In the line of fire (Q)
Title: In the line of fire (Q)
Author: Sev-chu
Pairing: Jaejoong x Changmin, Yunho x Junsu (Yunho x ofc) Yoochun x ofc(s)
Rating: pg
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?
When the door swung open, Jaejoong smirked. Leave it to Yoochun to want all of the comforts of home.
“Nice choice,” Jaejoong laughed, his easy Korean causing Yoochun to giggle along.
“Glad you like it.”
The room was small compared to most of the other rooms in the building. An out of the way office that looked more like an old man’s study than anything else he’d seen in a while. It seemed quite odd given the sleek modernity of the rest of the building. Perhaps, Jaejoong thought, it was all that remained of Changmin’s father. That one tie he just couldn’t let go of.
The Yakuza’s eye was drawn to the warm cherry wood desk, Jaejoong’s fingers brushing over the varnished wood as Yoochun closed the door behind the three of them. The standing lamp looked like an antique and he was delighted to see the matching bar held a modest collection of crystal decanters full of copper liquids.
“Drink?” Jaejoong asked, purposefully ignoring the man in the center of the room.
The man sat, tied to one of the outer-office chairs, his hands roped tightly behind him. He made no move to look at his captors, head dropped, chin at his chest. A shallow cut ran the length of his cheek, and Jaejoong could make out the bloodstain wetting the sleeve of his ripped shirt.
Passing a tumbler to both men, Jaejoong sipped the scotch, letting the warmth tingle through his body before he set it down on the table. With a quick nod, he slipped off his jacket, Yoochun doing the same before he began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The rustling fabric finally brought the captured man’s attention forwards, his eyes dilating slightly as both Yakuza displayed their intricate tattoos.
They weren’t just anybody, they were people to be feared.
During the whole display Changmin stood in the shadow, watching carefully as the two Japanese gangsters displayed their ranks and affiliations like proud peacocks. It was something he had always hated seeing his father do, the arrogance the old man had, the measure of snide superiority. It was the reason he remained unmarked, but it was something no one else seemed to understand. However, Changmin thought, as he watched the two men. This seemed to be different. This was more about instilling fear than anything else. It was an interesting notion, a weapon that Changmin rather liked.
Continuing to watch, it seemed as though Jaejoong was waiting for him, letting him take the lead, and so when the young Triad stepped into the light he was delighted to see the bound man jump in surprise. A look of nervous fear overcame his blank features when Changmin drew the first small knife from his pocket.
“I already know you work for the Golden Dragon,” Changmin started, his voice level, his Cantonese a polished, sophisticated reach that belied his role in society. “What I want to know is why I’m so interesting.”
The room remained soundless as the young Triad leader crossed the space to set his untouched drink on the bar. He could feel Jaejoong’s eyes follow him but he otherwise stayed silent letting Changmin have the floor. Yoochun nodded from his position at the door. A hand rested lazily behind his head while he sipped his drink. He had slipped the top buttons of his shirt loose allowing Changmin to distinguish the tattoo that Jaejoong wore in the identical position.
“You better answer him,” Jaejoong grinned.
The desk was comfortable underneath him as the older man slid onto the dark furniture crossing his legs sensually. His eyes scanned the room watching Changmin walk behind the captive, their vision locking in a heated dance before the Yakuza pulled out his dagger slowly from where he had tucked it away in his boot. The man sitting in the chair jerked violently forward causing Yoochun to snap to attention, his motion only halted when Changmin raised his hand as he moved back into the middle of the room.
The tiny knife sat flush against his palm its tip glistening red.
“Why?”
“Because the Rising Sun are weak, have always been weak,” the man finally answered. “You rely on old alliances that no longer mean anything. The Rising Sun is like an old man on his deathbed and it’s time for someone stronger to take its place; someone like the Golden Dragon. We have been in your shadow for far too long. Your father was a small man trying to fill a giant’s shoes. It was a wonder someone didn’t kill him sooner.”
Jaejoong never had a chance to stop him, the Triad eating up the space between himself and the bound man quickly before he buried the small knife into the man’s shoulder. The scream was loud and Jaejoong winced a little, Yoochun raising an eyebrow over what had just happened.
