Fic: Momentum (Big Bang, G-Dragon/Seungri)
Title: Momentum
Category: Kpop (Big Bang)
Pairing(s): G-Dragon/Seungri
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4900
Summary: AU - inspired by (and taking liberties with) the Strong Baby MV of all things orz. One night, one shot.
Notes: Due to the content, this fic will be locked in a week or so. Ask to be friended, or simply friend this journal and I will friend you back.
This is, Seungri decides, a phenomenal party.
Youngbae always hosts some of the best parties, so Seungri really isn't surprised, but he feels that the point should be made. Right now he has the subtle aftertaste of wine on his tongue and soft skin under his fingers, the girl's large, dark eyes regarding him beneath long lashes as he brushes over the inside of her wrist. The light washes her skin in muted gold, lovely against her black dress and straight hair with its copper highlights. He's easily mesmerized by that touch of flash, like a slow burn, chasing away last night's memory. Seungri wouldn't have minded seeing that beauty again, breathing in her perfume and kissing the tattoo on her back once more, but he is just as content to keep the memory and the gorgeous red rose left on his bed (much nicer than a hopeful note with a phone number).
A scattering of laughter breaks out nearby, and Seungri raises his eyes from the curve of his companion's shoulder to see Daesung entertaining a small crowd. Their gazes meet for a moment, and when Daesung notes the girl at Seungri's side he gives his eyes an exaggerated roll, covertly mouthing, "Whore."
Lifting both brows, Seungri sends back, "Jealous."
A manicured nail travels up the front of his suit, requesting his attention again, and the girl pouts. "Bored with my company so soon?"
"Not nearly," he assures, covering her small hand with his own. He grins to himself, mostly because he imagines Daesung's eyes rolling hard enough to spin - but enough about that, that cretin doesn't deserve his attention, while this interested lady certainly does.
Before anything else, though, another commotion intervenes, this one louder than the first. Seungri's head is not the only one that turns when a muffled voice is followed by a crash, then a door from a backroom opens and a bristling man storms out. He looks young - very young, but Seungri knows better than most how appearances can be deceiving. His shirt is rumpled, tie askew, and his styled hair shows signs of mistreatment from agitated fingers. In short, he's a spectacle, and he doesn't seem to care one bit. Youngbae follows after him, looking a little worried and a lot harried, grasping an arm and saying something low into the man's ear.
The man slumps for a moment with his eyes shut and face tilted towards the ceiling in what appears to be surrender, but then he goes rigid again and shakes Youngbae off. "My God, I can't deal with this bullshit. I can't anymore, and I am not overreacting because these restrictions are insane. You know-"
"Jiyong," Youngbae interrupts, more pleading now than placating. "I know, I understand, and I will talk to the company. I promise. But right now, I think you've had a little too much to drink. We can handle this in the morning."
Jiyong looks at Youngbae and the whole room goes tense, watching the drama unfold, and suddenly Jiyong throws his arms around Youngbae in a hug. Youngbae seems more relieved than surprised at the turn of affection. "Thanks," Jiyong says, voice thick. "I mean it, thanks. You are the best friend I could ever ask for, the friend that I didn't ask for at all, you are..."
"I know, I know," Youngbae repeats, patting the other man on the back while smiling reassuringly at the guests, as if this happens normally.
"Goodness," murmurs the girl from Seungri's side as they both watch things wind down. "I wonder what that was about."
Seungri wonders as well.
* * * * *
The girl leaves him after a while when no amount of pouting and flirting can fully recapture his attention. He feels mild regret watching her float away to find someone new. The girls - it's not as if they mean nothing. They mean a lot for however long they're with him.
Free for the time being, though, Seungri wanders over to where Youngbae is exchanging some words with the bartender. Youngbae points in a direction, and when Seungri follows it he sees Jiyong laughing along with several others as Daesung holds his glass like a microphone and belts out some lines from a popular song.
"Sure thing," the bartender says, nodding. "But I can't do anything if he's just going to drink someone else's." He says the last part as Jiyong steals Daesung's glass, ignoring his squawk of protest, and tips back the remaining liquid.
Youngbae laughs in spite of himself, shaking his head ruefully. "Yeah, well, I'll just pray for a miracle then." Then he catches sight of Seungri, and his face lights up. "You made it! I thought you might be busy this weekend."
"You know how it is - all work and no play..." Youngbae grins and lightly punches his arm. Seungri smiles back. "Great party, as usual. You really outdid yourself this time with the entertainment."
Youngbae rolls his eyes - Seungri wonders why everyone does that around him - and lets out a sigh. "I would apologize for him, but it sounds like I don't need to."
"Who is he, anyway?" Seungri tries not to sound too curious, but then, that might be all right. People tell him he's straightforward, and he doesn't consider that a bad thing.
"Jiyong, he's..." Youngbae gets that thoughtful expression on his face like he always does when he's answering a difficult question. "He's not exactly new. He's been active in America for the past few years under the penname G-Dragon, and, er, you could say that he's finding the cultural transition...problematic."
"Ah," Seungri says in understanding, the previous scene making sense now. "I suppose with the censorship issues going around lately..."
"Yeah, exactly. And with Jiyong, well, it's his way or the highway."
"Sounds like you're close." This time Youngbae gives him a look, more questioning than accusing, and Seungri responds with the guileless smile that usually gets him out of trouble.
"Well... We're old friends. We worked together when, hell, when we were just kids. You know my GDYB stuff? That was with Jiyong - 'GD'."
Seungri makes a show of being surprised. "That was a while ago."
"...Why do I feel slightly insulted?"
"I'm calling you old."
"Old, am I?" Youngbae turns again to the bartender and jerks his thumb at Seungri. "He's underage. Don't give him any drinks."
"I'm calling you short, too!" Seungri shouts at Youngbae's far-too-smug retreating back.
* * * * *
It takes a while before Seungri decides to venture over to where Jiyong is sitting and nodding along to whatever the woman in front of him is rambling about. He has the look of one growing increasingly bored. Seungri tells himself he's not working up his nerve because he shouldn't have to, and that he only swiped Daesung's second glass of wine to be a nuisance. He sips at the drink, wetting his mouth, and almost sputters unattractively when Jiyong suddenly looks up and catches his eye with a sly, secretive grin.
