Fic: Draw, NC-17
Title: Draw
Author: butterflyweb
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When the board's stacked against you, sometimes you have to settle for meeting in the middle.
Warning: law-suit talk
Changmin doesn’t like to lie.
He hates the complication of it, the guilt that takes root in the pit of his stomach and makes it all he can think about. There’s nothing worse than looking in the face of someone who trusts you and wouldn’t question you, and betraying them. He can’t stand it.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t good at it.
Tugging his beanie down over his ears, he keeps his eyes down and shoulders slumped, attempting to hide his height. The Seoul winter is cutting through his coat, wind stinging at his face, but he doesn’t stop and hail a cab. He isn’t going far enough to warrant it, and maybe the discomfort lets him pretend the universe is a little more even.
He finds himself oddly thankful that he’s been reclusive enough over the past months that no fans expect to see him. It let’s him keep his guard down just enough that his heart isn’t jackhammering in his chest as he walks the three blocks to the hotel.
He knows a room key will be left for him, it always is, just like he’s always the one coming, and never the one waiting. It’s unspoken, and the familiarity makes it easier, even when it’s something that shouldn’t be easy at all.
The key is under another name, a different one used every time, and he keeps his sunglasses on inside and his eyes on the desk counter as it’s passed to him, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. All the things he’s learned in seven years of trying to avoid unwanted attention paying off.
Changmin hesitates outside the door, key in his hand.
It’s not a betrayal, he tells himself. Yunho would understand, if he knew. So would Kyuhyun, hell, so would Heechul. It’s not like he wasn’t still running up his cell phone bill talking to Geng.
He doesn’t have to feel ashamed. The fact that he does, that he’s forced to sneak around at all, that they’re in this situation in the fucking first place sends a predictable rush of anger through him, and strangely enough, it’s what gives him in the courage to run the key card and open the door. To walk in and face the room’s sole occupant.
Changmin closes the door behind him, setting the lock and for a long moment, hesitating to turn and meet the eyes of the man sitting on the bed.
“I’m glad you came.”
The words break the silence, and there’s no pretending now, no getting it back. His shoulders slump, Changmin taking a deep breath as he turns and starts to shrug out of his coat.
“Yeah, you say that every time.”
“I mean it every time.” Junsu’s voice is quiet, legs folded under himself where he sits on the bed. He’s lost weight since the last time Changmin saw him, weight he couldn’t afford to lose. He notes it detachedly, like he would take in a new advertisement on a building. Take it in and move on.
He tosses his coat on the couch, moving to sit down beside it, his posturing unconsciously defensive--leaning back, arms over chest, legs open--and belligerent.
Silence hangs heavy in the air. Waiting for one of them to step past initial pleasantries, for their twisted little chess match to begin all over again, like it does every time he’s met the other man like this over the past year.There’s no circumventing it--it’s the only way he can forgive himself for lying to Yunho’s face, after everything.
“Congratulations,” Junsu starts, not looking at him, eyes intent on the ugly landscape painting that’s nailed to the wall. “On your wins, lately.”
Pawn to G3. Tentative. The other man is tired of the fight already, has been tired of it, Changmin thinks, for months now. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t his choice to make.
“Thank you. It’s starting to shut up all the people who thought we couldn’t do it without you.”
Knight to H6. Aggressive. Ignoring strategy in favor of upping the kill ratio.
Junsu doesn’t respond to that, but Changmin can see him tense from across the room, wetting his lips absently. His hair isn’t styled, make-up isn’t done, and without it, Changmin thinks, almost viciously, he look so average. Like no one important, just another twenty three year old who’s stressed about work and having trouble sleeping. He so easily could’ve been no one, and he wonders if Junsu gets that now.
“How’s Yunho-hyung?”
There comes the bishop, striking out two spaces. Bold, but ultimately backing himself into a corner. Changmin tenses like he’s been slapped, lifting his chin defiantly.
