Title: Oath of Isolation
Rating: NC-17, for sex, alcohol, language, and character death.
Pairing: JaeHo, extremely short Yoosu


A/N: For lilxinyue! Merry Christmas! (Sorry if this is a little late). I tried to smush all the genres you gave me together, I hope I didn't fail too hard. If you don't like it please tell me so I can write you another one ;D

 

It’s just another night in the club. JaeJoong has had one too many colorful drinks and yet it’s not enough. The crowd sways around him, like waves in the ocean, and as he makes his way to the bar he singles out his target like a lioness does her prey.

A couple suave words and shots of tequila on him is enough to get the pretty-boy—Yunho, Jung Yunho—to dance.

The other man is rather good at what he does, body twisting and undulating, showing off flexibility in obscene ways that leave JaeJoong wanting more.

It’s just another fuck. Yunho is tight and willing, alcohol a mental lubricant that numbs and enhances all at the same time and it is complete bliss.

JaeJoong admits to being arrogant, a little cocky even, when it comes to sex. He knows things that make his partners writhe in that place of ecstasy, right between pleasure and pain. But Yunho is just as good, he notes, as another moan slips through his lips.

They explode in each others arms (the way long time lovers do after a night of making love, but they aren’t lovers, and this is just a quick fuck), and JaeJoong could swear he saw blotches of white behind his eye lids.

-

When JaeJoong wakes to sunshine and a headache he knows something is wrong almost immediately. Someone—Yunho, he remembers—stirs awake next to him, the other body tensing into his side.

“Fuck,” Yunho groans, rubbing at his temples. JaeJoong gazes at him contemplatively, eyeing the curve of his neck; the hard lines of his chest and abdomen, and can see why he was so tired after their fuck-session.

“G’morning to you too, love,” JaeJoong says smoothly, his words icy hot.

Yunho promptly ignores him, opting instead to bury himself into the covers, taking up residence in JaeJoong’s bed.

JaeJoong tries to ignore how cute that whole little scene seemed to him. He pushes the thought away, reluctant to entertain it.

Just a quick fuck, JaeJoong reminds himself, as he lets the other man sleep and soon joins him.

They wake up again in each other’s arms, JaeJoong decides to overlook it all, fuck the world and the path he had chosen, the oath of isolation that had once seemed so noble but now hung over him like Death’s halberd.

He was going to hell anyway, might as well drag someone down with him to keep him company.

JaeJoong dresses Yunho in his own clothes (he looks good in Armani, he thinks wryly) and takes him to dinner.

Yunho has good taste in food, whether he orders the most expensive plate on the menu deliberately or not, with a hesitation that makes JaeJoong guess he wasn’t raised with money. Or maybe it was just the menu, and it’s being in complete French.

“I’m not very good at this,” JaeJoong admits, as he watches Yunho take a sip of Chateau Lafite, adorning a halfhearted mask of indifference towards the exquisite wine and its foreign taste on his tongue.

“At what?” The waitress brings their escargot and smiles sheepishly at them both; JaeJoong doesn’t blame the poor girl, considering that they were the only clientele under fifty.

“The whole dating thing,” JaeJoong says sharply, taking the exaggerated assumption in hopes of flustering the too-chill looking man in front of him. And it’s true, to the best of his knowledge, JaeJoong had never been on a real date in his life.

It was much easier to go to a bar and get drunk and have a quick fuck—with the exception of Jung Yunho, who, beyond sexy body and chiseled face, had managed to implausibly capture JaeJoong’s full attention.

Yunho takes a cautious bite, chewing slowly and deciding that he likes it, but not enough to ask what it was. “Practice makes perfect,” He says idly with a smile, picking at another piece before eating it too.

JaeJoong is speechless for the first time in a long time, and he hopes Yunho doesn’t notice as he hastily collects himself.

-

They leave the French ristorante walking close enough together to attract attention and JaeJoong finds that he really doesn’t give a damn.

JaeJoong’s silver Koenigsegg CCR shimmers under the parking lot’s lights. He almost hadn’t brought it, thinking that going on a date with another man would draw enough notice, but drove it anyway. The look on Yunho’s face was worth it in the end.

“Kim,” JaeJoong glances towards his name, counting seven people in the previously empty parking lot.

“Park,” He pushed on the small of Yunho’s back, hoping the other would get the hint. “Lovely evening,”

The other man scoffs, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. “It would have been,” He takes a long drag, exhaling the smoke and letting it twirl around his face. “if I had gotten my package.”

JaeJoong unlocks the doors with his remote, gazing wearily at Yunho, who snapped out of the daze he had unknowingly fallen into.

