[one-shot] the thinnest line to walk, yunho/yoochun/changmin
the thinnest line to walk
rating: hard r because i didn't have to have the time/energy to write smut orz
pairing: yunho/yoochun/changmin and combinations of the three, ninja!jaesu
summary: actors!dbsk au. your average love triangle.
word count: 2,232
comments: i'm generally proud of this, except that i really crapped out at the end, which i'll probably rewrite come december as this fic is the product of not writing my nanovel because i don't know what to do with it and i'm procrastinating. for the same reason, i haven't proofread this, so if there are ridiculous typos or grammar mistakes i didn't notice, please point them out to me~
though i'm rather blind
love is a fate resigned
love is a losing game, amy winehouse
“Love is a losing game,” Yoochun hums with fatality, smoke traveling out of his mouth in volutes. He’s got his eyes closed and he seems to be waiting for something-when Yunho’s cold fingers touch his jaw from where he’s standing behind him, he doesn’t jump or flinch. He only tilts his head back, eyelashes fluttering as he looks at Yunho upside down.
There’s an invitation in his gaze, a twist in his lips that just draws him in. He leans down, a hand sliding down Yoochun’s chest as he presses their lips together, his nose bumping against his chin. It’s awkward, it’s uncomfortable, but Yunho needs that touch, here and now. Yoochun has always told him he lacks patience, and he admits to being guilty without any regrets. He’s only impatient for him.
When Yoochun pulls away, it’s to take another puff from his cigarette, throwing it to the ground as he stands and stretches. It’s still burning as he pulls Yunho in by the collar of his coat and kisses him the way he wants it, hard and bruising; if it weren’t for the fact that they could easily get found right there and then, he’d probably start undressing him now. He’s got a thing for exhibitionism, but not for getting arrested for fucking Yunho in the park. That would be too good to be true. Instead, they settle for Yunho’s car in the parking lot of the near-abandoned theatre, Yoochun riding him hard in fast in the backseat. He’s got sticky fingers, stealing bits and parts of Yunho under the bruises he leaves, and later, they’ll both think the dull soreness in their muscles from how uncomfortable and cramped Toyotas are was worth it.
“Thanks,” Yoochun breathes when he leaves, pressing Yunho back against the driver’s door as he kisses him again and leaves him fired up for more.
There’s an ache in his lower back from where the handle dug in his skin, but he settles into his seat quietly nonetheless, clothes smelling like cigarette smoke and Yoochun. “Cocktease,” he only mutters to himself angrily, starting the engine. He can only bring himself to say what he really thinks about Yoochun when he’s alone, because the second the other is around, his resolve crumbles like the houses of cards he never managed to build as a kid.
Changmin is the new kid in the troupe, fresh and young, but his eyes are sharp and his brain to mouth filter is nonexistent. He’s both as shy as he is fierce, and he knows Yoochun from long ago-he knows him better than anyone, actually. Things have changed, especially on his side; he’s grown, and he’s more confident, but his admiration for Yoochun that he held before hasn’t faltered. Instead, it’s morphed into something very raw and needy-but Yoochun only finds that out one afternoon when Changmin grabs his arm and pulls him into the scene shop. At this time of the say, the room is dark and there’s no one around, so they’re alone, completely alone.
He ends up with his back pressed to the wall and Changmin’s body against his front, warm and heavy, breathing right against his cheekbone as his fingers curl into his shirt.
“So I heard you like tall guys,” Changmin sneers, making sure to tower over Yoochun.
“Mnmpfssh,” is all Yoochun manages out, and that makes him laugh breathily, grazing his lips over Yoochun’s jaw, right at the exact spot Yunho loves to touch to show his affection.
“I thought you were better than that at thinking up lines on your feet, hyung.”
Yoochun closes his eyes, tries to calm his racing heart. It’s been only a minute since Changmin assaulted him and having him so close is already driving him crazy with lust. After all, he’s always been a sucker for a pliant body just begging to be fucked, and Changmin is even more than that. He has potential, that kid, potential to tie him down with invisible chains that Yoochun will only pull on for show. “That’s because no one ever jumps me on stage, even though I know they all want to.”
