[oneshot] from the back of my broken hand
Title: from the back of my broken hand
Pairing: gtop
Rating: r/nc17
Genre: slice-of-life, romance
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: more pointless fic because of reasons. just an excuse to write vague porn, really. 1,792 words.
So they win a triple crown on Inkigayo, which is always nice.
Validation tends to be.
They drive back to HQ and Teddy breaks out a dusty bottle of champagne. At the end of the night, Youngbae's hair looks like a cross between a dead skunk and Jared Leto's mohawk circa 2010. Seungri is sitting gummy-eyed at the mixing console, fiddling with dials he barely knows how to work, and Daesung's talking quietly on the phone.
"Go home," Teddy says, swiveling around in his chair. "Shoo."
Jiyong's too strung out to really argue when they're manhandled through the door and into the van waiting next to the curb. The other three get out at the apartment around the corner. Youngbae sends him a glance before he exits, and maybe something's showing on Jiyong's face because he ends up saying nothing, just waves and slams the car door shut behind him.
Seunghyun's place is a legitimate bachelor pad, wide and spacious, minimalist with a splash of garish color here and there from all the figurines lining the walls. Jiyong tosses his jacket on the coffee table and collapses into the buttery suede of the sofa, nearly knocks one of the bearbricks off the end table.
Seunghyun takes a shower and comes back out in sweats and a baggy t-shirt. He drags a beanbag over to the foot of the couch, sinks down onto it because he's five years old, apparently, and owns this shit. "Hyuksoo wants to know if we can go out tonight," he says, fingers sliding over his iPad. "He tried to text you but your phone was off."
Jiyong lifts the arm thrown over his face and lets out a noncommittal grunt.
"Is that a no?" He sounds amused.
"You can go, if you want," Jiyong says, yawning. "I'm tired."
"I know," Seunghyun says, and there's something in his voice that makes Jiyong sit up a little, eyes darting over to stare at the turquoise of Seunghyun's damp hair.
"Sorry," Jiyong says, and Seunghyun twists his head back to frown at him.
"Why are you apologizing?"
Jiyong shrugs.
"Have you been sleeping at all?"
"I have work to do," he hedges. "New songs aren't going to write themselves."
Seunghyun raises an eyebrow. "That's not what I asked."
"I know," Jiyong says, blinking slowly. "Maybe two hours a day?"
There's no surprise on Seunghyun's face, just a sort of familiar resignation. "I figured."
"Did you."
"Go to sleep," he says, reaching over his shoulder to turn out the lamp.
Jiyong grabs his wrist before can get to the light and just holds it.
The corner of Seunghyun's mouth turns up. "You really should sleep," he points out. "Early recording day tomorrow."
"Thanks for your input," Jiyong says, stretching his legs out languidly. "C'mere."
"Oh, we're doing this?" Seunghyun replies, voice dry. He sets the iPad on the end table and lets Jiyong tug him up. "I thought you were tired."
"There's a difference between being tired and wanting to sleep."
"Okay," Seunghyun says, and settles over him like a blanket, as if he's the only thing keeping Jiyong from floating away.
"Fucking oof," Jiyong murmurs, but doesn't move to push him away, lets Seunghyun slide warm hands under his shirt. They graze against his ribcage and rub smooth circles into the skin there until Jiyong has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Taking my sweet time," he says. "I learned this shit from Jaesang."
Jiyong chokes, shoves a knee against Seunghyun's thigh. "I really don't want to know what he's been teaching you about anything, especially not this-"
"Calm down," Seunghyun says, laughing into the shell of his ear. "I meant relaxation tips, you asshole."
"I'm relaxed," he snaps. "Now, kiss me."
Seunghyun rolls his eyes. "You're so demanding."
"Yes. And?"
"I always knew you were using me for my body," he says, laughing, and then he's breathing into Jiyong's mouth. He tastes like toothpaste and smells like shampoo, warm and familiar, and Jiyong can feel the tense muscles of his own shoulders loosening a little. A leg presses snugly in between Jiyong's and he sighs, tilts his head back and tugs at the waistband of Seunghyun's pants.
