Work Text:
Seungri is nothing like Jiyong, who step by step makes sure that Youngbae comes down satisfied and carefully cleans up the mess afterwards, with a thoughtful, caring attention to detail that he appreciates anew every time. Jiyong lets him rest afterwards, rubs his fingers against his temples and kisses all the bruises he just created like they'll heal him faster.
Seungri is, to a fault, impatient and abrupt on his own. Compared to Jiyong, he hardly gives Youngbae a chance to breathe before he pulls him into a kiss. He's always skipping ahead to the next part, no matter how good it feels at the present. He doesn't give a second thought to relishing - he just wants to keep going, forward and forward until the climax, and Youngbae would ask him to slow down, except he remembers how long it took to get here, and strongly suspects that Seungri rushes because he still thinks Youngbae will back out. That he'll come to his senses.
"Hyung," the subject of his thoughts interrupts. Youngbae tilts his head back from where he's leaning over the soundboard, fiddling. "What are you doing tonight?"
Youngbae sighs deeply, as if Seungri hasn't been in the same room with him for the last hour and a half.
"Working," he says, impossibly patient, before turning his attention back to the track. It's nothing that'll get released this year, but he might as well. He doesn't even know why Seungri is there, when he has his own long-delayed album to work on, that's been thrown into overdrive less than a week ago and careening their youngest member swiftly towards a burn-out if he isn't careful. Ever reasonable, he figures that could be the exact reason Seungri is hanging around him - it's an obvious reminder that the alternative is working with little to no idea of the end result. He only needs to look back a few years ago to remember how completely pointless it felt at times. It's an ugly possibility, even a probability, that the rug will get pulled out from under Seungri, again.
He mentally retracts his earlier sigh. Seungri has a right to be restless, and it's not like he's even been disrupting Youngbae that much. It's been silent in the studio as he's worked, occasionally disturbed by the same unfinished beat.
"You're not?" he follows up his response, adding only a small amount of disbelief, mostly for Seungri's own sake. He would never forgive himself if he didn't follow through and get the production wrapped up.
"No," Youngbae isn't even looking at Seungri, but there's a thickness and raspiness to his voice that makes his fingers still on the keyboard, only a moment before the chair is yanked backwards so that he's in Seungri's orbit. He starts a token protest - something about respect and work ethic - but Seungri looks so damn tired, and is still wearing a smile like he could persuade the world to do anything. Hell, maybe he could. It certainly hasn't been disproven.
"We should go out," he says authoritatively. "Take a break."
The way his eyes dip down to the open V of Youngbae's shirt should make him roll his eyes at the sheer heavy-handedness of it, but instead he flushes. It's only been a few months since they came to an agreement, and it's still a new flavor of surrender that he hasn't gotten accustomed to: blatant and brash and unrepentant about it, like when he told Youngbae he wanted to fuck in the next five minutes, that if he wanted it too, he had to make himself ready. Just the thought of it - Seungri ripping his probing, tentative fingers away in one second and rubbing his leaking cock just against his entrance in the next. He still remembers how his throat went dry, but he had flinched, unconsciously, at the pressure at his entrance, and before he knew it, Seungri had pulled his shoulder and pushed him onto the floor, knelt above his head, and fed his cock to him instead.
"Isn't that my decision?" he retorts.
Seungri smirks and runs his hands up the outside of his legs and fists the material so it stretches tight across his lap, outlining his arousal plainly.
"That isn't a yes?"
Youngbae concedes, lets himself be pulled onto the couch, lets the younger man guide him onto his lap, lets himself be pulled into a demanding kiss, the only type of kiss that Seungri seems to know. His tongue pushes past Youngbae's lips and licks the roof of his mouth, hardly offering Youngbae the courtesy of breathing. He pushes down, meeting Seungri with his hips, grinding his pelvis against the fold of his thigh. He's rewarded with a heady groan and his hands flattening against Youngbae's back and sliding down until they possessively clasp around the curve of his ass. He squirms as Seungri grips him tight, the hard edge of his fingernails digging greedily into the cleft.