In the end it's Jiyong who comes to him. He walks over and smoothly slips an arm through Seungri's, closing in tight to his side. Seungri breathes in and knows the scent of expensive cologne when it teases his senses. "I need to be rescued from a dreadfully boring fate," Jiyong confides, indicating with a low sweep of his eyes to the woman he's abandoned. When he looks up, his whole face seems to be laughing. "And you looked available."
Seungri glances over Jiyong's shoulder to give the woman a reflexive smile and wave. She hardly seems to notice, already engaged with someone else. "I think you're safe."
"My hero," Jiyong says with a ridiculous flutter of his eyelashes, long and dark with makeup. Ridiculous, yet oddly appropriate with his pretty face.
They end up at the bar, where Jiyong is automatically handed a glass of water. The bartender eyes Seungri's stolen drink with significance, but says nothing about it, not even when Seungri grins cheekily and raises the glass to his lips. It occurs to him that Younbae's prayers have been answered, for Jiyong looks and sounds much more sober than he was an hour ago. His clothes are straightened, though his sleeves are casually rolled up, and his hair is still slightly, attractively, mussed. He must be aware, and he must enjoy the way people notice him.
Jiyong swirls his water idly and makes the ice clink. "So what's your name, kid?"
That makes Seungri bristle a bit. Nobody calls him that, not at places like this. If anything, he looks old for his age, and he can get away with it, too. Jiyong just seems to grin lazily at him, the corners of his mouth curling cat-like as he perches on a bar stool, letting one leg dangle. He's probably the only person in the room daring enough to wear leather pants at a classy gathering such as this. Is it because he lived in America, or is it purely him?
"...I'm Seunghyun," Seungri eventually answers with only a touch of sullenness. He startles when Jiyong laughs, and it carries a weird note that makes Seungri wonder if Jiyong is still rather drunk after all.
"Really? Oh, don't look at me like I'm crazy, I have a friend - a good friend - also called Seunghyun." He snickers again like it's the funniest thing in the world, a common name like that.
Seungri wonders why Youngbae didn't warn him that Jiyong might be a little unhinged. "Then you can call me Seungri. A lot of people do."
"Seungri," Jiyong repeats, trying out the name, tasting it, and his tongue flicks out across his lip. On second thought, he could be as psychotic as all get-out, and Seungri still might not care. "I'm Jiyong."
"I've heard some of your music," Seungri begins, his words rushing before he remembers to slow down, trying to calm the little jump in his pulse.
"Oh?" Jiyong's eyes brighten and the grin stretching over his face could almost be shy.
"...From GDYB," Seungri finishes sheepishly.
"Oh." Jiyong laughs, catches his breath and then laughs some more in delight. "That's... Wow, that feels like a long time ago."
"I liked it, though." He's not lying, but it takes some effort to think back that far. Not many people know about Youngbae's activities before he debuted as Taeyang. Seungri wonders why Jiyong went to America instead, considers asking, and promptly forgets when he notices the other's dark-lined eyes on him, appraising. He feels a flush creep up his neck and moves to drink from his glass, only to find it empty. The bartender passes him some water.
"So." Jiyong folds his arms atop the bar, and Seungri can't help but notice the slender line of his back. "It seems you know a bit about me. I should hear about you."
"About me?" he unthinkingly parrots, and God, he feels dumb. Slow, and dumb, and at this point he might be a little bit drunk. Seungri rubs his face to hide the heat rising in his cheeks. Most people don't ask about him at places like this. His being here at all would indicate that he's either somebody, or wealthy enough to count, and that's usually all that matters. He doesn't need to talk about himself to flirt.
When the silence goes on for too long, Jiyong tilts his head and comments with a faint smile, "I wasn't planning for that to be a stumper."
Seungri has blown it. Whatever this is, he's certain that he's blown it. "I'm sorry," he sighs, hating his life a little bit. "I'm not usually like this. I mean... Sorry."
Jiyong has that look that Seungri hates: the oh-he's-totally-adorable look. The only time that's ever okay anymore is when it's coming from his mother or one of his terrifying aunts. "Hey, don't worry. So how 'bout, hmm..."
Seungri ponders how much it would take to bribe the bartender into giving him more liquor.
"...We could skip the boring part and get right to the fun part?"
Wait, what?
Jiyong's eyes are narrow and his smirk is sharp, all edges asking to be tested. "What do you say?"
Very slowly, Seungri wets his lips. "Depends," he hedges, like he's approaching a cliff and not quite sure that looking down is a good idea. Not sure if he's going to jump or be pushed. "What's your idea of fun?"
Jiyong shrugs his slim shoulders. "Up to you."
Up to him. Seungri has never needed to think twice when it's up to him. He's the sort to jump first and ask later, if later ever happens. "Okay. Let's go."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Jiyong tells him happily.
* * * * *
Jiyong lets out a low whistle when they arrive at Seungri's apartment. "You're not bad off for a student."
"How do you know I'm a student?" Seungri demands. He's about to take off his shoes, but he waits in case he needs them to kick Jiyong out the door.
"What else would you be, this close to the university? I'm just relieved you're not in high school."
"You look like you're in high school," Seungri mutters back, and then he's vaguely horrified that he's arguing like a five-year-old now of all times.
"Fortunately, I'm not." Jiyong slides up into his personal space like he has a standing invitation to be there - and maybe he does, because it's not like Seungri minds. He grasps Seungri by the lapels and pushes his coat off his shoulders, helping him out of it. Then he stops with his hands resting on Seungri's arms, light and warm, and he remarks casually into the air, "So here we are, two consenting adults."
Seungri doesn't know what the hell he's expected to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. He takes Jiyong's face in his hands and his skin is as smooth as it looks, the corner of his mouth twitching up when Seungri's thumb brushes over it. His lips part slightly before they're sealed with a kiss.
At first Seungri wanted to take it slow, wanted to impress, to make up for his earlier clumsiness - and, perhaps, to simply prove something. He's not sure what. Jiyong is different, exciting, confounding, and Seungri no longer cares about taking it slow. He's been taken off-guard too many times tonight, so he might as well just give in. Yes, giving in sounds like an excellent idea. He tilts his head to get a better angle for kissing, tongue gliding over lips then teeth while his hands slip down to Jiyong's waist. The man shivers at the light rake of fingers down his sides and closes what little distance remains between their bodies.
