Host with the Most 1/?
Title: Host with the Most 1/?
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yoochun, (others/Yoochun)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Man, if only I owned a host club ... these boys would make me so much money. But I don't. So I can't. And I'm still poor.
Summary: Yoochun works at a "karaoke" bar called The Music Box. He needs the money, as most hosts do. He's a seasoned veteran, knows how to play the game, and never lets himself get too close to his clients.
A/N: I am not allowed to start new fics. In my defense, this was supposed to be an angsty one-shot.
Part 1: The Drinking Game
Cigarette smoke clung to the ceiling, permeated his nose, and coated his lungs. He washed the taste away with half a bottle of soju and kept it from choking him by pressing his face against the warm neck of his client, who chuckled.
“Are you always this clingy, Micky,” he whispered.
Yoochun smiled, tilting his head up enough to meet his eyes. “You smell good.” Like an old ashtray in a dirty old woman’s bedroom. Yoochun smoked, but this man had not stopped smoking since he got there.
The man laughed. Sehun? Seunghyun? God, Yoochun did not remember. That was bad. And then in his moment of inattention, lips touched his. A brief brush, and then a deeper press.
Yoochun hated kissing his clients.
A hand slid up his thigh and pressed close to his dick. Better than a kiss, and Yoochun used that as an excuse to break from the kiss, lean back and whimper, just a little, give Se-Something better access to something that did not mean as much as a kiss.
The man chuckled. “So soon, Micky?”
Yoochun smiled. “You came early. Always ... always ... like first client.” He moaned and canted his hips up into the firm press of a palm on his crotch.
“And I am your first customer,” the man filled in. “One day I’ll be your only customer.”
“God, yes.”
The man leaned forward again, and this time Yoochun tilted his head back and shut his eyes and the lips touched his neck instead. The man had his fly down and a hand sneaking up his shirt when they both felt a vibration on his leg. Yoochun whimpered when the hand moved.
The man grinned at him. “You want contact on your cock, baby?” He shifted, just enough to bend a leg at his knee and pulled Yoochun over to him with his tie. Yoochun ended up on his knees, mostly, with the man’s leg between his own. He knew what the man expected, but god, it was a little embarrassing.
He had the right to refuse. If he wanted to lose out on tips. Instead, he eagerly whined and shuffled forward enough to rub himself against the man’s thigh. His hands went around the man’s neck, lips to his ear and he moaned softly.
The man answered his phone. “Joongie-ah? Where are you? ... Ah, you will not believe it. Just let me give you the address. ... I’m in room four.”
Yoochun fought back a frustrated sigh. He hated serving two people at once. It was hard to give them the attention they wanted. Usually fewer tips even if logic said that two people meant more money.
“You don’t mind if my friend joins us, do you, Micky?” the man asked after he hung up the phone.
Yoochun moaned, rubbed up against him more firmly. “He won’t make me move, right?”
The man chuckled, tangled a hand in Yoochun’s hair and yanked his head back. “No, but I might want you on your knees before then.”
Yoochun gasped and nodded, wincing at the firm grip on his hair. Still much better than a kiss. He sank to the floor, between the coffee table and the couch, pressed uncomfortably tight up against the man’s knees. The grip on his hair loosened.
“Now?” Yoochun asked, trying to stall.
The man smirked. “See if you can get me off before Jaejoong-ah gets here.”
Yoochun smirked back, accepting the challenge, because it meant he did not have to talk to him. The man unzipped his slacks, and Yoochun took a condom from his pocket.
“You don’t need that, baby,” the man said with a pout.
Yoochun smiled up at him as he ripped it open. “Company policy,” he said. “I could lose my job, and then you’d never get to see me again.”
“Well, I don’t want that,” he murmured and trailed a finger down Yoochun’s jaw.
Yoochun gripped the man’s cock, luckily it was not too big, and he slid the condom on with his hand. He knew how to do it with his mouth, but this man was not important enough for Yoochun to give away all his tricks. Just a few.
He started tentatively. A few licks, a few pumps of his hands. He knew most men’s preferences for a blowjob almost as soon as he met them, and this man, Sehun or Seunghyun or Whatever, was a type who liked inexperienced eager slut.