“You’ve never stopped being your confident self, I see,” Changmin says, letting them dance around each other a little more. He starts to unbuckle his own belt, pulling his jeans open to take Yoochun’s hand and slide it against the front of his boxers.
“And you’ve never stopped being at my feet.”
Changmin’s teeth bite at Yoochun’s neck as he chuckles darkly. “Is that a request for me to be on my knees?”
Yoochun smirks. He hadn’t even thought of that, but if he’s the one suggesting it, then who is he to protest? He puts a hand on top of Changmin’s head and pushes down, letting him take the hint. If there’s a sound Yoochun loves hearing, it sure is that of a man falling to his knees in front of him and pulling his fly down. Changmin’s mouth is warm and greedy, his tongue just the right amount of eager and his lips tight around him. It’s not his first time, definitely, and Yoochun loves it.
“I didn’t know you were a little cockslut, Changmin-ah,” he coos, running a hand through his brown locks and gripping tightly. Changmin moans, though he can’t be sure what for; all he knows is that the vibrations it sends up his cock are delicious. There’s an unspoken agreement in this exchange-Changmin confesses to being what Yoochun calls him, but it also suggests that Yoochun wants him to be that only for him.
It’s all Changmin ever wanted.
“Jaejoong-hyung,” Junsu calls, walking into the dressing room after rehearsal and plopping down into the seat next to him. Jaejoong only hums in answer as he tries to wipe mascara off his eyes, signalling for him to continue. “What’s up between Yoochun and Changmin?”
“You mean their total lack of chemistry on stage together?”
“Yeah, that.”
Jaejoong drops the cotton ball he’s holding and turns to Junsu on his spinning chair, wearing a feral grin. He’s only wearing make-up on the left side of his face, and it reminds him a little of Mulan. But, after all, Jaejoong was made for tragic heroes. Sometimes heroines. “Junsu-yah, do you know nothing of acting?”
“Um,” Junsu replies incoherently. He didn’t go to freaking Juilliard for nothing.
“Alright, the thing is, chemistry between two attractive actors is all based on sexual tension. If there’s sexual tension, there’s chemistry. If there’s no chemistry, then...well, you do the math.”
Junsu blinks. “But wait, wasn’t Yoochun with Yunho? They never have chemistry on stage.”
“Yeah, theirs isn’t a case of sexual tension anymore. Well, maybe it’s one-sided. But anyway, they don’t have chemistry because Yoochun got bored and found a better toy. So poof goes the sexual tension,” Jaejoong says. When he looks up into his mirror, he sees Yunho staring back at him, eyes dark and pained. He quietly turns on his heel and leaves, making Jaejoong jam his thumb in the direction of where he was previously standing. “Exactly my point.”
“Oh,” Junsu says, pausing. “So, hyung? What about us?”
“You and me? We’ll only have chemistry until this production is over.”
“Oh.”
“You were bored with me and found a better toy?” Yunho repeats in indignation, shoving Yoochun in the bathroom of the fancy restaurant they’re at.
Yoochun is just confused at this point, maybe a little tired of being manhandled, too. “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about, Yunho.”
“Changmin. You’re fucking him?”
“Well, yeah,” Yoochun says with a confused frown, like Yunho has just asked him if he had a penis. “Wait, is that what this is about? You’re getting worked up over Changmin?”
“What does it look like?”
“A housewife throwing a temper tantrum because she just found her husband cheating,” Yoochun suggests, crossing his arms. “Look, you must be misunderstood. We never said we were dating, or that this was exclusive. Don’t be a little bitch about it. If I wanted to have a girlfriend, I’d bang a chick.”
“You’re really the biggest jerk I’ve ever met,” Yunho mutters in one breath, looking down at the tiled floor before meeting Yoochun’s eyes and walking out of the bathroom.