Seungri lets out a small gasp at the feel of Jiyong pressing up to him; at the contour of Jiyong's hip against his pelvis and the firm lines of Jiyong's torso, so different from the round curves and pliant flesh of a woman. It's not a completely new feeling, but it's not familiar, either. Seungri slides a hand over Jiyong's thigh and curves around to cup his ass, warming the leather beneath his palm. He distantly wonders how Jiyong even got into pants that molded to his legs so well, but a much more immediate thought is how to remove them. His other hand grabs a fistful of Jiyong's shirt that he tugs and twists to get to the buttons.
Jiyong puts a halt to things with a grip around Seungri's wrist, and then he disentangles himself. His breathing is a bit shallow and rapid, coming from a thoroughly-kissed mouth - Seungri is pleased to notice. Jiyong still manages to arch a warning brow and speak calmly, "This is a nice shirt, and I'd prefer if you didn't yank at it."
Seungri mirrors his look, but his tone is rendered uncommonly low. "Then you better take it off fast."
Jiyong scoffs, but he complies, and his nimble fingers make short work of the buttons. He flicks the fabric aside to bare his chest, teasingly, and then lowers the shirt down his shoulders and arms. With a nonchalance that Seungri finds a little amusing, but mostly maddening, he takes care to fold the article of clothing before hanging it neatly over the back of a chair.
Seungri isn't inclined to wait and comes up behind Jiyong, chest to back, letting his hands explore the newly available skin. Tiny goosebumps prickle across his flesh from the cold since Seungri hasn't turned the thermostat up, and he sees no reason to at this rate. His teeth bite gently at the shell of Jiyong's ear while the pads of his fingers outline the inked letters inside both of Jiyong's forearms.
"'Vita dolce'," Jiyong murmurs, turning his right arm. Next, his left. "'Moderato'."
"And this one?" Seungri asks, curling his touch around Jiyong's shoulder. He can read the last word but doesn't want to pull back to study the rest of it.
Jiyong turns his head to brush his mouth over Seungri's jaw, and Seungri feels his lips move to shape the foreign syllables. "'Too fast to live, too young to die'." He nips at Seungri's skin, then pushes his hips back and rubs, making a noise low in his throat to match Seungri's groan. "Why are you still dressed?"
It's a very good question. Jiyong spins around and immediately gets to work on removing Seungri's shirt. Next, belt. Next, pants. Jiyong is still in that frustratingly sexy leather, which Seungri helpfully points out by palming the bulge straining against the material.
"Fuck," Jiyong breathes out shakily, and Seungri grins triumphant when he finally gets to peel him out of those pants.
When they reach the foot of the bed, Jiyong plants a hand in the center of Seungri's chest and pushes until he obediently lowers onto the mattress, but not without getting a hold on the back of Jiyong's neck and pulling him down as well. The fall is short and startling. Jiyong's frame bumps into him, and getting themselves sorted out is a mixed process of skin sliding on skin and open-mouthed kisses being pressed wherever.
"Up," Jiyong urges with a lick over a hard nipple, and Seungri acquiesces again with hardly a thought, drawing himself to the top of the bed until he's stretched comfortably. Jiyong crawls up the length of his body, keeping him flat with his own weight, and kisses him fast and hard on the mouth. Seungri gasps into him when Jiyong's thigh slides between his legs and puts pressure on his cock just so, just enough to drive him crazy. A breathy laugh fans warm air across his neck, but Jiyong is also grinding against Seungri's hip. Despite that, he still has the cheek to inquire, "You know how this works, right?"
"I'll be more than happy to show you," Seungri retorts, bending his knees and slinging an arm around Jiyong's back for leverage to thrust against him. That's a little better. Still not enough.
"Then by all means." Jiyong shudders in pleasure, and his voice has a low, eager quality to it. "Let me up. Tell me where."
"What? Oh. First drawer. Um, try the second for lube." A square packet hits him in the chest. Seungri picks it off, just in time before Jiyong returns with a pleased little smirk and a bottle of scented massage oil that Seungri forgot he had.
"This is nice stuff," Jiyong comments, settling with a leg on either side of Seungri's waist. Seungri's head falls back against the pillow and he breathes deeply, slowly, because God, the view. Jiyong radiates satisfaction while he uncaps the bottle and tips oil into his palm, filling the air with a spicy fragrance as he rubs it into his hands.
"I thought I was doing the showing." But Seungri isn't exactly averse to this development, either. He trails his fingers down Jiyong's flat stomach and mischievously over his cock.
"I changed my mind-" Jiyong sucks in his breath. "Don't touch that, I'm busy here." Jiyong leans forward a little and braces his free arm against the bed, reaching behind with the other.
Seungri watches, entranced, the expressions that shift across Jiyong's face. There's mostly concentration at first, teeth biting his lower lip and then letting go with a short intake of breath, eyelashes fluttering, mouth partly open. Ripples of pleasure with every catch in his breath. A flush rises to his cheeks and Seungri reaches out to trace over his features, feeling the heat beneath his fingertips. Jiyong arches his neck and that's too tempting to resist, so Seungri pushes himself up to mouth at the column of his exposed throat. Jiyong's pulse quickens under his tongue.
"You okay?" Seungri asks when Jiyong swears under his breath and the arm holding him up shakes, fist clenched in the sheets.
"Fine," he hisses, wriggling in place. "I just- I need- Put on the fucking condom."
Seungri has to reach around Jiyong to do it, and it's just a little distracting with the way the man is spread out on top of him. He manages, though, and then he can't help but follow a hand up Jiyong's thigh to where his slippery fingers are buried inside, circling around them. "Can I...?"
Jiyong nods, moans when Seungri helps spread him and slides another finger in, tight and wet. He pushes gently, and after a few experimental thrusts he matches Jiyong's rhythm, melting him from the inside out. Jiyong sags and sighs, his face blissful for a perfect second before he pitches his voice and begins to repeat, "Now, now, now."
Another hands-off moment as Jiyong sits up, knees spread, and slicks his oiled palms down Seungri's length. The light pressure is just a teaser. Seungri grips Jiyong by the hips to help steady him, cock pressing against his entrance, and Seungri waits for what feels like an unbearably long time until Jiyong sinks slowly down on him. Tight heat all around, and Seungri lets out a fervent profanity while his fingers dig into Jiyong's flesh.