“You don’t get to ask about him.”
And there, there it is, the glint in Junsu’s eyes that comes when he’s exhausted his patience for playing the martyr, for taking the beating, his spine straightening with his ire.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? He’s my oldest friend, I knew him before any of you, you don’t get to--”
“You don’t get to write that,” Changmin cuts him off, leaning forward, his jaw tight, “and ask about him. You don’t get to go on that site and act like a twit and take a shot at a man’s back when it’s turned and then ask about him!”
The hurt bubbles up like a fountain, and Junsu’s always been so easy. Like a fucking stupid child, ruled by petty feelings and his own naivete.
“I told you that was a mistake, okay, it was late and I hadn’t slept, and I tried to call him again, and he didn’t--”
“Of course he didn’t pick up! Why the hell should he listen to anything the three of you have to say after the past year?”
Junsu is already shaking his head, hands tight on his knees. “That’s not fair, Changmin, you know that’s not fair--”
“No. What isn’t fair is watching him take everything they’ve thrown at him over the past year like it was deserved. What isn’t fair, Kim Junsu, is him having to take the fall for your choice, and then--”
“You think I wanted that?” Junsu cries out, angry and desperate, his voice cracking in a way that tells Changmin his outer defenses are crumbling. That they were never made of much more than toothpicks and tape to begin with.
“You think I have any control over what the media says?” His voice chokes, pressing his fist into the mattress. “It was a mistake to say that, I know it was, but dammit, Changmin! I feel like I have a gag in my mouth, between the lawyers and the PR team and the managers and Jaejoong hyung and Yoochun--” His voice falters and Changmin sits in silence, staring at the floor, his body trembling with suppressed feeling.
“I can’t talk to anyone. My family...they’re all so worried, how can I say anything that undermines this choice? Huh? And Hyukjae....fuck, I feel like...” Another catch. “I feel like for the third time in my life, I’m leaving him behind, and he’s not going to forgive it one of these times, I know he won’t.”
“Junsu--”
“I can’t talk to you,” Junsu whispers, pressing his hands over his face. Hiding. It makes Changmin want to hit him, even more than the way his eyes are stinging, forcing him to look away. “Min-ah, I could always talk to you--”
“Stop it. Stop it, you can’t do that, okay,” Changmin bites hard on his tongue, hands forming tight fists to stop their shaking. Junsu shuts up, and he doesn’t know whether to be grateful, or hate him for it.
The silence feels like quicksand, swallowing him slowly, inch by inch, like he has to do something now or it’ll be too late, but he can’t see a way out of it.
Junsu throws him a rope.
“You never yell at me,” the other man whispers, “on your behalf. You know that? If you have something to say to me, it’s always about Yunho-hyung.”
Changmin swallows hard. Thrown off his guard, fighting to castle his king. “He’s too soft-hearted. He won’t say anything to defend himself, he’ll just fucking internalize it. I have to do it for him, and I will. It’s called loyalty, Junsu.” He doesn’t call him hyung. He never has, not when they’re alone, and even now, he can’t bring himself to put up the barrier.
The older man ignores the jab, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.
“Then what does that make you?” Junsu murmurs, the heaviness in the air almost tangible, something that never used to define their interaction now enveloping it. “You’ve never once told me you hated me, that I hurt you. You’ve never accused me of leaving you, you never ask about the others, never say I’m the reason you lost seven kilos and never smile anymore--”
“Because you aren’t,” Changmin forces out, his throat raw and the words a feeble shield against the onslaught. “So goddamn full of yourself, so eager to think yourself so damn important--”
“Changmin.”
He pushes himself off the couch with a sharp, sudden movement, walking over to the window, turning his back on him. Hiding.
