Fic: In the line of fire (c)
Title: In the line of fire (c)
Author: Sev-chu
Pairing: Jaejoong x Changmin, Yunho x Junsu (Yunho x ofc) Yoochun x ofc(s)
Rating: Pg - Nc-17
Summary: Mob wars are painting the streets of Hong Kong and Japan red with blood ensnaring the rogue cop in its wake. Can Yunho find him in time to save him and is he ready for what he finds? Can the gangs unite to stop the violence or will they tear each other apart with their greed?
No matter what she was doing she was liquid motion, Yoochun thought.
Her body was lean but toned from the nights she spent dancing around solid metal. Her skin was like burnished copper, exotic, and for a whore she kept herself preened to perfection. She smelt like rose hips and vanilla, an intricate tattoo laced down her side from the fall of her rounded breast to the jut of her hip. There were no bruises on her face, no track marks on her arms, body moving over his like every kind of sin.
She knew what he was and wasn’t afraid of him.
It was why she was Yoochun’s favourite, his trophy.
The side-table light gave off a thick glow through the smoke filled hotel room as her soft lips trailed down his chest. The thread-bare comforter’s washed out floral print caressing Yoochun’s skin almost as well as he hummed his approval and felt a smile in return. Her lips teased along his stomach, ring-decorated fingers pulling at the base of his cock and Yoochun allowed his eyes the time to evaluate the room. It was cheap, paid for by the hour with no questions asked. Not that he couldn’t afford something on the more high-end scale, he just didn’t see the need for it. It wasn’t like he was going to be staying after.
Their clothes were a mess of fabrics on stained beige carpet, the mingling of wealth and power reproduced in flesh and bone on the bed where Yoochun was more than content to be the pauper in this game of titles.
Cherry red lips made a perfect ‘O’ as Yoochun turned his head, eyes roaming down her back. He wouldn’t miss this for the world, couldn’t miss her perfectly shaped lips as they descended upon his cock. He could picture the red ring of colour that she would leave around his dick when she was finished, a small souvenir for the money he had spent on the pleasure she was giving him.
Yoochun sank deeper into the well worn mattress allowing lips and sound to be his stimuli as he fumbled on the bedside table for the pack of Camels and his lighter. He could feel her tongue massage his shaft, the orgasm building on the periphery of his nervous system until it was flooding through his body.
The cell phone beside the pack of Camel’s chirped to life, buzzing across the table like it was having a seizure. The LCD screen blinked with caller id in a feverish pitch but Yoochun didn’t see it, just scooped the device into his hand growling a harsh “what!” into the speaker.
“Is that anyway to talk to your boss? I’m disappointed Yoochunie,” Jaejoong cooed across the connection.
“My apologies Hyungnim,” Yoochun stammered sitting up.
He hastily pushed her roaming hands away from his skin. He tried to ignoring the disheartened look on her face as he pushed her off his lap so he could reach for his underwear, phone still clutched to his ear.
“We have a guest in my office I think you should come and say hello to.“
“I’ll be there in ten minutes Hyungnim,” Yoochun acknowledged.
He gathered his pants as Jaejoong spoke to someone else who appeared to be with him in his office, followed by what he determined to be Cantonese. So, they had finally managed to capture one of the rival members. Throwing some crumpled bills onto the comforter Yoochun grabbed for his shirt and his gun; heading towards the door.
“Excellent. Yoochunnie?”
“Yes?”
“Pick up some hand sanitizer will you? I’m almost out.”
………….
Three knocks on the barrier later and a yell of ‘in!' Yoochun let the heavy wooden door swing open to reveal the spacious interior of Jaejoong’s office.
The gang leader’s private suite was lavishly decorated, all the trapping of a seemingly high profile business man littering the large room. Plush seating gave the room an almost inviting feeling offset by an ornate rug covering the floor. Its tapestry was a marvel of woven reds and gold’s highlighting the dark chocolate leather while accents in orange showcased Jaejoong’s decorative flare. Rich would be the perfect word to describe the feeling on display.
The walls were a light tope colour interspersed with scrolls and highly decorative swords mounted to display the power of the owner. A large picture window gave the perfect view of the downtown Kyoto cityscape and Yoochun recalled the numerous stories of his boss’s sexual conquests pressed against the large expanse of glass.
Tonight the rich burgundy drapes were drawn shut to hide the more sinister dealings that were being undertaken.
With heavy feet Yoochun crossed the room towards the large mahogany desk. Its polished surface gleamed underneath perfectly stacked mounds of paper and a gold name plate sitting at its edge read 死神(death God) in high calligraphy font.
“Yoochun-sshi?” Jaejoong’s voice broke through the awkward silence that had enveloped the room as he had entered. “How much do I owe you?”
Looking up Yoochun could see Jaejoong as he stood, fully attired in black, in the middle of the office. His sleeves were rolled up just past his elbows, allowing the tattoo of the death god on his left forearm to be displayed. Beside him stood a red-haired man Yoochun had seen on multiple occasions before, but still didn’t know a lot about.
“Eleven and at least two orgasms,” Yoochun groused in reply.