He licked at the head, which felt weird with the condom, but hey, company policy said whatever Yoochun preferred, and he did not know this man well enough to suck on his cock without protection.
The man loosened his hair, let the curls wave down to his shoulders. “Come on, pretty. Suck on me.”
Yoochun glanced up, pulled away for a moment, and licked his lips. “Sorry. I don’t ... I don’t usually do this.” What a lie.
The man smiled. “And why am I so special?”
“I like you.”
The man laughed. “I like you, too, Micky. Suck on me.”
Yoochun put his mouth back to work. It was easy to give this man exactly what he expected. It was easy to whimper and pretend that the man’s dick was too big for his throat. It was easy to gag a few times, and it was easy to shiver when the man pulled on his hair, lifted his hips, and fucked up into his mouth. A type, the type who liked inexperience and domination.
The man was coming in less than ten minutes. Yoochun felt him fill up the condom, felt the harsh pull on his hair, ignored the whimpered praises from the man’s mouth. He pulled away and looked up at the man, eyes half shut and dazed. He licked his lower lip and the man moaned, made to lean forward probably to kiss him, but Yoochun had no desire for those lips to touch his again, and he pressed a kiss to the tip of his dick.
“Want your mouth and lips on my skin, baby,” he said, gasping for breath.
Yoochun moaned and pumped his hand. The condom slipped and Yoochun quickly removed it. He tied the end and then used a soft towel, on the coffee table for this purpose, to clean up the man’s dick.
“Seriously, Hyunjoong,” a voice said at the door.
Yoochun glanced over, and his eyes widened, and he immediately flushed. The embarrassment because he’d gotten the man’s name so wrong paled in comparison to the embarrassment of knowing exactly who this man’s friend JaeJae was.
Jaejoong. Kim Jaejoong. Lead singer of Hero. Singer, entertainer, rock star. Yoochun owned every single album. Every single one. Even all the repackaged and different versions.
Yoochun looked away and wished the floor would swallow him up.
“You are such an ass,” Jaejoong said. “Do you have any idea how bad it will be if someone sees me coming into a place like this?”
“They’re discrete. It’s a karaoke bar.”
Jaejoong snorted. “Most karaoke places don’t have pretty boys on their knees sucking on dicks.”
“The good ones do.”
“Fuck you. God.” Jaejoong fell into the couch. “You are such an asshole.”
“He just got me off in less than ten minutes. You want a turn?”
Yoochun flushed and kept his face turned away.
Kim fucking Jaejoong.
“He does not seem eager to suck on me.”
Yoochun fought the urge to whimper and bury his face in Hyunjoong’s leg.
Hyunjoong chuckled. “That’s why he’s perfect. Eager, but not. I swear he’s the newest host they have here.”
“If he’s a host, then let him be a host and stop harassing him.”
“I’m not harassing you, am I?” the man asked and touched Yoochun’s face.
Yoochun swallowed and shook his head. “N-no.”
Jaejoong scoffed. “You’re a bitch, Hyunjoong.”
Another hand gripped his elbow, and it took a moment for Yoochun to realize that it was Jaejoong’s hand. Kim fucking Jaejoong.
Yoochun had no choice but to follow the pull up to the couch, and he ended up between the two friends, facing Jaejoong. Almost too close to Jaejoong’s perfect, pretty face. Pale skin, almost no makeup except black eyeliner, a bit of shadow. And his lips were pink. Maybe gloss. Maybe not.
He was wearing ripped up blue jeans and a black jumper, probably a tanktop on underneath it, and boots. High boots up his calf muscles. His hair was black now, and the piercings in his ears twinkled in the dim light of the room. He smelled so good, and it took all of Yoochun’s host sensibilities not to stare in awe, drool, and permanently embed his face against Jaejoong’s neck.
“Hi,” Jaejoong whispered.
Yoochun swallowed. “H-hi.”
Jaejoong smiled. “You know who I am?”
Yoochun cleared his throat. “Y-yeah. I ... your biggest fan.”
Jaejoong smiled and Yoochun’s heart thumped. “Light me a cigarette.”
