(no subject)
Title: Dune (8/8)
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Genre: Sci Fi, AU to our "Acts" AU
Rating: R to NC-17
Pairing: Yunho/Yoochun
Summary: Enemies as members of opposing factions, they have to fight to survive as they are landed in unusual circumstances
Warnings: swearing, violence and sexual themes.
AN: Inspired by the premise of Barry B. Longyear's Enemy Mine.
AN2: Not a formal part of our multi-chaptered Acts of Contrition and Acts of Insurrection storyline but using elements of both.
Chapter 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7
The sheets are warm as he pulls them aside, sliding into bed alongside the other man. He stares up at the ceiling, listening to Yunho's quiet breathing. Right beside him and still the man feels a hundred miles away. Biting his lip intently, he shifts to his side, resting a hand on the other man's back. Hating how tentative it is.
Like it's the first time all over again. Like it's the last.
Fingers barely skim the smoothness of a bony hip before drawing back as Yunho turns to him. On him. Dark eyes dance with unfamiliar shapes in the strange, alien lighting. They settle on him coldly, a strange counterpoint to the hands that cup his cheeks, to the lips that press against his harshly. There's gentleness there that's got no place between them and he finds himself tugging down, desperate to recover some of what they were, some of what they used to be before this strange place.
He wraps his fingers around the nape of Yunho's neck, almost desperately, legs hooking around the slimness of the other man's waist, already filling out from three square meals and rest.
He doesn't say please, won't say it, but he begs him just the same, with fingertips and tongue and teeth.
The other man is unhurried in his movements and strangely reverent, sliding down his body and taking the sheet with him. Yoochun has visions of a time not so long ago when his lover knelt on the floor of their broken-down craft and under the warmth of the thermo-blanket, working his passion to a pitch with his mouth and swallowing his release like he knows he'll do now, if he lets him. Not that the two are comparable. Not that it was ever like this, between them.
Yunho hides his face in the hollow of his hip, lips pressed into a fine dusting of dark curls. Yoochun bites his lip and wills himself to relax enough, to give his chance a body to respond to the familiar touch. This is probably the last time, anyway.
The last time, and Yunho knows it.
He's saying goodbye.
A sudden, flare of anger lights up in Yoochun's chest, teeth clenching together until his jaw aches. "Stop," he hisses suddenly, eyes stinging. "Stop, get off me."
If they don't say goodbye...then maybe...
It bothers him like it never did before that the other man is so fucking selfless. He's off him in an instant, perched over his side and laying a comforting hand over his chest as if it's meant to show affection, as if it's supposed to make him remember.
There's nothing to remember. What they had for two short months is gone. It can't be recovered. It's over.
"What's wrong?" Yunho frowns, uncomprehending. Misunderstanding.
As much as it disgusts him, he can't bring himself to push the other man's hand away. Still craves his touch. It does nothing to calm him. Instead, he lets his words do it for him.
"What are you doing?" he hisses, features set in anger. "What's the point? You can't wait a few hours to pick up some whore back on Attica? A girlfriend. Wife, even?"
Yunho recoils as if stung but his hand stays in place, fingers digging into the flesh in punishment. "I thought you wanted it. Me." He shrugs but offers no rebuff. It only angers Yoochun even more. That's not how it is between them. They don't just take what the other gives.
"Goodbye fucks are a mite depressing."
Yunho simply stares at him, features impassive, and god, Yoochun hates him, hates him so much.
"Is that what this is?"
Yoochun sneers at him. "It's all it ever was. Don't fucking kid yourself. You aren't stuck with me anymore." It's not just the two of them stuck on a fucking rock, out of the way of civilization like in some romantic novel. They're back in the world now, they're people, if not soldiers. And even if he doesn't have anything to go back to, he's sure Yunho does; a place in society, at the very least.
After all, the damn Guard hasn't been disbanded. The Empress caved in, the Admiral agreed to let her bear his children and they haven't done anything to change the world Yoochun still hates so much. He was willing to die for that dream and take Yunho with him.
"It's all a fucking waste," he snaps, shoving Yunho's shoulder and sitting up, his knees drawn up to his chest.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" The other man bites out, jaw tight and eyes dark and hard as obsidian. "Why are you acting like a fucking child?"
