(no subject)
title: i've got a dark alley and a bad idea
(that says you should shut your mouth)
pairing: TOP/jiyong/daesung
rating: r
a/n: okay, another awful short little drabble thing, this time based on and horribly influenced by a fall out boy song, PLEASE don't kill me, hence the title. friend requested fic and the idea so i did it! what would happen with TOP, jiyong, and daesung in an open three-way sort of thing. second bb fic, i'm sorry for the suck. ♥
(x-posted to yokshim)
and the lies just won't stop slipping
When Jiyong kisses him, it's something strange--it feels like nothing else, and yet it feels like everything, it feels like every other person in the world, like the lips and tongues and teeth of a million other girls, and he can practically taste their initial aversion, and then slowly, they sink into the warmth like he does, wrapped in the emotions of a million other girls, and maybe this is how it should be.
Jiyong's arms touch his with reverence, with a permissive shyness that even Daesung is almost fooled by. But Jiyong is not shy, and he's not an innocent--Daesung's hands wander where a million other girls have touched, trace paths that mouths have, before, or dainty fingernails; his breath finds skin already tainted and covered with the heat of others, and the legs around his waist have done so much better, he has to think, because Jiyong really sounds so fake--Dae, Jiyong gasps, Dae, don't stop--
It's something strange, the way his heart seems crushed in the press of their chests together, as if all the tendons and veins shielding it are truly made of sand and nothing more, tiny particles that melt and slide with the drip of sweat from their bodies, which sticks at their skin and tightens muscles, an invisible liquid heat that Daesung can feel as a curl, a low hook in the pit of his stomach.
Daesungie--he hears it this time through a haze, and from somewhere else he can see his body moving, his hands foolishly covering the fingerprints of prior activity, and is there a point to it? His palms are bigger, yes, his touch is rougher, but not by much; Jiyong's body is lithe, feline, and he cannot help but treat it with reverie, and every breath is a breath of eagerness, struggling out some sort of reaction, something, from the older man, because wouldn't that make him the winner?
If only I could push him this way, Daesung thinks, if only I could touch him like no girl ever has.
More; Jiyong's voice is a sweet melody in his ear, and Daesung can do nothing but obey, and Jiyong's hand shadows his, guiding it between their bodies, a gasp, the shift of fabric, and Daesung wonders how he compares--do the girls hold it harder? Do they know how to space their fingers, do they know how Jiyong squirms, jerks, gasps and cries out, do they know this? Do they know how stiff he feels? Are they capable of doing him this hard?
Daesung's skin is a canvas, dark, but the base coat is untainted--
Jiyong's body shines with hand prints and teeth marks that only glow to the sharpest scrutiny in the dim lighting, and Daesung closes his eyes.
and besides my reputation's on the line
Warm arms and soft kisses, the touch of lips that decorate his hair--it would be impossible to stay awake, but he can't help but cling to sanity, to some sort of awkward near consciousness that reminds him that yes, this is real, yes, this is what reality is.
Seunghyun's hands always feel him over with a lone sense of possession. In all honesty, there is nothing there to possess or desire--Daesung feels strange and used, and it's almost like there is nothing left inside to pick apart, and he struggles with breath.
"Daedae," Seunghyun murmurs into his hair, and there's another kiss, this one just as delicate; "Baby," Seunghyun coos, and his fingers are skimming under the purple fabric that shields skin from air; "Talk to me," Seunghyun urges, and he's purposeful and rough, a black to the white of his words, as his fingertips press into the back of Daesung's neck, firm.
There's something safe here--in the pitch black darkness of the room, with Youngbae sleeping only feet away, soft sounds, a wheezing exhale, Daesung feels like the only things in the world are Seunghyun and him. The comforter is warm, and Seunghyun's hands slide beneath it, hidden and secretive, touching him in tender places, urging out a purr, a moan, and Daesung's body reacts automatically, unable to differentiate between the lengthy touch and the voice in his ear.
At some point, they just blend together.
"Baby," Seunghyun says in a whisper of moisture along the shell of Daesung's ear. "Baby, tell me where it's good."
And in the pitch black darkness of the room, with Youngbae sleeping only feet away, Daesung feels like maybe they are just hiding, like maybe Seunghyun's hands are not languid but hurried, as though they seek to erase any scent or trace of anyone else that seeps and permeates Daesung's skin if only for the sake of doing so.
But Daesung can't tell himself that he hates how good it feels to have Seunghyun's hot frame pinned against his. So he closes his eyes.
i'm hopelessly hopeful, you're just hopeless enough
Jiyong's sitting with his legs stretched out across Seunghyun's lap and Daesung's hands are buried in a bowl of popcorn. Mechanical, in and out, and the television screen has become a blur to him, a wave of colours that washes past his eyes in no meaningful pattern.
Seunghyun's hand is limp in his, but the other cups Jiyong's thigh, groping up it, a gentle squeeze to his hip, and Jiyong laughs; it's a soft sound, one that doesn't fit with the constant blue-screen buzz that's burning and tearing across Daesung's mind. He can't think.
Jiyong looks at him but Daesung can't compute the hidden meanings - he's tired of them, and Seunghyun either refuses to notice or doesn't, entirely, and his body shifts, lips dancing close to Jiyong's throat.
Daesung's mouth fakes a yawn, he's tired, it's been a long day, and Seunghyun's hand leaves his. Jiyong has a kiss for him, straight and soft to his forehead.
There is something that feels very closed about their relationship when Jiyong and Seunghyun go to Jiyong's room and shut the door.
