Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1140457.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DBSK_|_Tohoshinki_|_TVfXQ_|_TVXQ, JYJ_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Kim_Jaejoong/Shim_Changmin
  Character:
      Kim_Jaejoong, Shim_Changmin
  Additional Tags:
      Unhealthy_Relationships, Abuse, Dubious_Consent, Dom/sub_Undertones
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-17 Words: 20524
****** Lacerate ******
by leftfoottrapped_(miikkaa_xx)
Summary
     Jaejoong gives Changmin what he needs; problem is Changmin doesn’t
     even know what he needs.
Notes
     the final instalment in the jaeminho 'verse (that can all be read
     alone, if you wanted) by jenn and I - listed in fic timeline order:
     lacerate (jaejoong/changmin) by yours truly
     shards (changmin/yunho) by jenn
     closer (jaejoong/changmin; yunho/changmin) by jenn
     much thanks to jenn for letting me share headcanons and create this
     for her.
     warnings: underage, dubious consent (borderline non-consensual),
     unhealthy relationships, emotional/physical/sexual abuse, language,
     jaejoong’s pov, one-sided changmin/yunho and jaejoong/yunho, explicit
     sex, including: dom/sub undertones, face-fucking, painplay,
     breathplay, minor bondage, rimming, dirty talk.
     If it isn’t clear, this fic is how a seventeen year old Jaejoong
     seduces and manipulates a fifteen year old Changmin into a sexual
     relationship and the following years of abuse as he uses and breaks
     Changmin, until the lawsuit that separates them.
See the end of the work for more notes
-
 
Jaejoong knows Changmin is special when he hears about the boy before ever
meeting him.
 
It’s in the SM cafeteria, the three of them – him, Junsu, and Yunho – eating
lunch when Junsu pipes up: ‘did you see the new trainees today in the dance
studio?’
 
‘I met the one who clapped,’ replies Yunho, grinning. ‘Think I scared him
though – he was so small, and I was in a hurry to get to the showers.’
 
‘Clapped?’ asks Jaejoong.
 
‘Yeah, I heard it from Hyukjae,’ picks up Junsu, ‘he didn’t even dance at his
audition. Just stood there and clapped and they let him in. If he can’t dance,
I guess that means his voice is good, right?’
 
‘As good as Jaejoong-hyung’s?’
 
Jaejoong props his chin in the palm of his hand and shakes his head at Yunho’s
question. ‘Probably not.’
 
-
 
The name tastes like innocence on Jaejoong’s tongue when they’re finally
introduced. My name is Shim Changmin.
 
Shim, mouths Jaejoong, feels how his lips don’t have to do anything or go
anywhere – a delicate, fragile name stuck between his teeth. Shim Changmin.
 
It matches the boy standing in front of him, his arms carved from thin bird
bones and his voice too soft to be clever. Jaejoong likes Changmin’s too-long
black hair and wide mouth, though his nose and jawline will have to be carved
by the doctors.
 
Still, Jaejoong can see it – the handsome boy little Changminnie was going to
be, if he didn’t break first, of course.
 
‘I’m Kim Jaejoong,’ replies Jaejoong with a smile, and it seems to ease the
boy. The SM staff quiver around them, ready to move once introductions are
done, and launch into a spiel about sample recordings to be done with a
tentative group.
 
Yunho’s been shoved with Yoochun somewhere, and Junsu is in another one, so
Jaejoong gets to keep Changmin here alone with him. Just for a little while.
 
-
 
Changmin sings like a baby bird – his voice a careening falsetto that reaches
upupup where his short stature can’t reach, not even when he stretches his bone
arms above his head like he’s trying to touch the sky.
 
Jaejoong matches him as best as he can, but there’s an undercurrent of
roughness to his voice that the vocal coach can never get rid of, like a plague
creeping up his throat, dragging his notes down.
 
At fourteen, Changmin keeps to himself, stands aside and watches everything
with his wide eyes, drinks it in, his steps skittering across the floor when
his name is called to stand inside the booth with his lyric sheet.
 
Jaejoong dreams of cracking the white eggshell of Changmin’s innocence, dipping
his fingers into the slick insides where the real Changmin is curled up, drag
him out all gasping for breath and clinging tight to Jaejoong’s arms, sweet
voice keening out, ‘hyung.’
 
Instead, he settles for watching Changmin as Changmin watches the world.
 
-
 
It’s the third tentative group Jaejoong has been shoved into and it falls apart
like the other ones.
 
This is unsurprising in the least, but it leaves a question of whether they
will debut any time soon or not.
 
Yoochun pouts about his own fallout as they smoke in the parking lot of the
building, ‘at least Yunho is entertaining. We might become roommates.’
 
‘Not me?’ mock-gasps Jaejoong.
 
‘We might not even be in the same fuckin’ band,’ sighs Yoochun. ‘But I think
they’ll keep me with Yunho, just like they’re making you stick to that skinny
kid like glue.’
 
‘They say our voices match,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I like him.’
 
‘Course you do, you look like you’re going to eat him alive.’
 
‘And feel him struggle between my teeth,’ says Jaejoong airily before he
laughs. ‘Yoochunnie, he’s so cute – like you. I just want to be his friend.’
 
‘Right.’
 
-
 
Jaejoong learns the first and most important thing about little Shim Changmin a
day after they announce the new group project called Dong Bang Shin Ki.
 
Yunho’s been in a slump since Four Seasons got swept away, waving goodbye to
Heechul and Kangin as him and Jaejoong walk down the halls of SM three weeks
later for another meeting to greet their new bandmates.
 
It takes five groups and two years of training in total for this moment.
Jaejoong’s heart is in his throat when he sees Changmin standing beside
Yoochun, Junsu at his other side. Around them, the faceless SM staff scurry
around insect-like and irrelevant as Jaejoong feels a smile bloom upon his lips
when he meets Changmin’s big eyes.
 
Changmin smiles back – uncertain and wavering, his eyes skipping over Jaejoong
to look at Yunho beside him. Jaejoong doesn’t think anything of it then.
 
It’s a mistake. The next day, Jaejoong and Changmin are dismissed from the
vocal studio early due to technical issues and Jaejoong invites Changmin to
watch Yunho and Junsu in the dance rooms.
 
‘Okay,’ Changmin agrees, short of breathless, and Jaejoong discovers why when
they stand near the water bottles, observing the choreography performed to the
thumping bassline echoing out of the speakers.
 
The music comes to an end and Jaejoong follows the line of Changmin’s gaze, the
way it traces over the glimmer of sweat on Yunho and Junsu’s shoulders as they
bump against one another and laugh, wiping at their brows.
 
Jaejoong wonders what the appeal is to Changmin – whether it’s the sleek-eyed,
lazy grace of their bodies, the half-hidden arrogance found in the curve of
Junsu’s mouth and tilt of Yunho’s chin, the confidence they exude that could
snap Changmin’s twig wrists in half should he try to own it himself.
 
Years later, Changmin will admit to it under the cover of night, his skin
littered with bruises, mouth twisted – he has been hopelessly in love with
Yunho ever since he first laid eyes on him.
 
-
 
Changmin turns fifteen in February and they debut in December. In the eleven
months in between, Jaejoong comes to two conclusions:
 
The first – he’s also in love with Yunho.
 
Yunho is assigned as leader, despite Jaejoong being one month older and Junsu
being in training for a year longer. He takes to the mantle readily, perfectly
willing to lay down in front of some metaphorical bus for all of them – his
self-sacrificial tendencies alarming to Jaejoong, who is all sharp teeth and
pseudo-smiles.
 
It makes him beautiful in some distant way – perfect leader Yunho who straddles
the line between discipline and gentleness, listening eagerly to the manager
and trying his hand at getting them all assembled and ready in time, investing
his time and life to make the DBSK debut as perfect as can be.

Yunho is half-mortal and half-myth in his unflawed existence, and Jaejoong’s
fingers twitch to even be able to come close to that, to even be able to touch
that.
 
The second – neither him nor Changmin can have Yunho.
 
Changmin is wrapped up in a ribbon of his own naivety, a sacrificial lamb at
the altar of fame and riches, his mouth always pressed so tight to keep himself
together that it’s a wonder he makes a sound when Yunho speaks to him. It’s the
way his insecurities sideline him and make him too flawed and human to be
someone for Yunho to lean on when the mantle of leader gets too heavy.
 
And Jaejoong – Jaejoong is all edges decorated with ego, his insecurities
spiked with sharp teeth to cut anyone that passes too close. If Yunho comes
near, Jaejoong will hurt him – tear him apart and leave him gasping for air and
confidence again. Pretty, predatory things like Jaejoong haven’t figured out
how to hold toys – eager boys willing to please – without breaking them yet,
and Jaejoong wants anything but to cause Yunho pain.
 
That only comes to mean one thing in Jaejoong’s mind – that they must deserve
each other, him and little Shim Changmin. The singers – oldest and youngest –
who are hopelessly, helplessly in love with leader-sshi.
 
-
 
They move into the dorms three months before their debut – Yunho bunks with
Junsu and Changmin while Yoochun and Jaejoong stick close together. They’re too
busy to fully enjoy the faculties except that they fight almost daily over the
shower and subsist on ramyun for an alarming number of nights.
 
Their manager gives them two days off before their official debut – so Yunho
spends the first morning stringing cheap tinsel around their living room and
playing a CD of Christmas carols. Jaejoong ropes Junsu into cooking platefuls
of omurice – cheap and delicious – that Yoochun sets on the table while
Changmin switches the carols CD out with a medley of pop songs.
 
‘Merry Christmas!’ grins Yunho as he begins eating.
 
‘It’s Christmas eve,’ says Jaejoong, hiding a smile as he eats.
 
‘Shit, really, hyung?’ deadpans Junsu across from him, so Jaejoong kicks him
under the table. He grazes Changmin’s leg as well, who jerks.
 
‘You’re going to flip the table,’ he says, voice remarkably calm compared to
the morning yelling Jaejoong has heard from him, usually, ‘it’s been twenty
minutes, Junsu-hyung! I will piss in your shower if you don’t get out!’ One
bathroom amongst five people was a bad move on management’s part in general.
 
‘Careful, don’t make Changminnie angry,’ teases Yoochun, and the nickname makes
Changmin bristle, who is still unused to having four new hyungs and being
tossed around as a joke between them. It makes all his uncertainties rear up in
him – his voice laced with annoyance and anger more often than not when he does
deign to speak.
 
‘But it makes him so cute,’ replies Jaejoong with a smile. Changmin frowns at
his plate, brows drawn together, but he doesn’t reply.
 
-
 
After lunch, Yoochun buries himself in a notebook in his bed, lofty plans to
write lyrics for their future careers while Yunho takes a nap and Junsu bundles
up to visit Hyukjae. Jaejoong doesn’t know where Changmin is – maybe on the
phone with his family – so he changes the pop CD for one of his own that he
brought along.
 
The guitar riffs curl up and rumble, followed by interweaving notes of the
drums and lyrics sung out with a voice too rough to ever fit into SM. Jaejoong
lies on the couch, fingers drumming on his thigh to the flow of the rock music,
foreign Japanese mouthed on his lips, while he reads a trash mag he picked up
from the convenience store around the corner.
 
That’s when he hears a shuffle and Jaejoong peeks over the edge of his magazine
to Changmin standing in the entrance, his eyes half-lidded as he listens to the
lyrics he can’t understand and the way the music careens upwards in a loud,
cacophonous crescendo.
 
‘Changmin,’ greets Jaejoong, taking in the boy’s bone arms hanging loosely and
his too-long hair and his awkward nose. Everything about him a little
unfinished and breakable.
 
‘What,’ Changmin hesitates, his fingers skipping along the hem of his shirt in
nervousness. ‘What is that?’
 
‘This?’ Jaejoong sits up, magazine forgotten in his lap. ‘It’s Japanese rock.
Do you like it?’ Changmin doesn’t reply, so Jaejoong gestures to the space on
the couch beside him, making the decision for him. ‘Let me show you some more.’
 
-
 
They steal Yoochun’s Walkman and share headphones for the rest of the evening.
For a few hours, they cycle through Jaejoong’s CDs, pilfering through the
little lyric booklets that come with, Changmin’s hands are careful as they
touch the covers with embossed Japanese written on top.
 
For a little while, Jaejoong keeps Changmin close, watches the flash of
curiosity in those wide, lamb eyes, and murmurs the translations he has
memorized.
 
‘They sound like you,’ concludes Changmin once it’s time for dinner. Jaejoong
gathers up the CDs and looks at him, mouth curling upwards.
 
‘It’s where I learned singing from, Changmin-ah. Maybe you should try it.’
 
Changmin presses his mouth together, looking anywhere but at Jaejoong,
nervousness slinking back into his bones, making him retract his thoughts that
Jaejoong eagerly wants to touch and listen. ‘Maybe.’
 
Years later, this is what Jaejoong knows – that Changmin hates him, that
Changmin would still fuck him, and that when SM gave him the rare chance to do
solo songs, three of them were rock songs.
 
-
 
The thing about DBSK’s debut that Jaejoong loves the most is the theatrics: the
makeup and the clothes and the stylists cooing over him, telling him, ‘you have
such wonderful skin, such pretty lips, such big eyes.’
 
It is all an elaborate charade, and Jaejoong learns to pick and choose from his
masks, fit over ‘surprise’ and then ‘confusion’ then ‘elation’ when the camera
sweeps over them in expectation. There’s a trick to it – a certain forcing of
facial muscles while reading the air in the room, how people speak and where
their eyes go, and Jaejoong learns it well.
 
Junsu is good at it too – selling himself to the public, enthused and ecstatic,
his manufactured image draped over him like a second skin. But Yoochun
struggles – the still frail boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is always
a hint uncertain at this new attention on him, but Jaejoong will hold him up no
matter what. They’re best friends after all.
 
Yunho – oh, sweet hardworking Yunho –  is so absolutely genuine that it is hard
to not love him, and Jaejoong is pleased when the public falls for him the way
he does, the way Changmin does. At fifteen, Changmin is the worst of them all –
his voice frail unless he sings, the way his shoulders crook forward as if
trying to hide within himself, all of him screaming insecure and awkward with
his too-big nose and floppy ears.
 
It’s supposed to end in public, of course. Jaejoong doesn’t mean to bring this
particular skill of observation back to the dorms. It’s too late when he
realizes he has, for this is what he learns:
 
At fifteen, Changmin hates himself. At fifteen, Changmin also hates Jaejoong.
 
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Yunho is the second eldest and
leader, and he sticks close to Jaejoong, as if Jaejoong’s January birthday
makes him more wise and qualified for advice compared to being born in February
like Yunho.
 
They form a friendship – and Jaejoong takes great pains not to show Yunho how
fragile Yunho seems, how Jaejoong wants to trace his fingers over the easily-
scarred skin of the other, how he wants to leave something of himself there in
return.
 
At seventeen, Jaejoong is beautiful and talented and leader-sshi loves him
already the way he will never love Changmin, and Changmin loathes this.
 
