Mobsters, for the lack of a better word.
They steal from the weak and give to the rich. They give themselves even more because they love it. Robin Hood would be rolling in his cherry-picked grave.
They’re Seunghyun’s little band of merry men, and it is he who controls at the top. There’s nothing Seunghyun enjoys more than sitting in his lavishly preserved chair, demands trailing from his lips like a silken kiss. It’s a form of art—commanding, controlling. And the throne is where his power is consolidated, meshing together to become one. Upholstery and suave suits, steel-capped boots and sharp orders. The tongue of a serpent but the body of a lion.
Seunghyun’s the leader.
But of course, it’s not just himself. He has his crew, his own fucked up crew. Death and drugs, sex and violence. They’re the poster-boys for a late night crime show.
Daesung’s his right-hand man, the one person he’d trust with his life. If Seunghyun wants it, there’s nothing Daesung cannot achieve. He isn't expendable like that, with strength that’s unlike their sometimes childish leader. If Seunghyun finds himself clumsily losing grip, Daesung is there to show him the way, true to form and last to waver.
Seungri’s his contacts-man. If Seunghyun needs anything, the other is on the call—fingers on the dial, lips at the mic. He’s fast but meticulous. In a scene like theirs where life is but a fleeting memory before death swallows you whole, it’s important to remain vigilant. To be thorough. There’s efficiency in the way he cons, lips spread wide as he drinks from his flute of champagne. You’re dead before you even know it, but that’s not because you’re bad. It’s because he’s too good.
Youngbae is his driver. A simple title for a menial job. He drives—hands clenched around a steering wheel as a soft R’n’B tune resonates through the air. From a practical perspective, that's all Youngbae is, Seunghyun’s driver. But his duties don’t end there, he drives cargo, he ships cartel, chattel, Jiyong’s victims. Youngbae is simple but at the same time he’s not very simple at all.
Jiyong is his executioner. He’s in charge of the knives, the guns, the weapons.
If you’re on the target list, chances are you’re not going to be alive after G-Dragon is done with you. There’s finesse in the way he carves his victims, with slow strokes and a steady gait. He plays with them, dragging his knife through thick skin like putty, moulding his weapon against white and watching in awe as snow turns crimson.
To Jiyong, it’s pretty. It’s art.
Peace minus one, he calls it, slashing his victims and letting their blood run thick like oil-based paint. With his finger he glides through the red, a little mark of his own if you will, leaving a rather crude depiction of the globally known peace symbol. It’s Jiyong’s now. G-Dragon’s. Not something one would like to see in the corner of their basement. It’s his symbol, his mark. If you see it, you’re not going to be alive for much longer.
Jiyong is insane. He’s strong, he’s fierce, and his head isn’t screwed on correctly. Social convention means nothing to the lithe man, large grin enveloping his face as a response to death rather than a prescription to any sort of etiquette.
But, Jiyong is his. His bat-shit crazy lover. And there’s nothing Seunghyun loves to see more than the wide grin on his lover’s beautiful face. Fantastic face. Smiling like the twinkling stars of the night, a look of innocence that portrays none of his gruesome tales. But then he pushes the cold, glistening barrel into the sturdy cartilage of an ear. So maybe that innocence is a lie.
One, two, three. Or is it three, two, one?
Either way—bang, bang, bang.
There shouldn’t be anything wrong. Seunghyun had called in security, had called in backup. He specifically made sure that Jiyong didn’t go in alone this time. He made sure Jiyong wasn’t by himself.
But Jiyong had escaped from his bodyguards.
He’s slippery like that, Seunghyun thinks a little fondly. There’s nothing Jiyong can’t get himself out of, a snake at the worst of times. It makes for a great assassin and someone Seunghyun is proud to call his own.
However, things went wrong.
There was a mole in their system, feeding information to the enemy. He wasn't high in the ranks and Seunghyun had never personally met the other. The guy was lucky he had been eliminated just as quickly as his role was brought to light. Seunghyun would have gutted him, taking his time to truly eviscerate the other. Nothing like what really went down. He would’ve been slow—thorough—an ode to Jiyong. To his Jiyong. They’ve learnt much from each other over the years.
