ready, aim, fire (1/2)
It’s nothing like the things you see at the movies; the gadgets, the girls.
“Mr. Lee? Lee Soo Man?”
The bad guys.
The man at the desk looks up and Yoochun imagines he’s exhausted, working overtime far too many nights a week with too many documents, cold cups of coffee as companions.
“Yes?”
The good.
Yoochun pulls the trigger and the man falls forward onto his files, papers, bullet hole a perfect circle of symmetry in the center of his forehead, dead before he can even begin to comprehend just what was really happening. Yoochun presses the gun into the dead man’s grasp, gloves making sure only one set of prints will be found in the morning. Adrenaline forces him helter skelter through the whole process but it’s precise enough, Yoochun biting the inside of his cheek when the dead man’s cell phone rings.
Wife, perhaps? Not that he actually cares, he’s been sleeping easy ever since he made it past the 4th kill (from the rooftop through the window of the opposite building, glass shattering and perhaps a couple of kids don’t have anyone to tuck them into bed anymore). The ring tone haunts him to the door and it pauses for a few seconds before picking up the jingle again, strangely loud in the empty office. Persistent wife he’s got there.
Later on the way down, sharing the elevator with sleepy businessmen working overtime, Yoochun slips the gloves into the open bag of one of them, exits the building and climbs into a waiting cab.
“Airport, please.”
Oh no it’s nothing like that at all.
-----------------------
Traveling first class means he’s already out the revolving doors of yet another identical looking airport, dodging sly faced cab drivers by the time the rest of the other 200 odd passengers clamber for baggage, sliding onto leather upholstery and already talking low into his cell when immigration officers scrutinize passports, the badly took photos that accompany them.
“Long time no see, eh?”
Yoochun doesn’t even bother to meet the eyes of his temporary driver, Jaejoong drumming his hands on the wheel to the sound of half-assed conversation as they wait at a red light.
“A week, Jae, get your sense of time right one of these days. One fucking week and here we are again, I swear-…”
“You’ll quit one of these days? Like hell.” The blond takes corners at angles sharp enough to be illegal, honking at every car that gets in their high speed way and on top of that, mutters rude sounding things about the driver’s mother, all while chain smoking; lighted cigarette dangling loose from lazy fingers as he pushes speed limits one handed. Yoochun rolls the windows down with a sigh that Jaejoong mindlessly passes off as post-flight fatigue.
“That’s a breach of security, y’know. Snipers and all that,” comes the wry, cigarette smoke laced voice from the front seat.
“As if letting you drive me around isn’t akin to putting a gun to my head and pulling the trigger.”
“Driving you around.” Jaejoong shakes his head in mock disbelief, swerves at the last minute to take the exit to the city centre. “I’ve taken down enough people to form my own undead football team and what am I doing? Driving you around.”
“If they stating the obvious was an Olympic sport, I’m sure you’d win the gold. Now shut up and try not to kill us before I get breakfast.”
“Well looks like someone’s not been getting any lately.”
“And your sex life is so amazing? Don’t answer that, I don’t want your sexcapades to be my last memory before I die. With my boss, no less.”
“What, scared you can’t stand the jealousy? Sex-deprived. Heard that Changmin down in tech. and resources is always up for a quick lay, if you’re interested.”
“ Eyes on the road, driver.”
Jaejoong snarls and hits the breaks, car screeching to a complete halt so he can twist round in his seat to glare daggers at Yoochun without crashing into a lamp post.
“Do I look like I still can’t kill you from here in more ways than one? Motherfucking Jung Yunho, just because I forgot his birthday, god, one of these days someone is going to put a bullet in his secret agent chief ass and that someone’s going to be me.”
The car lurches forward suddenly again and Yoochun’s face makes friends with the back of Jaejoong’s seat.
-----------
Yoochun gets to eat his breakfast still alive, overpriced plate of the usual fare eaten in a private room of the hotel’s dining area as Jaejoong goes over the usual details. Shuffling papers, the clink of cutlery against white plates.
“His name is Junsu.”
“Don’t do names, sorry, unlike someone, I don’t usually sleep with my targets before killing them. Damn, this is one heck of a good sausage.”
“His name is Junsu and hey look, surprise! You’re not supposed to kill him. I paid enough to feed a poverty-stricken family for ten years for this shit, of course it’s good.”
“The egg’s pretty runny though, I-…no, what? I don’t do any of that undercover bull either, sorry. Infiltrating? Do it yourself, thank you very much.”
