Host with the Most 6/?
Title: Host with the Most 6/?
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 6: The Confession Game
Yoochun did not mean to fall asleep, but he woke up to a harsh beeping by his ear. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, reaching for his phone. The number was not one he recognized, but he answered it, and smiled when he heard Jaejoong arguing with someone else.
“Oh, sorry. Yoochun-ah. No fangirls in sight. What’s your address?”
Yoochun chuckled and gave him the address and the code to get in. “I’ll leave the apartment door open. Just come on in.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Jaejoong said, and then the call cut off as he started yelling at whoever was in the car with him.
It made Yoochun smile.
And it made him get up. He had no idea how far away Jaejoong was. He moved around the house, turning on the light above the sink and the hallway light, but leaving the rest off. In the kitchen, he removed a few cold bottles of soju and settled them on the bar.
He had just finished changing from the T-shirt he’d worn all day to a softer, clingy sweater when he heard the door move and a soft voice whisper his name.
The door clicked shut.
Yoochun entered the main room, and stopped in his tracks.
Hero, more than Jaejoong, stood by his door, but by god, he was breathtaking. He wore a suit, sort of, but the shirt underneath was a shocking shade of teal that matched a chunk of his hair brushing over his forehead. The pants were almost like silk, clinging to Jaejoong’s strong thighs. And the jacket was cut short, emphasising his tiny, tiny waist.
Yoochun’s mouth watered.
“Hi,” Jaejoong said.
Yoochun licked his lips. “Did you just say, ‘fuck me’ because really, that’s just ...”
Jaejoong laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Ass.”
Yoochun finally moved, floating to him and it was too easy, so easy to wrap his arms around that small waist and accept the kiss to his lips. A long kiss. More lips than tongue, but just enough to leave Yoochun with tingling skin and no real need or ability to breathe.
“I’ve missed you,” Yoochun said.
“Such a line,” Jaejoong muttered, but he was smiling as they kissed again.
“You look amazing.”
“Such a line.”
Yoochun laughed and finally pulled away. “I guess if I can’t say anything without you thinking it’s a line, then I better put my mouth to better uses.”
Jaejoong shook his head. “Such a line.”
They both laughed, and Yoochun wrapped his arm around Jaejoong’s middle and led him to the bar and the soju.
“Thank heaven,” Jaejoong muttered as he took one. “That was a stupid, stupid movie.”
Yoochun laughed and had his own drink. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” Jaejoong said and looked around. His eyes widened when he caught sight of all of Yoochun’s CDs.
“Go and look,” he said. “Most of them are yours.”
“I do not have that many.” He took the soju bottle with him and sipped on it as he read through the titles. He took one off the shelf. “You weren’t lying. You really do have H.O.T. Winter’s Kiss.”
Yoochun smiled and sang, “We’ll warm up by the fire, while the snow is piling higher, your lips are heat and awfully sweet, can we warm up by the fire.”
“You have an excellent voice. And that song was so stupid.”
Yoochun laughed. “Thanks. And I know. Gives me lots of lines to use, though.”
Jaejoong laughed and put the CD back where it was at. “I can’t believe some of these albums you have.” He ran his finger along the jazz collection on the top shelf. “I own most of these. And they’re in this order on my shelf.”
“Genre, Artist, Album,” Yoochun said.
“Compilations at the end,” Jaejoong finished.
“Music ...” Yoochun stopped and swallowed.
All in, Park Yoochun. All in.
“My father abused us a lot, growing up. It was worse in America. My mom died of a heart attack, technically, but I think she just gave up and couldn’t handle the abuse anymore. Music is how I survived. I threw myself into it. Taught myself the piano and how to sing. I lost myself in it. At night, while they were fighting. Yoohwannie and I would curl up in bed. We only had one set of headphones, but I let him use them so he didn’t have to hear them fighting.”
Yoochun looked away as Jaejoong stepped close, he flinched at the soft touch on his face, not knowing that he had actually cried.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Jaejoong whispered.
Yoochun shrugged. “I’m stronger for it. Yoohwannie is going to school now. I’ll never say I’m over it, but ...” He turned enough to take a deep pull off the soju bottle.
