[FIC] Low-Life, High-strung (8/12)
Title: Low-life, High-strung (8/12)
Pairing: Everyone/Jaejoong
Length: 2,776w (20,369 total)
Summary: Jaejoong, a successful internet porn star, returns to his estranged family after the death of his mother leaves some loose ends.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
L O W - L I F E , H I G H - S T R U N G
8.
The therapist spoke Japanese, and every time Jaejoong stumbled over an expression he frowned deeply, drawing conclusions, as though Jaejoong's command of the language was an indicator of his mental health. His office was cramped with furniture, one entire wall hidden behind the dominating presence of his desk. The chairs were overstuffed, and Jaejoong felt like he was being swallowed when he sat down, engulfed by the brown leather. The office was designed to be intimidating, situated at the end of a long and bare corridor in a secluded corner of the school, and Jaejoong certainly felt intimidated.
"Jaejoong-sshi," the therapist drawled, sucking on the end of his pen, "tell me about your brother."
Jaejoong shrugged.
"Are you two close?"
"Yes."
"Do you love your brother?"
Jaejoong knew where this line of questioning led. He fisted his hands into his sleeves and nodded. He wanted to sit cross-legged, maybe curl into foetal position, but on his first session the therapist had warned him not to rest his shoes on the furniture. He tried to make himself as small as possible without unglueing his sneakers from the floor.
"I understand that you came to this school because of a situation related to your brother. Your mother gave me some of the details, but I would rather hear it from you."
"What did she tell you?" Jaejoong asked.
"Her side of the story isn't important," the therapist said. His smile looked sleepy; it didn't reach his eyes. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"
Again, Jaejoong shrugged. He started chewing on a thumbnail, giving in to a habit he broke years ago.
The therapist glanced at the clock. "Our discussions are supposed to run for an hour, Jaejoong, but if you need more time to talk, then I'll be happy to write you a notice to excuse you from class until the afternoon." It was a threat: I'll keep you here until you tell me what I want to hear.
Jaejoong swallowed heavily. "My brother..."
"Yes?"
"I had sex with my brother."
The therapist sat back with a self-satisfied look. "Just once?"
"No." Jaejoong stared at his hands in his lap, tangling his fingers together. "More than once."
"I see. Incest is very serious," the therapist said, "and often indicative of previous sexual abuse. Did anyone ever touch you inappropriately as a child?"
Jaejoong pulled his hands apart, cracking his knuckles. "I was nine."
"And your brother, what about him?"
Jaejoong whipped his head from side-to-side. He would have killed anyone who touched Junsu like that. "No, never."
"Really? He's younger than you, isn't he?"
Jaejoong felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. The air was sucked out of his lungs. He nodded slowly, careful, all too aware of the trap he was being led into.
"How old was he when the two of you had your first sexual experience?"
"Thirteen," Jaejoong whispered.
"Pardon?"
Jaejoong couldn't speak up. He managed the volume of a stage-whisper, all air and no voice. "He was thirteen."
The therapist coughed into his sleeve, and slid forward to the edge of his seat. He leaned his elbows on his knees, lowering his head to eye-level. "That's very young. And as his older brother, he must have trusted you."
Jaejoong opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak.
"Did you ever take advantage of your younger brother, Jaejoong?"
All of the breath gushed out of Jaejoong's lungs at once. He gulped for air, and when none came he was overcame with panic, I can't breathe, I can't breathe. He wanted to cry, but couldn't. He just sat there, buried in the leather chair, gasping for air.
~
Jaejoong looked at the number on the back of the card. Dialed it. Hung up without pressing 'send'. He put the card in his pants' pocket and went downstairs. He might go for jog in the rain; if the ink didn't run, he would take it as a sign and call the number. He might also get pneumonia, but sometimes Jaejoong didn't think it would be so bad to get sick. He could stay in bed for days. He wouldn't have to deal with anyone or anything.
In the lobby he put his sunglasses on, overly conscious of his bloodshot eyes. He couldn't stand still. He changed direction mid-step, pivoting halfway to the door, and went to the public phones. Instead of calling the number on the back of the business card, he called Yoochun.
On the fourth ring it occurred to Jaejoong that Yoochun might have changed his number in the past five years. He was about to hang up when a breathless voice answered, almost shouting, "Hello!"