Jaejoong sneaks a bit of bacon off the side of Yoochun’s plate.
“I’m sorry too but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck driving agent-schmuks like you around until Yunho gets over his little drama queen moment. You think I don’t want to do this one?”
Photos exchange hands and Yoochun’s engrossed enough for Jaejoong to sneak another piece, pulling at the rind with his teeth. The former lets out a low whistle and Jaejoong swallows, reaching for another piece.
“Do this? Something tells me you want to fuck him over the tab-mmpgh?!”
The man across the table clasps his hand over Yoochun’s mouth even harder, even going as far as to cut off his air when Yoochun sinks his teeth into the offending hand.
“Does the word Jung Yunho, bugs and eavesdropping even mean anything to you? And biting me isn’t going to do shit, I have the head of the agency as my live in boyfriend. Pain? Hah! I wake up to him every morning. Try that for pain.” he hisses, bent low over half-eaten food and confidential files.
“Mmmpgh!”
“How about secretarial job and filing for the rest of my life? I’m already sleeping on the couch in my own apartment for god’s sake, help a man here.”
He lets go and Yoochun takes a deep breath with as much posture as he can muster, casting Jaejoong dirty looks between gulps of air that flutter over the other’s head harmlessly, Jaejoong too busy mouthing silent I love you baby, he didn’t mean it’s at the CCTV in the corner.
“Paranoid much?”
“Shut up. So, this Junsu person.”
One last reassurance of love at the camera before he turns back to Yoochun.
“Background look familiar? Barcelona, my case back in January. And the next one, Ho Chih Min. Yours. Moscow. Shiwon’s. Manchester. Dublin. Amsterdam. You seeing something here? Every hit since September of last year, he’s been tailing us and we don’t know why, how even. To put it simply, we have nothing on him.”
“So you want me to find out?”
“No, we want you to invite him to tea and have crumpets with him. Of course we want you to find out. Changmin took a good two months to track him down here, he’s been frequenting a few places regularly for the past week so we think it’s gonna be pretty easy.
Unless of course, he turns out to be some whackjob trying to take over the world or something then you’re pretty much screwed. So you taking the job or are you taking the job? If you aren’t, it’s easy enough for one of the newbies. Jonghyun or what’s his face.”
Yoochun fingers the edges of the photo thoughtfully, eyes trailing over aviator shades and half-length trench, city blown hair.
“Well he does have a very nice ass,” he finally says, slipping the print-out into his own folder.
“You’re just agreeing because you’re jealous of Jonghyun getting some credit.”
“…stop eating my bacon you bastard.”
“Smooth change of topic, Yoochun. Very smooth.”
----------
Junsu is drinking a garish-looking cocktail when Yoochun takes the seat next to him, having lingered around the bar for the past half an hour, sidling up to semi-drunk locals and dropping inane questions about the only other foreigner in the smoky club.
Oh, him? No talk, no dance. No fun.
Ah. Bass beats creeping up the soles of his feet, Yoochun sips a lager and arranges sentences in his head.
“And I thought this was a local haunt.”
The man next to him turns his head and Yoochun catches sight of the pink tip of Junsu’s tongue disappearing behind his lips, tasting away sickly sweet remnants from them. Let the newbies have all the fun? Over his dead, rotting body.
“I thought so too.” He shifts his entire body to face Yoochun now, cracks an alcohol induced smile at him. “Here on business?”
Yoochun makes an agreeing noise and Junsu nods into his drink, “Same here, same here,” he mumbles and downs the remains of his colorful concoction. It doesn’t take too much to coax Junsu onto the floor with him, a few tropical sounding, neon beverages and heads bent closer together to hear the sound of small talk over house music gets him to his feet soon enough, Junsu clinging on to Yoochun’s arm as he totters unsteadily.
“I don’t do this much, y’know.” He stumbles and falls laughing into Yoochun’s arms.
“I can tell, love, I can tell. But there’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”
Junsu agrees in the form of a drunken half grind that comes dangerously close to Yoochun’s crotch, tipsy smile and messy limbs strangely fluid.
“Fuck, you’re good for someone who doesn’t do this much,” he breathes and lets his hands slide down to a slim waist, merging the both of them together with one careless arm sneaking back up to fling itself over Junsu’s neck, tipping his head back for an open-mouthed kiss. The other man tastes like alcohol, bittersweet on Yoochun’s tongue, addictions and the faint hint of yet another mission nailed.