“Do you write your own music?” Jaejoong asked, an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from his emotions. But that’s what music was to Yoochun. And he knew that is what music was to Jaejoong. But he appreciated the effort.
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “Of course. Come here.” He held out his hand, and Jaejoong took it eagerly. Yoochun led him down the hall to his bedroom. The bed and dresser were pushed up against the side to make room for the electronic keyboard and computer equipment he had purchased over the years to write music.
“Wow.”
Jaejoong walked around it, running his finger over a few of the surfaces. When he touched the mouse, the computer screen brightened. On it were the notes of the current song giving Yoochun problems.
“May I?” Jaejoong asked, almost whispering.
Yoochun swallowed. He only shared his music with Yoohwan. And that particular song had Yoohwan cringing and saying, “It’s too happy for the melancholy.” Whatever that meant.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong said. “I know how close a person can get to music.”
“It’s not done yet,” Yoochun said as an excuse.
“Is there something done I can listen to?”
Yoochun did not want to. Because music was his soul.
Just like Jaejoong’s soul.
“I ... I can’t.” He turned away, and stiffened when Jaejoong put his arms around his waist. “It’s just ...”
Lips touched his neck. “Believe me when I say that I understand.”
Yoochun knew Jaejoong understood, which was part of the problem of not sharing his music.
“You and I are so alike,” Jaejoong said. “We could strip down and make love on this rug and it would not be as intimate as sharing music.”
“I’m sorry,” Yoochun said and turned in his arms. “I’ve heard so much of yours. It’s only fair to--”
Jaejoong kissed him to shut him up and then he said, “The music on my albums is about a hundredth of what I write. Some songs just aren’t meant to be shared. Stop worrying. You’ll let me listen to whatever you feel you need to, but only when you’re ready.”
Yoochun took a deep breath. “That’s part of the issue.”
“What is?”
Yoochun stared right at him and said, “I am ready, but ... it’s ... just ... I ...”
“It’s too soon, this is too fast, and it’s way too complicated.”
“Yes.”
Jaejoong smiled. “If you can’t share your music yet, that doesn’t mean we can’t listen to anything else.” He took Yoochun’s hand and dragged him back to the living room. He chose a CD full of nothing but ballads. Slipping off the jacket, he smiled at Yoochun.
“Dance with me,” he said and held out his arms.
Yoochun stared for only a moment and then moved into him, arms around his waist, bodies aligned, and then Jaejoong chuckled, and held out his hand, and with a giddy thump to his heart, Yoochun let him take it. A moment later, right on the beat, Jaejoong started dancing, leading him around the room with a loose grip on his hand and a tighter one around his waist, their cheeks pressed together.
“Part of the reason I was never put into a group was because of my asthma,” Yoochun whispered. “I learned to dance, but more than an hour had me gasping for breath most days. The company said it wasn’t a problem. Not at first. Because they liked my voice so much. But they were not going to put effort into a kid who could not meet their demands.”
“Did you like it? Being a trainee?”
“Not really. They were trying to take music away from me. I had to sing what they wanted me to sing. Anything I wrote belonged to them. I didn’t like that at all.”
Jaejoong hummed and pulled him closer. “They gave me music. I was tone deaf growing up and they taught me how to get over that. I’m definitely not the best dancer, but I learned, and I had fun.”
Yoochun pressed just a little closer to him, and Jaejoong followed suit. It was so easy to dance, just be held and imagine for a moment that life was just this, just the two of them. Music and dancing.
“Can I tell you something?”
Yoochun hummed in permission.
“This is what I think life should be.”
Yoochun stopped and pulled away, staring at him in carefully. Since he really just had the exact same thought.
“Well, isn’t it? Being with someone you like, adore ... love maybe, and just dancing with good music and soju. That ... it’s separate from the rest of the world, separate from who either of us are outside of the room. Here, it’s just you, me and the music. Life.”
Yoochun swallowed roughly and moved, sliding his hands up Jaejoong’s chest and around his neck before leaning in for a kiss. Jaejoong tightened his grip around Yoochun’s waist with both hands.
It felt like lifetimes before Yoochun pulled away, breathless and smiling.
