(no subject)
They've been on the Cerberus for what feels like months but is probably more like a week. They sleep when they can and Yunho covers their backs. He still doesn't trust Jiexi, even if the others do. When his shifts end, he rouses Junsu, passes the torch and takes vigil by Changmin's side.
It's been a few days since Jaejoong got back on his feet, and he looks better. At last Yoochun can sleep without nightmares.
Their rooms are cell-like and he can't forget the last time he slept in a bed here. There are no nocturnal visits, except his own. He sleeps alone and touches no one, but it's enough to see the other four draw comfort from fleeting touches and whispered words. He doesn't try to be a part of it, or show how much he misses them.
One night, overwhelmed with fatigue, he falls into the wrong bed and realizes his mistake only too late. Changmin's eyes are wide open in the dark.
"You okay?" The protector in him rises to the surface immediately. "Nightmare?" They've got plenty to fear, in waking moments as well as in not so peaceful slumber. War can do that to a person.
"Would have to sleep for that to happen," he murmurs, fingers nevertheless curling around Yunho's wrist, keeping him in place. "Are you?" Changmin shifts under the blanket, grasp tightening briefly. "You look like utter hell."
"I'm fine," Yunho insists, mechanically. It's not nearly enough for Changmin. He deserves more than that. "I'm coping. There's a lot to do." He doesn't leave the bed, as he might have if Changmin was asleep. "How are the others?"
"Yoochun won't let Jaejoong out of his sight," he tells him, a sad smile quirking his lips. "I think Jae's starting to get frustrated with the hovering, but he's keeping quiet if he is. Junsu's with them now, I think."
His thumb strokes the inside of Yunho's palm tentatively. "I'm more concerned with you right now. Have you eaten anything?"
"Yeah, I had breakfast." He can't remember how long ago that was. It doesn't seem relevant when there's so much to do and so little time. His hand closes around Changmin's, clutching it in a tight grip. It's what he must do if he wants to feel the featherlight touch.
"The proteined stuff they keep isn't such a loss anyway." As necessary as it is to stay alive, the taste leaves much to be desired.
Changmin holds the clasped hand in place, making a small noise of disapproval at the answer. He tugs a corner of the blanket up and over the other man, shifting closer, sharing warmth and touch.
"You've been avoiding me," he notes quietly, the tone more concern than accusation.
"I've been giving you space," Yunho retorts. If he's kept to himself, it hasn't been because he doesn't care. He closes his eyes, enjoying the foreign feel of somebody's body pressed against his. Even if it doesn't last, he has this for now.
Changmin breathes a sigh, reaching up hesitantly to run his fingers through Yunho's hair, unsure if this is allowed. If his touch is welcome.
"You know," he starts, voice even, "for such a great leader, you're just...you're such a fucking dumbass."
Startled, Yunho chuckles. "Am I? Who're you to judge?" He doesn't take offense so much as finds himself surprised. He always could trust Changmin to be honest. "When did you last eat?" he asks, without giving the other man time to answer. Dumbass or not, he can still try to take care of them.
"An hour ago," Changmin mutters, moving still closer, tucking his head against Yunho's shoulder. Neither wind, rain or pain of death is any legitimate force against his appetite. He sighs soflty, daring a kiss to the man's clavicle. He's missed the solid feel of Yunho under his hands, the muscles under warm skin, the broad shoulders and refined features.
"Good," Yunho sighs, eyes falling shut again. "I need to... get back..." Changmin's kiss is unexpected but not unwelcome. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around the other man's back, stroking the nape of his neck. "It's been a while."
Changmin swallows hard, feeling a weight lift off his chest as strong arms encircle his slender frame, the soft caress of fingertips stroking away the tension that lingers in him.
"It's been too long," he corrects, hand settling on the small of Yunho's back, drawing back until he can meet the older man's eyes. "Stay with me."
Yunho nods, for the first time unsure. He's seen him with the others, with Junsu. He wonders if they know, he hopes they don't. It's sad, and pathetic, but he should be above needing human contact by now. He should be used to it.
"Come here," he asks, evenly, without begging, without ordering. Come closer, he means, come into me.
Here, in the dark, he recognizes his fears. They're too big to be ignored anymore.
And Changmin does. It's as simple as that, permission given and he's pressing himself against Yunho's length, lips hovering inches away, still hesitating to kiss him. His place in their relationship drilled into him for so long. But Yunho is not his commanding officer anymore, is not his superior, not outside of this room and not in this bed. And it's about time they were on equal footing.
He captures the other man's lips, fingers sliding through his hair.
Yunho smiles into the kiss, wraps his arms tighter around a young back. He lets Changmin's warmth invade him, lets it consume him from within. It's intense and unsettling, but he makes no attempt to take over.
Changmin is right. It's been too long, but he didn't dare assume--didn't think they could ever get back to being together like this. Changmin has the others and Yunho has seen their love for him; believes in it wholeheartedly.
"You've changed so much," he breathes, shaking with pent up tension, with time he's wasted.
Changmin pants slightly against the other man's jaw, fingertips stroking along his spine.
"Is that bad?" he whispers, a hint of vulnerability in his tone, the other man's harsh words still echoing in his ears.
Yunho shakes his head, a fraction of an inch. "Never." Pressing palms under Changmin's shirt, he feels bare skin he hasn't touched since the Acheron. He feels himself harden in response, feels Changmin's thighs part around his leg and despite fatigue, this is the only form of heaven he'll ever taste. It doesn't feel like settling.
Changmin's breath catches at the slide of calloused palms over his skin, mouth finding Yunho's once again, a growing erection tenting the thin material of his underwear. He shifts against Yunho's thigh, groaning softly.
Missed you so much, he wants to say, "Missed this."