He feels more than he hears Junsu’s approach, the shorter man standing behind him, and he feels the silence closing around his throat like a vice. He doesn’t want him to say it, he’ll fucking leave if he says it--
“Changmin, you know, don’t you?” Junsu gets out. “You know it was never about leaving you--”
Changmin doesn’t give him a chance to finish, turning around and grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him into the wall and leaning in to force their mouths together. Desperately attempting to shut him up, because his army is sitting by the side of the chess board, and he has no more defenses.
He can’t hide anymore how much he’s missed him.
Junsu only hesitates a moment before he’s surging against him, hands clutching at his shirt tight enough to rip it, but Changmin doesn’t give a damn.
They break to breathe, Junsu panting softly, their mouths bare centimeters apart and Changmin feels a surge of pain in his chest.
“I don’t want to fight anymore, Changmin, please, just...”
He doesn’t let him finish, kissing him again, hands falling to curl behind Junsu’s thighs, lifting him until the older man is wrapping his legs around Changmin’s waist, letting him pin him to the wall. Junsu fights to pull his shirt over his head and not break the kiss, every action between them filled with desperation, the seconds ticking before one of them punches the clock and resets the wait until next time.
His t-shirt is lost somewhere to the floor and hands are on his bare skin, his mouth at Junsu’s neck, making him groan beneath him and it’s just been too long.
Pulling at his belt, he gets his hands on the buckle and pulls it free, the heel of his hand brushing the erection Junsu is sporting. Junsu gasps, his head knocking back against the wall, nails cutting half-moons into Changmin’s skin and he doesn’t even care.
“Bed,” Junsu gets out, tugging his head up and into another kiss, messy and too-rough, their teetch clacking together. Like they’re still teenagers in the back of a car, like this is the last time they’ll see each other.
It’s like that every time they meet and Changmin refuses to admit that’s because it could be. No. He and Junsu are both way too fucking stubborn to ever let that be the case.
Holding onto him, Junsu’s pants undone and his own pulled low on his hips, Changmin backs up until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards onto the mattress, breath knocked out of him. He doesn’t get a chance to get it back, Junsu on top of him, pinning his hands down and slipping his tongue into his mouth. Changmin pushes up against him, knowing he could free himself if he wanted to, but that’s not what this is about. He’s missed Junsu’s weight on top of him, missed the way the older man reaches inside of him and takes every last ounce of control he has.
He’s been wandering lost, and he needs someone to find him, to hold him down and remind him of everything he’s tried to forget.
Junsu rocks his hips against him, the friction addictive and wonderful and not near enough, the two of them rutting against each other as they try to catch their breath between kisses.
Hands tighten their hold on his wrists, Junsu pressing him hard into the bed, his lips at Changmin’s jaw and it makes his heart turnover in his chest. In a corner, no more room to run.
“Don’t forget I love you,” Junsu whispers, and he closes his eyes tight, pushing up with his hips and trying to ignore the words. It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair, how can he just do this--
“I love you, I love you so much, you know I do, you arrogant jerk, don’t forget it, don’t you dare,” Junsu chokes, dropping one hand down to reach between them, tugging at Changmin’s belt.
Changmin stares up at the ceiling, his heart in his throat, keeping the words locked down tight where he needs them to be.
Junsu gets a hand inside his jeans, wrapped warm and tight around him and Changmin chokes on a breath, pushing into the grip. He reaches to thread his fingers through Junsu’s hair, bringing his mouth back as if he can spell out all the unsaid truths against his lips. As if Junsu would understand.
They both fumble to get clothing off, Changmin toeing off his sneakers, Junsu’s jeans getting caught around his ankles and his shirt still on one arm when they fall back to bed. Kicking the sheets aside, Changmin spreads his legs without shame underneath him, bangs in his eyes and skin already damp with sweat.
Junsu looks down at him with the same concentration and focus Changmin has always seen him apply to the things he wants to do right, and just thinking that makes him smile faintly. It changes the other man’s expressing, Junsu’s thumb tracing the curve of his bottom lip.
“I’ve missed that.”