Jaejoong returned the smile.
“Can you stay over?” Yoochun asked.
Jaejoong’s smile widened. “If you want me to.”
“I want you to.”
“Okay.”
Yoochun went back to his mouth for more kisses, but this time, Jaejoong returned them to dancing, just a few steps between each kiss, and then a small lick with a rock-back step. Yoochun followed each one, and then laughed as Jaejoong suddenly spun him under his arm. He yanked Yoochun back, but with a little too much energy and Yoochun smacked back into his chest and Jaejoong lost his balance and they fell onto the couch, laughing.
“Adorable,” Jaejoong said and kissed him again, and then again. “I wonder how many lifetimes it would take to get tired of kissing you.”
“Do you want to get tired of kissing me?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I guess that means in this lifetime you won’t. That’s all that matters.”
Jaejoong titled his head and said, “This lifetime?”
Yoochun shrugged. “Too soon?”
Smiling, Jaejoong shook his head. “Probably, but fuck it. Let’s get married.”
With a laugh, Yoochun resettled under Jaejoong on the couch. Jaejoong followed with his lips on skin and his hand tugging at the clingy fabric of his shirt.
“I won’t say that I owe you, but I really want to sleep with you,” Yoochun said. “I promise I won’t ruin it this time.”
Jaejoong smiled. “You didn’t ruin it last time.”
“I freaked out.”
“Why?” Jaejoong asked carefully.
Yoochun sucked his lips into his mouth while trying to think of a way to explain it. “I ... I got scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of how much I like you. How much ... how easy it was for you to weasel your way to Yoochun when all I ever meant to show you was Micky. You ... I just ...” He swallowed and managed to say, “Everything else is just another line.”
With a smirk, Jaejoong said, “Give me some lines.”
Yoochun shut his eyes. “You’re perfect for me. I belong to you. My soul feels like it reaches for you when we’re near. I want to dance with you in the middle of my living room for the rest of my life. I ...”
Jaejoong kissed him quiet and Yoochun tried to breathe past the lump in his throat.
“I like you so much,” Yoochun said, “and that scares me to death.”
Jaejoong nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” After one more kiss, Jaejoong said, “Let’s get up and go to bed. I have to be up early enough to slip away without fangirls knowing where I am.”
They both stood, staying close to each other, and Yoochun led him back to the bedroom.
“Weird request,” Jaejoong said, “but can I borrow your shower? I don’t want to sleep with all this product in my hair and I need to wash my face.”
“Will you give it back?”
Jaejoong stared at him, and then burst out laughing. “Ass!”
Yoochun smiled. “Yes, you can. The cold water is really strong, so be careful with it. Let me get you some sweats to wear, if you want.”
“If I want?” Jaejoong said. “I want to tumble into bed naked with you.”
Yoochun blushed. Again, but turned away and went to his bedroom. He heard Jaejoong chuckling.
“If you have shorts, that would be better!”
Yoochun found a pair of basketball shorts and a tanktop. He took them to the bathroom, and stared. Jaejoong had the water running, teal shirt off and hanging from the doorknob, leaving Jaejoong’s tattooed back and all those muscles for Yoochun to drool over. He licked his lips.
“Here you go,” he said and quickly deposited the clothes on the counter. “There’s an extra toothbrush under the sink.” He took the teal shirt out with him and shut the door.
“Fuck,” he whispered and leaned against it. He was not sure if he was going to survive sharing a bed with Jaejoong. He was not sure if he even wanted to. Gripping the shirt tightly, he brought it up to his face and inhaled. God, Jaejoong smelled so good. He hurried across the hall to his bedroom and hung the shirt on a hanger, and then put it on the back of his chair. He moved around his apartment, found their discarded bottles of soju and finished them both, somehow hoping that would help calm him down. He turned off the CD player and all the lights but the one above the sink. He did not like it completely dark if he ended up waking up in the middle of the night.
Jaejoong’s shower was short, and Yoochun was changing into his own sweats and tanktop when the door to his bedroom opened.
Jaejoong rubbed a towel on his head. His body looked amazing in nothing but a tanktop. “Don’t put a shirt on,” Jaejoong said quickly.
“Why not?”
