your case.”
He sniffed and his body stilled.
“He’s ready to kick you out. And good riddance. But I asked him to give you some time.”
“So nice of you. I’ll start packing.”
“If you don’t straighten up, then I lose my job too.”
“Like I said. You wouldn’t care if it wasn’t your job to care.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it. Because honestly, if I debated that, then I’d probably confess to him.
He was quiet. His alarm suddenly started beeping. Six am. I shut it off, and then climbed into his bed. He stiffened, but didn’t protest as I curled up behind him, and put an arm around his waist.
“Go to sleep, Jaejoong.”
His breathing turned to gasping as he tried not to cry.
I slept only briefly. I woke up about three hours later when he moved. He sat up, legs crossed, facing away from me. His sweat pants rode low enough that I could see the top of his ass crack.
My fingers itched to touch it. I rolled away from him and climbed from the bed.
“You have twenty minutes to come out for something to eat.”
“I-I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care. Twenty minutes.” I left the kitchen. I ordered take out. And watched the time. At twenty one minutes, I went back to his room.
He was where I left him.
“I told you to come out and eat.”
“Fuck off.”
“You really don’t get this do you. I’m the only thing standing between you and a future entertainment career.” I moved slowly into his room. “One would think you would listen to me.”
“What if I don’t want to do this anymore?”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “Then go. You’re too troublesome. You’re a bastard. You treat people like your slaves. You have no sense of self respect or self worth and you take it out on those around you.” I kneeled on the bed and shuffled over to him while I talked. “You’re an amazing singer, Jaejoong. And when you put your mind to it, you’re an amazing composer. But drop the attitude, or no one will ever work with you again. Now come and eat.”
“I said I wasn’t hungry.”
I smirked at his back. “I was sort of hoping you’d say that.” Before he could react, I grabbed his long hair and yanked. He cried out as he fell to his back, hands going to my wrists trying to lessen the pressure. I heard a few hairs rip as I moved off the bed and dragged him across it.
“You fucking bitch! Fucker! Let go!” He kicked his legs and tried twisting, and then tumbled off the bed, landing hard on his hip. He screamed when I didn’t loosen the hold on his hair. He tried to grab me, but I yanked his head back. His hands went back to my wrists. His pained gasps echoed through the room.
“Come and eat or I drag you there by your hair.”
“Fuck off,” he said through gritted teeth.
I turned and started walking. He resisted and I twisted my wrist. He whimpered and then like a good little pet crawled after me to the kitchen. I released his hair as soon as we were in the kitchen. He stayed on his knees and curled in on himself, rubbing his head.
“Eat,” I said, “or do I have to force you to do that too?”
“I hate you,” he muttered.
“I don’t hate you,” I said. “If I hated you, I would have left the minute everyone else did. Now sit at the table and eat, or should I put your food on the floor like a dog?”
He very slowly rose and moved to a chair. He took a couple bites, and I knew he was having trouble swallowing, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d puke most of it back up. He was really hungover.
I sighed and got up. I poured him a cup of coffee and sweetened it with the creamer he liked. I set it down, and then took the plate from him. He didn’t protest, but I felt his eyes on me as I dumped his food into a container for later, and then only put a few scoops of plain rice on the plate.
“Here. Just eat this to help absorb the alcohol in your system.”
I sat across from him and waited until he was done eating the rice. He stood up, and I cleared my throat.
“What?” he said, very snappy.
“I didn’t say you could leave, did I?”
“No.” He put his dishes in the sink (which was good) and then he left the kitchen.
He took another shower and when he was done, I was in his room waiting for him. I stood in the middle of the room with my arms crossed and watched him slip on a pair of cotton sleep pants.
When he tried to move past me to the bed, I put my hand on his chest. There was a small struggle which I won. He turned fiery eyes to me. “Let me go.”
“No.”
I steered him over to the bed. His body shivered, and I wondered what he was thinking I was planning on doing to him. I liked that he was scared. That meant I was getting to him. But I didn’t want him to be afraid of me.