“My father may have been a lot of things,” Changmin whispered beside their captive’s ear. “But he was always a great man.”
“Calm down,” Jaejoong spoke to the other man in Japanese.
He could see Changmin physically shake. It was minute, something no one else would probably notice, but the Yakuza had felt the small tremors more than once and could pick them out easily.
“I am calm,” Changmin replied, looking over his shoulder at the other man, his eyes flashing.
“Sure,” Jaejoong laughed.
His hand already at his mouth, the Yakuza yawned. The desk looked rather comfortable, he thought, and he suddenly felt a bit sleepy as he watched Changmin circle the bound man again; walking off his anger. Swinging his feet onto the desk seemed like a good idea, laying down over the large expanse of wood even better.
Keeping a younger lover was going to wear him out.
Blinking, the new angle put him at a great advantage as far as Changmin’s ass was concerned, and Jaejoong found he could stare their enemy down better, their eyes making a more direct line of contact. The man quickly looked away, trying to hide his emotions from the Yakuza.
“Who do you work for? Who’s your leader?”
Changmin’s voice was back to its calm vibrato, another glint of metal sliding into his palm. Looking over his shoulder, he was met with Jaejoong staring at the ceiling, one leg drawn up so that he was in a more comfortable position. Cigarette perched on his lips the Yakuza had the appearance of contemplation over lighting it dusting his features.
“No clue,”
The right hook knocked the man’s face sideways, the chair teetering until it finally righted itself with strength of will. A matching gash on the opposite side of his face bled fresh crimson drops down the man’s cheek.
“Who do you work for?”
“I said I don’t know,” the man growled.
The second punch cut off anything else he may have tried to say, and this time the chair lost its battle with inertia, toppling over onto the floor.
“Who?!”
“You know,” Jaejoong interjected, waving his hand around to get Changmin’s attention. “As delightful as this is, maybe he really doesn’t know.”
Wiggling on the desk, Jaejoong exaggerated the arch in his back when he caught Changmin staring at him. His hips rolled along the wood until he was able to free the pack of smokes from his pocket, the white carton being waved towards Yoochun before he slid the stick back inside, now uninterested. Changmin stopped as if he really hadn’t considered that possibility, ponder Jaejoong as Yoochun righted the man bound to the chair, shrugging off the oldest’ invitation for a cigarette.
“You think so?” Changmin sent a murderous glare towards the bound man. He long legs stretched as he walked towards the desk.
Being declined, Jaejoong shrugged dropping the white pack above his head. He rolled onto his side, eyes looking up at Changmin as the younger man stood with his hip pushed out, hands perched and elbows cocked out and what the Yakuza thought was a very funny-looking angle.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Jaejoong’s smile beamed as he sat up and slid off the desk with a feline grace. "Good thing my Cantonese has gotten better."
Changmin couldn’t suppress the grin that it pulled from his lips as he settled against the now vacant furniture. He could feel the warmth that Jaejoong’s body had left behind seep through his clothing when he leaned against the wood, crossing his ankles, leaning back on his arms to watch the older man’s interrogation.
“Now, I personally don’t really care about all that other stuff,” Jaejoong smirked, inspecting his dagger in-front of the man.
The hilt glistened, the intricate designs worked in gold. Two dragons worked their way around the weapon, one chasing the other in an endless game of tag. The blade was straight and well sharpened, a smoke pattern dancing along the weapon’s outer edge as a continuation of the dragon scene.
“Japan, now, that’s a place that’s far more interesting, and I know you’d agree with that. So, why don’t you tell me what you know about that, and I’ll think about the possibilities of aligning myself with the Golden Dragon.”
Jaejoong watched as the man in the chair watched him, trying to get a handle on just what exactly was going on. The Yakuza kept his back to Changmin as he pondered if the young leader had that angered look on his face that drove Jaejoong crazy.
“Don’t be shy,” he coaxed. “I’m in the business of doing business, and that little speech you just gave got me thinking. I’m not about to pass up a lucrative proposition when I see one; or a powerful ally for that matter.“
“Everyone knows there is money to be made in Japan, new markets to exploit.” The man began cautiously. “Unlike the Rising Sun, the Golden Dragon is not blinded by ancient customs and exclusionist empiric ideals. We see the benefit of diversifying, of expanding. You would do well to align yourself with us. Forget the Rising Sun, hand him over, and do business with us instead.”