Seunghyun shifts back, reaches down to pop the button of Jiyong's jeans and slip a hand into his boxer briefs, thumb brushing the underside of Jiyong's dick.
"Fuck-"
Seunghyun smiles into the line of his jaw. Somehow, Jiyong manages to wiggle out of his skinny jeans and underwear as Seunghyun shucks his sweats-and then Seunghyun's palming their erections, his other arm braced next to Jiyong's head. He bends down to press his mouth to Jiyong's neck, sucks at the hollow of his collarbone.
"Move," Jiyong gasps, snapping his hips up. Seunghyun curls his hand, pulling with a jerky, erratic rhythm, and Jiyong leans up to kiss him again, tongue brushing the roof of Seunghyun's mouth and teeth grazing his bottom lip.
He loops his arms over Seunghyun's shoulders and arches his back, the crown of his head pushing into the armrest. Seunghyun presses him down with his chest and squeezes the tip of his cock, grip just tight enough for friction-and Jiyong's coming, his spine drawn in tight like a coiled spring, a muted whine escaping from the back of his throat.
He exhales shakily and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes before reaching down to tug at Seunghyun's erection. A couple more strokes and he folds, arms locking, panting hard against Jiyong's neck.
Jiyong draws an index finger through the come drying on his stomach and sticks it in his mouth. Seunghyun laughs and kisses him, a faint tinge of mint still on his breath, and wipes the semen off with the edge of his shirt. "Feel better?" he asks, voice low and husky.
"I could sleep, maybe," Jiyong says, and it's true-his body feels slack and comfortable, even though Seunghyun's half-crushing him into the sofa and the awkward tangle of their legs might cause problems in the morning.
"So, I own a bed," Seunghyun mumbles, his hair tickling Jiyong's ear.
"Don't want to move."
He can feel the corners of Seunghyun's mouth lift against his shoulder. "Yeah," he says. "Me neither."
He gets a good six hours in before Seunghyun clattering around the apartment wakes him up. It takes a while for his head to clear after being dead to the world for so long, but he manages to drag himself off the couch to jump into the shower, laughs a little at the ridiculously expensive conditioner next to the shampoo.
He rinses his mouth out and pulls yesterday's crumpled clothing back on, accepts the mug of coffee Seunghyun hands him in the kitchen. There's steamed egg on the counter and Jiyong spoons some into his mouth, grabs a bread roll for the road.
Paltry remnants from Teddy's dinner and the empty bottle of champagne are still sitting in the studio when they walk in. Jiyong rolls his eyes and clears it out, wipes the table down with a couple of paper towels. Seunghyun starts pounding a vaguely familiar bass line out of the monitors and Jiyong sequesters himself in the back, flipping through the pages of his tattered notebook and chewing on the end of his pencil.
Teddy and Youngbae wander in an hour later to do some recording. They have dance practice for Springroove and a meeting about the world tour in the afternoon. By the end of it, Jiyong's cobbled together basic lyrics for another song, has it all spaced out in his head and scribbled into the margins of one of Minsuk's handouts.
"That looks really good," Seunghyun says over his shoulder. Jiyong jumps a little and realizes everyone else has filed out of the conference room. "Sleeping like a normal person helps a lot with productivity, you know."
"When have I ever been normal?" Jiyong asks, half-serious.
Seunghyun furrows his brow.
"Whatever," he continues hastily, and folds the paper into his jacket pocket. "Sleep is for the weak."
"I'm so sure."
"Listen," Jiyong says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You know I have to do this."
"I don't know that, no," Seunghyun says. He folds his arms. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"
"Not sure if you heard," he says icily, "but we have three different albums to write and record and produce."
"The operative word here being we."
"Just because other people are working on them doesn't mean I'm supposed to sit back and let them do everything for me."
