A Measure of Sacrifice

[butterflyweb]

Title: A Measure of Sacrifice (3/8)
Authors: butterflyweb and rawthornewrites
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: GD/Top, BaeRi
Warnings: Character death, violence
Summary: Seunghyun passes out at 8:14, Seoul time. By the time he wakes, at 10:32, the fifty-six Allied Military outposts on Earth and eleven out of fifteen satellites in space have been blown to smithereens.
Author's Note: This is a follow up to A Measure of Salvation, however, if you prefer the ambiguity of that fic's ending, by all means, it can still stand alone. Banner made for us by the fantastic and talented atenais_pala





The steam fills the shower stall like an oppressive cloud, his skin red from the heat, the soft whir of the vents a comforting counterpoint to the hiss of the spray. Now that he'd finally managed to quit General Lee's company, the exhaustion is hitting him full force, sunken deep into his bones.

Turning his face up into the spray, Seunghyun runs his fingers back through his hair, all too aware of Jiyong's eyes on him through the glass door. He's offered to share about six times already and he barely catches himself before a seventh try, too used to the way Jiyong smiles, indulgently and shakes his head. This isn't like him. He's never this quiet, this... pliant. Seunghyun bears fond memories of being kicked on his own ship, on his own time, by the Ahma's long limbs. The feral cat is subdued, now. He's thinking.

"You didn't have to lie," Seunghyun tells him, rising his voice to cover the harsh sound of running water. "About us, I mean."

There's a stretch of silence, and for a moment, he almost thinks Jiyong didn't hear him.

"I...I didn't want them to take me away from you." The reply is quiet, hesitant, so unlike the Ahma that it makes him ache. "I tried to tell Seungri, but he wouldn't say it."

"Slavery is illegal on Earth," Seunghyun explains gently. "It goes against human... well, sentient rights." He ducks his head under the spray one final time before cutting off the water flow. "We punish it with very lengthy incarceration, usually served on one of our not-so-pretty prison ships."

Jiyong bites his lip, holding a towel out to him. "Did I get you in trouble with your people?"

He takes the towel from him, wrapping it around his waist before he moves to lean against the wall, next to where Jiyong sits. Knees pulled up this chest, bare feet on the counter top.

"It'll be okay. You'll just have to tell them the truth if they ask again." He curls his fingers around the Ahma's ankle, squeezing gently. "How are you coping with all of this?" With being locked up, treated like a criminal solely because he got off the wrong ship. Was born on the wrong planet.

Jiyong shrugs minutely, turns the question around to him. "Are you, aheri? When you blacked out, I thought you... I wasn't sure you were still..."

"Hey..." Seunghyun shifts forward, slipping a hand behind Jiyong's nape, bringing their mouths together in a firm kiss, wanting to put the thought out of his head. "I'm okay. Just a little banged up. I'm fine. It's going to be fine, all of it."

He kisses him again, softer this time, brushing fingers through his hair. Jiyong yields to him, devotion spelling his defeat. It doesn't put Seunghyun at ease, this soft meeting of lips, the way Jiyong takes what is given to him, doesn't push for more.

"Aheri," he murmurs, the foreign word feeling strangely at home on his tongue. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

Jiyong shakes his head, legs dropping from the counter to coil around Seunghyun's waist. "Nothing. You're here, with me. There's nothing wrong." Damp fingers trail up his sides, nails sharp against his skin. His lies almost taste like truth when their lips meet again, the Ahma pressing into him.

Seunghyun frames Jiyong's pretty features with his hands, meeting his eyes as he breaks the kiss.

"I won't leave you again. Promise." He brushes his thumb over the Ahma's cheek. "I love you."

There's a smile playing over pale lips, Jiyong's pleasure at the words obvious. He turns his lips into his hand, biting softly at his fingers. "I know. I've always known." He kisses his mouth, his cheek, hips pushing forward into Seunghyun's.

The slight movement spells a kind of relief for Seunghyun, dropping his hands to the Ahma's hips to draw him closer. This is his Jiyong, who doesn't have the patience for intimacy that leads nowhere. He kisses him harder, repeating the words silently, putting them into his kiss as best as he knows how. I love you.