“I think you’re mistaken Park, you should know that we don’t handle the packages directly,” Yunho feels reluctance pulling at him, seven versus one aren’t that good of odds, and even if he were to step in— “It’s Shim and his men who deliver, we just provide sources and communication.”

Park Yoochun, a business man in the industry of trafficking everything from drugs to people, is an intimidating persona. He is known for his short temper and for finishing things he has started.

JaeJoong dislikes working with him because to put it frankly, the other man was a dumb shit.

A dumb shit with a lot of money, JaeJoong muses to himself as he evaluates his situation coolly. Two of Yoochun’s six body guards or as JaeJoong likes to call them, dumb shit disciples, looked rather big. He spotted a couple of them fingering metal embodiments of a non-existent protection.

His own was heavy at his belt.

“Well then,” Yoochun’s cigarette falls to his feet, and he extinguishes it with the sole of his shoe. “I’d like to send a message.”

At his command his posse advances, but JaeJoong is faster. He draws his glock 32 in a blurred move, putting a bullet in three of the men closest to him before the rest could even react.

“Fuck,” He barely hears Yunho’s choked gasp before he is smashing the hilt of his gun into one of the men’s faces and shooting another through the chest.

The sixth man is faster than the rest, sneaking a rather hard punch to JaeJoong’s side and knocking the breath out of him. JaeJoong recovers just barely fast enough, kicking the man in the gut and shooting him in the head before the man could register what was happening.

“Now, Park, I think we could come to a friendly—” JaeJoong’s words die on his tongue when a metal blade pierces his shoulder. He slumps on his right leg, his uninjured arm immediately coming up to grasp at his wound.

“Fuck you Kim,” Is Yoochun’s spat reply as the man takes off, running through the parking lot and onto the street where a vehicle retrieves him.

Everything is distorted, eternities of chaos in each second, until a gunshot resounds through the silence of what is now a battlefield.

JaeJoong whirls around, hearing Yunho’s gasp before he saw the other man react, doubling in on himself and letting the gun he hand been holding fall to the ground.

The man with the broken nose and the bloodied knife is staring up at Yunho, his eyes dead and full of pointed accusations.

JaeJoong limps to Yunho, pulls the other man up and stuffs him in the car. There is no time for reassuring, only escape.

The drive falls eerily silent after Yunho gives JaeJoong directions to his place. Seoul’s night scene blurs by in fluorescent smudges and before they know it they are pulling up to a small apartment complex.

“I,” JaeJoong starts, taking an easy breath, “I don’t know if I’ll see you again, I—”

“Excuse me?” Yunho seethes, the hard resolve he had tried to cling to finally crumbling.

JaeJoong stops short, unsure. He tries again, “well, I don’t know if you—”

“I heard what you said.” Yunho pulls his coat closer to his body. “Now shut the hell up and get out.”

JaeJoong watches, dumbfounded, as Yunho gets out of the car, hissing an “eighth floor, 21A,” before shutting the door behind him.

-

It only takes one knock at the door for Yunho to answer. The younger boy is dressed down to a pair of black sweats and JaeJoong tries not to stare.

“Come in,” Yunho ushers the other man into his small flat, making him sit on the living room couch, despite JaeJoong’s bleeding, and commands him to undress.

JaeJoong doesn’t hesitate, stripping his coat and then his bloodied white, button up shirt. Yunho comes back with what looks to be a bottle of Peroxide and a couple bandages.

“I have to clean it,” Yunho begins, kneeling in front of JaeJoong with a hesitant smile, “it might hurt,” Yunho doesn’t meet his gaze, concentrating rather hard on wetting a piece of cloth with the Peroxide.

JaeJoong holds back a snort, even as he feels the sting of the liquid seeping into his severed flesh. The thin concoction bubbles beneath his skin and he fights the urge to pull back as Yunho presses a soft cloth to it.

Yunho makes quick work of the injury, cleaning then wrapping it gingerly, and his hands are moving fast because he hopes that if he concentrates hard enough on JaeJoong, he won’t feel the life of an unknown man slip from his fingers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” JaeJoong tries to keep his breathing steady, adrenaline still pumping through his body. “what happened?”

Yunho finishes up, knotting the bandage tightly to keep it closed. “Not really,” He heaves a sigh. “I think… I’m better off not knowing—”

His body stiffens when JaeJoong pulls him closer, crushing their bodies together in what should be an awkward embrace but instead proves to be comforting and warm and Yunho hopes that JaeJoong will never let go.

“It has been a long day,” JaeJoong breathes against the other’s skin, making Yunho melt against him. “I should get going. I’m sorry and… thank you.”

Yunho is too stunned by everything. It is all happening too fast, this whirlwind of emotion towards someone he had just met barely twenty-four hours ago. He felt like a teenager, so in love at first sight that he would do anything.