The glint of the dagger caught in the light as Jaejoong turned it over in his hand trying to decide how naive the man was, or perhaps, just stupid. Slipping his gaze over to Yoochun, he couldn’t help but notice how the man seemed to be a bit uneasy. A hand cautiously sat along his waist, his fingers just brushing over his gun.
“He thinks we should betray our friends,” Jaejoong spoke in Korean, giving Yoochun the gist of the conversation. Jaejoong would be lying if he said he understood everything the man was saying, but he couldn't ask the younger man. It would make him seem weak. “Apparently we’re very popular.”
“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Yoochun laughed, watching Jaejoong’s eyebrow arch before he laughed.
Jaejoong still refused to acknowledge Changmin standing behind him; there was a lesson to learn in all of this. Betrayal should never be pushed out of mind; it was the name of the game, and to forget that, in their business, could mean a bullet and an abrupt end. Given the Triad’s earlier outburst Jaejoong was surprised he wasn’t bleeding yet. Changmin was showing more restraint and trust that he had thought the younger man possessed. It made Jaejoong a bit dizzy. He had never been able to trust another person that openly with the exception of Yoochun. He would call Changmin stupid for doing so, but he knew the young man was far from being dim-witted.
“Where would I make such a transaction?” The older man asked, pointing his dagger at the Triad leader.
He willed the other man to trust him for just a second longer, tried to brace himself for any sort of pain that might suddenly flood his senses.
“In the old market.”
“And if I agreed, what would I get? How do I know you’re not sending me to my death?”
The man looked confused as Jaejoong came around his side. The sound of tearing fabric echoed through the small room before it was followed by a triumphant sound from the Yakuza leader. Along the exposed upper arm of his captive, he had revealed an elaborately etched tattoo of a traditional four-clawed dragon. The highlights in yellow and dashes of orange made Jaejoong marvel at the artistic beauty.
“Did you know that it’s a taboo to disfigure a depiction of a dragon?” Jaejoong asked casually as he traced the artworks outline before he pressed the blade to the skin just above the tattoo. “I’ll just have to cut carefully so I take the whole thing, it truly is beautiful.”
“No!” The man yelled, rocking the chair back and forth trying to get away from the Yakuza as he pressed his dagger into the tender skin. A run of blood ran along the etched metal, the ruby drops hitting the floor just shy of Jaejoong’s shoes.
“You don’t want me to have it?” Jaejoong pouted.
He finally brought his vision towards Changmin, the younger man staring at him with a mixture of shock and murderous adoration on his face. The stare lingered as both men were caught up in looking at each other before Jaejoong hooded his eyes slightly, and he saw the younger man shudder.
“Fine then.”
The man’s body visibly trembled, his body shaking when Jaejoong moved the weapon away from his skin. The blood continued to drip from the man’s arm. The gash was deep enough to require stitches in order to stop the bleeding, not that that was any of Jaejoong’s concern. The Yakuza lifted the weapon to his lips, dabbed his tongue along the blade.
“You know, I’ve been here for quite some time now, long enough that I miss the way the sun sets in the Kyoto sky. But, the thing I’ve realized is that there is only one person in this whole country whose blood doesn’t taste repulsive.”
Anticipating, as he always did, what Jaejoong was looking for Yoochun slid the older man a few tissue so that he could wipe the red stain from the blade of his dagger. A squeeze of hand sanitizer from the small travel bottle bought Yoochun an endearing smile and a quick wink before the leader slid the weapon back into his boot.
"Always taking care of me," Jaejoong whispered.
He worked the cold jelly over his hands making sure there was no blood collecting under his well manicured fingernails. When he was satisfied Jaejoong waved his hands down by his thighs trying to dry the excess alcohol from his skin. Three knocks on the door in rapid succession brought everyone’s attention towards the threshold. When Yoochun slide the door open he found Junsu and Yunho standing in the hallway waiting to be ushered in. The Korean man smiled as Junsu winked at him, the taller man waving a white sheet of paper in his hand.
“Ah, you’re just in time,” Jaejoong clapped.
