Stockholm Syndrome 10
Title: Stockholm Syndrome 10
Author: onthethruway01
Pairing: Yoosu
Rating: NC 17
Genre: smut, yaoi, angst, violence, revenge
Summary: Yoochun seeks revenge against Junsu’s adopted father.
“What the Hell are you doing here?”
Junsu’s lower lip trembled as Yoochun yelled at him.
“I told you to lay low. This isn’t a joke Junsu. People could get hurt.”
Junsu flinched as Yoochun continued to lecture him. He wondered if the club owner’s office was sound proof, or if his patrons and employees could hear Yoochun chastising him.
“I wanted to see you.”
Yoochun’s anger turned to something else he couldn’t quite understand. He had been trying to forget Junsu; get him out of his head; but he failed. Yes he loved the younger man; but he was beginning to feel guilty for what he had done. Now it was too late to turn back; his love had been expressed and despite the ridiculousness of it all, Junsu had fallen in love too.
Yoochun stared into Junsu’s big brown eyes; they threatened to weep at any moment.
“Junsu,” he gasped as he wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist.
The kiss was hard and abrupt; Junsu staggering backwards, his body pressed against Yoochun’s desk.
Urgency overcame reason; Yoochun’s arm sweeping the contents of the desk onto the floor. Caught up in a whirlwind of chaos and lust, Yoochun took Junsu hard and fast; both men moaning and grunting like animals in the wild. White knuckles gripped the edges of the wooden desk; slacks pooled at his ankles; Junsu’s body shuddered as his lover thrust deep inside him; skin prickled and flushed with heat; a ripple effect shot through him and he came. Yoochun’s hands gripped his lover’s hips as he bucked forward and spilled; his body arched; the light from an overhead lamp accentuating his long neck and pale skin.
They huddled together on the floor; breathless, Yoochun cradled Junsu in his arms as the younger man wept.
“It’s going to be fine. Everything will be ok.”
Yoochun lit a cigarette and offered a puff to his lover.
Junsu shook his head.
Yoochun laughed as he staggered to his feet. With the cigarette between his teeth he zipped up his pants then outstretched his arm to a still trembling Junsu. The younger man grasped his lover’s hand, Yoochun pulling him into his chest. They kissed again; softly this time; Yoochun’s heart skipping a beat as he tasted the salt of Junsu’s tears.
“Go now,” he whispered softly. Do as I tell you. Don’t call me and for God’s sake don’t come here again. When it’s over, we’ll be together, I promise.”
Junsu nodded his head as he walked to the door.
“And one more thing, Su-ah; zip up your fly.”
Junsu blushed and closed his zipper. He took one last look at his lover and left the office.
Alone, Yoochun slid to the floor and wept.
Junsu left the Purple Line Club and drove home, unaware of the watchful eyes that followed him from a parked car. The driver dialed a number on his cell phone and waited for his call to go through.
“Well, what is it?”
“Junsu just left the club. What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t do anything. Come back. He can’t know he is being followed.”
The driver sighed and hesitated for a moment.
“There’s something else. I’m pretty sure I saw Mr. Kim’s limo here earlier. He may know that Master Junsu went inside the club.”
The voice on the other line remained calm.
“Thank you for that information. Come home now. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Mr. Kim sat in his office in a large, leather chair. He took a deep puff on his Cuban, blew a smoke ring placing the cigar in an ash tray. He picked up his phone and dialed a number; in his other hand he fumbled a scrap of paper with an address on it. The call was answered in a deep, gruff voice.
“I’m a busy man, this better be good.”
“I have a job for you,” Mr. Kim said without emotion in his voice.
“Is this line still secure?”
“Of course,” Mr. Kim answered.
“What do you need?”
“I have an itch that needs to be scratched. Remember that greasy club owner? He’s a pesky fly and I need you to swat him.”
“I want the usual fee.”
“Done.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
Click.
Mr. Kim hung up the phone and picked up his Cuban. Puffing on his cigar he smiled.
