RPS - DBSK Sweet Harmony #2: Private Performance (Yoochun/Junsu)
There is no end in sight. I've even been reduced to using tags. (Tags!)
It only takes two to produce harmony, but if you have five...whoa, the sound. This series is about the five of them; the boys which a particular story focuses on depends on where the series goes. Not all the ties are the same, but they are all equally strong. Just because I have names in the "Pairings" heading, doesn't mean they are the only ones in the story. It doesn't mean that the other relationships aren't portrayed. It only means that these are the ones getting nekkid this time. *VBG*
Title: Private Performance
Series: Sweet Harmony
Rating: Explicit (Not kidding)
Pairings: Junsu/Yoochun
Author's Notes:
Rana keeps my self-indulgence at bay, but she also keeps feeding me snippets of pretty boys, so I love her anyway. *smooch*
“Do you think they’ve killed him?”
It takes a few moments for the words to register in Yoochun’s brain, what with Junsu propped up on the pillows, his hands tucked behind his head. Naked. All of him, not just his hands. Yeah, covered by a sheet to his hips, but.... The thin cloth really serves no practical purpose, and.... Wait, question.... “I think you need to be more specific.”
“That’s right!” Junsu’s grin is brilliant in a way the camera could never capture, but the tone makes Yoochun roll his eyes and return his attention to his clothes-hanger or laundry basket? “The baby has unnerved our man of the world.”
“I wouldn’t say he unnerved me. He just surprised me.” Hangers will require attention and Junsu’s skin is demanding pretty much all of it. The clothes in his hands get tossed in the hamper and the few remaining on his body follow fast.
“Surprised you enough to make you run away.” Junsu lifts up the sheet in invitation and Yoochun pauses for a moment for dramatic effect and to appreciate Junsu’s own choreography as he rolls onto his side. And sometimes there are too many performers in this bedroom.
Yoochun slides into the bed and against the skin that has been teasing him all evening-in the open collar, at the edge of the cuffs, behind Junsu’s ear when he runs his hands through his hair. “I wasn’t running away, I was running towards,” he says against the pulse at the side of Junsu’s throat.
“Since I know Jaejoong also...surprises you, you’re probably safer here.”
Junsu is in the mood for a verbal tussle it seems, which isn’t a bad thing, except that Yoochun isn’t. Not really. Not on Junsu’s terms anyway. “I’m certain I’m better off, but I wouldn’t call it safer to be in bed with an acolyte to a sex god.”
“A...what?!” Junsu rolls onto his back howling with laugher, and Yoochun hides his own grin as he licks his way across Junsu’s chest. “You’ve been reading those stories on the internet again, haven’t you?” He gives the skin under his lips a nip, which makes Junsu giggle even as he mouths, “Ow.”
“I only read the ones with you and me,” Yoochun says, and slowly eases on top of Junsu as he kisses his way up Junsu’s torso, then almost gets tossed off as Junsu starts to laugh again.
“You think that makes it better?”
“I skim them to find the bits where the author rhapsodizes about you. You were really, really hot in that one.” Yoochun leans down to breathe against Junsu’s smiling lips. “Almost as good as the real thing.”
“Almost.” Junsu is snickering, again, and Yoochun pounces.
“Well, in some ways better, a lot better, but it had the whole only-being-words-on-a-page issue working against it.” Finally in place, Yoochun flexes his hips and is gratified to see Junsu’s indignant snarl evaporate into a groan as he arches his neck.
“At least she was right about my focus of worship,” Junsu murmurs in a throaty voice that short-circuits Yoochun’s brain. Or maybe it’s Junsu’s hands running over his hips to cup his ass.
“Huh?” The question--such as it is--ends in a gasp as Junsu flips them. And Junsu’s smile isn’t doing his overloaded brain any good at all.
“My focus,” Junsu runs his tongue from Yoochun’s heart down to his head, “of worship.” And then swallows it.
Yoochun has the feeling that he’s just been made fun of, but can’t complain about the punchline. He hangs onto the headboard to keep his hands out of Junsu’s hair. He loves to feel the curve of Junsu’s skull under his hands, but he also knows he doesn’t always have the self-control not to hang on too hard. The fact that he can hardly breathe gives him the hint that this is most likely one of those times. He arches into Junsu’s mouth, tries not to moan so loud as to be heard through the walls. Unlike others in this house.