Jaejoong wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "Hey, Chunnie."
"Jaejoong." Yoochun didn't sound impressed. "What's up?"
"I'm at the hotel," Jaejoong said. He glanced over his shoulder and turned back around quickly, cradling the phone to his collarbone and shielding it from view. "I just felt like calling. I'm rescheduling my flight to Seoul. I have a shoot that got moved, so I'm going back early. Tomorrow, maybe."
It was a lie. Jaejoong was always lying when he got high. It was like a nervous tic. He knew it was happening, but he was helpless to stop.
"Junsu told me about the inheritance," Yoochun said.
Jaejoong leaned his forehead against the pay phone. "Yeah."
"He said you're cutting yourself out. You don't want anything to do with the company."
"Yeah."
"You're a fucking idiot."
A million people had probably spread their germs where Jaejoong was touching his bare forehead. It grossed him out, but not as much as it should have. He exhaled, blowing his bangs out of his face. "Yeah."
"Is that all you have to say about it?"
Jaejoong gave a little snort of laughter. "Yeah."
"Why? Junsu is pretty fucking upset. He thought you'd at least have the decency to give him a good reason."
"I have to be back in Seoul," Jaejoong said. It was an excuse and everyone knew it. Jaejoong could have taken the shares, worked a few years, and retired early. He could have bought a beach house in Bora Bora and lived the rest of his days on sun and surf, without a thought devoted to money or work.
Yoochun didn't dignify that with a response. He was silent for a moment, and then said, "What did you call me for?"
"I want to see you," Jaejoong said, but that was a lie too. Yoochun was another reminder of how much he'd fucked up Junsu's life. Yoochun and Junsu could have been a couple if it weren't for him. Yoochun would know how to make Junsu happy.
Jaejoong wanted to see Yoochun the same way that people want to see car crashes; it scares them, but some sick part of them makes them keep looking.
"I can't," Yoochun said, "not tonight. I'm busy tonight."
"Tomorrow."
"I thought you said you were flying back tomorrow."
Jaejoong cussed. "I haven't called yet. I'll fly back on Friday."
Yoochun made an affirmative noise, a hum between pressed lips. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. But Jae?"
"Uh huh?"
"We're staying sober. Last time... that was..." That was fucked up. You're a mess. You're a fucking mess.
Jaejoong pressed the phone tight between his cheek and shoulder. "Yeah, okay. Deal."
"Call me tomorrow, Jae."
"Yeah. I will. After I meet with Junsu's lawyers. We'll have dinner."
"Sounds good." Yoochun sighed, his breath loud in Jaejoong's ear. "Take care of yourself, Jae. See you."
"Okay. Bye."
Jaejoong hung up the phone harder than necessary, slamming it down to hear the ring echo indignantly back at him. There was no one waiting to use the phone, just an old woman loitering near the doors. After a moment, Jaejoong took the business card out of his pocket and dialed the ballpoint number.
The voice that answered after the first ring was deep and professional. "Good afternoon."
"It's me," Jaejoong said.
Yunho cleared his throat. "Youngw-- Jaejoong. I'm just about to step into a meeting. Can I call you back?"
"No," Jaejoong said. "This isn't my number. I'm in the lobby of the hotel. Can you come to my room after?"
"Uh, yeah. Of course. I didn't think you'd call so soon. What was the room number again?"
Jaejoong relayed his room information, reading off his keycard.
"Okay. I'll be an hour or two."
"That's fine. I'll wait."
Yunho said a quick goodbye, and Jaejoong echoed it back to him before hanging up.
~
When Yunho got to the hotel room, Jaejoong was half-dressed and manic. He hung off the door as he opened it, and his grin was a little too wide. "In, in," he said, and Yunho stepped into the hotel room for the second time.
The duvet had been pulled back and the bed stripped of sheets. The linen sat in a pile on the floor. Despite the no-smoking signs, there was an ash tray by the window caked with cigarette butts, and Jaejoong's suitcase was open on the floor, clothes and ziploc bags spilling out of it. Jaejoong waved his hand at the mess and didn't offer an explanation, just shrugged. He disappeared into the bathroom and gestured for Yunho to follow.
