Tightly Bound 1/?
Title: Tightly Bound 1/?
Pairing: Changmin/Jaejoong
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Only in my mind can they be bound together with magic spells.
Summary: Jaejoong is Changmin's biggest rival. When the elf reveals that Changmin is his only option to curb the pain from an ancient curse, Changmin must decide what to do. And he must decide if his sudden feelings for Jaejoong are real, or a result of magic he does not understand.
A/N: My DelusionaLL Brain: Here's an idea. Write a bunch of drabbles while you work on the next chapters of Tears of the Poor and baseCODE.
My Actual Brain: OMG THIS STORY SHOULD NOT BE A DRABBLE WRITE MORE ON IT WRITE MORE ON IT
Yeah ... was supposed to be a drabble. Have no idea how long it will be now.
Part 1: The Binding Curse
Changmin glowered, the anger in his eyes daring even the walls to upset him further. He stomped through the hallways. Servants scurried from his path, bowing as he brushed by them, barely acknowledging them. His personal servant, Minho, followed close behind, wisely keeping his mouth shut while they were in public. He only moved ahead of Changmin to open the main door to his rooms and bow the prince through.
Changmin scoffed at the action and entered his sitting room. He kept his hands at his sides, balled up in fists, and paced, back and forth, away from anything that he might have thrown in his frustration.
He hated losing, especially to the elf prince.
“The only reason he is better than me is because he is immortal,” Changmin muttered.
“Not immortal. Just very hard to kill.”
Changmin waved that away and continued pacing a tract on the rug in his sitting room, between one chair to the window, glowering at nothing. He fought the urge to fling his bow like a spoilt child. His bow was his best friend, in practice and in battle. It was not the bow’s fault that his irritation had skewed his arrows off their marks this morning during practice.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Minho asked.
“Definitely not.”
“Neither of you is better than the other. You are both breathtakingly gorgeous. You are both heirs to thrones. You are both strong warriors. No one shoots a bow better than either of you, and you actually outshot him in the last tournament!”
“The wind favored my shot.”
“Well, if you’re going to be stubborn...” Minho fell into Changmin’s desk chair with a sigh and put his feet up on Changmin’s desk.
Changmin glared at him.
“I don’t understand why you’re disagreeing with me. I’m telling you that you are just as good as he is, which is an accomplishment because you’re only a human! You should be saying you’re better for that exact reason. He has tricks and magic. You are only human!”
Changmin shook his head, long hair brushing over his eyes.
A solid knock on the door disrupted Minho’s next tirade, and Changmin glared at the offending wood, like it was the door’s fault.
“Come in!” Minho called and stood back up.
Changmin twisted his glare to him instead. And the door opened before he could retract the invitation.
Changmin’s ire turned to surprise as Kim Jaejoong walked through the door.
“You knew he was coming,” Changmin accused as Minho walked by him.
Minho smirked. “Of course I did. Be nice.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Changmin glared at the elf standing in his personal sanctuary. His blond hair was almost messy, around the top of his head, like his personal maid hadn’t bothered to do anything to it before he left the elven castle. Wind tossed. Tempting. Black kohl lined his eyelids, emphasizing the darkness of his eyes. The fading orange sunlight sparkled through the silver earrings up and down his pointed ears. The beautiful elf was dressed almost casually in black pants that looked soft and a loose gray sweater that looked even softer. Brown boots hit just above his ankles.
Changmin cleared his throat. “What do you want?”
Jaejoong winced like Changmin had smacked him. “A favor.”
Changmin said nothing and waited. They were civil to one another when they had to talk but that was all. They tried to only be in the same room if they were competing for something. A favor between them meant a lot.
Jaejoong smiled at him. “You are wearing your bow. You’ve been practicing today?
Changmin had not changed from his practice clothes, tight black shirt and pants, nothing exaggerated, nothing out of place. Nothing distracted him during practice. But it was also not an outfit to meet a visiting prince in. His hair was also messy. The wind had been blowing hard over the practice range. Minho, Changmin decided, had done this on purpose, the cad.