He could see Changmin’s attention switch between being concerned about the man tied to the chair and the two new bodies standing in the room. Acknowledging the two men the Triad leader caught Junsu’s ear quickly catching him up on what they had missed. A bit of extra information that Jaejoong couldn’t hear made Changmin frown a worry settling slightly over Jaejoong as the younger man’s jaw clenched quickly after.
He couldn’t let it distract him, one thing at a time. “I was just about to ask why our present company was sneaking around with his friends.”
“We already know,” Yunho said, and he didn’t miss the look Jaejoong gave him, like he had just ruined all of the other man’s fun.
He tried not to linger on the man sitting in the center of the room. The blood dripping into a small circle on the floor made Yunho dizzy, and slightly nauseous. Noticing he paleness, Yunho could feel Junsu slide a bit closer to him ready to catch him, and giving him a shoulder to lean on should he need it.
“We do?” the three men not in the loop said in a mash of words.
“We do,” Junsu supplied.
He motioned towards Yunho who held up the white sheet of paper for the three to see. There was a blanched look of almost fear on Yunho’s face and Jaejoong kept the information close to him. He also tried not to laugh when he realized the taller man was wearing one of Junsu’s shirts.
“So,” Jaejoong shrugged, looking over to their captive. “I guess that means you’ve just become expendable. But, I want you to know I would never, under any circumstances, now, or in the future, hand over the leader of the Rising Sun to the Golden Dragon. You people have no honor, and it makes me sick.”
Changmin let out a shocked grunt when Jaejoong hauled him close by his belt. Their bodies pressed together as the man gawked. Jaejoong’s breath was hot on the Triad leader’s neck, his hands slipping around Changmin’s thin figure to grab his ass.
“Would you like to do the honours baby?”
Jaejoong smiled when Changmin slipped the gun into his hand and raised his arm to take aim at the man now marked for execution. He could see the bead of sweat tumble down the man’s brow as he began to plead and rock uselessly. Crushing their lips together, Jaejoong kissed the younger man deeply, a renewed feeling of their commitment and affiliation being sealed for a second time.
He didn’t even hear the sound of Changmin’s gun firing.
Author: Sev-chu
Pairing: Jaejoong x Changmin, Yunho x Junsu (Yunho x ofc) Yoochun x ofc(s)
Rating: pg
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?
When the door swung open, Jaejoong smirked. Leave it to Yoochun to want all of the comforts of home.
“Nice choice,” Jaejoong laughed, his easy Korean causing Yoochun to giggle along.
“Glad you like it.”
The room was small compared to most of the other rooms in the building. An out of the way office that looked more like an old man’s study than anything else he’d seen in a while. It seemed quite odd given the sleek modernity of the rest of the building. Perhaps, Jaejoong thought, it was all that remained of Changmin’s father. That one tie he just couldn’t let go of.
The Yakuza’s eye was drawn to the warm cherry wood desk, Jaejoong’s fingers brushing over the varnished wood as Yoochun closed the door behind the three of them. The standing lamp looked like an antique and he was delighted to see the matching bar held a modest collection of crystal decanters full of copper liquids.
“Drink?” Jaejoong asked, purposefully ignoring the man in the center of the room.
The man sat, tied to one of the outer-office chairs, his hands roped tightly behind him. He made no move to look at his captors, head dropped, chin at his chest. A shallow cut ran the length of his cheek, and Jaejoong could make out the bloodstain wetting the sleeve of his ripped shirt.
Passing a tumbler to both men, Jaejoong sipped the scotch, letting the warmth tingle through his body before he set it down on the table. With a quick nod, he slipped off his jacket, Yoochun doing the same before he began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The rustling fabric finally brought the captured man’s attention forwards, his eyes dilating slightly as both Yakuza displayed their intricate tattoos.
They weren’t just anybody, they were people to be feared.
During the whole display Changmin stood in the shadow, watching carefully as the two Japanese gangsters displayed their ranks and affiliations like proud peacocks. It was something he had always hated seeing his father do, the arrogance the old man had, the measure of snide superiority. It was the reason he remained unmarked, but it was something no one else seemed to understand. However, Changmin thought, as he watched the two men. This seemed to be different. This was more about instilling fear than anything else. It was an interesting notion, a weapon that Changmin rather liked.
