Whenever You Call
Title: Whenever You Call
Pairing: Yoochun/Junsu
Rating: R
Summary: When he walks into class that morning, it’s already on his desk.
For: High school Fic Contest
A/N: This verse is loosely based on the manga Vampire Knight by Hino Matsuri
When he walks into class that morning, it’s already on his desk.
It sits like a beacon on his desk, the deep red of its petals the same shade as the ribbon tied around the long stem. He’d known it was coming; three days on the dot, four if he was lucky. Or unlucky, depending on whose perspective. Across the room Yunho’s already picked his own rose up, lifting it up to his nose to inhale the sweet scent. He’s got a smile on his face and an expression so blissful Yoochun almost envies him. Yoochun picks up his rose but doesn’t smell it; he’s never thought they smelled particularly pleasant. He stares at it for a moment, wanting to feel the soft petals between his fingers but stifles the urge to do so. People are watching him, his classmates wide-eyed and almost in awe at the small gift. Except it isn’t a gift at all.
It’s a summons.
He shoves the thing into his desk, knuckles knocking into the notebooks already there, unmindful of the thorns. He flinches at the sting as his hand emerges from inside with a dot of blood welling up on one fingertip. It’s bright red, brighter than the rose petals - like rubies. He imagines it gleaming like those gems, so tempting. Yoochun can almost understand the allure and the feeling hits too close to home. He wipes his thumb on the dark material of his pants instead of sticking it into his mouth like he really wanted to.
The rest of the day is uneventful, passing by in a blur of dull lectures and an unexciting meal. During lunch he sits with the others who’d gotten ‘gifts’ that morning and they’re all served with food more sumptuous than the usual cafeteria fare. Yunho sits next to him, eating heartily as he chats with another second year. They’re both smiling, engulfed by the same air of excitement and anticipation as the rest of their table. Yoochun can’t say he shares the sentiment. He picks at his food and takes a bite grudgingly only when Yunho asks about his appetite. He doesn’t like the attention from Yunho or from the rest of the cafeteria. The eyes watching them because they’re the ‘chosen ones’. And chosen for what exactly? Yoochun sees nothing to be proud of in what they do.
After the last bell he and Yunho walk to the dormitories together, taking the scenic route through the small wooded area that separated the school building from the living quarters. There’s a fork in the road at the edge of the woods, one towards the Day Class dormitories where he and Yunho usually went and the other… the other led to where they went when they were summoned.
The sun hangs low in the horizon, it’s weak rays further obscured by the tall trees. Dusk is falling, the sky darkening slowly with it. No one walks in front of them or behind them; the only other person in sight is a girl wearing their uniform. A guardian of the gates.
“Seohyun,” Yunho says to her in greeting. A small smile plays on her lips, though the rest of her expression stays carefully blank. “Are we late?”
She bows low, the smile gone when she straightens. “You’d be the last ones. Everyone else has already gone inside.” She ushers them inside the gate, carefully shutting it behind them. She doesn’t go in with them. Yunho waves her goodbye, telling her to be careful on patrol.
The walk up to the Night Class dormitories is a long and winding one, thick with trees that almost fully hid the sky above. It starts to thin out when they come closer to the building, replaced by exquisitely designed landscaping, ivory statues, and stone sculptures. An enormous fountain sits at the middle of a circular drive way and behind it the large mansion that housed the wealthy and privileged students of the Night Class. It’s so very big and had an ominous air about it that shivers of apprehension running up and down Yoochun’s spine. Beside him, Yunho looks unaffected - excited, actually - and that’s the problem.
Yunho wants this. So does everyone else. Yoochun doesn’t.
Jaejoong’s waiting for Yunho at the door, looking especially pale today with his newly dyed wine-colored hair. It had been blonde just a few days ago, and had touched his shoulders. It’s cut short now, exposing the porcelain skin of his neck. It’s a complete 180 from the last time Yoochun had seen him but it doesn’t change the fact that Jaejoong is still utterly gorgeous. He glitters, almost, with something unnatural. Yunho practically beams at him as they walk down the hall arm in arm.
A throat clears from somewhere in the vicinity and Yoochun turns to see someone waiting for him too. “Shall we?” his new companion says with a radiant smile that Yoochun fights not to return.