"Me too," Yunho hurries to agree, as if by sheer willpower he can make Changmin want him again. Release is easy to share between men on a crowded warship; it doesn't have to be more than that.
But Changmin's not the only one to have changed. Something nameless and heavy weighs in his chest, keeps him from pinning Changmin to the bed and taking him like he used to. Something makes him try to coax out the other man's pleasure.
The rushed assurance causes warmth to unfurl in his chest, Yunho's questing hands drawing low, muted nosies from the back of his throat, shifting closer as if he could crawl inside the other man. Hands go to the close of Yunho's trousers, undoing them then his own, making to shift onto his stomach.
"No!" The word is wrenched from Yunho's lips as he shakes his head quickly. "No. Not like that." Trembling at the feel of Changmin's cock brushing against his own, he shakes his head again. "Not unless it's what you want."
And if it is, he'll be careful. He won't make the same mistakes twice.
Freezing at the other man's words, Changmin meets his gaze, uncertain, reaching up to stroke a hand through Yunho's hair, trying to soothe whatever it is that put that note of fear in the other man's voice.
"I want you," he said quietly, pressing their hips together. "I don't care how."
"I do," Yunho retorts, just as softly. This isn't just about sex. It shouldn't be. Reaching down between them, he wraps his fist around Changmin's erection. Memories course through him.
"Gods, Changmin."
He whimpers at the touch, the sound in his ears making him flush, head falling against the pillow.
"Yunho..." he bites his lip against the honorific that wants to follow, thrusting into the other man's touch.
"I don't trust myself around you," Yunho continues, savoring the sound of his name on Changmin's lips. "I've hurt you so much already." His hand strokes a fast, relentless rhythm, one he knows well. This isn't the first time he's been with Changmin, not by far, but it's one of the few where all that matters is Changmin's pleasure.
Changmin's hand clutches at the other man's shoulder, small noises falling from his lips with each stroke.
"Yeah," he chokes. "You have. It's okay."
Love you anyway.
It's okay. It isn't, not by a long shot and Yunho knows it, but he can make believe.
Changmin's breath on his lips is harsher than ever, broken, interrupted by soft sounds of pleasure. He hears his lover try to silence them, wishes he wouldn't. His lips trace Changmin's collarbone, the play of muscles on his chest, and for the first time, Yunho gets down on his knees before him.
He nearly comes at the sight, a choked "what are you..." dying on his lips as the other man takes him into his mouth, eyes sliding shut in bliss.
Yunho is unpracticed he can tell, and rather than detract from the experience, it adds to it, the knowledge that this proud, beautiful man is doing for him what he's done for so few others. He threads his fingers through Yunho's hair, not pulling, encouraging, a moan building in his chest.
The movement is foreign, but not the taste, not the feelings behind it. Yunho draws from little to no experience, but plenty of desire. He's dreamed of this, on his back, in the middle of lonely fucking nights.
A glance in Changmin's direction tells him it might have been a shared dream.
"Missed you so much." The words tumble from his lips on a whisper, arching against the mattress. "Thought...thought about you all the time...I..."
A groan cuts off the words, hand fisting in the sheets.
"Hyung..."
Yunho moans at the words spilling from Changmin's lips, wishing to hear more, wishing to hear everything the younger man has to say. His hand slips between his own thighs, his arousal heavy and hot. He needs release like he needs Changmin. In equal measure both, but Changmin first, always first.
He pulls away, looking up at his lover with a heated gaze. "Say that again."
Changmin watches the older man touch himself with dark, lust-filled eyes, his own hand slipping over his chest, stroking idly.
"Hyung," he breathes, the remnants of his language heavy on his tongue. "Saranghae."
He wills Yunho to understand, too cowardly still to say it plain.
For a moment, Yunho frowns, not understanding, forgetting the easy rhythm of his mouth. He doesn't understand, but he wishes he did. Wishes he could measure up to all that's expected, fearing he can't.
Bending low between Changmin's thighs, he wills him to speak with his lips on his erection, to keep speaking until he's said all he has to say. They've kept silent for too long.
"Yunho hyung," Changmin groans, unable to part with the honorific now that it's been allowed, asked for. There's a change in Yunho, not just in actions. In his eyes, a softness that Changmin hasn't seen in him before.
"I'm c-close, please..."
He remembers words of love spat at him like an accusation; wants to hear them again, to hear them as a lover should. Wanting them to be true.
Yunho tries. Moaning into the soft skin in time with the movements of his hand, he hollows his cheeks. He wants to bring Changmin pleasure, wants to help the other man remember they used to be good together. It doesn't have to mean anything anymore. Looking up, he meets Changmin's eyes, their clear darkness pulling him in, enveloping him and he feels blood rushing in his ears. Please, please. Please.
"I love you," Changmin whispers, release loosening his tongue, the words falling from his lips as his head tilts back, fingers clenching in the sheets. "Love you, love you so much..."
Yunho chokes against the taste, takes it all, savors the moment. It could be their last. He releases into his hand with a muffled cry, body curling into itself at the foot of the cot, exhaustion lining every movement.
"Saranghae."
Breathes uneven, Changmin clutches at Yunho's shoulder, tries to draw him up, press their bodies close. They've never had the time before. They do now, and he wants it so badly he can taste it.
"Come here."
Cleaning himself up awkwardly, Yunho moves slowly, muscles protesting the strain.
"Good?" he asks, for the first time giving way to his concern, to his feelings. There's no reason to pretend or hide now.
Changmin swallows hard, trying to calm the rise and fall of his chest, pulling Yunho beside him, stroking the man's shoulder lightly with the back of his knuckles.
"Incredible," he says honestly, unable to look away from Yunho's eyes.
He's beautiful like this, Yunho thinks but keeps his thoughts to himself. Nodding, he lies down, skin against warm skin. How long has it been since he last held someone like this? Since someone held him?
