(no subject)
Title: Acts of Insurrection (Epilogue)
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 and thank you for reading. It's been a long ride, but here it is: the epilogue. The end.
A/N2: Also, for those interested in Super Junior and our famous, redhead kidnapper, here's a one shot that may answer some questions.
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen; Seventeen; Eighteen; Nineteen; Twenty
Epilogue
The night air is cold against his skin, sliding along his bare chest in a mocking caress, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and sending curled smoke high into the sky. Yoochun flicks the ashes over the balcony rail, piercing eyes taking in the barren landscape. So different from Elysia. Just like everything else.
He can hear the sounds in the room he left, part of him wanting to return, to slide back under warm sheets and against soft, familiar skin. The rest of him--his mind is too far gone to stay. Sighing, Yoochun closes his eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on the rail, shoulders tight with tension and insomnia.
Something in Yunho's chest tightens painfully as he makes his way outside into the dark. Bare-chested, he shivers shamelessly but doesn't close the glass door behind him. The others need the fresh air and he's enjoying their barely muffled cries even from afar, his eyes trained on the missing link in their chain.
"Yoochun," he breathes, voice soft as he covers the distance between them in two long strides. "You okay?"
No, not even close, Yoochun wants to say, but can't, can't admit it even to himself.
Instead he shakes his head, the soft sounds of pleasure from the other room at once drawing him in and pushing him away. He takes another steady drag, feeling colder than before and shakes his head.
"You should go back inside."
Yunho frowns, advancing slowly on the other man. It's taken them too long to get to where they are today and it's unlike Yoochun to shy away from the rare moments when they are all together.
"Do you have another smoke?" he breathes, stopping behind the younger man and laying a warm palm over chilled skin. Something's amiss, no question about it, but it's Yoochun's right to have his secrets. After everything that has happened, he's earned at least that much.
Yoochun unconsciously leans into the touch, skin responding to the feel of the other man's, curling into his warmth. Holding up the cigarette between two fingers, he offers it to Yunho.
"Last one," he murmurs, thinking it poignant and wondering when he ever got so morbid.
"It'll do." Yunho plucks the rolled up tobacco carefully, brushing the other man's knuckles to shake off some of the ash. His other hand draws circles over Yoochun's spine, slowly, carefully mapping burns and bruises he never should have had to take. This quest to restore the Empire is taking more than its due toll on them. He regrets it.
Taking a long slow drag out of the cigarette, he lets the smoke color his vision for a moment before it dissipates and he can lean forward and press his lips to Yoochun's shoulder. "What are you thinking?"
Yoochun almost smiles at the question. For years, he's taken for granted that the man he was with never had to ask, knew the thought before it was even completed. The connection he has with Jae is unspoken, deep as a chasm and just as endless. But there is something to be said for the comfort of the inquiry, uncommon for a man like Yunho.
He leans back into a solid chest, allowing himself the other's brand of strength and tugging Yunho's wrist until he can take another pull from the cigarette.
"It's worth it, right?"
Yunho relinquishes the cigarette but not his hold on the other man's back. Counting vertebrae, he sighs, smoke slipping from between his lips. It's a question he doesn't know how to answer. No abstract goal is worth the pain they've suffered, in his mind. But he knows it isn't what Yoochun is asking for, not what he wants to hear.
"Has to be," he sighs, fingers slipping over the blur of singed skin on his back. How the other man survived it, he doesn't know, doesn't want to think about the monstrosity of what was done to him. Every bruise, every cut teaches a lesson. Even if that lesson is revenge.
Piraeus extends at their feet. Sunlight and freedom and Jiexi's crest on the top of the tallest buildings.
Junsu's homeworld. It's worth it.
Sliding his fingers through Yunho's, Yoochun rests their laced hands on his stomach, smoke stinging his eyes even as it soothes his throat. Jaejoong's breathless sigh reaches his ears, Changmin's pleasured groan, and he can see them, heads tipped back and lips parted, Junsu's skilled mouth at work along porcelain skin.
"I was ashamed," he admits quietly, words he shouldn't be unfamiliar with, though never spoken but for this.
Yunho shakes his head, lips brushing the other man's neck in silent denial, though he knows no amount of protest will make the feeling disappear entirely. It doesn't mean he'll stop making them.
"Don't be a fool," he states evenly, thumb stroking the line of muscle stretching above Yoochun's navel. His tone is firm, though gentleness runs undercurrent. "It changes nothing, Yoochun."
The protest dies in Yoochun’s throat at the soft touch, chest tightening with emotion. He can't explain it, not really. Jaejoong has always had the way with words, not him.
"It changes me, doesn't it?" he asks, resting his head against the taller man's shoulder, turning to speaking the words against a smooth jaw. "It has to." It has to have meant something, otherwise how could he have looked a man in the eye and shot him? How could he have killed so many people for something that only matters to him?
Yunho swallows in a dry throat. "You're strong," he whispers, voicing his thoughts rather than answering the question. "And you're beautiful."
Yoochun bites at his lips, the words still foreign coming from Yunho and he's temped to pull away, but the older man holds him firmly in place, speaking against his ear. "You're a stubborn, proud son of a bitch and I love you for it. For all of it. None of that changes."