Changmin hooks a leg behind his knee, pulling him a little closer and holding him there, until they’re stretch out along each other, all bare skin and muscles and showing ribs.
He brushes Junsu’s bangs off his forehead, his smile muting but staying warm.
“I find it again when I’m with you.” It’s not something he would say, not something he probably should say. He should be watching his heart, keeping it safe under wraps, but the way Junsu’s eyes change at the words...he can’t bring himself to take them back.
Junsu kisses him deep and slow, reaching to draw up Changmin’s left knee, fingers slick with lube Changmin never saw him open, his head falling back against the pillow.
“Junsu...” he breathes as the first finger sinks inside of him, opening him up in a way he’s only allowed this man. His back arches, inhaling sharply, fingers curling into the sheet and tugging.
It’s been weeks, since before Christmas, and he fights to ignore the burn when Junsu adds a second a moment later, hand-fucking him slowly as Changmin cants his hips foward.
“Tell me if it’s too fast,” Junsu gets out, arousal making his voice then, the other man leaning forward to rest his head against Changmin’s shoulder. He’s shaking, Changmin lifting a hand to run down the length of his back, stomach tight. He understands.
“Not too fast,” he whispers, groaning when Junsu pushes in a third, his body so tight around the other man’s fingers, fighting to relax and let him in. Let them both have what they want, what they’ve been needing from each other all this time.
When Junsu finally pushes inside of him...he can’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” the other man whispers, leaning down to kiss him, apologizing again as it shifts the angle and makes Changmin whimper low in his throat.
“Sorry, sorry...” he pets gently at Changmin’s hair, thumb brushing where it’s been shaved at the sides. Changmin kisses him, the heel of his foot digging into the mattress, holding tight to him.
“Just...fuck, just move, Su-yah...”
Junsu doesn’t wait to be told twice, drawing back and pushing in roughly, immediately starting a hard, fast rhythm that tells Changmin he isn’t the only one who’s been craving this.
“You’re so tight inside,” Junsu breathes against his ear, Changmin’s eyes screwed shut as he rocks back into each thrust, fingers digging into Junsu’s shoulder. “So tight and hot, Changmin, Christ...”
It’s perfect, the way they come together, the way Junsu moves inside him, the way they kiss and bite, the way Junsu groans low and musical beside Changmin’s ear.
“I know you’re close already,” the other man breathes, Changmin’s hand between them, tugging himself off almost desperately. He moans in response, looking up at Junsu with wide eyes and parted lips.
“I know, Min-ah, come for me, please...”
It doesn’t take much more than that, Changmin crying out as Junsu surges against him, hitting just there, and then he’s spilling over his hand, eyes shut tight.
Junsu kisses him hard, stealing his breath as he fucks him to his own completion, Changmin feeling the heat spread inside him. He can feel the dampness of Junsu’s skin, of his own eyes, shaking as he holds tight to him, lungs burning.
They don’t speak, trying desperately to hold onto this brief moment of uncomplicated bliss, kissing lazily, Changmin’s hand in Junsu’s hair. Outside this door, this hotel, this bed, everything is still a mess. Nothing is solved these nights they spend between the sheets, there are no answers found in the hollows of Junsu’s collarbones, in the way he kisses. Nothing changes when they leave.
But it’s what they both need, Changmin knows, breaking the kiss to pet gently at Junsu’s hair, letting the other man rest his head against his shoulder. It’s something neither of them are willing to give up.
“You weren’t supposed to stay,” Junsu whispers, almost inaudible, tightening his hold on him, as if he’s just waiting for Changmin to pull away, to start grabbing his clothes and shutting him out all over again.
Changmin feels himself tense, closing his eyes for a long moment.
You weren’t supposed to go.
He kisses his temple, a hand running down his spine, and hopes Junsu will take the silent forgiveness and hold onto it when they do this same dance all over again in some other room, some other bed, some other hotel.