His lover knows how to tempt him, how to touch him so that he forgets his many aches and pains. He ducks his head, trailing kisses over his chest. The bruises are a map of self-inflicted hurt, because if he hadn't started on this journey, neither of them would be here, fumbling like teenage lovers in an officer's quarters on his home planet. The irony isn't lost on Seunghyun.

Jiyong makes a soft noise of appreciation, slim fingers sliding into Seunghyun's hair, tugging gently, enough to know he has the Ahma's interest.

"Isn't...aren't you hurt?" Jiyong breathes, a soft note of pleading in his voice. Like he's begging Seunghyun to tell him otherwise. He won't disappoint him.

"I can take it," he hisses, swallowing back the hurt. This, the sound of Jiyong as he moans with pleasure, the feel of him warm and needy pressed up against Seunghyun's body, it's enough to erase everything. For a moment, there's no Earth to defend, no alien fleet coming to destroy it. Just them, just this.

Seunghyun draws back, folding a hand around Jiyong's. "Bed. Come on."

The Ahma's gaze is dark with want, Jiyong slipping from the counter to look him over, pressing up against him, kissing him wetly.

"Sit down on the counter," the Ahma tells him, nipping at his bottom lip. Making no move to head to the room they were given.

"If we go to the..." Seunghyun doesn't get to finish, Jiyong cupping him through the towel with a sure hand. It cuts off his speech, short-circuiting his brain.

His lover smiles, lips brushing Seunghyun's. "Sit, aheri."

Wetting his lips absently, Seunghyun shifts to obey, one hand curling shakily around the edge of the counter. He pushes himself up, feeling the relief of his knee once he takes the weight off. Decides for that reason alone that he'll continue to indulge Jiyong, the mirror cold against his back.

The Ahma watches him with a small, almost mischievous smile, tugging gently at the knot in the towel. His eyes are intent, gaze warm before it drops down to his bare hips, a different kind of heat taking over. Fingers slide over Seunghyun's thighs, up, down and back up again. "Can they hear us in here?" he queries, licking pale lips.

Seunghyun lets his head drop against the mirror. "Does it matter?"

A soft smirk, the Ahma leaning in to place a kiss over his heart.

"Not at all."

Seunghyun inhales sharply as Jiyong lowers his mouth to his cock, soft lips parting to take in his length, pushing down until he's almost swallowed him whole. "Fuck," Seunghyun chokes, petting his hair shakily. Forcing himself not to pull. "Jiyong--"

He watches him draw back until only the slick head is resting against his bottom lip. Decadent. "I've missed the taste of you." He follows the thought with his fingertips sliding over saliva and precome and shower water, ducking his head to take him into his mouth once more. He's utterly unashamed, warmth and desire pouring off of him in waves.

"God, you beautiful thing..." Seunghyun whispers, watching as that pale head moves over his cock, obscene, wet noises making his stomach tighten with lust.

Jiyong draws him into his mouth, coaxing out his pleasure with hands and lips and determination born out of everything they've been through. Two weeks are the equivalent of a lifetime, the measure of eternity shared between them, one part each. One half of the same heart. Each.

Thin, gasping sounds pour from his lips in response. "Fuck, Jiyong--a-aheri..." Seunghyun likes the way the word slips from his throat like a sigh, like a plea. He likes the way Jiyong responds to it even more.

He bites hard into his bottom lip, twining soft white strands around his fingers, unconsciously guiding the Ahma's mouth along his length. Not forcing, not...just needing to be a part of it. Jiyong moans softly around his cock, dragging a shudder from his body, eyes slipping closed under the pleasurable assault.

"Jiyong..."

He doesn't want to let this moment go even as he feels his resilience slipping through his fingers like sand grains. The heat of it burns him from within, fire in his veins, in his mouth as he swallows in a dry throat. With pain coiling in his back, he bends forward, over him, nails scratching over the flimsy gray t-shirt Jiyong changed to after their meeting with the General. It rides up, exposing pale skin, Jiyong all but purring as Seunghyun strokes his back. He takes it for about ten seconds before he's pulling back, eyes dark with desire as he shoves Seunghyun into the mirror.

