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All skin and no shame

...innocence is just an illusion...

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One Night in Busan [2]
Title: One Night in Busan
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, Fluff, Romance
Important: This is AU but HoMin are TVXQ and JYJ never existed. Basically the only non-AU thing about it. EVERYTHING about this fic is super freaking AU… I just can’t get BLOND BLOND BLOND out of my fucking head. Also, characters may be a little OOC but it’s fiction and AU and just roll with it, ok?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the story. Please don't kill me.

Summary: It was meant to be a one time thing, and it takes Yunho a while to realize that a one time thing for him means exactly that.

AN: What can I say? Blond Jaejoong makes me cray… Also… let’s not talk about how this is now a triple shot ok? Ok?

Yunho heads straight to the guest bathroom on the lower floor of his duplex penthouse, the squirming bundle in his arms not ceasing his movements, eyes shooting fire though he doesn’t say a word. The chattering of his teeth has all but gone in the warm apartment, but it doesn’t stop Yunho from cradling him close, telling himself it’s because he’s just a kid.


A tidal wave of guilt hits him, and he withstands the onslaught as he perches the blond on the bathroom counter. It helps to avoid the younger man’s piercing gaze as he goes about filling the tub, testing the temperature of the water coming from the faucet before he looks for the bottle of bubbles to augment the bath as the memory of an enchanting angel with sultry eyes and a swollen pout hits him, almost sending him to his knees.

He remembers Jaejoong at the other end of the large double spa bath in the hotel room, his back underneath the fountain of water filling the tub as he moans happily at the contact of warm water against his skin.

”Is the water really that satisfying?”

Jaejoong looks up coyly from under his eyelashes, smirking slightly as he moves, ignoring the twinge in his ass from their indulgence in the hallway as he crawls slowly towards Yunho. He sways, like a jungle feline, all proud and haughty and so beautiful with a sinewy body that is still soft in all the right places. The way Yunho looks at him makes him feel like a god. There is wonder in his eyes, and amusement, indulgence and a hint of mystery in the way Yunho looks at him.

“Not even close,” he breathes out, hands rubbing Yunho’s upper thighs, squeezing lightly as his thumbs flick underneath the man’s balls, drawing a heartfelt groan from Yunho.

“You are the devil.”

“I thought I was an angel?”

“Do angels move the way you do?”

Jaejoong shrugs, smiling as he crawls further up, ignoring the burgeoning cock between them and his own arousal as he lifts himself out of the water to sit astride the older man’s lap. He leans forward, pressing his mouth against Yunho’s parted lips.

“This angel does, but only for you.”

Yunho stares stupidly at the bottle in his hand as the memory slowly fades away. He is glad it ends where it does because if he remembers anything more, he has no idea what he’ll do. His cock is already pressing against the seam of his pants, wanting release, filling rapidly as he carries Jaejoong bridal style through his home.


Yunho frowns at the bottle. He hates the smell of the stuff.

His eyes turn to the shelf of bath products, placed there by BoA no doubt since Yunho isn’t the type to make sure every bathroom is furnished with expensive cleansing accoutrements. Before he can find another bottle though, a flash of blond catches his attention, and he has to swallow his surprise when a very naked teenager climbs into the bathtub.

The moan that escapes his lips as he sinks into the warm water is not unlike the one he remembers from that night, and the words fall from Yunho’s lips before he can stop them.

“Is the water really that satisfying?”

Jaejoong’s eyes open as he gazes up Yunho’s torso to his troubled handsome face.

He says nothing, doe eyes flashing at the shared memory, and he just stares till Yunho looks away.

“I’ll…I’ll just leave you to it then.” Yunho mumbles, stepping back and stumbling over Jaejoong’s sodden clothes that he’d left on the floor. He bends over to pick them up, movements clumsy as he backs away, eyes on anything but the lithe form in the bathtub. There are no bubbles or jets to obscure his vision, and it takes a fucking load of willpower for Yunho not to gaze at anything but that heartbreakingly beautiful face with the fiery doe eyes that have yet to exact their punishment on him. He feels like he’s getting off fucking lightly as he leaves the bathroom with his hands full of wet clothes, heading towards the laundry, his mind whirling, wondering what Jaejoong’s intentions are.

His thoughts are flitting all over the place, his hands just a teensy weensy bit shaky as he puts the black clothes in the dryer.