It’s all due to this mole that Jiyong is bleeding now, rivulets of crimson spilling like the finest glass of ambrosia.
“Jiyong,” Seunghyun breathes, holding a hand out to press into his lover’s side.
He was shot in the shoulder, caught off guard when his back was turned. Daesung had reported Jiyong whimsically leading the army, almost without a care in the world. He had escaped from the lackeys, his own personal bodyguards, rushing ahead with his glossy knife.
There were so many, Seungri had said after, hacking into the database and preventing entry points from being utilised. The cameras had caught sight of a few dozen men still lingering around the warehouse, guns sheathed like their sharp metal counterparts.
The men shouldn’t have been there, but they were, all due to this fucking mole that Seunghyun should have eliminated from the very beginning. They were there and they shot Jiyong. Beautiful, gorgeous Jiyong who could only kill so many before he was inevitably torn down. Shot in the shoulder. Just above the organ that pumps precious, life-giving liquid through his veins.
“Seunghyun,” Jiyong coughs into his palm. There’s red when he pulls back. Bright red and thick, all viscous and congealed. The thickness is due to a mix of phlegm and other lung problems, consequences of a lifetime of smoking.
“Baby, I’m here,” Seunghyun rubs his finger into his lover’s pale, glistening cheek. He shushes him, holding his head steady and applying pressure onto the affected area.
Jiyong, the trooper, doesn’t even fucking flinch. He smiles like the insane man he is, like the insane boy who caught Seunghyun’s affections oh-so long ago.
“I cut off the bastard’s dick,” Jiyong’s grin is wide now, his eyes fluttering slightly shut. “He shot me and I lunged at him. I stuck my knife into his ball-sack and castrated him right on the spot.”
Of course he did, Seunghyun thinks, but the thought is anything but malicious. Rather fond, actually. With sure strokes, he continues to rub down the smooth plains of Jiyong’s milky cheeks, pressing the tip of his thumb onto the cracked edges of blood soaked lips.
“He screamed, hyung. He screamed so loud,” his breaths hurry in tempo, indicating pain and discomfort. “He thrashed around and I laughed hard because that’s what he fucking gets.”
A cough. Once more. Red and thick and right onto the cold concrete floor. It’s a discord in colour, red on asphalt grey. Colour in a muted world. Light in the black of darkness.
“Shush baby. You’ve done well.” Seunghyun smooths the thick of his thumb across the edge of Jiyong’s jaw. “You rest, okay? Youngbae’s coming.”
“Mm, okay hyung.” Jiyong reaches a hand up to pull at Seunghyun’s black locks, the limb wavering slightly under the stress and pressure of gravity.
Seunghyun knows what Jiyong wants and acquiesces to the other’s subtle demands, moving his head down to press his lips against his fantastical lover. All at once, everything feels muted. Gone are the sounds of minimal muttering, of bodies being bagged and shuffled, of far-off distant cars honking on a long sandgate bridge.
All Seunghyun can feel is Jiyong. His pulse feels excessive, electrified, and the warmth of his stomach curls like it does when he’s under pressure. This is what Jiyong makes him feel. Like a green mobster, on the precipice of his large break. Like a child, Seunghyun feels giddy, counting the stars of the night with an innocence in his tone.
Jiyong makes him young again. He makes him new again.
The metallic twang of blood does nothing to detract from the kiss, a simple addition to what was already a messy saliva-filled fiesta.
When Jiyong groans, a little pained, Seunghyun pulls back. He immediately holds the other's face in the palm of his hands, caressing his cheek gently.
“Ouch,” Jiyong groans, shuffling a little to the side to accommodate Seunghyun’s large and heavy weight.
If Jiyong’s complaining about pain, then it must fucking hurt. So instead, Seunghyun continues to hold the other against the weight of his chest, patting his head and wondering where the fuck Youngbae is.