And Daesung just hides his eyes.
(that says you should shut your mouth)
pairing: TOP/jiyong/daesung
rating: r
a/n: okay, another awful short little drabble thing, this time based on and horribly influenced by a fall out boy song, PLEASE don't kill me, hence the title. friend requested fic and the idea so i did it! what would happen with TOP, jiyong, and daesung in an open three-way sort of thing. second bb fic, i'm sorry for the suck. ♥
(x-posted to yokshim)
and the lies just won't stop slipping
When Jiyong kisses him, it's something strange--it feels like nothing else, and yet it feels like everything, it feels like every other person in the world, like the lips and tongues and teeth of a million other girls, and he can practically taste their initial aversion, and then slowly, they sink into the warmth like he does, wrapped in the emotions of a million other girls, and maybe this is how it should be.
Jiyong's arms touch his with reverence, with a permissive shyness that even Daesung is almost fooled by. But Jiyong is not shy, and he's not an innocent--Daesung's hands wander where a million other girls have touched, trace paths that mouths have, before, or dainty fingernails; his breath finds skin already tainted and covered with the heat of others, and the legs around his waist have done so much better, he has to think, because Jiyong really sounds so fake--Dae, Jiyong gasps, Dae, don't stop--
It's something strange, the way his heart seems crushed in the press of their chests together, as if all the tendons and veins shielding it are truly made of sand and nothing more, tiny particles that melt and slide with the drip of sweat from their bodies, which sticks at their skin and tightens muscles, an invisible liquid heat that Daesung can feel as a curl, a low hook in the pit of his stomach.
Daesungie--he hears it this time through a haze, and from somewhere else he can see his body moving, his hands foolishly covering the fingerprints of prior activity, and is there a point to it? His palms are bigger, yes, his touch is rougher, but not by much; Jiyong's body is lithe, feline, and he cannot help but treat it with reverie, and every breath is a breath of eagerness, struggling out some sort of reaction, something, from the older man, because wouldn't that make him the winner?
If only I could push him this way, Daesung thinks, if only I could touch him like no girl ever has.
More; Jiyong's voice is a sweet melody in his ear, and Daesung can do nothing but obey, and Jiyong's hand shadows his, guiding it between their bodies, a gasp, the shift of fabric, and Daesung wonders how he compares--do the girls hold it harder? Do they know how to space their fingers, do they know how Jiyong squirms, jerks, gasps and cries out, do they know this? Do they know how stiff he feels? Are they capable of doing him this hard?
Daesung's skin is a canvas, dark, but the base coat is untainted--
Jiyong's body shines with hand prints and teeth marks that only glow to the sharpest scrutiny in the dim lighting, and Daesung closes his eyes.
and besides my reputation's on the line
Warm arms and soft kisses, the touch of lips that decorate his hair--it would be impossible to stay awake, but he can't help but cling to sanity, to some sort of awkward near consciousness that reminds him that yes, this is real, yes, this is what reality is.
Seunghyun's hands always feel him over with a lone sense of possession. In all honesty, there is nothing there to possess or desire--Daesung feels strange and used, and it's almost like there is nothing left inside to pick apart, and he struggles with breath.
"Daedae," Seunghyun murmurs into his hair, and there's another kiss, this one just as delicate; "Baby," Seunghyun coos, and his fingers are skimming under the purple fabric that shields skin from air; "Talk to me," Seunghyun urges, and he's purposeful and rough, a black to the white of his words, as his fingertips press into the back of Daesung's neck, firm.
There's something safe here--in the pitch black darkness of the room, with Youngbae sleeping only feet away, soft sounds, a wheezing exhale, Daesung feels like the only things in the world are Seunghyun and him. The comforter is warm, and Seunghyun's hands slide beneath it, hidden and secretive, touching him in tender places, urging out a purr, a moan, and Daesung's body reacts automatically, unable to differentiate between the lengthy touch and the voice in his ear.
At some point, they just blend together.
"Baby," Seunghyun says in a whisper of moisture along the shell of Daesung's ear. "Baby, tell me where it's good."
And in the pitch black darkness of the room, with Youngbae sleeping only feet away, Daesung feels like maybe they are just hiding, like maybe Seunghyun's hands are not languid but hurried, as though they seek to erase any scent or trace of anyone else that seeps and permeates Daesung's skin if only for the sake of doing so.
But Daesung can't tell himself that he hates how good it feels to have Seunghyun's hot frame pinned against his. So he closes his eyes.
i'm hopelessly hopeful, you're just hopeless enough
Jiyong's sitting with his legs stretched out across Seunghyun's lap and Daesung's hands are buried in a bowl of popcorn. Mechanical, in and out, and the television screen has become a blur to him, a wave of colours that washes past his eyes in no meaningful pattern.
Seunghyun's hand is limp in his, but the other cups Jiyong's thigh, groping up it, a gentle squeeze to his hip, and Jiyong laughs; it's a soft sound, one that doesn't fit with the constant blue-screen buzz that's burning and tearing across Daesung's mind. He can't think.
Jiyong looks at him but Daesung can't compute the hidden meanings - he's tired of them, and Seunghyun either refuses to notice or doesn't, entirely, and his body shifts, lips dancing close to Jiyong's throat.
Daesung's mouth fakes a yawn, he's tired, it's been a long day, and Seunghyun's hand leaves his. Jiyong has a kiss for him, straight and soft to his forehead.
There is something that feels very closed about their relationship when Jiyong and Seunghyun go to Jiyong's room and shut the door.
And Daesung just hides his eyes.