He tightens his grasp on the other's hand, raising it until he can press a kiss to his palm. A part of him clings to the words, drawing Yunho's resolve into himself through the press of their bodies, their shared breath. The rest of him can only remember how he was before, how things were. How he fears they won't be, can't be again. Yoochun swallows hard, eyes picking out the stars, tracing unfamiliar constellations.
"Yoochun," Yunho sighs, tightening his hold around the younger man, as if it alone might reassure him. It's hard to believe it can, in times like these.
Behind them, a soft murmur of voices and then Changmin cries out, the sound joyous and uninhibited.
Yoochun’s breath catches with the sound, letting it fill him, picturing the boy in his mind, the soft touch of skin and lips and hands. The distance is self-imposed, he knows. Were he to go inside, he'd be drawn back into their cocoon without a thought.
He stays, hand coming up to grasp Yunho's arm, letting the cigarette burn between his fingers.
"Stay." Here. With us. With me. Forever. Stay.
"Always," Yunho promises, voice shaking slightly with pent-up emotion. "Always," he repeats, gazing into Yoochun's eyes. There's nothing else for him but this life; he wouldn't want anything else. Gently, cautiously, his hand breaks free of Yoochun's hold to cup his jaw, tracing it with a sigh. "As long as you want me," he amends, meaning yes, Yochun, but the others as well. They're his reason.
Yoochun shifts in his arms, meeting dark eyes with his own, letting the other man see. His fear, his doubt. His love and his utter faith. Leaning up, he presses their mouths together, pouring need and desperation into the act, fingers skimming the line of his jaw.
They break apart for air almost unwillingly.
"It will get easier," Yunho promises, wills the words to become truth.
And God, there is doubt and it stings like a razor cut, threatening to swallow Yoochun whole, but he believes Yunho. Believes in him, so strongly, and that's what he does, isn't it? He believes until it consumes him. Until Jiexi's fight and Jiexi's war and the damn sick, raging flames of her insurrection burn him forever.
A thousand years ago, this man was his enemy. A thousand years ago, he led Changmin to intended execution, fired on Junsu, thought them soulless. Until he knew the planes of his stomach, the brush of his lips...
I'm so lost, he wants to say. Please.
Their second kiss is a measure of comfort. In it, Yunho pours his own fears, the ones he'll never admit to. He's a soldier at heart and comfort is alien to him, but for Yoochun, for these men, he'll never stop trying. Trailing his fingertips over the other man's arms as if to warm him, he brings their bodies closer.
Don't think. Just feel.
Yoochun submits under the other's touch, folds himself against a broad chest, his own frame too slight, too narrow against Yunho's. Catching his hand, he lets their kiss linger, slow and languid, a counterpoint to the breathless cries that echo from the walls.
For all the days he may have left, many or few, Yunho can't imagine he'll ever get used to the generosity of those around him. Yoochun's kiss undoes him, breaking him open until he's bare before the other man's eyes, figuratively if not literally just yet. Trust anchors him in the present and he exhales slowly, relaxing even as he feels himself harden slightly in response to Yoochun's touch, to the others' passionate moans.
"Yunho," the younger man murmurs when they pull apart, lips brushing still as he speaks. A soft smile, mimicking Changmin's word for the older man. "Hyung."
Drawing back ever so slightly, Yoochun traces the lines of the man's face, thumb brushing over high cheekbones, fingertips skimming the dark smudges of eyebrows the soft fullness of a kiss-swollen mouth. He feels the hardness pressing at his hip, eyelashes falling to half mast. This is how it should be. Lovers, not enemies. Not what was done to him...
Unspoken words of love hang on Yunho's tongue and he chokes slightly at the fear that blossoms in goosebumps over tanned skin, stealing another gentle kiss as Changmin's endearment on Yoochun's lips coincides with a breathless cry echoing behind them. He smirks as fantasy grounded in experience drives him to imagine what their friends are up to.
The same thought seems mirrored in Yoochun's eyes, despite the sorrow he sees lingering there and Yunho can't help himself. Doesn't want to try. Tilting the other man's head lightly to the side, he mouths the soft skin of his neck, asking without words.
Yoochun makes a soft noise of pleasure in the back of his throat, Yunho's mouth hot and insistent against his skin. Shifting until they’re standing as before, he hesitates before bringing Yunho's hand to rest between his legs, pressing back against the man. A silent answer and unspoken permission.
A plea.
Make me remember how this feels.
Yunho's resistance is minimal and it breaks down completely as he finds the evidence of Yoochun's arousal, skilled hands hurrying to reach for it beneath rough layers. It's as easy as ever to undress his lover, but he's determined not to allow darkness to shadow this. Yet he can't help but groan as he tightens his grasp around warm flesh, the tightness of his own clothes uncomfortable.
A small noise in the back of Yoochun's throat, his fingers tightening around the rail, white-knuckled, and Yunho slows his motion, covers the hand with his own. "Guide me," he whispers, gently mouthing the other man's skin. "Tell me." What you want, what you need. How you want me.
Yoochun takes in a shaking breath, head falling back to rest against Yunho's shoulder, eyes slipping closed.
"Yunho..." he breathes, shifting his hips forward, into his touch. "I...just please, be...be in me..."