“I practice every day,” Changmin finally said in the silence.
Jaejoong nodded. “Good, good. You are getting so very good. I ...” He pulled at the sleeves of his sweater and bit his lip. “I love to watch you shoot. You are ... elegant.”
In his confusion, Changmin tried not to lick his lips at the way the shirt pulled off his shoulder, showing off his collarbone and a couple of scrolls of tattooed skin. Jaejoong did not give him compliments, at least, not one that was underhanded and mostly an insult.
“A favor,” Changmin prompted and cleared his throat, wondering whatever it was that he was able to do for the practically immortal elf.
“A favor,” Jaejoong repeated. He sighed and lifted a hand. The air wavered in magic, and the pale, perfect skin of his neck turned black, lines obscuring the skin in a twisted mark of ownership.
“A curse?” Changmin asked, stepping toward Jaejoong without even thinking about it. He reached to touch the blackened skin, and Jaejoong let him, head tilted with a quiet sigh. “How did this happen? When did this happen? Who dared to--”
Jaejoong turned his head and smiled up at him. Changmin was also taller than the elf, just one more point to him. Humans were rarely taller than elves. “It happened when I was near your age.”
Changmin’s eyes widened. “That was centuries ago!”
“Yes. I know. You have heard of a Binding Curse?”
Changmin snorted. “Legends.”
“They were not legends back then, and it has been my reality. Unfortunately, the warlock who placed the curse upon me was quickly killed in the battle during the Warlock War. I have lived with this for my entire life.”
Changmin’s eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”
“It always hurts, but your touch has calmed the pain.” Jaejoong took a very deep breath. “And there is my favor. You may not be aware of this, but that warlock was part of your family.”
Changmin’s eyes went even wider. “I am not a warlock!” he shouted. “How dare you even suggest--”
Jaejoong covered his mouth and laughed at Changmin’s outburst. “I am not calling you a warlock. There are no more warlocks to even attempt to teach you to become one, and you will not because you are not an evil person whose focus is only on wealth and personal gain. All I am saying is that the warlock is from your family line.”
“Even that is an insult. To even imply that--”
“Oh, hush,” Jaejoong snapped. “It was so many centuries ago that it no longer matters. What does matter is that the curse is still upon me and I cannot get rid of it.”
“Well, I cannot remove it!”
Jaejoong smiled and shook his head. “Only the warlock who placed it can remove it. The curse, I am afraid, will be with me for my life.”
“Then what am I to do?”
Jaejoong took Changmin’s wrist and placed Changmin’s hand back on his neck. “As I said, your touch makes the pain go away.”
Changmin had no problems putting both hands on Jaejoong’s neck, fingers brushing his jaw. “I do not understand,” he whispered. “Why does my touch help?”
Jaejoong gripped Changmin’s wrists, eyes fluttering shut. “You were born into this world with abilities that no other human has. As you said, you are not a warlock, but that blood still runs through you. As soon as you were born, I was drawn to you. I’ve watched you and hoped, well ... it did not turn out the way I wanted. You’ve been so angry at me, so much my rival, and I never meant for that to happen by being around you so much. The throbbing is less. The pain goes away when you are close to me. The only thing that means is that the Binding Curse recognizes you in a way it has not recognized anyone in hundreds of years. You make the pain go away. Please, Changmin-ah, please. Allow me to be near you. Allow me to be ... be yours. Belong to you.”
Jaejoong sank to his knees, keeping Changmin’s wrists against his skin, but Changmin let him go, shook him off and stepped away from him, unable to breathe.
Jaejoong’s sob echoed through the room.
Changmin stood a few feet from him, in shock, in awe. A Binding Curse, binding an immortal being to blood, blood that Changmin had. It should not have been possible. This had to be a trick.