Fingers press over his thighs, pushing his knees up. Seunghyun finds himself out of breath, spread open under his lover's hungry gaze and so turned on he could come from a single stroke of Jiyong's talented hand.

"Please," he begs, "baby, I need..."

"Shh," the Ahma murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to the inside of his knee. "I'll take care of you." The words carry the weight of a promise, Jiyong pulling away to withdraw a small bottle of lubricant, the same one Seunghyun had kept in his room on the ship, from the pocket of his pants. "I had...planned, when I came up to the bridge..." The smile is a little dimmer, but still there, Jiyong's fingers ghosting along the inside of Seunghyun's thigh. "I won't hurt you."

Seunghyun trusts him without needing to be told. The reassurance is welcome, but it's just words. He feels Jiyong's sincerity in his bones and he parts his legs for him willingly, like an eager slut and every bit as shameless. His heel slides wetly off the counter, Jiyong's quick reflexes anticipating and catching at his ankle before he can hurt himself.

"I'll take care of you," he repeats, stretching Seunghyun's leg gently until he can rest the heel against his shoulder. His eyes stay focused, ready to react to Seunghyun's slightest discomfort. There's a contradiction in the way he uncaps the lube, fingers warm and cautious as they spill wetness over his skin.

Seunghyun's fingers curl against the cool marble counter, damp hair falling into his eyes, breaths harsh as he watches him. His eyes fall closed as he feels the first finger sink in, a soft grunt spilling from his lips as his head falls back against the mirror.

"Ji..." It's not exactly a plea, but it's not far. He wants more and he wants it now, future aches and current pains the absolute furthest thing from his mind.

Jiyong smiles at him, crooking his finger inside him insistently. He takes his time preparing him, teasing as he works in another finger. It's a tight fit, Seunghyun's body unaccustomed to the treatment after so many years. If Jiyong recognizes it, he doesn't say, pressing his lips to Seunghyun's knee in a muted kiss. Willing him to relax.

"You feel good in my hands, aheri. So good. I could stay like this forever."

"I...I hope not," Seunghyun breathes, the sound almost a laugh, meeting Jiyong warm gaze. "I think you'll kill me with that kind of tease."

Lips curl into a smirk. "You're not that easy to kill, human." He withdraws his fingers and, much to Seunghyun's pleasure, his hand shakes a little as he slicks his own length. "You're a warrior, I can feel it, it's like... this fire inside you." He meets his eyes for a brief second. "It reminds me of home."

Seunghyun brushes his fingertips against his cheek in a fleeting touch, unable to keeping from indulging in the contact.

"I can be your home."

Jiyong shivers with pleasure, his hand on Seunghyun's leg closing and relaxing in a muted caress. "You already are." He sinks into him slowly, lips parting around a sigh. Seunghyun bites his lip to hold back a whimper, not sure if he's feeling discomfort or pleasure and which has the upper hand.

It's a desperate, primal sort of lovemaking, Jiyong setting a quick, stuttered rhythm that drives into Seunghyun so strongly every time. All he can do is hang on.

It's almost uncanny how Jiyong doesn't take his eyes off of him, fingers curled into Seunghyun's thighs and pale lips parted around stilted breaths. The Ahma watches as he shudders underneath him, as he tries to hold back soft pleas for more, faster. Jiyong moves as if he's heard them already and it's pulling him apart. He doesn't give an inch, doesn't let Seunghyun catch his breath or recover his pride. The pale white plains of muscle on his stomach contract and release, sweat on his skin and it's all Seunghyun can do not to lean forward and taste it for himself.

"Touch yourself," Jiyong hisses, fucking him hard and rough on the damp counter, in a room not their own, on a planet not their own. They belong to each other and it's enough.

The demand makes his breath catch, one hand bracing him against the counter top, the other slipping between his spread legs to take himself in hand. Jiyong doesn't slow, doesn't give him room to do anything but shudder at the new sensation, thighs trembling with the need to release.

Seunghyun bites down, hard, on his lip, trying desperately to hang on even as he falls under, heat engulfing him completely. He comes, spilling over Jiyong's chest and his own hand, thick white ropes tainting their skin.