Yoochun nods curtly, allowing the other to lead him down the opposite hall to his private quarters. Inside, he lags at the threshold, slightly uncomfortable in the opulently furnished room despite having been in here more times than he can count. It’s so different from the monotony of his own dorm room which had nothing but two beds, a desk, and not much else. The difference is staggering, though it’d be the least on the list of differences between them.
“Anything to drink?” he’s offered while loosening his tie and popping the first couple of buttons on his shirt. He tugs at the collar, pulling it wide to expose an ample expanse of his neck and shoulder. He’s being stared at.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
He can hear his heart pounding in his ears and it’s loud in the relative quiet of the room. Yoochun tries not to shut his yes but keeping them open doesn’t feel right; he does it involuntarily along with the holding of his breath. His heart races even faster and he wills it to slow to no avail. He doesn’t want to seem eager but he knows that’s what it’ll look like.
“You’re so tense.” The words are whisper soft against the nape of his neck. Yoochun gives the barest of shrugs to hide the shiver that runs up and down his spine, though he won’t be able to hide the single beat his heart skips at the husky voice. “Why don’t you take your uniform off? It’ll stain if I spill.”
“You never spill,” Yoochun says with an undignified snort. “That’d be wasting.”
Junsu pulls back, peering at him with dark irises rimmed in red. Despite the calm front he presents, the unnatural gleam in his eyes belies the signs of hunger Yoochun’s come to learn in the past weeks. “I don’t want to cause you more discomfort that I have to,” Junsu says, brows furrowed in the stirrings of frustration. “Why don’t you let me take the edge off?” his eyes begin to glow and Yoochun jerks back, quickly averting his gaze before he’s sucked in.
“I said no funny stuff.” Angrily, Yoochun stalks toward the open curtains of the window. The moon hangs low in the sky, chasing the last of the sunlight with her darkness before ascending to her throne among the stars. “I’m fine. Just feed so I can go already. It’s getting late and I’ve still got math problems due for tomorrow.”
A deep sigh echoes from the other side of the room. “Come then,” Junsu beckons him back into the shadows. Yoochun turns warily, raising his eyes slowly in case Junsu’s gaze still holds that unnatural persuasion. They’re clear now, devoid of that otherworldly power despite the tinge of red in them. Junsu opens his arms in silent invitation and Yoochun steps into them stiffly, eyes trained on the wall behind them. His heart starts racing again when Junsu wraps an arm around his back to pull him closer.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he says softly, breath ghosting along Yoochun’s cheek as he leans his head into the crook of Yoochun’s neck. “I can make this enjoyable if you let me.”
Yoochun shakes his head adamantly though his breath catches at the reminder. He has a hard time with how good it is already; Yoochun’s afraid if it gets any better he’ll fall so deeply into Junsu’s web that he won’t be able to find his way out. “No funny stuff,” he says, trying to sound unaffected by Junsu’s lips against his throat. His eyes flutter closed as the tip of the other’s tongue touches his skin, right over the harsh pulsing of his jugular.
“Have it your way,” Junsu sighs before opening his mouth and piercing skin.
True to his word, Junsu makes no effort to ease the initial pain of sharp fangs slipping beneath the surface and Yoochun makes a strangled noise low in his throat. His fingers grab at the back of Junsu’s dress shirt; he has yet to put on the rest of his uniform and Yoochun can feel the coolness of his skin through the thin cloth of his undershirt. Unconsciously, he clutches Junsu to him, teeth grit together to hold back pain or pleasure - Yoochun isn’t sure. His mind is at war with his body; even as his mind reels in disgust, his body acts on its own, arching into Junsu’s embrace and neck stretching to accommodate Junsu’s hungry mouth.
He groans loudly, his body admitting to a pleasure the rest of him wouldn’t in saner moments. Yoochun tries to muster some anger to regain some of his dignity. Junsu must be using mind tricks on him - he has to be - otherwise how could it feel this good? Junsu starts sucking on the wounds he’s made and the accompanying jolt of pain tells Yoochun that no, there are no mind tricks. If there were he’d be a writhing mess on the bed, begging for Junsu to take his body too, not just his blood. There would be no pain, only pleasure. A continuous, never-ending, addictive spiral that Yoochun tries so hard not to crave. But even without all the tricks Yoochun’s already fallen in so deep. How could he want this so much?