Continuing to watch, it seemed as though Jaejoong was waiting for him, letting him take the lead, and so when the young Triad stepped into the light he was delighted to see the bound man jump in surprise. A look of nervous fear overcame his blank features when Changmin drew the first small knife from his pocket.
“I already know you work for the Golden Dragon,” Changmin started, his voice level, his Cantonese a polished, sophisticated reach that belied his role in society. “What I want to know is why I’m so interesting.”
The room remained soundless as the young Triad leader crossed the space to set his untouched drink on the bar. He could feel Jaejoong’s eyes follow him but he otherwise stayed silent letting Changmin have the floor. Yoochun nodded from his position at the door. A hand rested lazily behind his head while he sipped his drink. He had slipped the top buttons of his shirt loose allowing Changmin to distinguish the tattoo that Jaejoong wore in the identical position.
“You better answer him,” Jaejoong grinned.
The desk was comfortable underneath him as the older man slid onto the dark furniture crossing his legs sensually. His eyes scanned the room watching Changmin walk behind the captive, their vision locking in a heated dance before the Yakuza pulled out his dagger slowly from where he had tucked it away in his boot. The man sitting in the chair jerked violently forward causing Yoochun to snap to attention, his motion only halted when Changmin raised his hand as he moved back into the middle of the room.
The tiny knife sat flush against his palm its tip glistening red.
“Why?”
“Because the Rising Sun are weak, have always been weak,” the man finally answered. “You rely on old alliances that no longer mean anything. The Rising Sun is like an old man on his deathbed and it’s time for someone stronger to take its place; someone like the Golden Dragon. We have been in your shadow for far too long. Your father was a small man trying to fill a giant’s shoes. It was a wonder someone didn’t kill him sooner.”
Jaejoong never had a chance to stop him, the Triad eating up the space between himself and the bound man quickly before he buried the small knife into the man’s shoulder. The scream was loud and Jaejoong winced a little, Yoochun raising an eyebrow over what had just happened.
“My father may have been a lot of things,” Changmin whispered beside their captive’s ear. “But he was always a great man.”
“Calm down,” Jaejoong spoke to the other man in Japanese.
He could see Changmin physically shake. It was minute, something no one else would probably notice, but the Yakuza had felt the small tremors more than once and could pick them out easily.
“I am calm,” Changmin replied, looking over his shoulder at the other man, his eyes flashing.
“Sure,” Jaejoong laughed.
His hand already at his mouth, the Yakuza yawned. The desk looked rather comfortable, he thought, and he suddenly felt a bit sleepy as he watched Changmin circle the bound man again; walking off his anger. Swinging his feet onto the desk seemed like a good idea, laying down over the large expanse of wood even better.
Keeping a younger lover was going to wear him out.
Blinking, the new angle put him at a great advantage as far as Changmin’s ass was concerned, and Jaejoong found he could stare their enemy down better, their eyes making a more direct line of contact. The man quickly looked away, trying to hide his emotions from the Yakuza.
“Who do you work for? Who’s your leader?”
Changmin’s voice was back to its calm vibrato, another glint of metal sliding into his palm. Looking over his shoulder, he was met with Jaejoong staring at the ceiling, one leg drawn up so that he was in a more comfortable position. Cigarette perched on his lips the Yakuza had the appearance of contemplation over lighting it dusting his features.
“No clue,”
The right hook knocked the man’s face sideways, the chair teetering until it finally righted itself with strength of will. A matching gash on the opposite side of his face bled fresh crimson drops down the man’s cheek.
“Who do you work for?”
“I said I don’t know,” the man growled.
The second punch cut off anything else he may have tried to say, and this time the chair lost its battle with inertia, toppling over onto the floor.
“Who?!”
“You know,” Jaejoong interjected, waving his hand around to get Changmin’s attention. “As delightful as this is, maybe he really doesn’t know.”
Wiggling on the desk, Jaejoong exaggerated the arch in his back when he caught Changmin staring at him. His hips rolled along the wood until he was able to free the pack of smokes from his pocket, the white carton being waved towards Yoochun before he slid the stick back inside, now uninterested. Changmin stopped as if he really hadn’t considered that possibility, ponder Jaejoong as Yoochun righted the man bound to the chair, shrugging off the oldest’ invitation for a cigarette.
