Curtain Call
Title: Curtain Call
Pairings: OT5
Rating: pg-15 [nothing bad, just a couple of kisses and maybe a few licks and nips here and there =D ]
Genre: definitely angst
A/N: really really REALLY old fic. x-posted at the hug fic a long time ago. un-beta'd
It’s there, in the way they play with each other: the subtle, fleeting touches that are seemingly casual, but are too quick-too desperate-to be anything but. The hurried, nearly frantic whispers of sickeningly sweet promises uttered low in between shows and performances. It’s so hopeless, it’s endearing. He watches them curiously, the two eldest of the band, as they interact with each other-feed on each other-on and off the camera. On some level, he understands, knows that there is a perfect balance in their little family, that this deeper bond between Yunho and Jaejoong strengthens it. It’s the same with his two younger hyungs, sharing bond so deep and intangible that it needed no words. As a fellow member of the band and being its maknae, he reveled in their peace and was thankful for it.
But where did that leave him?
Jaejoong-a reckless, chaotic, organized mess that spouted word vomit at every turn-had Yunho-the steady, down-to-earth leader-sshi who could curb any of Jaejoong’s carelessness-and Yoochun-a starry-eyed, brooding romantic who was prone to depressing mood swings-had Junsu-a bright, walking, talking, ball of sunshine, was the perfect contrast to the darkness in Yoochun’s soul.
But who did Changmin have?
He wanted to think that he had a little bit of everyone. That he could revel in Jaejoong’s attention-not matter how fleeting-as the eldest grudgingly cooked him food at all hours of the night. That he could roll his eye’s at Yunho’s fatherly scolding-even if it was for doing something he should be doing at his age. That he could stand Yoochun’s lame pick-up lines and tried hard not to blush at the more successful double entendres. That he could play video games with Junsu and have the privilege to smack his delectable behind every time he beat the older man. A little bit of everyone; yes, that’s what he wanted to think.
Except it wasn’t enough.
He wanted more. Wanted the same fleeting, desperate caresses. The same hurried glances. Wanted the same deep, intangible bond that needed no words. It had been a long time since his last relationship, and almost no experience before that one. He knew women and wasn’t new to the knowledge of men. He knew their bodies, their lust, their amusement. But they didn’t know his. And in a way, he never wanted them to. He knew that any lasting relationship would be impossible what with busy schedules and too many emotions. It would be messy and painful. But then he wonders.
What was the difference between that and what he was feeling right now?
Changmin sighs, leaves the merry revelry celebrating another successful album launching. There’s alcohol coursing through his veins and it’s a pleasant buzz. He’s wandering the backstage, running hands against the heavy curtain that separated fantasy and reality. Out there, just beyond the curtains, he was Choiking Changmin-Max. Sexy and cute, wise and young, all rolled into one tall, handsome physique. But here, behind the thick drapes he was once again Shim Changmin. All awkward height with too long limbs, armed only with the knowledge he’d learned from books and knowing he wasn’t ugly but that he wasn’t exactly a looker.
Sometimes he wonders if maybe this isn’t what he wanted. That he should have stayed home and gone to school like everybody else instead of chasing a dream he’d already fulfilled-was still fulfilling-but was no longer satisfied with. Maybe, if he’d been normal like everyone else, he could have matured slowly, gone through adolescence little by little instead of abruptly and in painful growth spurts. Maybe then, he could have fallen in love, lived happily instead of living with this constant void in his life while watching those closest to him experience near-marital bliss. He pokes his head through the curtains, eyes roaming over the large stage and innumerous seats beyond it.
There’s a bitter taste in his mouth and Changmin knows it isn’t the alcohol.
Before he could Changmin could further wallow in what he refused to label as self-pity mingling with regret, he’s pulled back abruptly there’s a mouth on his. He’s dazed, confused, and seeing stars in his eyes. His reaction time is slow, the alcohol taking its toll and he thinks vaguely that the stage lights aren’t even on and he hadn’t wandered outside so those stars making his head spin was the product of something else entirely. But then again, late night Tokyo was so filled with lights that-
“Stop it,” was gruffly whispered against Changmin’s lips. He cursed the small amount of alcohol he’d imbibed. The voice was familiar and he’d have recognized it at once if he wasn’t buzzed. “Stop thinking. No more thinking. Just kiss me back and feel.” When commanded like that, Changmin could only obey. His hands roamed muscled arms, stroked familiar biceps. Changmin knew. The realization hit him with an almost painful clarity. There was no doubt about it. There could only be one.
Jaejoong hyung.
He should have pulled back, shoved the older man away, and pretended the encounter had never happened. That he hadn’t just touched someone else’s property. Except he knew that that someone else was in the vicinity, watching like a voyeur in the dark. And, like most voyeurs, enjoyed what he was watching. Changmin decided he liked it, enjoying-for the first time-to be watched instead of doing the watching. The knowledge of it spiked his pleasure, bringing a muted groan to escape him, spurring Jaejoong to deepen the kiss.