His breath stutters a bit, his teeth pause from where they were nibbling at Seungri's neck, and he clearly notices, changing his grip so that his hands are firmly cupped, pressing and rubbing until Youngbae relaxes against his chest and lets his head drop down into the dip of his collarbone, where he licks and savors the smell, the taste of him. He mumbles open-mouthed against the bone, "I want to put it on."
"Mmmm, you do, don't you," Seungri hums his agreement, the vibration tingling against Youngbae's ear. He squeezes his hand into the nonexistent space between their bodies and zeroing in on Youngbae's cock. "Is that all you want?"
"Yes," Youngbae gasps when he undoes the zipper, slips his hand inside, and wraps his fingers around the base of him. He thrusts forward, eager, and wonders if Seungri is somehow contagious, that he makes everyone he touches so needy and desperate to be undone. "Please."
Seungri circles his thumb to index finger just beneath the head of his cock and rubs it lightly, before pushing his hand against Youngbae's chest and extricating them from each other. He smiles, leans forward, and kisses him lightly, chastely.
"I want you to wait until we get there," he says, when Youngbae tries to chase after his retreating lips.
"Where?" he asks, rearing back and exhaling deeply as Seungri adjusts himself.
"Just come down to the lobby in an hour," he responds, twisting his mouth into a smile that seems, strangely, to Youngbae's eyes, a little forced. Youngbae nods, even though his brain is just at the tip-off point, practically falling at the chance to shut off for a bit. He can make it an hour. Seungri grins a little more naturally as Youngbae runs his fingers through his hair and shifts his weight from one side to another. "I'll bring it and tell when I want you to put it on."
"Maknae," he cautions, reason and worry coming back to the forefront. There's only so many places where you can put on a collar without being seen, photographed, followed.
The other man winks at him cockily as he heads for the door. "Trust me. An hour, remember."
Youngbae starts to protest, but Seungri is already out the door. He sighs and rubs at his naked neck longingly before getting up to spend thirty minutes fantasizing, twenty minutes getting dressed, and ten minutes waiting.
When he does meet Seungri in the lobby, he barely gets to exchange two words with him before their ride pulls up and they are hustled inside. He looks questioningly at him, trying to puzzle out where he's even keeping the collar. His pants are entirely too tight for the pockets to be useful, and he's not carrying anything. Seungri spots him looking over and coyly pulls down the collar of his own shirt, where Youngbae's collar is looped around his own simple chain.
"Safe and sound," he says, assuredly, and Youngbae is placated for a moment, before Seungri leans over and whispers in his ear, low and hot, "You look so hot in this, hyung. Like you were born to wear it - born to get fucked on command."
Youngbae flinches back, sharp enough for the driver to throw a quick look in the rearview mirror, but Seungri's fingers lay on his wrist, gently rubbing the bruise there that Jiyong left and kissed sweetly just a few nights earlier. He casually slides over and squeezes down tightly, so that Youngbae has to bite his lip not to groan at the pain. He murmurs under his breath - "I want to leave bruises like that all over you by the end of the night, blue and purple all over. Wouldn't you like that?"
He nods minutely, absently noting that they're not headed towards any club he's familiar with. His breath hitches as Seungri continues, "I'm going to count them, one by one," his fingers dance up the inside of his arm, light and teasing, "which ones are the darkest, where you wanted it the most, which ones I'll have to go over again. Make sure it sticks with you," and as he says it his tone sinks into darkness, promising that Youngbae won't be able to look anywhere on his own body without being reminded of Seungri's touch.
He swallows a little as Seungri leans back, caught by the driver's glance, but his hand stays tucked beneath Youngbae's arm, fingers curled and nails dragging light scratches into his skin.
Soon enough they pull up, and Youngbae tries to look around - the neighborhood doesn't look familiar, and he's been so distracted on the ride over he hasn't been able to get his bearings - but Seungri throws his arm over his shoulders and pulls him inside before he can process where, exactly, he's been taken.
He voices as much to Seungri as they head down a fashionably dark hallway, the frantic beat of some bass-heavy song growing louder with each step.