The bathroom, at least, was clean. Jaejoong covered something on the counter with a towel and sat on the edge of the sink, pulling Yunho to stand between his thighs. He kissed the corner of Yunho's mouth.
"You're high," Yunho said.
Jaejoong grunted. "And it's not helping. I want you to fuck me. Call me names. Rough me up. Need it so bad." He nipped at Yunho's jaw, and his hands dipped under Yunho's shirt, tracing the contours of his abs up to his sternum.
Yunho pulled Jaejoong's hands away from his chest, and took a step back, not without effort. He straightened his shirt and tried to force his breath to come evenly. "I won't do it if you aren't sober. It's not safe. It's stupid. You should know that, Jaejoong."
Jaejoong gave him a funny look, and pulled his hands out of Yunho's hold. He jumped down from the counter and brushed past him, sitting down heavily on the toilet lid. After a moment he said, "I can't make myself cry like you did."
Yunho frowned. "What?"
"I keep trying. I think about it all the time, all this fucked up stuff, and I should be crying. A normal person, I think, would cry. But I can't do it."
"Why do you need to cry?"
Jaejoong bit his lip. "Doesn't everyone sometimes? Don't you?"
Yunho shrugged. "Sometimes. I don't force it."
"When was the last time you cried?"
Yunho sat down with his back to the door, stretching his legs out across the tile floor. "A few months ago, I think. I was really stressed out with work, and one thing after another kept piling up." He shrugged. "I lost a big case. It wasn't really my fault -- there was nothing I could have done differently -- but the pressure got to me."
"Did you feel better afterwards?"
"I guess so." Yunho shrugged. "It doesn't change anything, but it's a way to get it out of your system."
Jaejoong nodded. "I need to get it out of my system."
"You need to get more than that out of your system," Yunho said, eyeing the way that Jaejoong fidgeted and worried at his lip. Jaejoong laughed, but nodded in agreement.
"I'll tell you what," Yunho went on. He gestured for Jaejoong to come to him and he did, sitting between Yunho's legs and resting his head under Yunho's chin. "I'll stay here with you while you sleep it off, and if you still want to be roughed up in the morning, we can go from there."
"That's fair." Jaejoong tilted his head up. "Can we kiss?" He rubbed his cheek on the stubble along Yunho's jaw, eyes closed. "Changmin never lets me kiss him. I miss kissing."
His lips parted in anticipation, and Yunho couldn't help giving in. Jaejoong clutched at his shirt, and Yunho guided their mouths together, strong and firm, just the press of lip-on-lip. He did that over and over, denying any attemp to deepen the kiss. When Jaejoong's tongue pressed against Yunho's lips, Yunho touched their tongues together briefly, but didn't open his mouth. Jaejoong was shaking when he pulled away.
"Shower with me?" Jaejoong asked, his breath hot on Yunho's face.
Yunho shook his head. "No, I'm keeping my clothes on. I'll run you a bath instead."
It didn't take much coaxing to get Jaejoong into the tub. Yunho rolled up his sleeves and worked shampoo through Jaejoong's hair, crouching next to the bath tub with his elbows on the ledge. Jaejoong closed his eyes and murmured something appreciative, and moaned when Yunho's fingers began massaging the back of his neck.
"Why are you so good to me?" Jaejoong whispered. "You barely know me."
Yunho twirled Jaejoong's hair into a twist, which stood straight up for a moment before starting to fall flat. "I don't know," Yunho admitted. "You look like you need someone to take care of you."
Jaejoong laughed. "You know, you're probably right." He let his chin drop to his chest as Yunho's fingers worked lower, thumbs pressing into the knots in his shoulders. "It's been a long time since I had someone like that," he said. He laughed, but it wasn't really a happy sound. "Used to have Junsu."
"When you were kids?"
Jaejoong nodded, but didn't elaborate. "Feels weird," he muttered, as Yunho's hands slid down to his collarbones and massaged the muscles of his throat. "Don't really get touched there often. Not like that."
"You don't like it?" Yunho stilled his hands, his palm resting over Jaejoong's Adam's apple.
"No, s'nice." He moaned as Yunho continued, digging the tips of his fingers into the sensitive muscle, working at the kinks and knots and smoothing it out. "Might get me hard, though."