“Love you Seunghyun,” his lover mumbles against thick leather, words slightly muffled in the press of cool fabric.
Jiyong’s eyes flutter shut, a result of pain and blood-loss, body going limp in Seunghyun’s arms.
“I love you too, baby.”
Jiyong’s off duty until he heals. Or at least that’s what Seunghyun had ordered.
The number of attacks against their group increase tenfold in the next few weeks. There are snipes from every direction, moles appearing and disappearing like phantoms. It gets to the point where Seunghyun’s contemplating if he should hire any more people considering how many are defecting right under his nose. Why should he risk the lives of his crew, Jiyong’s life, when he can easily stop this from happening?
Daesung tells him it’s not sustainable. That he needs other people.
Seunghyun tells him he needs Jiyong.
It’s because of Jiyong being out that these people are finally snooping around, feeling a lot braver now that their resident psycho is not around. They become bold, a little careless in the way they conduct their meetings. Seungri finds a pair trying to leak info and quickly disposes of them without a second glance.
Just because Jiyong isn’t there, doesn’t mean they’re useless.
During this period, Seunghyun learns just how important Jiyong is to him. When he drags himself out of their residence, there is a weight pressing against his heart. It tells him that he needs to go back home. That he needs to look after Jiyong. Deadly assassin G-Dragon becomes a child when he’s forced to live alone, unable to cook, unable to look after himself. Seunghyun needs to look after him.
He’s forced to pay attention to his subordinates, but for the rest of the day, his mind and heart is with Jiyong. Has he eaten lunch? Did he take his medication? Is he resting?
Rationally speaking, Seunghyun knows a man like him should not be worrying so much. He has people to look after, important people. The state of life and death is in the palm of his hands, and meaningless cogitation about the wellbeing of his not even bed-ridden lover is not smart.
Seunghyun thinks he knows why all the attacks suddenly come at once. It’s because he’s being foolish. Careless. Unobservant. He hears the things some say, now that ‘his bitch’ is gone, he’s been distracted.
“TOP,” a voice startles him out of his reverie.
It’s Mino, a member from a close gang. He’s also Jiyong’s younger cousin, and his lover always talks about his cute Minho, how he’s such a smart little kid.
“Yes?” Seunghyun questions, turning his head to the side.
“We have information on who is stealing our shipment.”
Seunghyun forces his attention to remain on the other, shaking his head and clearing his thoughts. He has a job to do. As much as he’d love to constantly think about Jiyong, he is required to lead these people. They look up to him.
And so he does.
Jiyong is back on the field in no time.
He’s a fast healer, never one to use up his restoration period.
There’s a slight shudder in his step when he meets with the rest of them, but he hides it away behind his crazed grin, gun at one hip and knife at the other. He dual wields both, as wild as that is. Pistol in one hand as he lunges forward and knifes his unsuspecting victim. An indescribably insane style that only the revered G-Dragon possesses.
“Hyung! You’re back,” Seungri smiles bright, reaching over to hug their self-proclaimed killer.
“Can’t keep me away for too long,” he moves forward to ruffle Seungri’s hair, a small smile on his face.
“Good to see you back, Jiyong.” Youngbae nods at the other.
“TOP-hyung was going a little crazy without you,” Seungri whispers from the side and Seunghyun rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
“I’m pretty sure he heard you,” Daesung laughs, snorting loudly. “You’re not exactly the quietest person.”
Seunghyun watches the scene with warm eyes. The dynamic between them is good-natured, more than just slightly friendly. They’ve been together for a long time, and they swear to be together until the very end. Until they all go down, guns blazing. The bubbling laughter that erupts is the result of countless nights spent suffering in less than favourable conditions, cooped away with blood on their face and guilt in their throat.
They’ve seen the world in all its colours. They lived it together. As one.
Jiyong heals up fully, and he’s back to work. There’s a drug trade tonight with a rival gang. It’s not safe and Seunghyun knows it has the potential to go wrong. To go horribly wrong. All he wants is to hide Jiyong away, to keep him at home within the warm comforts of their soft bedding. He wants to make sure the other won’t get hurt. He has only just healed up.