Another span of time passes, and it seems much shorter than the last one, a dizzying flash before Jiyong moves against him with a determined grimace of mixed pleasure-pain. He feels it sweetly with the way his breath hitches and thighs tremble, bracing himself forward to rise, then lower. So slowly. His sweat-damp bangs curl against his forehead, sticking to his skin, and the air is hot and heady with sex. Jiyong pants, reaches for Seungri's hand at his hip and shifts it to his half-hard cock. "Touch me," he commands, and keeping with the pattern of the night, Seungri complies.
He strokes Jiyong to full hardness, fingers smearing through the wetness at the tip and spreading down the stiff length. A little faster, a little more. Seungri gives his hips a roll and is gratified to hear Jiyong's surprised gasp, to feel the change in pace. Seungri makes a loose fist for Jiyong to thrust into as he rides him, watching Jiyong's face, the flick of his tongue over his lip. He's too far away to kiss, which is nothing short of a tragedy, so Seungri cups the back of his neck and draws him down.
Seungri feels drunk again, abandoning rational thought and leaving inhibitions by the wayside. He falls readily into visceral sensation; doing, feeling, and wanting more. He wants Jiyong impossibly closer, grasps at him with hands that smooth over the heated skin of his arching back and the curve of his ass, kisses him greedily with a desperate mouth. Jiyong squirms against him and Seungri squeezes his eyes shut at the contraction around his cock, almost too good to handle. Borderline, razor-edge. He pushes Jiyong down on him, tight and deep and rough.
"Yes, yes, fuck, yes..." Jiyong chants with his wet, swollen mouth, dark eyes glazed and half-lidded; such an image that Seungri will never forget or want to forget, ever, an image he would like to see again. A memory won't be good enough this time, and the realization sends a shock up his spine. Pushes him closer to the edge. The thrill and danger of it are intoxicating.
He's whispering frantic words into the air between them, leaving them to evaporate on Jiyong's skin. Words like, "please," "yes," "Jiyong," they stick and then disappear. Seungri chases them with kisses over his face, his mouth, soft at first and then harder, harsher, matching the way they fuck. Momentum is everything; holding on and then letting go. It carries him to the brink, finally, the overwhelming crash of orgasm, that sudden leap, and then breathless falling.
"God," Jiyong groans out, shuddering, his hand pushing between their bodies to get himself off. "Seunghyun-" Seungri feels it when Jiyong comes in a hot rush over his stomach. He tries to hold himself up and fails, slumping on top of Seungri's chest.
Jiyong's weight presses heavy and sticky on him, but Seungri is just too boneless to care. Hot, tired, sated, he thinks of nothing but filling his lungs with air and exhaling it all out.
Jiyong moves first, or attempts to, shifting enough to make things obviously uncomfortable so that Seungri wills his body into action. It occurs to him that Jiyong has to be twice as exhausted, not to mention sore, so Seungri is careful when he moves. He drags himself out of bed completely, wobbling on unsteady feet for a second, and goes to clean himself off.
When Seungri returns to the bed, Jiyong is sprawled limp on the sheets, unmoving but not asleep. He makes a warm, appreciative noise when Seungri swipes a damp, heated towel over his skin. "So," he slurs, cracking an eye open to regard Seungri with contentment. "That was, mm, nice."
"'Nice'," Seungri says back to him with tired amusement, and Jiyong's grin is a thin and glimmering crescent.
"Shut up, my usual genius is fried."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
With what appears to be great effort, Jiyong sighs and rolls his eyes. "You do that."
* * * * *
Seungri wakes up to sunlight on his face, blinking his bleary eyes at the ceiling. He smells coffee. He turns his head, and when his vision focuses he finds Jiyong standing in his kitchen with his hair damp and a towel around his waist, sipping from a mug. The sight is both strikingly mundane and bizarrely surreal.
As if he possesses a sixth sense that tells him whenever Seungri is watching him, Jiyong turns and walks over. "Here." He passes the mug and slides onto the bed. "I helped myself to some things."
Obviously, but Seungri doesn't care. He pulls himself up into a sitting position and for a while simply inhales the well-loved scent of freshly-brewed coffee. As good as that is, he's also quite contented with the warm body stretched clean and bare and wonderful alongside him. Seungri sneaks glimpses at Jiyong's peaceful face, which looks different in daylight and scrubbed of makeup. Not younger, precisely, and no less appealing. Just different in appreciation. Jiyong raises his brows and stares back, and Seungri realizes he's been caught. Again.
"What are you thinking about?" Jiyong asks, reaching up to tap Seungri between the eyes, smiling softly.
"You. You're glowing." Hearing Jiyong's cackle, Seungri buries his face in his hair. He's developed a mortifying habit of sounding like an idiot around this person.
"You're adorable."
"Shut up, God." He ends up sounding less defensive than he meant, sedated by breathing in the aroma of his own shampoo in Jiyong's hair.
"But you really are." Jiyong smartly retrieves the coffee mug and sets it aside. Seungri immediately takes advantage of the opportunity to slide his hands over Jiyong's skin, tracing the wings of his collarbones and tweaking a nipple just to make him squirm a little. There's no serious intent; he just wants to touch him for a while. For as long as he can.
He figures he has to ask sooner or later: "So what's your opinion on a repeat performance?"
Jiyong gazes up at him from beneath his lashes. "Are we talking encore or additional concert date?"
Seungri draws nonsensical patterns on Jiyong's torso with the tip of his index finger, feigning nonchalance. "Additional. Either. ...Both?"
Laughing, Jiyong rolls over to the edge of the bed and grabs a pen off the table. Then he takes Seungri's hand and holds his arm out, scrawling away on his skin with blue ink. "Tell you what, here's my number. Call sometime and I'll let you know if tickets are available."
Seungri stares at the series of numbers - and the doodle of a panda chewing on a piece of bamboo - hours after Jiyong leaves. There are books lying open in front of him and he has studying to do for Monday, but he has his shirt sleeve rolled up to the elbow instead. The contact information is safely stored in his cell phone by now, but he hasn't bothered washing the writing off yet. He thinks of Jiyong's tattoos, of the thin arms that wound around him in welcome and then goodbye. Momentarily, temporarily. The pen ink is a bit smudged from his fingers passing over it, a mark of impermanence.
end
Wow, so my first Big Bang fic is basically just dirty smut. I totally should have been writing other things. Sort of tempted to write more in this AU though.
