(no subject)
Title: Acts of Insurrection (13/20)
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OT5
Warning(s): violence, graphic sex, language
Summary: It's been six months since Changmin crashed on the remote planet known as Elysia. Five months since Yunho and Junsu found him. Four months since Jaejoong was shot by a man he and Yoochun both trusted. Now training as the Empress' men, former soldiers and former rebels have shed past allegiances in service of a common goal. But the tide is turning--and not in their favor.
Banner credit: luvmeanddespair
A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the first part. We hope you enjoy this one!
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
They seat him in a chair and handcuff his hands to the back. He's more docile with them than he was with the bounty hunter, and not just because he knows he has no chance of escaping here. These people were his friends once and he remembers how it felt to laugh with them, to train with them. He also remembers how it felt to punch and be punched in friendly combat. They'd called it letting off steam.
They call it interrogation now.
A blow across the face leaves him spitting up blood onto metal already darkened by blood and vomit from other prisoners, other traitors before him. He doesn't fight it. It's supposed to hurt and make him feel like trash. All it does is make him feel sad.
The hand that twists into his hair, dragging his head back, makes him grit his teeth but he doesn't fight it. "Is this the best you've got?" he grimaces.
Cold eyes run over his face before throwing a sharp glare to the soldiers stationed by the door. "Don't worry, Kim. We're just getting started."
***
Each spatter of blood hits the concrete with an audible smack, dull and yet impossibly sharp, spreading like a crawling thing to cover the cold floor. It’s interminable, aching in his jaw, itching under his skin. Enough to make him want to claw his eyes out, the walls, the pool of crimson lapping at the soles of his feet, leaving scarlet imprints in his wake.
There’s ragged breathing now, sounding like a caged beast, the sweating bull as it reels from rage and gaping wounds, pawing at the floor though it knows there’s no escape. He stumbles, searching, tracing his fingers along frictionless walls, trying to find the break and the noise is louder now, ever louder and--
--there are familiar fingertips under his, the whorls and ridges as achingly memorable as honey sweet laughter and the constellation of freckles on a pale shoulder. He presses them to his tongue, tries to taste a heartbeat, but there is nothing, nothing but still, still death and flayed skin and he can smell his own bile, throat raw from screaming-
One word. One word one name one thought-
“Junsu!” he shrieks, eyes wide and staring at nothing, heart hammering in his chest. Hands scrabble at him, a meaningless voice calling his name but he hears nothing, still screaming, the word like ash in his mouth.
“Junsu! Jun-“ A hand claps over his mouth, hands pinning him to the bed even as he fights and he’s sobbing hard enough to asphyxiate himself.
“Changmin,” he hears, his name desperate in the other man’s voice, Yunho’s steady tones cracked and fearful.
“He’s dead,” Changmin gulps through lungfulls of air, muffled, the nightmare still clutching at him. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…”
Arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pressing him down into the bed. "You were dreaming, that's all." Even as he says it, he hears Yunho's voice shake, anxiety and pain and fatigue taking its toll on the older man. "That's all."
He pushes back, legs kicking out under the sheets, trying to free himself. "No, no, not a dream, we have to find them, Yunho, we have to--" He inhales raggedly, trying to find the man's eyes in the dark, his own wild and fearful.
"Shh," Yunho's voice wraps around him like velvet, hands pushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes. "We will. I promise you we will." He's in no place to be making any promises and Changmin knows it, doubt tightening its grasp on his neck, choking the life out of him.
"Now, Yunho--now!" It's insistent and ragged, just like his breaths, but the sense of urgency pulses out of his nightmare and into the waking world. "He's in pain, he's in so much pain. He's going to die there and we can't--can't do anything about it..."
Yunho holds him tightly, trying to calm him, even as he can see the other man's eyes shining in the pale light. "Changmin, please, it was just a dream. We'll find him, both of them, god, I swear we will."
