[fic] among the brightest of stars
among the brightest of stars
rating: nc-17
pairing: jaejoong/yoochun
summary: yoochun doesn’t mark his territory; he writes love songs on jaejoong’s skin where no one else but them can see.
word count: 1,565
comments: sentimental pwp for my fav unnie. i started writing as soon as i got up at 10am, missed big bang's comeback show, and finished at noon (that's how much the idea was driving me batty). idk but i think i'm proud of this? jaechun are my otp and they just seem to write themselves, so much that i wrote this to complete silence, which pretty much never happens to me.
There’s an unspoken competition between the two of them.
When they go out together, it’s like a fight to see who can be the most feral, who can give the most meaningless smirks and have the most naïve eyes turned to him, the most hands running over his body. Every time it starts, Yoochun thinks he’ll lose, because he can’t help but glance at Jaejoong and Jaejoong is beautiful, so beautiful he can’t even find the words to express it (and god knows he’s tried, with all the scrapped songs that are hidden under his mattress because it’s too hard to write the world onto paper).
But somehow his pride keeps him going. He gives Jaejoong one last defiant look that has so many underlying messages neither of them can count, though they both understand, even as Yoochun’s arms snake around narrow waists. He thinks of Jaejoong’s, and how narrow his are too. He whispers into soft, perfumed necks and steals a glance across the room, counts the pairs of legs that are just waiting to open for Jaejoong, realizes that he’s falling behind.
It goes on like this, Yoochun dragging willing bodies over to the back of the room to sit and better brush his fingers against skin, arms and thighs and shoulders and lips that only enter his mind as Jaejoong’s, because it’s the only way he can do this, by pretending that they’re all him, just him.
He does it because he knows Jaejoong is watching, because he knows how Yoochun works, as if he’d mapped out his every feeling after the years so that he can predict him now, sometimes even play the right keys that’ll make Yoochun fall all around him. It’s what they both want, and they’ve never even had to tell.
The next time their eyes meet, Jaejoong’s are unusually dark and Yoochun knows it’s a sign, taking a dainty hand that’s too small to pass as Jaejoong’s in his and pulling it with him to the entrance. That’s when he realizes Jaejoong has stood up, too, but alone, and he lets go of the hand to leave by his side, completely aware of what it means.
They move in the darkness of the night and Yoochun feels rough hands push him against the wall, a body his size pressed up against him as Jaejoong crushes their lips together, all in an instant. He feels dizzy, though he’s not sure if it’s because his head hit the bricks a bit too hard or because Jaejoong is kissing him a little too breathless-after too many happenings of the latter, he figures it’s a little bit of both, because his eyes flutter shut as he feels a throbbing at the back of his head that’s oddly similar to the beating of his heart.
“You win,” Jaejoong whispers against his lips then, voice a little breathier, a little lower than usual. Yoochun is sure of it because Jaejoong’s voice is a solfeggio where he can tell apart every single semitone on instinct, playing off its sound in the same way Jaejoong plays off the looks in his eyes.
Jaejoong’s hand is the next he takes, because tasting his lips has already completely changed the course of the night, though he’s not sure if it had already been drawn out for them in advance. They might be a little predictable, Yoochun thinks, but he feels that tonight is different somehow, especially when Jaejoong pushes him down on a bed-he’s not sure whose it is, maybe Changmin’s, or Yunho’s, or his own. He should be able to tell from the faint traces of shampoo smell left on the pillows but he can’t, not this time, because he only breathes Jaejoong, lives him through the touch of his fingers on soft skin, because his mind can only whisper one name, the same way it always has. Briefly, he hears his own name fall from Jaejoong’s lips, and kisses them quiet; smiling with the realization that maybe it’s the same for him.
Somehow, they’re not in a hurry. Not because they know they’re alone until morning and that no one will interrupt them, but because it doesn’t matter whether they’re alone or not. They’ve created a world that’s only theirs and closed themselves off inside it with a single look, fingers brushing over their hearts as they peel each other’s clothes off.
