facts in fiction (2/3)
Lust. Infatuation. Obsession. Crush.
How many ways can you mean love? Doll it up, dress it down, break it down to the very core. Back to the basics, I suppose. But what is so basic about this when you can’t even find the words right word to begin with? To say I love you would be far too much, and I want you the understatement of the year. So what
“What...” trails a voice softly behind him and Jaejoong stiffens, shoulder slumping back to normal a little when he realizes it’s none other than just a certain Jung Yunho.
“What what? And if you say what what what I’m going to-...”
“Stick a hand down my throat and wrench out my voice box?”
“You read my mind,” comes the all too calm reply and Jaejoong pulls up a half finished article to prod at electronically, waits for Yunho to explain why he has taken to lurking behind people during office hours and reading things over their shoulders while he’s at it.
“Heechul wants to see you.”
“Dear god, what did I do wrong this time?”
“Nothing, apparently, since he wants to see me as well. And stop trying to staple your wrists, it’s not going to do any good.”
“You want what?” Jaejoong, wide eyed and mouth hanging open in the most unbecoming way.
“Come again?” Yunho, thoughts trailing off to marvel at how he could possibly fit his fist and a little something more into Jaejoong’s gaping pie hole.
“ARE THE BOTH OF YOU STONE DEAF? OH I’M SORRY, MAYBE IT’S JUST PERHAPS YOU TWO HAVE PEBBLES FOR BRAINS.” Heechul, uptight and stick up his ass as usual.
Heechul looks up from his tottering pile of papers, invisible fire shooting out of his eyes and Jaejoong swears he can feel the edges of his hair singe. He fingers it aimlessly and Heechul shoots him a look that clearly states what the frick do you think you’re doing, fairy boy?.
“WELL?” he thunders and a few papers slip slide to the floor.
“No, no pebbles for brains and my hearing’s okay the last time I checked.”
“No sir.”
Heechul is unconvinced.
“Just in case you two bozos turn up at the wrong place at the wrong mofo time, let me repeat it in simple terms people like you can understand. There will be an official opening...let me repeat that slowly for you: officiiiiaaaalll opeeeeennniiiiinggg.” He stretches the words slowly, emphasizing and re-pounding it into their brains as Jaejoong and Yunho wince mentally.
“Got it? Good. 7.30 tomorrow at Re-fuse and if both your pancy little asses don’t make it in time to catch all those bimbonic little starlets, let me just tell you that I don’t mind buying a new printer on the account of me chucking my current one at your dimwit heads. Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear. Crystal clear.”
“Yes sir.”
“Scram, the both of you. Honestly, fairy boy, the just mere sight of you decreases my brain cells. I can feel myself getting stupider by the second. And Yunho, where the hell is my sandwich?”
Re-fuse must be a byword for babysitting centre, mouths Yunho and Jaejoong pokes him in the ribs, makes him sit up and feign polite professionalism when the next young air-head trots down the red carpet, sugar daddy on one arm and much too expensive Louis Vuitton clutch in the other. Jaejoong hmphs his disapproval at the freak parade and pulls out a pen despite it.
“And people wonder why I’m gay.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Jaejoong starts jotting something that looks terribly important on his notepad, for all looking like the serious celebrity new reporter he is and Yunho is caught somewhere between admiration and awe at his intense note taking. That is, of course, until he gets his hands on the notepad later.
“I never knew you could write the word gay in so many different ways.”
“Neither did I, until a few moments ago.”
The lights are low inside, bass heavy music thumping up through the floor to the soles of their shoes, vibrating from the metal railings that look pretty enough but do nothing but get in your way, Yunho almost impaling himself on one of them as he tries to saunter to the bar like Jaejoong who amazingly does it without causing any bodily harm to himself.
“Are you sure you want to be drinking on the job?”
“Are you sure this is a job in the first place?” Jaejoong downs his drink on the rocks and smells of vodka, tangy bittersweet that Yunho feels like tasting for himself. “Honestly. Watching preteens on a slut parade? Thanks, but no thanks.”
“And Heechul?”