His head snaps up, fury etched on his features before he scrambles from the bed, moving to dress. He doesn't have to take the other man's bullshit anymore. He doesn't have to take him. "Fuck you," he mutters, finding Yunho's clothes wherever he reaches for his own.
A hand on his shoulder jerks him back, Yunho's lips in a thin line. "Get over yourself. We're not dead. Fuck the goddamn war!" He thrusts a knife into his fist, the same one he's had strapped to his thigh since they crashed here. "You want to go back to trying to kill each other?"
His fingers clench around the knife, biting into his lip.
"You don't understand," he hisses. "You never did and you never will. The war is over and everything with it because She gave up! I gave her my life and She fucking gave up!" He's choking on the words, on his fury and loss and confusion. "You're leaving and you know what? Fine. Go. Go back to your fucking life. Where the hell could I possibly belong in it?"
"As if I could ever belong in your life!" Yunho shouts, mirroring his stance. He pins his palms flat against the wall, bowing his head forward. Deep breaths slide over Yoochun's shoulder, but they do nothing to calm the other man. "I do understand..." He looks up and Yoochun turns the knife until the sharp edge is pressed into his palm. "She saved you. I do understand that."
He clenches his jaw, face hot, the knife digging into his skin, not quite enough to draw blood.
"Stop..." he breathes, shaking his head. "You can't just...You don't know. I want revenge. I want people to pay and they won't. There's no fucking justice for them, for my family, for Jaejoong. For me. There's nothing but a one way ticket back to it all."
Alone, all over again.
The other man offers no comforting, empty words and at least for that, he's thankful. Less so when Yunho presses his lips into the side of his neck, mouthing something that could just as well be his name and just as well be an apology.
"I thought you hated this planet," Yunho whispers, tracing his jawline with his lips.
His breath shudders, a hand coming up clutch at the other man's bicep. "When we were there..." He closes his eyes tightly, trying to hold the words back. They won't make a difference anyway.
He fails. "You promised not to leave me."
Yunho draws back, looking straight into his eyes, his expression unreadable. "You don't want me to leave?" He sounds almost surprised, even if he barely lets on.
"No." He grits his teeth. "No, you moron." Yoochun looks away, eyes wet and damn the fact that he still cries so easily, even after all this time. "Do you...you want to leave?"
A hand grasps his chin, turning his features back to meet Yunho's. "And you say I'm the moron, you dumb fuck."
Chapped lips meet his insistently, leaving no room to refuse.
His back crashes into the wall, startling a mirror out of its frame and to the floor. Yunho's hips pin his down insistently, fingers winding around his as he presses his hands above his head.
"Oh no..." Yoochun draws back, licking his lips as a tremor passes through him. "Seven years' bad luck."
Yunho's body relaxes into his own. "I love you," he gasps out, the response as much of a shock to him as it is to Yoochun.
Yoochun loses his breath, head titled back against the wall as he tries to force his heart to beat again. Oh God. "See," he whispers with a breathless laugh. "Bad luck." He kisses Yunho harshly before the other man can reply, pressing his body close. "Now you'll never get rid of me."
"Good."
Teeth bite into his bottom lip, stopping short of pain even as they awaken dormant passion. Dark eyes mirror what he sees. Love. Useless and fucking broken as they are, with no hope, no plans for the future and so many differences to separate them that they might as well belong to different species, Yunho loves him.
He threads his fingers through the other man's hair, clenching perhaps a bit to tight but Yunho offers no complaint.
"I love you, too." He murmurs, putting every ounce of sincerity into the terrifying words that he can.
The other man smiles, too bright for Yoochun's eyes, pushing him back and onto the bed, moving to straddle him.
"Well, yeah. Obviously."
Warm hands slide up along his ribs, a soft, full mouth tracing patterns along his jaw. Yoochun turns to catch the other man's earlobe between his teeth, fingernails digging into his shoulder. "Luckily," he murmurs, drawing back to bring their mouths together firmly.
Yunho grins into the kiss, trailing his hands from his shoulders to his arms and pinning his hands above his head. "Look who's coy now," he chuckles, pressing his lips to Yoochun's pulse point and sucking lightly. Life. They've survived.