Black pants, black singlet, black hoodie. Everything is black.

Well, not everything, as he hits the boy’s boxers.

Or rather, his boxers.

JYH is embroidered in red thread at the hem of the white pair of boxer briefs. It is an old pair, from a time long gone when he and Changmin used to live together.

Yunho stares at it for a few long seconds before he balls up the underwear in his hand, squeezing it so tight water actually drips from his fist, as he stares into the dark recesses of his dryer. The urge to bring those boxers to his nose to inhale is strong.

Will he still smell heaven?

He groans, banging his head against the drying, the hollow sound from the contact echoing and reverberating as he keeps doing it.

Yunho does it till he is able to let go of the sodden pair of underwear, leaving it in the dryer as he slams the door shut, and turning the machine on.

He heads back out to the front door, vaguely remembering seeing a duffle bag of some sort next to Jaejoong.

True enough, a rather beat up bag, filled to the brim is still sitting by the door, looking sad and forlorn. The leather on it is cracked from wear, and some places are so faded and threadbare Yunho can almost make out what lies underneath. Gone is the hope that Jaejoong is only here for the afternoon.

The bag weighs far more than it looks, and Yunho wonders how the slim teenager lugged it all the way from Busan.

Better question yet, how the hell did he get to Seoul from Busan?

And the best question? How did he find Yunho?

He takes the stairs two at a time, the heavy duffle slung across his shoulders as he heads to his bedroom. He is already in it, dropping the bag just inside the door to his walk-in closet when he looks up and sees the flowing formal black dress hanging from the clothes rack in the middle of the large closet.

Yunho freezes, staring at the dress that in his mind, looks completely out of place in his abode, notwithstanding the fact that BoA left the dress there over a fortnight ago when they returned from some event or other. Yunho remembers helping her unzip the dress, himself changing out of his tuxedo, not even bothering to look her way as she pulls on a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

She’d pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, asking that he send the dress to the dry cleaners before she’d left in a cloud of perfume, at odds with her plain outfit.

He hasn’t seen her since.

His mind is a jumble, unable to hold onto a single train of thought as his head fights with his heart. The black dress stares mockingly at him, reminding him of this other person in his life that he is supposedly bound to. The war goes on and Yunho strides purposefully into the closet, yanking the offending dress from the rack and putting it away in some random corner of the closet. He doesn’t really care if it’s crumpled or ruined or whatever. He just wants it out of his sight because he cannot escape the nagging feeling that he’s cheating on Jaejoong by having it there.

It makes no fucking sense, but there you have it.

He exhales loudly, carding his hand agitatedly through his hair as he stares at himself in the mirror lining one side of the closet. There is a huge damp patch on the front of his shirt, the material so soaked he can see his nipples.

They are erect, and straining against the material of his shirt, and he frowns, unbuttoning himself and shrugging out of the thin shirt. He’d left his jacket in the TVXQ van, but that doesn’t matter.

His hands move to the waistband of his pants, hand lingering on the curve of his crotch, for Yunho is still painfully hard.

He knows what he will find when he strips, for it is the same problem he’s had for the last week or so.

The sound of his zip being lowered seems overly loud in the room, and he doesn’t look away from the mirror as his pants drop, exposing himself and his inability to control his libido to his eyes. The damp patch of precum is evident, as is the thick length of his cock straining against the pair of light blue briefs.

Yunho fucking hates wearing briefs, but boxers allow too much movement, and he’s gotten some interesting side-eyes already from his back up dancers that he has taken to wearing uncomfortable underwear.

Even as he watches, the damp patch seems to grow bigger, and he flexes just for the hell of it. The feel of his cock pushing against the tight underwear is his undoing though, his hand moving before his brain catches up and before he knows it, he is standing in the middle of his closet, legs braced apart with his cock in his hand. Yunho is not a voyeur by any stretch of the imagination, nor does he get off by staring at himself, but as he looks at his reflection, he is suddenly transported to a time not too long ago.

The memories flood in like the tide rushing in, inexorable and absolute.

He remembers the blond head bobbing over his lap, both his hands in those lush locks as the man swallows him down. It takes a few goes, and he isn’t able to go all the way to the hilt despite his lack of a gag reflex, but he takes as much as he can, sucking and nipping lightly, purposefully and sometimes just clumsily, but both ways work for Yunho.