“You think so?” Changmin sent a murderous glare towards the bound man. He long legs stretched as he walked towards the desk.
Being declined, Jaejoong shrugged dropping the white pack above his head. He rolled onto his side, eyes looking up at Changmin as the younger man stood with his hip pushed out, hands perched and elbows cocked out and what the Yakuza thought was a very funny-looking angle.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Jaejoong’s smile beamed as he sat up and slid off the desk with a feline grace. "Good thing my Cantonese has gotten better."
Changmin couldn’t suppress the grin that it pulled from his lips as he settled against the now vacant furniture. He could feel the warmth that Jaejoong’s body had left behind seep through his clothing when he leaned against the wood, crossing his ankles, leaning back on his arms to watch the older man’s interrogation.
“Now, I personally don’t really care about all that other stuff,” Jaejoong smirked, inspecting his dagger in-front of the man.
The hilt glistened, the intricate designs worked in gold. Two dragons worked their way around the weapon, one chasing the other in an endless game of tag. The blade was straight and well sharpened, a smoke pattern dancing along the weapon’s outer edge as a continuation of the dragon scene.
“Japan, now, that’s a place that’s far more interesting, and I know you’d agree with that. So, why don’t you tell me what you know about that, and I’ll think about the possibilities of aligning myself with the Golden Dragon.”
Jaejoong watched as the man in the chair watched him, trying to get a handle on just what exactly was going on. The Yakuza kept his back to Changmin as he pondered if the young leader had that angered look on his face that drove Jaejoong crazy.
“Don’t be shy,” he coaxed. “I’m in the business of doing business, and that little speech you just gave got me thinking. I’m not about to pass up a lucrative proposition when I see one; or a powerful ally for that matter.“
“Everyone knows there is money to be made in Japan, new markets to exploit.” The man began cautiously. “Unlike the Rising Sun, the Golden Dragon is not blinded by ancient customs and exclusionist empiric ideals. We see the benefit of diversifying, of expanding. You would do well to align yourself with us. Forget the Rising Sun, hand him over, and do business with us instead.”
The glint of the dagger caught in the light as Jaejoong turned it over in his hand trying to decide how naive the man was, or perhaps, just stupid. Slipping his gaze over to Yoochun, he couldn’t help but notice how the man seemed to be a bit uneasy. A hand cautiously sat along his waist, his fingers just brushing over his gun.
“He thinks we should betray our friends,” Jaejoong spoke in Korean, giving Yoochun the gist of the conversation. Jaejoong would be lying if he said he understood everything the man was saying, but he couldn't ask the younger man. It would make him seem weak. “Apparently we’re very popular.”
“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Yoochun laughed, watching Jaejoong’s eyebrow arch before he laughed.
Jaejoong still refused to acknowledge Changmin standing behind him; there was a lesson to learn in all of this. Betrayal should never be pushed out of mind; it was the name of the game, and to forget that, in their business, could mean a bullet and an abrupt end. Given the Triad’s earlier outburst Jaejoong was surprised he wasn’t bleeding yet. Changmin was showing more restraint and trust that he had thought the younger man possessed. It made Jaejoong a bit dizzy. He had never been able to trust another person that openly with the exception of Yoochun. He would call Changmin stupid for doing so, but he knew the young man was far from being dim-witted.
“Where would I make such a transaction?” The older man asked, pointing his dagger at the Triad leader.
He willed the other man to trust him for just a second longer, tried to brace himself for any sort of pain that might suddenly flood his senses.
“In the old market.”
“And if I agreed, what would I get? How do I know you’re not sending me to my death?”
The man looked confused as Jaejoong came around his side. The sound of tearing fabric echoed through the small room before it was followed by a triumphant sound from the Yakuza leader. Along the exposed upper arm of his captive, he had revealed an elaborately etched tattoo of a traditional four-clawed dragon. The highlights in yellow and dashes of orange made Jaejoong marvel at the artistic beauty.