Jaejoong smirked. “Because I want to ogle you.”
Yoochun rolled his eyes even if his entire chest and neck were flushing from the heat of embarrassment.
“Get on the bed,” Jaejoong said. “On your stomach.”
Yoochun narrowed his eyes at him. “Why?”
Jaejoong pouted. “Because I said so.”
Yoochun huffed but did as he was told and pulled a pillow under his head. His breath sped up when Jaejoong straddled his ass and ran his hands up Yoochun’s back.
“Relax. I’m not going to do anything to you.”
“Too bad,” Yoochun murmured.
Jaejoong chuckled. There was a snap and then a sound of a bottle being squeezed. A moment later, Jaejoong’s hands were back on his skin, slick with lotion. Yoochun moaned at the deep touch on his back, firm press to his muscles.
“You spend a lot of time taking care of other people,” Jaejoong said, “and I doubt you ever let people take care of you. Do you?”
“No,” Yoochun mumbled.
“Just relax, okay?”
The massage felt good, heavenly after the stress of his day, the worry of sending his brother off on a plane again.
Jaejoong’s touch was firm, a whisper of an apology when Yoochun tensed after a hard push on his back. Yoochun had not had such a good massage since his trainee days, but it was easier to enjoy this one since he did not have a cramp in his leg or his arm.
Yoochun had no idea he had drifted off to sleep until a warm body slipped next to him and the blanket settled over his back. His first thought was that Yoohwan had needed to be close for a little while, and then he remembered that Yoohwan was gone and that it was Jaejoong instead. He froze, unsure about their bodies being so close together. And then Jaejoong put his arm around Yoochun’s bare waist, pulled him close, with lips against his shoulder, and Yoochun smiled. He shifted back, and Jaejoong hummed in contentment. Lips touched his neck and a whisper of “Good night, YooYoo,” had Yoochun drifting back to sleep.
Part 7: The Game of Music
Part 5: The Dating Game
Part 4: The Telephone Game
Part 3: The Rules of the Game
Part 2: The Getting-To-Know-You Game
Part 1: The Drinking 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 6: The Confession Game
Yoochun did not mean to fall asleep, but he woke up to a harsh beeping by his ear. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, reaching for his phone. The number was not one he recognized, but he answered it, and smiled when he heard Jaejoong arguing with someone else.
“Oh, sorry. Yoochun-ah. No fangirls in sight. What’s your address?”
Yoochun chuckled and gave him the address and the code to get in. “I’ll leave the apartment door open. Just come on in.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Jaejoong said, and then the call cut off as he started yelling at whoever was in the car with him.
It made Yoochun smile.
And it made him get up. He had no idea how far away Jaejoong was. He moved around the house, turning on the light above the sink and the hallway light, but leaving the rest off. In the kitchen, he removed a few cold bottles of soju and settled them on the bar.
He had just finished changing from the T-shirt he’d worn all day to a softer, clingy sweater when he heard the door move and a soft voice whisper his name.
The door clicked shut.
Yoochun entered the main room, and stopped in his tracks.
Hero, more than Jaejoong, stood by his door, but by god, he was breathtaking. He wore a suit, sort of, but the shirt underneath was a shocking shade of teal that matched a chunk of his hair brushing over his forehead. The pants were almost like silk, clinging to Jaejoong’s strong thighs. And the jacket was cut short, emphasising his tiny, tiny waist.
Yoochun’s mouth watered.
“Hi,” Jaejoong said.
Yoochun licked his lips. “Did you just say, ‘fuck me’ because really, that’s just ...”
Jaejoong laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Ass.”
Yoochun finally moved, floating to him and it was too easy, so easy to wrap his arms around that small waist and accept the kiss to his lips. A long kiss. More lips than tongue, but just enough to leave Yoochun with tingling skin and no real need or ability to breathe.
“I’ve missed you,” Yoochun said.
“Such a line,” Jaejoong muttered, but he was smiling as they kissed again.
“You look amazing.”
“Such a line.”
Yoochun laughed and finally pulled away. “I guess if I can’t say anything without you thinking it’s a line, then I better put my mouth to better uses.”
Jaejoong shook his head. “Such a line.”