The heat leaves him far, far too soon, but any breath of protest is stolen by Junsu. Junsu is kissing him. Like he *means* it. Yoochun releases his grip to find something more solid to hang onto, but Junsu catches his wrists and places his hands back on the pillow above his head. It is a request; Junsu lets go almost instantly, and Yoochun complies. He will do anything. He will always do anything for Junsu.
“My adoration,” Junsu whispers into Yoochun’s ear as he nuzzles his way down Yoochun’s neck. His hands skim down Yoochun’s sides, fingers spread wide, almost cupping his rib cage. “My devotion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My scorchingly sexy god.”
“You’ve been bouncing the football off your head again, haven’t you?”
“Shut up.”
“Is that any way for an acolyte to speak to his master?”
Junsu sits up, trapping Yoochun’s erection under his ass, providing just enough pressure to be maddening. He runs his fingers through his hair, partially to push it out of his eyes, partially because he knows it drives Yoochun wild. “I knew that’s why you liked that idea.”
“Shut up.”
A quick roll to the side, tips Junsu-giggling Junsu-back onto the mattress. Yoochun keeps going, back to the position where he can rest his elbows just above Junsu’s shoulders. He cups Junsu’s jaw, uses his thumbs to trace his cheekbones. The giggling stops, but Junsu’s smile gets brighter. “You are so beautiful, I can’t breathe,” Yoochun says, helpless to prevent stupid things like that from coming out of his mouth.
“But you’re talking,” Junsu says, not laughing, watching Yoochun’s lips with intent focus.
“Shut up,” Yoochun whispers as he lowers his head, then kisses Junsu like *he* means it. Which he does. Each and every time. But sometimes it’s different.
He has the feeling that the reason why this night is different is important. But the feeling isn’t as strong as the feeling of Junsu’s arms, wrapped tight around him. Of Junsu’s mouth, hot and clinging as Yoochun tries to catch his breath between kisses. Of Junsu’s cock pushing hard against his belly or of Junsu’s leg wrapping over his hip. Yoochun pulls back to confirm the plan for the night and, oh yeah, there’s a smile the world has *never* seen.
“If Changmin has raided the condom stash, I’ll kill him myself,” Yoochun mutters as he reaches into the drawer.
“He wouldn’t have dared.” And if *that* expression is ever captured, Junsu’s image of the sweet, gentle boy will be shot to hell.
Yoochun’s still searching for the small bottle he knows is in there, when Junsu growls, “Hurry up. The condom’s lubricated.”
“You would never accept that as good enough in my place,” Yoochun says, sitting up, successful in his search.
“That’s different.”
“How is that different?”
“Are we going to argue about this *now*?”
The question becomes rhetorical as Yoochun slides two slick fingers inside with perfect aim and Junsu’s eyes roll back in his head. Since he plans on being here a little while at least, Yoochun leans over and licks the length of Junsu’s cock. He hears a soft cry, and looks up as he twists his wrist and takes the head between his lips. The next sound is a gasp and then silence. Yoochun reaches up with his other hand and places it on Junsu’s chest, just a gentle reminder that there are lungs in the general vicinity and that they are often useful. He takes Junsu in deeper, and Junsu releases his breath as Yoochun starts up an easy rhythm, one complimented by the movement of his fingers. As Junsu fills further, his other hand is needed, but then so is more lube, so he releases Junsu completely in favour of continuing preparations.
“You left.”
The sound is so forlorn, Yoochun nuzzles at Junsu’s cock again before asking, “Do you want to do this instead?” He slides his freshly slicked fingers back in and places a wet kiss below the head.
“No.” The answer is firm, and so is Junsu’s grip on Yoochun’s free hand, urging him up Junsu’s body. “No. I want you.”
Yoochun takes back his hand and focuses hard on the last step: getting the condom on and adding an extra coating of lubrication. Junsu’s voice keeps echoing in his head and if he looks at Junsu now, he’ll be lost. It’s always the simplest phrases that get him.
“Yoochun.”
And that one word, said in Junsu’s soft, sweet, sexy voice, never ever helps.