But then Seunghyun stares into the eyes of his lover, watching as he washes up and presses his gun into its holder. Watches as Jiyong wipes the blade of his knife with the smooth silk of his nightgown, cleaning away any dust and grime that has accumulated over the short few weeks. Jiyong’s eyes light up as he breathes in steadily, anticipation on his heels.
Seunghyun told him this job had a very high chance to go wrong and Jiyong’s smile only grew wider.
The rush of adrenaline is already pumping through Jiyong’s veins. It lights him up. It makes him even more beautiful, if that were possible. He’s practically shaking with excitement, and Seunghyun knows how much this means to Jiyong that he’s letting the other help today. Seunghyun is putting his trust in Jiyong, putting his utter faith in the extraordinary man.
The sounds of Youngbae’s car engine out the front of their home rouses Seunghyun and he quickly moves forward to plant a heart-stopping kiss on his lover.
Jiyong moans rather loudly, pulling Seunghyun by the shirt and melding their bodies even closer. Seunghyun takes his time to explore the other’s mouth, holding Jiyong within the weight of his grasp. There’s nothing Seunghyun wants to do more than to pin his lover to the bed, to devour him whole, to get him whining and keening.
But now’s not the time. Maybe tonight if they’re lucky.
Seunghyun is the one to pull back first, watching in awe as Jiyong’s eyes flutter open, mouth red and delicious.
“Have fun,” Seunghyun whispers, breath fanning over the plains of his lover’s face.
“Oh, I will.” Jiyong responds with a maniacal grin. He pushes forward to nibble slightly at Seunghyun’s bottom lip.
Their hands remain glued to each other when they enter the vehicle. Jiyong sits on Seunghyun’s lap, head resting against the side of the elder’s collarbone. His clothes are perfectly pressed, looking entirely calm despite the battle that’s sure to ensue. Not that Jiyong has a thing called ‘nerves’ as most people do. It’s a trait that Seunghyun finds intriguing about his lover, and he curls his fingers into the side of Jiyong’s hip, possessive. A sign of ownership. He wants to keep this one, he thinks.
Jiyong sprawls out, letting his legs and body hang all over Seunghyun. When they were young, Seunghyun thought Jiyong was going to be the one who would take control. He was always the leader--the stylish yet driven soul, eager to rise up the ranks and become the head.
Things didn’t exactly go to plan and that’s the only reason why Seunghyun is the one assuming top position. It’s a role that he knows Jiyong should have, but the other seems quite adamant in staying as the group’s lead psycho. He apparently likes it when Seunghyun ‘takes control’. Whatever that means.
“We’re here,” Youngbae speaks a little slowly, staring out into the dark and abandoned loft.
Jiyong makes no move to leave his position, torso resting directly in Seunghyun’s arms. He doesn’t seem desperate to leave, which in itself is surprising enough. Usually Jiyong loves this. He loves the game of hunting. There’s something animalistic about the way Jiyong gets when he curls his lips into a bright grin, blood dripping down his fingertips.
It’s during these times that Seunghyun remembers Jiyong isn’t exactly the sanest of people. A job like theirs doesn’t require sane people though. And Seunghyun wouldn’t have it any other way.
What’s disconcerting is the fact that Jiyong isn’t jumping towards the scene. He lives off this, he thrives off it. The fact that he’s holding quite tightly onto the soft material of Seunghyun’s pants, face buried into the crook of the elder’s neck is more than a little worrying.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Seunghyun croons softly.
He presses Jiyong further into his neck, feeling soft lips brush against his jugular vein. Jiyong’s teeth graze the fluttering heartbeat, and Seunghyun lets out a slight gasp of surprise when a wet tongue trails over the smooth surface.
“I’m… I just… I don’t want to lose you.”