Damn, when did we get here?, mumbles Yoochun’s hazed mind as they stumble, still kissing into the foyer of Junsu’s penthouse suite. He’s pretty sure he’d given instructions back to his own hotel when they had crashed, laughing onto the backseat of a late night cab. Junsu pulls the zip of his pants down with his teeth, hooking nimble fingers into the waistband and pulling that off his hips as well.
Home ground…better…oh yes like that.
Junsu sucks cock like it’s an art, lips drawn back slightly the first time he fits his pretty little mouth around Yoochun, eyes sliding shut as he starts to move, friction between sensitive skin and tongue making Yoochun buck with an oath.
“I don’t suppose you don’t do this much too?”
The slighter man hums around Yoochun’s length and it’s somewhere between a teasing yes and no, Junsu pressing marks into Yoochun’s thighs as he urges them further apart. When he finally does pull back, teeth grazing slightly all the way as he does, Yoochun is on the brink of screaming, fisting handfuls of hotel bed sheets with his head thrown back, cords of his neck strained.
“Fuck me,” Junsu tells him, lips urging Yoochun to switch their positions, the latter complying and they’re lying parallel to each other now, needy hands slick with lubricant palming Yoochun’s cock, guiding him to tight heat.
“Fuck, I want you inside me now.”
“No, wait.”
There’s a phone charger plugged in to the socket by the bed, unruly mess of wires that Yoochun yanks apart to knot Junsu’s wrists together, trussing the other man up with a sinister smile that Jaejoong would be proud of.
“Wh-what?” Wires strain and Junsu is wide eyed beneath him, breath hitched. “What’re you trying to do?”
“You’ll see,” doesn’t answer anything but a mark the shape of Yoochun’s lips on Junsu’s collarbone makes up for it nicely, Yoochun moving downwards to tug one nipple erect. The other man keens and he sheathes himself inside Junsu, hooking one leg over his shoulder so he can fuck Junsu hard into the mattress, one hand curled around the other’s rigid sex.
“Please, Yoochun, please god please.”
Cruel, yes, but Yoochun fucks him in slow, even strokes, thumb circling Junsu’s head in lazy circles that’s barely enough.
“I have questions,” he says in between thrusts, Junsu arching wanton into them. “And I think it’d be easier on us both if you’ll answer them.”
Hands tied over his head, Junsu dry swallows and lets Yoochun press his lips to the side of his neck.
“Why are you following us?”
“I d-don’t…don’t, please, he-…”
“Don’t what?” Faster now, hand coming away from Junsu to pull him up by the shoulders so he’s sitting in Yoochun’s lap, head nestled into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t…he…” the bound man exhales against Yoochun’s skin and bites down to stop from crying out when Yoochun slaps him on the ass, taunt skin red and stinging.
“Are you working alone or with an agency? Get up, I want to see you fuck yourself on me.”
Face flushed, Junsu loops his bound hands over Yoochun’s head, fists pressing against his back for support when he brings himself down on Yoochun. Gingerly at first, faster with each uncontrolled sound he tears from Yoochun.
“Well?” A careless flick at his cock, Junsu groaning.
“Two of us, just two of us. Junho, his name is Junho, fuck, touch me.”
Yoochun’s fingers ghost along Junsu, fluttering against heated skin.
“Explain.”
“There’s n-nothing to explain, I do-don’t know oh god Yoochun...”
He comes inside Junsu, shuddering inside him for a moment as his nails dig half-moons into Junsu’s back, soft moan slipping past his lips. Junsu is still hard and wanting against his stomach, still needy, eyes glazed with need.
“Why won’t you know? It’s just you and Junho, isn’t it?”
“But Junho never-,” A sharp intake of breath when Yoochun draws out of him, pushes him down onto the mattress again to meet his eyes.
“He never tells me, I swear, I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Junsu strains against the wires, back lifting off the sheets as he tries to arch into Yoochun’s hand, craving friction.
“I’m not lying, Yoochun please...”
“Of course he’s lying,” comes a bemused voice from somewhere behind him and Yoochun barely has enough time to swear before there’s the unmistakable prick of a needle in his neck, tranquilizer loosening his limbs and forcing his eyes shut. Unseen arms move him away carelessly and Yoochun can feel consciousness slipping away, Junsu laughing in the dark.
“He did a pretty good job with that knot, got a pair of scissors anywhere?”