“Will have to make do with whatever I crap out tomorrow morning.”
Of course Yunho is impressed, more than impressed when Jaejoong starts babbling bright eyed about life and how it’s filled with absolute assholes and such when he reaches his 5th shot of alcohol, still managing to not slur his words and still have a vocabulary that included words like idiosyncrasies. It almost makes him want to try drinking for once just to see if...
“Drink up.” A shot glass is plonked before him, some of the clear liquid sloshing over the sides as Jaejoong wavers a little before sitting back up straight on his bar stool, hand tapping out a slightly off-beat rhythm to the current radiowave crap that’s playing on the hidden speakers.
Yunho smiles and pushes the glass away slowly, thinks of consequences and how he would like to keep his current job intact, “I’d rather not. I really...shouldn’t be drinking on the job.”
“And I shouldn’t be doing this either.” Jaejoong leans over and kisses the surprised man and Yunho suddenly finds out what vodka tastes like, bitter tongue touching his for a moment before drawing away. “But I did. So drink up. Doesn’t matter.”
“You’re drunk, that’s different. And it does matter...a little.”
Jaejoong slides off the stool, feet firm on the ground as he breathes into Yunho’s ear, breath trailing down his neck like how his hand is now, dangerously close to the inside of Yunho’s thigh.
“Oh really?”
Yunho drinks.
They dance to their own music, grinding up against each other to the sound of distant house trance beats and heavy breaths, tangled hands and sloppy kisses from Jaejoong’s part.
Wrong. Mistake. Shouldn’t.
Yunho’s brain feels addled and he can barely stand when Jaejoong holds him steady by the jaw, kisses him full on the lips before trailing his cheekbones with long fingers, barely stand let alone think straight at the moment.
“We shouldn’t...”
“Be fucking colleagues in dark alleyways?” he breathes softly and Yunho swallows, dry.
“Precisely.”
Jaejoong doesn’t pull away and Yunho doesn’t make an effort to push, it’s a mutual thing and Yunho can feel rationality slipping away like the way Jaejoong’s silky midnight colored hair falls through his fingers when he tries to mimic Jaejoong, hands ghosting the nape of the other man’s neck.
“Still think we shouldn’t?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too. Go call a cab, we’re taking this somewhere else.”
It’s an odd mix of limbs, of cheap hotel sheets that ride rough against skin and dim lights that Jaejoong insists they leave on.
“Because sex with the lights on is always more interesting.”
“Ah,” mumbles Yunho against Jaejoong’s neck and vaguely wonders how Jaejoong knows that, one hand straying under his shirt to draw patterns on his skin and tease at the waist of his jeans making him cease caring. His own hands wander on their own account and they brush purposefully against the crotch of Jaejoong’s pants, lingering as Jaejoong groans low, moving to free himself from the too tight, too restricting fabric.
Skin and sweat, pre-cum on his lips, Yunho draws away from Jaejoong’s spread legs and takes the other man into his hand instead, lets his mouth ghost kisses on the pale insides of Jaejoong’s thighs while his fingernails graze sensitive flesh all too slow. “Fuck you,” Jaejoong half swears, the rest lost in a moan that makes Yunho reach for himself, unzipping the denim with one hand while Jaejoong bucks into his other.
He is hard now, so very hard from having Jaejoong at his beck and call, having his name whispered hoarse like a curse when Jaejoong comes warm in his hand, cum bitter on his tongue as he laps at Jaejoong’s still weeping, slowly hardening again sex. “Aren’t you going to return the favor?” he hears himself asks and Jaejoong smiles, feline in the half light before flipping him over non too gently.
“Is it still considered a favor if I’m probably going to enjoy it almost more than you will?”
“Depends.”
Jaejoong fucks like he means it, holding on to Yunho’s hips when he thrusts and Yunho gives as good as he gets, muscles clenching and heartbeat racing as he moans into the sheets, length hard against his stomach as Jaejoong snakes one hand around it, thumb on the head. “Do you...” Yunho strives to hear Jaejoong’s voice, breathless, over the sound of his own harsh breathing.