It’s as uncharacteristic as anything and Seunghyun releases a confused noise, not expecting the confession. They don’t talk about losing each other. It’s not something that they should in a world like theirs. Life is unpredictable, but it’s something they signed up for. Talking about their inevitable demise is pointless, especially when it’s a conversation that can only end on a bad note.
“Jiyong baby,” Seunghyun pulls back and forces the other’s gaze onto him. He doesn’t have his usual crazed look, seeming a lot more muted than what Seunghyun is used to. Meekness is not a word often used to describe Jiyong, a ball of concentrated energy bursting at the seams at the worst of times.
“You’re not going to lose me,” Seunghyun makes sure to properly enunciate each and every word, forcing it through Jiyong’s thick skull.
Something must’ve happened during the other’s rehabilitation time, to get him all worried about Seunghyun’s wellbeing like this. The look of wariness on his face as he tries to bring his gaze down is all too telling.
There aren’t many people Seunghyun is genuinely kind to, but Jiyong is one of them. And so it’s with utter reverence in his voice that he drags his hand to cup his cheek, tone like molten honey. He soothes Jiyong, knowing just how much the other loves his voice, letting the words waft past interested ears. It seems to be working and Jiyong smiles back at him, something that has a little of the fire that Seunghyun is used to.
Their bodies are woven together and Seunghyun’s thankful that Youngbae had the insight to leave the car much earlier on. This is a sight too intimate for their members to see, a touch of sweetness Seunghyun is not willing to show many others. It’s important though, more important now than it probably ever will be, gearing Jiyong up to retain his usual fierce prowess.
It doesn’t take long before Jiyong is back to his usual self and Seunghyun smiles when Jiyong looks as fired up as ever. Seunghyun makes sure he presses one long and drawn out kiss on the top of his lover’s head before the other leaves, smiling bright when Jiyong looks slightly wooed out.
Jiyong’s tone is questioning but Seunghyun smiles, enjoying the way his face contorts, knowing that his smile will not last the evening.
They had chosen an abandoned loft to fit every stereotype there is about gangs.
There’s only Seunghyun’s trusted men with him today, each geared up and staked around the building. Jiyong is the only one inside with him, looking entirely peaceful despite the tense meetup.
Suho only has one man with him too but Seunghyun’s sure the other’s men are similarly scattered around, arming themselves in case of an emergency.
There’s a fierceness in Seunghyun’s tone that is nothing like the affection he had displayed not so long ago. He’s T.O.P here. Big bad T.O.P. It’s time to get his head in order.
“I heard you stole our shipment.”
“We didn’t fucking steal any—” Suho’s lackey curses loudly from beside the other, stepping forwards.
Before Seunghyun is able to say anything, Jiyong unsheathes his knife and holds it dangerously in the palm of his grasp. In the blink of an eye, he’s close to them. Much closer than he was previously. His grip on the weapon is slight but sure and Seunghyun watches as Suho’s member gulps, throat constricting on instinct. The sight is intimidating, moonlight waxing over the shiny blade and illuminating the vacant room.
“Jiyong,” Seunghyun says a little warningly, and the other snoops back. He keeps the knife is his grip, lazily caressing the blade. Red blossoms at the vertex of Jiyong’s finger, dropping as elegantly as blood can onto the grey concrete flooring.
“Keep your crazy bitch under control,” the fearless man says causing Seunghyun’s patience to waver.
He doesn’t stop Jiyong this time when he stalks serenely towards the other, gliding his knife through the air, letting the sheer metal whistle like an old wailing kettle. It’s nothing more than just a simple warding off, a performance, but the man slinks back, afraid—only bark, no bite.
“Chen,” Suho quips, tone slightly reprimanding. The ‘Chen’ character keeps his head down when business is conducted, having learnt his lesson. Seunghyun assumes the other is going to get a scolding when they leave.
Surprisingly, everything goes without a hitch and when the two of them leave with a significant pile of money under their belt, Seunghyun feels as though he’s been duped.
“I thought I was going to spill some blood besides my own tonight,” Jiyong notes when they exit the lone building.
Seunghyun snorts at that but inwardly agrees. How could it be this easy? Never is it this easy.