"No one's asking you to do that," Seunghyun says. "Just because you're good at your job doesn't mean you have to be the only one getting two hours of downtime a day."
"That's how it works. I have to do this-for the company, for the public. For everyone."
"What about what you want?"
Jiyong frowns. "I do want this."
Seunghyun sends him a look of disbelief. "You do."
"I chose it, didn't I?"
"And what is it you think they want from you?"
"No one cares about who I am or what I want, Seunghyun," he says, and receives a blank stare in reply. "Just what I can give them."
Seunghyun grabs his shoulder so hard that it hurts. "That's bullshit. How are you supposed to give them something real if there's nothing in what you write that's grounded in reality? Don't be stupid, Jiyong. Why would they want something soulless?"
"I-"
"They want you, they see you," he says, and Jiyong hears I want you and I see you in it too, the truth of it intertwining intimately in Seunghyun's voice, and-okay. Okay.
"Okay," he says out loud, and Seunghyun freezes for a second, as if surprised he was able to eke any sort of agreement out of him, which-yeah, Jiyong's been known to be a little pigheaded. Whatever. He fishes the piece of paper out of his pocket and waves it in Seunghyun's face. "Help me with the beat for this?"
"Dinner first," he says, eyebrows raised, and Jiyong laughs.
"Fine, mother." They get bibimbap delivered in and Seunghyun nearly spills gochujang all over the soundboard. Twice. He and Youngbae do get some recording done at the end of the day, though, so Jiyong can't really bring himself to care about the red smudges covering his rap notation.
Seunghyun drags him back to his place again later. They actually make it to the bed this time, but Jiyong really is too exhausted to do much besides roll over and ensconce himself in the sheets, Seunghyun's arm tossed over his waist. "You take up too much goddamn room," Seunghyun remarks idly, shifting behind him.
"Deal with it," he says, and buries his face into the pillow.
Seunghyun chuckles. Jiyong sleeps.
fin
A/N: title from "all these things that i've done" by the killers.
Pairing: gtop
Rating: r/nc17
Genre: slice-of-life, romance
Warnings: swearing, sexual themes
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: more pointless fic because of reasons. just an excuse to write vague porn, really. 1,792 words.
So they win a triple crown on Inkigayo, which is always nice.
Validation tends to be.
They drive back to HQ and Teddy breaks out a dusty bottle of champagne. At the end of the night, Youngbae's hair looks like a cross between a dead skunk and Jared Leto's mohawk circa 2010. Seungri is sitting gummy-eyed at the mixing console, fiddling with dials he barely knows how to work, and Daesung's talking quietly on the phone.
"Go home," Teddy says, swiveling around in his chair. "Shoo."
Jiyong's too strung out to really argue when they're manhandled through the door and into the van waiting next to the curb. The other three get out at the apartment around the corner. Youngbae sends him a glance before he exits, and maybe something's showing on Jiyong's face because he ends up saying nothing, just waves and slams the car door shut behind him.
Seunghyun's place is a legitimate bachelor pad, wide and spacious, minimalist with a splash of garish color here and there from all the figurines lining the walls. Jiyong tosses his jacket on the coffee table and collapses into the buttery suede of the sofa, nearly knocks one of the bearbricks off the end table.
Seunghyun takes a shower and comes back out in sweats and a baggy t-shirt. He drags a beanbag over to the foot of the couch, sinks down onto it because he's five years old, apparently, and owns this shit. "Hyuksoo wants to know if we can go out tonight," he says, fingers sliding over his iPad. "He tried to text you but your phone was off."
Jiyong lifts the arm thrown over his face and lets out a noncommittal grunt.
"Is that a no?" He sounds amused.
"You can go, if you want," Jiyong says, yawning. "I'm tired."
"I know," Seunghyun says, and there's something in his voice that makes Jiyong sit up a little, eyes darting over to stare at the turquoise of Seunghyun's damp hair.