They both laughed, and Yoochun wrapped his arm around Jaejoong’s middle and led him to the bar and the soju.
“Thank heaven,” Jaejoong muttered as he took one. “That was a stupid, stupid movie.”
Yoochun laughed and had his own drink. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” Jaejoong said and looked around. His eyes widened when he caught sight of all of Yoochun’s CDs.
“Go and look,” he said. “Most of them are yours.”
“I do not have that many.” He took the soju bottle with him and sipped on it as he read through the titles. He took one off the shelf. “You weren’t lying. You really do have H.O.T. Winter’s Kiss.”
Yoochun smiled and sang, “We’ll warm up by the fire, while the snow is piling higher, your lips are heat and awfully sweet, can we warm up by the fire.”
“You have an excellent voice. And that song was so stupid.”
Yoochun laughed. “Thanks. And I know. Gives me lots of lines to use, though.”
Jaejoong laughed and put the CD back where it was at. “I can’t believe some of these albums you have.” He ran his finger along the jazz collection on the top shelf. “I own most of these. And they’re in this order on my shelf.”
“Genre, Artist, Album,” Yoochun said.
“Compilations at the end,” Jaejoong finished.
“Music ...” Yoochun stopped and swallowed.
All in, Park Yoochun. All in.
“My father abused us a lot, growing up. It was worse in America. My mom died of a heart attack, technically, but I think she just gave up and couldn’t handle the abuse anymore. Music is how I survived. I threw myself into it. Taught myself the piano and how to sing. I lost myself in it. At night, while they were fighting. Yoohwannie and I would curl up in bed. We only had one set of headphones, but I let him use them so he didn’t have to hear them fighting.”
Yoochun looked away as Jaejoong stepped close, he flinched at the soft touch on his face, not knowing that he had actually cried.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Jaejoong whispered.
Yoochun shrugged. “I’m stronger for it. Yoohwannie is going to school now. I’ll never say I’m over it, but ...” He turned enough to take a deep pull off the soju bottle.
“Do you write your own music?” Jaejoong asked, an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from his emotions. But that’s what music was to Yoochun. And he knew that is what music was to Jaejoong. But he appreciated the effort.
Yoochun smiled and nodded. “Of course. Come here.” He held out his hand, and Jaejoong took it eagerly. Yoochun led him down the hall to his bedroom. The bed and dresser were pushed up against the side to make room for the electronic keyboard and computer equipment he had purchased over the years to write music.
“Wow.”
Jaejoong walked around it, running his finger over a few of the surfaces. When he touched the mouse, the computer screen brightened. On it were the notes of the current song giving Yoochun problems.
“May I?” Jaejoong asked, almost whispering.
Yoochun swallowed. He only shared his music with Yoohwan. And that particular song had Yoohwan cringing and saying, “It’s too happy for the melancholy.” Whatever that meant.
“I’m sorry,” Jaejoong said. “I know how close a person can get to music.”
“It’s not done yet,” Yoochun said as an excuse.
“Is there something done I can listen to?”
Yoochun did not want to. Because music was his soul.
Just like Jaejoong’s soul.
“I ... I can’t.” He turned away, and stiffened when Jaejoong put his arms around his waist. “It’s just ...”
Lips touched his neck. “Believe me when I say that I understand.”
Yoochun knew Jaejoong understood, which was part of the problem of not sharing his music.
“You and I are so alike,” Jaejoong said. “We could strip down and make love on this rug and it would not be as intimate as sharing music.”
“I’m sorry,” Yoochun said and turned in his arms. “I’ve heard so much of yours. It’s only fair to--”
Jaejoong kissed him to shut him up and then he said, “The music on my albums is about a hundredth of what I write. Some songs just aren’t meant to be shared. Stop worrying. You’ll let me listen to whatever you feel you need to, but only when you’re ready.”
Yoochun took a deep breath. “That’s part of the issue.”
“What is?”
Yoochun stared right at him and said, “I am ready, but ... it’s ... just ... I ...”
“It’s too soon, this is too fast, and it’s way too complicated.”
“Yes.”