“Sit,” I said and pushed his shoulder. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he sat on the floor in front of me.
Before he could turn around to demand what I was doing, I picked up the brush I had laid on the bed and attacked the ends of his hair with it. The next noise out of his throat was one of surprise and his whole body stiffened. I brushed the lower half, careful to make sure all the tangles were out. And then even after I had brushed it all, I continued.
“Are you going to braid it now?” he asked snidely.
I twisted a chunk in my hand and pulled until his neck was bent. He hissed and then was quiet. I turned him, met his eyes and said, “Can I?”
He snorted. “Sure. It’s not like I haven’t had my hair braided before.”
“You miss your sisters?” I asked as I released his hair. I parted it down the middle and started braiding. He didn’t say anything, but his breathing changed.
I braided only one half of his hair and then focused on the tattoos on his shoulders. There were treble clefs and music notes, and an unfinished measure, notes fading from black to the color of his skin. He explained during an interview once that life was an unfinished melody and only the life's holder could dictate what notes came next.
Jaejoong loved music. He always had. I moved the hair from his shoulders completely and slowly traced the designs. He shivered.
“Don’t fuck this up, Jaejoong,” I whispered. “You’re getting a second chance.”
“Whatever.”
I gripped his ear in my fingers and twisted. He winced, but said nothing. “You need to sleep.” I let go of his ear and patted his cheek.
His lip curled in a snarl, but he didn’t say anything. He twisted away from me and climbed into the bed. I rose and turned the light off, shut the curtains and then joined him in bed.
“Why are you sleeping with me?” Jaejoong demanded, shifting and trying to find a comfortable spot when I pushed right against him.
“Because I want to.” That wasn’t a lie.
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“Then ask me not to. Don’t demand it. Don’t tell me. Ask me to leave and I will.”
Jaejoong huffed, and then rolled on his side away from me.
I smiled at his back, mirrored our position from the night before and held him as he fell asleep.
If I thought I had influenced him, the next night proved me wrong.
“No!” he shouted. “I’m not going!”
“You have to.”
“No, I don’t. I’m not a star anymore, I don’t have to work out.”
I sighed. “You’re still a star. ‘Rescue Me’ is still being played on the radio every hour or two. You still have fangirls out waiting outside for your autograph.”
“Well, they’re all assholes. I’m not going.”
It was hard to get Jaejoong to work out when he was performing. I should have known this was going to be impossible.
I had hoped that our physical confrontations would slack off after awhile, but it seemed like they were increasing.
“What about you, little prissy boy?” Jaejoong snapped.
I immediately slapped him for his tone, and he raised a hand to slap back. I grabbed his wrist, yanked him down and a way from me until he was on his knees on the floor again. He landed hard with a cry.
“If you were stronger, you might actually be able to break away from me.”
He growled until I twisted his arm, and he broke off to whimper.
“You’re going to kill me,” Jae said. “You’re crazy and deranged.”
I laughed. “You’re the one that keeps thinking you can take me.”
I was already dressed and ready to go when Jaejoong had come out of his room in nothing but sweat pants (really, the kid never wore a shirt). Our fight started, and I kicked out the other managers who’d come to do a logistics meeting. I had a badge around my neck with my ID on it that let me into the building. I took it off with one hand, keeping a firm grip on his wrists with the other one. He tried to break away, but quickly I wrapped the lanyard around his wrists.
I had nothing to tie his feet with but he had stopped struggling.
I walked around him. His chest heaved with deep breaths, his head lowered, hair falling around his face.
“Under other circumstances, it’d be sexy to have you tied up and at my mercy.”
He snorted. “Let me go,” he said, trying to get free.
I slapped him. His head whipped to the side and my hand actually stung. I hadn’t ever hit him that hard. His tongue darted out and licked up blood from his lip.
“You’re an asshole, Jaejoong. Stay there.”
His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “Yes, master.” Sarcasm dripped form his voice.
“Ah, so you’re finally learning.” I turned and left him there. I went to the bathroom because having Jaejoong tied up and at my mercy was sexy as hell. I left him there for twenty minutes. I did not jerk off as much as I wanted to.