Love me. Love me, love me.
The request fills Yunho's chest with tightness, robbing the air from his lungs because this isn't right. He isn't the one who Yoochun should be trusting to do this. Jaejoong, Junsu, but not him. He inhales, each breath heavier than the previous. But even as he lowers their trousers around their hips - first Yoochun's, then his own - he's kissing the other man's shoulder blade, the gesture a promise, a declaration in itself.
Won't hurt you. Ever.
He knows how Yoocun likes to be touched and he provides without needing to be told, watching, feeling for the smallest sigh of pain or displeasure. His strokes are rough but slow, a dangerous rhythm that usually drives Yoochun over the edge before any of the others can follow. He's always the one to catch them.
Yoochun reaches behind him to tangle his fingers in thick, soft hair, tugging slightly as Yunho's hand slides along his length. A gasp, mirrored by the man behind him, by the men in the room. Still connected, still... Jae breathes a sigh and Yoochun feels it slide along his skin, even as Yunho's length presses against him.
And this is beautiful and intoxicating and driving him far too close, but still he tenses involuntarily, the memory of pain too close to be forgotten. He doesn't want this to end, not yet--not ever, if he could help it, but it will. The thought chills him and he clutches the rail, pushing it back, trying to remember how Yunho feels inside him instead of the end of a cold, rough club....
"Please..." Make me forget. "I can't..."
"Shh," the older man soothes, his voice infinitely calmer as his treacherous body responds to the press of hips against his own. "I'm here. I'll do whatever you want me to do."
Fingers trace Yoochun's opening, the ring of muscle healed but far from yielding. He saw the others prepare each other earlier, oiled hands sliding between smooth thighs, lips and teeth biting playfully. He'd walked out before they began and he doesn't know why.
Yunho's touch is gentle, ever mindful of hurting his lovers; of hurting him. Stilling his hand, he presses the tip of his index within and hears Yoochun gasp.
"Okay?" he asks, breathlessly. "Want me to stop?"
There's a heavy silence, Yoochun's breaths stilted and shallow and he starts to withdraw, fearing he's gone too far when Yoochun grabs his wrist. "Don't stop," he gets out, fingernails digging into the skin. Yunho breathes a quiet 'alright', pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, waiting until he relaxes around the small intrusion to push deeper, until a single digit is settled inside the younger man.
"Love you so much," he murmurs, his voice catching. He's still not used to being so soft, but he won't dare be anything but. Won't dare fuck this up. Listening carefully for any sound of fear or protest, he works the digit in and out of the other man, pressing until he can find the source of pleasure inside him.
Yoochun gasps, quieter than he used to be, before, but less guarded than he was in the immediate aftermath.
"Go on," he murmurs, eyes closed and brows knit together in concentration. Yunho soothes him with lips and hands, but it's not enough. It won't be, for a while.
There's lube in his clothes, a small tube he took after the others were finished with it and he retrieves it without thought. He didn't come out here for this, but he won't deny Yoochun. He can't deny his lovers, not when life seems so determined to separate them at every turn.
He slicks himself slowly, Yoochun's body sagging forward. "You can take me, if it's easier..." He knows it's the wrong thing to say the moment cold, dark eyes flash to focus on him, Yoochun glaring over his shoulder.
"You said you'd do whatever I wanted you to do," he reminds him sharply. At least in that, he hasn't changed since their first time together on Elysia. Everything else is a matter of perception.
He can't help but smile at that, despite everything, stroking a hand over Yoochun's stomach in silent apology. A stubborn, proud son of a bitch, but one who's a part of him as surely as any of the others. He slides three fingers inside the other's body, making sure he's loose as he can be. Yoochun's body accepts them easily and he takes a deep breath, withdrawing and moving to position himself.
He pushes himself in slowly, inch by inch, fingers wrapping around Yoochun's erection, halting every time there's the slightest change in the other man's breathing or stance, until at long last he's settled inside him, holding him close.
Yoochun lets out a shaky breath, eyes staring out ahead of him, unseeing, until he lets them close, relaxes into Yunho's warmth. This is what is should be, this is what he's missed, feared he couldn't have again. He kisses the other man's fingertips even as his breath shakes, begging him to move.
And Yunho does. Slowly withdrawing, he presses back in as their breaths catch - theirs or the others' - as if he can't bear to be apart for longer than a moment. Yoochun's body is familiar, yet still a subject of wonder. He slides back and forth gently, pulling away only to bury himself back deep inside of him, the friction slight but powerful. He feels the tension in the younger man's body, wishes he could ease it somehow but always at a loss, always falling short of offering just what is needed. He tries, but the most he manages is a breathless moan, echoed by Junsu somewhere in the depths of the darkened bedroom.
"Yunho," Yoochun whispers almost reverently, the man's name falling like a prayer from his lips, back arching as he thrusts inside him.
Their movements are slow, bodies rocking together in tandem, breathing as one, skin flushed and heated between them. A soft touch to what should be inked skin leaves him whimpering with pleasure and sensation. Mixed feelings clash and mingle. Mate. Lover. Others too: Whore. Bitch.