He remembers the coy look the boy sends over an inked shoulder, the black marks on his back such a startling contrast to his blond hair and pale skin that Yunho cannot help but find it beautiful even though it is a well-known fact that he has personally always been averse to tattoos.

The coy look is a prelude to one hell of a fuck as Jaejoong sinks back in his lap, legs splayed wide open, tilting his head back with his mouth against Yunho’s throbbing pulse as he coaxes the man to look at him.

To look at them in the mirror.

And look he does.

Yunho remembers it all, how dirty he felt, yet how perfect it looked the way his cock pumps in and out of Jaejoong’s hot, tight body.

And that pretty pink cock, bouncing with every thrust, the way Jaejoong had whispered no when Yunho had moved an arm around his waist to fist his cock. Jaejoong had left himself in Yunho’s strong hands, allowing the man to hold his weight with his hands on the underside of his ass, thoroughly unashamed as he holds his body up and and even more open, feet planted on the bed as Yunho drives into him.

Over and over.

Harder and faster.

The explosion of curses from him, and the shuddering whimpers from the younger man as Yunho’s red encased cock slides in and out of Jaejoong’s body, the color of the condom such a sharp contrast to his milky white skin, that it looks almost cruel.

Jackknifing up into the angelic man who promises sin with every look, with a mountain of pillows under his head to keep his vision in the mirror of the blond beauty with his head thrown back, Yunho comes far quicker than anticipated.

But this is round four, and he knows what will push the other man over the edge as he sinks his teeth into the back of his neck, where the line of that slim column meets the breadth of his shoulders, and he holds on tight.

His cock is oversensitive despite being wrapped in latex, and his orgasm is milked hard, almost nothing left in him as he continues to pump into the younger man. Only one hand is holding him up now, the other unerringly finding a taut pebbled tip as he pinches, playing and fiddling with the man’s sensitive body, his nipples flushed a dark pink with arousal as he continues to lick and suck and bite at his neck.

Jaejoong’s whimpers are coming in short pants, and he can feel the boy tensing and tensing, and tensing some more, his eyes dropping to his feet in the mirror, watching as the boy’s toes curl around the sheets as he finally comes with a hoarse shout, cum leaking from his bouncing cock. There isn’t much to catch this time, but the view…

The view is breathtaking.

Yunho swears up a storm as he comes hard, almost hunching over in its intensity, a veritable spray of cum decorating the carpet by his feet.

Some droplets hit the mirror, and he stares at himself as he sinks down to his haunches, shuddering and shaking at the vivid memory and the orgasm it pulls from him.

The vision in the mirror from his memory is a million times better than the current vision in the mirror at this very moment, his face red with shame as he curls into himself, rocking on the balls of his feet and wondering what the fuck is he going to do with the angel in his bathroom.

Jaejoong sighs as he leans back in the warm water, staring at the cream tiles, noting how similar they are to the tiles in the hotel bathroom.

It seems like a lifetime ago, but in reality it’s barely been ten days.

Ten days of pining and second guessing himself.

Ten days of worrying and arguing with himself.

Ten days of trying to figure out what to do.

He had left the hotel late that morning, Yunho making him promise he’d come back. He even made Jaejoong write his number on a piece of paper by the bedside table, and in return, Yunho had written his address.

Why he wrote his address? Simple. He’d forgotten his own phone number since he’s had to change it just that week due to sasaengs. Jaejoong knows the man was a little too out of it to put two and two together and how his address in Seoul would be of no use to Jaejoong in Busan.

He’d left because he was late for work. He stocks the shelves and takes inventory at the local supermarket, working the late night shift, finishing at noon.

He also moonlights as an escort.

Not that type of escort.

It’s just a temporary gig that he takes on whenever he has cash-flow problems. His friends look out for him, and all he’s ever had to do is go up to any one of them if any of his clients get too handsy. He never ever goes anywhere secluded, though that particular night, his friends had wandered off to another part of the large grounds of the luxury hotel and the man he’d been with had decided that the hedges were tall enough to try and cop a feel.

Jaejoong didn’t grow up with a face like his without knowing how to defend himself, so the poor schmuck found himself with a bruised jaw, bruised ego, and Jaejoong found himself shit out of luck of any future jobs if the angry phone call he received not five minutes later is anything to go by.

It is just after that phone call when Yunho stumbles into him.