Category: Kpop (Big Bang)
Pairing(s): G-Dragon/Seungri
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4900
Summary: AU - inspired by (and taking liberties with) the Strong Baby MV of all things orz. One night, one shot.
Notes: Due to the content, this fic will be locked in a week or so. Ask to be friended, or simply friend this journal and I will friend you back.
This is, Seungri decides, a phenomenal party.
Youngbae always hosts some of the best parties, so Seungri really isn't surprised, but he feels that the point should be made. Right now he has the subtle aftertaste of wine on his tongue and soft skin under his fingers, the girl's large, dark eyes regarding him beneath long lashes as he brushes over the inside of her wrist. The light washes her skin in muted gold, lovely against her black dress and straight hair with its copper highlights. He's easily mesmerized by that touch of flash, like a slow burn, chasing away last night's memory. Seungri wouldn't have minded seeing that beauty again, breathing in her perfume and kissing the tattoo on her back once more, but he is just as content to keep the memory and the gorgeous red rose left on his bed (much nicer than a hopeful note with a phone number).
A scattering of laughter breaks out nearby, and Seungri raises his eyes from the curve of his companion's shoulder to see Daesung entertaining a small crowd. Their gazes meet for a moment, and when Daesung notes the girl at Seungri's side he gives his eyes an exaggerated roll, covertly mouthing, "Whore."
Lifting both brows, Seungri sends back, "Jealous."
A manicured nail travels up the front of his suit, requesting his attention again, and the girl pouts. "Bored with my company so soon?"
"Not nearly," he assures, covering her small hand with his own. He grins to himself, mostly because he imagines Daesung's eyes rolling hard enough to spin - but enough about that, that cretin doesn't deserve his attention, while this interested lady certainly does.
Before anything else, though, another commotion intervenes, this one louder than the first. Seungri's head is not the only one that turns when a muffled voice is followed by a crash, then a door from a backroom opens and a bristling man storms out. He looks young - very young, but Seungri knows better than most how appearances can be deceiving. His shirt is rumpled, tie askew, and his styled hair shows signs of mistreatment from agitated fingers. In short, he's a spectacle, and he doesn't seem to care one bit. Youngbae follows after him, looking a little worried and a lot harried, grasping an arm and saying something low into the man's ear.
The man slumps for a moment with his eyes shut and face tilted towards the ceiling in what appears to be surrender, but then he goes rigid again and shakes Youngbae off. "My God, I can't deal with this bullshit. I can't anymore, and I am not overreacting because these restrictions are insane. You know-"
"Jiyong," Youngbae interrupts, more pleading now than placating. "I know, I understand, and I will talk to the company. I promise. But right now, I think you've had a little too much to drink. We can handle this in the morning."
Jiyong looks at Youngbae and the whole room goes tense, watching the drama unfold, and suddenly Jiyong throws his arms around Youngbae in a hug. Youngbae seems more relieved than surprised at the turn of affection. "Thanks," Jiyong says, voice thick. "I mean it, thanks. You are the best friend I could ever ask for, the friend that I didn't ask for at all, you are..."
"I know, I know," Youngbae repeats, patting the other man on the back while smiling reassuringly at the guests, as if this happens normally.
"Goodness," murmurs the girl from Seungri's side as they both watch things wind down. "I wonder what that was about."
Seungri wonders as well.
* * * * *
The girl leaves him after a while when no amount of pouting and flirting can fully recapture his attention. He feels mild regret watching her float away to find someone new. The girls - it's not as if they mean nothing. They mean a lot for however long they're with him.
Free for the time being, though, Seungri wanders over to where Youngbae is exchanging some words with the bartender. Youngbae points in a direction, and when Seungri follows it he sees Jiyong laughing along with several others as Daesung holds his glass like a microphone and belts out some lines from a popular song.
"Sure thing," the bartender says, nodding. "But I can't do anything if he's just going to drink someone else's." He says the last part as Jiyong steals Daesung's glass, ignoring his squawk of protest, and tips back the remaining liquid.
Youngbae laughs in spite of himself, shaking his head ruefully. "Yeah, well, I'll just pray for a miracle then." Then he catches sight of Seungri, and his face lights up. "You made it! I thought you might be busy this weekend."
"You know how it is - all work and no play..." Youngbae grins and lightly punches his arm. Seungri smiles back. "Great party, as usual. You really outdid yourself this time with the entertainment."
Youngbae rolls his eyes - Seungri wonders why everyone does that around him - and lets out a sigh. "I would apologize for him, but it sounds like I don't need to."
"Who is he, anyway?" Seungri tries not to sound too curious, but then, that might be all right. People tell him he's straightforward, and he doesn't consider that a bad thing.
"Jiyong, he's..." Youngbae gets that thoughtful expression on his face like he always does when he's answering a difficult question. "He's not exactly new. He's been active in America for the past few years under the penname G-Dragon, and, er, you could say that he's finding the cultural transition...problematic."
"Ah," Seungri says in understanding, the previous scene making sense now. "I suppose with the censorship issues going around lately..."
"Yeah, exactly. And with Jiyong, well, it's his way or the highway."
"Sounds like you're close." This time Youngbae gives him a look, more questioning than accusing, and Seungri responds with the guileless smile that usually gets him out of trouble.
"Well... We're old friends. We worked together when, hell, when we were just kids. You know my GDYB stuff? That was with Jiyong - 'GD'."
Seungri makes a show of being surprised. "That was a while ago."
"...Why do I feel slightly insulted?"
"I'm calling you old."
"Old, am I?" Youngbae turns again to the bartender and jerks his thumb at Seungri. "He's underage. Don't give him any drinks."
"I'm calling you short, too!" Seungri shouts at Youngbae's far-too-smug retreating back.
* * * * *
It takes a while before Seungri decides to venture over to where Jiyong is sitting and nodding along to whatever the woman in front of him is rambling about. He has the look of one growing increasingly bored. Seungri tells himself he's not working up his nerve because he shouldn't have to, and that he only swiped Daesung's second glass of wine to be a nuisance. He sips at the drink, wetting his mouth, and almost sputters unattractively when Jiyong suddenly looks up and catches his eye with a sly, secretive grin.