“Bastard, can you just come here and take up where he left off first? You could’ve-...Junho.”
part 2
“Mr. Lee? Lee Soo Man?”
The bad guys.
The man at the desk looks up and Yoochun imagines he’s exhausted, working overtime far too many nights a week with too many documents, cold cups of coffee as companions.
“Yes?”
The good.
Yoochun pulls the trigger and the man falls forward onto his files, papers, bullet hole a perfect circle of symmetry in the center of his forehead, dead before he can even begin to comprehend just what was really happening. Yoochun presses the gun into the dead man’s grasp, gloves making sure only one set of prints will be found in the morning. Adrenaline forces him helter skelter through the whole process but it’s precise enough, Yoochun biting the inside of his cheek when the dead man’s cell phone rings.
Wife, perhaps? Not that he actually cares, he’s been sleeping easy ever since he made it past the 4th kill (from the rooftop through the window of the opposite building, glass shattering and perhaps a couple of kids don’t have anyone to tuck them into bed anymore). The ring tone haunts him to the door and it pauses for a few seconds before picking up the jingle again, strangely loud in the empty office. Persistent wife he’s got there.
Later on the way down, sharing the elevator with sleepy businessmen working overtime, Yoochun slips the gloves into the open bag of one of them, exits the building and climbs into a waiting cab.
“Airport, please.”
Oh no it’s nothing like that at all.
-----------------------
Traveling first class means he’s already out the revolving doors of yet another identical looking airport, dodging sly faced cab drivers by the time the rest of the other 200 odd passengers clamber for baggage, sliding onto leather upholstery and already talking low into his cell when immigration officers scrutinize passports, the badly took photos that accompany them.
“Long time no see, eh?”
Yoochun doesn’t even bother to meet the eyes of his temporary driver, Jaejoong drumming his hands on the wheel to the sound of half-assed conversation as they wait at a red light.
“A week, Jae, get your sense of time right one of these days. One fucking week and here we are again, I swear-…”
“You’ll quit one of these days? Like hell.” The blond takes corners at angles sharp enough to be illegal, honking at every car that gets in their high speed way and on top of that, mutters rude sounding things about the driver’s mother, all while chain smoking; lighted cigarette dangling loose from lazy fingers as he pushes speed limits one handed. Yoochun rolls the windows down with a sigh that Jaejoong mindlessly passes off as post-flight fatigue.
“That’s a breach of security, y’know. Snipers and all that,” comes the wry, cigarette smoke laced voice from the front seat.
“As if letting you drive me around isn’t akin to putting a gun to my head and pulling the trigger.”
“Driving you around.” Jaejoong shakes his head in mock disbelief, swerves at the last minute to take the exit to the city centre. “I’ve taken down enough people to form my own undead football team and what am I doing? Driving you around.”
“If they stating the obvious was an Olympic sport, I’m sure you’d win the gold. Now shut up and try not to kill us before I get breakfast.”
“Well looks like someone’s not been getting any lately.”
“And your sex life is so amazing? Don’t answer that, I don’t want your sexcapades to be my last memory before I die. With my boss, no less.”
“What, scared you can’t stand the jealousy? Sex-deprived. Heard that Changmin down in tech. and resources is always up for a quick lay, if you’re interested.”
“ Eyes on the road, driver.”
Jaejoong snarls and hits the breaks, car screeching to a complete halt so he can twist round in his seat to glare daggers at Yoochun without crashing into a lamp post.
“Do I look like I still can’t kill you from here in more ways than one? Motherfucking Jung Yunho, just because I forgot his birthday, god, one of these days someone is going to put a bullet in his secret agent chief ass and that someone’s going to be me.”
The car lurches forward suddenly again and Yoochun’s face makes friends with the back of Jaejoong’s seat.
-----------
Yoochun gets to eat his breakfast still alive, overpriced plate of the usual fare eaten in a private room of the hotel’s dining area as Jaejoong goes over the usual details. Shuffling papers, the clink of cutlery against white plates.
“His name is Junsu.”
“Don’t do names, sorry, unlike someone, I don’t usually sleep with my targets before killing them. Damn, this is one heck of a good sausage.”
“His name is Junsu and hey look, surprise! You’re not supposed to kill him. I paid enough to feed a poverty-stricken family for ten years for this shit, of course it’s good.”
“The egg’s pretty runny though, I-…no, what? I don’t do any of that undercover bull either, sorry. Infiltrating? Do it yourself, thank you very much.”