‘Changmin-ah, you’re up late,’ says Yunho at the kitchen table, his hands full
of schedule notes while the clock ticks closer to two in the morning. Jaejoong
is leaning against the kitchen counter, sucking on an unlit cigarette, watching
as Changmin steps into the kitchen in his oversized pajamas. Changmin shoots
Yunho a smile, ‘just got thirsty, hyung,’ before his eyes flick up to Jaejoong,
and they’re black flints of dislike.
 
‘Let me pour you a cup,’ replies Jaejoong, ever the helpful hyung, as he does
just that without waiting for Changmin to answer.
 
Changmin stands beside Jaejoong, bone fingers tight around the glass. ‘Thanks.’
 
‘You should go to bed now, appa and umma are talking,’ sneers back Jaejoong,
just to tease, but he knows Changmin will not lose control in front of Yunho.
 
Instead, Changmin slams the glass into the sink. ‘Thanks for doing the dishes,’
he shoots back and goes back to his shared room with Junsu and Yunho.
 
‘Was he checking up on us?’ asks Yunho, amused, his expression betraying
nothing but how much he finds small Shim Changmin the cutest maknae.
 
But nothing else, thinks Jaejoong as he smiles around his cigarette. ‘I think
he just wanted a drink, Yunho-ah.’
 
-
 
The first time Jaejoong touches Changmin – they’re back on the couch. Yoochun
is taking a nap and Yunho is out with Heechul somewhere while Junsu takes a
shower to get ready to hang out with Hyukjae later.
 
There’s a truce between them when it comes to music. Jaejoong pilfers the music
stores around Seoul with Yoochun and brings home more CDs with his meagre
paycheck. Later, he will show them to Changmin, sit side-by-side on the couch
as they share headphones and try to follow along with the lyrics.
 
Sometimes Changmin will talk, make comparisons and draw upon how the vocalists
sing sweet and slow in the beginning before the first guitar riff vibrates
through the melody and the notes drop to something more rough and harsh – ‘like
they smoke a pack a day,’ he says, not looking at Jaejoong.
 
Jaejoong throws an arm around Changmin’s shoulders and pretends he doesn’t
notice that Changmin stiffens. He’s hyung though, so Changmin lets the arm rest
there. He won’t in a few years – but for now, while Jaejoong is still tempting
pretty, big-eyed lambs to slaughter, Changmin accepts the touch.
 
‘It does smell pretty bad,’ says Jaejoong, ‘but it’s also an addiction. Don’t
you have one?’
 
‘No,’ replies Changmin quickly, ‘I’m not like you, hyung.’
 
Jaejoong lets it lie though a few choice words cycle through his mind. While
they listen to the CD one more time, both of them wave goodbye to Junsu as he
leaves, and Changmin’s shoulders are now relaxed under Jaejoong’s arm. The last
song’s cymbals cease echoing in the earphones so Changmin takes them out,
stopping the Walkman before it loops the CD again. ‘This one is good.’
 
‘Changmin-ah,’ starts Jaejoong, tilting his head and catching Changmin’s gaze
against his will. ‘You’re not even addicted to the feeling of your hand on your
cock?’
 
Changmin’s eyes widen, a blush spreading over his cheeks, before he’s
scrambling to try to get away.
 
Jaejoong lets out a laugh – short and sharp – before his arms are pinning
Changmin down against the couch, his legs heavy as he straddles Changmin’s
thighs, fingers tight around the boy's wrists. ‘Don’t be shy.’
 
‘Don’t be a fucking creep!’ snarls Changmin, glaring up at him, eyes wide,
terror blending so well with his anger.
 
‘Changmin-ah, I’m pretty, aren’t I?’
 
It makes Changmin pause in his squirming, frozen in place. ‘What?’
 
Jaejoong makes an impatient noise. ‘Do I not get you hard? Or is that just a
right reserved for Yunnie?’
 
‘What the fuck do you think you’re saying about Yunho-hyung?’
 
‘That you like him – that you stand in the shower and get off on the thought of
Yunho kissing you, telling you he loves you?’
 
Changmin’s face is twisted in disgust. ‘Fuck you, Jaejoong.’
 
Ah – an opening. Jaejoong tilts his head to the side. ‘Would you like to?’
 
It’s a few weeks before Changmin’s sixteenth birthday, but he still hasn’t
figured out how to not wear his heart on his sleeve. Bewilderment is the first
emotion that crosses his face, followed closely by disgust and horror and – ah,
finally – contemplation as his expression smoothes out.
 
‘I’ll make it good for you, Changminnie,’ murmurs Jaejoong, voice oh-so-gentle.
‘You can imagine it’s your beloved Yunho-hyung.’ He takes Changmin’s captured
wrists and fits both of them in one hand before using his other hand to trail
down Changmin’s shirt and tap at the button of his jeans.
 
‘You’re bluffing,’ says Changmin, sounding proud that he’s caught on. ‘You’re
just doing this to humiliate me. You bastard.’ His body relaxes just a little
under Jaejoong, egging him on. ‘Don’t embarrass yourself.’
 
‘Is that permission?’ replies Jaejoong. Distantly, he knows Yoochun could wake
up at any point and walk in on them, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take.
Quickly, he unbuttons Changmin’s jeans, and wrenches the waistband down to
Changmin’s thighs, taking in the white undershorts. ‘How cute.’
 
‘Go fuck yourself,’ snaps Changmin, staying still, watching Jaejoong, under
some false impression that Jaejoong wouldn’t fuck himself on Changmin’s dick.
Well – joke’s on him. Jaejoong snaps the elastic waist of the undershorts
against the skin of Changmin’s abdomen, who bares his teeth, waiting for
Jaejoong to call chicken on his own game.
 
Instead, Jaejoong smiles at him sweetly before dipping his fingers underneath
and palming Changmin’s soft cock. Immediately, Changmin’s legs thrash as he
makes a surprised noise – ‘what the fuck – ’ – and Jaejoong doesn’t stop.
 
‘Just stay still, Changmin-ah – haven’t you ever done it with someone else’s
hand, hm?’ drawls Jaejoong, still jerking Changmin underneath, feeling the
blood rush downwards and get the boy’s dick half-hard in his palm. ‘I promise
it feels so much better than your own fingers.’
 
By the time the first pearl of precome appears, Changmin is arching, a flush to
his cheeks, his body straining under the weight of Jaejoong and how badly his
cock is twitching as Jaejoong jerks him off.
 
Jaejoong can’t see it, but he can feel Changmin’s dick – how it’s longer rather
than thick, with his soft balls drawing up close to his body, and the brush of
hair around the base and on the inside of his thighs. Definitely old enough.
 
With focus and precision, Jaejoong spreads the precome down the length,
lubricates the hot heat of his palm all the way down and back up again, feeling
how the sensations make Changmin vibrate as he starts to fuck into Jaejoong’s
fist. He’s going to come soon – too soon, in Jaejoong’s opinion – but Changmin
is still young and unpracticed.
 
‘Fuck – fuck – ’ groans out Changmin, his hatred for himself and Jaejoong
amplifying as Jaejoong works him over.
 
‘That’s right, Changmin-ah,’ says Jaejoong breathlessly, taking in the pretty
sight of Changmin’s hair all disheveled and the sheen of sweat over his skin.
Changmin bucks his hips, fucks hard into Jaejoong’s hand once, twice, and comes
in a mess.
 
Jaejoong wipes the semen over the fabric of Changmin’s undershorts before
letting go of Changmin’s wrist with his other hand. Changmin doesn’t move –
boneless and upset. Silently, Jaejoong pulls up Changmin’s jeans and buttons
them neatly before standing up. Yoochun’s Walkman has fallen to the carpet in
their tussle, so he picks it up and puts away the CD in its case, cleaning it
all as if Changmin isn’t still reeling from being jerked off against his will
on the couch.
 
‘I hate you,’ he rasps when Jaejoong is finally walking out of the room.
 
Jaejoong half-turns and cups his crotch in his hand, moaning out. ‘Changmin-ah,
I want you to fuck me next.’
 
It makes Changmin jerk and scowl before rolling onto his side, back to
Jaejoong, legs drawing up so he can curl up into himself.
 
It’s childish and pathetic and Jaejoong can’t help the short laugh that escapes
his mouth as he walks to his room to wake Yoochun up.
 
-
 
Yunho doesn’t notice that something is creeping and electric between his
vocalists. That Changmin watches Jaejoong more fiercely, warily, his body
strung tight in tension. Jaejoong doesn’t care, and goes on as always, meeting
Changmin’s gazes with a half-smile, tempting him if he so wants – Changmin will
come around eventually. After all, they’re meant to be – the both of them. The
two boys helplessly in love with leader-sshi, but too sharp and mean to get
him.
 
It happens a month after Changmin turns sixteen that February. Jaejoong smells
it when he walks into the dorms after going out drinking with Hyunjoong in the
morning. The shades are doing nothing to help his fight against sunlight when
he opens the door to see Yunho also taking his shoes off.
 
‘Late night,’ yawns Jaejoong, kicking the door shut behind him. Yunho’s hair is
messy and his clothes wrinkled, but he shoots Jaejoong a smile.
 
‘Yeah – was good, though.’
 
Jaejoong might still be a little drunk but he can’t mistake the smell of – oh,
Yunho. Yunho, Yunho, Yunho. ‘You should take a shower, Yunho-ah,’ he drawls.
 
Yunho jerks back, surprised, smile fading. ‘Oh – is it that obvious?’
 
When they step past the hallway into the kitchen, Junsu and Changmin are
already at the table, sniping at each other good-heartedly over respective
bowls of rice and eggs. Yunho tries to shuffle out of the kitchen, self-
conscious, when Junsu pins him down with a, ‘good night, Yunho?’
 
Yunho freezes and gives up, grinning. ‘Yeah, I had a great time.’
 
‘Did you go drinking?’ asks Changmin, chewing slowly as he takes in the sight
of a well-fucked Yunho. Jaejoong wants to curl a hand around the boy’s neck,
prepare him for the disappointment and the jealousy – but it’s too late.
 
‘No, Changminnie, he went out with a person,’ croons Junsu, propping his chin
in his hand. ‘How many rounds, hyung?’
 
‘That,’ starts Yunho with a good-natured smile but a sternness to his voice
that brooks no argument, ‘is none of your business, Junsu-ah.’ Finally, he
disappears out of the kitchen to the hallway to take a shower, but the news has
been broken.
 
Jaejoong pushes his sunglasses onto his head and snorts, looking at how Junsu
resumes his meal but Changmin stares at the doorway of the kitchen where Yunho
just left. There’s a myriad of emotions that well up from his chest that
Jaejoong can imagine – surprise, jealousy, a yawning despair when he realizes
that Yunho will never, ever look at him the way he sees Yunho.
 
-
 
There is cause, and there is consequence. Jaejoong waits and is rewarded.
 
It takes a week, but one Sunday morning, Changmin catches Jaejoong on the
balcony with his pack of cigarettes, hair in disarray and a bathrobe wrapped
around himself.
 
‘Jaejoong-hyung,’ he calls out. Jaejoong blinks owlishly before looking back
over his shoulder, cigarette hanging from his lips.
 
‘Yes, Changmin?’
 
The spring air makes chills creep up Changmin’s bare, twig-thin legs, flicking
the long edges of his hair against his neck. Vaguely, Jaejoong wonders if it
tickles, before his attention is caught by the CD case held delicately between
Changmin’s long, bone fingers. ‘Can we listen to this?’
 
Jaejoong flicks his gaze upwards and Changmin meets him head-on. He smiles –
sweet and slow, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth with his fingers. ‘Of
course.’
 
-
 
They get through three songs before Changmin hooks his leg over Jaejoong’s lap,
Yoochun’s Walkman crashing to the floor. One day it’s going to break, but
Jaejoong can’t even think of that right now when Changmin’s young fingers are
shaking as he unties the belt around Jaejoong’s bathrobe, straddled in his lap.
 
‘Take your time, Changminnie, I’m not going anywhere,’ breathes out Jaejoong,
tipping his head forward to skim his mouth over the still childish curve of
Changmin’s cheek. It makes Changmin jerk and shift, his breath coming fast as
he reveals the bared skin of Jaejoong’s torso and his underwear.
 
‘You want me, right?’ asks Changmin suddenly, voice fierce and eyes glinting.
Jaejoong leans his head back against the couch and looks at him through half-
lidded eyes, his hands skipping up Changmin’s thighs over his undershorts.
 
‘As much as you want me, Changminnie.’
 
‘I hate you.’
 
Jaejoong only grins, one hand on Changmin’s hip, the other dipping down to
grasp Changmin’s half-hard cock. Changmin’s own hands hesitate at the waistband
of Jaejoong’s undershorts, as if touching him will make this too real. ‘Scared,
Changminnie?’
 
Changmin pauses, and then rasps, ‘no,’ before he shoves his hand down
Jaejoong’s undershorts to stroke him. He jerks Jaejoong off how Jaejoong
imagines Changmin does to himself. It’s tight and rough, just edging on
painful; especially when Changmin flicks his thumbnail under the cockridge and
pressing hard down on the leaking tip to spread the precome all along the
shaft.
 
Jaejoong groans in appreciation, liking the edge of pain that goes with
Changmin’s soft, bone-fingered hands working him over. Changmin is intent on
getting Jaejong off as fast as possible, so Jaejoong only holds Changmin’s dick
in his hand, unmoving, waiting until he finishes himself.
 
With a shift, Jaejoong lifts his ass upwards along with Changmin straddling his
lap in order for Changmin to push his underwear down around his hips to bunch
at his thighs. When Jaejoong finally sits back down, Changmin is watching the
leaking head of Jaejoong’s cock, the way the precome shines in the sunlit air.
The couch’s fabric chafes against Jaejoong’s skin, but he doesn’t care when he
has Changmin entranced and focused like this, jerking him off with his fingers
 
‘Use your other hand, Changmin-ah, feels fuckin’ good,’ says Jaejoong,
unabashed, and Changmin doesn’t stop his strokes, but his other hand is now
playing with Jaejoong’s balls, tugging at them and making Jaejoong hiss and
gasp out. Changmin’s hands are overeager, a little painful, and Jaejoong adores
it in all its gracelessness and inexperience.
 
He moves his hips, tries to fuck into Changmin’s fist, and Changmin’s eyes
flash as if surprised.
 
‘Don’t stop now, Changmin-ah,’ breathes out Jaejoong, ‘aren’t you going to let
me come?’
 
Changmin looks up at him, his eyes wide and a little scared at how new this is.
It makes Jaejoong want to laugh and pin him and down and break him. Quickly,
Changmin flicks his eyes down to Jaejoong’s leaking cock and twists his wrist
on the upstroke.
 
It doesn’t take soon after that – not when Jaejoong is riding the high of
corruption like this; the small scrawny boy with his awkwardness written in the
arch of his spine giving in and jerking off the one he hates oh-so-much.
Jaejoong groans and fucks into Changmin’s hand twice more before covering his
fingers in come.
 