“I tried so hard to be friends,” Jaejoong said. “Instead of friends, we are rivals, enemies. That is not what I wanted. I tried to get close to you without telling you about the curse because I did not want my pain to be the reason that we are friends. But it hurts more. Every day without you, it hurts more. It has felt you and knows you and recognizes you, so when I am not close to you, it hurts even more. I can ... I can barely move when I am in my rooms at my home. The pain just ... please, Changmin-ah, please.”
Changmin was not a cruel prince. His mother taught him just as much about the plight of their peasants as his father taught him to rule them. He was not cruel. Knowing Jaejoong was in pain when not near him did not make Changmin want to gloat and lord over the elf still on his knees. Take this as a victory and a reason to claim that he is was better. It made his chest hurt. Hurt because Jaejoong was hurting. And Changmin had the power to stop it.
“Minho!” Changmin shouted, and sure enough, his servant opened the door. He’d probably been trying to listen in.
Jaejoong scrambled to his feet before Minho saw him on his knees, and his hand lifted, covering the curse mark.
Changmin kept his eyes on Jaejoong as he said, “Have my reading room converted into a bedroom, with all the courtesies that our family shows to visiting elven royalty. Jaejoong-shi will be staying with us for a while.”
“But the guest rooms-”
“My reading room, Minho. See that it is done. Tonight. Have someone tell the cook that Jaejoong will be joining me for dinner in my private dining room.”
Minho shrugged, barely bowed, and said, “Of course, your highness.” He left the room again.
Jaejoong stared at Changmin, fisted hands tight against his chest. His dark eyes glistened with tears. By the Gods, his eyes were beautiful. Dark, but churning with grays and blues that reminded Changmin of an approaching storm.
“Thank you, Changmin-ah. Thank you.”
Changmin took a very deep breath and held out his hand. Jaejoong smiled and then flung his arms around Changmin’s shoulders. Changmin took a very deep breath of the smell of trees and flowers, and his arm wrapped around Jaejoong’s small waist.
“You are not in pain?” Changmin asked, whispering against the soft hair in his face.
“Not anymore. Not when I’m near you.”
Changmin swallowed roughly. “You said friends?”
Jaejoong nodded.
“Okay.” He took a very deep breath. “We can be friends.”
Changmin held him for a very long time. Jaejoong body shuddered against him, his breath staggered at first and then steadied.
Changmin waited to feel alarmed at how easy it was to go from hating the elf in his arms to worrying and caring about him. Was that because of the curse? Was his own blood and heart so easily swayed because of the magic?
“Did you bring any luggage?” Changmin asked, finally pulling away from Jaejoong. He felt his cheeks flush at the awed look on Jaejoong’s face and he turned away.
Jaejoong shook his head. “Just a cloak for riding. The wind is really strong today.”
Changmin cleared his throat. “Then I guess I will dress to match you even if what you are wearing is hardly an outfit one wears to dinner with a prince.”
“And yours is hardly an outfit one wears to receive an audience with a prince,” he shot back.
“I did not know you were coming.”
“I did not know I was staying.”
Changmin fought the urge to smile, though he felt his mouth twitch. Jaejoong had seen it and he laughed, using his sweater-covered hand to cover his mouth.
“Dinner is not yet for another hour,” Changmin said. “You are free to explore.” He waved his hands around his rooms. “I need to go speak with my mother.”
“You won’t tell her ...” Jaejoong covered his neck with his hand.
Changmin winced. “I must. I will not tell the king. But my mother loves me.”
Jaejoong lowered his head. “It has been a secret for so many years.”
“I understand, but I do not want my mother or father to question your being here. Have Minho take you to my private dining room. I will be there.”
“Late?” He raised an eyebrow.
“That was one time!”
Jaejoong chuckled. “Twice, actually.”
“By two minutes!”
“And who was the girl that distracted you?”
“Shut up,” he muttered, blushing profusely because it definitely had not been a girl distracting him. Jaejoong did not need to know that.
Jaejoong laughed again, and Changmin stalked out of his rooms to go talk to his mother about this strange, new development.