His knees give out as the assault on his senses reaches its peak and Junsu hauls him against his chest before slowly lowering them onto the bed in one smooth motion, still feeding at Yoochun’s neck. He cradles Yoochun’s head in one hand as he leans over him, the other stroking down Yoochun’s side to his hip. Pleasure sparks wherever Junsu touches him and Yoochun knows that despite all his efforts, he’s already too far gone. How long can he distance himself from this kind of exquisite torment? How long before he’s actively seeking Junsu out instead of pushing him away? This could be so much more - he remembers the smile on Yunho’s face when he’d seen the rose on his desk and knows it could be more. Something hot snaps from inside him and he writhes on the mattress as he’s overcome by the final waves of release.
It’s quite possible his heart stops in that moment and he dies a little death because he can’t quite remember what happens afterward. Warmth registers through the sluggishness of his mind, skin that had once been cool to the touch is warm and supple where it lies for a moment against him. And then then nothing.
When Yoochun comes to, the moon throws deep shadows around the room and instinctively he knows he’s alone. Gingerly, he sits up and touches fingers to his neck finding tender skin but otherwise smooth and without a single mark. The jacket of his uniform had been stripped off and neatly draped over the back of a chair. He attempts to stand on shaky legs and succeeds, moving towards the study table for his uniform. Putting it on, Yoochun notices items on the desk that hadn’t been there before. He picks up the white rose and lifts it to his face, inhaling the scent off its silky petals. The white ones always seemed sweeter than the red. Then he turns to the white sheet of paper that lay next to his rose. His math homework with penciled scribbles on the side. Grudgingly, Yoochun grins and walks toward the door to leave.
The next red rose will appear on his desk in three days - four if he’s lucky - and this time, he might actually look forward to it.
A/N: Umm, it’s been a while since I’ve written Yoosu! And yes, I am aware I’ve got a couple of Yoosu fics I have yet to continue but oh well. Such is life. I will finish them, just…not any time soon >.< enjoy anyway? :D Also, this piece is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point them out so I can correct them~
As always, comments are ♥
Pairing: Yoochun/Junsu
Rating: R
Summary: When he walks into class that morning, it’s already on his desk.
For: High school Fic Contest
A/N: This verse is loosely based on the manga Vampire Knight by Hino Matsuri
When he walks into class that morning, it’s already on his desk.
It sits like a beacon on his desk, the deep red of its petals the same shade as the ribbon tied around the long stem. He’d known it was coming; three days on the dot, four if he was lucky. Or unlucky, depending on whose perspective. Across the room Yunho’s already picked his own rose up, lifting it up to his nose to inhale the sweet scent. He’s got a smile on his face and an expression so blissful Yoochun almost envies him. Yoochun picks up his rose but doesn’t smell it; he’s never thought they smelled particularly pleasant. He stares at it for a moment, wanting to feel the soft petals between his fingers but stifles the urge to do so. People are watching him, his classmates wide-eyed and almost in awe at the small gift. Except it isn’t a gift at all.
It’s a summons.
He shoves the thing into his desk, knuckles knocking into the notebooks already there, unmindful of the thorns. He flinches at the sting as his hand emerges from inside with a dot of blood welling up on one fingertip. It’s bright red, brighter than the rose petals - like rubies. He imagines it gleaming like those gems, so tempting. Yoochun can almost understand the allure and the feeling hits too close to home. He wipes his thumb on the dark material of his pants instead of sticking it into his mouth like he really wanted to.
The rest of the day is uneventful, passing by in a blur of dull lectures and an unexciting meal. During lunch he sits with the others who’d gotten ‘gifts’ that morning and they’re all served with food more sumptuous than the usual cafeteria fare. Yunho sits next to him, eating heartily as he chats with another second year. They’re both smiling, engulfed by the same air of excitement and anticipation as the rest of their table. Yoochun can’t say he shares the sentiment. He picks at his food and takes a bite grudgingly only when Yunho asks about his appetite. He doesn’t like the attention from Yunho or from the rest of the cafeteria. The eyes watching them because they’re the ‘chosen ones’. And chosen for what exactly? Yoochun sees nothing to be proud of in what they do.