Jiyong's lips part as he watches Seunghyun break down in front of him, back arching and head smacking dully against the mirror. His fingers leave soft bruises under his touch, side by side with the ones purpling on his ribs and legs, but of an entirely different caliber. Not designed to cause harm, not like before.

He follows him down the rabbit hole, tipping over the edge with a look of surprise, as though he hadn't seen it coming. Seunghyun catches him as he falls, back aching from the strain. "Come here," he whispers, fingers wet where they drag Jiyong down, into him.

Jiyong presses his mouth to Seunghyun's throat, panting breathes ghosting over damp skin, making him shiver as he holds on tight to him.

There's a shift, Jiyong pulling out of his body, but pulling him closer, lifting him from the counter and had Seunghyun more energy, he thinks he'd be indignant about being treated like an invalid. As it is, he brings their mouths together instead, kissing him in lieu of breathing.

It's something of a mystery that a creature visibly shorter and slighter than him should be able to carry him, but Jiyong manages it without any effort. He presses Seunghyun into the bathroom door as he fumbles for the doorknob and it's all the reprieve Seunghyun needs to catch his breath.

"Stop," he murmurs, licking chapped lips. "Put me down, you'll... you'll hurt yourself."

Jiyong nips at his ear in childish reproof. "You're not that heavy. And you've been walking on a bad leg all day, which is stupid, so you should just be quiet."

For a man who's been held down and used for the better part of his life, Jiyong is anything but a pushover. Seunghyun loves him all the more for it. "I feel better, aheri. I promise."

Trapped between the door and his lover, he gets the full brunt of Jiyong's unamused look, as well as the firm kiss that's pressed to his mouth. Most likely to shut him up.

"Of course you do. You're not walking on a dislocated knee."

He drops one leg to the floor and then the other, ignoring his lover's protests. "Help me to bed, then." He might not know much about Ahma physiology - and not for the first time, he wishes Daesung was here with them, watching like he used to - but Jiyong is precious to him. He doesn't want him to hurt.

"Stupid human," Jiyong grumbles, reluctantly letting him take his own weight, his dark eyes glittering with concern. "That's what I was doing."

The ire seems to last only a moment, the Ahma sliding an arm around his waist insistently, opening the bathroom door. He can practically feel the worry rolling off him in waves, remembers the quiet, too-serious face Jiyong had worn as he'd watched him, closed-off, and indulges the care taken.

They slip into bed over rough, military-issue sheets and it's already a million times better than the nights spent in his bed on the ship. The pillows are softer. Seunghyun sinks into them, bones aching with every move. It feels wrong to take this time, to forget the pressure they're under and the threat they face, but if he doesn't, he thinks he'll fall apart. Jiyong presses against his back, warm and alien and gentle, as though sensing his thoughts.

"You know," he murmurs, speaking into Seunghyun's hair, his breath warm over his nape. "You haven't had a decent night's sleep since you met me."

Seunghyun smiles at that, the expression half-hidden into the pillow, eyes closed. "No. But I've had some decent nights since I've met you. Better than."

He can feel Jiyong's answering smile against his shoulder.

"I'll keep watch," he tells him, pulling the covers up around Seunghyun's bruised body. He doesn't need to, but Seunghyun doesn't get to tell him as much.

He falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, drowning in his lover's scent, in his body heat. The sense of safety he feels in his arms.

*

Soft voices drag him out of half-remembered dreams, the world dark behind his eyelids, enough to let him know the room has dimmed. The latent solider in him, excised by this place, by the stakes they're up against, lets awareness come to him first, keeping his eyes shut.

Jiyong is talking, his voice low enough that it almost takes Seunghyun a moment to put together what he's saying. The tone along with the soft pass of Jiyong's fingers through his hair reassures him, but he doesn't open his eyes. Listens quietly instead.

"You don't have to apologize," Jiyong murmurs quietly, a warm edge to his voice. "We've missed you, too. This doesn't feel anything like what I thought it would." His hand stills for a brief moment. "It's better. We're all alive, aren't we? For a moment there, I didn't think we'd make it."

Daesung's soft voice answers him, something in Seunghyun easing that much further.