Part 2: The Binding Touch
.
Pairing: Changmin/Jaejoong
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Only in my mind can they be bound together with magic spells.
Summary: Jaejoong is Changmin's biggest rival. When the elf reveals that Changmin is his only option to curb the pain from an ancient curse, Changmin must decide what to do. And he must decide if his sudden feelings for Jaejoong are real, or a result of magic he does not understand.
A/N: My DelusionaLL Brain: Here's an idea. Write a bunch of drabbles while you work on the next chapters of Tears of the Poor and baseCODE.
My Actual Brain: OMG THIS STORY SHOULD NOT BE A DRABBLE WRITE MORE ON IT WRITE MORE ON IT
Yeah ... was supposed to be a drabble. Have no idea how long it will be now.
Part 1: The Binding Curse
Changmin glowered, the anger in his eyes daring even the walls to upset him further. He stomped through the hallways. Servants scurried from his path, bowing as he brushed by them, barely acknowledging them. His personal servant, Minho, followed close behind, wisely keeping his mouth shut while they were in public. He only moved ahead of Changmin to open the main door to his rooms and bow the prince through.
Changmin scoffed at the action and entered his sitting room. He kept his hands at his sides, balled up in fists, and paced, back and forth, away from anything that he might have thrown in his frustration.
He hated losing, especially to the elf prince.
“The only reason he is better than me is because he is immortal,” Changmin muttered.
“Not immortal. Just very hard to kill.”
Changmin waved that away and continued pacing a tract on the rug in his sitting room, between one chair to the window, glowering at nothing. He fought the urge to fling his bow like a spoilt child. His bow was his best friend, in practice and in battle. It was not the bow’s fault that his irritation had skewed his arrows off their marks this morning during practice.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Minho asked.
“Definitely not.”
“Neither of you is better than the other. You are both breathtakingly gorgeous. You are both heirs to thrones. You are both strong warriors. No one shoots a bow better than either of you, and you actually outshot him in the last tournament!”
“The wind favored my shot.”
“Well, if you’re going to be stubborn...” Minho fell into Changmin’s desk chair with a sigh and put his feet up on Changmin’s desk.
Changmin glared at him.
“I don’t understand why you’re disagreeing with me. I’m telling you that you are just as good as he is, which is an accomplishment because you’re only a human! You should be saying you’re better for that exact reason. He has tricks and magic. You are only human!”
Changmin shook his head, long hair brushing over his eyes.
A solid knock on the door disrupted Minho’s next tirade, and Changmin glared at the offending wood, like it was the door’s fault.
“Come in!” Minho called and stood back up.
Changmin twisted his glare to him instead. And the door opened before he could retract the invitation.
Changmin’s ire turned to surprise as Kim Jaejoong walked through the door.
“You knew he was coming,” Changmin accused as Minho walked by him.
Minho smirked. “Of course I did. Be nice.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Changmin glared at the elf standing in his personal sanctuary. His blond hair was almost messy, around the top of his head, like his personal maid hadn’t bothered to do anything to it before he left the elven castle. Wind tossed. Tempting. Black kohl lined his eyelids, emphasizing the darkness of his eyes. The fading orange sunlight sparkled through the silver earrings up and down his pointed ears. The beautiful elf was dressed almost casually in black pants that looked soft and a loose gray sweater that looked even softer. Brown boots hit just above his ankles.
Changmin cleared his throat. “What do you want?”
Jaejoong winced like Changmin had smacked him. “A favor.”
Changmin said nothing and waited. They were civil to one another when they had to talk but that was all. They tried to only be in the same room if they were competing for something. A favor between them meant a lot.
Jaejoong smiled at him. “You are wearing your bow. You’ve been practicing today?
Changmin had not changed from his practice clothes, tight black shirt and pants, nothing exaggerated, nothing out of place. Nothing distracted him during practice. But it was also not an outfit to meet a visiting prince in. His hair was also messy. The wind had been blowing hard over the practice range. Minho, Changmin decided, had done this on purpose, the cad.