Yoochun nodded and leaned over the coffee table. They had four different packs of cigarettes. He did not need to ask Jaejoong which kind he liked. He took a cigarette from the pack, just using his lips. He lit it, hand shaking too much and inhaled a drag. He held it in his lungs for a moment, and then removed the cigarette and handed it to Jaejoong, before releasing the smoke up into the air.
Jaejoong lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I want something from your lips after they’ve been wrapped around this asshole’s cock?”
Hyunjoong protested and tried to smack Jaejoong.
“Used a condom,” Yoochun muttered.
Jaejoong smirked. “Good.” He took the cigarette and leaned back on the couch. “Hyunjoong, put your dick away, fuck.”
Yoochun smiled and fought the urge to laugh.
“You have a gorgeous smile,” Jaejoong said and touched his lips, and Yoochun flushed and looked away.
A famous rockstar destroyed his aloof host persona. Yoochun was not surprised. He’d been in love with Kim Jaejoong for years.
“What’s your name?”
“M-Micky.”
Jaejoong smiled. “Micky. Cute.”
Hyunjoong grumbled about something, and then Jaejoong asked for a bottle of rum, and Yoochun had to get up to make a quick call to the manager because Jaejoong refused to let him go get it.
When Jinki slipped into the room with a few bottles for Jaejoong to choose from, his eyes went wide because Jinki was a Hero fanboy too. And then he bowed, and asked Jaejoong if he wanted more than one host, and Jaejoong shrugged and said, “If only to keep Hyunjoong occupied. I have my favorite,” and he put his hand on Yoochun’s knee and Yoochun felt like dying again.
Kyujong came into the room and sat with Hyunjoong.
Jaejoong stayed on the couch, with Yoochun next to him, and drank way too much alcohol, and Yoochun had no choice but to match him, shot for shot. The night slipped away, and even if Jaejoong said very little to him, Yoochun stayed next to him, curled against his side while Jaejoong used his phone, updated his public twitter account, and then LINE. His head was swimming, his hands shaking, body quivering.
Jaejoong had unbuttoned his shirt, and his hand roved around Yoochun’s chest when he wasn’t doing things on his cell phone.
The main noise was Hyunjoong, getting drunker and drunker, getting more aggressive with Kyujong, who was really close to being naked.
“That’s enough,” Jaejoong suddenly said and stood up, and Yoochun almost fell off the couch from the suddenness of it. He’d been half asleep, almost in Jaejoong’s lap, with Jaejoong’s hand rubbing up and down his back. “Hyunnie, we’re leaving.”
Hyunjoong protested, and it took a few minutes for Jaejoong to manhandle him into the hallway. With a smile, he said to Yoochun, “Don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”
Yoochun nodded, and the door shut behind them, and Yoochun moaned and lay facedown on the couch.
He heard Kyujong laughing at him. “Dream come true, eh, Yoochunnie?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Money, money, money, money.”
Yoochun rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling, one side of his shirt fell open. His head was swimming. God, he’d had too much to drink.
A moment later, the door opened, and Kim Jaejoong walked back in, completely steady, like he hadn’t drank half a bottle of liquor by himself. “Sorry about that,” he said and went to Kyujong, giving him a wad of cash. “Hyunjoong gets really violent when he’s drunk, and as his best friend, I have to keep him from beating people up. You can leave and go do whatever it is that you do after you’re done with a client.”
Kyujong bowed his way out, and then Jaejoong moved to the couch.
“Sit up,” he demanded.
Yoochun did, having to grab the back of the couch to get himself up. He moaned and shut his eyes.
“Drunk?” Jaejoong asked and sat on the couch.
Yoochun moaned and let Jaejoong pull him back down, his head in Jaejoong’s lap. “A bit.”
Jaejoong chuckled and ran his hands through Yoochun’s hair. “How many men a night tell you that you’re beautiful?”
Yoochun smiled up at him. “I lose count.”
Jaejoong laughed. He picked up the cigarettes from the table, and lit one for himself and then for Yoochun.
Yoochun smiled around it and blew smoke up toward the ceiling.
Jaejoong pulled his phone out again, cigarette dangling from his lips, but he kept one hand on Yoochun’s chest, under his shirt, fingertips against his skin, brushing over his nipple.
“Why do you work here?” Jaejoong asked him after a long silence.
Yoochun looked up at him and smiled. He waved toward the table where there were crumpled bills among the empty bottles of soju and empty packs of cigarettes. “The money.”