Changmin muffles a gasp, pulling his hands away immediately and marveling at
the sticky semen on his skin, how the white threatened to blend in with his own
paleness. He doesn’t get the chance to wipe it off when Jaejoong begins
stroking Changmin off from under his shorts. Using his other hand, Jaejoong
wrenches the fabric down to see Changmin’s small cock to match his slenderness,
how it’s flushed and leaking, arcing upwards, betraying how hot Jaejoong must
be in Changmin’s eyes despite all feelings to the contrary.
 
‘You can hate me all you want, Changmin-ah,’ whispers Jaejoong into his ears,
making Changmin squirm and pant as his hips move to Jaejoong’s rhythm, ‘but
you’ll still love this, and only I’ll give it to you – your precious Jaejoong-
hyung.’ Not Yunho hangs unsaid between them, where Changmin’s jealousy writhes
deep and all he wants is to be noticed again.
 
The boy jerks and arches, his sticky fingers clawing into Jaejoong’s stomach as
he loses it completely and comes all over himself, striping his shirt and
Jaejoong’s hand. With a sigh, he slumps forward, eyes fluttering closed, as if
simply giving up for now.
 
The weakness makes Jaejoong smile, catching Changmin against his chest and
laying him down against the couch, shorts pulled back up around his hips to
cover the mess of his cock. In the kitchen, he washes his hands and grabs a few
tissues to clean Changmin’s fingers from Jaejoong’s come.
 
Changmin stirs, his eyes opening slightly – ‘get the fuck away from me.’
 
‘Not yet,’ smiles Jaejoong and continues to do as he pleases.
 
-
 
Soon after, Changmin gets plastic surgery for his nose, and Jaejoong’s first
urge is to crush it under his hand, watch blood seep down Changmin’s chin and
drip all over his shirt and shoes, staining him red from head to toe.
 
‘It looks good,’ they tell him when the facial cast finally comes off. It
changes Changmin – makes him a little less unafraid to speak up, to yell, to
spit insults when something bothers him. He’s the snarking maknae, the
sarcastic, mean, bratty maknae now.
 
Jaejoong frowns – looking for those lamb-eyes again, but it’s hard to breach
under the harsh exterior that Changmin is intent on putting up. Instead, he’s
too busy teaching the rest of the band what scraps of Japanese he knows after
Yunho comes home with a contract with AVEX in Japan.
 
‘We need to sing in Japanese now?’ asks Yoochun with a frown, ‘a year after our
debut?’
 
‘Boa did it,’ points out Junsu.
 
‘Boa’s been doing this since the fourth grade,’ whines Changmin.
 
Junsu rolls his eyes, ‘anyway, Jaejoong-hyung – with your J-rock, don’t you
know all this shit already?’
 
Jaejoong levels him with a glare. ‘Yeah, Junsu-ah, don’t you know all about
sucking cock already.’
 
‘Fuck you.’
 
‘Moving on,’ presses Yunho, ‘we’ll be attending lessons starting this
Wednesday. Jaejoong, you already know a little bit, and it’d be really nice if
you could help us out.’
 
They get enough syllables right to record a few songs before SM asks them to
pack up and move into a shitty apartment in Japan for a few months.
 
-
 
Japan is simultaneously the most beautiful and worst place in the world.
 
The hiragana and katakana and kanji stuffs itself uncomfortably into Jaejoong’s
mouth and crosses his eyes, but he loves this place in all its various
dichotomies. How clean and precise the roads are lined up outside their tiny
balcony as he hangs his legs between the railing and listens to how angry and
rough the CDs are in the their downtime.
 
Their concerts are for a few hundred people every week – the band an unknown
name and nothing to be concerned with. Yet, whispers Yunho to them after each
night. Not yet. Still, their apartment is full of hangul, full of the language
of home, familiar when the outside seems intent on beating them down.
 
Jaejoong thinks he changes, but he can’t put his finger on it. Maybe he grows
up, a little more mature – they all do. Changmin, however – that he sees like
it’s written in black ink over his paper-pale skin.
 
Their sessions, if that’s what Jaejoong can call them, are usually instigated
by Changmin but ended with Jaejoong pinning the body underneath him. Changmin
has a preference for it in his own bed. When Yoochun and Junsu have gone
shopping and Yunho is getting things worked out with their manager at AVEX,
Changmin will invite himself and Jaejoong into his and Junsu’s shared bedroom
and lock the door.
 
Jaejoong sometimes sucks him off. Learns more about Changmin than he thought
would ever be true. How Changmin resists but he loves – oh, how he loves– when
Jaejoong’s teeth skim and bite against the skin of his cock, and how he’ll pant
and keen when Jaejoong’s nails sink into his hipbones.
 
They’re perfect for each other, thinks Jaejoong – Changmin the eager slut for
pain, and Jaejoong who wants nothing more than to fuck him up.
 
Sometimes, Changmin will straddle Jaejoong’s lap and feel how Jaejoong’s grip
forces him to grind his ass down on Jaejoong’s half-hard cock, how Jaejoong
dictates the pace and how rough and filthy he gets.
 
‘Are you scared, Changminnie?’ sneers Jaejoong in his ear. ‘Cause you don’t
know anything yet? Still a fucking kid.’
 
‘Fuck you,’ he spits out, breathless and groaning, back arching as his cock
grinds extra hard against Jaejoong’s abdomen. ‘Just letting hyung do all the
work.’
 
Jaejoong shuts him up at these times by nibbling at Changmin’s collarbone,
scraping his teeth down the long line of his neck and tugging at his nipples.
He likes seeing Changmin shirtless – his ribs pressing out from under his skin
despite the faint lines of muscles that are appearing over his body.
 
In the haze of arousal, Changmin will let Jaejoong strip him completely naked,
unresisting to the scratch of Jaejoong’s jeans when they scrape against his
skin. He likes lying down against the sheets, splayed out for Jaejoong to play
with to his heart’s content, interweaving his gentleness with pricks of pain.
 
He will ease the idea to Changmin; will show him the beauty of blooming bruises
and how the pain will make every nerve in his body tingle with want for more.
For now, Jaejoong settles with stinging bites and scratches, smoothed over with
the warm, wet heat of his tongue.
 
Japan is the worst place but also the best – for its music and its food and the
dichotomies of its clean streets and its screaming youth, for Changmin all
fierce to prove himself but succumbing so sweetly under Jaejoong’s clawed
hands.
 
It’s almost disappointing when they leave.
 
-
 
The first time Jaejoong hits Changmin, its four months before Changmin turns
seventeen.
 
Yunho gets veneers for his crooked teeth and it makes him irritable and even
more of a hard-ass than his workaholic previous self. Jaejoong swings between
loving Yunho and hating him absolutely over the past few weeks.
 
How Yunho makes them practice their lines for longer, judges their voices and
makes them record songs over and over. How Yunho has them memorize their
scripts for their interviews, and wakes them up too early in the morning to get
ready to practice before their shows. How Yunho has trapped them here in the
dance studio at an hour too late – making them  run through the choreography
again and again, sweat dripping down their necks.
 
It’s not enough, it’s not perfect, emphasizes Yunho for the sixth time – or
maybe the tenth, thirteenth, Jaejoong doesn’t fucking care. It’s enough of an
excuse to hit the repeat button on the stereo system and hear the music loop
once more, Yunho taking position to make them dance through it for the
umpteenth as if they’re not all exhausted, dehydrated, dying.
 
‘No, Changmin,’ says Yunho, ‘you need to move to the left, not the right.
Remember.’ And it’s a gentle scolding by all means, but Jaejoong is tired and
fucking annoyed by everything going on. His bones ache and his muscles feel
stretched thin and he hates the bruises of exhaustion that press under
Yoochun’s eyes from this sort of exercise.
 
Changmin’s face crumples and he tries again. They get through the first two
minutes fine, but then Yunho shifts to the side and Changmin screws up. Again.
 
‘Changmin – ’ starts Yunho, voice a little muffled from the plastic in his
mouth, but Jaejoong snaps.
 
‘No – fuck this.’ He crosses the wooden boards and Changmin turns his tired,
guilty gaze onto him. For a split-second, Jaejoong thinks of how young Changmin
is, how he fits uncomfortably under his own skin, how he doesn’t know where his
limbs are going when he grows up too fast under spotlights and makeup covering
his flaws.
 
For a split second, Jaejoong thinks, ‘Changmin is just a child,’ before his
fist collides into Changmin’s arm and hears the kid gasp out in pain before
stumbling away. ‘Practice alone.’ He turns to face Yunho, ‘I’m fucking done
here. Yoochun, we’re going.’
 
‘Jaejoong!’ says Yunho – voice loud and order clear, but Jaejoong shoots him a
murderous look before he grabs his backpack, along with Yoochun’s, and storms
out of there, Yoochun following close behind.
 
‘Let’s just go home and go to bed,’ he sighs, and slumps miserably against
Yoochun’s arm around his waist, holding him close.
 
‘Thanks,’ murmurs Yoochun into Jaejoong’s sweaty mess of his hair, and Jaejoong
leans on him all the way back. When he takes a shower, his knuckles feel sore
and he stretches his hand out, feels how the span of his palm could engulf
Changmin whole.
 
Jaejoong wants to say he regrets it now that his temper has cooled, but all he
knows is that he wants to see what Changmin’s skin looks like afterwards when
he pulls his sleeve up – if it’s just a red mark that will fade away by
morning, or –oh – if it’s bruised and purpling and pulls at Changmin’s nerves
every time he moves his arm for the next week, like a reminder.
 
-
 
For the first week, Changmin flinches and stays away and practices alone after
hours to get the choreography right. He doesn’t sleep well if the bags under
his eyes are any indication, but he keeps up with the rest of the band, his
mistakes erased through sheer focus and effort.
 
Vaguely, Jaejoong wonders if Changmin will stay short as he is – bogged down by
his own lack of food and rest and an overabundance of stress. All these frail
limbs and twig-thin bones, his mouth too wide and pink for the hard look that
sometimes gets in his eyes.
 
Another week passes – Changmin skittish and strung tight – before Junsu manages
to rope them all onto the couch to watch some movie or another. ‘We can’t go
out,’ he says in justification, ‘so we might as well stay in,’ and it’s enough.
 
Jaejoong wishes he remembers what the movie was about, curled between the arm
of the couch and Yoochun. Yunho is on the other side, and Junsu sits on the
floor beside Changmin, his head tipped back for Yunho’s long fingers to brush
through his hair idly while watching the storyline unfold on screen. Changmin
follows Junsu’s example and leans against Yoochun’s warm leg, a blanket wrapped
around his shoulders, while Yoochun scratches softly at the space behind
Changmin’s ear like a puppy.
 
If Jaejoong focuses, he can see the small ripple of shivers that spread over
Changmin’s skin and down his spine, and the lolling of his head as if he’s
ready to fall asleep. An hour into the movie, Junsu pauses to go to the
bathroom and Yunho offers to make more popcorn for their empty bowl. Yoochun
nods, still petting Changmin, when Jaejoong narrows his eyes and decides to
ruin this moment.
 
‘Isn’t our maknae cute?’ he croons, ‘like our own tiny puppy.’
 
‘Jaejoong,’ frowns Yoochun, his fingers stilling and eliciting a whine from
Changmin’s throat before he can stop it.
 
‘Don’t stop petting him,’ scolds Jaejoong, eyes glittering and not watching
Yoochun at all.
 
Changmin rouses and looks over his shoulder at Jaejoong, blinking the
sleepiness from his eyes. ‘Shut up.’
 
‘I’m sorry, Changminnie,’ he mocks, ‘Don’t bite; I’ll come pet you too.’
 
He reaches out and Changmin’s eyes widen then narrow. Before Jaejoong realizes
it – his hand is stinging from being knocked away so hard by Changmin’s fist as
Changmin’s mouth moves, ‘I said shut up.’
 
There’s a pause and Jaejoong retracts his hand, dropping it in his lap,
watching the other, seeing the transformation on Changmin’s face from anger to
fear. Now, Changmin’s eyes are widewidewide and oh-so-terrified when it becomes
clear what he’s done. He’s hit his hyung, andJaejoong-hyung of all people.
Distantly, Jaejoong hears Yunho stepping around in the kitchen and the rush of
water as Junsu washes his hands in the bathroom. Beside him, Yoochun has gone
stiff, watching between Changmin and Jaejoong.
 
‘Okay,’ acquiesces Jaejoong, his voice deadly soft and promising nothing but a
world of pain. ‘I guess puppy can bite back too.’
 
Changmin swallows and tries to steel himself, curled up under his blanket.
‘Fuck you, hyung.’
 
‘You know how I feel about that.’
 
‘Feel about what?’ asks Junsu as he steps into the living room, Yunho following
close behind with a now full bowl.
 
‘Nothing,’ interjects Yoochun quietly. ‘Jaejoong’s being an ass.’
 
‘I’m just teasing,’ murmurs Jaejoong, leaning against Yoochun, wrapping an arm
around his best friend’s shoulders and tucking himself close. Halfway through
the movie, Changmin falls asleep on Junsu’s shoulder, who is dozing against
Yunho’s leg. Yoochun is also napping against Jaejoong’s side, his face smoothed
out, and Jaejoong has no heart to wake him up.
 
‘Let’s get them to bed,’ says Yunho as he gets up and then kneels down in front
of Junsu, stroking his cheek softly. ‘Junsu-ah.’
 
Jaejoong’s eyes skitter away from the scene that looks too intimate for words.
Eventually, Junsu and Changmin are roused and led away by Yunho to their beds,
while Jaejoong lays Yoochun down along the couch, curled up beside him with a
blanket drawn over them both. Yoochun will complain about backaches and
Jaejoong’s morning breath in a few hours, but for now, Jaejoong keeps him near.
 
-
 
It takes three days. Jaejoong is lazing about in bed with earphones and one of
Yoochun’s old trash mags from the convenience store around the corner when
someone knocks on the door.
  
Immediately, he knows who it is because Yoochun lives with Jaejoong, Yunho has
zero concept of privacy in the dorms, and Junsu doesn’t give a fuck.
 
‘Changmin-ah,’ he calls out, and the door opens and lets the boy in - his hair
mussed and his undershorts and oversized t-shirt wrinkled. The arch of his
exposed ankles and wrists beg to be gripped and sprained and bruised, but
Jaejoong keeps to himself as Changmin quietly shuts the door behind him and
takes one teetering step, then another.
 
‘Stop it,’ he rasps out, finally.
 
‘Stop what?’ asks Jaejoong with a smile, tossing the magazine aside and taking
out his earphones. This is much more interesting.
 
‘Making me wait.’ Changmin sucks in a breath, his eyes glittering with hatred
and fear. ‘I hit you and I know you didn’t forget, so do what you want and stop
making me wait for – for whatever you’re going to do.’
 
‘Do you want me to hit you back?’ suggests Jaejoong. He pauses, takes a breath.
‘Or do you want to go back to old times?’
 
Remembrance flashes over Changmin’s face and the frisson of lust that ripples
down his body is unmistakable. It seems little Changminnie missed this.
Jaejoong gestures to the space on the bed beside him. ‘Come here.’ It’s not a
suggestion.
 