Yoochun takes a shuddering breath, writhing a little under Yunho, shifting his hips upward. "Shut up. You know it turns you on." He grins wickedly, even if Yunho can't see it.
The other man groans, sitting back on his haunches and dragging Yoochun's hands into his lap. They haven't been together like this since leaving their sunken crafts, but where soft sheets and pre-processed air is new, the softness of Yunho's skin is the same, his warmth, the hollows of his hips unchanged. He slides against him, the roughness of cloth a strange counterpoint.
Yoochun looks up at him with lips parted, wrapping a hand around the other's length. Pushing himself up onto one elbow, he presses his mouth over his heart, darting the tip of his tongue out to taste.
"You want to fuck me?"
He receives a sharp bite to his neck for the question, Yunho's arms slipping under his and trailing over his back. In the modified cockpit, under the small thermo-blanket, they barely had room to hold each other properly. Here, Yunho pushes him back down and lies over him, spread eagled and hard, grinning like an idiot.
Yoochun tugs at his hair. "Do you?" It's pointless to ask, but he wants to hear it, wants to cling to the words because they're all he has.
"Yes."
The affirmation brings his own too-wide smile to his lips, thrusting upwards once again until their erections brush, gasping. "Then what the hell are you waiting for?"
"Shut your face," Yunho shoots back, leaning down to kiss him instead, the edge in his words completely erased by the gentle press of lips to his own. It belies the torturous way he lingers above him, propped on strong arms like a tiger. He draws back on his knees, working his pants off and over the side of the bed. "Waiting for this."
Yoochun's reply is lost in a startled cry. One of these days, he's going to ask Yunho about his oral fixation. One of these days, maybe. Right now, all he can think is 'more'. Damn the soldier for always knowing how to shut him up quickly and efficiently. It's a cheap trick.
He lets out harsh, stilted breaths, running his fingers rhythmically through dark hair. "Gods...Yunho, that's...gods..."
Quickly and efficiently, but not completely.
"You taste good," he hears whispered against his thigh, the other man knowing what to do only too well. It's why he looks up when he feels him pull back, already trying to gather his wits to roll over onto his front.
Yunho smirks, one hand between his legs and stroking lightly. "You like it too much."
Yoochun gives him a lazy grin, trailing a hand along his stomach and letting his eyes fall closed. "Damn right. I'd like it even more if you fucked me already." Despite the urgency in his words, he can't quite deny that he likes the unhurried pace of their lovemaking. Yoochun's face heats at the sound of the word echoing in his thoughts. Lovemaking, he thinks again, licking his lips. It fits.
"You're blushing," Yunho grins even wider, knees parted around Yoochun's body and hands drawing up his own legs until the feet rest on cooling sheets. Plucking the same vial of liquid that they used for soothing aches and pains and the remnants of wounds that barely had time to heal, he presses a kiss to a bruise on Yoochun's thigh, one he can't remember where he got or how.
He dimly thinks he should tell him to shut up but his breath is strangely absent, a low groan being the only thing to pass his lips. Twisting his fingers in the sheet, he inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Please," he chokes.
"No begging," the other man whispers, slicking his fingers. "Open your eyes."
As always, as he's used to, by now, Yoochun obeys, trying to glare but finding he can't, not when Yunho is looking up at him like he's holy. He doesn't know what to do or say under that gaze and he his only recourse is a plaintive moan, hips shivering under a cool, controlled touch. He watches him through half-lidded eyes, teeth digging into his lip.
A slick touch brushes over his entrance, a touch he hasn't felt in what seems like forever and never like this, not with his heart hammering in his chest and small noises catching in his throat.
"Don't tease me," he manages, head tilting back against the pillow.
Yunho doesn't answer but he takes the message. Fingers slide into him, two in one go and it's too much, he's too tight and it's uncomfortable, unpleasant, at least until Yunho leans down again and moves his mouth to his erection as precisely as he moves his fingers. Distantly, Yoochun figures he's done this before.
"Fuck, you're good," he breathes, shifting on the other man's fingers, wincing through the pleasure. "Don't let it go to your...to your head..."
He feels the vibrations of a soft laugh around his length, startling another moan from his lips even as Yunho finds his prostate. Digging his fists into the sheets, he arches in response, air leaving his lungs in broken cries that may be his lover's name. Pathetically wanton it may be, but he doesn't care. It's Yunho, on his knees, touching him like this. Loving him.