Yoochun shrugs and is about to follow a few seconds later when the door swings open (missing his face by two centimetres) and Yunho is there again, kissing him harder than he ever has and holding on to the small of his back so the he can’t push him away. Then, he locks the bathroom door and turns Yoochun around, shoving him against the sink counter before pushing his pants down. It’s the first time he’s taken the initiative and he fucks Yoochun harder than he ever has, angry and inconsiderate.
When Yunho leaves, Yoochun is still shaking from all over, catching his breath. He barely has the energy to clean himself up, and as he washes his hands, he looks up into the mirror to look at the face of a man who looks like he’s just been thoroughly fucked.
But then, this was the best sex of his life, after all.
“Was that Yunho?” Changmin asks quietly when Yoochun comes to his apartment that night. Yoochun briefly wonders why he always has to pick the ones who have the nose of a basset hound.
“Yeah.”
“Go take a shower.”
Changmin isn’t as prone to emotional attachment as Yunho, Yoochun knows that-he isn’t as sensitive, but Yoochun knows he’s hurt too, and this time, he starts feeling bad. Still, he doesn’t approach Changmin, and instead does what he’s told, because he doesn’t want him to explode. That’s why he’s surprised when Changmin comes into the bathroom while he’s in the shower, sits down on the toilet’s closed lid, and starts talking.
“I don’t know if you realize, but Yunho and I have gotten pretty close. He’s a good hyung. And really-he’s my only friend here. My only real friend.”
Yoochun frowns at that, and imagines Yunho and Changmin together, in just a normal setting. He feels his stomach churn in jealousy at the thought.
“He doesn’t know you like I do,” Yoochun says. He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t-that’s what he tries to convince himself. He knows Yunho is a good friend, a good guy, a good everything, but somehow he doesn’t want him around Changmin.
It’s odd, because at first, he thought Changmin’s puppy love for him would make him possessive, but instead, he’s found himself loving back, and being more possessive than Changmin probably ever will be.
“I think he loves me,” Changmin confesses after a moment. “I think he loves us.”
The water stops abruptly, and Yoochun pushes the curtain to the side so hard it’s practically torn off. “That’s impossible. He can’t love you. He can’t love two people at a time.”
Changmin stands, moving a hand up to cup the side of his face and kiss him softly even though the tips of Yoochun’s wet hair leave drops on his face. “But you do, don’t you? You’ve thrown him off well, but I know better than that, Yoochun. I see the way you look at him, and at me. You can’t hide behind pretending that you only want sex forever, you know. Because eventually someone’s going to find out that you just really, really, really want love, and you find yourself falling too hard and too fast.”
“That’s not true,” Yoochun whispers, but he’s only lying to himself now.
Three hours after Yoochun tells Yunho that they can’t see each other anymore, he kisses Changmin right outside the theatre.
“If I can’t have him, fuck,” he says breathlessly against Changmin’s chapped lips, pulling away as if he’ll be used to his lips next time they touch, “Then I’ll just try to have you.”
“Hyung,” Changmin whines, gripping Yunho’s arms tight. Unlike Yoochun, though, and unlike the way he acts himself with Yoochun, he’s careful not to hurt him or leave bruises. It’s like he’s the most fragile out of the three, but in reality-he’s the strongest.
“What?” There’s a look on Yunho’s eyes that’s saying he’s scared he’ll get rejected again, and he doesn’t want to have to take it. He watches as Changmin wiggles in his hold, pulling out his phone to dial Yoochun’s number. They both wait, Yunho studying the determined look on his face.
“I’ve decided something,” Changmin says into the phone, but he’s looking straight at Yunho; he’s talking to the both of them. “I’m sick of this all happening behind someone’s back all the time. I’m sick of you two playing tug of war with me stuck in the middle while at least one of us gets hurt. This is absolutely ridiculous, and just because it’s a little unconventional doesn’t mean it has to be dysfunctional. Yoochun, you get your apartment in order while Yunho and I go buy dinner. We’re coming over.”
There’s no space for conversation before he hangs up and drags Yunho off to the grocery store.
“Love is a fate resigned,” Yoochun hums, taking a puff from his cigarette. Yunho and Changmin are both asleep beside him, the youngest squished between their naked bodies. He looks on and feels out of place, emptiness filling him.