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice trembling slightly; Maybe, just maybe this isn't the beginning of the end. Maybe he can let himself believe it.
The silence grows heavy between them, bordering on uncomfortable. Still too new, still too strange to be lying next to one another without ulterior motive. It's almost an afterglow and the concept is foreign enough between them to twist in Changmin's stomach. He doesn't want the other man to leave, not by a long shot, but to have him here, in his bed...he wants answers, and he's blurting out questions before he can even help himself.
"Why were you transferring me?"
Yunho's hands still in their caress.
"What?" He can't pretend not to have heard but he feels unease settle uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. "Why...? I told you why. It was a good... a good opportunity."
Changmin pulls back slightly, not meeting the other's gaze. His jaw tightens. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," Yunho protests, voice hardening. "You were my best pilot and the Acheron wasn't what it used to be. I wanted you to have a chance to rise through the ranks. Like you deserved to." If part of his reason was in his obsession with the man, Yunho can't admit it now. Why dig up the past?
He doesn't respond, twisting the sheet around his fingers. "Would...you have..." missed me "...found someone else?" The question is childish to his ears and he winces, still not looking at Yunho.
The older man sits up, sweat drying on his skin like exhaustion, like sunlight on Elysia. "I don't know what you want from me, Changmin. I don't know what to say to you." The truth is irrelevant, inapplicable any longer. The Acheron, transfers and their ranks are part of a life that doesn't count now. The stakes are different, the chess board too. "I know I don't want to lie."
He makes a nosie of frustration, turning to press his face in the pillow. "Nevermind. It was a stupid question. I just...I don't know who the hell I just slept with. You've never...I don't get it. I don't get why you'd send me away, but then leave everything to come find, what, my fucking corpse? And then you...you see that I'm not dead and you tell me it would've been better if I was?" His voice climbs in volume as the words come, until he cuts himself off, eyes squeezed shut.
Yunho watches him silently for a moment, his anger vivid in memory of the things he said, the things he thought about Changmin. They weren't wrong, but they were buried in misunderstanding of a world in which he didn't--doesn't belong.
"It was a mistake." He makes to stand, to gather his clothes and get out of here. He shouldn't have done this, his ego screams. Better judgment holds that he had to. Maybe he can let Changmin go now.
Changmin grabs his arm, fingernails almost digging into the other man's skin. "Don't you fucking dare. You don't get to tell me we're not discussing this and just leave. You don't. You say you love me, then back it up."
"With what?" Yunho grits out, snatching his arm free. "Apologies? I had to do what I did. I don't regret it." A glare in his direction. "Did you want to be the catamite of the fucking squadron for the rest of your career?"
He flinches as if struck, dropping his gaze. "I...I wanted...to be yours. Gods, Yunho. What does love from you even mean?"
"Good fucking question," Yunho snorts, reaching for his pants. How, after all that's happened, he can still be so cold? How can he even pretend not to care? How can Changmin buy into his bullshit? "Maybe it doesn't mean anything."
It's like he can't breathe and he doesn't understand how the other man can do this to him with just a few words, but fuck him. Fuck him, fuck him, Changmin won't let him. He moves to wrap his arms around Yunho's shoulders, holding in him place, more entrapment than embrace.
"Shut up," he hisses, pressed against the other man's back, mouth by his ear. "Just shut the fuck up. You're such an idiot. Such an idiot, but I'm not going to let you be, alright? I saw you. I saw you put that fucking gun to your head and I know you love me. Stop fucking punishing me for it."
Yunho turns with a grunt, trying to wrench himself free of Changmin's grasp and somehow ending up half propped over the younger man, pinning him against the bed. "I'm not trying to punish you. I'm not, alright? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. What do you even what from me? With me? Gods, you've got three men who want you... who... I know you slept with Jaejoong and Yoochun. I know they want you... Fuck, I don't know why I'm even here."
Changmin swallows hard, forcing himself not to drop the other man's gaze. "I know you slept with Junsu. It doesn't matter." A shaky breath. "I want you. I don't know how many ways I have to say it. I want you, I love you. I want..." He closes his eyes, easier to speak when Yunho's eyes aren't boring into his. "I want little things. I want to fall asleep with you. I want to be able to talk with you and hear you laugh and see you smile, cause you don't, not enough and I don't care anymore. I don't care if it makes me weak or naive, I just..."
The sounds of footsteps echo down the metal catwalk outside, bound for this room. It could be the Empress, though chances are it's one of the others.
Guilt and shame rising like bile in his mouth, Yunho moves to pull away.
"Don't," Changmin murmurs, feeling inexplicably young, tightening his hold on the other man. He can't give a fuck who's outside, he wasn't sacrificing this for anything.
Their eyes lock for a long moment and Yunho hesitates. It's long enough for the door to open with a soft click. Junsu steps in, looking haggard but otherwise alright.
"Oh... sorry to interrupt." He blushes, trying to leave.
A hand reaches out to stop him.
"Don't," Changmin says again, pushing past the fleeting jealousy, the small part of him that is loathe to share this. The greater part wants it, feels the incompleteness, can't stand to see Junsu so far away.
"Come here. Please."
Junsu looks torn. He takes the offered hand at Changmin's insistence, lets them pull him forward even as he looks painfully aware of what he's happened upon.
"The others are coming too... Yoochun couldn't keep his eyes open so Jiexi--the Empress sent us to get some sleep." He speaks to Changmin's lips, not daring to look up, to look at Yunho.
Changmin tugs him down onto the bed, fingers twining with his. Hands he's known, a mouth he's kissed, but never like this. He finds he wants to, that Junsu's assertion about the other two men doesn't dissuade him in the least. He strokes the back of Junsu's hand with his thumb, speaking to him, but looking at Yunho, a question in his eyes.