“Do you like it?”
Yoochun shrugged. Normally when he was asked that, he made up something about how the men made it worth it, and how he loved his clients, and some other forms of bullshit. But Yoochun was good at figuring out types, and Jaejoong was not the type to swallow fake flattery. The man spent most of his life surrounded by fake flattery.
“Some nights it’s okay,” Yoochun finally said and turned his head to bury his face against Jaejoong’s stomach.
Jaejoong chuckled. “So what kind of host are you, Micky?”
“Meaning what?”
“Are you the kind that will do anything for a buck, or do you actually tell your clients no sometimes?”
“Ask me what you want and find out,” Yoochun said and smiled up at him.
Jaejoong smiled. “Sit up. Let’s play a game.”
Yoochun pouted. “But I’m comfortable.”
“And I want to play a game and I’m your client so you should do as I say.”
Yoochun rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.” He sat up, head still swimming a bit. “What game?”
Jaejoong leaned over to the coffee table and poured two shots of liquor. “I like to call it, ‘drink so much that my publicist has to actually work in the morning’.”
Yoochun laughed.
Jaejoong handed him the glass and said, “To pretty boys.”
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “To pretty rock stars.”
Jaejoong laughed.
They traded shots, back and forth, until Jaejoong was no longer pouring the alcohol into a glass but right into Yoochun’s mouth. He missed a lot and chased the drink down Yoochun’s neck with his mouth, in the hollows of his collarbones. Yoochun was straddling his knees, and he did not know how he got there.
“Should probably stop,” Jaejoong said and took a heavy swallow of rum. His other hand pulled Yoochun close by his neck, and their mouths joined and Jaejoong moaned and liquor went into both their mouths, down their chins, and Yoochun rocked on Jaejoong’s thighs with a moan. The bottle fell to the ground, and Jaejoong’s hands went around his waist and his shirt fell off and then he was pressed to the couch with Jaejoong over him, pants undone, a hand down them, and Yoochun moaned, head spinning too much for this.
“Too drunk,” Jaejoong gasped.
Yoochun nodded. Or thought he did. The room moved.
“Good game. Such a fun game.”
Yoochun laughed.
They kissed until Jinki came into the room, and told them it was three in the morning and the club was closing, and Jaejoong huffed in frustration. Unsteady on his feet, he stood up and emptied his wallet on the table. At the last moment, he grabbed a single bill and put it back.
“Taxi.”
Yoochun smiled.
“Do you need help home?” Jinki asked.
Jaejoong waved at him and almost fell over. “N-nope. I’m fine.” He staggered into the doorframe.
Jinki looked over at Yoochun with concern on his face. “You okay, Micky?”
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “So good.”
“He’ss’good,” Jaejoong slurred.
Jinki hooked his arm around Jaejoong’s waist and hefted him out the door.
Yoochun lay on the couch, body thrumming and head swimming, and his lips were on fire. In the morning, he’d blame the alcohol, but god, Jaejoong’s lips were so very delicious.
---
Pictures of Jinki helping Jaejoong into a cab had surfaced the next day, and Yoochun read article after article and a whole lot of netizen comments about how irresponsible he was. And then later that same day, a statement was released by Kim Jaejoong’s company. His publicist.
Kim Jaejoong enjoys being out at night and partying with his friends. He went out last night to karaoke and had a few drinks--
Yoochun snorted. “More like a few bottles,” he muttered. His head was still pounding.
But Kim Jaejoong is responsible and took a cab home, instead of trying to drive himself. He did not have any performances or interviews today, and he is at his home relaxing and preparing for his upcoming promotions. The man in the photo with him is, Lee Jinki, the manager of the karaoke club, The Music Box.
That night, Jinki handed him a note that said, “A successful game! Well-played! Thanks for everything!” No name, nothing else, but no doubt that it was from Jaejoong.
Yoochun put it on his mirror.
He filed his night with Jaejoong under “greatest moments of my life” and then his life moved on. He spent too many hours with his hand on his cock, stroking off to Jaejoong, but that was not any different than a normal week. Now he just had the feel of his hands and his lips to spur him on.
Part 2: The Getting-To-Know-You Game
.