The man had been a little high, not on drugs but on alcohol and life. The poleaxed expression on his face had been comical to say the least as he stared at Jaejoong, struck dumb and just gaping.

His first words had been equally humorous.

”Are you an angel?”

Jaejoong’s escort training kicks in immediately, though he doesn’t mean for it to, but the man has all but taken his breath away as well.

That small handsome face with the serious eyes and the strong chin. The man’s nose is a work of art, his jaw carved out of rock. Diamond rock if there’s such a thing.

By the time Jaejoong realizes he’s fallen, it is far too late to claw his way back to the surface.

The man is intelligent, and funny, and not at all cocky despite his looks. His friend is the total opposite, handsome as hell, but too self-assured with a jaded glint in his eyes that tell Jaejoong he’s seen far too much in his young life. He pegs the man to be in his mid-twenties, with Yunho being a little older. Late twenties.

Yunho is possessive in manipulating his attention, and his friend wanders off not long after they all first met.

The drinks flow continuously at the party, Jaejoong knowing better than to indulge, but he doesn’t stop Yunho from the flutes of champagne he picks up nor does he stop the man from interrupting a random game of tequila chess by the pool. You drink a shot when you lose your piece, and Yunho plays long enough to lose five pieces, much to Jaejoong’s amusement and the original player’s disgust.

It isn’t his place to keep the man from his drink, and Yunho seems to be able to handle it enough. The tequila was his last drink of the night as they both decide to slip off and wander around by themselves.

It is Jaejoong who initiates the first kiss.

The incident with the dog had shaken him more than he wanted to admit at the time, and in an attempt to wipe the worry from Yunho’s brow, he leans up and kisses the man softly in the corner of his mouth, shyly whispering his thanks for protecting him against the mangy dog.

Yunho had drawn in a sharp breath at the contact, rearing back for a second, before he groans and slants his mouth over his properly.

They kiss for seconds.

For minutes.

For a damn long time, on the shadowy path, under the bright moonlight.

And then they continue walking and talking, just like before. There is no awkwardness, but there is a charge between them that was ignited by the kiss.

A charge that increases in intensity with every brush of the lips and every caress against bare skin.

Yunho’s hand resting on his upper thigh felt hot enough to Jaejoong for the teenager to imagine his hand print seared into his flesh, marking him as his forever.

They talk, laugh, argue, and kiss. Rewind and repeat for hours.

Sometime along the way, they find a secluded stone bench, and Jaejoong spends the entire time seated astride Yunho, giggling at the man’s rambling attempt at poetry about Jaejoong’s eyes, trying to blow smoke rings as they share a cigarette or three. They talk about anything and everything, every other sentence punctuated by a kiss or several.

The pressure low in his belly and the heaviness in his groin grows too hard to ignore.

Much too hard.

And he knows he isn’t the only one suffering for Yunho has been rock hard underneath him for pretty much the entire time they were on that bench, and he reckons they’d been sitting there a good hour.

Jaejoong sighs at his memories, slipping lower into the warm bath, dunking his head as he stares up at the bathroom ceiling through a shallow layer of water. His eyes smart a little, but it is a good distraction as he tries to figure out everything that led him to this very moment.

He isn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, because yet again with a face like his, there is no way he’d escape any type of relationship long past puberty.

Three boyfriends, all of them much much older and all three probably could be done for statutory rape if Jaejoong had a mind to report them. But then again, he knows the authorities will just blame his face, saying he was asking for it.

His boyfriends weren’t bad, they took care of him. Treating him like a pet, a toy, and in return he polished their dicks. It isn’t a bad arrangement, and he knows they all care about him on some level. He on the other hand isn’t sure what he ever felt for any of them for the feeling swirling through his belly as Yunho’s hand splays the small of his back, making him feel secure, vastly outweighs the collective feelings he had for the three of them and then some.

Yunho talks to him like an equal. He doesn’t treat him like he’s stupid or young or in any way inferior. He waxes lyrical about his eyes, and the way he laughs, voice laced with humor as he teases him about making his heart speed up and he doesn’t know why.

He had still been contemplating whether to take it further with Yunho when the man had randomly popped the question.

”Will you marry me?”

“What?” Jaejoong pulls away in surprise. “How did we go from stars to marriage?”

Yunho shrugs. “It makes sense to me.”