"As a computer, I have to tell you the odds weren't in our favor. Thankfully, dumb luck is never really factored into such equations."

"Thankfully," Jiyong repeats, laughing quietly. "I'm glad you made it out okay. We were worried... Seungri was worried parts of your programming didn't transfer correctly. There was a lot more of you than we thought."

"Are you calling me fat?" Daesung teases, defaulting to a calculated sense of humor he'd never let go of once learned. "I trusted you to get the important things. Gaps can be filled."

There's a momentary silence, and Seunghyun can almost feel two pairs of eyes on his back.

"Did you know he was a soldier?" Jiyong asks quietly, curiously, fingers slipping through Seunghyun's long grown-out cut. "I didn't know that." Another quiet pause. "I wish I knew more."

"I ran a full background check on him when he joined the crew," Daesung replies, sounding more than a little bit proud. "Birth records, medical records... parking tickets. I'll show you sometime. He had a super boring life. Until he met you, at least."

Jiyong laughs, and Seunghyun pictures the way his eyes shine, how they go small when he smiles for real. He doesn't even mind the slight.

There's another stretch of silence before Jiyong speaks up again, the bed shifting next to Seunghyun.

"I wish Youngbae wasn't hurt. Seungri...he thinks it's his fault."

Daesung scoffs. "Why would he think that? Was he running around with a mental probe on a Nabu ship? Besides, Youngbae isn't hurt. He's... indisposed. He's gone off to that happy place his people go to when they want to take a sabbatical."

Whatever that means, Seunghyun thinks privately, feeling none too charitable. He saw Youngbae on that metal slab. He looked gone.

The uncertainty in the air suggests Jiyong's thoughts are similar.

"He's not talking. In here." Seunghyun pictures the tap of two fingers against Jiyong's temple. "He's just...lying there and he didn't...how can he not be hurt?"

There's a shift of electricity in the air and he pictures Daesung moving closer, possibly sitting beside them. They're one incestuous fucking crew, that's for sure. Seunghyun isn't sure he minds it.

"He went away so he wouldn't let them hurt him," the hologram explains. "Because we need him in one piece and Youngbae was always careful about letting people down." They all know he means Seungri but none of them says it.

Jiyong sighs. "I suppose you'd know. You're the only one of us who can pick up his brain waves, right?" He plants a kiss to Seunghyun's spine. "It's a shame you can't use them to let him know he can come back now. We miss him."

There's a stretch of silence in the air, Jiyong's fingers carefully tucking a slice of Seunghyun's hair behind his ear. He can't help the burden of hope he feels, praying that Daesung is right. That wherever he is inside of his head, Youngbae is intact. Safe.

"Daesung?" Jiyong asks the silent room, confusion in his soft voice. The lights flickered brighter around them, and it's enough to let Seunghyun know the hologram has gone.

A soft sigh, pressure increased at his back, Jiyong curling an arm around his waist.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop on people, aheri," he murmurs into his skin. "It's not polite." The gentleness with which he handles him dispels any thought that he might be upset.

Seunghyun cracks an eye open, turning his head a little to see his lover. "I thought I was dreaming, at first. Where did Daesung disappear off to?"

Jiyong shrugs, unperturbed. "He'll be back."

He can't help but want more of an answer than that, shifting onto his back in Jiyong's arms. Reaches up to push white-blonde bangs from the Ahma's eyes, catching the quirk of a smile.

"Anything you wanna know, you can ask, you know that, right?"

"About you?" Jiyong's voice is amused. His fingers drift over Seunghyun's lips, picking up his breaths and the soft press of a kiss. "When we'll have the time. I want to know everything and it might... take a while."

"We have time now," Seunghyun finds himself protesting as he folds their hands together. "I'm not going anywhere."

Not for a little while, at least. Not until the General finds time to interrogate him some more or the Nabu come down from the sky shooting their powerful weapons at him.

Jiyong sucks in a breath, shaking his head. "No, aheri. The time we have now is not for talking." He kisses him softly, his body pressing Seunghyun's into the mattress. His smile is anything but tentative, his touch all the more so as he slips fingers under the covers to wrap around Seunghyun's length.

"Any complaints?"