Jaejoong smiled. “If you can’t share your music yet, that doesn’t mean we can’t listen to anything else.” He took Yoochun’s hand and dragged him back to the living room. He chose a CD full of nothing but ballads. Slipping off the jacket, he smiled at Yoochun.
“Dance with me,” he said and held out his arms.
Yoochun stared for only a moment and then moved into him, arms around his waist, bodies aligned, and then Jaejoong chuckled, and held out his hand, and with a giddy thump to his heart, Yoochun let him take it. A moment later, right on the beat, Jaejoong started dancing, leading him around the room with a loose grip on his hand and a tighter one around his waist, their cheeks pressed together.
“Part of the reason I was never put into a group was because of my asthma,” Yoochun whispered. “I learned to dance, but more than an hour had me gasping for breath most days. The company said it wasn’t a problem. Not at first. Because they liked my voice so much. But they were not going to put effort into a kid who could not meet their demands.”
“Did you like it? Being a trainee?”
“Not really. They were trying to take music away from me. I had to sing what they wanted me to sing. Anything I wrote belonged to them. I didn’t like that at all.”
Jaejoong hummed and pulled him closer. “They gave me music. I was tone deaf growing up and they taught me how to get over that. I’m definitely not the best dancer, but I learned, and I had fun.”
Yoochun pressed just a little closer to him, and Jaejoong followed suit. It was so easy to dance, just be held and imagine for a moment that life was just this, just the two of them. Music and dancing.
“Can I tell you something?”
Yoochun hummed in permission.
“This is what I think life should be.”
Yoochun stopped and pulled away, staring at him in carefully. Since he really just had the exact same thought.
“Well, isn’t it? Being with someone you like, adore ... love maybe, and just dancing with good music and soju. That ... it’s separate from the rest of the world, separate from who either of us are outside of the room. Here, it’s just you, me and the music. Life.”
Yoochun swallowed roughly and moved, sliding his hands up Jaejoong’s chest and around his neck before leaning in for a kiss. Jaejoong tightened his grip around Yoochun’s waist with both hands.
It felt like lifetimes before Yoochun pulled away, breathless and smiling.
Jaejoong returned the smile.
“Can you stay over?” Yoochun asked.
Jaejoong’s smile widened. “If you want me to.”
“I want you to.”
“Okay.”
Yoochun went back to his mouth for more kisses, but this time, Jaejoong returned them to dancing, just a few steps between each kiss, and then a small lick with a rock-back step. Yoochun followed each one, and then laughed as Jaejoong suddenly spun him under his arm. He yanked Yoochun back, but with a little too much energy and Yoochun smacked back into his chest and Jaejoong lost his balance and they fell onto the couch, laughing.
“Adorable,” Jaejoong said and kissed him again, and then again. “I wonder how many lifetimes it would take to get tired of kissing you.”
“Do you want to get tired of kissing me?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I guess that means in this lifetime you won’t. That’s all that matters.”
Jaejoong titled his head and said, “This lifetime?”
Yoochun shrugged. “Too soon?”
Smiling, Jaejoong shook his head. “Probably, but fuck it. Let’s get married.”
With a laugh, Yoochun resettled under Jaejoong on the couch. Jaejoong followed with his lips on skin and his hand tugging at the clingy fabric of his shirt.
“I won’t say that I owe you, but I really want to sleep with you,” Yoochun said. “I promise I won’t ruin it this time.”
Jaejoong smiled. “You didn’t ruin it last time.”
“I freaked out.”
“Why?” Jaejoong asked carefully.
Yoochun sucked his lips into his mouth while trying to think of a way to explain it. “I ... I got scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of how much I like you. How much ... how easy it was for you to weasel your way to Yoochun when all I ever meant to show you was Micky. You ... I just ...” He swallowed and managed to say, “Everything else is just another line.”
With a smirk, Jaejoong said, “Give me some lines.”
Yoochun shut his eyes. “You’re perfect for me. I belong to you. My soul feels like it reaches for you when we’re near. I want to dance with you in the middle of my living room for the rest of my life. I ...”
Jaejoong kissed him quiet and Yoochun tried to breathe past the lump in his throat.
“I like you so much,” Yoochun said, “and that scares me to death.”