"Stop... gods, stop..."
A hand tightens on his hip. "Yoochun," his name is low on the other man's lips, his motions stilling. "You okay?"
Concern is palpable in a way he can taste on his lips, though dimly, he realizes he's probably punctured a bleeding hole with his teeth. "You're killing me here," he explains, choked and trembling. "I'm sure this is all... part of your evil Guard plan, but can you just..." He heaves a breath, lungs working independently of his mind. "Just hurry up?"
Yunho moves up to place a kiss over Yoochun's heart. The action makes his eyes sting. "I want to take my time with you," the other man murmurs.
A breathless laugh, tinged with fondness. "We have plenty of time, dumbass. Now fuck me before I kick your ass." A slow grin lights up the other man's features, withdrawing his fingers to clutch Yoochun's hips, pulling him into place.
"Put your legs around me, dumbass," Yunho retorts, archly copying his tone and address. He's never looked so relaxed before and Yoochun thinks it's a good look on him. It's the last thought to cross his mind before all is obliterated and all he can taste is the pain of being breached. Taken. Fucked. Everything he's hated and feared and asked for. "I'm sorry," he hears whispered into his skin and feels Yunho tremble.
The ceiling in their room is white and dotted with lightbulbs. Yoochun imagines the sky instead, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders. "You're inside me..."
The other man is still, rubbing lightly at the sharp jut of his hip. "Yeah," he breathes, and the words are ragged. "I am." Fingertips brush the corner of Yoochun's mouth. "I love you."
He catches his hand, tugging him down because he's too far, too serious, and smiles.
They've got no work, no friends, no home. They're drifters in a world that's changed irrevocably. Yunho's family will never accept him and his own entourage--whatever's left of it after the war--would never allow one of their own to be in love with the enemy. They're royally screwed and yet he's never been happier. Hands cup his cheeks like they belong there. And when he's finally spread on the sheets, oil slick and panting, looking up into Yunho's eyes as he moves above and inside him, his body taunt with tension, he knows that somehow, they will survive this.
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Genre: Sci Fi, AU to our "Acts" AU
Rating: R to NC-17
Pairing: Yunho/Yoochun
Summary: Enemies as members of opposing factions, they have to fight to survive as they are landed in unusual circumstances
Warnings: swearing, violence and sexual themes.
AN: Inspired by the premise of Barry B. Longyear's Enemy Mine.
AN2: Not a formal part of our multi-chaptered Acts of Contrition and Acts of Insurrection storyline but using elements of both.
Chapter 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7
The sheets are warm as he pulls them aside, sliding into bed alongside the other man. He stares up at the ceiling, listening to Yunho's quiet breathing. Right beside him and still the man feels a hundred miles away. Biting his lip intently, he shifts to his side, resting a hand on the other man's back. Hating how tentative it is.
Like it's the first time all over again. Like it's the last.
Fingers barely skim the smoothness of a bony hip before drawing back as Yunho turns to him. On him. Dark eyes dance with unfamiliar shapes in the strange, alien lighting. They settle on him coldly, a strange counterpoint to the hands that cup his cheeks, to the lips that press against his harshly. There's gentleness there that's got no place between them and he finds himself tugging down, desperate to recover some of what they were, some of what they used to be before this strange place.
He wraps his fingers around the nape of Yunho's neck, almost desperately, legs hooking around the slimness of the other man's waist, already filling out from three square meals and rest.
He doesn't say please, won't say it, but he begs him just the same, with fingertips and tongue and teeth.
The other man is unhurried in his movements and strangely reverent, sliding down his body and taking the sheet with him. Yoochun has visions of a time not so long ago when his lover knelt on the floor of their broken-down craft and under the warmth of the thermo-blanket, working his passion to a pitch with his mouth and swallowing his release like he knows he'll do now, if he lets him. Not that the two are comparable. Not that it was ever like this, between them.
Yunho hides his face in the hollow of his hip, lips pressed into a fine dusting of dark curls. Yoochun bites his lip and wills himself to relax enough, to give his chance a body to respond to the familiar touch. This is probably the last time, anyway.
The last time, and Yunho knows it.