He never believed in happy endings anyway.
rating: hard r because i didn't have to have the time/energy to write smut orz
pairing: yunho/yoochun/changmin and combinations of the three, ninja!jaesu
summary: actors!dbsk au. your average love triangle.
word count: 2,232
comments: i'm generally proud of this, except that i really crapped out at the end, which i'll probably rewrite come december as this fic is the product of not writing my nanovel because i don't know what to do with it and i'm procrastinating. for the same reason, i haven't proofread this, so if there are ridiculous typos or grammar mistakes i didn't notice, please point them out to me~
though i'm rather blind
love is a fate resigned
love is a losing game, amy winehouse
“Love is a losing game,” Yoochun hums with fatality, smoke traveling out of his mouth in volutes. He’s got his eyes closed and he seems to be waiting for something-when Yunho’s cold fingers touch his jaw from where he’s standing behind him, he doesn’t jump or flinch. He only tilts his head back, eyelashes fluttering as he looks at Yunho upside down.
There’s an invitation in his gaze, a twist in his lips that just draws him in. He leans down, a hand sliding down Yoochun’s chest as he presses their lips together, his nose bumping against his chin. It’s awkward, it’s uncomfortable, but Yunho needs that touch, here and now. Yoochun has always told him he lacks patience, and he admits to being guilty without any regrets. He’s only impatient for him.
When Yoochun pulls away, it’s to take another puff from his cigarette, throwing it to the ground as he stands and stretches. It’s still burning as he pulls Yunho in by the collar of his coat and kisses him the way he wants it, hard and bruising; if it weren’t for the fact that they could easily get found right there and then, he’d probably start undressing him now. He’s got a thing for exhibitionism, but not for getting arrested for fucking Yunho in the park. That would be too good to be true. Instead, they settle for Yunho’s car in the parking lot of the near-abandoned theatre, Yoochun riding him hard in fast in the backseat. He’s got sticky fingers, stealing bits and parts of Yunho under the bruises he leaves, and later, they’ll both think the dull soreness in their muscles from how uncomfortable and cramped Toyotas are was worth it.
“Thanks,” Yoochun breathes when he leaves, pressing Yunho back against the driver’s door as he kisses him again and leaves him fired up for more.
There’s an ache in his lower back from where the handle dug in his skin, but he settles into his seat quietly nonetheless, clothes smelling like cigarette smoke and Yoochun. “Cocktease,” he only mutters to himself angrily, starting the engine. He can only bring himself to say what he really thinks about Yoochun when he’s alone, because the second the other is around, his resolve crumbles like the houses of cards he never managed to build as a kid.
Changmin is the new kid in the troupe, fresh and young, but his eyes are sharp and his brain to mouth filter is nonexistent. He’s both as shy as he is fierce, and he knows Yoochun from long ago-he knows him better than anyone, actually. Things have changed, especially on his side; he’s grown, and he’s more confident, but his admiration for Yoochun that he held before hasn’t faltered. Instead, it’s morphed into something very raw and needy-but Yoochun only finds that out one afternoon when Changmin grabs his arm and pulls him into the scene shop. At this time of the say, the room is dark and there’s no one around, so they’re alone, completely alone.
He ends up with his back pressed to the wall and Changmin’s body against his front, warm and heavy, breathing right against his cheekbone as his fingers curl into his shirt.
“So I heard you like tall guys,” Changmin sneers, making sure to tower over Yoochun.
“Mnmpfssh,” is all Yoochun manages out, and that makes him laugh breathily, grazing his lips over Yoochun’s jaw, right at the exact spot Yunho loves to touch to show his affection.
“I thought you were better than that at thinking up lines on your feet, hyung.”
Yoochun closes his eyes, tries to calm his racing heart. It’s been only a minute since Changmin assaulted him and having him so close is already driving him crazy with lust. After all, he’s always been a sucker for a pliant body just begging to be fucked, and Changmin is even more than that. He has potential, that kid, potential to tie him down with invisible chains that Yoochun will only pull on for show. “That’s because no one ever jumps me on stage, even though I know they all want to.”