“I’ll turn over and you can pretend I’m somebody else?”
“WHAT!?!”
“Just checking.”
Bastard. Fucking smug, cheeky son of a bitch. With a grin on him that’s just begging to be licked off. But first things first. Yoochun pushes, slow but steady, and Junsu starts to pant before he’s halfway in. He doesn't plan on stopping unless he’s asked, but he watches carefully in case the discomfort tips into real pain. It never does, although Junsu’s head is rocking slowly on the pillow by the time he’s done. Yoochun feels a little guilt about pushing down harder on Junsu’s thighs, but he needs to be kissed. Badly.
Or maybe he just needs to breathe in Junsu, because gently brushing over the parted lips settles whatever was starting to churn in Yoochun’s gut. When Junsu’s lips reach to press against his, something else starts to want to move, and by the time Junsu has a two-handed grip on his hair, he is grateful for the anchor it provides. He’s never actually fucked Junsu, not in the sense of doing something *to* him, because Junsu can’t seem to simply take-he has to keep giving. He flexes, he caresses, he kisses, he whispers those damn words that make Yoochun have to rub his face into Junsu’s neck. Yoochun tries to be as generous, but sometimes he can’t and gets swept away in the sensations.
Not tonight.
Tonight he has his own kisses he wants to give, a few little phrases he wants to say, but he’ll start with the easy stuff first. Even with Junsu making the world spin, Yoochun finds his balance and slides a hand between them. He echoes the growl Junsu makes into his mouth, and all good intentions of making this sweet and tender and full of whispered sentiments evaporate. Junsu may be the drummer but Yoochun knows this rhythm, the one that turns Junsu into a panting, writhing, sweat-slicked force of nature, and Yoochun knows which one of them is really the god, and which is the acolyte.
“Yoochun, your hand.... I can’t....”
“Don’t try. I want to watch you fall.” Yoochun holds Junsu’s stare, he can be stubborn too, then Junsu tightens his fists in Yoochun’s hair for a moment.
“Catch me.” It isn’t a request and Yoochun smiles at the trust.
An answering smile precedes Junsu closing his eyes. The tension subtly fighting Yoochun’s pace disappears, while the hold on Yoochun’s braced shoulder might leave bruises, but Yoochun can’t tear himself away from watching Junsu’s face. Which is good, it is telling him everything he needs to know - when he hits the right spot, when he has the right grip, when to go faster, when to squeeze harder. When to turn his head and brush his lips against the pulse at Junsu’s wrist. And when he looks back, Junsu is watching him.
“Fall with me.”
Damn words! “No. This one’s yours.” Yoochun wants to kiss him so bad, fall into his arms, into his body, but he is determined to give this to Junsu. Junsu runs his fingertips along the side of Yoochun’s face, then moves both hands to Yoochun’s arms and doesn’t fall, he dives. So much for fucking catching; it’s all Yoochun can to do hang on.
But he does. Because he will do anything. He rocks gently through the contractions around his cock, uses a slow, firm stroke with his now slick fist, and kisses every piece of skin that he can reach without getting in his own way. Then he stops, he has to stop, and watches as Junsu’s breathing eases and his eyes open.
“My turn,” Junsu whispers, smiling, and Yoochun lets Junsu catch him. It’s too easy to fall into Junsu, he’s always welcomed with enthusiasm. Junsu does most things with enthusiasm, but Yoochun has to admit he’s probably experienced the height. Junsu’s hands, his mouth, and, oh God, how can he still have the coordination to squeeze like that?! Yoochun closes his eyes and trusts he’ll survive the tumble.
How he actually ends up on the mattress is, as usual, a blur. Catching is less of a euphemism than it should be. But Junsu’s arms are around him and the sooner he gets rid of the condom the sooner the rest will be touching him as well. One hand finds a tissue to protect the bedside table, while the other pulls Junsu close. “That was so good,” Junsu murmurs as he finds a comfortable spot tucked under Yoochun’s chin. “I’m glad you stayed tonight.”
“I think I’ve pretty much moved in here. Haven’t changed the sheets on my own bed in a month.”
“I meant at the party.”