It’s probably because of this wariness that they aren’t surprised when they are attacked later on. The gunshot is hardly noticed and it's only due to years of being in the firing line that causes Seunghyun to lean back and dodge on instinct. He instantly sends a nonverbal direction to Jiyong, a signal that’s communicated via sharp gazes, and the two of them attack back.
When he hides behind a leaky car, Seunghyun’s gun is heavy in the palm of his hand, shooting off a round of bullets and reloading quickly.
There are men coming at them from all sides, a significant amount carrying a variety of weapons. From large bats and poles to hand-held guns, they clamber towards the two. With interest, Seunghyun watches them approach Jiyong, slightly hesitant in their steps. Jiyong’s known for his ferocity, for his violence. There isn’t a man in their league that hasn’t heard of the dangerous G-Dragon. And so these men come rather tentatively, inescapably falling prey to the wonder that is Jiyong.
He’s in his element tonight, slashing through the air, letting his knife cut through skin like soft butter. Blood sprays, painting the man red, but it does nothing to hinder his movement, clawing through and emerging at the top.
The look in Jiyong’s eyes is the same emotion-filled wonder that never fails to entrance Seunghyun. He’s laughing as he cuts through these people, as though they are pieces of meat. Which, inevitably, they are.
Seunghyun makes sure to gun down his own set of people, but it’s nothing compared to the way Jiyong performs. Because this is a performance. Of blood and guts and infused emotions. But a performance nonetheless. Jiyong is a beautiful man, probably the most beautiful man Seunghyun has ever seen in his life. There isn’t a moment in his life where he isn’t stunning.
Now though—now as he cuts through these people, as he slashes, as he rips. As he fucking bites a man’s ear off, cartilage flying through the air and landing on the cracked concrete like a prized possession. Now. Now, Jiyong is breathtaking.
Later when the men have been disposed of, when Jiyong is still buzzing with excitement in his veins and blood on his cheeks, Seunghyun thinks Jiyong might not be the only crazy one. There’s no dismembered penis here but there are a lot of limbs scattered aimlessly, a hand, a foot, the bitten ear. Adrenaline is still pumping through them like an intoxicating drug, melting their veins as pungent acid and burning through their skull whole.
Jiyong is still the most beautiful creature, hands slightly shaky around his cut—but hardly clean—scimitar. They shake because they’re excited, not because he’s in fear of what he’s done. His hands shake because of elation. Because he’s happy. There’s something fucked up about that, about the way Jiyong jumps around contentedly, like a giddy child. It’s perverse relating child-like wonder to the relaxation the other feels after killing, but there isn’t any other term Seunghyun would label it as. He becomes guileless, a little restless, slightly battered.
Seunghyun makes sure he cleans Jiyong up when they get home, pressing the wet cloth into the grooves of the other’s cheeks. The water turns red with blood, clogging up their drains but Jiyong preens into the soft caresses, mouth drowsily turning upwards into a hazy smile.
His voice is as drowsy as he is, sounding slightly quirky under the bathroom’s warm heat lights. He’s naked, resting in the bath as Seunghyun cleans him up, face nuzzling further into the elder’s strong grip.
Seunghyun stops his rubbing, letting the cloth hang a little stiffy against the corner of Jiyong’s cheek. He sends the other a confused glance, cocking his head to the side.
Jiyong blinks at him, and his words come out a lot clearer than his murky look of bliss.
“For believing in me. Beforehand. You always give me strength when I’m down. You are my strength.”
Seunghyun wets his cloth again, letting the dirty water rinse down the drain before cleaning the milky skin of Jiyong’s neck and shoulders.
He doesn’t say anything to Jiyong but presses his lips against the other’s skin, a wordless no worries. Jiyong continues to smile as Seunghyun meticulously lathers him with attention, holding him close and making sure that no inch of Jiyong is left without a gentle caress.
They’re a little fucked up. But, Seunghyun thinks as Jiyong giggles excitedly into his shoulder, they make it work.