“Do you consider the favor returned yet?”
Jaejoong moves his thumb lightly, circular motions that makes Yunho cry out and spill himself with a shudder while Jaejoong lies atop him, spent and satiated, taking his time to draw himself out.
“Returned,” comes the muted reply and Jaejoong curls up beside him, sleeps with their backs to each other, legs still tangled.
It hangs low, makes the air feel heavy with the aftermath of sex and unspoken boundaries kept to. Yunho dresses and the other man reclines on the bed, watches him fit buttons into their respective holes with an exaggerated kind of slowness that irks him just a little. Yunho couldn’t really care less, more concentrated on getting to the office later without looking well and thoroughly fucked. Literally and metaphorically, of course.
“Well that was a night well spent,” comes a familiar drawl and Yunho barely looks up from knotting his black tie, checks his appearance in the full length mirror.
“I suppose.”
There is another span of awkward silence as Yunho smoothens his sleeves, brushes invisible dust off his shoulders.
“Heechul,” he says finally and there’s a ruffle of bed sheets, an audible sigh that he’s sure he’s meant to hear.
“Is this one of those games where you say one word and I’m supposed to say the first one that comes to mind?”
There’s the sound of bare feet touching the floor and a head is laid on Yunho’s shoulder, Yunho angling his body a little so he doesn’t have to shake it off when he adjusts his tie. “Heechul,” he says again and the weight is lifted, arms circling his waist instead. “It’s Rella, I told you that.” Yunho does shake off the arms now and the androgynous looking man beside him doesn’t step away to let him move, half pins him to the cool glass.
“It doesn’t change anything even if you go by another name, just so you know,” Yunho’s words fog the glass a little and Heechul behind him flips him over, head connecting hard enough with the mirror to leave parts of it confused. Spider webs with them, distorted, between the cracks.
“So what if I want to believe that? Listen, Jung. Just because I got your sorry ass in doesn’t mean I can’t kick it out again. Do you want that?”
Yunho has the sense to shake his head slowly and Heechul parts with a chaste kiss.
“Don’t you dare charge the damage to the company account.”
part 3
How many ways can you mean love? Doll it up, dress it down, break it down to the very core. Back to the basics, I suppose. But what is so basic about this when you can’t even find the words right word to begin with? To say I love you would be far too much, and I want you the understatement of the year. So what
“What...” trails a voice softly behind him and Jaejoong stiffens, shoulder slumping back to normal a little when he realizes it’s none other than just a certain Jung Yunho.
“What what? And if you say what what what I’m going to-...”
“Stick a hand down my throat and wrench out my voice box?”
“You read my mind,” comes the all too calm reply and Jaejoong pulls up a half finished article to prod at electronically, waits for Yunho to explain why he has taken to lurking behind people during office hours and reading things over their shoulders while he’s at it.
“Heechul wants to see you.”
“Dear god, what did I do wrong this time?”
“Nothing, apparently, since he wants to see me as well. And stop trying to staple your wrists, it’s not going to do any good.”
“You want what?” Jaejoong, wide eyed and mouth hanging open in the most unbecoming way.
“Come again?” Yunho, thoughts trailing off to marvel at how he could possibly fit his fist and a little something more into Jaejoong’s gaping pie hole.
“ARE THE BOTH OF YOU STONE DEAF? OH I’M SORRY, MAYBE IT’S JUST PERHAPS YOU TWO HAVE PEBBLES FOR BRAINS.” Heechul, uptight and stick up his ass as usual.
Heechul looks up from his tottering pile of papers, invisible fire shooting out of his eyes and Jaejoong swears he can feel the edges of his hair singe. He fingers it aimlessly and Heechul shoots him a look that clearly states what the frick do you think you’re doing, fairy boy?.
“WELL?” he thunders and a few papers slip slide to the floor.
“No, no pebbles for brains and my hearing’s okay the last time I checked.”
“No sir.”
Heechul is unconvinced.