“I practice every day,” Changmin finally said in the silence.
Jaejoong nodded. “Good, good. You are getting so very good. I ...” He pulled at the sleeves of his sweater and bit his lip. “I love to watch you shoot. You are ... elegant.”
In his confusion, Changmin tried not to lick his lips at the way the shirt pulled off his shoulder, showing off his collarbone and a couple of scrolls of tattooed skin. Jaejoong did not give him compliments, at least, not one that was underhanded and mostly an insult.
“A favor,” Changmin prompted and cleared his throat, wondering whatever it was that he was able to do for the practically immortal elf.
“A favor,” Jaejoong repeated. He sighed and lifted a hand. The air wavered in magic, and the pale, perfect skin of his neck turned black, lines obscuring the skin in a twisted mark of ownership.
“A curse?” Changmin asked, stepping toward Jaejoong without even thinking about it. He reached to touch the blackened skin, and Jaejoong let him, head tilted with a quiet sigh. “How did this happen? When did this happen? Who dared to--”
Jaejoong turned his head and smiled up at him. Changmin was also taller than the elf, just one more point to him. Humans were rarely taller than elves. “It happened when I was near your age.”
Changmin’s eyes widened. “That was centuries ago!”
“Yes. I know. You have heard of a Binding Curse?”
Changmin snorted. “Legends.”
“They were not legends back then, and it has been my reality. Unfortunately, the warlock who placed the curse upon me was quickly killed in the battle during the Warlock War. I have lived with this for my entire life.”
Changmin’s eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”
“It always hurts, but your touch has calmed the pain.” Jaejoong took a very deep breath. “And there is my favor. You may not be aware of this, but that warlock was part of your family.”
Changmin’s eyes went even wider. “I am not a warlock!” he shouted. “How dare you even suggest--”
Jaejoong covered his mouth and laughed at Changmin’s outburst. “I am not calling you a warlock. There are no more warlocks to even attempt to teach you to become one, and you will not because you are not an evil person whose focus is only on wealth and personal gain. All I am saying is that the warlock is from your family line.”
“Even that is an insult. To even imply that--”
“Oh, hush,” Jaejoong snapped. “It was so many centuries ago that it no longer matters. What does matter is that the curse is still upon me and I cannot get rid of it.”
“Well, I cannot remove it!”
Jaejoong smiled and shook his head. “Only the warlock who placed it can remove it. The curse, I am afraid, will be with me for my life.”
“Then what am I to do?”
Jaejoong took Changmin’s wrist and placed Changmin’s hand back on his neck. “As I said, your touch makes the pain go away.”
Changmin had no problems putting both hands on Jaejoong’s neck, fingers brushing his jaw. “I do not understand,” he whispered. “Why does my touch help?”
Jaejoong gripped Changmin’s wrists, eyes fluttering shut. “You were born into this world with abilities that no other human has. As you said, you are not a warlock, but that blood still runs through you. As soon as you were born, I was drawn to you. I’ve watched you and hoped, well ... it did not turn out the way I wanted. You’ve been so angry at me, so much my rival, and I never meant for that to happen by being around you so much. The throbbing is less. The pain goes away when you are close to me. The only thing that means is that the Binding Curse recognizes you in a way it has not recognized anyone in hundreds of years. You make the pain go away. Please, Changmin-ah, please. Allow me to be near you. Allow me to be ... be yours. Belong to you.”
Jaejoong sank to his knees, keeping Changmin’s wrists against his skin, but Changmin let him go, shook him off and stepped away from him, unable to breathe.
Jaejoong’s sob echoed through the room.
Changmin stood a few feet from him, in shock, in awe. A Binding Curse, binding an immortal being to blood, blood that Changmin had. It should not have been possible. This had to be a trick.