“How does it make sense to you?” Jaejoong is having trouble breathing. Trouble swallowing. His automatic reaction was to say yes, but a tiny voice inside him says it’s way too good to be true. It has to be.

“You’re brighter than all the stars in the galaxy, and I think I love you, so it makes sense.”

“You think you love me?” Jaejoong squeaks, coughing to try and hide it. “It’s my face isn’t it? You’re in love with my face.”

To Jaejoong’s bemusement, Yunho draws back, squinting in the moonlight as he stares at his face. His eyes roam slowly over every salient point on his face, as if trying to commit his features to memory. The scrutiny is so close and a little unsettling that Jaejoong chuckles nervously, shifting in the older man’s lap, still fully aware of the hardness nudging against him.

“I can barely see your face, Jae. For all I know you’ve got two noses and a third eye.”

Jaejoong chuckles ruefully as he shakes his head, heart feeling lightened somehow. “You’d still marry me then?”

“I can’t argue with fate.”


Yunho leans forward, nuzzling against Jaejoong’s mouth as he whispers against those soft lips. “You’re my fate. I can feel it in my bones. We were meant to be.”

Jaejoong lifts his head out of the water, gasping and coughing as he sucks in sweet, sweet, air.

He blinks in the empty bathroom, sighing when he realizes Yunho hasn’t returned.

Water sloshes over as he struggles into an upright position, eyes darting around the room to take a good look at the place.

The bathroom really does remind him of the hotel bathroom.

His cock perks up at the memories flashing across his mind, and Jaejoong fists himself out of habit as he lays back against the end of the tub once again.

Yunho’s hard slick body underneath him as he rides him, sending water every which way, half emptying the tub in his exuberance. The way the man’s cock fills his body so thoroughly, beyond anything he’s ever experienced before. Already loose and a little open from their earlier coupling in the hallway, lube on the condom had been more than enough to get him going. The way Yunho’s head had dropped back, banging against the hard tiles, groaning, explicit words spilling from his lips about how hot and tight Jaejoong’s pretty pink hole is, and how he’d love to lick his cum from his dripping hole had been more than enough for Jaejoong to give Yunho the ride of his life.

For a straight boy, the man sure knew how to talk bent.

Jaejoong’s legs brace against the walls of the bathtub as he clenches his eyes, focusing hard on the memories of that night. The warm water sloshing about them and Yunho’s words meant only for him.

”You’re my husband now, we can do this every night. So fucking hot and tight, Jae. How the hell are you so tight, god help me I don’t ever want to leave your body. How much more can you take, baby? Can you take more. More more more…”

It is the way Yunho looks at him in his memories that sends him over the edge.

The man doesn’t look at him like he’s a pet or a toy or a possession to be paraded around and to be proud of, to be taken to task and in hand if he puts a toe out of line.

He looks at him with reverence, worship in his eyes, and wonder at having him even there.


Jaejoong bites his lip, coming hard as tears spring into his eyes.

Yunho has cleaned up the mess, showered, packed up as many of BoA’s clothes as he can find, and left a message for the woman on her phone, knowing she’s probably asleep due to the time difference but not really able to wait any longer.

He feels like a cad.

BoA doesn’t deserve this, and neither does Jaejoong.

Yunho is an asshole of the worst kind, and for the first time in his life, he honestly has no idea what tomorrow is going to bring him.

The company might kill him.

BoA might castrate him.

Jae might leave him.

“No.” Yunho shakes his head as his eyes widen, suddenly realizing how much time has elapsed.

He rushes out of the bedroom, practically leaping down the curved stairs, taking the steps two and three at a time, only to come to a dead halt at the bottom.

A screeching halt more like it.

He literally comes to such a sudden stop it seems as if he’s run straight into an invisible brick wall.

“There were no towels, and you took my clothes. I waited awhile but you never came back. I’m sorry I’m dripping over everything.”

Yunho cannot look away.

Jaejoong is standing, dripping wet, and yet somehow there is a glow emanating from the teenager. One hand is cupped modestly around his sex, and the other other arm across his chest, eyes turned downward looking somewhat bashful.

As bashful as one can be standing stark naked and dripping wet in the middle of the living room.

Yunho knows every inch of the glowing male, hell, he tasted every fucking inch.





From his toes, right up the backs of his thighs, to that pretty clenching hole, and up his torso, along his ribs and under his arms, down to his fingertips and then back up again to lavish attention over his chest and belly, and down to that sweet pink cock that tastes like heaven.

