Game Over

Mar. 5th, 2012 01:04 am
poppy_sky: (YunJae)
[personal profile] poppy_sky
Pairings: YunJae
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: smut, character death.
Summary: Jaejoong let's himself get caught.
A/N: I was bored, that's it.

A small dot of ember was the only light in the room. The city lights coming from the angled blinds showered the place in shadows, blurring contours together; painting the room in scales of dark gray. Rain beat against the window, drowning every other sound, isolating the inside of the room from the chaos down below.

Cold metal was pressed against his skull and he took a drag, letting out the smoke leisurely, adding to the grayness of the room.

“You found me.”

The man behind him shifted and he felt the gun move slightly, though it stayed firmly placed with the barrel pointed at his head. He finished his cigarette without a hurry, content to watch as colors bled into each other in the world outside the window. He stubbed it out on the windowsill and stood up, the gun following his every movement.

Lightning lit up the sky, its rumbling almost deafening. The dark room was filled with light, baring his naked, tattooed torso. In those brief seconds he was able to see the other man, his small face all sharp angles, and with a fond smile he saw it had not changed at all.

“I missed you, Yunho-yah,” he whispered, against the other’s lips, the gun moving to rest against his temple.

“You were reckless this time, Jaejoong,” the other man said, not moving away when arms wrapped around his neck, a face being pressed against his collarbone. “The force won’t take you alive.”

“Dance with me one last time,” Jaejoong requested, swaying their bodies together before waiting for an answer.

A hand went over his hip when he started humming a slow tune, the other stayed firmly wrapped around the gun held to his head. Eventually the detective took over, leading the rhythm of their dancing, his hand pressed against Jaejoong’s lower back, pressing the assassin flush against his body.

Angling his face upwards, his lips found Yunho’s and started a dance of their own, flesh upon flesh. The arm holding the gun relaxed slightly, the barrel slipping down to his neck as the detective deepened the kiss, taking him in the direction of the bed and pushing him down as soon as his legs hit the edge.

Another lightning flashed across the sky and the detective was able to see the heated look in the criminal’s eyes; the desire coursing through his skin.

“It’s a shame I have to kill you,” Yunho said softly, climbing on top of him. “All that beauty gone to waste.”

Calloused fingers caressed his stomach, moving up to graze over a nipple, the action causing him to mewl. Lips crashed on top of his again, and he opened his mouth, letting his tongue start a battle of dominance that he was not to win.

“At least you can say I made it worth your while,” Jaejoong breathed, once they parted for air.

The detective hummed in agreement and grabbed his handcuffs. Jaejoong allowed the metal binds to be secured around his wrists and then to the headboard, the metal warming against his skin quickly. It was only then that Yunho left the gun in the bedside table. His eyes offered a half-meant apology.

“I don’t trust you.”

“You shouldn’t,” he replied, watching with hungry eyes as the detective began removing his clothes.

Tight slacks were pulled from his legs in one quick motion, a sigh coming out of his lips when cool air hit his heated skin. Two saliva-slicked fingers prodded at his entrance and he spread his legs, moaning like a whore the second they pushed inside. There was nothing sweet about the prep; just raw, animalistic need masqueraded with barely-there concern and softened brusqueness.

“Make it hurt,” he whispered, his legs trembling with anticipation.

There was a grunt, some shifting, a quick motion and then hot, white pain spread from his spine to the back of his eyes. His back arched up and his mouth opened in a silent scream. The drag was too dry for comfort, and he loved every second of it.

Shallow breaths filled the dark room, the two figures on the bed moving in sync. His legs hitched up higher as the detective’s length pounded harder into his body, the slapping of skin against skin intoxicating to his ears, bringing him to ecstasy-filled madness.

“Jae—“, the detective moaned into his ear as his hips faltered in their rhythm.

It was listening to those sounds that he lost it, spilling hard between their bodies, toes curling in pleasure. He breathed hard, legs slack around the moving man on top of him, riding the aftershocks as Yunho’s seed finally burst inside him. There was a squelching sound as Yunho pulled out, stickiness running down his legs as soon as the detective moved away.

Lips pressed against his, the kiss short but tender. Arms wrapped around his torso and the detective laid his head on top of the assassin’s chest, curling to his side like a cat. Jaejoong thought it funny how things never changed.

“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Yunho mumbled, closing his eyes.

The storm had faded into a light drizzle. Jaejoong watched through the blinds as the lights outside began to disappear one by one. The room quieted down until he could hear the detective’s even breathing.

He smiled to himself.

The sky outside the window was gray with fog, the humidity from the rain clinging to the earth like a desperate lover.

He flicked the ash from his cigarette, watching as it gathered on the old carpet, adding to the stains marring the filthy surface. Blood dried on his hands, turning a dark shade of maroon and rubbing off on the white cancer stick as he held it up and inhaled again.

Finishing his cigarette, he stretched and cleaned his hands with a damp rag, meticulously running it between every finger. He collected his clothes, put them on and gathered his things by the door.

He took one last look at the bed, giving into the urge to lean over and kiss pale lips. The whiteness of the skin was a big contrast against the blood oozing from a large cut on the neck, soaking the sheets underneath.

“I told you not to trust me.”

He closed the door behind him, his leather bag slung from one shoulder, his midnight-black locks hiding under a generic cap. Twirling around a pair of handcuffs in his hand, he pulled a device from his pocket, dialing a number and pressing the speaker to his mouth.

“Target status: terminated.”

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