“I tried so hard to be friends,” Jaejoong said. “Instead of friends, we are rivals, enemies. That is not what I wanted. I tried to get close to you without telling you about the curse because I did not want my pain to be the reason that we are friends. But it hurts more. Every day without you, it hurts more. It has felt you and knows you and recognizes you, so when I am not close to you, it hurts even more. I can ... I can barely move when I am in my rooms at my home. The pain just ... please, Changmin-ah, please.”
Changmin was not a cruel prince. His mother taught him just as much about the plight of their peasants as his father taught him to rule them. He was not cruel. Knowing Jaejoong was in pain when not near him did not make Changmin want to gloat and lord over the elf still on his knees. Take this as a victory and a reason to claim that he is was better. It made his chest hurt. Hurt because Jaejoong was hurting. And Changmin had the power to stop it.
“Minho!” Changmin shouted, and sure enough, his servant opened the door. He’d probably been trying to listen in.
Jaejoong scrambled to his feet before Minho saw him on his knees, and his hand lifted, covering the curse mark.
Changmin kept his eyes on Jaejoong as he said, “Have my reading room converted into a bedroom, with all the courtesies that our family shows to visiting elven royalty. Jaejoong-shi will be staying with us for a while.”
“But the guest rooms-”
“My reading room, Minho. See that it is done. Tonight. Have someone tell the cook that Jaejoong will be joining me for dinner in my private dining room.”
Minho shrugged, barely bowed, and said, “Of course, your highness.” He left the room again.
Jaejoong stared at Changmin, fisted hands tight against his chest. His dark eyes glistened with tears. By the Gods, his eyes were beautiful. Dark, but churning with grays and blues that reminded Changmin of an approaching storm.
“Thank you, Changmin-ah. Thank you.”
Changmin took a very deep breath and held out his hand. Jaejoong smiled and then flung his arms around Changmin’s shoulders. Changmin took a very deep breath of the smell of trees and flowers, and his arm wrapped around Jaejoong’s small waist.
“You are not in pain?” Changmin asked, whispering against the soft hair in his face.
“Not anymore. Not when I’m near you.”
Changmin swallowed roughly. “You said friends?”
Jaejoong nodded.
“Okay.” He took a very deep breath. “We can be friends.”
Changmin held him for a very long time. Jaejoong body shuddered against him, his breath staggered at first and then steadied.
Changmin waited to feel alarmed at how easy it was to go from hating the elf in his arms to worrying and caring about him. Was that because of the curse? Was his own blood and heart so easily swayed because of the magic?
“Did you bring any luggage?” Changmin asked, finally pulling away from Jaejoong. He felt his cheeks flush at the awed look on Jaejoong’s face and he turned away.
Jaejoong shook his head. “Just a cloak for riding. The wind is really strong today.”
Changmin cleared his throat. “Then I guess I will dress to match you even if what you are wearing is hardly an outfit one wears to dinner with a prince.”
“And yours is hardly an outfit one wears to receive an audience with a prince,” he shot back.
“I did not know you were coming.”
“I did not know I was staying.”
Changmin fought the urge to smile, though he felt his mouth twitch. Jaejoong had seen it and he laughed, using his sweater-covered hand to cover his mouth.
“Dinner is not yet for another hour,” Changmin said. “You are free to explore.” He waved his hands around his rooms. “I need to go speak with my mother.”
“You won’t tell her ...” Jaejoong covered his neck with his hand.
Changmin winced. “I must. I will not tell the king. But my mother loves me.”
Jaejoong lowered his head. “It has been a secret for so many years.”
“I understand, but I do not want my mother or father to question your being here. Have Minho take you to my private dining room. I will be there.”
“Late?” He raised an eyebrow.
“That was one time!”
Jaejoong chuckled. “Twice, actually.”
“By two minutes!”
“And who was the girl that distracted you?”
“Shut up,” he muttered, blushing profusely because it definitely had not been a girl distracting him. Jaejoong did not need to know that.
Jaejoong laughed again, and Changmin stalked out of his rooms to go talk to his mother about this strange, new development.
Part 2: The Binding Touch
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