When I went back to the living room, he was still on his knees. I stopped at the door and watched his body jerk.
I walked in front of him and then dropped to my knees. He froze when I reached around him and released the bindings. I should have jerked off.
“Stop fighting, Jaejoong,” I whispered.
He did not look up as he whispered, “May I be excused, Junsu-shi?”
I pondered him for a moment and then nodded. “Yes.”
He pushed away from me, stood up and practically ran out of the living room.
♪♪♪♪♪
Rescue Me by Hero
If you get close to me
don’t blame me if you’re hurt
if you want next to me
don’t run away in fear
My heart can be yours to have
but you’ll share it with the world
When you fall in love with me
don’t blame me if you’re hurt
I don’t need you
to rescue me
I am fine on my own
I don’t want you
to rescue me
but don’t leave me alone
If you want to lay in my bed
don’t try to tame my soul
If you want to be in my heart
don’t run away in fear
I can be yours to have
If you can withstand the pain
but when you fall in love
I will not take the blame
I don’t need you
to rescue me
I am fine on my own
I don’t want you to rescue me
but don’t leave me alone
You’re addicted to me
You can’t leave me
But I don’t need you
don’t need you
need you
need you
I don’t need you
to rescue me
I am fine on my own
I don’t want you to rescue me
but don’t leave me alone
don’t leave me alone
don’t leave me
don’t leave
leave
Part 2: Trying Again
.
Pairing: Junsu/Jaejoong
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Maybe one day I can be their manager and make it feel like I own them, but alas, I do not.
Summary: To everyone else, Jaejoong is a lost cause. To me, it's a matter of being employed or not. Okay, and I may be sort of a fanboy anyway. The kid is a dick though. So I'm either going to save his singing career or end up killing him. Or end up loving him.
Warning: Physical abuse in part one; and really kinky dirty violent sex in part two
A/N: This fic is my MY HONGKEI (vk_loli) and JaeSu is her OTP and she is my bestest kpop/jrock buddy and one of the ones I have known the longest and one of the few people that I can call a true, bestest friend, and even though there are times when we don't talk for long periods, as soon as we start chatting again, it's like we don't even miss a beat.
Warning: Physical abuse in this part
I have a confession to make.
I am in love with Kim Jaejoong.
Not that it’s so surprising. I mean, it’s Kim Jaejoong. The boy is incredibly attractive, and has a wicked mouth and an even wickeder body. I was excited when I saw his audition. He had a wide vocal range, and he looked the part of pretty boy idol. Well, he could have looked that part if his hair wasn’t long and his skin not tattooed. When asked though, Jaejoong sang a rock song, and just like that, Lee Sooman decided to branch out into rock music.
He debuted as “Hero”, and he literally rocked. His voice was gravely and then pure, and then sexy. I watched him from the sidelines and grew more and more infatuated with him as he slowly destroyed himself through alcohol and arrogance.
I wasn’t surprised when I was called into Lee Sooman’s office and told that I was going to be a manager for Kim Jaejoong. The boy changed managers like most people change socks.
“Junsu-shi, you managed to keep Kim Heechul from destroying his career. Do the same with Jaejoong.”
And that was the totality of my meeting.
I moved into Jaejoong’s apartment that night, despite his protests.
“Look,” I told him while trying not to stare at his exposed chest (He refused to put on a shirt). “You’re lucky you’re such an amazing musician. You’re lucky you’re so attractive. You’re lucky you’re making Lee Sooman a lot of money, because honestly, your attitude isn’t worth it. I’m not telling you to change who you are, because the fans love Hero. but if you don’t start acting more like Kim Jaejoong and a little less like an idiot, then you’re career is going to tank before it even starts.”
He scoffed at me and went to his room. Which was fine by me.
I spent the night memorizing his schedule for the next two weeks. He had a lot to do. I wondered if he found time to sleep. He had been in high demand since his debut, but that didn’t mean he had to kill himself to promote his album. One of Heechul’s main problems was due to lack of sleep.