Changmin squirms with indecision before pressing forward, towards Jaejoong, who
only smiles in invitation. The magazine and Walkman are pushed to the floor,
and Jaejoong is enclosing his fingers over Changmin’s thin biceps, drawing him
close.
 
Like this, Changmin kneeling between Jaejoong’s legs as they both sit on the
bedspread, Jaejoong can count all of Changmin’s lashes, the dryness of his pink
lips, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he tries to swallow down his fear and
anticipation. Jaejoong lets out a soft noise from the back of his throat –
Changmin is such a gorgeous little mess of a boy.
 
‘May I?’
 
‘May you what?’ asks Changmin, his voice too loud, making him shut his jaw with
a click.
 
‘Kiss you.’
 
‘No – that’s – ’ He seems to struggle with himself for an answer.
 
‘For Yunho-hyung?’ mocks Jaejoong.
 
‘Fuck you, hyung,’ snaps Changmin.
 
‘About that.’ He pulls back, hands skimming upwards to curl around Changmin’s
china-glass neck. ‘You want to, don’t you?’ Changmin sucks in a sharp breath in
surprise, but doesn’t reply, so Jaejoong presses on, ‘I’ll let you. Get on my
knees and let you slide your pretty cock inside of me. You’ve never done it -
so there won’t be a condom.’ He lets out a soft moan, ‘It’d feel so good with
your come leaking out of me.’
 
Changmin’s breath stutters in his throat. ‘You’re lying.’
 
‘There is a catch,’ nods Jaejoong, one hand tracing along the curve of
Changmin’s jawline and corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll let you fuck me only if I get
to fuck you afterwards.’
 
‘No,’ he replies immediately, then bites his bottom lip as if in regret. ‘Not.
Not on the same day.’
 
‘Of course not,’ soothes Jaejoong, moving his fingers to tickle Changmin’s nape
with his fingers, playing with the curling edges of his too-long hair. ‘So are
you going to fuck me or not?’
 
Changmin inhales sharply, hands coming up to play with the hem of Jaejoong’s
shirt, his eyes wide and searching. Jaejoong raises his arms above his head and
lets Changmin take off his shirt, throwing the cotton over the side of the bed.
 
Jaejoong knows he’s beautiful – he’s always known – and seeing Changmin take
him in, his long, twig fingers brushing over his defined torso. ‘Going to get a
tattoo there,’ breathes out Jaejoong, a half-smile playing on his mouth.
Changmin flicks his eyes up, pressing his hand fully against the other’s chest
and flicking his thumb against the nipple. Jaejoong makes a soft noise, ‘ah,’
and Changmin’s gaze turns hungry as his pupils bloom.
 
‘I’ll kiss you one day,’ warns Jaejoong when he leans forward but Changmin
ducks his head, licking along Jaejoong’s collarbone. Changmin makes a muffled
noise, fingers playing with Jaejoong’s nipples as he laves his tongue over
Jaejoong’s neck.
 
It’s overeager and wet, virginal in every sense, and Jaejoong revels in it.
This corruption of little Shim Changmin, dying his white wool in the red-green-
black of lust-envy-hate. He arches his spine, pushes into the touch even as he
lies back against the sheets, and lets Changmin trail his mouth downwards to
scrape his teeth over Jaejoong’s abdominal muscles.
 
Reaching down, Jaejoong hooks his fingers into Changmin’s shirt, pulling at it.
Changmin lifts up his head – his still-round cheeks red and flushed, wide mouth
wet, long hair a mess – and Jaejoong groans aloud, unable to take how fucking
innocent Changmin is, how fucking corruptible.
 
‘C’mon, get to it,’ says Jaejoong, hips doing a shimmy in indication. ‘Get
fucking naked.’
 
If Changmin was older, more experienced, Jaejoong can imagine the smug little
smile he would get all, ‘hyung, you want it so bad,’ but now – oh. Now Changmin
is sixteen and stuttering and he obeys Jaejoong without a beat of hesitation,
his fingers retreating from Jaejoong’s skin to strip himself down.
 
Free of Changmin, Jaejoong kicks off his pants and underwear, his body naked
and on display – all pale skin and carved from hours at the gym and dance
practice. It makes Changmin inhale sharply, his gaze unblinking as he takes
Jaejoong in while his own body – so deliriously small – gets back on the bed.
 
This, Jaejoong groans when Changmin wraps his hand around his dick – this
Changmin has had practice with. This Changmin could do by now – jerk him off
how he liked it, long strokes, flicking at his cockhead, spreading his precome
all down the shaft and back up again. Jaejoong breathes and rolls his hips into
Changmin’s rhythm, reveling in the feel of the soft skin.
 
‘Want me to ride you, Changminnie?’ murmurs Jaejoong, with a half-stifled moan.
‘Or do you want me on my back, hm?’ Changmin doesn’t reply, his own cock hard
and leaking between his thighs as he strokes Jaejoong off. ‘No – I think I’m
going to get on my knees, you’ll like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking your hyung
with his ass in the air.’
 
‘Hyung,’ gasps out Changmin, gaze intense, and Jaejoong loves how easy it is
rile him up. He bats Changmin’s hands away from his cock and gets off the bed
to grab his lube shoved somewhere underneath the mattress. When he finds it,
he’s already back on the bed, three fingers slicked up.
 
‘Watch and learn, Changminnie,’ Jaejoong gasps out, balanced on his knees and
forearm, other hand circling his hole with the lube. Eventually, he slides the
first finger inside of him and moans at the familiar burn of resistance. ‘Feels
fuckin’ good.’ It takes a minute or two for Jaejoong to slide in the next
 digit, pushing at the fluttering rim of his hole, stretching himself out.
 
He feels the heat of Changmin’s body at his thighs, the claws of his overeager
hands clutching at the flesh of Jaejoong’s ass as he watches Jaejoong fuck
himself open. Jaejoong muffles his laughter against the sheets as the third
finger pushes in, getting him more than ready for Changmin’s slender cock.
 
‘Fuck me,’ he pants when he finally pulls out his hand and braces his forearm
against the bed. Changmin makes a desperate noise and gets on his knees behind
Jaejoong, pressing the tip of his leaking dick against the hole, pushing in
achingly slow.
 
Jaejoong would give points to the care Changmin enters him, but apparently
Changmin’s self-control only lasts until he’s finally seated balls-deep. The
moment Jaejoong moans out a, ‘yeah, that’s good’, Changmin loses his mind.
Jaejoong feels the desperate scratch of Changmin’s fingers against his hips as
begins to fuck hard and rough into Jaejoong’s hole, only trying to get to his
orgasm as fast as he can.
 
Eventually, Changmin drapes his chest along Jaejoong’s back, his breath hot
against the back of Jaejoong’s neck as his cock jabs into him repeatedly.
‘Hyung – fuck – ’ he groans, unable to restrain himself, and Jaejoong revels in
it – how greedy and selfish and childish it is. How it’s so perfectly Changmin
to fuck someone for himself and Jaejoong’s hot, tight ass just driving him
closer and closer to his own edge.
 
Jaejoong licks his mouth and reaches back, cups his sack and traces the
smoothed, stretched skin around his hole and Changmin keeps bucking into him,
his voice whining from his throat. It’s obviously too much for him – and
Jaejoong resigns himself to having an ass full of come but no orgasm for
himself.
 
Still, it feels good, even if Changmin doesn’t know what he’s doing. It feels
good to have a cock in his ass again, stretching him open, grazing his prostate
with each haphazard thrust. Changmin sobs, his balls drawing up as his orgasm
begins to crest. Jaejoong bites his lip, pushing his hips back to meet
Changmin’s thrusts and then clenching his ass on each downstroke, savouring the
way Changmin’s cock rubs against his rim.
 
‘Going to come?’ gasps out Jaejoong, his hips moving in tandem with Changmin’s.
Changmin buries his face in the space between Jaejoong’s shoulder blades, hips
snapping in short, deep jabs that Jaejoong wishes were a little rougher, a
little harder, but Changmin would learn in time, he was sure.
 
‘Jae – Jaejoong-hyung – ’ yips Changmin, breathless, and Jaejoong groans at the
innocent noise.
 
‘Come inside me, Changminnie, you can – do it.’
 
Changmin sobs against the skin of Jaejoong’s back before he does just that, his
cock pulsing out ropes of come, striping the inside of Jaejoong till he’s full
of it. With another wrenching gasp, Changmin pulls out, falling on his ass as
Jaejoong arches his back all cat-like.
 
Curiously, Jaejoong reaches back and dips a finger into his hole, drawing out a
line of come, and moans appreciatively at the sight, before he’s flipping
himself onto his back and gesturing at his still hard cock. ‘Bad bedside
manner, Changminnie. You didn’t make hyung come.’
 
The boy looks fucked out and exhausted, his hair stuck to his cheeks and
forehead, a flush painted over his face and down his neck, his skin glittering
under the low light of the room. Jaejoong watches as Changmin tries to wet his
dry mouth again, tongue flickering out to lick at the sweat on his top lip.
 
‘Suck me,’ says Jaejoong breathlessly, entranced by that mouth – so wide and
pink. He’s sucked Changmin off a couple times, swallowed down his bitter come
and licked around his softening cock until Changmin was hissing and writhing
against the bed, but Changmin has never returned the favour. Until now, that
is.
 
Changmin seems to ponder arguing, but Jaejoong pierces him with a look that
brooks no argument. Swallowing, the boy slides his hands over the inside of
Jaejoong’s thighs before he ducks down his head and sticks out his tongue to
gauge distance.
 
With a flickering touch, he licks Jaejoong’s precome before suckling down the
cockhead and sucking eagerly. It’s the same way Jaejoong sucks off Changmin,
and Jaejoong wants to award him for his observation skills even when he’s
keening and whining to come already.
 
It’s even more impressive when Changmin’s hand grasps the base while the other
fondles Jaejoong’s sack, rolling one ball then the other in his warm palm.
Jaejoong groans, waiting for the exact moment to do what he wants. For now, he
lets Changmin bob his head shallowly as he takes in the first half of
Jaejoong’s dick, his hands doing the rest of the work by stroking and tugging
gently, urging Jaejoong’s orgasm forward.
 
Eventually, even the sloppiest blowjobs elicit a reaction and Jaejoong is
panting to how Changmin licks down the shaft and back up again, his hair
ticking Jaejoong’s cock, lines of saliva connecting his flushed bottom lip to
the dick.
 
Jaejoong’s hips jerk when Changmin’s other hand goes too far and nudges against
his still-stretched hole, and Changmin flinches when the cockhead almost hits
his eye. His lashes flicker closed and Jaejoong almost blows his load at the
sight – of sixteen year old Changmin with a dick in his hands, mouth red and
slick, a line of precome connecting his fucking eyelashes to the leaking head
of Jaejoong’s cock.
 
‘Fuck, put your mouth on me, Changminnie,’ orders Jaejoong roughly, and
Changmin opens up and swallows him down into that glorious wet warmth. Jaejoong
props himself up on one elbow and threads his fingers into Changmin’s hair,
taking a grip. ‘Going to come in your fucking mouth.’
 
Changmin’s eyes widen and he tries to pull off, but Jaejoong’s always been
stronger than him. He pushes Changmin’s mouth down, groans as the cockhead hits
the back of Changmin’s throat and keeps fucking into the boy’s mouth, trying to
get so fucking deep down his throat.
 
The lack of air makes Changmin gag and he’s struggling, arching his back, his
nails scratching deep into Jaejoong’s hips and thighs, but it’s no use and
Jaejoong keeps at it, stuffing himself in and back out, savouring the wetness
and how fucking debauched Changmin looks like this – how Yunho would fucking
cry to see their maknae with a cock down his throat, choking on it.
 
‘Yes, yes, fuck,’ gasps out Jaejoong, and Changmin has gone still, his eyes
half-lidded and glazed over as he lets Jaejoong use his mouth up. Oh, he was
right – he was so fucking right – Changmin would learn to love this. Little
Shim Changmin who didn’t understand why pain and hurt made his cock twitch and
leak and why he always came back to Jaejoong.
 
He comes with a loud groan, pumping Changmin’s mouth full of his load, and
Changmin seems to come back to life, sputtering and pulling back. This time,
Jaejoong lets go of his grip on Changmin’s hair and sees the boy almost throw
himself to the other side of the bed, staring at Jaejoong with brows drawn
together in sheer hatred.
 
There’s a line of come from the corner of his mouth to his chin and Jaejoong
leans forward, ignoring Changmin’s flinch, to wipe it off with his thumb and
then lick it off. ‘Indirect kiss, Changminnie,’ he murmurs with a smile. ‘That
was so good.’
 
‘You – I couldn’t breathe – ’ rasps Changmin instead, his throat sore and
fucked-out.
 
‘Oh Changminnie,’ sighs Jaejoong as if he’s disappointed in him, ‘you liked
it.’
 
Changmin doesn’t reply and Jaejoong can almost taste the self-loathing roiling
in the pit of Changmin’s stomach, amidst the acidity of his confusion and his
own twitching cock, how choking on dick made him feel like he was sinking into
somewhere where his head was all white-noise and nothing could hurt him. Oh,
they were definitely meant to be – precious, darling, submissive Changmin and
his toying, dominating hyung.
 
‘Need me to help clean up?’ offers Jaejoong with a smile, and gets the expected
shake of Changmin’s head.
 
In five minutes, Changmin has scrubbed off the come and spit from his body
using Jaejoong’s shirt like a last ‘fuck you, hyung’ before he’s dressed back
in his pajamas and leaving Jaejoong’s room without a single look back.
 
So independent, thinks Jaejoong, falling back against the bed, one leg raised
so he can feel his ass and how Changmin’s come leaks out of him slowly. So
fucking breakable.
 
-
 
Yoochun asks him about it one day.
 
‘Are you… doing something with Changmin-ah?’ he says as Jaejoong catnaps with
his head in Yoochun’s lap, splayed along the couch.
 
‘Doin’ what, Chunnie?’
 
Yoochun hesitates. ‘Something Changmin doesn’t want?’
 
Jaejoong slowly opens his eyes, throwing a reassuring grin to Yoochun. ‘God –
I’m not amonster. We don’t do anything – and even if we did, why would it be
something he doesn’t like? I adore Changmin.’
 
‘Jaejoong,’ murmurs Yoochun, clearly disbelieving. ‘Don’t fuck it up.’
 
The smile slips from Jaejoong’s mouth and he watches Yoochun’s face peering
down at him. ‘I’m just teaching Changmin a few things. From hyung to maknae.’
 
Eventually, even Yoochun must relent. ‘Okay,’ he says, stroking Jaejoong’s
hair, before smiling, ‘so have you studied for our driver’s license yet?’
 
‘Fuck off!’ groans Jaejoong, burying his face in Yoochun’s stomach.
 
-
 
Three things change in the following year.
 
The first – Yunho gets his veneers taken off and resumes life as a slightly-
easier-but-no-less-of-a-hard-ass leader, which is a relief. It also makes him
more relaxed for whenever Jaejoong smacks Changmin in the arm for fucking
something up – either as a joke or serious. And – glorious, happy Yunho –
doesn’t interfere when Changmin punches back, anger in his young eyes.
 