In the end it's Jiyong who comes to him. He walks over and smoothly slips an arm through Seungri's, closing in tight to his side. Seungri breathes in and knows the scent of expensive cologne when it teases his senses. "I need to be rescued from a dreadfully boring fate," Jiyong confides, indicating with a low sweep of his eyes to the woman he's abandoned. When he looks up, his whole face seems to be laughing. "And you looked available."
Seungri glances over Jiyong's shoulder to give the woman a reflexive smile and wave. She hardly seems to notice, already engaged with someone else. "I think you're safe."
"My hero," Jiyong says with a ridiculous flutter of his eyelashes, long and dark with makeup. Ridiculous, yet oddly appropriate with his pretty face.
They end up at the bar, where Jiyong is automatically handed a glass of water. The bartender eyes Seungri's stolen drink with significance, but says nothing about it, not even when Seungri grins cheekily and raises the glass to his lips. It occurs to him that Younbae's prayers have been answered, for Jiyong looks and sounds much more sober than he was an hour ago. His clothes are straightened, though his sleeves are casually rolled up, and his hair is still slightly, attractively, mussed. He must be aware, and he must enjoy the way people notice him.
Jiyong swirls his water idly and makes the ice clink. "So what's your name, kid?"
That makes Seungri bristle a bit. Nobody calls him that, not at places like this. If anything, he looks old for his age, and he can get away with it, too. Jiyong just seems to grin lazily at him, the corners of his mouth curling cat-like as he perches on a bar stool, letting one leg dangle. He's probably the only person in the room daring enough to wear leather pants at a classy gathering such as this. Is it because he lived in America, or is it purely him?
"...I'm Seunghyun," Seungri eventually answers with only a touch of sullenness. He startles when Jiyong laughs, and it carries a weird note that makes Seungri wonder if Jiyong is still rather drunk after all.
"Really? Oh, don't look at me like I'm crazy, I have a friend - a good friend - also called Seunghyun." He snickers again like it's the funniest thing in the world, a common name like that.
Seungri wonders why Youngbae didn't warn him that Jiyong might be a little unhinged. "Then you can call me Seungri. A lot of people do."
"Seungri," Jiyong repeats, trying out the name, tasting it, and his tongue flicks out across his lip. On second thought, he could be as psychotic as all get-out, and Seungri still might not care. "I'm Jiyong."
"I've heard some of your music," Seungri begins, his words rushing before he remembers to slow down, trying to calm the little jump in his pulse.
"Oh?" Jiyong's eyes brighten and the grin stretching over his face could almost be shy.
"...From GDYB," Seungri finishes sheepishly.
"Oh." Jiyong laughs, catches his breath and then laughs some more in delight. "That's... Wow, that feels like a long time ago."
"I liked it, though." He's not lying, but it takes some effort to think back that far. Not many people know about Youngbae's activities before he debuted as Taeyang. Seungri wonders why Jiyong went to America instead, considers asking, and promptly forgets when he notices the other's dark-lined eyes on him, appraising. He feels a flush creep up his neck and moves to drink from his glass, only to find it empty. The bartender passes him some water.
"So." Jiyong folds his arms atop the bar, and Seungri can't help but notice the slender line of his back. "It seems you know a bit about me. I should hear about you."
"About me?" he unthinkingly parrots, and God, he feels dumb. Slow, and dumb, and at this point he might be a little bit drunk. Seungri rubs his face to hide the heat rising in his cheeks. Most people don't ask about him at places like this. His being here at all would indicate that he's either somebody, or wealthy enough to count, and that's usually all that matters. He doesn't need to talk about himself to flirt.
When the silence goes on for too long, Jiyong tilts his head and comments with a faint smile, "I wasn't planning for that to be a stumper."
Seungri has blown it. Whatever this is, he's certain that he's blown it. "I'm sorry," he sighs, hating his life a little bit. "I'm not usually like this. I mean... Sorry."
Jiyong has that look that Seungri hates: the oh-he's-totally-adorable look. The only time that's ever okay anymore is when it's coming from his mother or one of his terrifying aunts. "Hey, don't worry. So how 'bout, hmm..."
Seungri ponders how much it would take to bribe the bartender into giving him more liquor.
"...We could skip the boring part and get right to the fun part?"
Wait, what?
Jiyong's eyes are narrow and his smirk is sharp, all edges asking to be tested. "What do you say?"
Very slowly, Seungri wets his lips. "Depends," he hedges, like he's approaching a cliff and not quite sure that looking down is a good idea. Not sure if he's going to jump or be pushed. "What's your idea of fun?"
Jiyong shrugs his slim shoulders. "Up to you."
Up to him. Seungri has never needed to think twice when it's up to him. He's the sort to jump first and ask later, if later ever happens. "Okay. Let's go."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Jiyong tells him happily.
* * * * *
Jiyong lets out a low whistle when they arrive at Seungri's apartment. "You're not bad off for a student."
"How do you know I'm a student?" Seungri demands. He's about to take off his shoes, but he waits in case he needs them to kick Jiyong out the door.
"What else would you be, this close to the university? I'm just relieved you're not in high school."
"You look like you're in high school," Seungri mutters back, and then he's vaguely horrified that he's arguing like a five-year-old now of all times.
"Fortunately, I'm not." Jiyong slides up into his personal space like he has a standing invitation to be there - and maybe he does, because it's not like Seungri minds. He grasps Seungri by the lapels and pushes his coat off his shoulders, helping him out of it. Then he stops with his hands resting on Seungri's arms, light and warm, and he remarks casually into the air, "So here we are, two consenting adults."
Seungri doesn't know what the hell he's expected to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. He takes Jiyong's face in his hands and his skin is as smooth as it looks, the corner of his mouth twitching up when Seungri's thumb brushes over it. His lips part slightly before they're sealed with a kiss.
At first Seungri wanted to take it slow, wanted to impress, to make up for his earlier clumsiness - and, perhaps, to simply prove something. He's not sure what. Jiyong is different, exciting, confounding, and Seungri no longer cares about taking it slow. He's been taken off-guard too many times tonight, so he might as well just give in. Yes, giving in sounds like an excellent idea. He tilts his head to get a better angle for kissing, tongue gliding over lips then teeth while his hands slip down to Jiyong's waist. The man shivers at the light rake of fingers down his sides and closes what little distance remains between their bodies.