Author: butterflyweb
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When the board's stacked against you, sometimes you have to settle for meeting in the middle.
Warning: law-suit talk
Changmin doesn’t like to lie.
He hates the complication of it, the guilt that takes root in the pit of his stomach and makes it all he can think about. There’s nothing worse than looking in the face of someone who trusts you and wouldn’t question you, and betraying them. He can’t stand it.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t good at it.
Tugging his beanie down over his ears, he keeps his eyes down and shoulders slumped, attempting to hide his height. The Seoul winter is cutting through his coat, wind stinging at his face, but he doesn’t stop and hail a cab. He isn’t going far enough to warrant it, and maybe the discomfort lets him pretend the universe is a little more even.
He finds himself oddly thankful that he’s been reclusive enough over the past months that no fans expect to see him. It let’s him keep his guard down just enough that his heart isn’t jackhammering in his chest as he walks the three blocks to the hotel.
He knows a room key will be left for him, it always is, just like he’s always the one coming, and never the one waiting. It’s unspoken, and the familiarity makes it easier, even when it’s something that shouldn’t be easy at all.
The key is under another name, a different one used every time, and he keeps his sunglasses on inside and his eyes on the desk counter as it’s passed to him, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. All the things he’s learned in seven years of trying to avoid unwanted attention paying off.
Changmin hesitates outside the door, key in his hand.
It’s not a betrayal, he tells himself. Yunho would understand, if he knew. So would Kyuhyun, hell, so would Heechul. It’s not like he wasn’t still running up his cell phone bill talking to Geng.
He doesn’t have to feel ashamed. The fact that he does, that he’s forced to sneak around at all, that they’re in this situation in the fucking first place sends a predictable rush of anger through him, and strangely enough, it’s what gives him in the courage to run the key card and open the door. To walk in and face the room’s sole occupant.
Changmin closes the door behind him, setting the lock and for a long moment, hesitating to turn and meet the eyes of the man sitting on the bed.
“I’m glad you came.”
The words break the silence, and there’s no pretending now, no getting it back. His shoulders slump, Changmin taking a deep breath as he turns and starts to shrug out of his coat.
“Yeah, you say that every time.”
“I mean it every time.” Junsu’s voice is quiet, legs folded under himself where he sits on the bed. He’s lost weight since the last time Changmin saw him, weight he couldn’t afford to lose. He notes it detachedly, like he would take in a new advertisement on a building. Take it in and move on.
He tosses his coat on the couch, moving to sit down beside it, his posturing unconsciously defensive--leaning back, arms over chest, legs open--and belligerent.
Silence hangs heavy in the air. Waiting for one of them to step past initial pleasantries, for their twisted little chess match to begin all over again, like it does every time he’s met the other man like this over the past year.There’s no circumventing it--it’s the only way he can forgive himself for lying to Yunho’s face, after everything.
“Congratulations,” Junsu starts, not looking at him, eyes intent on the ugly landscape painting that’s nailed to the wall. “On your wins, lately.”
Pawn to G3. Tentative. The other man is tired of the fight already, has been tired of it, Changmin thinks, for months now. It doesn’t matter. It isn’t his choice to make.
“Thank you. It’s starting to shut up all the people who thought we couldn’t do it without you.”
Knight to H6. Aggressive. Ignoring strategy in favor of upping the kill ratio.
Junsu doesn’t respond to that, but Changmin can see him tense from across the room, wetting his lips absently. His hair isn’t styled, make-up isn’t done, and without it, Changmin thinks, almost viciously, he look so average. Like no one important, just another twenty three year old who’s stressed about work and having trouble sleeping. He so easily could’ve been no one, and he wonders if Junsu gets that now.
“How’s Yunho-hyung?”
There comes the bishop, striking out two spaces. Bold, but ultimately backing himself into a corner. Changmin tenses like he’s been slapped, lifting his chin defiantly.
