Phone Call of Death (Requested Fic)
Jaejoong gasps into the warm lips pressed against his own.
“Do you want me to stop?” Yunho whispers into his mouth, breath hot, body pressed hard against Jaejoong indicating that the question is just a formality, really, and that he absolutely has no intention of stopping.
“No,” Jaejoong breathes, head thrown back into the pillows, the tender skin of his neck naked, exposed.
Yunho kisses a hot trail down that creamy neck, eliciting little gasps and mewls from the man beneath him.
“You like that?” he asks, voice low and thick.
“Yes…” Jaejoong writhes on the sheets, hands involuntarily running down his own body, one palm kneading the hardness in his pants.
Yunho grabs the smaller man’s wrists in anger and pins them above his head with one hand.
“No,” he growls. “This-” he indicates Jaejoong’s body by running his free hand down his chest and to the inside of his thigh, “-is mine. Not yours.”
Jaejoong’s eyes widen at the other man’s ferocity, but he has no time to think as his lips are assaulted, hard, arms wrapping around him in an iron grip. When his clothes start getting ripped off by deft and determined hands, Jaejoong feels so completely helpless at the mercy of the hot, sweaty man above him that he nearly comes on the spot.
Once both are naked Yunho wastes no time in manually flipping Jaejoong onto his stomach. He hastily slathers his cock with a lubricant and gives the other man just enough time to lift himself onto his knees and elbows before slamming, hard, into that tight, perfect ass.
Jaejoong screams; it hurts so, so much, but he loves it, it makes his cock weep with precum, and in no time he is begging Yunho to go faster, harder.
“You like that, huh?” Yunho murmurs, and Jaejoong tries to breathe to keep from coming at the sound of that voice. “You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” His thrusts pick up speed and Jaejoong’s vision starts to darken. “You like when I fuck your pretty little ass, fuck you ‘til you bleed, like a little whore-“
Riiiiiiing.
Yunho slows the speed of his thrusts and Jaejoong turns his head to glare at the phone on the nightstand.
Riiiiiiing.
“Nngh, Yunho,” Jaejoong breathes, “Don’t stop.” He reaches an arm and presses somewhere on the phone, which is as much concentration as he’s capable of at the moment as the other man continues to thrust into him, and hopes for the best.
The ringing stops. Yunho breathes a sigh of relief, and suddenly he can feel that familiar tightening in his abdomen, his mind going numb as the sensations of his body about to orgasm begin to block out everything else around him.
He doesn’t recognize his own voice as he moans, loudly, obscenely. “Jaejoong, I’m gonna-“
“Hello?” a voice says in English.
Instantly the two men freeze in position.
“Hello? May I speak to Mr. Kim Jaejoong?”
Jaejoong cranes his neck to look up at Yunho.
Yunho groans in realization and slaps him in the head. “You idiot, you put the phone on speaker!”
Jaejoong’s face flushes. “Well what do you expect from me when you’re fucking my brains ou-“
“Um, excuse me? Is this Mr. Kim Jaejoong?” the voice continues in English.
Jaejoong looks at Yunho. Yunho shrugs.
I don’t speak English, Jaejoong mouths. Do something.
Another slap to the head. Do I look like I speak English to you?
“Ummm…” Jaejoong starts in the direction of the phone. “I… am… “ He hisses at Yunho, “How do you say “busy” in English??”
“Fuck if I know, just hang up on the bastard!”
“But what if it’s important!?”
The voice from the phone continues, “Kim Jaejoong, you are hereby under arrest for attempted murder earlier this week. Please come to your local police station and turn yourself in. Also, if you would be so kind as to come in wearing those tight ripped jeans of yours and that low cut v-neck shirt, the police officers would greatly appreciate it. Did you catch all that?”
Yunho’s softened erection pitifully slides out of Jaejoong of its own accord, and Jaejoong is so confused he momentarily forgets his own name.
“What do you think he said?” Yunho asks.
Jaejoong blinks. “Um… something about… French maid outfits? Oh, fuck…” He takes a deep breath and in his best English says, “We-uhh… ENGLISHIE… NO!”
Greasy sniggering and eukyangyangs suddenly erupt from the phone, and two seconds later Yunho is flying towards it, pure murder in his eyes.
“YOOCHUN!!! YOU MOTHERFUCKING GREASY BASTARD, I’LL KILL YOU!!! JUNSU STOP LAUGHING, YOU FUCKING DOLPHIN-“
“Oh, Jaejoong, Jaejoong,” Junsu’s voice imitates from the phone. “I’m gonna c-“
And then Jaejoong grabs the phone, chords and all, and chucks it out the open window, Junsu’s and Yoochun’s voices growing fainter and fainter as the device plummets twelve stories to the hard concrete below.