Soon they’re only feeling skin, Yoochun mouthing love songs against Jaejoong’s neck, and Jaejoong’s answer to the words he was never able to write is his lips around his cock, chasing hundreds of jumbled up sentences from his heart with his fingers splayed over his hips. Yoochun arches, burying his hands in Jaejoong’s hair as his tongue runs like silk over him and makes him fall apart, and it leaves his erection to slide inside his waiting mouth. Tasting himself on Jaejoong makes Yoochun feel like this all is an agreement that they belong to each other, but it’s not; the words Jaejoong whispers in his ear are, as he pulls a bottle of lube from under the pillow Yoochun head is resting on.
(They’re in Jaejoong’s bed, Yoochun concludes.)
He keeps kissing Yoochun as he slicks his own fingers and pulls away as he moves them down his body. Falling into the habit of pleasing the audience, he makes a show of pressing one against his entrance, soft sounds spilling from his lips when he finally pushes inside, knuckle-deep. Yoochun drinks it all in, brushing his fingers against Jaejoong’s thighs as he watches him open himself up, sliding two more fingers in as his heavy-lidded gaze never leaves Yoochun, urged on by the look of desire in his eyes.
After a moment that seems to stretch on for hours, Yoochun can’t take it anymore-it’s what Jaejoong was aiming for, driving him insane with lust so that he grabs his arms and pushes him backwards, head at the foot of the bed as he spreads Jaejoong’s legs apart.
They kiss again, once, as Jaejoong uses what’s left of lube on his fingers to slick Yoochun’s cock, and his hand is pushed away when Yoochun replaces it with his own to guide himself inside him. Their breaths and moans echo in his ears like the most beautiful melody as Jaejoong gives his arm a light squeeze to urge him on, and he knows he doesn’t have to hold back, thrusting inside him rough and hard. Jaejoong loves it, if the way he moans and tightens around him is anything to go by; but Yoochun comes first when Jaejoong rakes his nails down his back, spilling inside with all his pent up desire for him from the second they stepped inside the bar.
Yoochun smiles at the disappointed sounds Jaejoong makes when he pulls out, kissing him with a whisper of all the feelings it took so long for him to put into words. He runs his lips and tongue down Jaejoong’s body slowly, wanting to taste every inch of his skin, presses a kiss to his neglected erection before taking it all in with one swift motion. Jaejoong grows louder and more appreciative; it urges Yoochun on, and he sucks almost greedily, sliding three fingers inside him before even realizes what’s going on.
Soon Jaejoong is writhing underneath him, torn between pushing up into his mouth or down against his fingers, but Yoochun keeps his hips in place with his free hand. He curls his fingers inside him and searches, bobbing his head up and down slowly until Jaejoong cries out louder than before. He knows he’s found what he was looking for and twists his wrist so that Jaejoong’s thighs shake against him, and his only warning is the way Jaejoong grips at his hair, speechless, coming inside Yoochun’s mouth and he swallows everything, licks him clean as he pulls out his fingers.
Jaejoong is panting when he nudges Yoochun’s shoulder to tell him to come back up and he does, lets him snake a hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer and kiss him as if the world was ending. But Yoochun knows what it means, knows that Jaejoong feels complete only in moments like this because so does he, and it’s better if those words are left unspoken, because it’s like they’d lose power if they were expressed.
Yoochun’s eyes are closed when Jaejoong slides off the bed to go into the bathroom, opening them when he comes back, smiling in the doorway. His eyes are like the starry sky and Yoochun can’t help but tiredly smile back. He notices that he’s left marks on Jaejoong’s body without knowing, on his neck and chest and hips, and Jaejoong looks at them as well, understanding.
It’s like Yoochun’s fingers and lips knew that everyone would look at him again once they came out of the room, because Jaejoong is beautiful, and the only way he can stand all those eyes on him is by leaving marks like this. Yoochun doesn’t mark his territory; he writes love songs on Jaejoong’s skin where no one else but them can see.