He still hadn’t given up being angry at the other man for interrupting his ‘leisure time’ as he liked to call it.
“Ahhh, so that explains the flippant tone,” Jaejoong laughed. “You know I’m always more than willing to compensate you for your loss.”
Pulling the clear bottle out of the bag, Yoochun furrowed his eyebrows, burning a stare into the back of the older man’s head. He placed the newly acquired bottle of hand sanitizer beside the box of tissue, making sure to gather the empty bottle in order to deposit it and the bag in the trash can under Jaejoong’s desk.
“Just the money will be fine Hyungnim,” Yoochun refuted, shaking his head as Jaejoong just laughed at him.
His let his eyes scan the room as he gathered the gun from the inside pocket of his jacket and placed it on the desk, slipping the garment off so that he could drape it over the back of the desk chair. Just in-front of the two men he could see their captor squirm. He had been tied to a rickety chair, the blindfold used to transport him to the office hanging loosely around his neck. Yoochun watched as the man observed them silently, blood dripping down his bruised face from a large gash cut above his eye along the hairline towards his temple.
As Yoochun crossed the room to stand just off to the side of the leader Jaejoong turned to face him, Yoochun’s eyebrow rising in question at the highly ornate katana in his boss’s hand. The long blade was skilfully crafted, the ornate decorations at its hilt shimmering in the overhead lighting. Upon further inspection Yoochun noticed that running the length of the blade was a wet sheen of red.
“What? It’s a special occasion. It’s not very often we have a guest now is it?”
“Perhaps we could get to the point?” the red head finally spoke up, snapping his fingers to gain their attention.
“Yes! Fine then,” Jaejoong almost jumped, mumbling something about ruining all of the fun. “I still haven’t gotten an answer to my last question.”
The other man nodded, quickly breaking into angered Cantonese and it was then that Yoochun remembered the man’s name, Kim Heechul, Jaejoong’s older brother. The last time he recalled seeing Heechul the man’s hair was short and brown. Now longer and red, Yoochun thought it suited him more, melded with his fiery personality. It wasn’t very often that Jaejoong called on his older brother, Heechul preferring to run things within their Chinese market, but he was very helpful in situation such as this. For someone who yelled a lot, language was Heechul’s weapon.
“He’s saying something about having their eyes set on Japan while their foothold grows in Hong Kong”
“Hmmm, ambitious aren’t we?”
Yoochun laughed as Jaejoong mulled over the situation. He watched as the leader’s brows furrowed in contemplation, the sword lightly rolling in his hand. He let the smile on his face linger as he enjoyed thinking about how their captive was going to regret giving such a vague reply, almost jumped when Jaejoong lunged out. The sweep of the blade hit low to sever a few of the man’s fingers where they met his palm and all that filled the room for a time was an ear-splitting shriek.
“Perhaps you should ask him to clarify?”
Heechul spoke again while Jaejoong and Yoochun exchanged glances. He nodded before he crossed back over the large area run to grab his gun from the desk, flicking the safety on. Yoochun slid the barrel into the back of his dress pants before deciding it would be in his best interest to grab a few tissues and the hand sanitizer along with his weapon.
By the time he got back to Jaejoong’s side Heechul was already translating.
“He says, we, like the Rising Sun will fall at their feet and beg for our lives while we bleed to death.”
Yoochun swallowed as he watched the cold demeanor fall over Jaejoong’s angled features. He watched as the man in the chair began to struggle as the look turned just shy of crazed.
With their eyes still locked Jaejoong brought the blade up to his plush lips, tongue darting out to lick the metal clean of any blood that was once coating it. “Did you know, in some ancient cultures they believed that drinking the blood of their enemies would make them stronger?”
“Yeah right, since when did you become a walking encyclopaedia?” Heechul scoffed, holding his expression. The only reason Yoochun could tell that they were verbally sparring was that he knew what they were saying.
“Since the invention of television, what do you have?”
“I can speak six languages bitch. You’re wasting my time, get on with it or I’ll kill him myself.”
”Fine then! Yoochun, if you’d be so kind?”
Responding, Yoochun held out his hand to gather the katana from Jaejoong before giving him one of the tissues and a pump of the hand sanitizer in return. He could see the small smudges of blood dotting along the man’s hands like freckles before they were obliterated by the overly fragranced glob of rubbing alcohol. Jaejoong wiped his hands together as he crossed his office in a few short strides to ditch the used tissue in the garbage, turning so that he could sit on the well polished desktop.
“I’m going to kill you now,” he purred, the mangled Cantonese, leaving a moment for translation before the prisoner began to struggle in his bindings.
Before he could even loosing the hastily tied knots Jaejoong had fired the necessary, well-aimed shot and the two men standing witness turned back towards the Yakuza leader as the slow dribble of blood inked its way down the dead man’s forehead.
“What now?” Yoochun asked, watching Jaejoong unscrew the silencer from his gun. “That really didn’t help us much.”
“Oh Yoochunnie,” the gang-leader smiled, eyes slipping towards Heechul. “Weren’t you listening? The Rising Sun, I want to know who they are. Perhaps it’s time we made some new friends.”