Jaejoong nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” After one more kiss, Jaejoong said, “Let’s get up and go to bed. I have to be up early enough to slip away without fangirls knowing where I am.”
They both stood, staying close to each other, and Yoochun led him back to the bedroom.
“Weird request,” Jaejoong said, “but can I borrow your shower? I don’t want to sleep with all this product in my hair and I need to wash my face.”
“Will you give it back?”
Jaejoong stared at him, and then burst out laughing. “Ass!”
Yoochun smiled. “Yes, you can. The cold water is really strong, so be careful with it. Let me get you some sweats to wear, if you want.”
“If I want?” Jaejoong said. “I want to tumble into bed naked with you.”
Yoochun blushed. Again, but turned away and went to his bedroom. He heard Jaejoong chuckling.
“If you have shorts, that would be better!”
Yoochun found a pair of basketball shorts and a tanktop. He took them to the bathroom, and stared. Jaejoong had the water running, teal shirt off and hanging from the doorknob, leaving Jaejoong’s tattooed back and all those muscles for Yoochun to drool over. He licked his lips.
“Here you go,” he said and quickly deposited the clothes on the counter. “There’s an extra toothbrush under the sink.” He took the teal shirt out with him and shut the door.
“Fuck,” he whispered and leaned against it. He was not sure if he was going to survive sharing a bed with Jaejoong. He was not sure if he even wanted to. Gripping the shirt tightly, he brought it up to his face and inhaled. God, Jaejoong smelled so good. He hurried across the hall to his bedroom and hung the shirt on a hanger, and then put it on the back of his chair. He moved around his apartment, found their discarded bottles of soju and finished them both, somehow hoping that would help calm him down. He turned off the CD player and all the lights but the one above the sink. He did not like it completely dark if he ended up waking up in the middle of the night.
Jaejoong’s shower was short, and Yoochun was changing into his own sweats and tanktop when the door to his bedroom opened.
Jaejoong rubbed a towel on his head. His body looked amazing in nothing but a tanktop. “Don’t put a shirt on,” Jaejoong said quickly.
“Why not?”
Jaejoong smirked. “Because I want to ogle you.”
Yoochun rolled his eyes even if his entire chest and neck were flushing from the heat of embarrassment.
“Get on the bed,” Jaejoong said. “On your stomach.”
Yoochun narrowed his eyes at him. “Why?”
Jaejoong pouted. “Because I said so.”
Yoochun huffed but did as he was told and pulled a pillow under his head. His breath sped up when Jaejoong straddled his ass and ran his hands up Yoochun’s back.
“Relax. I’m not going to do anything to you.”
“Too bad,” Yoochun murmured.
Jaejoong chuckled. There was a snap and then a sound of a bottle being squeezed. A moment later, Jaejoong’s hands were back on his skin, slick with lotion. Yoochun moaned at the deep touch on his back, firm press to his muscles.
“You spend a lot of time taking care of other people,” Jaejoong said, “and I doubt you ever let people take care of you. Do you?”
“No,” Yoochun mumbled.
“Just relax, okay?”
The massage felt good, heavenly after the stress of his day, the worry of sending his brother off on a plane again.
Jaejoong’s touch was firm, a whisper of an apology when Yoochun tensed after a hard push on his back. Yoochun had not had such a good massage since his trainee days, but it was easier to enjoy this one since he did not have a cramp in his leg or his arm.
Yoochun had no idea he had drifted off to sleep until a warm body slipped next to him and the blanket settled over his back. His first thought was that Yoohwan had needed to be close for a little while, and then he remembered that Yoohwan was gone and that it was Jaejoong instead. He froze, unsure about their bodies being so close together. And then Jaejoong put his arm around Yoochun’s bare waist, pulled him close, with lips against his shoulder, and Yoochun smiled. He shifted back, and Jaejoong hummed in contentment. Lips touched his neck and a whisper of “Good night, YooYoo,” had Yoochun drifting back to sleep.
Part 7: The Game of Music
Part 5: The Dating Game
Part 4: The Telephone Game
Part 3: The Rules of the Game
Part 2: The Getting-To-Know-You Game
Part 1: The Drinking Game
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