I don’t know if he slept. In the morning I called for some take out for him to eat. He really was too skinny.
He sauntered into the kitchen at a little after six am. All he wore were red sweat pants. The edges of his hipbones jutted out from the top. His piercings (both nipples and navel) glinted in the morning light. His long blond hair was ratty, falling just past the tattooed skin of his shoulders. I had a desperate urge to brush it.
Of course, then the kid opened his mouth and destroyed any remote semblance of attraction I may have had for him.
“Now this is more like it,” he said when he saw the food and coffee ready for him. “About time they sent me someone who knows they’re my slave.”
I smacked the back of his head.
“What the fuck, bitch!” he said, turning around with eyes flaming.
“If you’ll remember,” I said, almost in his face. “I am ten years older than you.”
“So? I’m better looking and a star. What the fuck does--”
This time I slapped his face.
I think he was too shocked to do anything.
“Eat your breakfast. You have an interview at seven-thirty and you are not going to be late.”
He opened his mouth to protest. With a smirk, I reached forward and twisted his pierced nipple, pulling a gasp from him. “You are always late, and when you’re late, you make things difficult for everyone around you. I’m going to teach you respect, even if I have to beat it into your skin.” With one more twist that made him gasp, I let go. “Now, eat.”
I sat back down at the table, arms crossed. He watched me. His eyes calculated me, trying to figure out what the fuck I was. I wasn’t a pushover. I know he was used to getting his way.
With a final sniff, he turned and filled up a plate full of rice. I think he ate more than he should have as a bit of rebellion, but honestly, he was too skinny. I wasn’t sure when he was going to eat again that day, so I kept my mouth shut. And he smirked like he got away with something.
Compared to Heechul, Kim Jaejoong was going to be easy.
He was a bitch all day. Whining, demanding, mean. I couldn’t hit him in public, but after a particularly rude comment to a girl at a radio station, I dragged him to a bathroom, made sure it was empty and slapped him a few times, screaming at him.
Again he smirked, because he thought I was losing my cool, thought he was getting to me and that I would be gone in a few days just like the rest of them.
I was exhausted by the end of that first day. The first week was hell.
We fought constantly behind closed doors. He shouted at me, and only once raised his hand back to me, but I snagged his wrist and twisted it, until his body was on the floor and his face against my arm.
“I have a black belt in kung fu,” I told him. “Don’t piss me off.”
“Oh, but you can piss me off,” he said and tried to buck me off him.
“Yes. I can. Who are you going to bitch to about it?”
“Fuck off. Get off me.”
I stood up and released him. “Go to bed. You need to sleep.”
I turned my back on him and went to my own room. Being that close to his body, feeling his energy on my skin was not a good thing. I passed off the lust as starstruck.
The next week, his band quit.
I wasn’t surprised. No one was surprised. Except for him. His activities were put on hold, and Hero was lost.
♪♪♪♪♪
Lee Sooman did not drop him, nor did he cancel his contract. But only because I begged him not to. I begged him to give me two months. Two months and Jaejoong would be different, be better.
“Fine. But in two months, if he’s not ready, you’re both fired.”
I went back to Jaejoong’s apartment with a firm resolve, and found a very drunk Jaejoong passed out on the couch. With a sigh, I woke him up, cleaned up the throw up on the floor and on his face and body. I put him in new clothes and then put him to bed.
I sat on his bed, back against the wall and watched him sleep.
Kim Jaejoong had a hard life. He’d been in an orphanage until he was eight. A wonderful family with eight older girls adopted him, changed his family name, and his identity. But he resisted a lot of those changes. He loved his sisters. And he talked about them during interviews all the time. His adoptive parents were cool, too, he’d say. But I knew the struggles they had with him as he grew into his teens. When he was sixteen, he tried out and was accepted into SM Entertainment. And now at nineteen, finally able to debut, only to have it ripped away from him, I wasn’t surprised that he’d gotten drunk.
A few hours into the night, I got up to take a shower.