Yunho can feel himself growing hard, and as his eyes drop down the length of that wet pale body, he notes that Jaejoong’s hand can no longer hide him.

Well, well.

Before he can move or even say a word, there is a scrabbling at his door, and the click of locking mechanism being unlocked.

Yunho has never moved quicker, standing in front of Jaejoong and pushing him back against the wall as the door opens. He hears familiar male voices and he clenches his jaw, vowing to change the goddamn code for his door as the obnoxious laughter of Kim Heechul cascades down the hallway towards them. He can feel Jaejoong’s breath catching as he moulds himself against his back, his wet body dampening the wife beater and thin cotton pajama bottoms that Yunho has on. The boy’s half hard cock is pressed against his butt cheek, and Yunho will swear on all that’s holy that the imprint of that cock is probably on his ass.

The heat from it sears him, and it takes every single ounce of concentration and willpower to bleed his own cock. His pajama bottoms leave practically nothing to the imagination, and he doesn’t need Heechul checking him out yet again.

“Hyung, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Changmin’s voice is worried.

“I don’t care. I want to see this so-called beauty who managed to bring U-Know Yunho to his knees. Literally.”

More obnoxious laughter, which comes to a halt when the two man come face to face with the couple.

“My, my, what do we have here? Did we interrupt something? Should we apologize?” Heechul’s voice is dripping with insincerity, his eyes predatory as he looks past Yunho’s face to try and get a good look of the slim boy trying to hide behind the much broader man. “Come on, my pretty. Come out, come out, so Heenim can see you.”

“Leave, hyung. Don’t make me throw you out, please. I’m not in a very good mood right now.”

“Hyung, come on, let’s go.” Changmin’s snags the crook of Heechul’s elbow, but the older man shrugs him off easily, taking another step forward.

Heechul’s gaze drops the length of Yunho’s body, lingering pointedly in his crotch, before his amused eyes meet serious almond eyes.

He takes another step forward, causing Yunho to wrap an arm behind him, hand splayed across Jaejoong’s ass as the boy squeaks and fists the back of of his wife beater as he tries to burrow his way into his body.

Jaejoong buries his face in the back of Yunho’s neck, wondering how the hell he managed to get himself in this predicament. He hadn’t thought too much about being naked since Yunho knows him carnally. He’d been a little shy about it, but that nagging voice in him reminds him of who he is.

Jung Jaejoong.

Jung Yunho’s husband.

They had a choice of taking each other’s names, and Jaejoong had offered quickly before Yunho could tell him he wasn’t going to change his name for him.

He peeks around the man’s head, swallowing his urge to make some sort of whimpering sound as he is faced with Kim Heechul and Max Changmin.

Jaejoong only found out about who Yunho really was an entire week after that damn afternoon when he’d returned to the hotel only to find that Yunho had checked out.

He has never been into kpop. He’s more a j-rock type of kid, and so TVXQ and even Tohoshinki have never registered on his radar, nor have they interested him.

The man had told him he’d only be leaving Busan after dinner, but no, three in the afternoon and Yunho is already gone.

The sad thing about the whole thing is that Jaejoong hadn’t been surprised to find the hotel room empty. The pang in his heart and the ache in his ass are the only things that make him certain that he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing up.

That and the expensive Cartier ring Yunho had given him, and all the marriage documents certifying the union legal. To the teenager, all it would have taken was a lighter, and their union would be ash.

He’d returned to his tiny studio apartment, wondering what the hell he’s going to do after having lost his job at the supermarket for not turning up for his shift. He has a reasonable amount of savings, having learned early on that being frugal is the only way to be when you’re alone in the world. He has never known his parents, running away from the orphanage he was left at since age three when he was twelve. He is not a frivolous teenager despite the way he looks and dresses. He is adept at being a chameleon, for being adaptable is the only way to survive.

His savings won’t last the month though, and so he starts looking for a new job.

Jaejoong had thought he’d forget Yunho easily.

But the tall, gorgeous man isn’t the forgettable kind.

His dreams are filled with tender words, and hoarse moans, telling him how beautiful he is, and how Yunho can’t imagine a single day without him.


Or are they?