In the corner of his mind-in the tiny, hidden part that could never rest, that would never be affected by alcohol or hormones and lust-he noticed that two more had joined the voyeur already watching them. Changmin should have felt alarmed, maybe even ashamed, except he knew who they were and was secure with knowing. One joined them, sidling up and curving himself along Changmin’s back and running gentle hands down Changmin’s sides before wrapping themselves around Jaejoong’s back, pulling the youngest and the eldest tighter together.
Soft lips mouthed happy words against the back of his neck, emphasizing whispered promises with heated licks across already heated skin. They were joined by another, hooking arms around other necks to rest a sinful mouth on Changmin’s ear, tongue tracing the sensitive skin to leave a cold trail only to warm it up by tiny, sharp nips. He didn’t have time to wonder, to analyze and debate on whether or not what they were doing was right. They didn’t give him time to. Too many sensations on too many parts of his body distracted him, so much so that he hadn’t realized when Jaejoong had pulled back, Changmin trying to shush another groan when sharp teeth bit lightly into his shoulder.
“Do I win now?” Jaejoong asked, panting slightly, looking into the darkness to where the final piece of their five-part puzzle lay in wait, watching. There was no voiced reply, just a momentary hesitation that Changmin-even in his befuddled state-knew to be morals warring with desire. But it was only for a moment and finally, they were joined on Changmin’s other side by the last member.
“Not ‘I’ Boo, ‘we’.”
They stand there, behind the curtains that separated them from reality and fantasy, basking in each other’s warmth, indulging in the fact that for a moment, they could have both: the dream and the actuality. As they do so, Changmin ensconced in the middle of it all, he wonders if he’d been isolating himself, too intent on watching the others to realize that those fleeting touches and hurried whispers were for his benefit. It was a sobering thought. To think, the void in his heart had been his own doing.
“What’s the prize?” he asks quietly, meekly, so different from his usually sardonic nature. Jaejoong hyung’s lips no longer touching his but foreheads touching instead. On every side of him, he feels the widening of mouths, grins spreading across faces he knew so well. Silently, he hopes the question doesn’t break their hold on him. He didn’t understand; what was so funny?
“It’s you, silly.”
A/N: to the readers of 'Meant for Someone Else', i know i said i'd get a prostitute!min oneshot up to make up for the late update next week, but its taking longer than expected. its just not coming out right ='[[ no worries though, i got a new muse for this one =]] but i think its kinda rushed, so im sorry if it seems that way. Hopefully it isnt too bad and everyone likes it. and sorry in advanced for any spelling and grammar mistakes. like i said, its rushed, so feel free to point them out and i can edit later when i have more time. ENJOY =]]
Pairings: OT5
Rating: pg-15 [nothing bad, just a couple of kisses and maybe a few licks and nips here and there =D ]
Genre: definitely angst
A/N: really really REALLY old fic. x-posted at the hug fic a long time ago. un-beta'd
It’s there, in the way they play with each other: the subtle, fleeting touches that are seemingly casual, but are too quick-too desperate-to be anything but. The hurried, nearly frantic whispers of sickeningly sweet promises uttered low in between shows and performances. It’s so hopeless, it’s endearing. He watches them curiously, the two eldest of the band, as they interact with each other-feed on each other-on and off the camera. On some level, he understands, knows that there is a perfect balance in their little family, that this deeper bond between Yunho and Jaejoong strengthens it. It’s the same with his two younger hyungs, sharing bond so deep and intangible that it needed no words. As a fellow member of the band and being its maknae, he reveled in their peace and was thankful for it.
But where did that leave him?
Jaejoong-a reckless, chaotic, organized mess that spouted word vomit at every turn-had Yunho-the steady, down-to-earth leader-sshi who could curb any of Jaejoong’s carelessness-and Yoochun-a starry-eyed, brooding romantic who was prone to depressing mood swings-had Junsu-a bright, walking, talking, ball of sunshine, was the perfect contrast to the darkness in Yoochun’s soul.
But who did Changmin have?
He wanted to think that he had a little bit of everyone. That he could revel in Jaejoong’s attention-not matter how fleeting-as the eldest grudgingly cooked him food at all hours of the night. That he could roll his eye’s at Yunho’s fatherly scolding-even if it was for doing something he should be doing at his age. That he could stand Yoochun’s lame pick-up lines and tried hard not to blush at the more successful double entendres. That he could play video games with Junsu and have the privilege to smack his delectable behind every time he beat the older man. A little bit of everyone; yes, that’s what he wanted to think.
Except it wasn’t enough.
He wanted more. Wanted the same fleeting, desperate caresses. The same hurried glances. Wanted the same deep, intangible bond that needed no words. It had been a long time since his last relationship, and almost no experience before that one. He knew women and wasn’t new to the knowledge of men. He knew their bodies, their lust, their amusement. But they didn’t know his. And in a way, he never wanted them to. He knew that any lasting relationship would be impossible what with busy schedules and too many emotions. It would be messy and painful. But then he wonders.
What was the difference between that and what he was feeling right now?