When I was done, I panicked, because Jaejoong was not in the apartment. I called his cell. He sent me a text to fuck off, and I paced as night was replaced by dawn. At almost five, Jaejoong stumbled in, another man wrapped around him, their lips together. Jaejoong had a hand shoved in the other man’s pants and he was begging the man to fuck him.
I stepped up to him, grabbed his arm and pulled them apart.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I demanded to Jaejoong.
“What do you care?” He stuck his tongue out.
I turned to who I recognized as Yoochun, another SM singer. He smiled, said hello, and then Jaejoong was screaming at me while I tried to talk to Yoochun. Jaejoong punched my arm, and I twisted and slapped his face. He reeked of alcohol again.
“I hate you!” Jaejoong screamed, and lunged for me.
I blocked his charge easily, grabbed his arm and knocked him to his knees. I kept his arm twisted behind his back. He whimpered, trying to move. I yanked his arm, pulling a cry from him.
I looked over at Yoochun. “Get out.”
He nodded, and hastily back peddled.
Jaejoong was bent over, his other hand on the floor trying to support him as I lifted his arm even more.
“See this?” I said. “Bowing. You do it when you’re introduced to someone, or to show respect. Somewhere along the line, you forgot about this. And if I have to reteach you then I have to reteach you.”
“Fuck you,” he muttered.
I pulled on his arm again. His other hand came off the floor and I easily grabbed it. I pushed a knee into his back until his face was against the floor.
“This? This is called groveling. On your knees, face to the floor. You should become really familiar with the floor.”
He gasped, probably trying to tell me to fuck off. His voice hitched midway and turned into a cry. His back heaved with heavy breaths.
“Lesson learned?”
He didn’t say anything. I got off him. “Get up and go clean yourself up.”
I moved away from him and went to the kitchen. I heard him get up, and then a few minutes later, the shower started. I thought about making breakfast and then shook my head. Jaejoong wasn’t going to feel good enough to eat it. He’d need sleep first.
There was more news about Hero. More news and speculations about his future. SM Entertainment was refusing to comment on his behavior.
I sighed and went to Jaejoong’s room. Even through the closed door, I could hear him crying. I turned the knob (I’d removed the lock the week before).
“Leave me alone,” he shouted and threw something at me, but it went wide and thunked against the door.
I moved into the room, to his bed and sat on the edge of it. He curled up as far away from me as he could.
“Just ... leave me alone ...”
“I can’t do that, Jaejoong.”
“Your job, I know. Bull shit. You wouldn’t care if it wasn’t.”
“If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have been in Sooman’s office this afternoon pleading your case.”
He sniffed and his body stilled.
“He’s ready to kick you out. And good riddance. But I asked him to give you some time.”
“So nice of you. I’ll start packing.”
“If you don’t straighten up, then I lose my job too.”
“Like I said. You wouldn’t care if it wasn’t your job to care.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it. Because honestly, if I debated that, then I’d probably confess to him.
He was quiet. His alarm suddenly started beeping. Six am. I shut it off, and then climbed into his bed. He stiffened, but didn’t protest as I curled up behind him, and put an arm around his waist.
“Go to sleep, Jaejoong.”
His breathing turned to gasping as he tried not to cry.
I slept only briefly. I woke up about three hours later when he moved. He sat up, legs crossed, facing away from me. His sweat pants rode low enough that I could see the top of his ass crack.
My fingers itched to touch it. I rolled away from him and climbed from the bed.
“You have twenty minutes to come out for something to eat.”
“I-I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care. Twenty minutes.” I left the kitchen. I ordered take out. And watched the time. At twenty one minutes, I went back to his room.
He was where I left him.
“I told you to come out and eat.”
“Fuck off.”
“You really don’t get this do you. I’m the only thing standing between you and a future entertainment career.” I moved slowly into his room. “One would think you would listen to me.”
“What if I don’t want to do this anymore?”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “Then go. You’re too troublesome. You’re a bastard. You treat people like your slaves. You have no sense of self respect or self worth and you take it out on those around you.” I kneeled on the bed and shuffled over to him while I talked. “You’re an amazing singer, Jaejoong. And when you put your mind to it, you’re an amazing composer. But drop the attitude, or no one will ever work with you again. Now come and eat.”