And there it is. All the stuff Yoochun has been avoiding by focusing on Junsu’s body, Junsu’s pleasure, gets dumped in front of him in a big pile.
He’d liked-been blown away by-Changmin’s kisses, the feel of his hands, the still growing strength of his body. He hadn’t hesitated at the suggestion of more. The plan had been to just tell someone, anyone, that they were going, but the idea of Junsu being left alone.... And when Junsu smiled at him when he brushed by him after returning.... And the relief that Yunho and Jaejoong could tell Changmin, thereby keeping him out of range, because Changmin is...mmmm. Yet here he is with tears in his eyes, unable to finish a sentence in his own head.
“You’re spacier than usual tonight. Where do you keep going, Yoochun?”
“Back to you it seems.”
Junsu pulls back, and his brow furrows as he lifts his hand and teases Yoochun’s eyelashes with his thumb, coaxing a tear loose. “And that thought makes you cry?”
Idiot. Really, sometimes.... Idiot. “No, that thought makes my heart so full it hurts.”
“Oh.” So soft, so warm, both the sound and Junsu’s touch in the middle of his chest. Then Junsu raises his eyebrow and lowers his hand. “Anything else filling?”
Yoochun grabs Junsu’s wandering hand and pulls him close again. “Five...no, ten minutes’ complete rest. That isn’t too much to ask. We’re not all Super ‘Su.”
“What are we going to do for ten whole minutes?” Junsu whines against Yoochun’s shoulder. Then he pulls back again. “I know. You can tell me about Changmin.”
“No.” Oh, no, no, no. Not good.
“Come on. The looks passing between the two of you almost set fire to the tablecloths. And you looked very kissed when you came back into the party.”
“I did not.”
“You really did. Almost dragged you into a dark room myself so no one else could drool over those sexy lips.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Yoochun briefly considers using the pillow, has an interesting flash of actually gagging Junsu properly, but eventually settles for what he knows he is being dared to do. He settles on Junsu’s lips, very lightly, tickling, teasing so that Junsu begins to reach for him. They cling, caress, taste along the edges. Very quickly he finds himself again on that exhilarating ride which is always familiar, but always changing. And maybe that's why he keeps coming back; Junsu's a dare he has yet to get tired of taking.
It only takes two to produce harmony, but if you have five...whoa, the sound. This series is about the five of them; the boys which a particular story focuses on depends on where the series goes. Not all the ties are the same, but they are all equally strong. Just because I have names in the "Pairings" heading, doesn't mean they are the only ones in the story. It doesn't mean that the other relationships aren't portrayed. It only means that these are the ones getting nekkid this time. *VBG*
Title: Private Performance
Series: Sweet Harmony
Rating: Explicit (Not kidding)
Pairings: Junsu/Yoochun
Author's Notes:
Rana keeps my self-indulgence at bay, but she also keeps feeding me snippets of pretty boys, so I love her anyway. *smooch*
“Do you think they’ve killed him?”
It takes a few moments for the words to register in Yoochun’s brain, what with Junsu propped up on the pillows, his hands tucked behind his head. Naked. All of him, not just his hands. Yeah, covered by a sheet to his hips, but.... The thin cloth really serves no practical purpose, and.... Wait, question.... “I think you need to be more specific.”
“That’s right!” Junsu’s grin is brilliant in a way the camera could never capture, but the tone makes Yoochun roll his eyes and return his attention to his clothes-hanger or laundry basket? “The baby has unnerved our man of the world.”
“I wouldn’t say he unnerved me. He just surprised me.” Hangers will require attention and Junsu’s skin is demanding pretty much all of it. The clothes in his hands get tossed in the hamper and the few remaining on his body follow fast.
“Surprised you enough to make you run away.” Junsu lifts up the sheet in invitation and Yoochun pauses for a moment for dramatic effect and to appreciate Junsu’s own choreography as he rolls onto his side. And sometimes there are too many performers in this bedroom.
Yoochun slides into the bed and against the skin that has been teasing him all evening-in the open collar, at the edge of the cuffs, behind Junsu’s ear when he runs his hands through his hair. “I wasn’t running away, I was running towards,” he says against the pulse at the side of Junsu’s throat.
“Since I know Jaejoong also...surprises you, you’re probably safer here.”