"Does it matter?" Seungri responds in the second before the hallway goes completely black. His startled noise is interrupted, swallowed by Seungri as he fists his hands in his shirt and pushes him against the cool wall. He hisses as the younger man bites down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and then follows it up with the sweet press of his hips against his that he can't help but respond to. He lifts up his chin to kiss him back and lets his hands rest lightly on his hips, savoring the momentary illicitness. Seungri's hand comes up to cup his face and then slides to the base of his neck, and the lights come back on just in time for Youngbae to see Seungri pull the collar out of his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Youngbae snaps, looking up and down the hallway, but still tilting his head back and letting it be looped around him quickly. Seungri straightens it out so it's an even line, tucked just below the apple of his neck. The metal is cold against his neck, but soothing. He feels himself turn off, and soaks in the peace for a moment before his attention is demanded again, Seungri pushes his thumbs into the soft skin beneath his jaw so that he has to tilt his head back and to the left, like a dog showing signs of submission.
"You wanted me to bruise you earlier, hyung," he says, softly, barely audible over the music. "Didn't you? Tell the truth."
He digs his thumbs in deeper so hard that Youngbae can't swallow or speak, only nod.
"Where do you want me to start?"
Anywhere, now, please, Youngbae's thoughts trip over each other, each one full of so much want and longing and a pull in his bones to give himself over that none of them can even cohere into a single desire. The part of him that worries about someone coming down the hallway is smothered beneath the fever-hot, nonsense images he has of being bent over, held down, his body plundered until it's raw. It's so consuming it takes him a moment to realize Seungri isn't doing anything more - he's simply holding as is, looking dark-eyed at Youngbae. He lessens the pressure fractionally.
"I want you to fuck me," he says.
Seungri slides his hand down to his shoulders.
"Tell me where, hyung. Tell me where you want me to fuck you."
Youngbae is grateful that the hallway is so dark, because he's flushed, red and sweat beginning to dot his brow from the warmth of the enclosed space, the warmth of their bodies, and the warmth that's rapidly turning into a fire in the pit of his stomach.
"Or do you want to show me?" Seungri follows, with a lilt to his voice, and Youngbae is struck with the image of him, in the shadows, bent over on the ground as Seungri kneels behind him, as his fingers spread his cheeks apart, darker and darker shades of skin until his hole is stretched open, begging to be filled. It's a desperate, pathetic scene, and it hits Youngbae in the pit of his stomach so sharply he buckles against the wall.
"You do," Seungri says, delighted, and he puts his leg between Youngbae's, rubbing his thigh against his hardness. "You want it that badly. Tell me."
"I want to," he says, breathless. Seungri tilts his head, waiting. Youngbae tries to stutter. "I want to show you where I want you to fuck me. I want to...I want to show you..."
"Everything," the other man finishes, laughing a little.
Youngbae nods, and the smile falls off Seungri's face quickly, chased off by a demanding confidence.
"I'm not convinced."
Youngbae's cock is hard, but his body is pliant, loose-limbed against the wall and kept up only by Seungri. His whole world is narrowed down to Seungri right now, and he doesn't know what else he can do to convince him. He wonders if this is a game he's playing, but then he remembers the uncertainty from both of them, and how Seungri had to know, before he could indulge. He had to know that Youngbae wanted him to, that he trusted him. He thinks about how much pressure he's been under, about the jabs and barbs from the media that make him feel unwanted, only made worse when it seems like his own company agreed with them - how he'll always be the afterthought of Big Bang. Youngbae's not supposed to carry anything with him, not supposed to worry or care or nag, when he wears the collar, but he can't help but realize that this is what it's been about since the beginning. Youngbae wants Seungri, a near-painful desire that's spelled out with his entire body, but the younger man needs to hear it tonight. He needs to be reassured by Youngbae's complete, utter, willing submission.
"Please," he lets himself beg, parts his legs without abandon. "I need you to fuck me, tonight, here."
It's like a light has gone off inside Seungri, and even though he doesn't smile he slows down the press of his thigh until it's rhythmically sliding against him.
"I need you, Seunghyun," he says. "Your cock, I need you to push it inside of me. I'm empty. Waiting for you. I wanted you from earlier," he gasps as Seungri finally grabs him with his hand. "Ever since we were on the couch. I was waiting for you to fill me up."