Jaejoong doesn’t know anymore. All he knows is that Yunho left without a word, and Jaejoong isn’t the needy clingy type. He is a man and he has his pride. If Yunho doesn’t want him, then Jaejoong isn’t going to go looking for him.

And yet each night he cries himself to sleep. Not the wailing lamenting kind, but the quiet tear or two slipping out as he holds the ring around his finger and stares at the official papers he’s been trying to burn for days.

Jung Jaejoong.

Even his name mocks him.

On day seven, he gets a job offer, and with it a revelation that knocks his world off its axis.

He’d been hired as a temporary usher. Permanent jobs are few and far between in Busan in that time of the year, and Jaejoong hadn’t bothered with them, knowing full well it’s a waste of his time to even apply for them. Instead, he applies for the myriad of adhoc jobs that crop up due to one festival or other. There are a slew of those, and he’d applied for them all.

The first offer had been as an usher for kpop super group TVXQ’s fan meet to celebrate their upcoming tenth anniversary. Jaejoong had been given a security pass, a uniform and an information pack. The woman who hired him had given him a double take, before smiling and remarking that the fangirls might spend just as much time staring at him as they will staring at TVXQ, and she wants him stage side to hopefully distract them. The last time they’d held a fan meet in Busan, there had been a scuffle by the stage which resulted in several bruised faces and clumps of hair loss from different heads. This time, the woman remarks, she hopes they’ll be too busy staring at Jaejoong.

The fan meet pays surprising well compared to the other festivals, and Jaejoong is more than thankful for securing the gig. He’d gone home happy for the first time since leaving Yunho’s hotel room, and that memory alone manages to sour his mood. He’d shaken it off though as he upends his information pack in the middle of his single bed to rummage through it.

The first thing he sees?

Yunho staring at him.

His brain takes a real fucking long time to compute as he wonders why the hell a picture of Yunho doing in the middle of his bed. He stared and stared, and nothing made sense till he flipped the photo over and he sees a different man on the other side.

Max Changmin.

The resulting epiphany hits him like a lightning bolt and Jaejoong’s shock is indescribable.

He is married to one half of TVXQ, biggest fucking kpop duo/group in the country.

Forget South Korea, they are also really fucking big in Japan too, having just completed a US$100 million tour there according to his information pack.

Numbers that he cannot even comprehend let alone understand.

He stares bewildered at the photo of Max Changmin, flipping it over again to stare at the sternly beautiful countenance of his husband.

The man whose crooked smile made him shiver with a need to please him.

The man whose eyes worshipped every move he made.

The man whose lips professed to love him.

Jaejoong understands then. The implications of the marriage, of everything. He cannot hold Yunho to it for the man has responsibilities far beyond his own understanding. He knows nothing of life beyond Busan, never imagining he’d ever leave.

But that moment, as he gazes into the dark almond eyes of the man who kissed every square inch of his body, those memories tormenting him for in between he remembers Yunho’s words of love, Jaejoong had finally let his feelings go.

He wept.

Weeping for a love lost, for he had finally decided never to search Yunho out.

He’d resigned from the ushering gig the following morning, eyes so visibly swollen from his crying all night long, the woman had actually asked if he was alright, offering him a shot of soju to calm his nerves. She’d also tried to offer him another similar job for another kpop group, but Jaejoong doesn’t want to have anything to do with kpop. He doesn’t even want a slim chance of bumping into Yunho because it would hurt too fucking much.

Strangely enough, because of this need to avoid the man, Jaejoong had taken to finding out about their schedule, and when their appearances are. He doesn’t have a television, but he does have a radio, and the nice lady who own the corner convenience store always lets him come by and watch k-dramas when he’s bored.

Seeing Yunho is something he cannot deal with though, so when he gets news of the radio show, he’d jumped at the opportunity.

He’d deemed it closure of some sort.

At least, that was how it was meant to work in his mind. He had his lighter, a metal bowl, and the marriage documents all ready on hand for him to burn to ash once the interview ends.

Instead of getting closure though, Jaejoong gets angry.

The radio interview reveals more about Yunho than he knew.

For one, Yunho is apparently in some fucking relationship with some female idol. That had thrown Jaejoong into a serious tailspin, for he cannot reconcile the man he met, with a lying cheating bastard.

As the interview continued, he still couldn’t reconcile the man he met with the image he is projecting.

Jaejoong is confused, and he is in pain.