Junsu is in the mood for a verbal tussle it seems, which isn’t a bad thing, except that Yoochun isn’t. Not really. Not on Junsu’s terms anyway. “I’m certain I’m better off, but I wouldn’t call it safer to be in bed with an acolyte to a sex god.”
“A...what?!” Junsu rolls onto his back howling with laugher, and Yoochun hides his own grin as he licks his way across Junsu’s chest. “You’ve been reading those stories on the internet again, haven’t you?” He gives the skin under his lips a nip, which makes Junsu giggle even as he mouths, “Ow.”
“I only read the ones with you and me,” Yoochun says, and slowly eases on top of Junsu as he kisses his way up Junsu’s torso, then almost gets tossed off as Junsu starts to laugh again.
“You think that makes it better?”
“I skim them to find the bits where the author rhapsodizes about you. You were really, really hot in that one.” Yoochun leans down to breathe against Junsu’s smiling lips. “Almost as good as the real thing.”
“Almost.” Junsu is snickering, again, and Yoochun pounces.
“Well, in some ways better, a lot better, but it had the whole only-being-words-on-a-page issue working against it.” Finally in place, Yoochun flexes his hips and is gratified to see Junsu’s indignant snarl evaporate into a groan as he arches his neck.
“At least she was right about my focus of worship,” Junsu murmurs in a throaty voice that short-circuits Yoochun’s brain. Or maybe it’s Junsu’s hands running over his hips to cup his ass.
“Huh?” The question--such as it is--ends in a gasp as Junsu flips them. And Junsu’s smile isn’t doing his overloaded brain any good at all.
“My focus,” Junsu runs his tongue from Yoochun’s heart down to his head, “of worship.” And then swallows it.
Yoochun has the feeling that he’s just been made fun of, but can’t complain about the punchline. He hangs onto the headboard to keep his hands out of Junsu’s hair. He loves to feel the curve of Junsu’s skull under his hands, but he also knows he doesn’t always have the self-control not to hang on too hard. The fact that he can hardly breathe gives him the hint that this is most likely one of those times. He arches into Junsu’s mouth, tries not to moan so loud as to be heard through the walls. Unlike others in this house.
The heat leaves him far, far too soon, but any breath of protest is stolen by Junsu. Junsu is kissing him. Like he *means* it. Yoochun releases his grip to find something more solid to hang onto, but Junsu catches his wrists and places his hands back on the pillow above his head. It is a request; Junsu lets go almost instantly, and Yoochun complies. He will do anything. He will always do anything for Junsu.
“My adoration,” Junsu whispers into Yoochun’s ear as he nuzzles his way down Yoochun’s neck. His hands skim down Yoochun’s sides, fingers spread wide, almost cupping his rib cage. “My devotion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My scorchingly sexy god.”
“You’ve been bouncing the football off your head again, haven’t you?”
“Shut up.”
“Is that any way for an acolyte to speak to his master?”
Junsu sits up, trapping Yoochun’s erection under his ass, providing just enough pressure to be maddening. He runs his fingers through his hair, partially to push it out of his eyes, partially because he knows it drives Yoochun wild. “I knew that’s why you liked that idea.”
“Shut up.”
A quick roll to the side, tips Junsu-giggling Junsu-back onto the mattress. Yoochun keeps going, back to the position where he can rest his elbows just above Junsu’s shoulders. He cups Junsu’s jaw, uses his thumbs to trace his cheekbones. The giggling stops, but Junsu’s smile gets brighter. “You are so beautiful, I can’t breathe,” Yoochun says, helpless to prevent stupid things like that from coming out of his mouth.
“But you’re talking,” Junsu says, not laughing, watching Yoochun’s lips with intent focus.
“Shut up,” Yoochun whispers as he lowers his head, then kisses Junsu like *he* means it. Which he does. Each and every time. But sometimes it’s different.
He has the feeling that the reason why this night is different is important. But the feeling isn’t as strong as the feeling of Junsu’s arms, wrapped tight around him. Of Junsu’s mouth, hot and clinging as Yoochun tries to catch his breath between kisses. Of Junsu’s cock pushing hard against his belly or of Junsu’s leg wrapping over his hip. Yoochun pulls back to confirm the plan for the night and, oh yeah, there’s a smile the world has *never* seen.