“Do you want me to stop?” Yunho whispers into his mouth, breath hot, body pressed hard against Jaejoong indicating that the question is just a formality, really, and that he absolutely has no intention of stopping.
“No,” Jaejoong breathes, head thrown back into the pillows, the tender skin of his neck naked, exposed.
Yunho kisses a hot trail down that creamy neck, eliciting little gasps and mewls from the man beneath him.
“You like that?” he asks, voice low and thick.
“Yes…” Jaejoong writhes on the sheets, hands involuntarily running down his own body, one palm kneading the hardness in his pants.
Yunho grabs the smaller man’s wrists in anger and pins them above his head with one hand.
“No,” he growls. “This-” he indicates Jaejoong’s body by running his free hand down his chest and to the inside of his thigh, “-is mine. Not yours.”
Jaejoong’s eyes widen at the other man’s ferocity, but he has no time to think as his lips are assaulted, hard, arms wrapping around him in an iron grip. When his clothes start getting ripped off by deft and determined hands, Jaejoong feels so completely helpless at the mercy of the hot, sweaty man above him that he nearly comes on the spot.
Once both are naked Yunho wastes no time in manually flipping Jaejoong onto his stomach. He hastily slathers his cock with a lubricant and gives the other man just enough time to lift himself onto his knees and elbows before slamming, hard, into that tight, perfect ass.
Jaejoong screams; it hurts so, so much, but he loves it, it makes his cock weep with precum, and in no time he is begging Yunho to go faster, harder.
“You like that, huh?” Yunho murmurs, and Jaejoong tries to breathe to keep from coming at the sound of that voice. “You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” His thrusts pick up speed and Jaejoong’s vision starts to darken. “You like when I fuck your pretty little ass, fuck you ‘til you bleed, like a little whore-“
Riiiiiiing.
Yunho slows the speed of his thrusts and Jaejoong turns his head to glare at the phone on the nightstand.
Riiiiiiing.
“Nngh, Yunho,” Jaejoong breathes, “Don’t stop.” He reaches an arm and presses somewhere on the phone, which is as much concentration as he’s capable of at the moment as the other man continues to thrust into him, and hopes for the best.
The ringing stops. Yunho breathes a sigh of relief, and suddenly he can feel that familiar tightening in his abdomen, his mind going numb as the sensations of his body about to orgasm begin to block out everything else around him.
He doesn’t recognize his own voice as he moans, loudly, obscenely. “Jaejoong, I’m gonna-“
“Hello?” a voice says in English.
Instantly the two men freeze in position.
“Hello? May I speak to Mr. Kim Jaejoong?”
Jaejoong cranes his neck to look up at Yunho.
Yunho groans in realization and slaps him in the head. “You idiot, you put the phone on speaker!”
Jaejoong’s face flushes. “Well what do you expect from me when you’re fucking my brains ou-“
“Um, excuse me? Is this Mr. Kim Jaejoong?” the voice continues in English.
Jaejoong looks at Yunho. Yunho shrugs.
I don’t speak English, Jaejoong mouths. Do something.
Another slap to the head. Do I look like I speak English to you?
“Ummm…” Jaejoong starts in the direction of the phone. “I… am… “ He hisses at Yunho, “How do you say “busy” in English??”
“Fuck if I know, just hang up on the bastard!”
“But what if it’s important!?”
The voice from the phone continues, “Kim Jaejoong, you are hereby under arrest for attempted murder earlier this week. Please come to your local police station and turn yourself in. Also, if you would be so kind as to come in wearing those tight ripped jeans of yours and that low cut v-neck shirt, the police officers would greatly appreciate it. Did you catch all that?”
Yunho’s softened erection pitifully slides out of Jaejoong of its own accord, and Jaejoong is so confused he momentarily forgets his own name.
“What do you think he said?” Yunho asks.
Jaejoong blinks. “Um… something about… French maid outfits? Oh, fuck…” He takes a deep breath and in his best English says, “We-uhh… ENGLISHIE… NO!”
Greasy sniggering and eukyangyangs suddenly erupt from the phone, and two seconds later Yunho is flying towards it, pure murder in his eyes.
“YOOCHUN!!! YOU MOTHERFUCKING GREASY BASTARD, I’LL KILL YOU!!! JUNSU STOP LAUGHING, YOU FUCKING DOLPHIN-“
“Oh, Jaejoong, Jaejoong,” Junsu’s voice imitates from the phone. “I’m gonna c-“
And then Jaejoong grabs the phone, chords and all, and chucks it out the open window, Junsu’s and Yoochun’s voices growing fainter and fainter as the device plummets twelve stories to the hard concrete below.