He hurts for Yunho, because he knows something went wrong somewhere, and he has a feeling that the Yunho he met is the real Yunho.

Of course, all lovestruck teenagers will probably think that.

But Jaejoong isn’t just any lovestruck teenager.

He is Jung Yunho’s husband.

Calling into the radio station had been an impulsive move. He never expected to get through, but the phone rings on the first try, and he is screened quickly, and immediately allowed through and put on hold.


Isn’t that what Yunho said so seriously that fateful night in Busan?

”We were meant to be.”

Jaejoong is vaguely aware of a loud argument going on. He leans back, only to find Yunho’s hand on his ass tightening as the man turns his head, whispering quietly.

“Are you alright? I think you spaced out.” He accompanies his words with a gentle caress, his fingers curving proprietarily around Jaejoong’s bare ass, stroking comfortingly.

Jaejoong finds his first real smile since he arrived. He steps forward, propping his chin on Yunho’s shoulder as he stares down Kim Heechul who actually stops talking mid-sentence, his surprise evident at finally seeing his face.

To both Yunho and Changmin’s amusement, Jaejoong’s arms snake around Yunho’s torso as he tilts his head, pressing his mouth against the curve of Yunho’s ear.

“Take off your wife beater. It’s long enough to cover my modesty till you can find something else for me to wear instead of you.”

The teenager’s husky whisper is heard by the two intruders who exchange looks.

Yunho clears his throat, suddenly finding everything a little constricted and tight. He will gladly divest himself of his top, but Jaejoong’s words about wearing him is sending him on a merry trip up the wrong path for that moment.

And it shows in his pants.

“Hyung…seriously?” Changmin groans as he looks away, shaking out his hair as he tries to once again tug at Heechul’s arm.

The man isn’t to be moved though, and Changmin cannot help but watch as Yunho divests himself of his singlet to give to Jaejoong. Nothing of the very slim boy can be seen behind the broad frame of the leader of TVXQ, and Changmin once again looks away when Yunho sends a baleful glare his way.

All the glares in the world aren’t going to distract Heechul though, who watches everything with a close eye.

Jaejoong finally moves from behind Yunho, heading towards the kitchen in his barefoot glory, long slim legs exposed for the world to see, the wife beater ending mid thigh, barely hiding his modesty, but it is enough for Yunho not to want to bundle the boy up in a blanket or two.

“No greeting for me, squirt? A little rude, aren’t you?”

Jaejoong freezes, turning around as he smiles at the pretty man staring curiously at him. There is no malice in the man’s voice, merely matter of fact. He takes in Yunho’s position, the man having moved after him towards the kitchen, and then back at Changmin and Heechul who haven’t moved an inch.

He smirks, surprising Heechul who actually takes a step back at the wicked smile that has transformed the angelic teenager’s features from pure and innocent to sultry in a split second.

Jaejoong walks forward quickly, a hand on Yunho’s arm as he walks past him to stay the man.

His intentions are very clear to one an all as he sinks into a deep ninety degree bow, ass facing Yunho who actually chokes on nothing, the view he is given sending lancing flames of desire straight to his cock.


Jaejoong is as bare as Yunho remembers him, and so very fair and pink, and why in the goddamn hell is the boy still bent over?

“Jae…” Yunho manages to rasp out.

The teenager straightens, winking at Heechul who finally catches on, causing the man to start howling with laughter. He twists, sending a flashing grin over his shoulder, eyes dancing wickedly at the tormented expression on Yunho’s face. A quick gaze down his body reveals mission accomplished, and Jaejoong turns around, whistling a familiar tune as he heads to the kitchen once again, patting Yunho comfortingly and playfully on the ass as he walks past.

Catch Me.

AN1: Champagne and tequila kids. Bad combination. I can vouch for it though admittedly, it was a fucking long time ago. I woke up in the dorms on an all-male floor, had no fucking idea how I got there, and was thankfully clothed though I think it had to do with the guy whose bed I woke up in haha! I still can’t remember what happened that night but my tolerance is probably much lower than a man three times my size :P

AN2: Also, totally wrote most of this while on the plane and exhausted beyond belief. I was hallucinating! And then wrote the rest after two hours of sleep and arguing with my NZ boss over FaceTime… Guh… It’s fun being an adult, yessirree… #sarcastic

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i'm not surprised to see that it has changed in to triple shot *or maybe more later :P*

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