He's saying goodbye.
A sudden, flare of anger lights up in Yoochun's chest, teeth clenching together until his jaw aches. "Stop," he hisses suddenly, eyes stinging. "Stop, get off me."
If they don't say goodbye...then maybe...
It bothers him like it never did before that the other man is so fucking selfless. He's off him in an instant, perched over his side and laying a comforting hand over his chest as if it's meant to show affection, as if it's supposed to make him remember.
There's nothing to remember. What they had for two short months is gone. It can't be recovered. It's over.
"What's wrong?" Yunho frowns, uncomprehending. Misunderstanding.
As much as it disgusts him, he can't bring himself to push the other man's hand away. Still craves his touch. It does nothing to calm him. Instead, he lets his words do it for him.
"What are you doing?" he hisses, features set in anger. "What's the point? You can't wait a few hours to pick up some whore back on Attica? A girlfriend. Wife, even?"
Yunho recoils as if stung but his hand stays in place, fingers digging into the flesh in punishment. "I thought you wanted it. Me." He shrugs but offers no rebuff. It only angers Yoochun even more. That's not how it is between them. They don't just take what the other gives.
"Goodbye fucks are a mite depressing."
Yunho simply stares at him, features impassive, and god, Yoochun hates him, hates him so much.
"Is that what this is?"
Yoochun sneers at him. "It's all it ever was. Don't fucking kid yourself. You aren't stuck with me anymore." It's not just the two of them stuck on a fucking rock, out of the way of civilization like in some romantic novel. They're back in the world now, they're people, if not soldiers. And even if he doesn't have anything to go back to, he's sure Yunho does; a place in society, at the very least.
After all, the damn Guard hasn't been disbanded. The Empress caved in, the Admiral agreed to let her bear his children and they haven't done anything to change the world Yoochun still hates so much. He was willing to die for that dream and take Yunho with him.
"It's all a fucking waste," he snaps, shoving Yunho's shoulder and sitting up, his knees drawn up to his chest.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" The other man bites out, jaw tight and eyes dark and hard as obsidian. "Why are you acting like a fucking child?"
His head snaps up, fury etched on his features before he scrambles from the bed, moving to dress. He doesn't have to take the other man's bullshit anymore. He doesn't have to take him. "Fuck you," he mutters, finding Yunho's clothes wherever he reaches for his own.
A hand on his shoulder jerks him back, Yunho's lips in a thin line. "Get over yourself. We're not dead. Fuck the goddamn war!" He thrusts a knife into his fist, the same one he's had strapped to his thigh since they crashed here. "You want to go back to trying to kill each other?"
His fingers clench around the knife, biting into his lip.
"You don't understand," he hisses. "You never did and you never will. The war is over and everything with it because She gave up! I gave her my life and She fucking gave up!" He's choking on the words, on his fury and loss and confusion. "You're leaving and you know what? Fine. Go. Go back to your fucking life. Where the hell could I possibly belong in it?"
"As if I could ever belong in your life!" Yunho shouts, mirroring his stance. He pins his palms flat against the wall, bowing his head forward. Deep breaths slide over Yoochun's shoulder, but they do nothing to calm the other man. "I do understand..." He looks up and Yoochun turns the knife until the sharp edge is pressed into his palm. "She saved you. I do understand that."
He clenches his jaw, face hot, the knife digging into his skin, not quite enough to draw blood.
"Stop..." he breathes, shaking his head. "You can't just...You don't know. I want revenge. I want people to pay and they won't. There's no fucking justice for them, for my family, for Jaejoong. For me. There's nothing but a one way ticket back to it all."
Alone, all over again.
The other man offers no comforting, empty words and at least for that, he's thankful. Less so when Yunho presses his lips into the side of his neck, mouthing something that could just as well be his name and just as well be an apology.
"I thought you hated this planet," Yunho whispers, tracing his jawline with his lips.
His breath shudders, a hand coming up clutch at the other man's bicep. "When we were there..." He closes his eyes tightly, trying to hold the words back. They won't make a difference anyway.
He fails. "You promised not to leave me."
Yunho draws back, looking straight into his eyes, his expression unreadable. "You don't want me to leave?" He sounds almost surprised, even if he barely lets on.