"We'll make room."
The cot is too small to fit them all together, so Yunho doesn't try. Instead, he slips away, allows Junsu to lie down in his place against Changmin's naked body.
"I've made too many fucking mistakes," he whispers to the floor, to the arch of Changmin's back. To them both. "But being with you isn't one of them."
Before Junsu can speak, the door opens again. Strange, considering the other two have their own bed, their own little room on this floating wreck.
Changmin looks up to meet Jaejoong's eyes in the darkness, trailing his fingertips over Junsu's chest. Yoochun lurks behind the slighter man, the light from the corridor painting a halo around them.
"Are we intruding?" Jaejoong asks softly, slipping a hand into Yoochun's, gaze flickering to meet all in turn.
Junsu's heart beats a wild rhythm under joined hands but he doesn't dare speak. Yunho's kiss at the nape of his neck is answer enough to Jaejoong's question.
Yoochun's hand doesn't leave Jaejoong's as they move forward into the room, as they take in Yunho's nude form, Changmin entwined with Junsu. Until wordlessly, he relinquishes his lover to sit in Yunho's lap, moving to push the cots together, the scrape of metal on the floor too loud on quiet ears. Jaejoong curls into Yunho's rigid form, still tired and still weak, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. Blithely unaware of Yunho's seeming discomfort, he darts the sharp tip of his tongue to Yunho's skin. The other man's arms come up to wrap around him hesitantly.
Changmin watches them, waiting for the familiar jealousy to beat in his chest but feeling only relief that Jaejoong is walking around, a small smile crossing his features at the sight of the other two. He tucks his chin against Junsu's shoulder, tightening his arms around him, watching as Yoochun kicks off his shoes before laying down on the now adjacent cot. The older man strips his belt to secure them together, giving Junsu a small grin at the other man's questioning look.
"Do you want to fall down the middle?" he teases softly, though exhaustion and constant worry are still heavy in his eyes. He leans to brush a kiss against each of their mouths in turn, shifting until he's lying down, nudging Yunho's leg with his foot. "He won't move until your legs fall asleep. Better to just lie down."
Yunho stays frozen for a moment, hope and desire waging a silent war inside him. There are no doubts as he lowers himself to the comfort of the thin mattress, Jaejoong's body effectively trapping him down like dead weight, Yoochun's warm at his side. Except he couldn't be more alive. Under different circumstances, he would be shuffling off to his duties, away from comfort he feels is undeserved. But Changmin's gaze is laden with questions he can't yet answer and he hasn't even begun to earn Junsu's forgiveness. There's so much here for him. There's so much to keep him from running.
He doesn't even attempt to.
They've come this far, the five of them.
They can go a little further.
To Be Continued…
… in Volume II: Acts of Insurrection
The sequel to Acts of Contrition
(Preview)
ONE
He’s been given the chance to wield enormous power like it’s the keys to a new landspeeder. No. Not a landspeeder. A war machine. And Gods, they expect him to take the controls and lead. He’s not ready, he doesn’t know enough but the forces that be have decided that this is his cross to bear. The forces that be or the Empress that is, he doesn’t care to make the difference. Her word is law and it skitters like ash, following his footsteps ghostly thin but present.
It’s time. You’ve been waiting for this all your life.
Except he hasn’t. And even if he had, it doesn’t matter anymore. He thinks of the two lovers he’s lost. Thinks of accusing eyes and fists and lips that once kissed his. They’re buried inside him skin-deep and this is no decision that he can take. No decision that anyone can sway.
There’s no decision for him to take at all. It’s already done.
TWO
He spits at them, arms bound, hair damp with sweat and stuck to his temples. It misses the mark, painting the floor with blood and saliva.
A blow to the stomach knocks the wind from him, bending him in half, the imprint of brass knuckles left in the hollows of his ribs. His legs threaten to give out under the next, their eyes and hands keeping him on his feet.
He smiles.
Grins through teeth stained crimson, dares them. Is this all, you bastards? Is this all?
It falters when he sees the knife.
THREE
Memories of failed simulations flash before his eyes as the fighter on his radar swerves abruptly. The man has a death wish, that’s clear and fucking obvious but he’s not letting it happen. He’s not losing another lover to those traitors even if it means pursuit with two skilled enemy birds on his six.
His comsys crackles with interference but still the leader’s voice comes strong and clear. “He’s heading right into their line of fire. He’s going to get hit.”
Behind incoming fighters, proton turrets rise from the ship’s belly, like snakes reaching for their prey. The lone craft before him doesn’t waver. He can’t help but think that even if they die today, at least it’ll be the best the other man has ever flown.
FOUR
His heart has pulled its way out of his throat and fallen behind, forgotten amongst rocks and sticks, mired in the dirt on the path.
It’s the only explanation for how he moves, tireless, pushing through dehydration and fatigue, running, running, falling to cut his hands, his face, picking himself up to run again. It’s automatic. Emotionless. Mechanical.
Run. Fall. Rise. Run. Repeat.
They look at him with wide eyes, unspeaking and he knows they can see the missing heart, the metal and bolts and stray parts that he’d become, purpose locking into place as he opens the gun cabinet, taking weapon after weapon down from their hooks, loading piece by piece, eyes like sheet rock.
Distant, abandoned, his heart bleeds.
FIVE
His breath rattles in his chest, air crawling past bleeding lips into an abused throat. Pipes leak somewhere close, the sound jarring in the stillness and he think of water torture and shudders. Leans his abused body against cold metal and shakes.
It’s nothing, he tells himself. He can push past it. Just pain, in the end, just blood and he sinks his teeth further into his lip to drive home the point. Hands rub at purpled skin, trying to find some warmth in the dank surroundings.
