The Games We Play (The Mistakes We Make) (1/?)
Title: The Games We Play (The Mistakes We Make)
By: Onyx L.S.
Rating: PG-13 (so far)
Pairing: 2Min, JongTae, Jinwoon/Taemin
Summary: In his mind he knew he was falling right into the trap the delicate looking boy had set for him but that wasn't important. Whether or not he had been spun into Taemin's little web of secrets didn't matter. What mattered was beating him at his own game.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
WARNING: If you easily get offended by crude and offensive language/phrasing do not read this. (I can't control the way my character's talk/act okay? xD)
SM Academy had a rather obvious divide within the student body. An invisible line that seemed to run along the campus splitting the school into two halves, separating the performing arts center from the football field; the boys from the men. At least that's how the sport-inclined side (as they were formally called) saw it. In their opinion, the students that stayed on the opposite side of that line were pussies and faggots.
There was only one person who consistently broke this rule of segregation: Taemin Lee.
Taemin was what the school categorized as "art-inclined", a dancer. He was one of the few performers on campus with a seemingly bright future. With flaming red hair that curled prettily to frame a delicate looking face and electric blue contacts that lighted already bright eyes he was just as flashy as the rest of them.
The boy was what the football team had deemed "a trap". Long dark lashes, high porcelain doll cheekbones, and full plush lips – his face was easily as pretty as any girls'. To top it off, Taemin's body was lithe and graceful, snowy white complexion flushing pretty pink when he would get embarrassed. Not to mention he was extremely flexible; years of stretching and ballet made sure of that, a fact not overlooked by the majority of the male population.
The said sophomore was currently sauntering right across the invisible line, his group of friends falling back by instinct as he crossed into what the art-inclined considered "classless" territory. Every time he broke the barrier people whispered, some of scandal and some in admiration of the other's audacity.
No one dared to stop him though as he passed, not really because they were scared of him but more because they were scared of his boyfriend, ironically the most stereotypical jock one could come across: Jinwoon, captain of the football team.
He was impossibly tall and broad, bulky muscle packed onto his arms and back. His eyes were small and slit, mostly making cute, happy creases but menacing those rare times when he wasn't smiling.
As Taemin walked onto the field, careless and oblivious to the fact that they were in the middle of practice, skinny jeans clinging tight to his long legs and Jinwoon's leather jacket hanging adorably large on his frame, the whole team stopped to watch him and dreamy expressions began crawling onto their faces. Because really, Taemin's ass was enough to turn a straight man gay (as it had in the past).
As the young boy floated by, one particularly stupid football player lifted a hand, bringing it down across Taemin's rear-end with a harsh slap. The red-head yelped in surprise, cheeks heating and eyes widening at the action before those piercing blue orbs narrowed and Taemin turned on him.
"Excuse me-"
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Mir?" Taemin was suddenly shrouded in the darkness of someone's shadow and a possessive arm slipped around his front, tugging him back into a strong chest- Jinwoon.
"I-I'm sorry, captain. I had no idea he was your-" The young, and obviously new, addition to the team stuttered in fear, eyes wide and dark.
"Sorry isn't good enough." Jinwoon stated with finality, eyes gleaming with something unnatural and fiercely protective. He took a step forward, fists already clenched and arms tense before slim fingers wrapped around his bicep, giving it a small squeeze.
"He didn't know." Taemin said softly, doe eyes looking up at Jinwoon pleadingly. He hated violence. The older boy frowned, stared at the pretty boy's slim face and pouty expression before he sighed and settled for spitting on Mir's shoes, the brunette making a noise of surprised disgust as the liquid settled onto his covered feet.
"50 up-downs. And lay a hand on what's mine again and I'll fucking kill you." Jinwoon grabbed Taemin's fragile looking arm, turning sharply while tugging the latter along.
"You owe me." He muttered and the youth smiled, bumping his shoulder against the football player's as he slipped a hand into Jinwoon's back pocket.
"Come over tonight and I'll make it up to you…" his voice was a seductive purr. One of Jinwoon's teammates, tall, serious looking and with long dark hair, watched from center field shaking his head disapprovingly as the couple left.
Minho slammed his locker shut with vigor, slinging the duffle bag that held his football gear over his shoulder fast enough to leave whiplash. I mean, what the fuck gave that pussy the right to sashay through like he owned the fucking football field? Nothing, not a single thing…except Jinwoon. I can't believe they let him stay captain. He thought as he rounded a corner in the maze of halls, lockers and classrooms, making his way toward the boys' East Dorm ready for some sleep; homework could wait til morning.
So what if that Taemin kid had wide, dazzling eyes and a cute, pouty mouth? He still had a dick, and no amount of soft skin, fragrant hair and pretty smiles was going to change that.