Jaejoong sneaks a bit of bacon off the side of Yoochun’s plate.
“I’m sorry too but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck driving agent-schmuks like you around until Yunho gets over his little drama queen moment. You think I don’t want to do this one?”
Photos exchange hands and Yoochun’s engrossed enough for Jaejoong to sneak another piece, pulling at the rind with his teeth. The former lets out a low whistle and Jaejoong swallows, reaching for another piece.
“Do this? Something tells me you want to fuck him over the tab-mmpgh?!”
The man across the table clasps his hand over Yoochun’s mouth even harder, even going as far as to cut off his air when Yoochun sinks his teeth into the offending hand.
“Does the word Jung Yunho, bugs and eavesdropping even mean anything to you? And biting me isn’t going to do shit, I have the head of the agency as my live in boyfriend. Pain? Hah! I wake up to him every morning. Try that for pain.” he hisses, bent low over half-eaten food and confidential files.
“Mmmpgh!”
“How about secretarial job and filing for the rest of my life? I’m already sleeping on the couch in my own apartment for god’s sake, help a man here.”
He lets go and Yoochun takes a deep breath with as much posture as he can muster, casting Jaejoong dirty looks between gulps of air that flutter over the other’s head harmlessly, Jaejoong too busy mouthing silent I love you baby, he didn’t mean it’s at the CCTV in the corner.
“Paranoid much?”
“Shut up. So, this Junsu person.”
One last reassurance of love at the camera before he turns back to Yoochun.
“Background look familiar? Barcelona, my case back in January. And the next one, Ho Chih Min. Yours. Moscow. Shiwon’s. Manchester. Dublin. Amsterdam. You seeing something here? Every hit since September of last year, he’s been tailing us and we don’t know why, how even. To put it simply, we have nothing on him.”
“So you want me to find out?”
“No, we want you to invite him to tea and have crumpets with him. Of course we want you to find out. Changmin took a good two months to track him down here, he’s been frequenting a few places regularly for the past week so we think it’s gonna be pretty easy.
Unless of course, he turns out to be some whackjob trying to take over the world or something then you’re pretty much screwed. So you taking the job or are you taking the job? If you aren’t, it’s easy enough for one of the newbies. Jonghyun or what’s his face.”
Yoochun fingers the edges of the photo thoughtfully, eyes trailing over aviator shades and half-length trench, city blown hair.
“Well he does have a very nice ass,” he finally says, slipping the print-out into his own folder.
“You’re just agreeing because you’re jealous of Jonghyun getting some credit.”
“…stop eating my bacon you bastard.”
“Smooth change of topic, Yoochun. Very smooth.”
----------
Junsu is drinking a garish-looking cocktail when Yoochun takes the seat next to him, having lingered around the bar for the past half an hour, sidling up to semi-drunk locals and dropping inane questions about the only other foreigner in the smoky club.
Oh, him? No talk, no dance. No fun.
Ah. Bass beats creeping up the soles of his feet, Yoochun sips a lager and arranges sentences in his head.
“And I thought this was a local haunt.”
The man next to him turns his head and Yoochun catches sight of the pink tip of Junsu’s tongue disappearing behind his lips, tasting away sickly sweet remnants from them. Let the newbies have all the fun? Over his dead, rotting body.
“I thought so too.” He shifts his entire body to face Yoochun now, cracks an alcohol induced smile at him. “Here on business?”
Yoochun makes an agreeing noise and Junsu nods into his drink, “Same here, same here,” he mumbles and downs the remains of his colorful concoction. It doesn’t take too much to coax Junsu onto the floor with him, a few tropical sounding, neon beverages and heads bent closer together to hear the sound of small talk over house music gets him to his feet soon enough, Junsu clinging on to Yoochun’s arm as he totters unsteadily.
“I don’t do this much, y’know.” He stumbles and falls laughing into Yoochun’s arms.
“I can tell, love, I can tell. But there’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”
Junsu agrees in the form of a drunken half grind that comes dangerously close to Yoochun’s crotch, tipsy smile and messy limbs strangely fluid.
“Fuck, you’re good for someone who doesn’t do this much,” he breathes and lets his hands slide down to a slim waist, merging the both of them together with one careless arm sneaking back up to fling itself over Junsu’s neck, tipping his head back for an open-mouthed kiss. The other man tastes like alcohol, bittersweet on Yoochun’s tongue, addictions and the faint hint of yet another mission nailed.