"Yoochun," Yunho's voice interrupts his thoughts, hand slipping over his cock. "Stay with me." Yoochun's stomach twists, wishing for Changmin's lips around his length, for Jaejoong's hand to accompany Yunho's. For Junsu's whispered encouragement. Together, they could break the spell that has fallen over him, as if this were a fairytale.
It's not and they're alone out here, connected to the others by a thin thread of desynchronized gasps and cries of pleasure.
Licking his lips, Yoochun nods instead of speaking, seeking to match Yunho's slow thrusts, concentration slipping as he feels a wet finger between his shoulder blades. He moans, collapsing back onto his lover, needing his strength and his warmth to find their rhythm once more. "I...Gods above, I..."
His breath stutters with the slick slide of Yunho's hand over his length, inside his body, driving into him over and over, wringing soft, strangled noises of pleasure from him. He clutches at strong arms, turning his head to kiss Yunho's jaw. Another thrust and steady pull and he's spilling over Yunho's fingers with a low moan, cheeks damp and lithe frame shaking.
Uncharacteristically, Yunho feels his eyes water and thinks it may be the cold air, it may be the pressure in his chest. Anything but the sight of Yoochun, crying in his arms.
Almost unwillingly, he follows in ecstasy, the other man's body tightening agonizingly around him and wringing a harsh cry from his lips. Spent, he falls with one arm on the rail, the other locked around Yoochun's waist, and tries to break with gravity. He fails.
Yoochun lets out a soft grunt of pain as his knees smack the stone, still holding tightly to Yunho, the other man softening inside him, even as he presses back against him. Turning slightly in Yunho's arms, he gives a soft, shaky smile, lacing their fingers together once more and pressing Yunho's hand over his racing heart.
"Always," Yunho repeats, shakily, whole body weak and drained but still trying to shield Yoochun's from some unseen danger. "Always," he repeats, kissing the younger man lightly. He can't manage more because of his own rushing pulse.
He draws out, slick and warm against Yoochun's thigh, but only to adjust his hold. It's as if they need this closeness more than any form of release.
"Alright?" he asks softly, kissing a thin shoulder, needing to check.
Yoochun nods, bringing their mouths together once more. "Yeah. I am."
Yunho tightens his embrace, resting his forehead against a trembling shoulder and trying to calm his racing heart. "Come on, let's go inside."
He helps Yoochun to his feet, their bodies weak with exhaustion, straining his ears to hear the sound of life from behind tall glass doors. Over marbled floors, past thick velvet curtains, following the path laid out by their clothes scattered every which way, their lovers lie entwined on the bed, Junsu encased between strong arms, his mouth occupied by Changmin's as Jaejoong trails slow, sucking kisses down the length of his spine. They sink into the warm, soft mattress beside them, long fingers entwining with Yoochun's, Changmin squeezing lightly even as others tangle in Junsu's hair.
Yunho fits against his back like a missing puzzle piece, hands ghosting over his skin, alighting against his navel. Heavy breath pours in his ear, but there are no hellish memories to destroy this moment. Jaejoong looks up, scratching nails over Junsu's thighs as he pulls him up and Changmin groans, his eyes falling shut at the loss.
Junsu undulates his hips like Jaejoong does sometimes. It's less practiced, less sophisticated, but the half-circle he draws over their bodies when they hold him like this is pure, heated pleasure. He props his hands on Changmin's shoulders and breaks free of Jaejoong's grasp, leading them rather than being led.
Yoochun watches, feels Changmin's fist close around his with every effort to stall his orgasm. There's no need, he wants to say, watching flushed cheeks clench with determination.
"Let go," Yunho murmurs by their side and Changmin's eyes fly open, focusing on him with the faith, the trust of a lover. He curves into Junsu's waiting arms, spilling with a cry they all understand.
It isn't until he clutches helplessly at Junsu's arms and looks like he wants to apologize that the others spring into action. Yoochun's hand flits over his chest and abdomen, feeling the muscles tremble when he wraps warm fingers around his softening cock. Junsu whimpers at the loss of contact even as he takes Changmin's lips. Behind him, Jaejoong smirks and angles his hips.
They take him like that, trapping his body between them and his face in the crook of Changmin's neck. Yoochun smiles with every thrust that sends his lover forward into strong, lanky arms and every kiss Jaejoong lays to his shoulders. It's stilted and far from perfect, but warmth blossoms in his chest at the sight of it and he thinks it's enough to help him forget all else.
He watches them come together and opens his arms when Junsu rolls off of Changmin with a tired sigh. Jaejoong is last to fall, his hands sliding over Junsu's bruises as if to check which were there before and which he left in his clumsiness.
Yunho stills his hand and brings it to his lips as if to say: "We're safe, now. You can rest." And Jaejoong does, wrapping an arm around Changmin's waist and closing his eyes.
The lie is bittersweet but Yoochun doesn't begrudge his lover for it. He knows he'd repeat it gladly if he were sure it could grant them some reprieve from the sound of battle. War is on their doorstep, begging to be taken into account, begging for their intervention. Jiexi won't have it otherwise. Her knife in hand, she'll lead them to victory. She's got to.
Slowly, the moment blurs, fades like a memory. Above them, Yoochun sees angels on the vaulted ceiling, their wings flickering with the light and color of a rising sun.