Yunho laughed and leaned forward to share a soapy kiss. "Don't. Just relax."
"I'll try."
Yunho stood up to get conditioner off the counter. He broke the seal on the one-use bottle and twisted the cap. Out of curiosity, he peeked under the towel that Jaejoong had placed over the counter. He wasn't surprised to see a straw and a dusting of white powder on the countertop. He tried not to sound like a father when he turned around. "Do most people in your profession do cocaine?"
Jaejoong cracked open an eye. "It's not uncommon," he said carefully.
"Do you ever get high before you film?"
The bathwater splashed as Jaejoong sat up, leaning on the edge of the tub. "Not really. I wouldn't be able to act the way I do on camera if I did."
Yunho frowned. He had liked to think that he knew what Jaejoong would be like in bed; he'd seen him naked and in a million different configurations, having sex with a hundred different people, and Jaejoong had always played the brat. He was feisty. He fought the bit, like a horse that needed to be broken in. When Yunho had the real thing in front of him -- not Youngwoong the actor -- he was surprised that Jaejoong played the opposite. He wanted to be scolded. He minded his manners. He wanted so badly to be corrected, to be punished.
It was a harsh reminder that adult film actors were still actors, first and foremost, and very little of what they showed on camera was real.
Yunho combed the conditioner through Jaejoong's hair with his fingers, and Jaejoong smirked when he apologized for pulling too hard. Once Jaejoong was rinsed and clean, he pulled the plug and Jaejoong wound himself in an oversized towel, pulling it over his shoulders like a shawl.
He looked beautiful dripping wet, with nothing on but his wide-eyed expression and terrycloth covering almost none of his skin. Yunho hurried him into the other room before he could change his mind and bend him over the counter.
Jaejoong ignored the sheets, and pulled just the duvet onto the bed, abandoning the towel and getting underneath the blanket. He held up a corner for Yunho.
"Aren't you going to put on some clothes?" Yunho asked.
Jaejoong smirked. "Nah. It'll be easier for you to take advantage of me in the morning if I'm already naked."
Yunho shook his head, and left his pants on as he climbed into bed next to Jaejoong. At this rate, he wasn't going to make it to morning.
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wynnetimate's master list.
Pairing: Everyone/Jaejoong
Length: 2,776w (20,369 total)
Summary: Jaejoong, a successful internet porn star, returns to his estranged family after the death of his mother leaves some loose ends.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
L O W - L I F E , H I G H - S T R U N G
8.
The therapist spoke Japanese, and every time Jaejoong stumbled over an expression he frowned deeply, drawing conclusions, as though Jaejoong's command of the language was an indicator of his mental health. His office was cramped with furniture, one entire wall hidden behind the dominating presence of his desk. The chairs were overstuffed, and Jaejoong felt like he was being swallowed when he sat down, engulfed by the brown leather. The office was designed to be intimidating, situated at the end of a long and bare corridor in a secluded corner of the school, and Jaejoong certainly felt intimidated.
"Jaejoong-sshi," the therapist drawled, sucking on the end of his pen, "tell me about your brother."
Jaejoong shrugged.
"Are you two close?"
"Yes."
"Do you love your brother?"
Jaejoong knew where this line of questioning led. He fisted his hands into his sleeves and nodded. He wanted to sit cross-legged, maybe curl into foetal position, but on his first session the therapist had warned him not to rest his shoes on the furniture. He tried to make himself as small as possible without unglueing his sneakers from the floor.
"I understand that you came to this school because of a situation related to your brother. Your mother gave me some of the details, but I would rather hear it from you."
"What did she tell you?" Jaejoong asked.
"Her side of the story isn't important," the therapist said. His smile looked sleepy; it didn't reach his eyes. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"
Again, Jaejoong shrugged. He started chewing on a thumbnail, giving in to a habit he broke years ago.
The therapist glanced at the clock. "Our discussions are supposed to run for an hour, Jaejoong, but if you need more time to talk, then I'll be happy to write you a notice to excuse you from class until the afternoon." It was a threat: I'll keep you here until you tell me what I want to hear.
Jaejoong swallowed heavily. "My brother..."
"Yes?"
"I had sex with my brother."
The therapist sat back with a self-satisfied look. "Just once?"