Seungri lets out a small gasp at the feel of Jiyong pressing up to him; at the contour of Jiyong's hip against his pelvis and the firm lines of Jiyong's torso, so different from the round curves and pliant flesh of a woman. It's not a completely new feeling, but it's not familiar, either. Seungri slides a hand over Jiyong's thigh and curves around to cup his ass, warming the leather beneath his palm. He distantly wonders how Jiyong even got into pants that molded to his legs so well, but a much more immediate thought is how to remove them. His other hand grabs a fistful of Jiyong's shirt that he tugs and twists to get to the buttons.
Jiyong puts a halt to things with a grip around Seungri's wrist, and then he disentangles himself. His breathing is a bit shallow and rapid, coming from a thoroughly-kissed mouth - Seungri is pleased to notice. Jiyong still manages to arch a warning brow and speak calmly, "This is a nice shirt, and I'd prefer if you didn't yank at it."
Seungri mirrors his look, but his tone is rendered uncommonly low. "Then you better take it off fast."
Jiyong scoffs, but he complies, and his nimble fingers make short work of the buttons. He flicks the fabric aside to bare his chest, teasingly, and then lowers the shirt down his shoulders and arms. With a nonchalance that Seungri finds a little amusing, but mostly maddening, he takes care to fold the article of clothing before hanging it neatly over the back of a chair.
Seungri isn't inclined to wait and comes up behind Jiyong, chest to back, letting his hands explore the newly available skin. Tiny goosebumps prickle across his flesh from the cold since Seungri hasn't turned the thermostat up, and he sees no reason to at this rate. His teeth bite gently at the shell of Jiyong's ear while the pads of his fingers outline the inked letters inside both of Jiyong's forearms.
"'Vita dolce'," Jiyong murmurs, turning his right arm. Next, his left. "'Moderato'."
"And this one?" Seungri asks, curling his touch around Jiyong's shoulder. He can read the last word but doesn't want to pull back to study the rest of it.
Jiyong turns his head to brush his mouth over Seungri's jaw, and Seungri feels his lips move to shape the foreign syllables. "'Too fast to live, too young to die'." He nips at Seungri's skin, then pushes his hips back and rubs, making a noise low in his throat to match Seungri's groan. "Why are you still dressed?"
It's a very good question. Jiyong spins around and immediately gets to work on removing Seungri's shirt. Next, belt. Next, pants. Jiyong is still in that frustratingly sexy leather, which Seungri helpfully points out by palming the bulge straining against the material.
"Fuck," Jiyong breathes out shakily, and Seungri grins triumphant when he finally gets to peel him out of those pants.
When they reach the foot of the bed, Jiyong plants a hand in the center of Seungri's chest and pushes until he obediently lowers onto the mattress, but not without getting a hold on the back of Jiyong's neck and pulling him down as well. The fall is short and startling. Jiyong's frame bumps into him, and getting themselves sorted out is a mixed process of skin sliding on skin and open-mouthed kisses being pressed wherever.
"Up," Jiyong urges with a lick over a hard nipple, and Seungri acquiesces again with hardly a thought, drawing himself to the top of the bed until he's stretched comfortably. Jiyong crawls up the length of his body, keeping him flat with his own weight, and kisses him fast and hard on the mouth. Seungri gasps into him when Jiyong's thigh slides between his legs and puts pressure on his cock just so, just enough to drive him crazy. A breathy laugh fans warm air across his neck, but Jiyong is also grinding against Seungri's hip. Despite that, he still has the cheek to inquire, "You know how this works, right?"
"I'll be more than happy to show you," Seungri retorts, bending his knees and slinging an arm around Jiyong's back for leverage to thrust against him. That's a little better. Still not enough.
"Then by all means." Jiyong shudders in pleasure, and his voice has a low, eager quality to it. "Let me up. Tell me where."
"What? Oh. First drawer. Um, try the second for lube." A square packet hits him in the chest. Seungri picks it off, just in time before Jiyong returns with a pleased little smirk and a bottle of scented massage oil that Seungri forgot he had.
"This is nice stuff," Jiyong comments, settling with a leg on either side of Seungri's waist. Seungri's head falls back against the pillow and he breathes deeply, slowly, because God, the view. Jiyong radiates satisfaction while he uncaps the bottle and tips oil into his palm, filling the air with a spicy fragrance as he rubs it into his hands.
"I thought I was doing the showing." But Seungri isn't exactly averse to this development, either. He trails his fingers down Jiyong's flat stomach and mischievously over his cock.
"I changed my mind-" Jiyong sucks in his breath. "Don't touch that, I'm busy here." Jiyong leans forward a little and braces his free arm against the bed, reaching behind with the other.
Seungri watches, entranced, the expressions that shift across Jiyong's face. There's mostly concentration at first, teeth biting his lower lip and then letting go with a short intake of breath, eyelashes fluttering, mouth partly open. Ripples of pleasure with every catch in his breath. A flush rises to his cheeks and Seungri reaches out to trace over his features, feeling the heat beneath his fingertips. Jiyong arches his neck and that's too tempting to resist, so Seungri pushes himself up to mouth at the column of his exposed throat. Jiyong's pulse quickens under his tongue.
"You okay?" Seungri asks when Jiyong swears under his breath and the arm holding him up shakes, fist clenched in the sheets.
"Fine," he hisses, wriggling in place. "I just- I need- Put on the fucking condom."
Seungri has to reach around Jiyong to do it, and it's just a little distracting with the way the man is spread out on top of him. He manages, though, and then he can't help but follow a hand up Jiyong's thigh to where his slippery fingers are buried inside, circling around them. "Can I...?"
Jiyong nods, moans when Seungri helps spread him and slides another finger in, tight and wet. He pushes gently, and after a few experimental thrusts he matches Jiyong's rhythm, melting him from the inside out. Jiyong sags and sighs, his face blissful for a perfect second before he pitches his voice and begins to repeat, "Now, now, now."
Another hands-off moment as Jiyong sits up, knees spread, and slicks his oiled palms down Seungri's length. The light pressure is just a teaser. Seungri grips Jiyong by the hips to help steady him, cock pressing against his entrance, and Seungri waits for what feels like an unbearably long time until Jiyong sinks slowly down on him. Tight heat all around, and Seungri lets out a fervent profanity while his fingers dig into Jiyong's flesh.