"No." He grits his teeth. "No, you moron." Yoochun looks away, eyes wet and damn the fact that he still cries so easily, even after all this time. "Do you...you want to leave?"
A hand grasps his chin, turning his features back to meet Yunho's. "And you say I'm the moron, you dumb fuck."
Chapped lips meet his insistently, leaving no room to refuse.
His back crashes into the wall, startling a mirror out of its frame and to the floor. Yunho's hips pin his down insistently, fingers winding around his as he presses his hands above his head.
"Oh no..." Yoochun draws back, licking his lips as a tremor passes through him. "Seven years' bad luck."
Yunho's body relaxes into his own. "I love you," he gasps out, the response as much of a shock to him as it is to Yoochun.
Yoochun loses his breath, head titled back against the wall as he tries to force his heart to beat again. Oh God. "See," he whispers with a breathless laugh. "Bad luck." He kisses Yunho harshly before the other man can reply, pressing his body close. "Now you'll never get rid of me."
"Good."
Teeth bite into his bottom lip, stopping short of pain even as they awaken dormant passion. Dark eyes mirror what he sees. Love. Useless and fucking broken as they are, with no hope, no plans for the future and so many differences to separate them that they might as well belong to different species, Yunho loves him.
He threads his fingers through the other man's hair, clenching perhaps a bit to tight but Yunho offers no complaint.
"I love you, too." He murmurs, putting every ounce of sincerity into the terrifying words that he can.
The other man smiles, too bright for Yoochun's eyes, pushing him back and onto the bed, moving to straddle him.
"Well, yeah. Obviously."
Warm hands slide up along his ribs, a soft, full mouth tracing patterns along his jaw. Yoochun turns to catch the other man's earlobe between his teeth, fingernails digging into his shoulder. "Luckily," he murmurs, drawing back to bring their mouths together firmly.
Yunho grins into the kiss, trailing his hands from his shoulders to his arms and pinning his hands above his head. "Look who's coy now," he chuckles, pressing his lips to Yoochun's pulse point and sucking lightly. Life. They've survived.
Yoochun takes a shuddering breath, writhing a little under Yunho, shifting his hips upward. "Shut up. You know it turns you on." He grins wickedly, even if Yunho can't see it.
The other man groans, sitting back on his haunches and dragging Yoochun's hands into his lap. They haven't been together like this since leaving their sunken crafts, but where soft sheets and pre-processed air is new, the softness of Yunho's skin is the same, his warmth, the hollows of his hips unchanged. He slides against him, the roughness of cloth a strange counterpoint.
Yoochun looks up at him with lips parted, wrapping a hand around the other's length. Pushing himself up onto one elbow, he presses his mouth over his heart, darting the tip of his tongue out to taste.
"You want to fuck me?"
He receives a sharp bite to his neck for the question, Yunho's arms slipping under his and trailing over his back. In the modified cockpit, under the small thermo-blanket, they barely had room to hold each other properly. Here, Yunho pushes him back down and lies over him, spread eagled and hard, grinning like an idiot.
Yoochun tugs at his hair. "Do you?" It's pointless to ask, but he wants to hear it, wants to cling to the words because they're all he has.
"Yes."
The affirmation brings his own too-wide smile to his lips, thrusting upwards once again until their erections brush, gasping. "Then what the hell are you waiting for?"
"Shut your face," Yunho shoots back, leaning down to kiss him instead, the edge in his words completely erased by the gentle press of lips to his own. It belies the torturous way he lingers above him, propped on strong arms like a tiger. He draws back on his knees, working his pants off and over the side of the bed. "Waiting for this."
Yoochun's reply is lost in a startled cry. One of these days, he's going to ask Yunho about his oral fixation. One of these days, maybe. Right now, all he can think is 'more'. Damn the soldier for always knowing how to shut him up quickly and efficiently. It's a cheap trick.
He lets out harsh, stilted breaths, running his fingers rhythmically through dark hair. "Gods...Yunho, that's...gods..."
Quickly and efficiently, but not completely.
"You taste good," he hears whispered against his thigh, the other man knowing what to do only too well. It's why he looks up when he feels him pull back, already trying to gather his wits to roll over onto his front.
Yunho smirks, one hand between his legs and stroking lightly. "You like it too much."