On the horizon, dawn is breaking.
THE END
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 and thank you for reading. It's been a long ride, but here it is: the epilogue. The end.
A/N2: Also, for those interested in Super Junior and our famous, redhead kidnapper, here's a one shot that may answer some questions.
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen; Seventeen; Eighteen; Nineteen; Twenty
Epilogue
The night air is cold against his skin, sliding along his bare chest in a mocking caress, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and sending curled smoke high into the sky. Yoochun flicks the ashes over the balcony rail, piercing eyes taking in the barren landscape. So different from Elysia. Just like everything else.
He can hear the sounds in the room he left, part of him wanting to return, to slide back under warm sheets and against soft, familiar skin. The rest of him--his mind is too far gone to stay. Sighing, Yoochun closes his eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on the rail, shoulders tight with tension and insomnia.
Something in Yunho's chest tightens painfully as he makes his way outside into the dark. Bare-chested, he shivers shamelessly but doesn't close the glass door behind him. The others need the fresh air and he's enjoying their barely muffled cries even from afar, his eyes trained on the missing link in their chain.
"Yoochun," he breathes, voice soft as he covers the distance between them in two long strides. "You okay?"
No, not even close, Yoochun wants to say, but can't, can't admit it even to himself.
Instead he shakes his head, the soft sounds of pleasure from the other room at once drawing him in and pushing him away. He takes another steady drag, feeling colder than before and shakes his head.
"You should go back inside."
Yunho frowns, advancing slowly on the other man. It's taken them too long to get to where they are today and it's unlike Yoochun to shy away from the rare moments when they are all together.
"Do you have another smoke?" he breathes, stopping behind the younger man and laying a warm palm over chilled skin. Something's amiss, no question about it, but it's Yoochun's right to have his secrets. After everything that has happened, he's earned at least that much.
Yoochun unconsciously leans into the touch, skin responding to the feel of the other man's, curling into his warmth. Holding up the cigarette between two fingers, he offers it to Yunho.
"Last one," he murmurs, thinking it poignant and wondering when he ever got so morbid.
"It'll do." Yunho plucks the rolled up tobacco carefully, brushing the other man's knuckles to shake off some of the ash. His other hand draws circles over Yoochun's spine, slowly, carefully mapping burns and bruises he never should have had to take. This quest to restore the Empire is taking more than its due toll on them. He regrets it.
Taking a long slow drag out of the cigarette, he lets the smoke color his vision for a moment before it dissipates and he can lean forward and press his lips to Yoochun's shoulder. "What are you thinking?"
Yoochun almost smiles at the question. For years, he's taken for granted that the man he was with never had to ask, knew the thought before it was even completed. The connection he has with Jae is unspoken, deep as a chasm and just as endless. But there is something to be said for the comfort of the inquiry, uncommon for a man like Yunho.
He leans back into a solid chest, allowing himself the other's brand of strength and tugging Yunho's wrist until he can take another pull from the cigarette.
"It's worth it, right?"
Yunho relinquishes the cigarette but not his hold on the other man's back. Counting vertebrae, he sighs, smoke slipping from between his lips. It's a question he doesn't know how to answer. No abstract goal is worth the pain they've suffered, in his mind. But he knows it isn't what Yoochun is asking for, not what he wants to hear.
"Has to be," he sighs, fingers slipping over the blur of singed skin on his back. How the other man survived it, he doesn't know, doesn't want to think about the monstrosity of what was done to him. Every bruise, every cut teaches a lesson. Even if that lesson is revenge.
Piraeus extends at their feet. Sunlight and freedom and Jiexi's crest on the top of the tallest buildings.
Junsu's homeworld. It's worth it.
Sliding his fingers through Yunho's, Yoochun rests their laced hands on his stomach, smoke stinging his eyes even as it soothes his throat. Jaejoong's breathless sigh reaches his ears, Changmin's pleasured groan, and he can see them, heads tipped back and lips parted, Junsu's skilled mouth at work along porcelain skin.
"I was ashamed," he admits quietly, words he shouldn't be unfamiliar with, though never spoken but for this.
Yunho shakes his head, lips brushing the other man's neck in silent denial, though he knows no amount of protest will make the feeling disappear entirely. It doesn't mean he'll stop making them.
"Don't be a fool," he states evenly, thumb stroking the line of muscle stretching above Yoochun's navel. His tone is firm, though gentleness runs undercurrent. "It changes nothing, Yoochun."
The protest dies in Yoochun’s throat at the soft touch, chest tightening with emotion. He can't explain it, not really. Jaejoong has always had the way with words, not him.
"It changes me, doesn't it?" he asks, resting his head against the taller man's shoulder, turning to speaking the words against a smooth jaw. "It has to." It has to have meant something, otherwise how could he have looked a man in the eye and shot him? How could he have killed so many people for something that only matters to him?
Yunho swallows in a dry throat. "You're strong," he whispers, voicing his thoughts rather than answering the question. "And you're beautiful."
Yoochun bites at his lips, the words still foreign coming from Yunho and he's temped to pull away, but the older man holds him firmly in place, speaking against his ear. "You're a stubborn, proud son of a bitch and I love you for it. For all of it. None of that changes."