It doesn’t come, not when he can smell seared flesh and taste copper, bile rising in his throat.
Come for me, he thinks, and is still.
It's been a few days since Jaejoong got back on his feet, and he looks better. At last Yoochun can sleep without nightmares.
Their rooms are cell-like and he can't forget the last time he slept in a bed here. There are no nocturnal visits, except his own. He sleeps alone and touches no one, but it's enough to see the other four draw comfort from fleeting touches and whispered words. He doesn't try to be a part of it, or show how much he misses them.
One night, overwhelmed with fatigue, he falls into the wrong bed and realizes his mistake only too late. Changmin's eyes are wide open in the dark.
"You okay?" The protector in him rises to the surface immediately. "Nightmare?" They've got plenty to fear, in waking moments as well as in not so peaceful slumber. War can do that to a person.
"Would have to sleep for that to happen," he murmurs, fingers nevertheless curling around Yunho's wrist, keeping him in place. "Are you?" Changmin shifts under the blanket, grasp tightening briefly. "You look like utter hell."
"I'm fine," Yunho insists, mechanically. It's not nearly enough for Changmin. He deserves more than that. "I'm coping. There's a lot to do." He doesn't leave the bed, as he might have if Changmin was asleep. "How are the others?"
"Yoochun won't let Jaejoong out of his sight," he tells him, a sad smile quirking his lips. "I think Jae's starting to get frustrated with the hovering, but he's keeping quiet if he is. Junsu's with them now, I think."
His thumb strokes the inside of Yunho's palm tentatively. "I'm more concerned with you right now. Have you eaten anything?"
"Yeah, I had breakfast." He can't remember how long ago that was. It doesn't seem relevant when there's so much to do and so little time. His hand closes around Changmin's, clutching it in a tight grip. It's what he must do if he wants to feel the featherlight touch.
"The proteined stuff they keep isn't such a loss anyway." As necessary as it is to stay alive, the taste leaves much to be desired.
Changmin holds the clasped hand in place, making a small noise of disapproval at the answer. He tugs a corner of the blanket up and over the other man, shifting closer, sharing warmth and touch.
"You've been avoiding me," he notes quietly, the tone more concern than accusation.
"I've been giving you space," Yunho retorts. If he's kept to himself, it hasn't been because he doesn't care. He closes his eyes, enjoying the foreign feel of somebody's body pressed against his. Even if it doesn't last, he has this for now.
Changmin breathes a sigh, reaching up hesitantly to run his fingers through Yunho's hair, unsure if this is allowed. If his touch is welcome.
"You know," he starts, voice even, "for such a great leader, you're just...you're such a fucking dumbass."
Startled, Yunho chuckles. "Am I? Who're you to judge?" He doesn't take offense so much as finds himself surprised. He always could trust Changmin to be honest. "When did you last eat?" he asks, without giving the other man time to answer. Dumbass or not, he can still try to take care of them.
"An hour ago," Changmin mutters, moving still closer, tucking his head against Yunho's shoulder. Neither wind, rain or pain of death is any legitimate force against his appetite. He sighs soflty, daring a kiss to the man's clavicle. He's missed the solid feel of Yunho under his hands, the muscles under warm skin, the broad shoulders and refined features.
"Good," Yunho sighs, eyes falling shut again. "I need to... get back..." Changmin's kiss is unexpected but not unwelcome. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around the other man's back, stroking the nape of his neck. "It's been a while."
Changmin swallows hard, feeling a weight lift off his chest as strong arms encircle his slender frame, the soft caress of fingertips stroking away the tension that lingers in him.
"It's been too long," he corrects, hand settling on the small of Yunho's back, drawing back until he can meet the older man's eyes. "Stay with me."
Yunho nods, for the first time unsure. He's seen him with the others, with Junsu. He wonders if they know, he hopes they don't. It's sad, and pathetic, but he should be above needing human contact by now. He should be used to it.
"Come here," he asks, evenly, without begging, without ordering. Come closer, he means, come into me.
Here, in the dark, he recognizes his fears. They're too big to be ignored anymore.
And Changmin does. It's as simple as that, permission given and he's pressing himself against Yunho's length, lips hovering inches away, still hesitating to kiss him. His place in their relationship drilled into him for so long. But Yunho is not his commanding officer anymore, is not his superior, not outside of this room and not in this bed. And it's about time they were on equal footing.
He captures the other man's lips, fingers sliding through his hair.
Yunho smiles into the kiss, wraps his arms tighter around a young back. He lets Changmin's warmth invade him, lets it consume him from within. It's intense and unsettling, but he makes no attempt to take over.
Changmin is right. It's been too long, but he didn't dare assume--didn't think they could ever get back to being together like this. Changmin has the others and Yunho has seen their love for him; believes in it wholeheartedly.
"You've changed so much," he breathes, shaking with pent up tension, with time he's wasted.
Changmin pants slightly against the other man's jaw, fingertips stroking along his spine.
"Is that bad?" he whispers, a hint of vulnerability in his tone, the other man's harsh words still echoing in his ears.
Yunho shakes his head, a fraction of an inch. "Never." Pressing palms under Changmin's shirt, he feels bare skin he hasn't touched since the Acheron. He feels himself harden in response, feels Changmin's thighs part around his leg and despite fatigue, this is the only form of heaven he'll ever taste. It doesn't feel like settling.
Changmin's breath catches at the slide of calloused palms over his skin, mouth finding Yunho's once again, a growing erection tenting the thin material of his underwear. He shifts against Yunho's thigh, groaning softly.
Missed you so much, he wants to say, "Missed this."
"Me too," Yunho hurries to agree, as if by sheer willpower he can make Changmin want him again. Release is easy to share between men on a crowded warship; it doesn't have to be more than that.