“If Changmin has raided the condom stash, I’ll kill him myself,” Yoochun mutters as he reaches into the drawer.
“He wouldn’t have dared.” And if *that* expression is ever captured, Junsu’s image of the sweet, gentle boy will be shot to hell.
Yoochun’s still searching for the small bottle he knows is in there, when Junsu growls, “Hurry up. The condom’s lubricated.”
“You would never accept that as good enough in my place,” Yoochun says, sitting up, successful in his search.
“That’s different.”
“How is that different?”
“Are we going to argue about this *now*?”
The question becomes rhetorical as Yoochun slides two slick fingers inside with perfect aim and Junsu’s eyes roll back in his head. Since he plans on being here a little while at least, Yoochun leans over and licks the length of Junsu’s cock. He hears a soft cry, and looks up as he twists his wrist and takes the head between his lips. The next sound is a gasp and then silence. Yoochun reaches up with his other hand and places it on Junsu’s chest, just a gentle reminder that there are lungs in the general vicinity and that they are often useful. He takes Junsu in deeper, and Junsu releases his breath as Yoochun starts up an easy rhythm, one complimented by the movement of his fingers. As Junsu fills further, his other hand is needed, but then so is more lube, so he releases Junsu completely in favour of continuing preparations.
“You left.”
The sound is so forlorn, Yoochun nuzzles at Junsu’s cock again before asking, “Do you want to do this instead?” He slides his freshly slicked fingers back in and places a wet kiss below the head.
“No.” The answer is firm, and so is Junsu’s grip on Yoochun’s free hand, urging him up Junsu’s body. “No. I want you.”
Yoochun takes back his hand and focuses hard on the last step: getting the condom on and adding an extra coating of lubrication. Junsu’s voice keeps echoing in his head and if he looks at Junsu now, he’ll be lost. It’s always the simplest phrases that get him.
“Yoochun.”
And that one word, said in Junsu’s soft, sweet, sexy voice, never ever helps.
“I’ll turn over and you can pretend I’m somebody else?”
“WHAT!?!”
“Just checking.”
Bastard. Fucking smug, cheeky son of a bitch. With a grin on him that’s just begging to be licked off. But first things first. Yoochun pushes, slow but steady, and Junsu starts to pant before he’s halfway in. He doesn't plan on stopping unless he’s asked, but he watches carefully in case the discomfort tips into real pain. It never does, although Junsu’s head is rocking slowly on the pillow by the time he’s done. Yoochun feels a little guilt about pushing down harder on Junsu’s thighs, but he needs to be kissed. Badly.
Or maybe he just needs to breathe in Junsu, because gently brushing over the parted lips settles whatever was starting to churn in Yoochun’s gut. When Junsu’s lips reach to press against his, something else starts to want to move, and by the time Junsu has a two-handed grip on his hair, he is grateful for the anchor it provides. He’s never actually fucked Junsu, not in the sense of doing something *to* him, because Junsu can’t seem to simply take-he has to keep giving. He flexes, he caresses, he kisses, he whispers those damn words that make Yoochun have to rub his face into Junsu’s neck. Yoochun tries to be as generous, but sometimes he can’t and gets swept away in the sensations.
Not tonight.
Tonight he has his own kisses he wants to give, a few little phrases he wants to say, but he’ll start with the easy stuff first. Even with Junsu making the world spin, Yoochun finds his balance and slides a hand between them. He echoes the growl Junsu makes into his mouth, and all good intentions of making this sweet and tender and full of whispered sentiments evaporate. Junsu may be the drummer but Yoochun knows this rhythm, the one that turns Junsu into a panting, writhing, sweat-slicked force of nature, and Yoochun knows which one of them is really the god, and which is the acolyte.
“Yoochun, your hand.... I can’t....”
“Don’t try. I want to watch you fall.” Yoochun holds Junsu’s stare, he can be stubborn too, then Junsu tightens his fists in Yoochun’s hair for a moment.
“Catch me.” It isn’t a request and Yoochun smiles at the trust.