The courage that losing your virginity could give you, muses Jaejoong as he
rubs the bruise on his bicep later that day. Soon, it becomes just a band
quirk, a DBSK quirk – old but childish hyung Jaejoong and short-tempered,
snarking maknae Changmin who shower each other in a flurry of physical violence
for no apparent reason.
 
‘It’s a sign of love,’ sneers Jaejoong at the camera, lying delightedly through
his teeth, and Changmin follows up with it, unable to show any weakness, not
even in this petty competition.
 
‘The harder we hit, the more we love,’ he adds, and accepts the arm Jaejoong
throws around his neck, almost choking him. Oh, but Changmin loves it – so so
much, no matter how much he tries to push it down and deny it.
 
The second – the one and only time they risk fucking up and getting noticed is
when Changmin is sleeping in the van and Yunho asks Jaejoong to go wake him up
and get him inside the building soon.
 
It’s the image of Changmin, with his child’s face, his long lashes and rosy
cheeks and plush mouth, sleeping peacefully against the backseat of the van
that cripples Jaejoong’s self-restraint. He wants it – so fucking bad. The urge
to drip the black of wrong-bad-awful things on Changmin’s white life, a
Rorschach inkblot painting of sin all over him.
 
He leans forward and doesn’t even breathe when he presses his mouth against
Changmin’s, stealing away his first and only kiss, Yunho’s kiss.
 
Immediately, Changmin’s eyes fly open, jerking back even against the seat, and
Jaejoong pulls away quick before Changmin can blacken his eye. ‘Good morning,
Changminnie.’
 
‘You – you – ’ gapes Changmin, sliding the pads of his fingers over his mouth.
‘You fucking bastard.’ His voice quivers in his throat. ‘That wasn’t for you.’
 
‘We’re waiting in the building next door, by the way,’ says Jaejoong, ignoring
the words. ‘Hurry up.’
 
‘Jaejoong,’ snarls Changmin and his eyes areshining as if that kiss was so
precious to him. As if he’s been kissed by the plague, by the devil. Jaejoong
laughs breathlessly in excitement and watches as Changmin scrambles out of his
seat to get the fuck away from Jaejoong.
 
What Jaejoong doesn’t expect is that three minutes later, the rest of the band
escorting a crying Changmin back to the van, and Yunho turning an expectant
stare at Jaejoong.
 
‘He’s been saying you kissed him, Jaejoong.’
 
Jaejoong’s eyes flash towards Changmin, who has buried his face in his hands
and gulping down air before gasping it out in some ugly silent form of crying.
So he told.
 
‘He was just so cute,’ pouts Jaejoong, sliding on his mask of charm, the one
that he knows makes Yunho give in. ‘Not anymore – but you should’ve seen him,
Yunho.’
 
‘Well,’ sighs Yunho, lips thinning out as he looks at the hiccupping Changmin
next to Junsu. ‘It’s too late now. Just. Don’t do it again.’
 
‘Of course. Why would I?’ Out of the corner of his eye, Yoochun is watching him
and Jaejoong forces another smile. ‘So I guess we’re going back to the dorms
then?’
 
‘Manager’s coming soon. Can’t do anything right now except take care of
Changdol,’ replies Yunho before he hustles them into their seats and curls
beside Changmin, petting the boy’s hair until he falls asleep on Yunho’s
shoulder.
 
See? It was good for something, Jaejoong wants to say, but he just turns back
in his own seat and looks out the window.
 
Two days later, Jaejoong corners Changmin alone in the kitchen, caging him
against the counter, his face smoothed out to cold anger, and Changmin freezes
instantly, meeting the gaze with his jaw clenched tight, fear leaking out of
him to the point that Jaejoong feels like he could taste it on his tongue,
swallow it down like a fine drink.
 
‘Are you going to tell Yunho about us? The rest of them?’ asks Jaejoong, deadly
serious.
 
Changmin swallows. ‘No.’
 
‘Then don’t be so fucking weak next time,’ and Jaejoong is surging forward, a
hand on Changmin’s cheek, holding his face still with his strength, feeling how
Changmin tries to pull away but he can’t. Pathetic, small Changmin.
 
Without another noise, Jaejoong tips his head forward and kisses Changmin
again, featherlight and soft, and Changmin exhales slowly, not giving in. Not
yet.
 
The third – and most important thing – is that Jaejoong doesn’t fuck Changmin
until he’s seventeen. In the meantime, he does everything else while Yunho goes
out with his anonymous string of girlfriends and boyfriends, comes home reeking
of sex, with marks on his skin if his shirt slips up too high or Junsu makes a
comment on it.
 
It’s not just Yunho – Yoochun and Junsu date and fuck, keep it private,
intensely aware of the cameras around them at all times as they make their
discretions as quiet as possible. Sometimes Yoochun will ask him curiously why
Jaejoong hasn’t fucked anyone in the past few months, or dated for that matter,
and Jaejoong shrugs.
 
‘I just don’t feel like it,’ he says, as if his libido isn’t sated by having
Changmin laid out on his sheets, his skin marked up in red bite marks and nail
scratches, his cock an arched, leaking symbol of his desire even when he spits
out curses with his moans and gasps.
 
He lets Changmin fuck him on his knees once more, filling him with ropes of
come that will leak out as the day goes by, slink down the inside of Jaejoong’s
thigh as a shivering reminder of who he’s ruining inside out.
 
One night, when Yoochun and Junsu are attending a party and Yunho might be
asleep in the room next door – Jaejoong’s not sure but he doesn’t care –
Jaejoong rides Changmin. It’s wonderfully worth it when Changmin looks up at
him with a mixture of lust and wonderment as Jaejoong fucks himself onto the
boy’s cock till Changmin comes with a loud gasp – edging to a wail. Jaejoong
stuff two fingers into Changmin’s mouth, muffling him, as he feels his ass milk
Changmin’s cock, twisting his hips to savour how the come feels inside of him.
 
Changmin is whimpering around his fingers, as if Jaejoong can’t hear him, and
he pretends he doesn’t, keeps rocking onto the soft length. Not a few minutes
later, and Changmin’s eyes are shut with overstimulation as his cock gets hard
again – youth’s advantages. So Jaejoong rides him once more – the pleasure
edging on painful for Changmin – until he feels himself pumped full of warm
semen again, but this time he’s stroking himself and comes all over Changmin’s
concave stomach, complimenting the lines of Changmin’s heaving rib cage as the
boy tries to catch his breath.
 
It takes three more times of Jaejoong not coming when Changmin fucks him,
leaving bruises on Changmin’s skin as he manhandles the other, before Changmin
learns to get on his knees in advance. After all, Jaejoong’s favourite past-
time if he doesn’t come is to use Changmin’s mouth for it. Even voluntarily on
his knees, Changmin pretends he hates it, with drool all down his chin, glaring
up through dampened lashes at Jaejoong, who grips his hair.
 
Jaejoong smiles down at him, hips fucking into Changmin’s mouth, sighing, ‘yeah
– fuck, your mouth is only good for one thing, Changminnie,’ and he pulls
Changmin close, feels the boy’s throat flutter deliciously over Jaejoong’s
cockhead, ‘and it’s sure as fuck not kissing.’
 
Changmin leaves claw marks from his nails over Jaejoong’s hips in retaliation
as he sucks his dick like a good slut, inhaling sharply from his nose as he
works to make Jaejoong come as soon as possible and end this. Eventually,
Changmin will give in, and that’s Jaejoong’s favourite part – when the lack of
air gets Changmin light-headed, his eyes going half-lidded as he sinks into
himself, transforming into a wet hole for Jaejoong to fuck and use up.
 
It’s obvious that Changmin doesn’t know what’s happening to him, why he gives
in to the pain and hurt, his jaw aching as he licks all down the underside of
Jaejoong’s dick, drinking the precome like ambrosia. It’s times like these that
Jaejoong appreciates the learning curve of the youth, how quickly they can
catch on.
 
‘Take it,’ groans Jaejoong as he keeps grinding his dick in the wet mouth,
fingers threading through Changmin’s hair, seeing the dazed, spaced out look on
the boy’s face, and it’s enough for Jaejoong to blow his load, ‘such a gorgeous
fucking slut.’
 
True to word, Changmin drinks it all down and pulls off Jaejoong’s cock, his
consciousness swimming back to the surface behind his eyes, his mouth puffed
and swollen, tear streaks down his cheeks, hair stuck to his skin with sweat,
his collarbone jutting out as he gasps for air, reviving himself.
 
‘So fucking beautiful,’ smiles Jaejoong, cupping Changmin’s cheekbone and
brushing his thumb over the arch, until Changmin shudders violently and
realizes what he’s done, what he’s given in to.
 
With a jerk, Changmin pulls away and wipes at his mouth, glaring at him. ‘Fuck
off.’
 
With a dismissal like that, Jaejoong shrugs, pulling back on his clothes and
watching the cold air wrap itself around Changmin’s white bone body. Idly, he
wonders if Changmin feels a little cold, a little lonely, craving for a love
that he knows he will never have. It makes Jaejoong want to coo, and push
Changmin against the sheets with a hand around that fragile throat.
 
Instead, he closes the door to Changmin’s room behind him and goes to find the
shower.
 
-
 
For a little while, Jaejoong backs off as he thinks of all the ways he’s going
to fuck little Shim Changmin until the boy’s sobbing against his bed. Yoochun
gladly invites him to parties and figuring out their driver’s licenses –
they’ve only failed the tests twice now, there’s still a chance.
 
Jaejoong asks the stylists to pierce his ears up along the cartilage and shows
off his new tattoos to Junsu in the kitchen after they’ve healed. Of course,
Junsu laughs at him, fingers tracing the words against Jaejoong’s shoulder
blades as the cold air tickles his bare skin.
 
Yunho walks in on them, as does Changmin, and Jaejoong arches his back,
preening under this new attention. ‘Do you like it?’
 
‘Where’s our names?’ asks Yunho with a laugh, tucking himself against Junsu’s
back and reaching out to trace their band name – T V f X Q – emblazoned on the
skin in fancy English lettering.
 
‘There’s five letters isn’t there?’ snaps Jaejoong.
 
Junsu glances over at Changmin, who is standing a bit aways, watching from a
distance. ‘Jaejoong’s turning into one of those J-rock guys that you guys
listen to, isn’t he?’
 
Changmin blinks, then gives a belated nod. ‘Wasn’t he always?’
 
It makes Junsu burst into laughter, and Jaejoong pouts at him, turning around.
Suddenly he feels the touch of warm fingers against his chest and Yunho is
tracing over the slogan inscribed across his pectoral. Always keep the faith.
Immediately, Jaejoong stills, savours the rough pads of Yunho’s fingers and how
delicately they press and flutter away before Yunho’s smiling at him widely.
‘They’re really well done.’
 
‘Yoochun found the artist,’ says Jaejoong, remembering that said friend has
gone out on a date today. ‘Do you want one?’ Junsu waves his hand and Yunho
shakes his head, so Jaejoong’s eyes land on Changmin, on how the boy is
watching Yunho’s fingers and where they go before his gaze flickers up to look
at Jaejoong himself. ‘Changminnie?’
 
‘No,’ replies Changmin almost immediately, before turning on his heel and
walking away.
 
Later, Changmin fucks Jaejoong, with Jaejoong on his back, and he scrapes his
nails down Changmin’s chest, a smile on his mouth.
 
‘It hurts – the – ungh – needle,’ he says, moving his hips to Changmin’s
thrusts, proud at how much Changmin has improved these past couple of months.
‘Stings, pain jabbing at your skin, fuck.’ Changmin’s eyes are focused on
Jaejoong’s hole, how it swallows his cock in one smooth movement, but they
flash up when Jaejoong speaks, sliding to the inscription on his chest.
 
‘You’d – ah – like it,’ sing-songs Jaejoong, ‘every inch of your skin hurting –
ahn, yeah – all that pain.’ Changmin doesn’t reply, but Jaejoong feels the
tightening of the boy’s fingers on his hips, how he tries to push his cock
deeper inside. ‘Fuck me on my knees, Changminnie.’
 
And sweet Changmin obeys, pulling out his hard cock and letting Jaejoong get
into position before sliding back inside in a hard, unrelenting thrust.
Jaejoong pitches forward with an exhale of surprise before his shoulder blades
are pushing back along with his ass, trying to get Changmin inside of him as
deep as he can. ‘God – put your hand on my back.’
 
Changmin makes a strangled noise, wrenching one hand off Jaejoong’s hips in
order to slap his fingers on Jaejoong’s spine, palm pushing against the TVfXQ
so hard that the soreness strikes deep into Jaejoong’s arousal – ‘It hurts so
fucking good,’ he moans, ‘makes you fuckingforget everything – hah – don’t you
want it, Changmin-aaahhh – ’
 
He doesn’t get verbal answer but Changmin sobs out loud, unable to keep it in,
not when he knows the feeling Jaejoong is describing, the one that he tries to
keep away from when they fuck. His hand keeps pressing against Jaejoong’s back,
the other one digging his nails deep within Jaejoong’s hip, as his thrusts get
harsher, more erratic, losing that practiced rhythm from before.
 
Jaejoong would be disappointed if he wasn’t so fucking aroused with this –
feeling the way Changmin gives in, even against his will. How subspace
threatens to creep in from the corner of his vision and make him sink into
himself, and he won’t be able to think anymore – just fuck hard and deep into
Jaejoong’s ass, to make Jaejoong come, all of it for Jaejoong.
 
‘Such a good boy,’ groans Jaejoong, one hand jerking himself off to Changmin’s
bucking hips. ‘Good fucking boy.’
 
The compliment gets a guttural cry and Changmin grinds harshly up against
Jaejoong’s hole, andoh – Jaejoong has trained him in this so fucking well since
he’s already creaming himself. Changmin follows just as quick, pumping Jaejoong
full of warm come, Changmin’s forehead pressed in the space between Jaejoong’s
shoulder blades as he tries to catch his breath.
 
‘I’m not,’ says Changmin, voice wrecked, ‘I fucking hate people with too many
tattoos and piercings.’
 
He pulls out, and Jaejoong clenches his ass to feel the come inside of him,
feeling lazy and sated. ‘Lucky me.’
 
In a practiced rush, Changmin wipes himself down with one of Jaejoong’s clothes
and leaves.
 
-
 
Finally, Changmin turns seventeen.
 
It takes two months after that to hear Yoochun and Yunho go out, and Junsu also
disappearing an hour later. Jaejoong is cooking dinner for himself in the
kitchen when Changmin comes home, kicking off his shoes.
 
Jaejoong waits for a beat, then hears Changmin sigh and arrange his shoes
precisely, having gotten in enough screaming matches with Jaejoong over
cleanliness for the past two years to last a lifetime.
 
‘Welcome home,’ mentions Jaejoong when Changmin finally walks through the
kitchen, taking off his coat.
 
‘Mm,’ hums Changmin, before Jaejoong calls out:
 
‘I want you to try this.’
 