But Changmin's not the only one to have changed. Something nameless and heavy weighs in his chest, keeps him from pinning Changmin to the bed and taking him like he used to. Something makes him try to coax out the other man's pleasure.
The rushed assurance causes warmth to unfurl in his chest, Yunho's questing hands drawing low, muted nosies from the back of his throat, shifting closer as if he could crawl inside the other man. Hands go to the close of Yunho's trousers, undoing them then his own, making to shift onto his stomach.
"No!" The word is wrenched from Yunho's lips as he shakes his head quickly. "No. Not like that." Trembling at the feel of Changmin's cock brushing against his own, he shakes his head again. "Not unless it's what you want."
And if it is, he'll be careful. He won't make the same mistakes twice.
Freezing at the other man's words, Changmin meets his gaze, uncertain, reaching up to stroke a hand through Yunho's hair, trying to soothe whatever it is that put that note of fear in the other man's voice.
"I want you," he said quietly, pressing their hips together. "I don't care how."
"I do," Yunho retorts, just as softly. This isn't just about sex. It shouldn't be. Reaching down between them, he wraps his fist around Changmin's erection. Memories course through him.
"Gods, Changmin."
He whimpers at the touch, the sound in his ears making him flush, head falling against the pillow.
"Yunho..." he bites his lip against the honorific that wants to follow, thrusting into the other man's touch.
"I don't trust myself around you," Yunho continues, savoring the sound of his name on Changmin's lips. "I've hurt you so much already." His hand strokes a fast, relentless rhythm, one he knows well. This isn't the first time he's been with Changmin, not by far, but it's one of the few where all that matters is Changmin's pleasure.
Changmin's hand clutches at the other man's shoulder, small noises falling from his lips with each stroke.
"Yeah," he chokes. "You have. It's okay."
Love you anyway.
It's okay. It isn't, not by a long shot and Yunho knows it, but he can make believe.
Changmin's breath on his lips is harsher than ever, broken, interrupted by soft sounds of pleasure. He hears his lover try to silence them, wishes he wouldn't. His lips trace Changmin's collarbone, the play of muscles on his chest, and for the first time, Yunho gets down on his knees before him.
He nearly comes at the sight, a choked "what are you..." dying on his lips as the other man takes him into his mouth, eyes sliding shut in bliss.
Yunho is unpracticed he can tell, and rather than detract from the experience, it adds to it, the knowledge that this proud, beautiful man is doing for him what he's done for so few others. He threads his fingers through Yunho's hair, not pulling, encouraging, a moan building in his chest.
The movement is foreign, but not the taste, not the feelings behind it. Yunho draws from little to no experience, but plenty of desire. He's dreamed of this, on his back, in the middle of lonely fucking nights.
A glance in Changmin's direction tells him it might have been a shared dream.
"Missed you so much." The words tumble from his lips on a whisper, arching against the mattress. "Thought...thought about you all the time...I..."
A groan cuts off the words, hand fisting in the sheets.
"Hyung..."
Yunho moans at the words spilling from Changmin's lips, wishing to hear more, wishing to hear everything the younger man has to say. His hand slips between his own thighs, his arousal heavy and hot. He needs release like he needs Changmin. In equal measure both, but Changmin first, always first.
He pulls away, looking up at his lover with a heated gaze. "Say that again."
Changmin watches the older man touch himself with dark, lust-filled eyes, his own hand slipping over his chest, stroking idly.
"Hyung," he breathes, the remnants of his language heavy on his tongue. "Saranghae."
He wills Yunho to understand, too cowardly still to say it plain.
For a moment, Yunho frowns, not understanding, forgetting the easy rhythm of his mouth. He doesn't understand, but he wishes he did. Wishes he could measure up to all that's expected, fearing he can't.
Bending low between Changmin's thighs, he wills him to speak with his lips on his erection, to keep speaking until he's said all he has to say. They've kept silent for too long.
"Yunho hyung," Changmin groans, unable to part with the honorific now that it's been allowed, asked for. There's a change in Yunho, not just in actions. In his eyes, a softness that Changmin hasn't seen in him before.
"I'm c-close, please..."
He remembers words of love spat at him like an accusation; wants to hear them again, to hear them as a lover should. Wanting them to be true.
Yunho tries. Moaning into the soft skin in time with the movements of his hand, he hollows his cheeks. He wants to bring Changmin pleasure, wants to help the other man remember they used to be good together. It doesn't have to mean anything anymore. Looking up, he meets Changmin's eyes, their clear darkness pulling him in, enveloping him and he feels blood rushing in his ears. Please, please. Please.
"I love you," Changmin whispers, release loosening his tongue, the words falling from his lips as his head tilts back, fingers clenching in the sheets. "Love you, love you so much..."
Yunho chokes against the taste, takes it all, savors the moment. It could be their last. He releases into his hand with a muffled cry, body curling into itself at the foot of the cot, exhaustion lining every movement.
"Saranghae."
Breathes uneven, Changmin clutches at Yunho's shoulder, tries to draw him up, press their bodies close. They've never had the time before. They do now, and he wants it so badly he can taste it.
"Come here."
Cleaning himself up awkwardly, Yunho moves slowly, muscles protesting the strain.
"Good?" he asks, for the first time giving way to his concern, to his feelings. There's no reason to pretend or hide now.
Changmin swallows hard, trying to calm the rise and fall of his chest, pulling Yunho beside him, stroking the man's shoulder lightly with the back of his knuckles.
"Incredible," he says honestly, unable to look away from Yunho's eyes.
He's beautiful like this, Yunho thinks but keeps his thoughts to himself. Nodding, he lies down, skin against warm skin. How long has it been since he last held someone like this? Since someone held him?
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice trembling slightly; Maybe, just maybe this isn't the beginning of the end. Maybe he can let himself believe it.