“You’ve never stopped being your confident self, I see,” Changmin says, letting them dance around each other a little more. He starts to unbuckle his own belt, pulling his jeans open to take Yoochun’s hand and slide it against the front of his boxers.
“And you’ve never stopped being at my feet.”
Changmin’s teeth bite at Yoochun’s neck as he chuckles darkly. “Is that a request for me to be on my knees?”
Yoochun smirks. He hadn’t even thought of that, but if he’s the one suggesting it, then who is he to protest? He puts a hand on top of Changmin’s head and pushes down, letting him take the hint. If there’s a sound Yoochun loves hearing, it sure is that of a man falling to his knees in front of him and pulling his fly down. Changmin’s mouth is warm and greedy, his tongue just the right amount of eager and his lips tight around him. It’s not his first time, definitely, and Yoochun loves it.
“I didn’t know you were a little cockslut, Changmin-ah,” he coos, running a hand through his brown locks and gripping tightly. Changmin moans, though he can’t be sure what for; all he knows is that the vibrations it sends up his cock are delicious. There’s an unspoken agreement in this exchange-Changmin confesses to being what Yoochun calls him, but it also suggests that Yoochun wants him to be that only for him.
It’s all Changmin ever wanted.
“Jaejoong-hyung,” Junsu calls, walking into the dressing room after rehearsal and plopping down into the seat next to him. Jaejoong only hums in answer as he tries to wipe mascara off his eyes, signalling for him to continue. “What’s up between Yoochun and Changmin?”
“You mean their total lack of chemistry on stage together?”
“Yeah, that.”
Jaejoong drops the cotton ball he’s holding and turns to Junsu on his spinning chair, wearing a feral grin. He’s only wearing make-up on the left side of his face, and it reminds him a little of Mulan. But, after all, Jaejoong was made for tragic heroes. Sometimes heroines. “Junsu-yah, do you know nothing of acting?”
“Um,” Junsu replies incoherently. He didn’t go to freaking Juilliard for nothing.
“Alright, the thing is, chemistry between two attractive actors is all based on sexual tension. If there’s sexual tension, there’s chemistry. If there’s no chemistry, then...well, you do the math.”
Junsu blinks. “But wait, wasn’t Yoochun with Yunho? They never have chemistry on stage.”
“Yeah, theirs isn’t a case of sexual tension anymore. Well, maybe it’s one-sided. But anyway, they don’t have chemistry because Yoochun got bored and found a better toy. So poof goes the sexual tension,” Jaejoong says. When he looks up into his mirror, he sees Yunho staring back at him, eyes dark and pained. He quietly turns on his heel and leaves, making Jaejoong jam his thumb in the direction of where he was previously standing. “Exactly my point.”
“Oh,” Junsu says, pausing. “So, hyung? What about us?”
“You and me? We’ll only have chemistry until this production is over.”
“Oh.”
“You were bored with me and found a better toy?” Yunho repeats in indignation, shoving Yoochun in the bathroom of the fancy restaurant they’re at.
Yoochun is just confused at this point, maybe a little tired of being manhandled, too. “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about, Yunho.”
“Changmin. You’re fucking him?”
“Well, yeah,” Yoochun says with a confused frown, like Yunho has just asked him if he had a penis. “Wait, is that what this is about? You’re getting worked up over Changmin?”
“What does it look like?”
“A housewife throwing a temper tantrum because she just found her husband cheating,” Yoochun suggests, crossing his arms. “Look, you must be misunderstood. We never said we were dating, or that this was exclusive. Don’t be a little bitch about it. If I wanted to have a girlfriend, I’d bang a chick.”
“You’re really the biggest jerk I’ve ever met,” Yunho mutters in one breath, looking down at the tiled floor before meeting Yoochun’s eyes and walking out of the bathroom.
Yoochun shrugs and is about to follow a few seconds later when the door swings open (missing his face by two centimetres) and Yunho is there again, kissing him harder than he ever has and holding on to the small of his back so the he can’t push him away. Then, he locks the bathroom door and turns Yoochun around, shoving him against the sink counter before pushing his pants down. It’s the first time he’s taken the initiative and he fucks Yoochun harder than he ever has, angry and inconsiderate.