An answering smile precedes Junsu closing his eyes. The tension subtly fighting Yoochun’s pace disappears, while the hold on Yoochun’s braced shoulder might leave bruises, but Yoochun can’t tear himself away from watching Junsu’s face. Which is good, it is telling him everything he needs to know - when he hits the right spot, when he has the right grip, when to go faster, when to squeeze harder. When to turn his head and brush his lips against the pulse at Junsu’s wrist. And when he looks back, Junsu is watching him.
“Fall with me.”
Damn words! “No. This one’s yours.” Yoochun wants to kiss him so bad, fall into his arms, into his body, but he is determined to give this to Junsu. Junsu runs his fingertips along the side of Yoochun’s face, then moves both hands to Yoochun’s arms and doesn’t fall, he dives. So much for fucking catching; it’s all Yoochun can to do hang on.
But he does. Because he will do anything. He rocks gently through the contractions around his cock, uses a slow, firm stroke with his now slick fist, and kisses every piece of skin that he can reach without getting in his own way. Then he stops, he has to stop, and watches as Junsu’s breathing eases and his eyes open.
“My turn,” Junsu whispers, smiling, and Yoochun lets Junsu catch him. It’s too easy to fall into Junsu, he’s always welcomed with enthusiasm. Junsu does most things with enthusiasm, but Yoochun has to admit he’s probably experienced the height. Junsu’s hands, his mouth, and, oh God, how can he still have the coordination to squeeze like that?! Yoochun closes his eyes and trusts he’ll survive the tumble.
How he actually ends up on the mattress is, as usual, a blur. Catching is less of a euphemism than it should be. But Junsu’s arms are around him and the sooner he gets rid of the condom the sooner the rest will be touching him as well. One hand finds a tissue to protect the bedside table, while the other pulls Junsu close. “That was so good,” Junsu murmurs as he finds a comfortable spot tucked under Yoochun’s chin. “I’m glad you stayed tonight.”
“I think I’ve pretty much moved in here. Haven’t changed the sheets on my own bed in a month.”
“I meant at the party.”
And there it is. All the stuff Yoochun has been avoiding by focusing on Junsu’s body, Junsu’s pleasure, gets dumped in front of him in a big pile.
He’d liked-been blown away by-Changmin’s kisses, the feel of his hands, the still growing strength of his body. He hadn’t hesitated at the suggestion of more. The plan had been to just tell someone, anyone, that they were going, but the idea of Junsu being left alone.... And when Junsu smiled at him when he brushed by him after returning.... And the relief that Yunho and Jaejoong could tell Changmin, thereby keeping him out of range, because Changmin is...mmmm. Yet here he is with tears in his eyes, unable to finish a sentence in his own head.
“You’re spacier than usual tonight. Where do you keep going, Yoochun?”
“Back to you it seems.”
Junsu pulls back, and his brow furrows as he lifts his hand and teases Yoochun’s eyelashes with his thumb, coaxing a tear loose. “And that thought makes you cry?”
Idiot. Really, sometimes.... Idiot. “No, that thought makes my heart so full it hurts.”
“Oh.” So soft, so warm, both the sound and Junsu’s touch in the middle of his chest. Then Junsu raises his eyebrow and lowers his hand. “Anything else filling?”
Yoochun grabs Junsu’s wandering hand and pulls him close again. “Five...no, ten minutes’ complete rest. That isn’t too much to ask. We’re not all Super ‘Su.”
“What are we going to do for ten whole minutes?” Junsu whines against Yoochun’s shoulder. Then he pulls back again. “I know. You can tell me about Changmin.”
“No.” Oh, no, no, no. Not good.
“Come on. The looks passing between the two of you almost set fire to the tablecloths. And you looked very kissed when you came back into the party.”
“I did not.”
“You really did. Almost dragged you into a dark room myself so no one else could drool over those sexy lips.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Yoochun briefly considers using the pillow, has an interesting flash of actually gagging Junsu properly, but eventually settles for what he knows he is being dared to do. He settles on Junsu’s lips, very lightly, tickling, teasing so that Junsu begins to reach for him. They cling, caress, taste along the edges. Very quickly he finds himself again on that exhilarating ride which is always familiar, but always changing. And maybe that's why he keeps coming back; Junsu's a dare he has yet to get tired of taking.