“Goodbye, Yoochun.”
Author: onthethruway01
Pairing: Yoosu
Rating: NC 17
Genre: smut, yaoi, angst, violence, revenge
Summary: Yoochun seeks revenge against Junsu’s adopted father.
“What the Hell are you doing here?”
Junsu’s lower lip trembled as Yoochun yelled at him.
“I told you to lay low. This isn’t a joke Junsu. People could get hurt.”
Junsu flinched as Yoochun continued to lecture him. He wondered if the club owner’s office was sound proof, or if his patrons and employees could hear Yoochun chastising him.
“I wanted to see you.”
Yoochun’s anger turned to something else he couldn’t quite understand. He had been trying to forget Junsu; get him out of his head; but he failed. Yes he loved the younger man; but he was beginning to feel guilty for what he had done. Now it was too late to turn back; his love had been expressed and despite the ridiculousness of it all, Junsu had fallen in love too.
Yoochun stared into Junsu’s big brown eyes; they threatened to weep at any moment.
“Junsu,” he gasped as he wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist.
The kiss was hard and abrupt; Junsu staggering backwards, his body pressed against Yoochun’s desk.
Urgency overcame reason; Yoochun’s arm sweeping the contents of the desk onto the floor. Caught up in a whirlwind of chaos and lust, Yoochun took Junsu hard and fast; both men moaning and grunting like animals in the wild. White knuckles gripped the edges of the wooden desk; slacks pooled at his ankles; Junsu’s body shuddered as his lover thrust deep inside him; skin prickled and flushed with heat; a ripple effect shot through him and he came. Yoochun’s hands gripped his lover’s hips as he bucked forward and spilled; his body arched; the light from an overhead lamp accentuating his long neck and pale skin.
They huddled together on the floor; breathless, Yoochun cradled Junsu in his arms as the younger man wept.
“It’s going to be fine. Everything will be ok.”
Yoochun lit a cigarette and offered a puff to his lover.
Junsu shook his head.
Yoochun laughed as he staggered to his feet. With the cigarette between his teeth he zipped up his pants then outstretched his arm to a still trembling Junsu. The younger man grasped his lover’s hand, Yoochun pulling him into his chest. They kissed again; softly this time; Yoochun’s heart skipping a beat as he tasted the salt of Junsu’s tears.
“Go now,” he whispered softly. Do as I tell you. Don’t call me and for God’s sake don’t come here again. When it’s over, we’ll be together, I promise.”
Junsu nodded his head as he walked to the door.
“And one more thing, Su-ah; zip up your fly.”
Junsu blushed and closed his zipper. He took one last look at his lover and left the office.
Alone, Yoochun slid to the floor and wept.
Junsu left the Purple Line Club and drove home, unaware of the watchful eyes that followed him from a parked car. The driver dialed a number on his cell phone and waited for his call to go through.
“Well, what is it?”
“Junsu just left the club. What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t do anything. Come back. He can’t know he is being followed.”
The driver sighed and hesitated for a moment.
“There’s something else. I’m pretty sure I saw Mr. Kim’s limo here earlier. He may know that Master Junsu went inside the club.”
The voice on the other line remained calm.
“Thank you for that information. Come home now. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Mr. Kim sat in his office in a large, leather chair. He took a deep puff on his Cuban, blew a smoke ring placing the cigar in an ash tray. He picked up his phone and dialed a number; in his other hand he fumbled a scrap of paper with an address on it. The call was answered in a deep, gruff voice.
“I’m a busy man, this better be good.”
“I have a job for you,” Mr. Kim said without emotion in his voice.
“Is this line still secure?”
“Of course,” Mr. Kim answered.
“What do you need?”
“I have an itch that needs to be scratched. Remember that greasy club owner? He’s a pesky fly and I need you to swat him.”
“I want the usual fee.”
“Done.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
Click.
Mr. Kim hung up the phone and picked up his Cuban. Puffing on his cigar he smiled.
“Goodbye, Yoochun.”