After the last bell he and Yunho walk to the dormitories together, taking the scenic route through the small wooded area that separated the school building from the living quarters. There’s a fork in the road at the edge of the woods, one towards the Day Class dormitories where he and Yunho usually went and the other… the other led to where they went when they were summoned.
The sun hangs low in the horizon, it’s weak rays further obscured by the tall trees. Dusk is falling, the sky darkening slowly with it. No one walks in front of them or behind them; the only other person in sight is a girl wearing their uniform. A guardian of the gates.
“Seohyun,” Yunho says to her in greeting. A small smile plays on her lips, though the rest of her expression stays carefully blank. “Are we late?”
She bows low, the smile gone when she straightens. “You’d be the last ones. Everyone else has already gone inside.” She ushers them inside the gate, carefully shutting it behind them. She doesn’t go in with them. Yunho waves her goodbye, telling her to be careful on patrol.
The walk up to the Night Class dormitories is a long and winding one, thick with trees that almost fully hid the sky above. It starts to thin out when they come closer to the building, replaced by exquisitely designed landscaping, ivory statues, and stone sculptures. An enormous fountain sits at the middle of a circular drive way and behind it the large mansion that housed the wealthy and privileged students of the Night Class. It’s so very big and had an ominous air about it that shivers of apprehension running up and down Yoochun’s spine. Beside him, Yunho looks unaffected - excited, actually - and that’s the problem.
Yunho wants this. So does everyone else. Yoochun doesn’t.
Jaejoong’s waiting for Yunho at the door, looking especially pale today with his newly dyed wine-colored hair. It had been blonde just a few days ago, and had touched his shoulders. It’s cut short now, exposing the porcelain skin of his neck. It’s a complete 180 from the last time Yoochun had seen him but it doesn’t change the fact that Jaejoong is still utterly gorgeous. He glitters, almost, with something unnatural. Yunho practically beams at him as they walk down the hall arm in arm.
A throat clears from somewhere in the vicinity and Yoochun turns to see someone waiting for him too. “Shall we?” his new companion says with a radiant smile that Yoochun fights not to return.
Yoochun nods curtly, allowing the other to lead him down the opposite hall to his private quarters. Inside, he lags at the threshold, slightly uncomfortable in the opulently furnished room despite having been in here more times than he can count. It’s so different from the monotony of his own dorm room which had nothing but two beds, a desk, and not much else. The difference is staggering, though it’d be the least on the list of differences between them.
“Anything to drink?” he’s offered while loosening his tie and popping the first couple of buttons on his shirt. He tugs at the collar, pulling it wide to expose an ample expanse of his neck and shoulder. He’s being stared at.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
He can hear his heart pounding in his ears and it’s loud in the relative quiet of the room. Yoochun tries not to shut his yes but keeping them open doesn’t feel right; he does it involuntarily along with the holding of his breath. His heart races even faster and he wills it to slow to no avail. He doesn’t want to seem eager but he knows that’s what it’ll look like.
“You’re so tense.” The words are whisper soft against the nape of his neck. Yoochun gives the barest of shrugs to hide the shiver that runs up and down his spine, though he won’t be able to hide the single beat his heart skips at the husky voice. “Why don’t you take your uniform off? It’ll stain if I spill.”
“You never spill,” Yoochun says with an undignified snort. “That’d be wasting.”
Junsu pulls back, peering at him with dark irises rimmed in red. Despite the calm front he presents, the unnatural gleam in his eyes belies the signs of hunger Yoochun’s come to learn in the past weeks. “I don’t want to cause you more discomfort that I have to,” Junsu says, brows furrowed in the stirrings of frustration. “Why don’t you let me take the edge off?” his eyes begin to glow and Yoochun jerks back, quickly averting his gaze before he’s sucked in.
“I said no funny stuff.” Angrily, Yoochun stalks toward the open curtains of the window. The moon hangs low in the sky, chasing the last of the sunlight with her darkness before ascending to her throne among the stars. “I’m fine. Just feed so I can go already. It’s getting late and I’ve still got math problems due for tomorrow.”