“You don’t get to ask about him.”
And there, there it is, the glint in Junsu’s eyes that comes when he’s exhausted his patience for playing the martyr, for taking the beating, his spine straightening with his ire.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? He’s my oldest friend, I knew him before any of you, you don’t get to--”
“You don’t get to write that,” Changmin cuts him off, leaning forward, his jaw tight, “and ask about him. You don’t get to go on that site and act like a twit and take a shot at a man’s back when it’s turned and then ask about him!”
The hurt bubbles up like a fountain, and Junsu’s always been so easy. Like a fucking stupid child, ruled by petty feelings and his own naivete.
“I told you that was a mistake, okay, it was late and I hadn’t slept, and I tried to call him again, and he didn’t--”
“Of course he didn’t pick up! Why the hell should he listen to anything the three of you have to say after the past year?”
Junsu is already shaking his head, hands tight on his knees. “That’s not fair, Changmin, you know that’s not fair--”
“No. What isn’t fair is watching him take everything they’ve thrown at him over the past year like it was deserved. What isn’t fair, Kim Junsu, is him having to take the fall for your choice, and then--”
“You think I wanted that?” Junsu cries out, angry and desperate, his voice cracking in a way that tells Changmin his outer defenses are crumbling. That they were never made of much more than toothpicks and tape to begin with.
“You think I have any control over what the media says?” His voice chokes, pressing his fist into the mattress. “It was a mistake to say that, I know it was, but dammit, Changmin! I feel like I have a gag in my mouth, between the lawyers and the PR team and the managers and Jaejoong hyung and Yoochun--” His voice falters and Changmin sits in silence, staring at the floor, his body trembling with suppressed feeling.
“I can’t talk to anyone. My family...they’re all so worried, how can I say anything that undermines this choice? Huh? And Hyukjae....fuck, I feel like...” Another catch. “I feel like for the third time in my life, I’m leaving him behind, and he’s not going to forgive it one of these times, I know he won’t.”
“Junsu--”
“I can’t talk to you,” Junsu whispers, pressing his hands over his face. Hiding. It makes Changmin want to hit him, even more than the way his eyes are stinging, forcing him to look away. “Min-ah, I could always talk to you--”
“Stop it. Stop it, you can’t do that, okay,” Changmin bites hard on his tongue, hands forming tight fists to stop their shaking. Junsu shuts up, and he doesn’t know whether to be grateful, or hate him for it.
The silence feels like quicksand, swallowing him slowly, inch by inch, like he has to do something now or it’ll be too late, but he can’t see a way out of it.
Junsu throws him a rope.
“You never yell at me,” the other man whispers, “on your behalf. You know that? If you have something to say to me, it’s always about Yunho-hyung.”
Changmin swallows hard. Thrown off his guard, fighting to castle his king. “He’s too soft-hearted. He won’t say anything to defend himself, he’ll just fucking internalize it. I have to do it for him, and I will. It’s called loyalty, Junsu.” He doesn’t call him hyung. He never has, not when they’re alone, and even now, he can’t bring himself to put up the barrier.
The older man ignores the jab, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.
“Then what does that make you?” Junsu murmurs, the heaviness in the air almost tangible, something that never used to define their interaction now enveloping it. “You’ve never once told me you hated me, that I hurt you. You’ve never accused me of leaving you, you never ask about the others, never say I’m the reason you lost seven kilos and never smile anymore--”
“Because you aren’t,” Changmin forces out, his throat raw and the words a feeble shield against the onslaught. “So goddamn full of yourself, so eager to think yourself so damn important--”
“Changmin.”
He pushes himself off the couch with a sharp, sudden movement, walking over to the window, turning his back on him. Hiding.