Damn, when did we get here?, mumbles Yoochun’s hazed mind as they stumble, still kissing into the foyer of Junsu’s penthouse suite. He’s pretty sure he’d given instructions back to his own hotel when they had crashed, laughing onto the backseat of a late night cab. Junsu pulls the zip of his pants down with his teeth, hooking nimble fingers into the waistband and pulling that off his hips as well.
Home ground…better…oh yes like that.
Junsu sucks cock like it’s an art, lips drawn back slightly the first time he fits his pretty little mouth around Yoochun, eyes sliding shut as he starts to move, friction between sensitive skin and tongue making Yoochun buck with an oath.
“I don’t suppose you don’t do this much too?”
The slighter man hums around Yoochun’s length and it’s somewhere between a teasing yes and no, Junsu pressing marks into Yoochun’s thighs as he urges them further apart. When he finally does pull back, teeth grazing slightly all the way as he does, Yoochun is on the brink of screaming, fisting handfuls of hotel bed sheets with his head thrown back, cords of his neck strained.
“Fuck me,” Junsu tells him, lips urging Yoochun to switch their positions, the latter complying and they’re lying parallel to each other now, needy hands slick with lubricant palming Yoochun’s cock, guiding him to tight heat.
“Fuck, I want you inside me now.”
“No, wait.”
There’s a phone charger plugged in to the socket by the bed, unruly mess of wires that Yoochun yanks apart to knot Junsu’s wrists together, trussing the other man up with a sinister smile that Jaejoong would be proud of.
“Wh-what?” Wires strain and Junsu is wide eyed beneath him, breath hitched. “What’re you trying to do?”
“You’ll see,” doesn’t answer anything but a mark the shape of Yoochun’s lips on Junsu’s collarbone makes up for it nicely, Yoochun moving downwards to tug one nipple erect. The other man keens and he sheathes himself inside Junsu, hooking one leg over his shoulder so he can fuck Junsu hard into the mattress, one hand curled around the other’s rigid sex.
“Please, Yoochun, please god please.”
Cruel, yes, but Yoochun fucks him in slow, even strokes, thumb circling Junsu’s head in lazy circles that’s barely enough.
“I have questions,” he says in between thrusts, Junsu arching wanton into them. “And I think it’d be easier on us both if you’ll answer them.”
Hands tied over his head, Junsu dry swallows and lets Yoochun press his lips to the side of his neck.
“Why are you following us?”
“I d-don’t…don’t, please, he-…”
“Don’t what?” Faster now, hand coming away from Junsu to pull him up by the shoulders so he’s sitting in Yoochun’s lap, head nestled into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t…he…” the bound man exhales against Yoochun’s skin and bites down to stop from crying out when Yoochun slaps him on the ass, taunt skin red and stinging.
“Are you working alone or with an agency? Get up, I want to see you fuck yourself on me.”
Face flushed, Junsu loops his bound hands over Yoochun’s head, fists pressing against his back for support when he brings himself down on Yoochun. Gingerly at first, faster with each uncontrolled sound he tears from Yoochun.
“Well?” A careless flick at his cock, Junsu groaning.
“Two of us, just two of us. Junho, his name is Junho, fuck, touch me.”
Yoochun’s fingers ghost along Junsu, fluttering against heated skin.
“Explain.”
“There’s n-nothing to explain, I do-don’t know oh god Yoochun...”
He comes inside Junsu, shuddering inside him for a moment as his nails dig half-moons into Junsu’s back, soft moan slipping past his lips. Junsu is still hard and wanting against his stomach, still needy, eyes glazed with need.
“Why won’t you know? It’s just you and Junho, isn’t it?”
“But Junho never-,” A sharp intake of breath when Yoochun draws out of him, pushes him down onto the mattress again to meet his eyes.
“He never tells me, I swear, I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Junsu strains against the wires, back lifting off the sheets as he tries to arch into Yoochun’s hand, craving friction.
“I’m not lying, Yoochun please...”
“Of course he’s lying,” comes a bemused voice from somewhere behind him and Yoochun barely has enough time to swear before there’s the unmistakable prick of a needle in his neck, tranquilizer loosening his limbs and forcing his eyes shut. Unseen arms move him away carelessly and Yoochun can feel consciousness slipping away, Junsu laughing in the dark.
“He did a pretty good job with that knot, got a pair of scissors anywhere?”
“Bastard, can you just come here and take up where he left off first? You could’ve-...Junho.”
part 2