He shakes his head, sobbing into Yunho's shoulder because he's felt his before and he knows it isn't a dream, isn't his imagination. Knows they won't be quick enough to save them.
***
His cockpit too small, too tightly shut around him--and thank the Gods for that--Yunho heads a pack of hungry wolves. It's the closest analogy to the truth and it belies the impossible odds.
"Is there any way we can board them?" It's the first thing to come from Jaejoong's mouth since calling him a traitor and Yunho considers asking him to repeat it.
"You want to board them?" Changmin answers for him, clogging up the frequency when he should know to keep it clear. It's forgiven, in circumstances like these.
Jaejoong ignores him, obviously desperate for blood. "Your Highness... Orders, please. What should I do?"
Jiexi slithers onto the frequency like a snake, her voice smooth and intimate, as if she's a lover and not a leader. Yunho doesn't understand the charade until her words wash over him: "You've done good, Jae. You've done so good so far. Hang in there."
Empty words, false reassurance. He understands it too well.
A moment later, a private wave is sent his way. It's the Empress. "We've got forty-seven ships," she tells him. "Will that be enough?"
Yunho glares straight ahead, straight at the emptiness of the big black. "It will have to be, won't it?" One way or another, it's going to be a bloodbath.
He tunes out the rallying call she gives to her troops, focusing on the practicalities. "Get the fastest ten loaded with all we've got," he instructs on the same private frequency she used--it's not just a matter of courtesy, but of strategy. This has to be her plan. Her war. "We hit the engines first," he relays to their meager troops. "Hopefully, they'll send the bulk of their fighters after us and give you a clear shot. But they're not idiots. They'll use their cannons as soon as you're in range. Good luck."
Changmin breaks formation to advance at his side. Thick glass and the nothingness of space separates them but still he mouths: "I love you." He's gone before Yunho can reply, sliding back to his usual position on the chart.
"Let's get back what's ours," Jiexi cries over the comsys.
Let's get our boys back, Yunho thinks grimly, clutching the controls in a tight fist.
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OT5
Warning(s): violence, graphic sex, language
Summary: It's been six months since Changmin crashed on the remote planet known as Elysia. Five months since Yunho and Junsu found him. Four months since Jaejoong was shot by a man he and Yoochun both trusted. Now training as the Empress' men, former soldiers and former rebels have shed past allegiances in service of a common goal. But the tide is turning--and not in their favor.
Banner credit: luvmeanddespair
A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the first part. We hope you enjoy this one!
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
They seat him in a chair and handcuff his hands to the back. He's more docile with them than he was with the bounty hunter, and not just because he knows he has no chance of escaping here. These people were his friends once and he remembers how it felt to laugh with them, to train with them. He also remembers how it felt to punch and be punched in friendly combat. They'd called it letting off steam.
They call it interrogation now.
A blow across the face leaves him spitting up blood onto metal already darkened by blood and vomit from other prisoners, other traitors before him. He doesn't fight it. It's supposed to hurt and make him feel like trash. All it does is make him feel sad.
The hand that twists into his hair, dragging his head back, makes him grit his teeth but he doesn't fight it. "Is this the best you've got?" he grimaces.
Cold eyes run over his face before throwing a sharp glare to the soldiers stationed by the door. "Don't worry, Kim. We're just getting started."
***
Each spatter of blood hits the concrete with an audible smack, dull and yet impossibly sharp, spreading like a crawling thing to cover the cold floor. It’s interminable, aching in his jaw, itching under his skin. Enough to make him want to claw his eyes out, the walls, the pool of crimson lapping at the soles of his feet, leaving scarlet imprints in his wake.