At first, when Taemin was a naïve freshmen that had taken one step too far (over the line that is), Jinwoon had shown interest in him (by slapping his ass), something everyone took as a joke. And they kept laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing until some meat head hokey player had commented on how he'd like to pound that virgin ass; then shit hit the fan and everyone realized Jinwoon wasn't joking.
The football team had ignored Jinwoon's and Taemin's relationship at first, convinced their star player was just going through a phase. He wasn't. A year later and watching the sandy haired quarterback make out (tongue and ass groping included) with a dude had become a normal occurrence. It was a fucked up world.
The tan boy was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice he had taken the wrong turn somewhere in the perplex system of halls and was now headed straight toward the West Building, the art building.
Minho was quiet and he really didn't want many things, but what he did want was his sport back. It's not that Jinwoon had changed, in fact, he only seemed to play harder when under Taemin's sparkly gaze, but it just wasn't right. Art and sport didn't mix. Jocks and fags didn't hang out. That's just the way it was.
It was only when he heard the distant rattle of lockers and the sound of labored breath and smacking lips that he looked up from his sneakers and realized he was lost. He was in the West building, that much he could tell. Gone was the charge of competition from the air and in its place the serene feeling needed for imagination. Minho's skin prickled at the unfamiliarness of it all, comfort zone stretched far too wide. He needed to get out of there, fast.
So he followed the sounds, mentally preparing himself for the most likely horrendous scene that awaited him: two art freaks getting hot and heavy. He prayed it wasn't two flamboyant homos in tight colorful pants and studded earrings.
But as he drew closer he realized that his worst fears had been confirmed. Two homos. One with deep red locks and the other a haphazard cut of everything from bleach blond to deep brown-Minho couldn't look away. Not because he was transfixed or because he suddenly thought maybe he was a homo (what did this look like? Some cliché fanfiction? No, this shit was real.); it was because this scene seemed too familiar.
He continued to stare, taking it all in. The red hair, the slim body, the ass hugging jeans and the quiet murmur of a melodious voice he always heard cheering during practice…And that's when it all clicked into place: Taemin.
Minho scoffed then, not bothering to hide his presence as he allowed himself the luxury of leaning against a heavily decorated locker (there were sparkles on it). So what if he was on their turf? He was in the right this time.
He did, however, have to hand it to the little minx, it was a good tactic. Taemin might have been perfectly fine with crossing the line but Jinwoon still had his pride, and he wouldn't step a foot in art territory, meaning that the sophomore could have gotten around half the school by now and Jinwoon would never have had a clue. Well, he'd make sure that didn't happen. The joke was over and once Jinwoon (not to mention the rest of the team) found out, those art-inclined students wouldn't be laughing for a long time.
After all, the golden rule was bros before hos. Okay, so maybe the golden rule was actually don't stare in the shower, but the other rule was still pretty up there.
The guy and Taemin didn't stop their kissing and wandering hands until Minho cleared his throat loudly, pounding his fist on a locker once for good measure.
"You done?"
When they parted it was because the cherry haired boy had turned away to look at the current pest bothering him. "Get lost."
The shorter boy (the blond) was trailing wet kisses along Taemin's sharp jaw line and the pale column of his neck, the red-head getting back into it as fingers twined into choppy hair when that annoying voice was speaking again.
"No can do, sweet heart." Minho replied shit eating grin spreading wide across his face as Taemin shoved the obviously older boy (he seemed like a junior) away in irritation, scowl forming on his bruised lips.
"Look weird voyeur boy, I told you…" he trailed off as his eyes landed on Minho's all too familiar face. "M-Minho," the pretty boy seemed to be struggling for words, hand reaching back to grab viciously at the hand still glued to his ass, pushing it away. "this isn't what it looks like."
And finally, finally, it was his time to saunter forward; they played by his rules now. Ha fucking ha. Who was laughing now Taemin Lee?
"Actually," he stepped closer until he was chest to chest with the younger, Taemin straightening and tilting his chin up in an action of defensiveness. "I think it's exactly what it looks like."
The blond midget started to step forward, to put distance between him and the other boy but Taemin stopped him.
"I got this, Jonghyun."
The blond-brunette hesitated for a moment longer before nodding and leaning in to press a kiss to Taemin's cheek.
"Alright, I'll see you later, baby."
As soon as he had walked out of ear-shot Minho was clapping and whistling mockingly, wry amusement lighting his face.
"Wow. Impressive. You just have 'em lining up, don't you?"
Taemin rolled his eyes and leaned back against the line of lockers behind him with seeming nonchalance but Minho knew better, saw the underlying rigidness in his form.
"It's not like that." The look on Minho's face said he didn't buy it for a second and Taemin sighed.
"Fine. What do you want?"
The jock was taken aback.
"What could you offer me?" The smile that spread across Taemin's face, all slow and secretive, was distinctly Cheshire.