He tightens his grasp on the other's hand, raising it until he can press a kiss to his palm. A part of him clings to the words, drawing Yunho's resolve into himself through the press of their bodies, their shared breath. The rest of him can only remember how he was before, how things were. How he fears they won't be, can't be again. Yoochun swallows hard, eyes picking out the stars, tracing unfamiliar constellations.
"Yoochun," Yunho sighs, tightening his hold around the younger man, as if it alone might reassure him. It's hard to believe it can, in times like these.
Behind them, a soft murmur of voices and then Changmin cries out, the sound joyous and uninhibited.
Yoochun’s breath catches with the sound, letting it fill him, picturing the boy in his mind, the soft touch of skin and lips and hands. The distance is self-imposed, he knows. Were he to go inside, he'd be drawn back into their cocoon without a thought.
He stays, hand coming up to grasp Yunho's arm, letting the cigarette burn between his fingers.
"Stay." Here. With us. With me. Forever. Stay.
"Always," Yunho promises, voice shaking slightly with pent-up emotion. "Always," he repeats, gazing into Yoochun's eyes. There's nothing else for him but this life; he wouldn't want anything else. Gently, cautiously, his hand breaks free of Yoochun's hold to cup his jaw, tracing it with a sigh. "As long as you want me," he amends, meaning yes, Yochun, but the others as well. They're his reason.
Yoochun shifts in his arms, meeting dark eyes with his own, letting the other man see. His fear, his doubt. His love and his utter faith. Leaning up, he presses their mouths together, pouring need and desperation into the act, fingers skimming the line of his jaw.
They break apart for air almost unwillingly.
"It will get easier," Yunho promises, wills the words to become truth.
And God, there is doubt and it stings like a razor cut, threatening to swallow Yoochun whole, but he believes Yunho. Believes in him, so strongly, and that's what he does, isn't it? He believes until it consumes him. Until Jiexi's fight and Jiexi's war and the damn sick, raging flames of her insurrection burn him forever.
A thousand years ago, this man was his enemy. A thousand years ago, he led Changmin to intended execution, fired on Junsu, thought them soulless. Until he knew the planes of his stomach, the brush of his lips...
I'm so lost, he wants to say. Please.
Their second kiss is a measure of comfort. In it, Yunho pours his own fears, the ones he'll never admit to. He's a soldier at heart and comfort is alien to him, but for Yoochun, for these men, he'll never stop trying. Trailing his fingertips over the other man's arms as if to warm him, he brings their bodies closer.
Don't think. Just feel.
Yoochun submits under the other's touch, folds himself against a broad chest, his own frame too slight, too narrow against Yunho's. Catching his hand, he lets their kiss linger, slow and languid, a counterpoint to the breathless cries that echo from the walls.
For all the days he may have left, many or few, Yunho can't imagine he'll ever get used to the generosity of those around him. Yoochun's kiss undoes him, breaking him open until he's bare before the other man's eyes, figuratively if not literally just yet. Trust anchors him in the present and he exhales slowly, relaxing even as he feels himself harden slightly in response to Yoochun's touch, to the others' passionate moans.
"Yunho," the younger man murmurs when they pull apart, lips brushing still as he speaks. A soft smile, mimicking Changmin's word for the older man. "Hyung."
Drawing back ever so slightly, Yoochun traces the lines of the man's face, thumb brushing over high cheekbones, fingertips skimming the dark smudges of eyebrows the soft fullness of a kiss-swollen mouth. He feels the hardness pressing at his hip, eyelashes falling to half mast. This is how it should be. Lovers, not enemies. Not what was done to him...
Unspoken words of love hang on Yunho's tongue and he chokes slightly at the fear that blossoms in goosebumps over tanned skin, stealing another gentle kiss as Changmin's endearment on Yoochun's lips coincides with a breathless cry echoing behind them. He smirks as fantasy grounded in experience drives him to imagine what their friends are up to.
The same thought seems mirrored in Yoochun's eyes, despite the sorrow he sees lingering there and Yunho can't help himself. Doesn't want to try. Tilting the other man's head lightly to the side, he mouths the soft skin of his neck, asking without words.
Yoochun makes a soft noise of pleasure in the back of his throat, Yunho's mouth hot and insistent against his skin. Shifting until they’re standing as before, he hesitates before bringing Yunho's hand to rest between his legs, pressing back against the man. A silent answer and unspoken permission.
A plea.
Make me remember how this feels.
Yunho's resistance is minimal and it breaks down completely as he finds the evidence of Yoochun's arousal, skilled hands hurrying to reach for it beneath rough layers. It's as easy as ever to undress his lover, but he's determined not to allow darkness to shadow this. Yet he can't help but groan as he tightens his grasp around warm flesh, the tightness of his own clothes uncomfortable.
A small noise in the back of Yoochun's throat, his fingers tightening around the rail, white-knuckled, and Yunho slows his motion, covers the hand with his own. "Guide me," he whispers, gently mouthing the other man's skin. "Tell me." What you want, what you need. How you want me.
Yoochun takes in a shaking breath, head falling back to rest against Yunho's shoulder, eyes slipping closed.
"Yunho..." he breathes, shifting his hips forward, into his touch. "I...just please, be...be in me..."
Love me. Love me, love me.