The silence grows heavy between them, bordering on uncomfortable. Still too new, still too strange to be lying next to one another without ulterior motive. It's almost an afterglow and the concept is foreign enough between them to twist in Changmin's stomach. He doesn't want the other man to leave, not by a long shot, but to have him here, in his bed...he wants answers, and he's blurting out questions before he can even help himself.
"Why were you transferring me?"
Yunho's hands still in their caress.
"What?" He can't pretend not to have heard but he feels unease settle uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. "Why...? I told you why. It was a good... a good opportunity."
Changmin pulls back slightly, not meeting the other's gaze. His jaw tightens. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," Yunho protests, voice hardening. "You were my best pilot and the Acheron wasn't what it used to be. I wanted you to have a chance to rise through the ranks. Like you deserved to." If part of his reason was in his obsession with the man, Yunho can't admit it now. Why dig up the past?
He doesn't respond, twisting the sheet around his fingers. "Would...you have..." missed me "...found someone else?" The question is childish to his ears and he winces, still not looking at Yunho.
The older man sits up, sweat drying on his skin like exhaustion, like sunlight on Elysia. "I don't know what you want from me, Changmin. I don't know what to say to you." The truth is irrelevant, inapplicable any longer. The Acheron, transfers and their ranks are part of a life that doesn't count now. The stakes are different, the chess board too. "I know I don't want to lie."
He makes a nosie of frustration, turning to press his face in the pillow. "Nevermind. It was a stupid question. I just...I don't know who the hell I just slept with. You've never...I don't get it. I don't get why you'd send me away, but then leave everything to come find, what, my fucking corpse? And then you...you see that I'm not dead and you tell me it would've been better if I was?" His voice climbs in volume as the words come, until he cuts himself off, eyes squeezed shut.
Yunho watches him silently for a moment, his anger vivid in memory of the things he said, the things he thought about Changmin. They weren't wrong, but they were buried in misunderstanding of a world in which he didn't--doesn't belong.
"It was a mistake." He makes to stand, to gather his clothes and get out of here. He shouldn't have done this, his ego screams. Better judgment holds that he had to. Maybe he can let Changmin go now.
Changmin grabs his arm, fingernails almost digging into the other man's skin. "Don't you fucking dare. You don't get to tell me we're not discussing this and just leave. You don't. You say you love me, then back it up."
"With what?" Yunho grits out, snatching his arm free. "Apologies? I had to do what I did. I don't regret it." A glare in his direction. "Did you want to be the catamite of the fucking squadron for the rest of your career?"
He flinches as if struck, dropping his gaze. "I...I wanted...to be yours. Gods, Yunho. What does love from you even mean?"
"Good fucking question," Yunho snorts, reaching for his pants. How, after all that's happened, he can still be so cold? How can he even pretend not to care? How can Changmin buy into his bullshit? "Maybe it doesn't mean anything."
It's like he can't breathe and he doesn't understand how the other man can do this to him with just a few words, but fuck him. Fuck him, fuck him, Changmin won't let him. He moves to wrap his arms around Yunho's shoulders, holding in him place, more entrapment than embrace.
"Shut up," he hisses, pressed against the other man's back, mouth by his ear. "Just shut the fuck up. You're such an idiot. Such an idiot, but I'm not going to let you be, alright? I saw you. I saw you put that fucking gun to your head and I know you love me. Stop fucking punishing me for it."
Yunho turns with a grunt, trying to wrench himself free of Changmin's grasp and somehow ending up half propped over the younger man, pinning him against the bed. "I'm not trying to punish you. I'm not, alright? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. What do you even what from me? With me? Gods, you've got three men who want you... who... I know you slept with Jaejoong and Yoochun. I know they want you... Fuck, I don't know why I'm even here."
Changmin swallows hard, forcing himself not to drop the other man's gaze. "I know you slept with Junsu. It doesn't matter." A shaky breath. "I want you. I don't know how many ways I have to say it. I want you, I love you. I want..." He closes his eyes, easier to speak when Yunho's eyes aren't boring into his. "I want little things. I want to fall asleep with you. I want to be able to talk with you and hear you laugh and see you smile, cause you don't, not enough and I don't care anymore. I don't care if it makes me weak or naive, I just..."
The sounds of footsteps echo down the metal catwalk outside, bound for this room. It could be the Empress, though chances are it's one of the others.
Guilt and shame rising like bile in his mouth, Yunho moves to pull away.
"Don't," Changmin murmurs, feeling inexplicably young, tightening his hold on the other man. He can't give a fuck who's outside, he wasn't sacrificing this for anything.
Their eyes lock for a long moment and Yunho hesitates. It's long enough for the door to open with a soft click. Junsu steps in, looking haggard but otherwise alright.
"Oh... sorry to interrupt." He blushes, trying to leave.
A hand reaches out to stop him.
"Don't," Changmin says again, pushing past the fleeting jealousy, the small part of him that is loathe to share this. The greater part wants it, feels the incompleteness, can't stand to see Junsu so far away.
"Come here. Please."
Junsu looks torn. He takes the offered hand at Changmin's insistence, lets them pull him forward even as he looks painfully aware of what he's happened upon.
"The others are coming too... Yoochun couldn't keep his eyes open so Jiexi--the Empress sent us to get some sleep." He speaks to Changmin's lips, not daring to look up, to look at Yunho.
Changmin tugs him down onto the bed, fingers twining with his. Hands he's known, a mouth he's kissed, but never like this. He finds he wants to, that Junsu's assertion about the other two men doesn't dissuade him in the least. He strokes the back of Junsu's hand with his thumb, speaking to him, but looking at Yunho, a question in his eyes.
"We'll make room."