"A lot more than you think."
Minho made a face of disgust. "I don't do shit with fags."
He didn't look fazed.
"And respectively I don't mingle with narrow minded idiots but look at me now." The sarcasm nearly made Minho flinch but he wasn't about to give the younger the benefit of seeing that. "Plus," Taemin continued offhandedly. "You seem to hang with my boyfriend just fine."
Wrong move.
"Ex-boyfriend."
Taemin frowned and his clam charade cracked just the slightest bit. "Only if you tell him."
"And give me a reason why I shouldn't tell him?" Minho cocked an eyebrow, watching as Taemin made his eyes all wide, lips curling into an angelic smile that he was sure got the boy everything he wanted.
"Because you're nice and…I won't do it again?"
"Try again." He took pleasure in watching the other's face fall, sweet aura slipping away as he made a sound of annoyance and crossed his arms over his chest. It seemed for Taemin that this would be harder to quash than he originally thought.
"Fine you asshole." There was a bite in his tone that Minho had never heard before and he had the feeling that maybe the dancer wasn't as much of a pussy as he had once assumed. "Let's make a deal."
Minho pursed his lips. "A deal?"
"Yeah. You don't know my situation, so isn't it only fair for you to at least give me the benefit of the doubt and let me win back my privacy?" Cunning. That's what the younger boy was. Then again, he did have a point; Minho really didn't know his situation. He was just an observer. Still…dammit, he wasn't about to be manipulated by some child-
"Don't tell me you're afraid you're going to lose a bet, Choi Minho?" Taemin's lips quirked up into an amused smirk and Minho knew the younger had him by the balls. Competition (as Taemin obviously knew) was his weak point and there was no way in hell he was going to back down from a challenge this fairy threw at him.
"Fine. What do you want to do? Soccer? Tennis? Track?"
The red-head waved away the suggestions with a dismissive hand.
"We both know who would win in those things. And we both know who would win in a dance off, acting or drawing competition. It wouldn't be fair…"
"Then…" Minho prompted impatiently.
"Well…" And that sly look was slipping over Taemin's face again; a mix of innocence and mischief, a look Minho should have known to fear. "You say you're not homosexual but have you ever tried it?"
Minho didn't like where this was going and he took a step back.
"No and I never fucking will." But this time Taemin was the one advancing, hips swaying slightly as he walked forward in a way he knew Minho wouldn't miss. That bitch.
"Hmm…so you're scared of boys? Well that's..." he shook his head a little with disappointment. "Lame."
Minho's pride had been taking a mild beating from the beginning, but if there's one thing Choi Minho wasn't, it was lame. It was just unthinkable that this…this…little boy had the nerve to call him that while in bright red pants; it was downright illogical.
"I am not scared of boys."
"Prove it."
Minho slammed his fist into the locker next to Taemin's head but the latter didn't even flinch.
"No way." Satisfaction was plain in those blue eyes and Minho hated the smugness in the way the other nudged him aside and shrugged, starting to walk away.
"Fine," And there it was, that infuriating little smirk as he glanced over his shoulder to look at the football player. "But you lose."
Choi Minho did not lose.
And so, before the action could even register in his mind, he was wrapping his hand around that thin wrist, yanking Taemin back roughly so that they were mere inches apart. "State the terms."
In his mind he knew he was falling right into the trap the delicate looking boy had set for him but that wasn't important. Whether or not he had been spun into Taemin's little web of secrets didn't matter. What mattered was beating him at his own game.
"If you, Choi Minho, can have me beneath you willingly spreading my legs then I will accept that you have won and you can tell Jinwoon whatever you want. I won't say anything. Plus you can have one wish from me."
Wish? Sounded gay (well actually the whole bet was gay). Then again, he did know Taemin had an awesome stereo system that would look great in his room. And fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He did not want to be anywhere near Taemin, much less in between his legs, but he couldn't say no.
"Fine. Time limit?"
The sophomore chewed his full lower lip thoughtfully.
"I'll give you…two months considering that we barely know each other, aside from you stalker-ish tendencies that is."
"Wrong place at the wrong time." Minho shrugged and grinned. "For you at least." The football player dropped Taemin's wrist then, suddenly uncomfortable with the fact that he'd been holding it so long.
"And what happens if you win, Lee Taemin? Not that you will."
"If I win, you stay out of my business and never breathe a word of what I've done or do to anyone. Oh, and the words 'fag, homo and pussy' won't be leaving your mouth again while I'm in your presence. Deal?"
Taemin stretched out his hand and Minho took it.
"Deal."
Taemin was just beginning to walk away when a thought occurred to him.
"And how do I know you won't like this little game we're playing?"
The younger looked him up and down with something like disgust.
"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I don't have taste."
And then he strolled away. That bitch.