Jaejoong shines the brightest, and Yoochun doesn’t, not one bit; instead he’s dark and unnoticed next to him. He doesn’t mind, as long as Jaejoong lets himself be covered up with his shadows from time to time.
rating: nc-17
pairing: jaejoong/yoochun
summary: yoochun doesn’t mark his territory; he writes love songs on jaejoong’s skin where no one else but them can see.
word count: 1,565
comments: sentimental pwp for my fav unnie. i started writing as soon as i got up at 10am, missed big bang's comeback show, and finished at noon (that's how much the idea was driving me batty). idk but i think i'm proud of this? jaechun are my otp and they just seem to write themselves, so much that i wrote this to complete silence, which pretty much never happens to me.
There’s an unspoken competition between the two of them.
When they go out together, it’s like a fight to see who can be the most feral, who can give the most meaningless smirks and have the most naïve eyes turned to him, the most hands running over his body. Every time it starts, Yoochun thinks he’ll lose, because he can’t help but glance at Jaejoong and Jaejoong is beautiful, so beautiful he can’t even find the words to express it (and god knows he’s tried, with all the scrapped songs that are hidden under his mattress because it’s too hard to write the world onto paper).
But somehow his pride keeps him going. He gives Jaejoong one last defiant look that has so many underlying messages neither of them can count, though they both understand, even as Yoochun’s arms snake around narrow waists. He thinks of Jaejoong’s, and how narrow his are too. He whispers into soft, perfumed necks and steals a glance across the room, counts the pairs of legs that are just waiting to open for Jaejoong, realizes that he’s falling behind.
It goes on like this, Yoochun dragging willing bodies over to the back of the room to sit and better brush his fingers against skin, arms and thighs and shoulders and lips that only enter his mind as Jaejoong’s, because it’s the only way he can do this, by pretending that they’re all him, just him.
He does it because he knows Jaejoong is watching, because he knows how Yoochun works, as if he’d mapped out his every feeling after the years so that he can predict him now, sometimes even play the right keys that’ll make Yoochun fall all around him. It’s what they both want, and they’ve never even had to tell.
The next time their eyes meet, Jaejoong’s are unusually dark and Yoochun knows it’s a sign, taking a dainty hand that’s too small to pass as Jaejoong’s in his and pulling it with him to the entrance. That’s when he realizes Jaejoong has stood up, too, but alone, and he lets go of the hand to leave by his side, completely aware of what it means.
They move in the darkness of the night and Yoochun feels rough hands push him against the wall, a body his size pressed up against him as Jaejoong crushes their lips together, all in an instant. He feels dizzy, though he’s not sure if it’s because his head hit the bricks a bit too hard or because Jaejoong is kissing him a little too breathless-after too many happenings of the latter, he figures it’s a little bit of both, because his eyes flutter shut as he feels a throbbing at the back of his head that’s oddly similar to the beating of his heart.
“You win,” Jaejoong whispers against his lips then, voice a little breathier, a little lower than usual. Yoochun is sure of it because Jaejoong’s voice is a solfeggio where he can tell apart every single semitone on instinct, playing off its sound in the same way Jaejoong plays off the looks in his eyes.
Jaejoong’s hand is the next he takes, because tasting his lips has already completely changed the course of the night, though he’s not sure if it had already been drawn out for them in advance. They might be a little predictable, Yoochun thinks, but he feels that tonight is different somehow, especially when Jaejoong pushes him down on a bed-he’s not sure whose it is, maybe Changmin’s, or Yunho’s, or his own. He should be able to tell from the faint traces of shampoo smell left on the pillows but he can’t, not this time, because he only breathes Jaejoong, lives him through the touch of his fingers on soft skin, because his mind can only whisper one name, the same way it always has. Briefly, he hears his own name fall from Jaejoong’s lips, and kisses them quiet; smiling with the realization that maybe it’s the same for him.
Somehow, they’re not in a hurry. Not because they know they’re alone until morning and that no one will interrupt them, but because it doesn’t matter whether they’re alone or not. They’ve created a world that’s only theirs and closed themselves off inside it with a single look, fingers brushing over their hearts as they peel each other’s clothes off.