“I said I wasn’t hungry.”
I smirked at his back. “I was sort of hoping you’d say that.” Before he could react, I grabbed his long hair and yanked. He cried out as he fell to his back, hands going to my wrists trying to lessen the pressure. I heard a few hairs rip as I moved off the bed and dragged him across it.
“You fucking bitch! Fucker! Let go!” He kicked his legs and tried twisting, and then tumbled off the bed, landing hard on his hip. He screamed when I didn’t loosen the hold on his hair. He tried to grab me, but I yanked his head back. His hands went back to my wrists. His pained gasps echoed through the room.
“Come and eat or I drag you there by your hair.”
“Fuck off,” he said through gritted teeth.
I turned and started walking. He resisted and I twisted my wrist. He whimpered and then like a good little pet crawled after me to the kitchen. I released his hair as soon as we were in the kitchen. He stayed on his knees and curled in on himself, rubbing his head.
“Eat,” I said, “or do I have to force you to do that too?”
“I hate you,” he muttered.
“I don’t hate you,” I said. “If I hated you, I would have left the minute everyone else did. Now sit at the table and eat, or should I put your food on the floor like a dog?”
He very slowly rose and moved to a chair. He took a couple bites, and I knew he was having trouble swallowing, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d puke most of it back up. He was really hungover.
I sighed and got up. I poured him a cup of coffee and sweetened it with the creamer he liked. I set it down, and then took the plate from him. He didn’t protest, but I felt his eyes on me as I dumped his food into a container for later, and then only put a few scoops of plain rice on the plate.
“Here. Just eat this to help absorb the alcohol in your system.”
I sat across from him and waited until he was done eating the rice. He stood up, and I cleared my throat.
“What?” he said, very snappy.
“I didn’t say you could leave, did I?”
“No.” He put his dishes in the sink (which was good) and then he left the kitchen.
He took another shower and when he was done, I was in his room waiting for him. I stood in the middle of the room with my arms crossed and watched him slip on a pair of cotton sleep pants.
When he tried to move past me to the bed, I put my hand on his chest. There was a small struggle which I won. He turned fiery eyes to me. “Let me go.”
“No.”
I steered him over to the bed. His body shivered, and I wondered what he was thinking I was planning on doing to him. I liked that he was scared. That meant I was getting to him. But I didn’t want him to be afraid of me.
“Sit,” I said and pushed his shoulder. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he sat on the floor in front of me.
Before he could turn around to demand what I was doing, I picked up the brush I had laid on the bed and attacked the ends of his hair with it. The next noise out of his throat was one of surprise and his whole body stiffened. I brushed the lower half, careful to make sure all the tangles were out. And then even after I had brushed it all, I continued.
“Are you going to braid it now?” he asked snidely.
I twisted a chunk in my hand and pulled until his neck was bent. He hissed and then was quiet. I turned him, met his eyes and said, “Can I?”
He snorted. “Sure. It’s not like I haven’t had my hair braided before.”
“You miss your sisters?” I asked as I released his hair. I parted it down the middle and started braiding. He didn’t say anything, but his breathing changed.
I braided only one half of his hair and then focused on the tattoos on his shoulders. There were treble clefs and music notes, and an unfinished measure, notes fading from black to the color of his skin. He explained during an interview once that life was an unfinished melody and only the life's holder could dictate what notes came next.
Jaejoong loved music. He always had. I moved the hair from his shoulders completely and slowly traced the designs. He shivered.
“Don’t fuck this up, Jaejoong,” I whispered. “You’re getting a second chance.”
“Whatever.”
I gripped his ear in my fingers and twisted. He winced, but said nothing. “You need to sleep.” I let go of his ear and patted his cheek.
His lip curled in a snarl, but he didn’t say anything. He twisted away from me and climbed into the bed. I rose and turned the light off, shut the curtains and then joined him in bed.