"No." Jaejoong stared at his hands in his lap, tangling his fingers together. "More than once."
"I see. Incest is very serious," the therapist said, "and often indicative of previous sexual abuse. Did anyone ever touch you inappropriately as a child?"
Jaejoong pulled his hands apart, cracking his knuckles. "I was nine."
"And your brother, what about him?"
Jaejoong whipped his head from side-to-side. He would have killed anyone who touched Junsu like that. "No, never."
"Really? He's younger than you, isn't he?"
Jaejoong felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. The air was sucked out of his lungs. He nodded slowly, careful, all too aware of the trap he was being led into.
"How old was he when the two of you had your first sexual experience?"
"Thirteen," Jaejoong whispered.
"Pardon?"
Jaejoong couldn't speak up. He managed the volume of a stage-whisper, all air and no voice. "He was thirteen."
The therapist coughed into his sleeve, and slid forward to the edge of his seat. He leaned his elbows on his knees, lowering his head to eye-level. "That's very young. And as his older brother, he must have trusted you."
Jaejoong opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak.
"Did you ever take advantage of your younger brother, Jaejoong?"
All of the breath gushed out of Jaejoong's lungs at once. He gulped for air, and when none came he was overcame with panic, I can't breathe, I can't breathe. He wanted to cry, but couldn't. He just sat there, buried in the leather chair, gasping for air.
~
Jaejoong looked at the number on the back of the card. Dialed it. Hung up without pressing 'send'. He put the card in his pants' pocket and went downstairs. He might go for jog in the rain; if the ink didn't run, he would take it as a sign and call the number. He might also get pneumonia, but sometimes Jaejoong didn't think it would be so bad to get sick. He could stay in bed for days. He wouldn't have to deal with anyone or anything.
In the lobby he put his sunglasses on, overly conscious of his bloodshot eyes. He couldn't stand still. He changed direction mid-step, pivoting halfway to the door, and went to the public phones. Instead of calling the number on the back of the business card, he called Yoochun.
On the fourth ring it occurred to Jaejoong that Yoochun might have changed his number in the past five years. He was about to hang up when a breathless voice answered, almost shouting, "Hello!"
Jaejoong wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "Hey, Chunnie."
"Jaejoong." Yoochun didn't sound impressed. "What's up?"
"I'm at the hotel," Jaejoong said. He glanced over his shoulder and turned back around quickly, cradling the phone to his collarbone and shielding it from view. "I just felt like calling. I'm rescheduling my flight to Seoul. I have a shoot that got moved, so I'm going back early. Tomorrow, maybe."
It was a lie. Jaejoong was always lying when he got high. It was like a nervous tic. He knew it was happening, but he was helpless to stop.
"Junsu told me about the inheritance," Yoochun said.
Jaejoong leaned his forehead against the pay phone. "Yeah."
"He said you're cutting yourself out. You don't want anything to do with the company."
"Yeah."
"You're a fucking idiot."
A million people had probably spread their germs where Jaejoong was touching his bare forehead. It grossed him out, but not as much as it should have. He exhaled, blowing his bangs out of his face. "Yeah."
"Is that all you have to say about it?"
Jaejoong gave a little snort of laughter. "Yeah."
"Why? Junsu is pretty fucking upset. He thought you'd at least have the decency to give him a good reason."
"I have to be back in Seoul," Jaejoong said. It was an excuse and everyone knew it. Jaejoong could have taken the shares, worked a few years, and retired early. He could have bought a beach house in Bora Bora and lived the rest of his days on sun and surf, without a thought devoted to money or work.
Yoochun didn't dignify that with a response. He was silent for a moment, and then said, "What did you call me for?"
"I want to see you," Jaejoong said, but that was a lie too. Yoochun was another reminder of how much he'd fucked up Junsu's life. Yoochun and Junsu could have been a couple if it weren't for him. Yoochun would know how to make Junsu happy.
Jaejoong wanted to see Yoochun the same way that people want to see car crashes; it scares them, but some sick part of them makes them keep looking.
"I can't," Yoochun said, "not tonight. I'm busy tonight."
"Tomorrow."
"I thought you said you were flying back tomorrow."
Jaejoong cussed. "I haven't called yet. I'll fly back on Friday."