Another span of time passes, and it seems much shorter than the last one, a dizzying flash before Jiyong moves against him with a determined grimace of mixed pleasure-pain. He feels it sweetly with the way his breath hitches and thighs tremble, bracing himself forward to rise, then lower. So slowly. His sweat-damp bangs curl against his forehead, sticking to his skin, and the air is hot and heady with sex. Jiyong pants, reaches for Seungri's hand at his hip and shifts it to his half-hard cock. "Touch me," he commands, and keeping with the pattern of the night, Seungri complies.
He strokes Jiyong to full hardness, fingers smearing through the wetness at the tip and spreading down the stiff length. A little faster, a little more. Seungri gives his hips a roll and is gratified to hear Jiyong's surprised gasp, to feel the change in pace. Seungri makes a loose fist for Jiyong to thrust into as he rides him, watching Jiyong's face, the flick of his tongue over his lip. He's too far away to kiss, which is nothing short of a tragedy, so Seungri cups the back of his neck and draws him down.
Seungri feels drunk again, abandoning rational thought and leaving inhibitions by the wayside. He falls readily into visceral sensation; doing, feeling, and wanting more. He wants Jiyong impossibly closer, grasps at him with hands that smooth over the heated skin of his arching back and the curve of his ass, kisses him greedily with a desperate mouth. Jiyong squirms against him and Seungri squeezes his eyes shut at the contraction around his cock, almost too good to handle. Borderline, razor-edge. He pushes Jiyong down on him, tight and deep and rough.
"Yes, yes, fuck, yes..." Jiyong chants with his wet, swollen mouth, dark eyes glazed and half-lidded; such an image that Seungri will never forget or want to forget, ever, an image he would like to see again. A memory won't be good enough this time, and the realization sends a shock up his spine. Pushes him closer to the edge. The thrill and danger of it are intoxicating.
He's whispering frantic words into the air between them, leaving them to evaporate on Jiyong's skin. Words like, "please," "yes," "Jiyong," they stick and then disappear. Seungri chases them with kisses over his face, his mouth, soft at first and then harder, harsher, matching the way they fuck. Momentum is everything; holding on and then letting go. It carries him to the brink, finally, the overwhelming crash of orgasm, that sudden leap, and then breathless falling.
"God," Jiyong groans out, shuddering, his hand pushing between their bodies to get himself off. "Seunghyun-" Seungri feels it when Jiyong comes in a hot rush over his stomach. He tries to hold himself up and fails, slumping on top of Seungri's chest.
Jiyong's weight presses heavy and sticky on him, but Seungri is just too boneless to care. Hot, tired, sated, he thinks of nothing but filling his lungs with air and exhaling it all out.
Jiyong moves first, or attempts to, shifting enough to make things obviously uncomfortable so that Seungri wills his body into action. It occurs to him that Jiyong has to be twice as exhausted, not to mention sore, so Seungri is careful when he moves. He drags himself out of bed completely, wobbling on unsteady feet for a second, and goes to clean himself off.
When Seungri returns to the bed, Jiyong is sprawled limp on the sheets, unmoving but not asleep. He makes a warm, appreciative noise when Seungri swipes a damp, heated towel over his skin. "So," he slurs, cracking an eye open to regard Seungri with contentment. "That was, mm, nice."
"'Nice'," Seungri says back to him with tired amusement, and Jiyong's grin is a thin and glimmering crescent.
"Shut up, my usual genius is fried."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
With what appears to be great effort, Jiyong sighs and rolls his eyes. "You do that."
* * * * *
Seungri wakes up to sunlight on his face, blinking his bleary eyes at the ceiling. He smells coffee. He turns his head, and when his vision focuses he finds Jiyong standing in his kitchen with his hair damp and a towel around his waist, sipping from a mug. The sight is both strikingly mundane and bizarrely surreal.
As if he possesses a sixth sense that tells him whenever Seungri is watching him, Jiyong turns and walks over. "Here." He passes the mug and slides onto the bed. "I helped myself to some things."
Obviously, but Seungri doesn't care. He pulls himself up into a sitting position and for a while simply inhales the well-loved scent of freshly-brewed coffee. As good as that is, he's also quite contented with the warm body stretched clean and bare and wonderful alongside him. Seungri sneaks glimpses at Jiyong's peaceful face, which looks different in daylight and scrubbed of makeup. Not younger, precisely, and no less appealing. Just different in appreciation. Jiyong raises his brows and stares back, and Seungri realizes he's been caught. Again.
"What are you thinking about?" Jiyong asks, reaching up to tap Seungri between the eyes, smiling softly.
"You. You're glowing." Hearing Jiyong's cackle, Seungri buries his face in his hair. He's developed a mortifying habit of sounding like an idiot around this person.
"You're adorable."
"Shut up, God." He ends up sounding less defensive than he meant, sedated by breathing in the aroma of his own shampoo in Jiyong's hair.
"But you really are." Jiyong smartly retrieves the coffee mug and sets it aside. Seungri immediately takes advantage of the opportunity to slide his hands over Jiyong's skin, tracing the wings of his collarbones and tweaking a nipple just to make him squirm a little. There's no serious intent; he just wants to touch him for a while. For as long as he can.
He figures he has to ask sooner or later: "So what's your opinion on a repeat performance?"
Jiyong gazes up at him from beneath his lashes. "Are we talking encore or additional concert date?"
Seungri draws nonsensical patterns on Jiyong's torso with the tip of his index finger, feigning nonchalance. "Additional. Either. ...Both?"
Laughing, Jiyong rolls over to the edge of the bed and grabs a pen off the table. Then he takes Seungri's hand and holds his arm out, scrawling away on his skin with blue ink. "Tell you what, here's my number. Call sometime and I'll let you know if tickets are available."
Seungri stares at the series of numbers - and the doodle of a panda chewing on a piece of bamboo - hours after Jiyong leaves. There are books lying open in front of him and he has studying to do for Monday, but he has his shirt sleeve rolled up to the elbow instead. The contact information is safely stored in his cell phone by now, but he hasn't bothered washing the writing off yet. He thinks of Jiyong's tattoos, of the thin arms that wound around him in welcome and then goodbye. Momentarily, temporarily. The pen ink is a bit smudged from his fingers passing over it, a mark of impermanence.
end
Wow, so my first Big Bang fic is basically just dirty smut. I totally should have been writing other things. Sort of tempted to write more in this AU though.