“Why are you sleeping with me?” Jaejoong demanded, shifting and trying to find a comfortable spot when I pushed right against him.
“Because I want to.” That wasn’t a lie.
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“Then ask me not to. Don’t demand it. Don’t tell me. Ask me to leave and I will.”
Jaejoong huffed, and then rolled on his side away from me.
I smiled at his back, mirrored our position from the night before and held him as he fell asleep.
If I thought I had influenced him, the next night proved me wrong.
“No!” he shouted. “I’m not going!”
“You have to.”
“No, I don’t. I’m not a star anymore, I don’t have to work out.”
I sighed. “You’re still a star. ‘Rescue Me’ is still being played on the radio every hour or two. You still have fangirls out waiting outside for your autograph.”
“Well, they’re all assholes. I’m not going.”
It was hard to get Jaejoong to work out when he was performing. I should have known this was going to be impossible.
I had hoped that our physical confrontations would slack off after awhile, but it seemed like they were increasing.
“What about you, little prissy boy?” Jaejoong snapped.
I immediately slapped him for his tone, and he raised a hand to slap back. I grabbed his wrist, yanked him down and a way from me until he was on his knees on the floor again. He landed hard with a cry.
“If you were stronger, you might actually be able to break away from me.”
He growled until I twisted his arm, and he broke off to whimper.
“You’re going to kill me,” Jae said. “You’re crazy and deranged.”
I laughed. “You’re the one that keeps thinking you can take me.”
I was already dressed and ready to go when Jaejoong had come out of his room in nothing but sweat pants (really, the kid never wore a shirt). Our fight started, and I kicked out the other managers who’d come to do a logistics meeting. I had a badge around my neck with my ID on it that let me into the building. I took it off with one hand, keeping a firm grip on his wrists with the other one. He tried to break away, but quickly I wrapped the lanyard around his wrists.
I had nothing to tie his feet with but he had stopped struggling.
I walked around him. His chest heaved with deep breaths, his head lowered, hair falling around his face.
“Under other circumstances, it’d be sexy to have you tied up and at my mercy.”
He snorted. “Let me go,” he said, trying to get free.
I slapped him. His head whipped to the side and my hand actually stung. I hadn’t ever hit him that hard. His tongue darted out and licked up blood from his lip.
“You’re an asshole, Jaejoong. Stay there.”
His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “Yes, master.” Sarcasm dripped form his voice.
“Ah, so you’re finally learning.” I turned and left him there. I went to the bathroom because having Jaejoong tied up and at my mercy was sexy as hell. I left him there for twenty minutes. I did not jerk off as much as I wanted to.
When I went back to the living room, he was still on his knees. I stopped at the door and watched his body jerk.
I walked in front of him and then dropped to my knees. He froze when I reached around him and released the bindings. I should have jerked off.
“Stop fighting, Jaejoong,” I whispered.
He did not look up as he whispered, “May I be excused, Junsu-shi?”
I pondered him for a moment and then nodded. “Yes.”
He pushed away from me, stood up and practically ran out of the living room.
♪♪♪♪♪
Rescue Me by Hero
If you get close to me
don’t blame me if you’re hurt
if you want next to me
don’t run away in fear
My heart can be yours to have
but you’ll share it with the world
When you fall in love with me
don’t blame me if you’re hurt
I don’t need you
to rescue me
I am fine on my own
I don’t want you
to rescue me
but don’t leave me alone
If you want to lay in my bed
don’t try to tame my soul
If you want to be in my heart
don’t run away in fear
I can be yours to have
If you can withstand the pain
but when you fall in love
I will not take the blame
I don’t need you
to rescue me
I am fine on my own
I don’t want you to rescue me
but don’t leave me alone
You’re addicted to me
You can’t leave me
But I don’t need you
don’t need you
need you
need you
I don’t need you
to rescue me
I am fine on my own
I don’t want you to rescue me
but don’t leave me alone
don’t leave me alone
don’t leave me
don’t leave
leave
Part 2: Trying Again
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