“Did you know that it’s a taboo to disfigure a depiction of a dragon?” Jaejoong asked casually as he traced the artworks outline before he pressed the blade to the skin just above the tattoo. “I’ll just have to cut carefully so I take the whole thing, it truly is beautiful.”
“No!” The man yelled, rocking the chair back and forth trying to get away from the Yakuza as he pressed his dagger into the tender skin. A run of blood ran along the etched metal, the ruby drops hitting the floor just shy of Jaejoong’s shoes.
“You don’t want me to have it?” Jaejoong pouted.
He finally brought his vision towards Changmin, the younger man staring at him with a mixture of shock and murderous adoration on his face. The stare lingered as both men were caught up in looking at each other before Jaejoong hooded his eyes slightly, and he saw the younger man shudder.
“Fine then.”
The man’s body visibly trembled, his body shaking when Jaejoong moved the weapon away from his skin. The blood continued to drip from the man’s arm. The gash was deep enough to require stitches in order to stop the bleeding, not that that was any of Jaejoong’s concern. The Yakuza lifted the weapon to his lips, dabbed his tongue along the blade.
“You know, I’ve been here for quite some time now, long enough that I miss the way the sun sets in the Kyoto sky. But, the thing I’ve realized is that there is only one person in this whole country whose blood doesn’t taste repulsive.”
Anticipating, as he always did, what Jaejoong was looking for Yoochun slid the older man a few tissue so that he could wipe the red stain from the blade of his dagger. A squeeze of hand sanitizer from the small travel bottle bought Yoochun an endearing smile and a quick wink before the leader slid the weapon back into his boot.
"Always taking care of me," Jaejoong whispered.
He worked the cold jelly over his hands making sure there was no blood collecting under his well manicured fingernails. When he was satisfied Jaejoong waved his hands down by his thighs trying to dry the excess alcohol from his skin. Three knocks on the door in rapid succession brought everyone’s attention towards the threshold. When Yoochun slide the door open he found Junsu and Yunho standing in the hallway waiting to be ushered in. The Korean man smiled as Junsu winked at him, the taller man waving a white sheet of paper in his hand.
“Ah, you’re just in time,” Jaejoong clapped.
He could see Changmin’s attention switch between being concerned about the man tied to the chair and the two new bodies standing in the room. Acknowledging the two men the Triad leader caught Junsu’s ear quickly catching him up on what they had missed. A bit of extra information that Jaejoong couldn’t hear made Changmin frown a worry settling slightly over Jaejoong as the younger man’s jaw clenched quickly after.
He couldn’t let it distract him, one thing at a time. “I was just about to ask why our present company was sneaking around with his friends.”
“We already know,” Yunho said, and he didn’t miss the look Jaejoong gave him, like he had just ruined all of the other man’s fun.
He tried not to linger on the man sitting in the center of the room. The blood dripping into a small circle on the floor made Yunho dizzy, and slightly nauseous. Noticing he paleness, Yunho could feel Junsu slide a bit closer to him ready to catch him, and giving him a shoulder to lean on should he need it.
“We do?” the three men not in the loop said in a mash of words.
“We do,” Junsu supplied.
He motioned towards Yunho who held up the white sheet of paper for the three to see. There was a blanched look of almost fear on Yunho’s face and Jaejoong kept the information close to him. He also tried not to laugh when he realized the taller man was wearing one of Junsu’s shirts.
“So,” Jaejoong shrugged, looking over to their captive. “I guess that means you’ve just become expendable. But, I want you to know I would never, under any circumstances, now, or in the future, hand over the leader of the Rising Sun to the Golden Dragon. You people have no honor, and it makes me sick.”
Changmin let out a shocked grunt when Jaejoong hauled him close by his belt. Their bodies pressed together as the man gawked. Jaejoong’s breath was hot on the Triad leader’s neck, his hands slipping around Changmin’s thin figure to grab his ass.
“Would you like to do the honours baby?”
Jaejoong smiled when Changmin slipped the gun into his hand and raised his arm to take aim at the man now marked for execution. He could see the bead of sweat tumble down the man’s brow as he began to plead and rock uselessly. Crushing their lips together, Jaejoong kissed the younger man deeply, a renewed feeling of their commitment and affiliation being sealed for a second time.
He didn’t even hear the sound of Changmin’s gun firing.