Pairing: Jaejoong/Yoochun, (others/Yoochun)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Man, if only I owned a host club ... these boys would make me so much money. But I don't. So I can't. And I'm still poor.
Summary: Yoochun works at a "karaoke" bar called The Music Box. He needs the money, as most hosts do. He's a seasoned veteran, knows how to play the game, and never lets himself get too close to his clients.
A/N: I am not allowed to start new fics. In my defense, this was supposed to be an angsty one-shot.
Part 1: The Drinking Game
Cigarette smoke clung to the ceiling, permeated his nose, and coated his lungs. He washed the taste away with half a bottle of soju and kept it from choking him by pressing his face against the warm neck of his client, who chuckled.
“Are you always this clingy, Micky,” he whispered.
Yoochun smiled, tilting his head up enough to meet his eyes. “You smell good.” Like an old ashtray in a dirty old woman’s bedroom. Yoochun smoked, but this man had not stopped smoking since he got there.
The man laughed. Sehun? Seunghyun? God, Yoochun did not remember. That was bad. And then in his moment of inattention, lips touched his. A brief brush, and then a deeper press.
Yoochun hated kissing his clients.
A hand slid up his thigh and pressed close to his dick. Better than a kiss, and Yoochun used that as an excuse to break from the kiss, lean back and whimper, just a little, give Se-Something better access to something that did not mean as much as a kiss.
The man chuckled. “So soon, Micky?”
Yoochun smiled. “You came early. Always ... always ... like first client.” He moaned and canted his hips up into the firm press of a palm on his crotch.
“And I am your first customer,” the man filled in. “One day I’ll be your only customer.”
“God, yes.”
The man leaned forward again, and this time Yoochun tilted his head back and shut his eyes and the lips touched his neck instead. The man had his fly down and a hand sneaking up his shirt when they both felt a vibration on his leg. Yoochun whimpered when the hand moved.
The man grinned at him. “You want contact on your cock, baby?” He shifted, just enough to bend a leg at his knee and pulled Yoochun over to him with his tie. Yoochun ended up on his knees, mostly, with the man’s leg between his own. He knew what the man expected, but god, it was a little embarrassing.
He had the right to refuse. If he wanted to lose out on tips. Instead, he eagerly whined and shuffled forward enough to rub himself against the man’s thigh. His hands went around the man’s neck, lips to his ear and he moaned softly.
The man answered his phone. “Joongie-ah? Where are you? ... Ah, you will not believe it. Just let me give you the address. ... I’m in room four.”
Yoochun fought back a frustrated sigh. He hated serving two people at once. It was hard to give them the attention they wanted. Usually fewer tips even if logic said that two people meant more money.
“You don’t mind if my friend joins us, do you, Micky?” the man asked after he hung up the phone.
Yoochun moaned, rubbed up against him more firmly. “He won’t make me move, right?”
The man chuckled, tangled a hand in Yoochun’s hair and yanked his head back. “No, but I might want you on your knees before then.”
Yoochun gasped and nodded, wincing at the firm grip on his hair. Still much better than a kiss. He sank to the floor, between the coffee table and the couch, pressed uncomfortably tight up against the man’s knees. The grip on his hair loosened.
“Now?” Yoochun asked, trying to stall.
The man smirked. “See if you can get me off before Jaejoong-ah gets here.”
Yoochun smirked back, accepting the challenge, because it meant he did not have to talk to him. The man unzipped his slacks, and Yoochun took a condom from his pocket.
“You don’t need that, baby,” the man said with a pout.
Yoochun smiled up at him as he ripped it open. “Company policy,” he said. “I could lose my job, and then you’d never get to see me again.”
“Well, I don’t want that,” he murmured and trailed a finger down Yoochun’s jaw.
Yoochun gripped the man’s cock, luckily it was not too big, and he slid the condom on with his hand. He knew how to do it with his mouth, but this man was not important enough for Yoochun to give away all his tricks. Just a few.
He started tentatively. A few licks, a few pumps of his hands. He knew most men’s preferences for a blowjob almost as soon as he met them, and this man, Sehun or Seunghyun or Whatever, was a type who liked inexperienced eager slut.