Yoochun gives him a lazy grin, trailing a hand along his stomach and letting his eyes fall closed. "Damn right. I'd like it even more if you fucked me already." Despite the urgency in his words, he can't quite deny that he likes the unhurried pace of their lovemaking. Yoochun's face heats at the sound of the word echoing in his thoughts. Lovemaking, he thinks again, licking his lips. It fits.
"You're blushing," Yunho grins even wider, knees parted around Yoochun's body and hands drawing up his own legs until the feet rest on cooling sheets. Plucking the same vial of liquid that they used for soothing aches and pains and the remnants of wounds that barely had time to heal, he presses a kiss to a bruise on Yoochun's thigh, one he can't remember where he got or how.
He dimly thinks he should tell him to shut up but his breath is strangely absent, a low groan being the only thing to pass his lips. Twisting his fingers in the sheet, he inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Please," he chokes.
"No begging," the other man whispers, slicking his fingers. "Open your eyes."
As always, as he's used to, by now, Yoochun obeys, trying to glare but finding he can't, not when Yunho is looking up at him like he's holy. He doesn't know what to do or say under that gaze and he his only recourse is a plaintive moan, hips shivering under a cool, controlled touch. He watches him through half-lidded eyes, teeth digging into his lip.
A slick touch brushes over his entrance, a touch he hasn't felt in what seems like forever and never like this, not with his heart hammering in his chest and small noises catching in his throat.
"Don't tease me," he manages, head tilting back against the pillow.
Yunho doesn't answer but he takes the message. Fingers slide into him, two in one go and it's too much, he's too tight and it's uncomfortable, unpleasant, at least until Yunho leans down again and moves his mouth to his erection as precisely as he moves his fingers. Distantly, Yoochun figures he's done this before.
"Fuck, you're good," he breathes, shifting on the other man's fingers, wincing through the pleasure. "Don't let it go to your...to your head..."
He feels the vibrations of a soft laugh around his length, startling another moan from his lips even as Yunho finds his prostate. Digging his fists into the sheets, he arches in response, air leaving his lungs in broken cries that may be his lover's name. Pathetically wanton it may be, but he doesn't care. It's Yunho, on his knees, touching him like this. Loving him.
"Stop... gods, stop..."
A hand tightens on his hip. "Yoochun," his name is low on the other man's lips, his motions stilling. "You okay?"
Concern is palpable in a way he can taste on his lips, though dimly, he realizes he's probably punctured a bleeding hole with his teeth. "You're killing me here," he explains, choked and trembling. "I'm sure this is all... part of your evil Guard plan, but can you just..." He heaves a breath, lungs working independently of his mind. "Just hurry up?"
Yunho moves up to place a kiss over Yoochun's heart. The action makes his eyes sting. "I want to take my time with you," the other man murmurs.
A breathless laugh, tinged with fondness. "We have plenty of time, dumbass. Now fuck me before I kick your ass." A slow grin lights up the other man's features, withdrawing his fingers to clutch Yoochun's hips, pulling him into place.
"Put your legs around me, dumbass," Yunho retorts, archly copying his tone and address. He's never looked so relaxed before and Yoochun thinks it's a good look on him. It's the last thought to cross his mind before all is obliterated and all he can taste is the pain of being breached. Taken. Fucked. Everything he's hated and feared and asked for. "I'm sorry," he hears whispered into his skin and feels Yunho tremble.
The ceiling in their room is white and dotted with lightbulbs. Yoochun imagines the sky instead, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders. "You're inside me..."
The other man is still, rubbing lightly at the sharp jut of his hip. "Yeah," he breathes, and the words are ragged. "I am." Fingertips brush the corner of Yoochun's mouth. "I love you."
He catches his hand, tugging him down because he's too far, too serious, and smiles.
They've got no work, no friends, no home. They're drifters in a world that's changed irrevocably. Yunho's family will never accept him and his own entourage--whatever's left of it after the war--would never allow one of their own to be in love with the enemy. They're royally screwed and yet he's never been happier. Hands cup his cheeks like they belong there. And when he's finally spread on the sheets, oil slick and panting, looking up into Yunho's eyes as he moves above and inside him, his body taunt with tension, he knows that somehow, they will survive this.