“Just in case you two bozos turn up at the wrong place at the wrong mofo time, let me repeat it in simple terms people like you can understand. There will be an official opening...let me repeat that slowly for you: officiiiiaaaalll opeeeeennniiiiinggg.” He stretches the words slowly, emphasizing and re-pounding it into their brains as Jaejoong and Yunho wince mentally.
“Got it? Good. 7.30 tomorrow at Re-fuse and if both your pancy little asses don’t make it in time to catch all those bimbonic little starlets, let me just tell you that I don’t mind buying a new printer on the account of me chucking my current one at your dimwit heads. Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear. Crystal clear.”
“Yes sir.”
“Scram, the both of you. Honestly, fairy boy, the just mere sight of you decreases my brain cells. I can feel myself getting stupider by the second. And Yunho, where the hell is my sandwich?”
Re-fuse must be a byword for babysitting centre, mouths Yunho and Jaejoong pokes him in the ribs, makes him sit up and feign polite professionalism when the next young air-head trots down the red carpet, sugar daddy on one arm and much too expensive Louis Vuitton clutch in the other. Jaejoong hmphs his disapproval at the freak parade and pulls out a pen despite it.
“And people wonder why I’m gay.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Jaejoong starts jotting something that looks terribly important on his notepad, for all looking like the serious celebrity new reporter he is and Yunho is caught somewhere between admiration and awe at his intense note taking. That is, of course, until he gets his hands on the notepad later.
“I never knew you could write the word gay in so many different ways.”
“Neither did I, until a few moments ago.”
The lights are low inside, bass heavy music thumping up through the floor to the soles of their shoes, vibrating from the metal railings that look pretty enough but do nothing but get in your way, Yunho almost impaling himself on one of them as he tries to saunter to the bar like Jaejoong who amazingly does it without causing any bodily harm to himself.
“Are you sure you want to be drinking on the job?”
“Are you sure this is a job in the first place?” Jaejoong downs his drink on the rocks and smells of vodka, tangy bittersweet that Yunho feels like tasting for himself. “Honestly. Watching preteens on a slut parade? Thanks, but no thanks.”
“And Heechul?”
“Will have to make do with whatever I crap out tomorrow morning.”
Of course Yunho is impressed, more than impressed when Jaejoong starts babbling bright eyed about life and how it’s filled with absolute assholes and such when he reaches his 5th shot of alcohol, still managing to not slur his words and still have a vocabulary that included words like idiosyncrasies. It almost makes him want to try drinking for once just to see if...
“Drink up.” A shot glass is plonked before him, some of the clear liquid sloshing over the sides as Jaejoong wavers a little before sitting back up straight on his bar stool, hand tapping out a slightly off-beat rhythm to the current radiowave crap that’s playing on the hidden speakers.
Yunho smiles and pushes the glass away slowly, thinks of consequences and how he would like to keep his current job intact, “I’d rather not. I really...shouldn’t be drinking on the job.”
“And I shouldn’t be doing this either.” Jaejoong leans over and kisses the surprised man and Yunho suddenly finds out what vodka tastes like, bitter tongue touching his for a moment before drawing away. “But I did. So drink up. Doesn’t matter.”
“You’re drunk, that’s different. And it does matter...a little.”
Jaejoong slides off the stool, feet firm on the ground as he breathes into Yunho’s ear, breath trailing down his neck like how his hand is now, dangerously close to the inside of Yunho’s thigh.
“Oh really?”
Yunho drinks.
They dance to their own music, grinding up against each other to the sound of distant house trance beats and heavy breaths, tangled hands and sloppy kisses from Jaejoong’s part.
Wrong. Mistake. Shouldn’t.
Yunho’s brain feels addled and he can barely stand when Jaejoong holds him steady by the jaw, kisses him full on the lips before trailing his cheekbones with long fingers, barely stand let alone think straight at the moment.
“We shouldn’t...”
“Be fucking colleagues in dark alleyways?” he breathes softly and Yunho swallows, dry.
“Precisely.”
Jaejoong doesn’t pull away and Yunho doesn’t make an effort to push, it’s a mutual thing and Yunho can feel rationality slipping away like the way Jaejoong’s silky midnight colored hair falls through his fingers when he tries to mimic Jaejoong, hands ghosting the nape of the other man’s neck.