Changmin sighs, leaves the merry revelry celebrating another successful album launching. There’s alcohol coursing through his veins and it’s a pleasant buzz. He’s wandering the backstage, running hands against the heavy curtain that separated fantasy and reality. Out there, just beyond the curtains, he was Choiking Changmin-Max. Sexy and cute, wise and young, all rolled into one tall, handsome physique. But here, behind the thick drapes he was once again Shim Changmin. All awkward height with too long limbs, armed only with the knowledge he’d learned from books and knowing he wasn’t ugly but that he wasn’t exactly a looker.
Sometimes he wonders if maybe this isn’t what he wanted. That he should have stayed home and gone to school like everybody else instead of chasing a dream he’d already fulfilled-was still fulfilling-but was no longer satisfied with. Maybe, if he’d been normal like everyone else, he could have matured slowly, gone through adolescence little by little instead of abruptly and in painful growth spurts. Maybe then, he could have fallen in love, lived happily instead of living with this constant void in his life while watching those closest to him experience near-marital bliss. He pokes his head through the curtains, eyes roaming over the large stage and innumerous seats beyond it.
There’s a bitter taste in his mouth and Changmin knows it isn’t the alcohol.
Before he could Changmin could further wallow in what he refused to label as self-pity mingling with regret, he’s pulled back abruptly there’s a mouth on his. He’s dazed, confused, and seeing stars in his eyes. His reaction time is slow, the alcohol taking its toll and he thinks vaguely that the stage lights aren’t even on and he hadn’t wandered outside so those stars making his head spin was the product of something else entirely. But then again, late night Tokyo was so filled with lights that-
“Stop it,” was gruffly whispered against Changmin’s lips. He cursed the small amount of alcohol he’d imbibed. The voice was familiar and he’d have recognized it at once if he wasn’t buzzed. “Stop thinking. No more thinking. Just kiss me back and feel.” When commanded like that, Changmin could only obey. His hands roamed muscled arms, stroked familiar biceps. Changmin knew. The realization hit him with an almost painful clarity. There was no doubt about it. There could only be one.
Jaejoong hyung.
He should have pulled back, shoved the older man away, and pretended the encounter had never happened. That he hadn’t just touched someone else’s property. Except he knew that that someone else was in the vicinity, watching like a voyeur in the dark. And, like most voyeurs, enjoyed what he was watching. Changmin decided he liked it, enjoying-for the first time-to be watched instead of doing the watching. The knowledge of it spiked his pleasure, bringing a muted groan to escape him, spurring Jaejoong to deepen the kiss.
In the corner of his mind-in the tiny, hidden part that could never rest, that would never be affected by alcohol or hormones and lust-he noticed that two more had joined the voyeur already watching them. Changmin should have felt alarmed, maybe even ashamed, except he knew who they were and was secure with knowing. One joined them, sidling up and curving himself along Changmin’s back and running gentle hands down Changmin’s sides before wrapping themselves around Jaejoong’s back, pulling the youngest and the eldest tighter together.
Soft lips mouthed happy words against the back of his neck, emphasizing whispered promises with heated licks across already heated skin. They were joined by another, hooking arms around other necks to rest a sinful mouth on Changmin’s ear, tongue tracing the sensitive skin to leave a cold trail only to warm it up by tiny, sharp nips. He didn’t have time to wonder, to analyze and debate on whether or not what they were doing was right. They didn’t give him time to. Too many sensations on too many parts of his body distracted him, so much so that he hadn’t realized when Jaejoong had pulled back, Changmin trying to shush another groan when sharp teeth bit lightly into his shoulder.
“Do I win now?” Jaejoong asked, panting slightly, looking into the darkness to where the final piece of their five-part puzzle lay in wait, watching. There was no voiced reply, just a momentary hesitation that Changmin-even in his befuddled state-knew to be morals warring with desire. But it was only for a moment and finally, they were joined on Changmin’s other side by the last member.
“Not ‘I’ Boo, ‘we’.”
They stand there, behind the curtains that separated them from reality and fantasy, basking in each other’s warmth, indulging in the fact that for a moment, they could have both: the dream and the actuality. As they do so, Changmin ensconced in the middle of it all, he wonders if he’d been isolating himself, too intent on watching the others to realize that those fleeting touches and hurried whispers were for his benefit. It was a sobering thought. To think, the void in his heart had been his own doing.
“What’s the prize?” he asks quietly, meekly, so different from his usually sardonic nature. Jaejoong hyung’s lips no longer touching his but foreheads touching instead. On every side of him, he feels the widening of mouths, grins spreading across faces he knew so well. Silently, he hopes the question doesn’t break their hold on him. He didn’t understand; what was so funny?
“It’s you, silly.”
A/N: to the readers of 'Meant for Someone Else', i know i said i'd get a prostitute!min oneshot up to make up for the late update next week, but its taking longer than expected. its just not coming out right ='[[ no worries though, i got a new muse for this one =]] but i think its kinda rushed, so im sorry if it seems that way. Hopefully it isnt too bad and everyone likes it. and sorry in advanced for any spelling and grammar mistakes. like i said, its rushed, so feel free to point them out and i can edit later when i have more time. ENJOY =]]