Seungri groans into his mouth, and twists their bodies so that they slide diagonally down the wall, and then Youngbae is on his back, with Seungri on top of him, his hands wrapped around his wrists, pinning him to the floor. His fingers find the bruises from earlier and he engulfs them with his hands, swallowing them with fresher stains of purple and blue. Youngbae meets his lips eagerly, opens his mouth to give him all the access he wants, follows his lips, desperate to keep touching him. He can feel Seungri blooming wildly at his compliance, and he's contentedly tethered to it, being able to give up all of himself and still care for his dongsaeng.
"Hyung," Seungri says at the same time his fingers slide beneath his waistband and tug hard. "Take this off."
They're in a hallway, Youngbae thinks, but it's been so suspiciously still. He trusts Seungri. He does. He quickly undoes his fly and zipper and shimmies the pants down his legs until they're bunched up around his ankles. Seungri stands up, leans down to offer Youngbae his hand and pulls him into an awkward kneel. He loops his fingers in his collar and circles him until he's standing behind, so close that his erection is pressing into the back of his hair. He breathes, hard, waiting.
Without warning, Seungri shoves him and he barely gets his arms out to break his fall. His legs are still restricted by the material, making him even tighter, but Seungri sticks one saliva-slick digit into his cleft and fingers the hole there, exploring.
"This?" he asks, pushing in just the slightest amount, and Youngbae shivers.
"Yes," he swallows. "There."
Seungri sucks in a breath as Youngbae's breath catches, puckering and pulling his finger in deeper.
"So desperate for me," he says, his voice low. "Push back, let me see you take it in."
Youngbae curls his hands into a fist and pushes his ass back, gasping as Seungri's finger is taken in, raw and dry, another inches. He curls his fingers, just grazing it against his walls, and he bites back a curse.
"More," Seungri demands, and Youngbae does it, because he's in control, and he trusts Seungri. He gives himself up to him, expecting to be torn apart, and expecting it to heal them both. Seungri's thumb traces around his rim as more of his finger disappears inside of his ass, and it's so light and teasing contrasting to the harshness inside of him he has to bend his head until it touches the floor and he can feel his own breath go in and out in an effort to re-center himself.
He pushes his finger in deeper, no longer content, and reaches around Youngbae's waist to grab at his cock and squeeze it. The stretch presses Seungri's own thick cock against his ass and he shudders thinking of how it will feel inside of him.
"Fuck me," he says, sudden, because he can't stand it anymore, the minute twitches of the finger inside of him not quite there and the tease and anticipation of his length there, just out of reach. Seungri laughs, quiet in a way he never is, and he rips out his finger, leaving Youngbae to wince.
"Okay, hyung," he says, easily, but there's nothing easy about the way he thrusts into him, deep and consuming and overpowering. He slides his still slickened hand up Youngbae's spine until he grabs him at the scruff of the neck. He plunges into him, over and over, and he doesn't have to tell Youngbae to beg for it. He does it over, and over, and over again, tears blurring his vision as his world narrows down to Seungri and him, the welcoming wetness of his body as it submit to everything without hesitation or regret.
He pushes his ass back in a plea for more every time Seungri pulls back, and the younger man moves on it, pistoning in and out of him, harder, faster, his grip on Youngbae's neck tightening as he approaches his peak. Youngbae's throat is raspy from pleading and begging, but he mouths one more request against the floor, for Seungri to fill him up. He moans, satiated, when he feels him come, made content by having been the cause of it. To have taken care of him, even as his cock leaks, sloppy and hard, in some dirty nightclub's hallway. Seungri stretches his body across the planes of his back and lets himself fall out of Youngbae's ass. He nibbles, sharp teeth, against the tender skin of his shoulderblades, as his hands continue to work at Youngbae's cock. His grip on his neck changes, gripping and releasing in turn, again and again, like he's a pet being soothed into sleep. Youngbae pants against the floor, and he comes on the floor in a smear of body-warm white against the dark, cold stone.
He collapses into a pile, breathless and wrung out, and Seungri silently unclasps the collar. Youngbae's eyelids flutter open to catch the smallest expression of worry on the younger man's face. Faintly, he brings up his hand and draws him down into a reassuring kiss, hoping he understands that they've taken care of each other tonight.