"Sorry," Jiyong says, and Seunghyun twists his head back to frown at him.
"Why are you apologizing?"
Jiyong shrugs.
"Have you been sleeping at all?"
"I have work to do," he hedges. "New songs aren't going to write themselves."
Seunghyun raises an eyebrow. "That's not what I asked."
"I know," Jiyong says, blinking slowly. "Maybe two hours a day?"
There's no surprise on Seunghyun's face, just a sort of familiar resignation. "I figured."
"Did you."
"Go to sleep," he says, reaching over his shoulder to turn out the lamp.
Jiyong grabs his wrist before can get to the light and just holds it.
The corner of Seunghyun's mouth turns up. "You really should sleep," he points out. "Early recording day tomorrow."
"Thanks for your input," Jiyong says, stretching his legs out languidly. "C'mere."
"Oh, we're doing this?" Seunghyun replies, voice dry. He sets the iPad on the end table and lets Jiyong tug him up. "I thought you were tired."
"There's a difference between being tired and wanting to sleep."
"Okay," Seunghyun says, and settles over him like a blanket, as if he's the only thing keeping Jiyong from floating away.
"Fucking oof," Jiyong murmurs, but doesn't move to push him away, lets Seunghyun slide warm hands under his shirt. They graze against his ribcage and rub smooth circles into the skin there until Jiyong has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Taking my sweet time," he says. "I learned this shit from Jaesang."
Jiyong chokes, shoves a knee against Seunghyun's thigh. "I really don't want to know what he's been teaching you about anything, especially not this-"
"Calm down," Seunghyun says, laughing into the shell of his ear. "I meant relaxation tips, you asshole."
"I'm relaxed," he snaps. "Now, kiss me."
Seunghyun rolls his eyes. "You're so demanding."
"Yes. And?"
"I always knew you were using me for my body," he says, laughing, and then he's breathing into Jiyong's mouth. He tastes like toothpaste and smells like shampoo, warm and familiar, and Jiyong can feel the tense muscles of his own shoulders loosening a little. A leg presses snugly in between Jiyong's and he sighs, tilts his head back and tugs at the waistband of Seunghyun's pants.
Seunghyun shifts back, reaches down to pop the button of Jiyong's jeans and slip a hand into his boxer briefs, thumb brushing the underside of Jiyong's dick.
"Fuck-"
Seunghyun smiles into the line of his jaw. Somehow, Jiyong manages to wiggle out of his skinny jeans and underwear as Seunghyun shucks his sweats-and then Seunghyun's palming their erections, his other arm braced next to Jiyong's head. He bends down to press his mouth to Jiyong's neck, sucks at the hollow of his collarbone.
"Move," Jiyong gasps, snapping his hips up. Seunghyun curls his hand, pulling with a jerky, erratic rhythm, and Jiyong leans up to kiss him again, tongue brushing the roof of Seunghyun's mouth and teeth grazing his bottom lip.
He loops his arms over Seunghyun's shoulders and arches his back, the crown of his head pushing into the armrest. Seunghyun presses him down with his chest and squeezes the tip of his cock, grip just tight enough for friction-and Jiyong's coming, his spine drawn in tight like a coiled spring, a muted whine escaping from the back of his throat.
He exhales shakily and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes before reaching down to tug at Seunghyun's erection. A couple more strokes and he folds, arms locking, panting hard against Jiyong's neck.
Jiyong draws an index finger through the come drying on his stomach and sticks it in his mouth. Seunghyun laughs and kisses him, a faint tinge of mint still on his breath, and wipes the semen off with the edge of his shirt. "Feel better?" he asks, voice low and husky.
"I could sleep, maybe," Jiyong says, and it's true-his body feels slack and comfortable, even though Seunghyun's half-crushing him into the sofa and the awkward tangle of their legs might cause problems in the morning.
"So, I own a bed," Seunghyun mumbles, his hair tickling Jiyong's ear.
"Don't want to move."