He licked at the head, which felt weird with the condom, but hey, company policy said whatever Yoochun preferred, and he did not know this man well enough to suck on his cock without protection.
The man loosened his hair, let the curls wave down to his shoulders. “Come on, pretty. Suck on me.”
Yoochun glanced up, pulled away for a moment, and licked his lips. “Sorry. I don’t ... I don’t usually do this.” What a lie.
The man smiled. “And why am I so special?”
“I like you.”
The man laughed. “I like you, too, Micky. Suck on me.”
Yoochun put his mouth back to work. It was easy to give this man exactly what he expected. It was easy to whimper and pretend that the man’s dick was too big for his throat. It was easy to gag a few times, and it was easy to shiver when the man pulled on his hair, lifted his hips, and fucked up into his mouth. A type, the type who liked inexperience and domination.
The man was coming in less than ten minutes. Yoochun felt him fill up the condom, felt the harsh pull on his hair, ignored the whimpered praises from the man’s mouth. He pulled away and looked up at the man, eyes half shut and dazed. He licked his lower lip and the man moaned, made to lean forward probably to kiss him, but Yoochun had no desire for those lips to touch his again, and he pressed a kiss to the tip of his dick.
“Want your mouth and lips on my skin, baby,” he said, gasping for breath.
Yoochun moaned and pumped his hand. The condom slipped and Yoochun quickly removed it. He tied the end and then used a soft towel, on the coffee table for this purpose, to clean up the man’s dick.
“Seriously, Hyunjoong,” a voice said at the door.
Yoochun glanced over, and his eyes widened, and he immediately flushed. The embarrassment because he’d gotten the man’s name so wrong paled in comparison to the embarrassment of knowing exactly who this man’s friend JaeJae was.
Jaejoong. Kim Jaejoong. Lead singer of Hero. Singer, entertainer, rock star. Yoochun owned every single album. Every single one. Even all the repackaged and different versions.
Yoochun looked away and wished the floor would swallow him up.
“You are such an ass,” Jaejoong said. “Do you have any idea how bad it will be if someone sees me coming into a place like this?”
“They’re discrete. It’s a karaoke bar.”
Jaejoong snorted. “Most karaoke places don’t have pretty boys on their knees sucking on dicks.”
“The good ones do.”
“Fuck you. God.” Jaejoong fell into the couch. “You are such an asshole.”
“He just got me off in less than ten minutes. You want a turn?”
Yoochun flushed and kept his face turned away.
Kim fucking Jaejoong.
“He does not seem eager to suck on me.”
Yoochun fought the urge to whimper and bury his face in Hyunjoong’s leg.
Hyunjoong chuckled. “That’s why he’s perfect. Eager, but not. I swear he’s the newest host they have here.”
“If he’s a host, then let him be a host and stop harassing him.”
“I’m not harassing you, am I?” the man asked and touched Yoochun’s face.
Yoochun swallowed and shook his head. “N-no.”
Jaejoong scoffed. “You’re a bitch, Hyunjoong.”
Another hand gripped his elbow, and it took a moment for Yoochun to realize that it was Jaejoong’s hand. Kim fucking Jaejoong.
Yoochun had no choice but to follow the pull up to the couch, and he ended up between the two friends, facing Jaejoong. Almost too close to Jaejoong’s perfect, pretty face. Pale skin, almost no makeup except black eyeliner, a bit of shadow. And his lips were pink. Maybe gloss. Maybe not.
He was wearing ripped up blue jeans and a black jumper, probably a tanktop on underneath it, and boots. High boots up his calf muscles. His hair was black now, and the piercings in his ears twinkled in the dim light of the room. He smelled so good, and it took all of Yoochun’s host sensibilities not to stare in awe, drool, and permanently embed his face against Jaejoong’s neck.
“Hi,” Jaejoong whispered.
Yoochun swallowed. “H-hi.”
Jaejoong smiled. “You know who I am?”
Yoochun cleared his throat. “Y-yeah. I ... your biggest fan.”
Jaejoong smiled and Yoochun’s heart thumped. “Light me a cigarette.”
Yoochun nodded and leaned over the coffee table. They had four different packs of cigarettes. He did not need to ask Jaejoong which kind he liked. He took a cigarette from the pack, just using his lips. He lit it, hand shaking too much and inhaled a drag. He held it in his lungs for a moment, and then removed the cigarette and handed it to Jaejoong, before releasing the smoke up into the air.