The request fills Yunho's chest with tightness, robbing the air from his lungs because this isn't right. He isn't the one who Yoochun should be trusting to do this. Jaejoong, Junsu, but not him. He inhales, each breath heavier than the previous. But even as he lowers their trousers around their hips - first Yoochun's, then his own - he's kissing the other man's shoulder blade, the gesture a promise, a declaration in itself.
Won't hurt you. Ever.
He knows how Yoocun likes to be touched and he provides without needing to be told, watching, feeling for the smallest sigh of pain or displeasure. His strokes are rough but slow, a dangerous rhythm that usually drives Yoochun over the edge before any of the others can follow. He's always the one to catch them.
Yoochun reaches behind him to tangle his fingers in thick, soft hair, tugging slightly as Yunho's hand slides along his length. A gasp, mirrored by the man behind him, by the men in the room. Still connected, still... Jae breathes a sigh and Yoochun feels it slide along his skin, even as Yunho's length presses against him.
And this is beautiful and intoxicating and driving him far too close, but still he tenses involuntarily, the memory of pain too close to be forgotten. He doesn't want this to end, not yet--not ever, if he could help it, but it will. The thought chills him and he clutches the rail, pushing it back, trying to remember how Yunho feels inside him instead of the end of a cold, rough club....
"Please..." Make me forget. "I can't..."
"Shh," the older man soothes, his voice infinitely calmer as his treacherous body responds to the press of hips against his own. "I'm here. I'll do whatever you want me to do."
Fingers trace Yoochun's opening, the ring of muscle healed but far from yielding. He saw the others prepare each other earlier, oiled hands sliding between smooth thighs, lips and teeth biting playfully. He'd walked out before they began and he doesn't know why.
Yunho's touch is gentle, ever mindful of hurting his lovers; of hurting him. Stilling his hand, he presses the tip of his index within and hears Yoochun gasp.
"Okay?" he asks, breathlessly. "Want me to stop?"
There's a heavy silence, Yoochun's breaths stilted and shallow and he starts to withdraw, fearing he's gone too far when Yoochun grabs his wrist. "Don't stop," he gets out, fingernails digging into the skin. Yunho breathes a quiet 'alright', pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, waiting until he relaxes around the small intrusion to push deeper, until a single digit is settled inside the younger man.
"Love you so much," he murmurs, his voice catching. He's still not used to being so soft, but he won't dare be anything but. Won't dare fuck this up. Listening carefully for any sound of fear or protest, he works the digit in and out of the other man, pressing until he can find the source of pleasure inside him.
Yoochun gasps, quieter than he used to be, before, but less guarded than he was in the immediate aftermath.
"Go on," he murmurs, eyes closed and brows knit together in concentration. Yunho soothes him with lips and hands, but it's not enough. It won't be, for a while.
There's lube in his clothes, a small tube he took after the others were finished with it and he retrieves it without thought. He didn't come out here for this, but he won't deny Yoochun. He can't deny his lovers, not when life seems so determined to separate them at every turn.
He slicks himself slowly, Yoochun's body sagging forward. "You can take me, if it's easier..." He knows it's the wrong thing to say the moment cold, dark eyes flash to focus on him, Yoochun glaring over his shoulder.
"You said you'd do whatever I wanted you to do," he reminds him sharply. At least in that, he hasn't changed since their first time together on Elysia. Everything else is a matter of perception.
He can't help but smile at that, despite everything, stroking a hand over Yoochun's stomach in silent apology. A stubborn, proud son of a bitch, but one who's a part of him as surely as any of the others. He slides three fingers inside the other's body, making sure he's loose as he can be. Yoochun's body accepts them easily and he takes a deep breath, withdrawing and moving to position himself.
He pushes himself in slowly, inch by inch, fingers wrapping around Yoochun's erection, halting every time there's the slightest change in the other man's breathing or stance, until at long last he's settled inside him, holding him close.
Yoochun lets out a shaky breath, eyes staring out ahead of him, unseeing, until he lets them close, relaxes into Yunho's warmth. This is what is should be, this is what he's missed, feared he couldn't have again. He kisses the other man's fingertips even as his breath shakes, begging him to move.
And Yunho does. Slowly withdrawing, he presses back in as their breaths catch - theirs or the others' - as if he can't bear to be apart for longer than a moment. Yoochun's body is familiar, yet still a subject of wonder. He slides back and forth gently, pulling away only to bury himself back deep inside of him, the friction slight but powerful. He feels the tension in the younger man's body, wishes he could ease it somehow but always at a loss, always falling short of offering just what is needed. He tries, but the most he manages is a breathless moan, echoed by Junsu somewhere in the depths of the darkened bedroom.
"Yunho," Yoochun whispers almost reverently, the man's name falling like a prayer from his lips, back arching as he thrusts inside him.
Their movements are slow, bodies rocking together in tandem, breathing as one, skin flushed and heated between them. A soft touch to what should be inked skin leaves him whimpering with pleasure and sensation. Mixed feelings clash and mingle. Mate. Lover. Others too: Whore. Bitch.