Always eager for food and comfortable in the false knowledge that there are
others home so Jaejoong won’t touch him, Changmin turns around and heads back
to the stove, obediently opening his mouth for the piece Jaejoong is holding
with chopsticks.
 
He chews, swallows, and nods his approval. ‘S’good.’
 
‘Do you want some?’
 
A pause. ‘Sure.’
 
Jaejoong turns back to his food and lets Changmin go. Eventually, Changmin will
realize they’re home alone, and maybe regret not spending more time with
Kyuhyun earlier. For now Jaejoong waits, turning off the burner and getting out
a large plate.
 
Changmin doesn’t say a word about the fact that no one else is here throughout
the meal as they sit together at the table and eat. Jaejoong lets him wallow in
his own wariness, because Changmin knows what’s coming now, it shouldn’t be a
surprise.
 
Perhaps today is a surprise, of course. Jaejoong busies himself with dishes
after the meal and Changmin’s muffled, ‘thanks’, listening to how Changmin’s
footsteps pad away. The anticipation rises within him, becomes electric. He
rinses off the plates and chopsticks as fast as he can before heading to his
own room.
 
A minute later, Jaejoong is knocking against the door to Changmin’s bed, asking
permission.
 
He can taste Changmin’s arousal and fear slink through the crack under the
door. Jaejoong bites the inside of his cheek to muffle his laugh.
 
‘Jaejoong-hyung,’ says Changmin from inside, and his voice wavers just once,
just enough. Jaejoong can’t wait any longer and he opens the door and doesn’t
even bother closing it when he faces Changmin, who is already standing,
shoulders tense, expression wary.
 
‘Changminnie, it’s time to pay up,’ says Jaejoong, hands stuffed in the pockets
of his jeans, meeting his gaze with no effort to hide the predatory lust he
feels, how he can’t wait to sink his teeth into Changmin’s pretty, pale skin
and break the bones of his innocence once and for all.
 
‘Thought you forgot,’ mentions Changmin, who seems suddenly so frail and
uncertain in the afternoon light.
 
‘You promised,’ pouts Jaejoong, taking one step forward, then another. Changmin
swallows and takes one step back. The only one he can, as his leg hits the edge
of the bed and he’s gasping in surprise.
 
Jaejoong hones in with precision, pressing a hand to Changmin’s chest to tip
him back. With a muffled thud, Changmin lands on his ass against the covers,
and Jaejoong straddles him with a smooth movement.
 
Involuntarily, Changmin’s hands fit themselves around Jaejoong’s hips, his eyes
wide as Jaejoong cups Changmin’s cheeks and kisses his mouth softly. Jaejoong
can feel Changmin’s breath rush out in a sharp exhale, his entire body going
tight in tension when Jaejoong nibbles at Changmin’s bottom lip, sliding the
tip of his tongue along the seam. When Changmin refuses to reciprocate,
Jaejoong pulls away and frowns, ‘don’t want to kiss your hyung?’
 
‘Get off me,’ tries Changmin, but his voice is shaky and his cock half-hard
underneath Jaejoong’s ass.
 
‘You’re always so easy to read,’ he titters, sliding a hand down Changmin’s
neck and torso to wrench the hem of his shirt upwards. ‘I know you,
Changminnie.’ His other hand takes the hem as well and he’s forcibly pulling
upwards, until Changmin gives in with another audible swallow, lifting his arms
to be shed of his clothes.
 
Jaejoong follows through and strips off his own shirt before standing up and
kicking off his pants and underwear, his cock still soft but twitching as the
image of debauching Changmin filters into his brain.
 
On the bed, Changmin clenches his jaw, then unbuckles his own pants,
determination in his eyes to get this over with as fast as he can. He doesn’t
know when the others will be back and he’s correct in assuming that Jaejoong
won’t stop if one of them does. Always so practical, thinks Jaejoong with a
smile.
 
When they’re both naked, Jaejoong fishes out the lube from the back of his
jean’s pocket, the one he took from his own room, and pushes Changmin so that
he’s on his back, knees hanging off the edge.
 
‘How do you want it, Changminnie?’ hums Jaejoong, ‘I’ll give you a choice. It
is your first time.’
 
Changmin stares up at him, hands at either side, nails curled into the
bedspread. ‘Where I don’t have to look at you,’ he replies eventually.
 
‘Hands and knees, then.’ Jaejoong slaps Changmin’s thigh, savours the yelp, and
nudges him so that Changmin is facing the headboard, his fingers clutching the
softness of his pillow while he exposes his ass to the air like the fucking
slut that he is.
 
Jaejoong gets behind him, smoothing both hands up the back of the other’s
thighs, staring at the brush of dark hair and Changmin’s tight ass, how hot it
was going to be and how good it was going to feel all around Jaejoong’s cock.
 
He tips forward, kisses Changmin’s ass cheek before flicking his tongue against
the rim of his entrance and Changmin makes a strangled noise in the back of his
throat at the sensation.  Gorgeous, virgin Changminnie.
 
Changmin makes more sweet noises as Jaejoong rims him, getting his entrance so
fucking wet with his spit, hoping he can hear the lewd, filthy noises of
Jaejoong’s tongue in his ass, trying to fuck him. He wonders when Changmin will
return the favour – when his tongue will hesitate and flicker over Jaejoong as
Jaejoong tells him to eat out his own leaking come, but maybe not in this
lifetime.
 
Still, Jaejoong works him open enough to slide his finger in there without
lube, and Changmin buries his face into the pillow to muffle his noises, thighs
shaking. ‘Does it burn?’ croons Jaejoong, ‘Can you imagine what it’s going to
feel like when I stretch you?’
 
He doesn’t get a reply but he doesn’t expect one. Grabbing the lube, Jaejoong
slicks up two fingers and stretches Changmin’s hole a little bit further,
knowing exactly how the burn slides its way up Changmin’s neurons, whiting out
his thoughts with feeling.
 
‘Haaa – ’ exhales Changmin, his voice pitching too high, when Jaejoong finally
slides the third one in. As far as preparation goes, Jaejoong feels like he’s
done a good job when he stares at Changmin’s hole all red and wet and open for
him. It flutters whenever Jaejoong fucks into it with his hand, and Jaejoong
can’t help but lick at it, taste the lube and salt of Changmin’s sweat, how
he’s going to fucking ruin him from the inside out.
 
‘Ready, Changminnie?’ asks Jaejoong, laughter in his throat, ‘I’m going to make
yousing for me.’
 
With that, he notches the head of his cock against Changmin’s hole and pushes
in without stopping, wanting Changmin to feel it, to remember the goddamn pain
and fuckinghurt that ripples through his body as Jaejoong seats himself in one
complete movement.
 
Changmin throws his head back and wails – every vein in his throat visible as
his voice reaches to the rafters, so long andloud that Jaejoong can’t even
breathe with how beautiful it tastes on his tongue. All of Changmin’s arousal
strung with pain and how much he fucking loved it all for his hissing to the
contrary.
 
‘Oh, Changmin,’ exhales Jaejoong, entranced, before pulling out and fucking
back into him.
 
‘Ah – !’ Changmin sobs, blinking back his tears, staring up at the ceiling, and
Jaejoong doesn’t stop fucking into him. ‘Ah – ah – ah – !’
 
His entire body is vibrating, shaking with how much it fucking hurts and how
overwhelming it all is – but Jaejoong isn’t merciful. He fucks into Changmin
hard and fast, doesn’t let the other adjust when he can savour this fluttering
tightness, how hot and perfect Changmin’s ass fits around him, how much the
pain is making Changmin’s cock drool a goddamn puddle of precome on the sheets
without a single touch to it from Jaejoong’s hand.
 
Oh, he knew – he always fucking knew – how easy it would be to break Changmin.
Changmin scrabbles for a grip on the sheets as Jaejoong reams into him, his
mouth dripping filthy things into the boy’s ear, ‘it feels so good, your ass
swallowing me up. God, so greedy for it, aren’t you? Want my cock that bad?’
 
‘No – ahn – ha – !’ says Changmin, but he’s crying and his voice is wrecked,
his eyes so wide as his body takes in Jaejoong’s cock, clenching down as if it
never wants Jaejoong to leave. God, it felt so fucking good to do this to him –
to take it all away, his cock and mouth and ass all belonging to Jaejoong.
 
‘Take it, my pretty little slut,’ encourages Jaejoong, chest draped along
Changmin’s back, hips snapping hard into the ass, so that the room is filled
with the sound of skin on skin to complement Changmin’s pathetic, whimpering
noises as he tries so hard not to enjoy this. ‘You love the pain, I know you
do.’
 
Changmin jerks his head, his face flushed and angry and humiliated as his body
rolls to Jaejoong’s hips, feeling Jaejoong fuck him open with all the hurt and
ache climbing through his nerves to pool into his belly with his arousal.
Jaejoong keeps fucking, keeps rocking hard into him, and one of his hands
reaches around Changmin’s body to brush his fingers along the shaft of
Changmin’s leaking, slender cock.
 
‘Fuck!’ calls out Changmin, helpless to the sensations that flood through him,
hips bucking into the touch. Jaejoong smiles and grasps his cock, stroking him
off as he fucks him hard, unrelenting, and Changmin writhes, unable to even
breathe.
 
‘Take it, fucking take it,’ snarls Jaejoong, his own arousal ramping up at the
sight of Changmin – his voice so stretched and high as his keening mounts
upwards with how good Jaejoong jerks him off, how deep Jaejoong screws into
him.
 
‘Hyu-ung,’ moans Changmin, his voice breaking, and Jaejoong wonders if it’s a
beg to keep going or to stop and figures even Changmin doesn’t know when his
expression goes slack as he gives in. The pleasure and pain are fusing within
him, driving him further and further to his orgasm, and Jaejoong can feel
Changmin shivering with acceptance, his mind sinking into himself.
 
Changmin is still young – still seventeen and new to everything – and so
Jaejoong gets him to orgasm quick enough with a thumbnail digging into
Changmin’s cockhead as Jaejoong does a grind right deep into Changmin’s ass,
feeling how he scrapes against Changmin’s prostate and makes the boy arch.
 
‘Haaa – !’ Changmin is shaking, crying, losing his mind, every part of him
pliant and willing for Jaejoong to use up for his own pleasure, and Jaejoong
laughs out loud as he fucks, his voice echoing with Changmin’s sobs, until –
finally – Changmin goes hot and tight around him, ass fluttering as his cock
twitches and stripes Jaejoong’s hand with come, ropes and ropes of it, his
voice wailing that sweet high note that Jaejoong will never get tired of
hearing.
 
‘Oh, Changminnie,’ sighs out Jaejoong, ‘this is the hardest you’ve come yet,’
and he reams into Changmin’s tight heat until he’s close, ruthless and
unforgiving, making sure that Changmin will be sore for the rest of the week,
that every bruise on his hips will remind him of what he did, what he gave to
Jaejoong – the last of his innocence, all so sweet on Jaejoong’s tongue.
 
He pumps Changmin full of his semen, groaning, before pulling out and seeing
Changmin’s eyes flutter close in a wince as his body gives up without Jaejoong
holding him in position anymore. Jaejoong watches as Changmin collapses in on
his stomach, into his own pile of cooling come, the diamonds of his sweat
glittering all along his untouched back. Jaejoong will change that, of course.
Soon.
 
For now, he’s satisfied with this. With Changmin’s virginity – be it cock, or
mouth, or ass. Jaejoong has it all, has taken it all, and broken Changmin so
completely that Changmin will have no choice but to come back to him from now
on.
 
‘OnlyI can give this to you,’ reminds Jaejoong softly, whispering into
Changmin’s ear, mouth brushing against the cartilage. ‘Only Jaejoong-hyung.’
 
Changmin shivers and jerks, still swooning in subspace, eyes bleary when they
blink to take in the image of Jaejoong in all his flushed skin and mussed hair
and gentle, plush mouth curved into a proud smile.
 
‘Go to sleep now,’ Jaejoong murmurs as he tilts his head to kiss Changmin’s
pliant mouth, and Changmin presses back – just for a moment – before he passes
out with a soft exhale. So Jaejoong dresses, throws a blanket over Changmin’s
debauched form, and leaves with a smile on his face.
 
-
 
A few days later, the band finds itself in one of the recording studios at SM,
lyric sheets printed and handed out to them all. The vocal coach leads them
through the chord progressions and mentions a few places where there would be
adlibs to record.
 
Jaejoong reads it over once, twice, and feels the sweet taste in his mouth
again. The same taste he got from fucking Changmin open, leaving the boy sore
and closed into himself for the past week.
 
‘I want the high notes to go to Changmin,’ he mentions, and the vocal coach
pauses in her instructions, blinking at Jaejoong.
 
‘Can Changmin...’ she trails off and looks at the boy standing next to Yunho.
‘Can you do it?’
 
Changmin looks surprised and touches his throat self-consciously before he
nods, a glint in his eye, seemingly determined to at least try. Jaejoong raises
his hand again, catching the coach’s attention. ‘Let me try a few test notes
with Changmin in the booth.’
 
‘Sure.’
 
With that, Changmin goes behind the plexiglass window, headphones around his
swan neck, with Jaejoong following behind him. In front of the window, Yoochun,
Yunho, and Junsu sit on the couch, the vocal coach asking them to read and
memorize their designated lines, before she’s turning to the switchboard and
hooking on her own headphones over her ears.
 
‘Okay, Jaejoong-sshi, I want to hear you sing up as high as you can, but don’t
stress.’ Jaejoong picks a note, holds it, and lets it slide its way upwards
like a fishing line, tugging his head back and his throat working to let it
finish breathlessly after a few seconds.
 
The coach nods approvingly and looks at Changmin, who seems fixated on the
microphone in front of him, his gaze focused. Jaejoong steps directly behind
Changmin, head tipping forward to murmur in the boy’s ear as he adjusted the
microphone to his height.
 
‘Remember how you sang for me, Changminnie?’
 
A shiver wracks its way down Changmin’s spine and he swallows. ‘Yes.’ It was
going to take a century and a half for Changmin to forget, Jaejoong thinks.
 
Instead of replying, Jaejoong’s fingers skitter down the length of Changmin’s
back, hidden from view, and dips them under the waistband of Changmin’s jeans
to feel the curve of the boy’s spinal dips. ‘I want you to do that same thing.’
 
‘Hyung,’ says Changmin, half-warning, half-arousal, all hate. Jaejoong ignores
him, presses his hand further down Changmin’s pants, the pads of his fingers
sliding along the crack and flicking at the flushed rim of Changmin’s hole. It
earns a strangled gasp that Changmin tries to muffle by biting his bottom lip.
 
‘Are you ready?’ calls out the coach, who can’t see Jaejoong’s arm behind
Changmin, what Jaejoong is doing to him – an endless but necessary torture.
 
‘Yeah,’ Changmin calls out, his voice a little shaky. He clears his throat and
peers at the microphone, waiting for instruction.
 
‘Go ahead – same as Jaejoong-sshi.’
 