He feels more than he hears Junsu’s approach, the shorter man standing behind him, and he feels the silence closing around his throat like a vice. He doesn’t want him to say it, he’ll fucking leave if he says it--
“Changmin, you know, don’t you?” Junsu gets out. “You know it was never about leaving you--”
Changmin doesn’t give him a chance to finish, turning around and grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him into the wall and leaning in to force their mouths together. Desperately attempting to shut him up, because his army is sitting by the side of the chess board, and he has no more defenses.
He can’t hide anymore how much he’s missed him.
Junsu only hesitates a moment before he’s surging against him, hands clutching at his shirt tight enough to rip it, but Changmin doesn’t give a damn.
They break to breathe, Junsu panting softly, their mouths bare centimeters apart and Changmin feels a surge of pain in his chest.
“I don’t want to fight anymore, Changmin, please, just...”
He doesn’t let him finish, kissing him again, hands falling to curl behind Junsu’s thighs, lifting him until the older man is wrapping his legs around Changmin’s waist, letting him pin him to the wall. Junsu fights to pull his shirt over his head and not break the kiss, every action between them filled with desperation, the seconds ticking before one of them punches the clock and resets the wait until next time.
His t-shirt is lost somewhere to the floor and hands are on his bare skin, his mouth at Junsu’s neck, making him groan beneath him and it’s just been too long.
Pulling at his belt, he gets his hands on the buckle and pulls it free, the heel of his hand brushing the erection Junsu is sporting. Junsu gasps, his head knocking back against the wall, nails cutting half-moons into Changmin’s skin and he doesn’t even care.
“Bed,” Junsu gets out, tugging his head up and into another kiss, messy and too-rough, their teetch clacking together. Like they’re still teenagers in the back of a car, like this is the last time they’ll see each other.
It’s like that every time they meet and Changmin refuses to admit that’s because it could be. No. He and Junsu are both way too fucking stubborn to ever let that be the case.
Holding onto him, Junsu’s pants undone and his own pulled low on his hips, Changmin backs up until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards onto the mattress, breath knocked out of him. He doesn’t get a chance to get it back, Junsu on top of him, pinning his hands down and slipping his tongue into his mouth. Changmin pushes up against him, knowing he could free himself if he wanted to, but that’s not what this is about. He’s missed Junsu’s weight on top of him, missed the way the older man reaches inside of him and takes every last ounce of control he has.
He’s been wandering lost, and he needs someone to find him, to hold him down and remind him of everything he’s tried to forget.
Junsu rocks his hips against him, the friction addictive and wonderful and not near enough, the two of them rutting against each other as they try to catch their breath between kisses.
Hands tighten their hold on his wrists, Junsu pressing him hard into the bed, his lips at Changmin’s jaw and it makes his heart turnover in his chest. In a corner, no more room to run.
“Don’t forget I love you,” Junsu whispers, and he closes his eyes tight, pushing up with his hips and trying to ignore the words. It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair, how can he just do this--
“I love you, I love you so much, you know I do, you arrogant jerk, don’t forget it, don’t you dare,” Junsu chokes, dropping one hand down to reach between them, tugging at Changmin’s belt.
Changmin stares up at the ceiling, his heart in his throat, keeping the words locked down tight where he needs them to be.
Junsu gets a hand inside his jeans, wrapped warm and tight around him and Changmin chokes on a breath, pushing into the grip. He reaches to thread his fingers through Junsu’s hair, bringing his mouth back as if he can spell out all the unsaid truths against his lips. As if Junsu would understand.
They both fumble to get clothing off, Changmin toeing off his sneakers, Junsu’s jeans getting caught around his ankles and his shirt still on one arm when they fall back to bed. Kicking the sheets aside, Changmin spreads his legs without shame underneath him, bangs in his eyes and skin already damp with sweat.
Junsu looks down at him with the same concentration and focus Changmin has always seen him apply to the things he wants to do right, and just thinking that makes him smile faintly. It changes the other man’s expressing, Junsu’s thumb tracing the curve of his bottom lip.
“I’ve missed that.”