A deep sigh echoes from the other side of the room. “Come then,” Junsu beckons him back into the shadows. Yoochun turns warily, raising his eyes slowly in case Junsu’s gaze still holds that unnatural persuasion. They’re clear now, devoid of that otherworldly power despite the tinge of red in them. Junsu opens his arms in silent invitation and Yoochun steps into them stiffly, eyes trained on the wall behind them. His heart starts racing again when Junsu wraps an arm around his back to pull him closer.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he says softly, breath ghosting along Yoochun’s cheek as he leans his head into the crook of Yoochun’s neck. “I can make this enjoyable if you let me.”
Yoochun shakes his head adamantly though his breath catches at the reminder. He has a hard time with how good it is already; Yoochun’s afraid if it gets any better he’ll fall so deeply into Junsu’s web that he won’t be able to find his way out. “No funny stuff,” he says, trying to sound unaffected by Junsu’s lips against his throat. His eyes flutter closed as the tip of the other’s tongue touches his skin, right over the harsh pulsing of his jugular.
“Have it your way,” Junsu sighs before opening his mouth and piercing skin.
True to his word, Junsu makes no effort to ease the initial pain of sharp fangs slipping beneath the surface and Yoochun makes a strangled noise low in his throat. His fingers grab at the back of Junsu’s dress shirt; he has yet to put on the rest of his uniform and Yoochun can feel the coolness of his skin through the thin cloth of his undershirt. Unconsciously, he clutches Junsu to him, teeth grit together to hold back pain or pleasure - Yoochun isn’t sure. His mind is at war with his body; even as his mind reels in disgust, his body acts on its own, arching into Junsu’s embrace and neck stretching to accommodate Junsu’s hungry mouth.
He groans loudly, his body admitting to a pleasure the rest of him wouldn’t in saner moments. Yoochun tries to muster some anger to regain some of his dignity. Junsu must be using mind tricks on him - he has to be - otherwise how could it feel this good? Junsu starts sucking on the wounds he’s made and the accompanying jolt of pain tells Yoochun that no, there are no mind tricks. If there were he’d be a writhing mess on the bed, begging for Junsu to take his body too, not just his blood. There would be no pain, only pleasure. A continuous, never-ending, addictive spiral that Yoochun tries so hard not to crave. But even without all the tricks Yoochun’s already fallen in so deep. How could he want this so much?
His knees give out as the assault on his senses reaches its peak and Junsu hauls him against his chest before slowly lowering them onto the bed in one smooth motion, still feeding at Yoochun’s neck. He cradles Yoochun’s head in one hand as he leans over him, the other stroking down Yoochun’s side to his hip. Pleasure sparks wherever Junsu touches him and Yoochun knows that despite all his efforts, he’s already too far gone. How long can he distance himself from this kind of exquisite torment? How long before he’s actively seeking Junsu out instead of pushing him away? This could be so much more - he remembers the smile on Yunho’s face when he’d seen the rose on his desk and knows it could be more. Something hot snaps from inside him and he writhes on the mattress as he’s overcome by the final waves of release.
It’s quite possible his heart stops in that moment and he dies a little death because he can’t quite remember what happens afterward. Warmth registers through the sluggishness of his mind, skin that had once been cool to the touch is warm and supple where it lies for a moment against him. And then then nothing.
When Yoochun comes to, the moon throws deep shadows around the room and instinctively he knows he’s alone. Gingerly, he sits up and touches fingers to his neck finding tender skin but otherwise smooth and without a single mark. The jacket of his uniform had been stripped off and neatly draped over the back of a chair. He attempts to stand on shaky legs and succeeds, moving towards the study table for his uniform. Putting it on, Yoochun notices items on the desk that hadn’t been there before. He picks up the white rose and lifts it to his face, inhaling the scent off its silky petals. The white ones always seemed sweeter than the red. Then he turns to the white sheet of paper that lay next to his rose. His math homework with penciled scribbles on the side. Grudgingly, Yoochun grins and walks toward the door to leave.
The next red rose will appear on his desk in three days - four if he’s lucky - and this time, he might actually look forward to it.
A/N: Umm, it’s been a while since I’ve written Yoosu! And yes, I am aware I’ve got a couple of Yoosu fics I have yet to continue but oh well. Such is life. I will finish them, just…not any time soon >.< enjoy anyway? :D Also, this piece is unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point them out so I can correct them~
As always, comments are ♥