The cot is too small to fit them all together, so Yunho doesn't try. Instead, he slips away, allows Junsu to lie down in his place against Changmin's naked body.
"I've made too many fucking mistakes," he whispers to the floor, to the arch of Changmin's back. To them both. "But being with you isn't one of them."
Before Junsu can speak, the door opens again. Strange, considering the other two have their own bed, their own little room on this floating wreck.
Changmin looks up to meet Jaejoong's eyes in the darkness, trailing his fingertips over Junsu's chest. Yoochun lurks behind the slighter man, the light from the corridor painting a halo around them.
"Are we intruding?" Jaejoong asks softly, slipping a hand into Yoochun's, gaze flickering to meet all in turn.
Junsu's heart beats a wild rhythm under joined hands but he doesn't dare speak. Yunho's kiss at the nape of his neck is answer enough to Jaejoong's question.
Yoochun's hand doesn't leave Jaejoong's as they move forward into the room, as they take in Yunho's nude form, Changmin entwined with Junsu. Until wordlessly, he relinquishes his lover to sit in Yunho's lap, moving to push the cots together, the scrape of metal on the floor too loud on quiet ears. Jaejoong curls into Yunho's rigid form, still tired and still weak, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. Blithely unaware of Yunho's seeming discomfort, he darts the sharp tip of his tongue to Yunho's skin. The other man's arms come up to wrap around him hesitantly.
Changmin watches them, waiting for the familiar jealousy to beat in his chest but feeling only relief that Jaejoong is walking around, a small smile crossing his features at the sight of the other two. He tucks his chin against Junsu's shoulder, tightening his arms around him, watching as Yoochun kicks off his shoes before laying down on the now adjacent cot. The older man strips his belt to secure them together, giving Junsu a small grin at the other man's questioning look.
"Do you want to fall down the middle?" he teases softly, though exhaustion and constant worry are still heavy in his eyes. He leans to brush a kiss against each of their mouths in turn, shifting until he's lying down, nudging Yunho's leg with his foot. "He won't move until your legs fall asleep. Better to just lie down."
Yunho stays frozen for a moment, hope and desire waging a silent war inside him. There are no doubts as he lowers himself to the comfort of the thin mattress, Jaejoong's body effectively trapping him down like dead weight, Yoochun's warm at his side. Except he couldn't be more alive. Under different circumstances, he would be shuffling off to his duties, away from comfort he feels is undeserved. But Changmin's gaze is laden with questions he can't yet answer and he hasn't even begun to earn Junsu's forgiveness. There's so much here for him. There's so much to keep him from running.
He doesn't even attempt to.
They've come this far, the five of them.
They can go a little further.
To Be Continued…
… in Volume II: Acts of Insurrection
The sequel to Acts of Contrition
(Preview)
ONE
He’s been given the chance to wield enormous power like it’s the keys to a new landspeeder. No. Not a landspeeder. A war machine. And Gods, they expect him to take the controls and lead. He’s not ready, he doesn’t know enough but the forces that be have decided that this is his cross to bear. The forces that be or the Empress that is, he doesn’t care to make the difference. Her word is law and it skitters like ash, following his footsteps ghostly thin but present.
It’s time. You’ve been waiting for this all your life.
Except he hasn’t. And even if he had, it doesn’t matter anymore. He thinks of the two lovers he’s lost. Thinks of accusing eyes and fists and lips that once kissed his. They’re buried inside him skin-deep and this is no decision that he can take. No decision that anyone can sway.
There’s no decision for him to take at all. It’s already done.
TWO
He spits at them, arms bound, hair damp with sweat and stuck to his temples. It misses the mark, painting the floor with blood and saliva.
A blow to the stomach knocks the wind from him, bending him in half, the imprint of brass knuckles left in the hollows of his ribs. His legs threaten to give out under the next, their eyes and hands keeping him on his feet.
He smiles.
Grins through teeth stained crimson, dares them. Is this all, you bastards? Is this all?
It falters when he sees the knife.
THREE
Memories of failed simulations flash before his eyes as the fighter on his radar swerves abruptly. The man has a death wish, that’s clear and fucking obvious but he’s not letting it happen. He’s not losing another lover to those traitors even if it means pursuit with two skilled enemy birds on his six.
His comsys crackles with interference but still the leader’s voice comes strong and clear. “He’s heading right into their line of fire. He’s going to get hit.”
Behind incoming fighters, proton turrets rise from the ship’s belly, like snakes reaching for their prey. The lone craft before him doesn’t waver. He can’t help but think that even if they die today, at least it’ll be the best the other man has ever flown.
FOUR
His heart has pulled its way out of his throat and fallen behind, forgotten amongst rocks and sticks, mired in the dirt on the path.
It’s the only explanation for how he moves, tireless, pushing through dehydration and fatigue, running, running, falling to cut his hands, his face, picking himself up to run again. It’s automatic. Emotionless. Mechanical.
Run. Fall. Rise. Run. Repeat.
They look at him with wide eyes, unspeaking and he knows they can see the missing heart, the metal and bolts and stray parts that he’d become, purpose locking into place as he opens the gun cabinet, taking weapon after weapon down from their hooks, loading piece by piece, eyes like sheet rock.
Distant, abandoned, his heart bleeds.
FIVE
His breath rattles in his chest, air crawling past bleeding lips into an abused throat. Pipes leak somewhere close, the sound jarring in the stillness and he think of water torture and shudders. Leans his abused body against cold metal and shakes.
It’s nothing, he tells himself. He can push past it. Just pain, in the end, just blood and he sinks his teeth further into his lip to drive home the point. Hands rub at purpled skin, trying to find some warmth in the dank surroundings.
It doesn’t come, not when he can smell seared flesh and taste copper, bile rising in his throat.
Come for me, he thinks, and is still.