Yoochun made an affirmative noise, a hum between pressed lips. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. But Jae?"
"Uh huh?"
"We're staying sober. Last time... that was..." That was fucked up. You're a mess. You're a fucking mess.
Jaejoong pressed the phone tight between his cheek and shoulder. "Yeah, okay. Deal."
"Call me tomorrow, Jae."
"Yeah. I will. After I meet with Junsu's lawyers. We'll have dinner."
"Sounds good." Yoochun sighed, his breath loud in Jaejoong's ear. "Take care of yourself, Jae. See you."
"Okay. Bye."
Jaejoong hung up the phone harder than necessary, slamming it down to hear the ring echo indignantly back at him. There was no one waiting to use the phone, just an old woman loitering near the doors. After a moment, Jaejoong took the business card out of his pocket and dialed the ballpoint number.
The voice that answered after the first ring was deep and professional. "Good afternoon."
"It's me," Jaejoong said.
Yunho cleared his throat. "Youngw-- Jaejoong. I'm just about to step into a meeting. Can I call you back?"
"No," Jaejoong said. "This isn't my number. I'm in the lobby of the hotel. Can you come to my room after?"
"Uh, yeah. Of course. I didn't think you'd call so soon. What was the room number again?"
Jaejoong relayed his room information, reading off his keycard.
"Okay. I'll be an hour or two."
"That's fine. I'll wait."
Yunho said a quick goodbye, and Jaejoong echoed it back to him before hanging up.
~
When Yunho got to the hotel room, Jaejoong was half-dressed and manic. He hung off the door as he opened it, and his grin was a little too wide. "In, in," he said, and Yunho stepped into the hotel room for the second time.
The duvet had been pulled back and the bed stripped of sheets. The linen sat in a pile on the floor. Despite the no-smoking signs, there was an ash tray by the window caked with cigarette butts, and Jaejoong's suitcase was open on the floor, clothes and ziploc bags spilling out of it. Jaejoong waved his hand at the mess and didn't offer an explanation, just shrugged. He disappeared into the bathroom and gestured for Yunho to follow.
The bathroom, at least, was clean. Jaejoong covered something on the counter with a towel and sat on the edge of the sink, pulling Yunho to stand between his thighs. He kissed the corner of Yunho's mouth.
"You're high," Yunho said.
Jaejoong grunted. "And it's not helping. I want you to fuck me. Call me names. Rough me up. Need it so bad." He nipped at Yunho's jaw, and his hands dipped under Yunho's shirt, tracing the contours of his abs up to his sternum.
Yunho pulled Jaejoong's hands away from his chest, and took a step back, not without effort. He straightened his shirt and tried to force his breath to come evenly. "I won't do it if you aren't sober. It's not safe. It's stupid. You should know that, Jaejoong."
Jaejoong gave him a funny look, and pulled his hands out of Yunho's hold. He jumped down from the counter and brushed past him, sitting down heavily on the toilet lid. After a moment he said, "I can't make myself cry like you did."
Yunho frowned. "What?"
"I keep trying. I think about it all the time, all this fucked up stuff, and I should be crying. A normal person, I think, would cry. But I can't do it."
"Why do you need to cry?"
Jaejoong bit his lip. "Doesn't everyone sometimes? Don't you?"
Yunho shrugged. "Sometimes. I don't force it."
"When was the last time you cried?"
Yunho sat down with his back to the door, stretching his legs out across the tile floor. "A few months ago, I think. I was really stressed out with work, and one thing after another kept piling up." He shrugged. "I lost a big case. It wasn't really my fault -- there was nothing I could have done differently -- but the pressure got to me."
"Did you feel better afterwards?"
"I guess so." Yunho shrugged. "It doesn't change anything, but it's a way to get it out of your system."
Jaejoong nodded. "I need to get it out of my system."
"You need to get more than that out of your system," Yunho said, eyeing the way that Jaejoong fidgeted and worried at his lip. Jaejoong laughed, but nodded in agreement.
"I'll tell you what," Yunho went on. He gestured for Jaejoong to come to him and he did, sitting between Yunho's legs and resting his head under Yunho's chin. "I'll stay here with you while you sleep it off, and if you still want to be roughed up in the morning, we can go from there."