"Yoochun," Yunho's voice interrupts his thoughts, hand slipping over his cock. "Stay with me." Yoochun's stomach twists, wishing for Changmin's lips around his length, for Jaejoong's hand to accompany Yunho's. For Junsu's whispered encouragement. Together, they could break the spell that has fallen over him, as if this were a fairytale.
It's not and they're alone out here, connected to the others by a thin thread of desynchronized gasps and cries of pleasure.
Licking his lips, Yoochun nods instead of speaking, seeking to match Yunho's slow thrusts, concentration slipping as he feels a wet finger between his shoulder blades. He moans, collapsing back onto his lover, needing his strength and his warmth to find their rhythm once more. "I...Gods above, I..."
His breath stutters with the slick slide of Yunho's hand over his length, inside his body, driving into him over and over, wringing soft, strangled noises of pleasure from him. He clutches at strong arms, turning his head to kiss Yunho's jaw. Another thrust and steady pull and he's spilling over Yunho's fingers with a low moan, cheeks damp and lithe frame shaking.
Uncharacteristically, Yunho feels his eyes water and thinks it may be the cold air, it may be the pressure in his chest. Anything but the sight of Yoochun, crying in his arms.
Almost unwillingly, he follows in ecstasy, the other man's body tightening agonizingly around him and wringing a harsh cry from his lips. Spent, he falls with one arm on the rail, the other locked around Yoochun's waist, and tries to break with gravity. He fails.
Yoochun lets out a soft grunt of pain as his knees smack the stone, still holding tightly to Yunho, the other man softening inside him, even as he presses back against him. Turning slightly in Yunho's arms, he gives a soft, shaky smile, lacing their fingers together once more and pressing Yunho's hand over his racing heart.
"Always," Yunho repeats, shakily, whole body weak and drained but still trying to shield Yoochun's from some unseen danger. "Always," he repeats, kissing the younger man lightly. He can't manage more because of his own rushing pulse.
He draws out, slick and warm against Yoochun's thigh, but only to adjust his hold. It's as if they need this closeness more than any form of release.
"Alright?" he asks softly, kissing a thin shoulder, needing to check.
Yoochun nods, bringing their mouths together once more. "Yeah. I am."
Yunho tightens his embrace, resting his forehead against a trembling shoulder and trying to calm his racing heart. "Come on, let's go inside."
He helps Yoochun to his feet, their bodies weak with exhaustion, straining his ears to hear the sound of life from behind tall glass doors. Over marbled floors, past thick velvet curtains, following the path laid out by their clothes scattered every which way, their lovers lie entwined on the bed, Junsu encased between strong arms, his mouth occupied by Changmin's as Jaejoong trails slow, sucking kisses down the length of his spine. They sink into the warm, soft mattress beside them, long fingers entwining with Yoochun's, Changmin squeezing lightly even as others tangle in Junsu's hair.
Yunho fits against his back like a missing puzzle piece, hands ghosting over his skin, alighting against his navel. Heavy breath pours in his ear, but there are no hellish memories to destroy this moment. Jaejoong looks up, scratching nails over Junsu's thighs as he pulls him up and Changmin groans, his eyes falling shut at the loss.
Junsu undulates his hips like Jaejoong does sometimes. It's less practiced, less sophisticated, but the half-circle he draws over their bodies when they hold him like this is pure, heated pleasure. He props his hands on Changmin's shoulders and breaks free of Jaejoong's grasp, leading them rather than being led.
Yoochun watches, feels Changmin's fist close around his with every effort to stall his orgasm. There's no need, he wants to say, watching flushed cheeks clench with determination.
"Let go," Yunho murmurs by their side and Changmin's eyes fly open, focusing on him with the faith, the trust of a lover. He curves into Junsu's waiting arms, spilling with a cry they all understand.
It isn't until he clutches helplessly at Junsu's arms and looks like he wants to apologize that the others spring into action. Yoochun's hand flits over his chest and abdomen, feeling the muscles tremble when he wraps warm fingers around his softening cock. Junsu whimpers at the loss of contact even as he takes Changmin's lips. Behind him, Jaejoong smirks and angles his hips.
They take him like that, trapping his body between them and his face in the crook of Changmin's neck. Yoochun smiles with every thrust that sends his lover forward into strong, lanky arms and every kiss Jaejoong lays to his shoulders. It's stilted and far from perfect, but warmth blossoms in his chest at the sight of it and he thinks it's enough to help him forget all else.
He watches them come together and opens his arms when Junsu rolls off of Changmin with a tired sigh. Jaejoong is last to fall, his hands sliding over Junsu's bruises as if to check which were there before and which he left in his clumsiness.
Yunho stills his hand and brings it to his lips as if to say: "We're safe, now. You can rest." And Jaejoong does, wrapping an arm around Changmin's waist and closing his eyes.
The lie is bittersweet but Yoochun doesn't begrudge his lover for it. He knows he'd repeat it gladly if he were sure it could grant them some reprieve from the sound of battle. War is on their doorstep, begging to be taken into account, begging for their intervention. Jiexi won't have it otherwise. Her knife in hand, she'll lead them to victory. She's got to.
Slowly, the moment blurs, fades like a memory. Above them, Yoochun sees angels on the vaulted ceiling, their wings flickering with the light and color of a rising sun.
On the horizon, dawn is breaking.
THE END