Including cold blooded murder.

Yunho shudders, whether from cold now that JaeJoong is half way to the door or from the mere memory of what had occurred under two hours ago, he didn’t want to know.

But it’s just too much, and his shoulders slump as his body is racked with silent sobs that echo loudly in JaeJoong’s ears.

He had killed.

JaeJoong was holding him and before he knew it their lips were locked and JaeJoong was wiping the tears away.

JaeJoong’s hands were gentle as he pulled them together, naked chests clashing and making Yunho feel lightheaded as blood rushed south.

Yunho noted, somewhere deep in the confines of his subconscious, that it was twisted how quickly JaeJoong was able to distract him and half of him wanted to deny the emotions behind it all, while the other half was enjoying the attention too much to fight it.

JaeJoong breaks apart, letting Yunho catch his breath, and lets his lips trail down the hollow of the other man’s throat, reaching his shoulders and nipping softly.

Yunho lets out an uneven gasp as JaeJoong makes his way to his chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and suckling it to hardness. Moans spill from Yunho’s mouth as JaeJoong plants kisses down his abdomen and along his navel, hovering above his sweats.

“J-JaeJoong-ah, please,” JaeJoong smirks against the other’s soft skin before tugging at the black sweats, letting them ease off of Yunho and exposing his hardening length.

“No underwear,” JaeJoong breaths against Yunho’s member, smirking.

With a teasing lick, JaeJoong plants ghosted kisses up and down the shaft, finally giving in to Yunho’s pleads and wrapping his mouth around the whole.

Yunho grasps at the couch cushions, holding on for dear life. JaeJoong is using his tongue, laving at the underside before toying with the tip and it is driving Yunho up a wall.

“Please,” Yunho is panting, fingers now curls in chestnut locks. “In me—want you in me, JaeJoong,”

JaeJoong hums lightly, pulling another strangled moan from Yunho, before pulling off with a wet pop.

“Lube?” JaeJoong asks against the skin of Yunho’s shoulder. Yunho rolls his hips up, impatient for friction.

“Fuck it,” Yunho growls, too ready, too needy.

“No,” JaeJoong tries reasoning, a bubble of something—what, concern?—threatening to burst in his chest.

Yunho gives a defeated groan as JaeJoong’s fingers wrap around his cock and give it a gentle squeeze. He grumbles a quick “bedroom” and JaeJoong laughs, pulling Yunho up with him.

They stumble into the bedroom, lip locked and groping at each other’s bodies. Yunho pushes JaeJoong onto the bed, deciding it was about damn time the other man were as naked as he was.

“Someone is overdressed for the occasion,” JaeJoong chuckles, relishing in the feel of Yunho’s hands on his bare chest.

Yunho kisses down the expanse of JaeJoong’s upper torso, his fingers finding JaeJoong’s belt buckle and removing it before pulling his pants down.

He mouths JaeJoong’s erection through his boxers until a wet spot is clear at his front. He then pulls them down too, releasing JaeJoong from his confines.

Yunho takes the length in his hands, ready to take it into his mouth when JaeJoong pulls him back up, capturing his lips instead.

It doesn’t take much strength to flip their positions; JaeJoong ignores the sharp stab of pain in his limb and kisses Yunho again, long and slow.

It’s different, he thinks, as his tongue dances with Yunho’s. This wasn’t just a quick fuck anymore and JaeJoong wasn’t very familiar with the making of love.

He decided that being gentler was a good way to start. So, he drops butterfly kisses all over Yunho’s face as he reaches to the bedside table and retrieves a small bottle of lube.

His kisses continue down Yunho’s throat, tickling behind his ear and over his Adam’s apple as he lubes up his fingers and circles Yunho’s puckered entrance. The man writhes beneath him at the touch, impatient but tolerant.

One finger is followed by a second, and shortly after by a third, and Yunho is bucking against them, beautiful in his abandon.

“Ready—ah, JaeJoong now,” JaeJoong’s brow furrows at Yunho’s eagerness, he crooks his fingers and it makes Yunho squirm.

“But—”

“Gods Jae, fuck me.” JaeJoong succumbs, withdrawing his fingers and climbing back up to position himself and then thrusts in.

He stalls for a moment, buried to the hilt within Yunho’s tightness, giving the younger man a chance to adjust.

“Move,” Yunho’s breath is hot against JaeJoong’s skin, and the older man obeys, pulling out before pushing back in.

He watches as Yunho’s neck arches, a loud moan thrown at the ceiling as JaeJoong finds a slow, steady rhythm. He finds the younger man gorgeous, exposed and willing, a clear cut sight compared to the blur that was their first night together.