Changmin hooks a leg behind his knee, pulling him a little closer and holding him there, until they’re stretch out along each other, all bare skin and muscles and showing ribs.
He brushes Junsu’s bangs off his forehead, his smile muting but staying warm.
“I find it again when I’m with you.” It’s not something he would say, not something he probably should say. He should be watching his heart, keeping it safe under wraps, but the way Junsu’s eyes change at the words...he can’t bring himself to take them back.
Junsu kisses him deep and slow, reaching to draw up Changmin’s left knee, fingers slick with lube Changmin never saw him open, his head falling back against the pillow.
“Junsu...” he breathes as the first finger sinks inside of him, opening him up in a way he’s only allowed this man. His back arches, inhaling sharply, fingers curling into the sheet and tugging.
It’s been weeks, since before Christmas, and he fights to ignore the burn when Junsu adds a second a moment later, hand-fucking him slowly as Changmin cants his hips foward.
“Tell me if it’s too fast,” Junsu gets out, arousal making his voice then, the other man leaning forward to rest his head against Changmin’s shoulder. He’s shaking, Changmin lifting a hand to run down the length of his back, stomach tight. He understands.
“Not too fast,” he whispers, groaning when Junsu pushes in a third, his body so tight around the other man’s fingers, fighting to relax and let him in. Let them both have what they want, what they’ve been needing from each other all this time.
When Junsu finally pushes inside of him...he can’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” the other man whispers, leaning down to kiss him, apologizing again as it shifts the angle and makes Changmin whimper low in his throat.
“Sorry, sorry...” he pets gently at Changmin’s hair, thumb brushing where it’s been shaved at the sides. Changmin kisses him, the heel of his foot digging into the mattress, holding tight to him.
“Just...fuck, just move, Su-yah...”
Junsu doesn’t wait to be told twice, drawing back and pushing in roughly, immediately starting a hard, fast rhythm that tells Changmin he isn’t the only one who’s been craving this.
“You’re so tight inside,” Junsu breathes against his ear, Changmin’s eyes screwed shut as he rocks back into each thrust, fingers digging into Junsu’s shoulder. “So tight and hot, Changmin, Christ...”
It’s perfect, the way they come together, the way Junsu moves inside him, the way they kiss and bite, the way Junsu groans low and musical beside Changmin’s ear.
“I know you’re close already,” the other man breathes, Changmin’s hand between them, tugging himself off almost desperately. He moans in response, looking up at Junsu with wide eyes and parted lips.
“I know, Min-ah, come for me, please...”
It doesn’t take much more than that, Changmin crying out as Junsu surges against him, hitting just there, and then he’s spilling over his hand, eyes shut tight.
Junsu kisses him hard, stealing his breath as he fucks him to his own completion, Changmin feeling the heat spread inside him. He can feel the dampness of Junsu’s skin, of his own eyes, shaking as he holds tight to him, lungs burning.
They don’t speak, trying desperately to hold onto this brief moment of uncomplicated bliss, kissing lazily, Changmin’s hand in Junsu’s hair. Outside this door, this hotel, this bed, everything is still a mess. Nothing is solved these nights they spend between the sheets, there are no answers found in the hollows of Junsu’s collarbones, in the way he kisses. Nothing changes when they leave.
But it’s what they both need, Changmin knows, breaking the kiss to pet gently at Junsu’s hair, letting the other man rest his head against his shoulder. It’s something neither of them are willing to give up.
“You weren’t supposed to stay,” Junsu whispers, almost inaudible, tightening his hold on him, as if he’s just waiting for Changmin to pull away, to start grabbing his clothes and shutting him out all over again.
Changmin feels himself tense, closing his eyes for a long moment.
You weren’t supposed to go.
He kisses his temple, a hand running down his spine, and hopes Junsu will take the silent forgiveness and hold onto it when they do this same dance all over again in some other room, some other bed, some other hotel.