Jaejoong lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I want something from your lips after they’ve been wrapped around this asshole’s cock?”
Hyunjoong protested and tried to smack Jaejoong.
“Used a condom,” Yoochun muttered.
Jaejoong smirked. “Good.” He took the cigarette and leaned back on the couch. “Hyunjoong, put your dick away, fuck.”
Yoochun smiled and fought the urge to laugh.
“You have a gorgeous smile,” Jaejoong said and touched his lips, and Yoochun flushed and looked away.
A famous rockstar destroyed his aloof host persona. Yoochun was not surprised. He’d been in love with Kim Jaejoong for years.
“What’s your name?”
“M-Micky.”
Jaejoong smiled. “Micky. Cute.”
Hyunjoong grumbled about something, and then Jaejoong asked for a bottle of rum, and Yoochun had to get up to make a quick call to the manager because Jaejoong refused to let him go get it.
When Jinki slipped into the room with a few bottles for Jaejoong to choose from, his eyes went wide because Jinki was a Hero fanboy too. And then he bowed, and asked Jaejoong if he wanted more than one host, and Jaejoong shrugged and said, “If only to keep Hyunjoong occupied. I have my favorite,” and he put his hand on Yoochun’s knee and Yoochun felt like dying again.
Kyujong came into the room and sat with Hyunjoong.
Jaejoong stayed on the couch, with Yoochun next to him, and drank way too much alcohol, and Yoochun had no choice but to match him, shot for shot. The night slipped away, and even if Jaejoong said very little to him, Yoochun stayed next to him, curled against his side while Jaejoong used his phone, updated his public twitter account, and then LINE. His head was swimming, his hands shaking, body quivering.
Jaejoong had unbuttoned his shirt, and his hand roved around Yoochun’s chest when he wasn’t doing things on his cell phone.
The main noise was Hyunjoong, getting drunker and drunker, getting more aggressive with Kyujong, who was really close to being naked.
“That’s enough,” Jaejoong suddenly said and stood up, and Yoochun almost fell off the couch from the suddenness of it. He’d been half asleep, almost in Jaejoong’s lap, with Jaejoong’s hand rubbing up and down his back. “Hyunnie, we’re leaving.”
Hyunjoong protested, and it took a few minutes for Jaejoong to manhandle him into the hallway. With a smile, he said to Yoochun, “Don’t leave. I’ll be right back.”
Yoochun nodded, and the door shut behind them, and Yoochun moaned and lay facedown on the couch.
He heard Kyujong laughing at him. “Dream come true, eh, Yoochunnie?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Money, money, money, money.”
Yoochun rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling, one side of his shirt fell open. His head was swimming. God, he’d had too much to drink.
A moment later, the door opened, and Kim Jaejoong walked back in, completely steady, like he hadn’t drank half a bottle of liquor by himself. “Sorry about that,” he said and went to Kyujong, giving him a wad of cash. “Hyunjoong gets really violent when he’s drunk, and as his best friend, I have to keep him from beating people up. You can leave and go do whatever it is that you do after you’re done with a client.”
Kyujong bowed his way out, and then Jaejoong moved to the couch.
“Sit up,” he demanded.
Yoochun did, having to grab the back of the couch to get himself up. He moaned and shut his eyes.
“Drunk?” Jaejoong asked and sat on the couch.
Yoochun moaned and let Jaejoong pull him back down, his head in Jaejoong’s lap. “A bit.”
Jaejoong chuckled and ran his hands through Yoochun’s hair. “How many men a night tell you that you’re beautiful?”
Yoochun smiled up at him. “I lose count.”
Jaejoong laughed. He picked up the cigarettes from the table, and lit one for himself and then for Yoochun.
Yoochun smiled around it and blew smoke up toward the ceiling.
Jaejoong pulled his phone out again, cigarette dangling from his lips, but he kept one hand on Yoochun’s chest, under his shirt, fingertips against his skin, brushing over his nipple.
“Why do you work here?” Jaejoong asked him after a long silence.
Yoochun looked up at him and smiled. He waved toward the table where there were crumpled bills among the empty bottles of soju and empty packs of cigarettes. “The money.”