JaeJoong kisses Yunho and pulls their bodies flush against each other. The feel of JaeJoong’s sculpted abdomen rubbing at his cock with each thrust is driving Yunho crazy; he is so close he can taste the euphoria in his mouth.

“Jae—fuck, I—ah,” Yunho explodes between them without being touched, his orgasm catching both of them off guard as he constricts around JaeJoong, pulling the older man with him for the fall.

And oh what a fall, JaeJoong thinks as he reaches the bottom, opening his eyes to see Yunho’s own staring right back at him.

He pulls out gently and collapses next to Yunho, his breaths coming in labored pants.

“Shit,” Yunho states rather intelligently, his only way of expression after what had happened.

“Yeah,” JaeJoong yawns, “me too.”

His body stiffens as the weight of the implication his words held dropped on him. But Yunho doesn’t seem to notice because the younger man is curling into JaeJoong’s side and whispering goodnight into his skin as he drifts off.

JaeJoong wraps his arms around Yunho, deciding that he might as well spend the night, as a feeling of déjà vu engulfs him.

His past words echo in his head as sleep tugs him away and the last coherent thought that passes through his mind is how this is beyond a quick fuck, beyond an outlet for pent-up lust, beyond anything he has felt before.

But what it is exactly, escapes him as he falls into dreams.

-

It was JaeJoong’s idea to come to the park after breakfast. Last month’s incident in the parking lot was so distant, like the waitress’s face or what they had eaten.

Yunho’s fingers felt good, enlaced with his—right, even.

The morning’s sun warms their skin as they follow the path to the east exit. Yunho nudges JaeJoong playfully.

“You’re getting better at it,” He says, a smile in his voice and in his eyes.

“At what?” Yunho shrugs, tilting his chin up and the way the sun’s rays catch on his face makes JaeJoong’s knees go weak.

“At this whole dating thing,” Yunho says playfully, winking as he rushed a goodbye kiss, before hurrying out of the park and to work.

He leaves JaeJoong behind, erratic heart beats and confused thoughts that whisper words he doesn’t quite comprehend.

Love.

-

“Yunho-ah, if you don’t answer, I’m coming over,” JaeJoong speaks into his phone, more to himself than to whoever was listening.

Yunho had gotten out of work over three hours ago; they were supposed to go to the movies tonight.

JaeJoong grumbles to himself as the beep of the phone signals that Yunho’s voice mail was full.

He grabs his keys and coat on the way out, more than eager to see Yunho’s face.

He could drive to Yunho’s apartment with his eyes closed, JaeJoong thinks, rather amused at himself as he turns down Yunho’s road.

Excitement is building in his chest as he parks the car and rushes out. He is buzzed in by the guard, who has come to know him all too well.

The elevator seems dead bent on prolonging the journey upwards to the eighth floor and it seems an eternity before JaeJoong is finally knocking on 21A.

When he gets no answer after the sixth knock, JaeJoong, rather frustrated, gives the knob a rough jerk that startles him when it makes the door swing open.

He steps forward, automatically alarmed as worry drowned him. He retrieves his gun from his belt, its heavy weight a poor reassurance in his hand.

It is unlike the younger man to simply forget to lock the door. Yunho was usually the one fussing over JaeJoong to keep himself safe.

JaeJoong advances down the hall, each step giving him a new burst of anxiousness. Yunho’s bedroom door is wide open, welcoming and foreboding at the same time and JaeJoong enters to find heartbreak.

The bed sheets he had come so used to falling asleep in were stained crimson, the walls adorned with tear drops of blood.

JaeJoong doesn’t hesitate as he rushes to the bed, pulling Yunho’s lifeless body to his own, holding on tight because just maybe if he holds on tight enough he could bring him back.

He stays like that for a while, until limp weight takes a toll on his body and his heart. JaeJoong is beyond tears at this point, filled more with anger than anguish.

As he reads the note carved onto his lover’s chest, just below where his heart should be, JaeJoong is overcome by the yearning of vengeance.

To Shim

From Park

-

“Damn babe, that was amazing,” Yoochun sighs, content against Junsu’s softness.

The younger boy smiles, radiant.

It happens to quickly for anyone to really understand. Junsu has a bullet in his chest before he can even scream and Yoochun can barely react before a matching bullet is embedded in his head.

JaeJoong makes it quick because he thinks that it will hurt less, a quick sting, like a vaccination.

He stands there, overlooking entwined bodies, dead in each other’s embrace. He stands and waits for the feeling of closure he was hoping to find.

But he feels just as empty as he had the day before he met the love of his life.

“This is Kim,” His voice is unchanged, robotic as he answers his mobile.

“Kim, I have a man here, a Choi Minho, asking for you.” JaeJoong runs a hand through his hair, stepping over clothes as he leaves.

“I’ll be right there.”