“Still think we shouldn’t?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too. Go call a cab, we’re taking this somewhere else.”
It’s an odd mix of limbs, of cheap hotel sheets that ride rough against skin and dim lights that Jaejoong insists they leave on.
“Because sex with the lights on is always more interesting.”
“Ah,” mumbles Yunho against Jaejoong’s neck and vaguely wonders how Jaejoong knows that, one hand straying under his shirt to draw patterns on his skin and tease at the waist of his jeans making him cease caring. His own hands wander on their own account and they brush purposefully against the crotch of Jaejoong’s pants, lingering as Jaejoong groans low, moving to free himself from the too tight, too restricting fabric.
Skin and sweat, pre-cum on his lips, Yunho draws away from Jaejoong’s spread legs and takes the other man into his hand instead, lets his mouth ghost kisses on the pale insides of Jaejoong’s thighs while his fingernails graze sensitive flesh all too slow. “Fuck you,” Jaejoong half swears, the rest lost in a moan that makes Yunho reach for himself, unzipping the denim with one hand while Jaejoong bucks into his other.
He is hard now, so very hard from having Jaejoong at his beck and call, having his name whispered hoarse like a curse when Jaejoong comes warm in his hand, cum bitter on his tongue as he laps at Jaejoong’s still weeping, slowly hardening again sex. “Aren’t you going to return the favor?” he hears himself asks and Jaejoong smiles, feline in the half light before flipping him over non too gently.
“Is it still considered a favor if I’m probably going to enjoy it almost more than you will?”
“Depends.”
Jaejoong fucks like he means it, holding on to Yunho’s hips when he thrusts and Yunho gives as good as he gets, muscles clenching and heartbeat racing as he moans into the sheets, length hard against his stomach as Jaejoong snakes one hand around it, thumb on the head. “Do you...” Yunho strives to hear Jaejoong’s voice, breathless, over the sound of his own harsh breathing.
“Do you consider the favor returned yet?”
Jaejoong moves his thumb lightly, circular motions that makes Yunho cry out and spill himself with a shudder while Jaejoong lies atop him, spent and satiated, taking his time to draw himself out.
“Returned,” comes the muted reply and Jaejoong curls up beside him, sleeps with their backs to each other, legs still tangled.
It hangs low, makes the air feel heavy with the aftermath of sex and unspoken boundaries kept to. Yunho dresses and the other man reclines on the bed, watches him fit buttons into their respective holes with an exaggerated kind of slowness that irks him just a little. Yunho couldn’t really care less, more concentrated on getting to the office later without looking well and thoroughly fucked. Literally and metaphorically, of course.
“Well that was a night well spent,” comes a familiar drawl and Yunho barely looks up from knotting his black tie, checks his appearance in the full length mirror.
“I suppose.”
There is another span of awkward silence as Yunho smoothens his sleeves, brushes invisible dust off his shoulders.
“Heechul,” he says finally and there’s a ruffle of bed sheets, an audible sigh that he’s sure he’s meant to hear.
“Is this one of those games where you say one word and I’m supposed to say the first one that comes to mind?”
There’s the sound of bare feet touching the floor and a head is laid on Yunho’s shoulder, Yunho angling his body a little so he doesn’t have to shake it off when he adjusts his tie. “Heechul,” he says again and the weight is lifted, arms circling his waist instead. “It’s Rella, I told you that.” Yunho does shake off the arms now and the androgynous looking man beside him doesn’t step away to let him move, half pins him to the cool glass.
“It doesn’t change anything even if you go by another name, just so you know,” Yunho’s words fog the glass a little and Heechul behind him flips him over, head connecting hard enough with the mirror to leave parts of it confused. Spider webs with them, distorted, between the cracks.
“So what if I want to believe that? Listen, Jung. Just because I got your sorry ass in doesn’t mean I can’t kick it out again. Do you want that?”
Yunho has the sense to shake his head slowly and Heechul parts with a chaste kiss.
“Don’t you dare charge the damage to the company account.”
part 3