Changmin inhales and then belts out a note – not exactly low but not high
either, but he lets it build upwards, until Jaejoong twists his hand and slides
in his middle finger dry and deep inside of Changmin’s ass. Immediately,
Changmin’s voice cuts off with a high-pitched whimper.
 
Jaejoong smiles and pulls away entirely. ‘C’mon – I know you remember, you can
do it.’
 
The vocal coach scrunches up her eyebrows, and watches as Jaejoong exits the
booth entirely, taking position next to the coach to watch Changmin. Changmin
swallows, ‘can I try again?’
 
‘Sure,’ accedes the coach, ‘go ahead.’
 
He takes a moment to breathe before everything goes irrelevant around him.
Jaejoong watches – entranced and proud – as Changmin’s voice climbs, lifts,
hits a peak that has Jaejoong’s heart in his throat as the veins in Changmin’s
neck strain like he’s being fucked again, on his own bedsheets, the pain and
pleasure all synergized within him to create the most gorgeously pitched note.
 
Suddenly, Changmin cuts off with a gasp, running out of air, but the vocal
coach’s eyes are wide and impressed. Behind Jaejoong, there are stunned murmurs
from Junsu, Yoochun, and Yunho as they watch their maknae rub at his vocal
cords, breathing hard.
 
‘We’ll need to practice on that,’ the coach mentions. ‘But you definitely get
the part.’
 
Later, Jaejoong won’t have to fuck Changmin to hear it – those second-long
wails backed with music, always a reminder as to when Changmin first got it,
first found it within himself.
 
Months afterwards, without any of them really noticing, Changmin’s scream
becomes a trademark of their band, and as greedy as Jaejoong is, he loves that
everyone else adores Changmin’s voice like he does. There is a stark difference
of course – and it’s the one that keeps Jaejoong pleased – the world will never
have that lovely note the way Jaejoong does.
 
-
 
There is, of course, the rest of the band to contend with after Jaejoong fucks
Changmin, but they’re not a particular problem to him. His behaviour is always
the same – he smokes, he drinks, he goes out with Yoochun to parties and kisses
all the beautiful people in the room (who will never be as beautiful as him, as
beautiful as a small boy on cheap sheets with bruises over his skin).
 
He expects Yunho to pick up on it, so he keeps their leader distracted. It
wouldn’t do for Yunho to notice how little Changminnie was handling himself
these days – his moods swinging between sharp and playful to introverted and
sullen. How Changmin still pined for Yunho, but had to settle with the one that
Yunho always looked at instead.
 
Yoochun, of course, had tuned into it immediately the day after Jaejoong fucked
the boy and rounded on Jaejoong – disbelieving and confused. ‘I thought you had
stopped messing with him, hyung.’
 
‘Yoochunnie, what do you think we’re doing?’ asks Jaejoong as if genuinely
curious because Changmin hides his soreness and injuries oh-so-well.
 
‘I don’t know,’ admits Yoochun, brows creased in worry, ‘but he’s obviously not
taking it well. Jaejoong, he’s a child,’ and – god – Jaejoong loves Yoochun so
much for this. How Yoochun can’t even imagine what Jaejoong does to Changmin,
because it’s wrong and horribly cruel, and Yoochun would never put that blame
on his best friend.
 
Instead, Jaejoong curls his arms around Yoochun’s waist, tucking himself into
the other’s neck. ‘I promise I’m not hurting him – you can even ask Changmin.
He’d tell you the same.’
 
Because Changmin would, because Changmin hates seeming weak and insecure, as if
he can’t completely take care of himself, pushing himself away from his hyungs
to stand on his own two feet too soon and too fast.
 
As for Junsu – Jaejoong has a sneaking suspicion that Junsu knowssomething,
he’s always been more in tune with those around him. Similar to Jaejoong in the
way that he can read a room and know what people want before they even say it.
Still, he treats Changmin no different from before, and Changminclings to that
like it’s a lighthouse in the storm of his own roiling self-hatred and
bewilderment.
 
Publically, Jaejoong varies. He is kind on some days and mean on others. He
isn’t afraid to hit Changmin, even if a camera is close, if the boy is being
obnoxious, and he sometimes feeds Changmin food, gives him water, calls his
name and beckons him closer.
 
Of course, Changmin obeys – cute, snarking maknae that he is – and sometimes he
even laughs, lets a smile appear, eats Jaejoong’s food with a hum of pleasure
that can’t help but slip from his throat.
 
Jaejoong doesn’t know how the boy does it – with these conflicting identities
pressing against each other. Changmin who can throw a punch and embrace
Jaejoong lined up against a Changmin who has retreated within himself after
Jaejoong carves him open against the sheets. There are too many facets –
fortunately, Jaejoong can read them all.
 
It’s called cognitive dissonance, Jaejoong will learn later. If there is pain,
if it is hard to get yourself somewhere, and the result is not what you expect
it to be, then you justify it to yourself. You lie and say this outcome – this
underwhelming result which belies bitter disappointment – is much better than
it seems.
 
Changmin looks at Jaejoong and searches for a sign of affection, that he is in
this because Jaejoong wants him, some weird powerplay where Changmin is in
control, not the other way around.
 
He tells himself that Jaejoong’s rare signs of affection, of touches that don’t
end in bruises and hurt, of his voice saying, ‘Changmin? Where’s Changminnie?’
are proof that Jaejoong must care for him, must love him. That what Jaejoong
has done to him is due to an investment in Changmin’s life and a need to be
ingrained as deep within as Changmin will let him.
 
What Changmin doesn’t understand is that if you want to keep playing with a
toy, you must make sure not to break it.
 
So Jaejoong is nice, kind, and drinks in Changmin’s genuine flashes of wide-
eyed efforts to reciprocate this imagined affection as he falls horribly into
his own deception. Maybe, in some other life, should Changmin had not exuded
such lamb-like innocence, if he didn’t wade in an ocean of his own
insecurities, if they had both not met Yunho and his perfection, if there was
no DBSK – maybe, Jaejoong wants to say, maybe I would have loved you.
 
For now, Changmin is a plaything, and he belongs to Jaejoong’s. Jaejoong will
take this unfinished, broken, twig-wristed thing and transform him. If Changmin
pretends on love, that is his own weakness.
 
-
 
There is no love to how they fuck. But there is need and there is satisfaction.
 
The second time they fuck, Jaejoong leaves long scratches all the way down
Changmin’s ribs and holds the boy’s arms in his hands until they bruise.
Changmin spits and snarls, as if his cock isn’t red and arcing towards his
navel from the pain, from the way Jaejoong’s razor-sharp teeth bite down on his
neck after a murmured, ‘hope you like scarves, Changminnie.’
 
Another time, Changmin screams when Jaejoong’s teeth pierces skin, leaves
little droplets of blood like a trail of petals trickling down his brittle
bones. He struggles against Jaejoong’s grip, tries to get away and get more –
his brain unable to understand the difference between pleasure and pain, only
that both sensations have every nerve in his body firing and whiting out his
thoughts.
 
Some other night, Jaejong ties his wrists and fucks him on his back, leaves
finger bruises like ten marks of ownership over the back of Changmin’s thighs
as he pumps his cock deep inside of Changmin. Eventually the rhythm has
Changmin lulling, his eyes half-lidded and brows drawn together, spit streaked
down his chin as he falls for the thrusting of Jaejoong’s body, no matter how
violent it becomes.
 
Jaejoong loves this since it makes Changmin’s hole get all tight and fluttery,
and he makes Changmin come once on his dick, leaving white stripes over his own
stomach, ‘such a fucking slut for it,’ he groans out appreciatively.
 
Changmin can only respond with a slurred moan – ‘ahn, haaaah – !’  – having run
out of expletives with how dazed he is as he falls into himself, so Jaejoong
flips him to his stomach, makes him rub up in his own pile of come before
Jaejoong is reaming back into him, savouring that tight, hot ass.
 
Like this, Jaejoong sees the ripple of muscle all down Changmin’s back, how he
keeps taking Jaejoong’s cock inside of him, to feel that sore, burning stretch
all along his body, even while his flaccid cock valiantly tries to rise again.
 
Eventually it does, and Jaejoong jerks him off again, feeling Changmin arch and
writhe through a second orgasm before Jaejoong pumps him full of his own load,
‘always so good,’ wondering if Changmin thought the warm come in his ass was
also what Jaejoong’s affection felt like.
 
-
 
Sometimes, Jaejoong chokes Changmin.
 
It doesn’t happen as often as Jaejoong would want it too – because it’s a
fucking process to throw Changmin down on his stomach and use a belt to tie his
wrists tied behind his back.
 
‘Fuck you,’ Changmin snarls as Jaejoong grips his hair and pulls him upwards to
kneel, facing the headboard, Jaejoong’s chest pressed along the curved line of
Changmin’s back.
 
‘Says the slut always ready for my cock,’ replies Jaejoong, his dick already
hard at what he’s going to do to Changmin, how he’s going to break him. Instead
of waiting for a reply, Jaejoong hooks his elbow around Changmin’s neck like
how Yunho taught him, and squeezes, crushing Changmin’s windpipe.
 
Immediately, Changmin tries to struggle away, to leave, but it’s all ever so
perfunctory because Jaejoong will hurt him, but not kill him. In the end,
Changmin will always fall for Jaejoong’s wants because it makes a white-encased
bliss sweep over his brain, makes that everlasting noise of despair and self-
disgust fade away for a while.
 
And it doesn’t even take that long for Changmin to go still, to go pliant, as
Jaejoong counts the seconds in his head, measures out how much Changmin can
take so Jaejoong can leave sweet bruises all over his throat and chafe his skin
so he’ll have no choice but to wear collars and turtlenecks for the rest of the
week.
 
When Jaejoong finally lets go, Changmin’s cock is leaking enough precome to
slick itself as the boy teeters forward, his throat working to bring in as much
oxygen as he can to revive his body. Jaejoong sees him shiver and shake, his
wrists straining against the belt.
 
Without waiting, Jaejoong lines up his cock and slams in – dry and hot – and
Changmin’s too breathless to scream properly, letting the sounds get stuck
halfway in his throat as Jaejoong fucks and fucks and fucks him, a hand on the
back of Changmin’s neck, mashing the boy’s face against his pillow to suffocate
him again.
 
‘You love it – ungh – I know you do,’ says Jaejoong into his ear as Changmin
manages to turn his head a little to the side and inhale sharply through his
mouth, ‘you’re so fucking easy to read, y’know – fuck – ’
 
‘Ah, hah, ungh, fuck,’ is all Changmin can manage, his face twisted with hatred
and desire as his hips buck, beginning to meet Jaejoong’s thrusts, craving that
blend of pleasure-pain, wondering if he could come untouched with just
Jaejoong’s dick in his ass, screwing him open.
 
Jaejoong is a ruthless force of sex all up against Changmin’s body, using him
up to his own cause, pushing Changmin into his own mind so that Changmin can
barely think anymore, much less protest with how hard and roughly he was
getting fucked. With another thrust, then another, Jaejoong kisses the
cartilage of Changmin’s ear, laughing ‘Yeah. Like a fucking novel, Changminnie,
I know how much you love it.’
 
Changmin comes – giving in so completely, and Jaejoong groans when his cock
gets milked, breathing hard as he lets himself flood Changmin’s ass with his
come, feel it start to leak out half a minute later once the aftershocks have
died down and Changmin is hiccupping to catch his breath, fingers still
clutched tight in the sheets.
 
Half-expecting the boy to pass out, Jaejoong kisses a line down Changmin’s
spine, grabbing tissues to wipe at Changmin’s come, take care of him for a
little while when Changmin is too fucked-out to resist Jaejoong’s occasional
indulgences.
 
‘Good, lovely slut,’ he murmurs when Changmin obediently rolls onto his back to
let Jaejoong clean at his stomach, his mouth open and pink. Oh, Jaejoong can’t
resist that. He leans over, kisses Changmin’s mouth, and feels the boy kiss
back.
 
Cognitive dissonance. Changmin keeps kissing, keeps buying into his own idea
that Jaejoong can leave him destroyed like this because they like and care and
love one another.
 
Jaejoong smiles and pulls away, ‘no, Changminnie, move your mouth like this,’
and dips back down again.
 
-
 
For four more years, they rise and reign as gods.
 
Junsu grows up sleek eyed, with a seductive mouth and a body to die for.
Yoochun keeps his angles and planes, yet fills out in his clothes, straightens
his back and smiles directly into the camera as if he would like to be nowhere
else. Jaejoong is so proud.
 
Yunho grows up soft and beautiful. Jaejoong wants to grip Yunho’s wrists till
they’re bruising, see how Yunho’s lashes flutter and his brows draw together,
how his pretty bowed lip would fit under Jaejoong’s teeth if they ever kissed.
Yet, Yunho is too strong to shatter into a million broken pieces the way
Changmin does, he’s too self-assured and confident now. Jaejoong can’t help but
love him more for it – but Yunho would still bleed and scar under Jaejoong’s
fingertips. So Jaejoong keeps away, focuses on the last one.
 
Changmin grows up. Upupup. Shooting past Yunho by a few centimetres and filling
out from the hours he spends in the gym on their days off or in the early
mornings. They cut his hair short, make him look like less of a boy, but it
still shines through with that wide mouth, those big eyes.
 
‘He’s getting stronger,’ says Jaejoong to the camera, ‘tohit me.’
 
Changmin only laughs, belying his true feelings. Because Yunho still doesn’t
look at Changmin the way Changmin looks at him. Because Jaejoong still has a
monopoly on Yunho should he ever choose to have Yunho’s attention. Because they
hate each other at the end of the day – no matter what niceties Jaejoong
pretends to give and Changmin pretends to receive.
 
The more beautiful they become, the more revealing the outfits. Jaejoong wants
to break all the rules and leave blooming purple flower petals all down the
skin of Changmin’s arms and around his throat. Instead, he slaps Changmin’s
ribs with ringed fingers, watching the marks flush red then fade out to green-
yellow-blue-purple – a rainbow of pain for Changmin to mull over when it’s been
too long between the last fuck and the next one.
 
Changmin gets good at evading questions, dodging glances, reassuring stylists
that the bruises are from the gym, of course, he’s taking some martial arts
courses and they don’t go easy on a person. Sometimes it’s sports. Something
it’s just bumping into the table or falling off the couch. Like Yunho-hyung
gets all those scars, says Changmin offhandedly, I easily bruise.
 
-
 
This is the moment that Jaejoong remembers the most distinctly from their high-
reigning positions, straddling two countries, holding hundreds of hearts in
their hands, gods in every right, soaked in riches and fame.
 
It begins with Changmin being twenty years old and broken into a thousand
pieces by Jaejoong over the course of five years. It begins with Changmin
thinking – for one frail second – that he can fight back.
 
Jaejoong remembers first kissing Changmin at sixteen – how soft it was,
feather-light, gentle. How the boy had not wanted anything to do with it. It
didn’t matter now, because whenever Jaejoong initiated it, Changmin always
responded. Took a few years of training, but it was worth it to see that wide
mouth all flushed and wet with Jaejoong’s spit as it tried to curse Jaejoong
down to hell.
 