There’s ragged breathing now, sounding like a caged beast, the sweating bull as it reels from rage and gaping wounds, pawing at the floor though it knows there’s no escape. He stumbles, searching, tracing his fingers along frictionless walls, trying to find the break and the noise is louder now, ever louder and--
--there are familiar fingertips under his, the whorls and ridges as achingly memorable as honey sweet laughter and the constellation of freckles on a pale shoulder. He presses them to his tongue, tries to taste a heartbeat, but there is nothing, nothing but still, still death and flayed skin and he can smell his own bile, throat raw from screaming-
One word. One word one name one thought-
“Junsu!” he shrieks, eyes wide and staring at nothing, heart hammering in his chest. Hands scrabble at him, a meaningless voice calling his name but he hears nothing, still screaming, the word like ash in his mouth.
“Junsu! Jun-“ A hand claps over his mouth, hands pinning him to the bed even as he fights and he’s sobbing hard enough to asphyxiate himself.
“Changmin,” he hears, his name desperate in the other man’s voice, Yunho’s steady tones cracked and fearful.
“He’s dead,” Changmin gulps through lungfulls of air, muffled, the nightmare still clutching at him. “He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead…”
Arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pressing him down into the bed. "You were dreaming, that's all." Even as he says it, he hears Yunho's voice shake, anxiety and pain and fatigue taking its toll on the older man. "That's all."
He pushes back, legs kicking out under the sheets, trying to free himself. "No, no, not a dream, we have to find them, Yunho, we have to--" He inhales raggedly, trying to find the man's eyes in the dark, his own wild and fearful.
"Shh," Yunho's voice wraps around him like velvet, hands pushing sweaty bangs out of his eyes. "We will. I promise you we will." He's in no place to be making any promises and Changmin knows it, doubt tightening its grasp on his neck, choking the life out of him.
"Now, Yunho--now!" It's insistent and ragged, just like his breaths, but the sense of urgency pulses out of his nightmare and into the waking world. "He's in pain, he's in so much pain. He's going to die there and we can't--can't do anything about it..."
Yunho holds him tightly, trying to calm him, even as he can see the other man's eyes shining in the pale light. "Changmin, please, it was just a dream. We'll find him, both of them, god, I swear we will."
He shakes his head, sobbing into Yunho's shoulder because he's felt his before and he knows it isn't a dream, isn't his imagination. Knows they won't be quick enough to save them.
***
His cockpit too small, too tightly shut around him--and thank the Gods for that--Yunho heads a pack of hungry wolves. It's the closest analogy to the truth and it belies the impossible odds.
"Is there any way we can board them?" It's the first thing to come from Jaejoong's mouth since calling him a traitor and Yunho considers asking him to repeat it.
"You want to board them?" Changmin answers for him, clogging up the frequency when he should know to keep it clear. It's forgiven, in circumstances like these.
Jaejoong ignores him, obviously desperate for blood. "Your Highness... Orders, please. What should I do?"
Jiexi slithers onto the frequency like a snake, her voice smooth and intimate, as if she's a lover and not a leader. Yunho doesn't understand the charade until her words wash over him: "You've done good, Jae. You've done so good so far. Hang in there."
Empty words, false reassurance. He understands it too well.
A moment later, a private wave is sent his way. It's the Empress. "We've got forty-seven ships," she tells him. "Will that be enough?"
Yunho glares straight ahead, straight at the emptiness of the big black. "It will have to be, won't it?" One way or another, it's going to be a bloodbath.
He tunes out the rallying call she gives to her troops, focusing on the practicalities. "Get the fastest ten loaded with all we've got," he instructs on the same private frequency she used--it's not just a matter of courtesy, but of strategy. This has to be her plan. Her war. "We hit the engines first," he relays to their meager troops. "Hopefully, they'll send the bulk of their fighters after us and give you a clear shot. But they're not idiots. They'll use their cannons as soon as you're in range. Good luck."
Changmin breaks formation to advance at his side. Thick glass and the nothingness of space separates them but still he mouths: "I love you." He's gone before Yunho can reply, sliding back to his usual position on the chart.
"Let's get back what's ours," Jiexi cries over the comsys.
Let's get our boys back, Yunho thinks grimly, clutching the controls in a tight fist.