“Do you like it?”
Yoochun shrugged. Normally when he was asked that, he made up something about how the men made it worth it, and how he loved his clients, and some other forms of bullshit. But Yoochun was good at figuring out types, and Jaejoong was not the type to swallow fake flattery. The man spent most of his life surrounded by fake flattery.
“Some nights it’s okay,” Yoochun finally said and turned his head to bury his face against Jaejoong’s stomach.
Jaejoong chuckled. “So what kind of host are you, Micky?”
“Meaning what?”
“Are you the kind that will do anything for a buck, or do you actually tell your clients no sometimes?”
“Ask me what you want and find out,” Yoochun said and smiled up at him.
Jaejoong smiled. “Sit up. Let’s play a game.”
Yoochun pouted. “But I’m comfortable.”
“And I want to play a game and I’m your client so you should do as I say.”
Yoochun rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.” He sat up, head still swimming a bit. “What game?”
Jaejoong leaned over to the coffee table and poured two shots of liquor. “I like to call it, ‘drink so much that my publicist has to actually work in the morning’.”
Yoochun laughed.
Jaejoong handed him the glass and said, “To pretty boys.”
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “To pretty rock stars.”
Jaejoong laughed.
They traded shots, back and forth, until Jaejoong was no longer pouring the alcohol into a glass but right into Yoochun’s mouth. He missed a lot and chased the drink down Yoochun’s neck with his mouth, in the hollows of his collarbones. Yoochun was straddling his knees, and he did not know how he got there.
“Should probably stop,” Jaejoong said and took a heavy swallow of rum. His other hand pulled Yoochun close by his neck, and their mouths joined and Jaejoong moaned and liquor went into both their mouths, down their chins, and Yoochun rocked on Jaejoong’s thighs with a moan. The bottle fell to the ground, and Jaejoong’s hands went around his waist and his shirt fell off and then he was pressed to the couch with Jaejoong over him, pants undone, a hand down them, and Yoochun moaned, head spinning too much for this.
“Too drunk,” Jaejoong gasped.
Yoochun nodded. Or thought he did. The room moved.
“Good game. Such a fun game.”
Yoochun laughed.
They kissed until Jinki came into the room, and told them it was three in the morning and the club was closing, and Jaejoong huffed in frustration. Unsteady on his feet, he stood up and emptied his wallet on the table. At the last moment, he grabbed a single bill and put it back.
“Taxi.”
Yoochun smiled.
“Do you need help home?” Jinki asked.
Jaejoong waved at him and almost fell over. “N-nope. I’m fine.” He staggered into the doorframe.
Jinki looked over at Yoochun with concern on his face. “You okay, Micky?”
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “So good.”
“He’ss’good,” Jaejoong slurred.
Jinki hooked his arm around Jaejoong’s waist and hefted him out the door.
Yoochun lay on the couch, body thrumming and head swimming, and his lips were on fire. In the morning, he’d blame the alcohol, but god, Jaejoong’s lips were so very delicious.
---
Pictures of Jinki helping Jaejoong into a cab had surfaced the next day, and Yoochun read article after article and a whole lot of netizen comments about how irresponsible he was. And then later that same day, a statement was released by Kim Jaejoong’s company. His publicist.
Kim Jaejoong enjoys being out at night and partying with his friends. He went out last night to karaoke and had a few drinks--
Yoochun snorted. “More like a few bottles,” he muttered. His head was still pounding.
But Kim Jaejoong is responsible and took a cab home, instead of trying to drive himself. He did not have any performances or interviews today, and he is at his home relaxing and preparing for his upcoming promotions. The man in the photo with him is, Lee Jinki, the manager of the karaoke club, The Music Box.
That night, Jinki handed him a note that said, “A successful game! Well-played! Thanks for everything!” No name, nothing else, but no doubt that it was from Jaejoong.
Yoochun put it on his mirror.
He filed his night with Jaejoong under “greatest moments of my life” and then his life moved on. He spent too many hours with his hand on his cock, stroking off to Jaejoong, but that was not any different than a normal week. Now he just had the feel of his hands and his lips to spur him on.
Part 2: The Getting-To-Know-You Game
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