"That's fair." Jaejoong tilted his head up. "Can we kiss?" He rubbed his cheek on the stubble along Yunho's jaw, eyes closed. "Changmin never lets me kiss him. I miss kissing."
His lips parted in anticipation, and Yunho couldn't help giving in. Jaejoong clutched at his shirt, and Yunho guided their mouths together, strong and firm, just the press of lip-on-lip. He did that over and over, denying any attemp to deepen the kiss. When Jaejoong's tongue pressed against Yunho's lips, Yunho touched their tongues together briefly, but didn't open his mouth. Jaejoong was shaking when he pulled away.
"Shower with me?" Jaejoong asked, his breath hot on Yunho's face.
Yunho shook his head. "No, I'm keeping my clothes on. I'll run you a bath instead."
It didn't take much coaxing to get Jaejoong into the tub. Yunho rolled up his sleeves and worked shampoo through Jaejoong's hair, crouching next to the bath tub with his elbows on the ledge. Jaejoong closed his eyes and murmured something appreciative, and moaned when Yunho's fingers began massaging the back of his neck.
"Why are you so good to me?" Jaejoong whispered. "You barely know me."
Yunho twirled Jaejoong's hair into a twist, which stood straight up for a moment before starting to fall flat. "I don't know," Yunho admitted. "You look like you need someone to take care of you."
Jaejoong laughed. "You know, you're probably right." He let his chin drop to his chest as Yunho's fingers worked lower, thumbs pressing into the knots in his shoulders. "It's been a long time since I had someone like that," he said. He laughed, but it wasn't really a happy sound. "Used to have Junsu."
"When you were kids?"
Jaejoong nodded, but didn't elaborate. "Feels weird," he muttered, as Yunho's hands slid down to his collarbones and massaged the muscles of his throat. "Don't really get touched there often. Not like that."
"You don't like it?" Yunho stilled his hands, his palm resting over Jaejoong's Adam's apple.
"No, s'nice." He moaned as Yunho continued, digging the tips of his fingers into the sensitive muscle, working at the kinks and knots and smoothing it out. "Might get me hard, though."
Yunho laughed and leaned forward to share a soapy kiss. "Don't. Just relax."
"I'll try."
Yunho stood up to get conditioner off the counter. He broke the seal on the one-use bottle and twisted the cap. Out of curiosity, he peeked under the towel that Jaejoong had placed over the counter. He wasn't surprised to see a straw and a dusting of white powder on the countertop. He tried not to sound like a father when he turned around. "Do most people in your profession do cocaine?"
Jaejoong cracked open an eye. "It's not uncommon," he said carefully.
"Do you ever get high before you film?"
The bathwater splashed as Jaejoong sat up, leaning on the edge of the tub. "Not really. I wouldn't be able to act the way I do on camera if I did."
Yunho frowned. He had liked to think that he knew what Jaejoong would be like in bed; he'd seen him naked and in a million different configurations, having sex with a hundred different people, and Jaejoong had always played the brat. He was feisty. He fought the bit, like a horse that needed to be broken in. When Yunho had the real thing in front of him -- not Youngwoong the actor -- he was surprised that Jaejoong played the opposite. He wanted to be scolded. He minded his manners. He wanted so badly to be corrected, to be punished.
It was a harsh reminder that adult film actors were still actors, first and foremost, and very little of what they showed on camera was real.
Yunho combed the conditioner through Jaejoong's hair with his fingers, and Jaejoong smirked when he apologized for pulling too hard. Once Jaejoong was rinsed and clean, he pulled the plug and Jaejoong wound himself in an oversized towel, pulling it over his shoulders like a shawl.
He looked beautiful dripping wet, with nothing on but his wide-eyed expression and terrycloth covering almost none of his skin. Yunho hurried him into the other room before he could change his mind and bend him over the counter.
Jaejoong ignored the sheets, and pulled just the duvet onto the bed, abandoning the towel and getting underneath the blanket. He held up a corner for Yunho.
"Aren't you going to put on some clothes?" Yunho asked.
Jaejoong smirked. "Nah. It'll be easier for you to take advantage of me in the morning if I'm already naked."
Yunho shook his head, and left his pants on as he climbed into bed next to Jaejoong. At this rate, he wasn't going to make it to morning.
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