Today is marked with something different – it is the first time Changmin kisses
Jaejoong. Changmin – who stalks into the kitchen, using his height and build to
seem imposing and loom over Jaejoong as Jaejoong watches the stove – before
grabbing Jaejoong’s wrist.
 
‘Yes, Changminnie?’ murmurs Jaejoong, before he’s caught off-guard and spun
around, back pressing against the edge of the kitchen counter as Changmin dips
his head to bite at Jaejoong’s bottom lip hard enough to bleed.
 
Jaejoong can play this game in his fucking sleep – he smiles and bites back,
just as roughly, keeping up with the way Changmin kisses with experience,
sucking hard on Jaejoong’s top lip before fucking his tongue into Jaejoong’s
mouth.
 
They might be alone, they might not be – hard to remember in the haze of
Jaejoong’s mounting arousal, especially when his little puppy was trying to
bite. Changmin might be a gymrat, but Jaejoong would always be stronger. He
wrenches his mouth away, staring up at Changmin’s glittering eyes, before one
of his hands are colliding against Changmin’s throat, keeping a tight grip as
he forcibly makes the boy walk backwards.
 
Without flourish, Jaejoong slams Changmin’s back against the table, hand tight
around his throat. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Changminnie?’ he
smiles, voice soft and promising pain.
 
‘Going to fuck you,’ rasps Changmin, a hand lashing out but Jaejoong knocks it
away and then grips Changmin’s wrist, slamming it beside Changmin’s head
against the wood. ‘Going to break you,’ he continues, undaunted.
 
Jaejoong cocks his head, laughing. ‘You can’t, but it’s okay, Changmin-ah. No
one can.’
 
He releases Changmin and takes a step back, watching as Changmin stands back up
in a smooth motion as if he wasn’t just pinned before trying to throw a punch
at him.
 
This – this is familiar, even if the intent is something strange and pathetic,
only something that Changmin could conceive from the broken parts of his mind
where he imagines they’re lovers or enemies or something in between when
they’re none of that.
 
They’re creator and creature, artist and sculpture. Changmin is his work, and
Jaejoong will be damned to be overwhelmed by a thing carved from his own hands.
Instead, he tussles with Changmin on the kitchen floor, unbuckling his belt to
tie Changmin’s wrists at the small of his back until the boy stops resisting.
 At twenty, it still takes just as long as it did at seventeen, but it’s
pleasing. Jaejoong would’ve gotten oh-so-bored if Changmin stopped putting up a
fight.
 
Eventually, Jaejoong tosses Changmin on his knees on Changmin’s own bed,
admiring the marks of punches and kicks and elbow jabs and knees to the ribs.
How Changmin was going to be sore for the rest of the month, how the skin was
going to pull every time Changmin lifted weights and reminded him how fucking
weak he was even after all these years.
 
‘God – you’re such a greedy fucking thing,’ pants Jaejoong as he rips the
clothes off Changmin, admires that grown body in its litheness and muscle.
‘First time – I had to have you against that fucking couch because you wouldn’t
give in, do you remember?’
 
Changmin snarls out a, ‘I hate you – I fucking ha – angh!’ before Jaejoong
pushes his spit-slick cock into Changmin’s ass without any preparation. The
burn of too-dry skin rushes into Jaejoong’s head, and makes Changmin wail out,
wrists struggling against the leather.
 
‘Had to kiss you first too, had to get you here on my – ah, fuck – on my own,’
groans Jaejoong, fingers tight on Changmin’s hips, railing into him, loving how
the friction was almost too much, almost too hot and tight around his cock, and
how well Changmin took him in. ‘God – you can never fucking give, can you?’
 
He leans over, chest lining all along Changmin’s spine, feeling the scratch of
Changmin’s nails as they scraped across Jaejoong’s sternum. Changmin’s gulping
for air, throat working as his brain short-circuits from the way Jaejoong
pistons into him, rocking into Changmin’s prostate and making Changmin drip
precome against his will.
 
Jaejoong isn’t done of course, when he unhooks his hand from Changmin’s hips to
grab a fistful of hair, wrenching his head back and drinking in the sight of
Changmin’s desperately bobbing adam’s apple. The angle has Changmin’s body
arching, letting Jaejoong fuck hard and good into him, loving how Changmin’s
body involuntarily goes tight with tension, his hole too, milking Jaejoong’s
dick so fucking well.
 
‘You can fucking take though,’ he says, snapping his hips so hard against
Changmin’s ass, reveling in the noises of his balls slapping against the back
of Changmin’s thighs, how he’ll struggle to walk properly when this is fucking
over. ‘You are so fuckinghungry for my cock, aren’t you? A complete – ah – slut
for me.’
 
‘Fuck you,’ froths Changmin immediately, his entire body singing under the
rough usage, under Jaejoong’s unrelenting touch, and the ruthless fucking of
Jaejoong’s cock inside of him. ‘You fucking – ah, uhn!’
 
Can’t even fucking speak, thinks Jaejoong and laughs with it, pulling
Changmin’s head back even further and using his other hand to scrape his nails
across the line of Changmin’s throat hard enough to leave welts. ‘Come for me,
little Changminnie,’ he calls out, voice a lilting song to contrast with the
slamming thrusts he’s giving Changmin, ‘come for me filled only with my cock
like the hungry whore you are – ’
 
Oh – he’s so close. Changmin shuts his eyes, giving in to it all. The abuse
makes his entire body get hot with lust and his cock is twitching and dribbling
precome. Even his hips cant backwards, welcoming Jaejoong’s cock inside of him
all hot and willing, Jaejoong couldn’t have found a better fucking slut than
this.
 
It’s the sight of Changmin with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in some
futile attempt to muffle his keening that makes Jaejoong lose it all – his
sense of rhythm and any motivation to speak. All he can do now is grip
Changmin’s hair and fuck him so deep that Jaejoong can’t even breathe, just
loves how good Changmin’s ass takes him in and clenches down as if to keep him
there.
 
Changmin comes without a warning – completely untouched, just from the
roughness of Jaejoong, how the pain is swimming in his veins and making him
light-headed and delirious. ‘Oh shit, your ass feels amazing,’ gasps Jaejoong
when Changmin’s body tightens up and loosens with aftershocks. Underneath,
Changmin’s cock is striping his bedspread with come, and Changmin’s eyes are
open but unseeing as he tries to breathe from the overstimulation.
 
Jaejoong pulls out and flips Changmin to his back, straddling the boy’s chest
and shoving his cock right into the pretty, wet mouth. ‘Fuck your throat the
way you like it,’ he tells Changmin, sinking deep into that heat, ‘fucking take
it all, my gorgeous slut.’
 
The muffled noise from Changmin might be words or a moan, but Changmin’s too
far gone anyway for Jaejoong to care as he rams hard into that mouth, loving
the slackness of it, the tickling touches of Changmin’s tongue along the
underside of the shaft, how Jaejoong’s balls feel when they slap against
Changmin’s chin.
 
He keeps fucking, feeling the flutter of Changmin’s throat. ‘Choke on it,
yeah,’ he encourages breathlessly, ‘god, you love this – get off on suffocating
on my dick.’ Changmin’s brows are drawn tight but his mouth is still wide and
pliant, willing to let Jaejoong use it for his own pleasure.
 
So he does – unrelenting, one hand tangled in Changmin’s hair, the other hooked
around the headboard as he pounds into Changmin’s mouth as if it was his ass.
He pardons the little skims of teeth against his dick when Changmin can barely
breathe right now, his eyes glittering with tears that have cut lines across
his face, soaking into his hair.
 
With a muffled groan, Jaejoong comes after grinding right up against Changmin’s
mouth, making the boy sputter around the hot load of come slinking down his
throat. He pulls out soon after that, admiring the string of semen connected
between the cockhead and Changmin’s bottom lip.
 
‘Turn over,’ says Jaejoong, and Changmin lolls his head before struggling onto
his side then his stomach. With quick movements, Jaejoong has the belt undone
and Changmin’s hands are free.
 
Lethargic, Changmin draws his hands to his chest, blinking slowly as he comes
back from subspace. Jaejoong waits, wanting answers, but he can’t help but
admire the canvas he’s made of Changmin’s back and sides – the interweaving
coloured bruises like a watercolour painting of pain.
 
‘Will I be getting a repeat of this?’ he asks, voice light and casual. Changmin
doesn’t fall for it. Instead, he lifts himself up into a sitting position,
draping the blanket around his shoulders, knees drawn to his chest, as if
forgetting he’s almost twenty-one and instead becomes fifteen again.
 
When Changmin finally replies, it’s with a young voice, a quivering voice that
would make Jaejoong’s heart clench if he had one. ‘Don’t – don’t take Yunho-
hyung away from me.’
 
Oh. Jaejoong – seated naked and casual at the edge of the bed – looks at
Changmin again, a little more closely. ‘Junsu told you then – about the
lawsuit.’
 
‘You can’t have him,’ continues Changmin, looking hard at his own knees, eyes
glittering with emotion.
 
‘So you thought of overpowering me? That breaking me would make me listen to
you?’ Jaejoong scoffs. ‘How long have you even loved him, hm?’
 
‘Ever since I first saw him in SM. I was fourteen.’ Changmin turns to Jaejoong,
pins him with big, haunted eyes full of want and despair. ‘So fuck you. Fuck
you.’
 
‘There are two things to learn here,’ says Jaejoong slowly, eyes narrowed,
feeling oddly claustrophobic from the emotion clouding Changmin’s gaze. ‘One –
Yunho is not yours, but he’s not mine either, no matter how much I want him.
He’ll never be either of ours, so you fucking grow up and learn that soon,
Changminnie.’
 
Changmin flinches, but doesn’t back down. Jaejoong continues, words rushed,
‘and second – you won’t ever, ever be able to hurt me.’ He reaches out, cupping
Changmin’s neck, feeling the quiver of emotion running through Changmin’s body
as he speaks. ‘Remember,’ and Changmin blinks, once, twice, tears clouding his
eyes, ‘I fucking made you,’ and – finally – Changmin cries, ugly and broken.
 
-
 
It is the last time they fuck because after that the lawsuit lands on the
kitchen table and Yunho is storming out the door, so full of hurt and anger
that he doesn’t return for a week.
 
Once he finally does, the court shatters the gods in half – leaving Yunho and
Changmin on side of the gaping crevice and Jaejoong, Yoochun, and Junsu on the
other.
 
Jaejoong doesn’t even wait an hour before he’s packed all his stuff and moved
into an apartment he and Yoochun began renting out three months earlier to this
entire clusterfuck.
 
The contract makes them finish a few last songs in the recording studio, all
standing together a little cracked and angry, but it’s over soon enough with
professionalism. After all – they’re still gods, not faltering humans who make
too many mistakes, victims to their own emotions.
 
-
 
It is only a month later when Changmin buzzes the doorbell to Jaejoong and
Yoochun’s apartment, demanding to be let inside. Jaejoong doesn’t know how
Changmin has found them – he has a sneaking suspicion it was Yoochun who told
him. Yoochun always had a weakness for the maknae. Today, however, Yoochun
isn’t here and Jaejoong presses the button that opens the door to the building,
waiting in his foyer with half-anticipation and half-curiosity.
 
The knock on the front door comes soon after, and Jaejoong lets Changmin inside
– all one hundred and eighty centimetres of him swathed in a coat and sweater
from the fall weather that’s swept into Seoul a little too early in the year.
 
‘Hello, Changminnie,’ greets Jaejoong, leading him into the kitchen, ‘How are
you? Coffee? Food?’
 
‘Coffee,’ mentions Changmin curtly, ignoring pleasantries in favour of
inspecting the clean floor and kitchen counters and the wide, wooden table with
four chairs. Changmin takes a seat and watches – Jaejoong can feel his gaze
burning into the back of his neck and almost delights in it. How different it
is, howdomineering Changmin is.
 
He should’ve seen it coming – with the hasty, cluttered way Changmin had tried
to draw himself together, be the support for Yunho, who was wide-eyed and upset
as he stared across the SM hallway to see Yoochun, Junsu and Jaejoong’s
contracts terminated upon court order.
 
Jaejoong brings two steaming mugs over and takes a seat across from Changmin,
smiling over his rim. ‘What brings you here?’
 
Changmin doesn’t answer at first, blowing the steam off the top of the cup
before flicking his eyes to meet Jaejoong’s curious gaze. ‘To clear a few
things up.’
 
‘Do tell.’
 
A deep breath. ‘After today, don’t ever contact me again, or else.’
 
Jaejoong hums. ‘Or what? We’ll fuck again? We had such great times, didn’t we?’
 
‘Shut up,’ says Changmin flatly, but it’s not a denial, and for that Jaejoong
wants to laugh. ‘Two, don’t you ever come near Yunho-hyung.’
 
‘Because he’s yours now, right?’ Jaejoong leans forward, eyes open and curious.
‘Or does he still not notice you? How you watch him?’
 
It’s taking all of Changmin’s self-restraint not to throw the coffee in
Jaejoong’s face from the way his expression turns stormy and his shoulders draw
up, entire body tense in his chair.
 
Jaejoong can’t help it, ‘do you think about it? Doing to him what I did to you?
He would enjoy it, y’know – pretty little submissive things like him always do.
Just like you.’
 
‘Shut the fuck up.’
 
‘You can do it now, Changminnie,’ reassures Jaejoong, ignoring the other’s
outburst entirely. ‘Mark Yunho’s skin up with your fingerprints, have him obey
everything you ask of him when you fuck, make him come so hard he forgets his
name but still knows yours.’
 
Changmin’s breathing hard through his nose, furious rage pressing against the
inside of his teeth, waiting to burst out.
 
Taking pity, Jaejoong nods. ‘I won’t touch him, Changminnie. I never did – not
once.’
 
‘Don’t,’ presses Changmin.
 
‘Promise.’ Apparently, it was the only thing Changmin needed as he quickly
stands up, coffee untouched. Jaejoong frowns. ‘That’s it? Not here for any
apology? Any ‘why did you do that to me, Jaejoong-hyung? For so many years?’’
 
Changmin’s jaw wavers, eyes flashing – as if he’s going to cry – before he
straightens out and blinks away the feeling. ‘You’re a fucking bastard.’
 
‘Go home, Changminnie,’ says Jaejoong softly, ‘go back to Yunho. Shove him
against a wall. Get him off. The way I did to you.’
 
‘Why.’ Changmin’s voice breaks and he’s taking a step back, face twisted. ‘I
hate you.’
 
Jaejoong continues, ‘Just like me, Changminnie, I know you can. After all,’ he
smiles, ‘I trained you so well.’
 
With a strangled noise, Changmin flees the kitchen. Jaejoong stays seated,
cupping his mug between both hands, and listens to the clutter of noise as
Changmin puts on his jacket and shoes, the door opening and slamming closed.
 
The resulting silence stretches and creeps – pushing at Jaejoong’s skin,
wrapping around him, and he runs his tongue along the edge of his teeth,
feeling where Changmin’s bones have caught, and he laughs to himself for a job
well done.
 
-
End Notes
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