He can feel the corners of Seunghyun's mouth lift against his shoulder. "Yeah," he says. "Me neither."
He gets a good six hours in before Seunghyun clattering around the apartment wakes him up. It takes a while for his head to clear after being dead to the world for so long, but he manages to drag himself off the couch to jump into the shower, laughs a little at the ridiculously expensive conditioner next to the shampoo.
He rinses his mouth out and pulls yesterday's crumpled clothing back on, accepts the mug of coffee Seunghyun hands him in the kitchen. There's steamed egg on the counter and Jiyong spoons some into his mouth, grabs a bread roll for the road.
Paltry remnants from Teddy's dinner and the empty bottle of champagne are still sitting in the studio when they walk in. Jiyong rolls his eyes and clears it out, wipes the table down with a couple of paper towels. Seunghyun starts pounding a vaguely familiar bass line out of the monitors and Jiyong sequesters himself in the back, flipping through the pages of his tattered notebook and chewing on the end of his pencil.
Teddy and Youngbae wander in an hour later to do some recording. They have dance practice for Springroove and a meeting about the world tour in the afternoon. By the end of it, Jiyong's cobbled together basic lyrics for another song, has it all spaced out in his head and scribbled into the margins of one of Minsuk's handouts.
"That looks really good," Seunghyun says over his shoulder. Jiyong jumps a little and realizes everyone else has filed out of the conference room. "Sleeping like a normal person helps a lot with productivity, you know."
"When have I ever been normal?" Jiyong asks, half-serious.
Seunghyun furrows his brow.
"Whatever," he continues hastily, and folds the paper into his jacket pocket. "Sleep is for the weak."
"I'm so sure."
"Listen," Jiyong says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You know I have to do this."
"I don't know that, no," Seunghyun says. He folds his arms. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"
"Not sure if you heard," he says icily, "but we have three different albums to write and record and produce."
"The operative word here being we."
"Just because other people are working on them doesn't mean I'm supposed to sit back and let them do everything for me."
"No one's asking you to do that," Seunghyun says. "Just because you're good at your job doesn't mean you have to be the only one getting two hours of downtime a day."
"That's how it works. I have to do this-for the company, for the public. For everyone."
"What about what you want?"
Jiyong frowns. "I do want this."
Seunghyun sends him a look of disbelief. "You do."
"I chose it, didn't I?"
"And what is it you think they want from you?"
"No one cares about who I am or what I want, Seunghyun," he says, and receives a blank stare in reply. "Just what I can give them."
Seunghyun grabs his shoulder so hard that it hurts. "That's bullshit. How are you supposed to give them something real if there's nothing in what you write that's grounded in reality? Don't be stupid, Jiyong. Why would they want something soulless?"
"I-"
"They want you, they see you," he says, and Jiyong hears I want you and I see you in it too, the truth of it intertwining intimately in Seunghyun's voice, and-okay. Okay.
"Okay," he says out loud, and Seunghyun freezes for a second, as if surprised he was able to eke any sort of agreement out of him, which-yeah, Jiyong's been known to be a little pigheaded. Whatever. He fishes the piece of paper out of his pocket and waves it in Seunghyun's face. "Help me with the beat for this?"
"Dinner first," he says, eyebrows raised, and Jiyong laughs.
"Fine, mother." They get bibimbap delivered in and Seunghyun nearly spills gochujang all over the soundboard. Twice. He and Youngbae do get some recording done at the end of the day, though, so Jiyong can't really bring himself to care about the red smudges covering his rap notation.
Seunghyun drags him back to his place again later. They actually make it to the bed this time, but Jiyong really is too exhausted to do much besides roll over and ensconce himself in the sheets, Seunghyun's arm tossed over his waist. "You take up too much goddamn room," Seunghyun remarks idly, shifting behind him.
"Deal with it," he says, and buries his face into the pillow.
Seunghyun chuckles. Jiyong sleeps.
fin
A/N: title from "all these things that i've done" by the killers.