When Yunho leaves, Yoochun is still shaking from all over, catching his breath. He barely has the energy to clean himself up, and as he washes his hands, he looks up into the mirror to look at the face of a man who looks like he’s just been thoroughly fucked.
But then, this was the best sex of his life, after all.
“Was that Yunho?” Changmin asks quietly when Yoochun comes to his apartment that night. Yoochun briefly wonders why he always has to pick the ones who have the nose of a basset hound.
“Yeah.”
“Go take a shower.”
Changmin isn’t as prone to emotional attachment as Yunho, Yoochun knows that-he isn’t as sensitive, but Yoochun knows he’s hurt too, and this time, he starts feeling bad. Still, he doesn’t approach Changmin, and instead does what he’s told, because he doesn’t want him to explode. That’s why he’s surprised when Changmin comes into the bathroom while he’s in the shower, sits down on the toilet’s closed lid, and starts talking.
“I don’t know if you realize, but Yunho and I have gotten pretty close. He’s a good hyung. And really-he’s my only friend here. My only real friend.”
Yoochun frowns at that, and imagines Yunho and Changmin together, in just a normal setting. He feels his stomach churn in jealousy at the thought.
“He doesn’t know you like I do,” Yoochun says. He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t-that’s what he tries to convince himself. He knows Yunho is a good friend, a good guy, a good everything, but somehow he doesn’t want him around Changmin.
It’s odd, because at first, he thought Changmin’s puppy love for him would make him possessive, but instead, he’s found himself loving back, and being more possessive than Changmin probably ever will be.
“I think he loves me,” Changmin confesses after a moment. “I think he loves us.”
The water stops abruptly, and Yoochun pushes the curtain to the side so hard it’s practically torn off. “That’s impossible. He can’t love you. He can’t love two people at a time.”
Changmin stands, moving a hand up to cup the side of his face and kiss him softly even though the tips of Yoochun’s wet hair leave drops on his face. “But you do, don’t you? You’ve thrown him off well, but I know better than that, Yoochun. I see the way you look at him, and at me. You can’t hide behind pretending that you only want sex forever, you know. Because eventually someone’s going to find out that you just really, really, really want love, and you find yourself falling too hard and too fast.”
“That’s not true,” Yoochun whispers, but he’s only lying to himself now.
Three hours after Yoochun tells Yunho that they can’t see each other anymore, he kisses Changmin right outside the theatre.
“If I can’t have him, fuck,” he says breathlessly against Changmin’s chapped lips, pulling away as if he’ll be used to his lips next time they touch, “Then I’ll just try to have you.”
“Hyung,” Changmin whines, gripping Yunho’s arms tight. Unlike Yoochun, though, and unlike the way he acts himself with Yoochun, he’s careful not to hurt him or leave bruises. It’s like he’s the most fragile out of the three, but in reality-he’s the strongest.
“What?” There’s a look on Yunho’s eyes that’s saying he’s scared he’ll get rejected again, and he doesn’t want to have to take it. He watches as Changmin wiggles in his hold, pulling out his phone to dial Yoochun’s number. They both wait, Yunho studying the determined look on his face.
“I’ve decided something,” Changmin says into the phone, but he’s looking straight at Yunho; he’s talking to the both of them. “I’m sick of this all happening behind someone’s back all the time. I’m sick of you two playing tug of war with me stuck in the middle while at least one of us gets hurt. This is absolutely ridiculous, and just because it’s a little unconventional doesn’t mean it has to be dysfunctional. Yoochun, you get your apartment in order while Yunho and I go buy dinner. We’re coming over.”
There’s no space for conversation before he hangs up and drags Yunho off to the grocery store.
“Love is a fate resigned,” Yoochun hums, taking a puff from his cigarette. Yunho and Changmin are both asleep beside him, the youngest squished between their naked bodies. He looks on and feels out of place, emptiness filling him.
He never believed in happy endings anyway.