Soon they’re only feeling skin, Yoochun mouthing love songs against Jaejoong’s neck, and Jaejoong’s answer to the words he was never able to write is his lips around his cock, chasing hundreds of jumbled up sentences from his heart with his fingers splayed over his hips. Yoochun arches, burying his hands in Jaejoong’s hair as his tongue runs like silk over him and makes him fall apart, and it leaves his erection to slide inside his waiting mouth. Tasting himself on Jaejoong makes Yoochun feel like this all is an agreement that they belong to each other, but it’s not; the words Jaejoong whispers in his ear are, as he pulls a bottle of lube from under the pillow Yoochun head is resting on.
(They’re in Jaejoong’s bed, Yoochun concludes.)
He keeps kissing Yoochun as he slicks his own fingers and pulls away as he moves them down his body. Falling into the habit of pleasing the audience, he makes a show of pressing one against his entrance, soft sounds spilling from his lips when he finally pushes inside, knuckle-deep. Yoochun drinks it all in, brushing his fingers against Jaejoong’s thighs as he watches him open himself up, sliding two more fingers in as his heavy-lidded gaze never leaves Yoochun, urged on by the look of desire in his eyes.
After a moment that seems to stretch on for hours, Yoochun can’t take it anymore-it’s what Jaejoong was aiming for, driving him insane with lust so that he grabs his arms and pushes him backwards, head at the foot of the bed as he spreads Jaejoong’s legs apart.
They kiss again, once, as Jaejoong uses what’s left of lube on his fingers to slick Yoochun’s cock, and his hand is pushed away when Yoochun replaces it with his own to guide himself inside him. Their breaths and moans echo in his ears like the most beautiful melody as Jaejoong gives his arm a light squeeze to urge him on, and he knows he doesn’t have to hold back, thrusting inside him rough and hard. Jaejoong loves it, if the way he moans and tightens around him is anything to go by; but Yoochun comes first when Jaejoong rakes his nails down his back, spilling inside with all his pent up desire for him from the second they stepped inside the bar.
Yoochun smiles at the disappointed sounds Jaejoong makes when he pulls out, kissing him with a whisper of all the feelings it took so long for him to put into words. He runs his lips and tongue down Jaejoong’s body slowly, wanting to taste every inch of his skin, presses a kiss to his neglected erection before taking it all in with one swift motion. Jaejoong grows louder and more appreciative; it urges Yoochun on, and he sucks almost greedily, sliding three fingers inside him before even realizes what’s going on.
Soon Jaejoong is writhing underneath him, torn between pushing up into his mouth or down against his fingers, but Yoochun keeps his hips in place with his free hand. He curls his fingers inside him and searches, bobbing his head up and down slowly until Jaejoong cries out louder than before. He knows he’s found what he was looking for and twists his wrist so that Jaejoong’s thighs shake against him, and his only warning is the way Jaejoong grips at his hair, speechless, coming inside Yoochun’s mouth and he swallows everything, licks him clean as he pulls out his fingers.
Jaejoong is panting when he nudges Yoochun’s shoulder to tell him to come back up and he does, lets him snake a hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer and kiss him as if the world was ending. But Yoochun knows what it means, knows that Jaejoong feels complete only in moments like this because so does he, and it’s better if those words are left unspoken, because it’s like they’d lose power if they were expressed.
Yoochun’s eyes are closed when Jaejoong slides off the bed to go into the bathroom, opening them when he comes back, smiling in the doorway. His eyes are like the starry sky and Yoochun can’t help but tiredly smile back. He notices that he’s left marks on Jaejoong’s body without knowing, on his neck and chest and hips, and Jaejoong looks at them as well, understanding.
It’s like Yoochun’s fingers and lips knew that everyone would look at him again once they came out of the room, because Jaejoong is beautiful, and the only way he can stand all those eyes on him is by leaving marks like this. Yoochun doesn’t mark his territory; he writes love songs on Jaejoong’s skin where no one else but them can see.
Jaejoong shines the brightest, and Yoochun doesn’t, not one bit; instead he’s dark and unnoticed next to him. He doesn’t mind, as long as Jaejoong lets himself be covered up with his shadows from time to time.