he will do very well
i can tell, i can tell
Pairing: gd/top
Rating: r (overall mature themes)
Summary: Seunghyun falls for a serial killer.
1064 words~
Prompt: Immortal [ x]
“Wanna know what the best thing about killing someone is?” Jiyong grins, a mouthful of smoke escaping his lips. And it’s almost scary, how happy he looks, buzzed with so much excitement his fingers keep tapping his glass of scotch, metal rings clinking like broken ice.
He doesn’t wait for Seunghyun’s response and Seunghyun doesn’t bother to give him one. So he continues.
“It’s the look on their face,” and Jiyong’s fingers fly up to gesture around his, “you know…afterwards.” He puts out his stump of a cigarette and fishes out another one from his coat pocket, leaves it between his lips but doesn’t light it. He forgets. And isn't that typical Jiyong, mind running faster than his hands can keep up with.
“Usually their eyes close or at least glaze over. Their mouths slack open and it’s like they give their last breath, their final exhale.” And he dramatically demonstrates, chest heaving from the deep breath in then out, sharp collarbones peaking out from under pale skin. The bartender and surrounding patrons give him strange looks, but Jiyong doesn't mind. He was always a sucker for attention. Good or bad, it doesn't matter. As long as he can effortlessly demand an audience, he'd always view himself as a revered stage player. A dark vigilante of city streets, an alluring vampire you'd want to lose your life to. It's almost amazing, how vain a single man can be.
And yet here's Seunghyun, somehow his biggest fucking fan.
“And then there’s nothing…just this peace." Jiyong pauses, smile faltering just the slightest, staring at a single distant point across the room that Seunghyun’s not really sure where. “...Don't they look so serene when they’re dead?”
Jiyong's gaze lowers, eyes slowly moving side to side, mouth searching for the right words to say. And it’s then that he attempts to take a drag of his unlit cigarette. He chuckles and his eyes turn into crescent moons when it doesn't work.
“Here,” Seunghyun says, hand outstretched and offering his lighter. Flame ablaze, Jiyong meets him in the middle and his smirk returns. He breathes in, watches the tip burn and quiver into smoke, fills up his lungs and holds it in for as long he can. It's silly, Jiyong knows it, but he always thought it would taste better this way. Making the most out of every breath. His chest starts to burn and he can feel it coming back up his throat, dry and hot.
And then finally, he exhales, lets it all out.
“Everything they ever experienced, the happiness, the sadness, the regrets and burdens…it’s all dead. Don’t you see?” he asks, face bemused like the answer is so obvious. “They’re free.”
Jiyong leans forward and glances at Seunghyun, stares into his eyes like he’s staring into his soul, like Seunghyun is striped down to the bones, as if he's one of those pretty dead faces Jiyong admires so much. And well maybe he is. Seunghyun always felt dead ever since he met the man.
Jiyong finally pulls away to take a sip of his drink and Seunghyun feels like the hands at his throat have loosened just a bit.
“And the best thing is... we did that,” Jiyong continues, “We set them free.”
---
Jiyong likes his metals. He likes the thick shiny chunks of silver draped around his neck, his wrists, his fingers. "They weigh me down, anchor me," he says.
And he likes his guns. His .45 caliber revolver when he’s feeling confident, when he likes the power and likes the way the recoil almost hurts. His .22 semi-automatic when he wants it done quickly and quietly, no mess no fuss.
“And what do you like most?” he asks Seunghyun one night, eyes glazed red, drunk or smashed or maybe both. “What’s your favorite way of doing it?” He creeps his hand slowly up Seunghyun’s thigh, fingertips reaching the inner seam. And Seunghyun would be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart race.
“I honestly can't say. I'm not sure,” his eyes lower to Jiyong’s lips, thinking about how they would fit perfectly against his.
He knows, Jiyong always knew, that Seunghyun was a sucker for pretty things. And well Jiyong is as pretty as they come. Everybody knows that.
"That's a shame," he coos, voice low and sultry, and he climbs his way onto Seunghyun's lap. "There's so many ways we can do it baby. We should try everything, see which one you like the most." He leans down and bites at Seunghyun's jaw, licks his way up to his ear and nips on the soft flesh. "Maybe you'll like pain..."
And Seunghyun can't help but moan, can't help but grip Jiyong's waist with hard fingers and cant his hips upward, already full of want and pent-up desire. But luckily, Jiyong's just as greedy, and he lets him, meets him halfway. He mashes their lips together, and sucks on his tongue, fingers entangled into the other's hair. Pulling, craving for more.
"Maybe you'll like the power..." Jiyong murmurs when they pull apart for a breath, their foreheads still pressed together.
"Maybe...," Seunghyun replies and he's breathing so hard, so fast. And it's almost scary, how much his chest hurts, how much he wants Jiyong right now, forever.
He kisses him again, softly this time, less desperate. But he catches the way Jiyong's breath hitches, how he lets out a moan against his mouth, how his skin is burning and sensitive. When they pull apart, he's all flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. Their stiff arousals pushed against each other speaking more words than they ever could.
"Fuck me," Jiyong says softly and it's not a question. Seunghyun smiles.
---
Seunghyun pulls the trigger and the shot rips across the street, echoes back at them from the shadows. The body falls to the ground with a heavy thump. A dark motionless lump no more distinguishable from the dark concrete if not for the harsh gasping, the sound of blood surging out. Jiyong and Seunghyun watch, they wait it out, until everything becomes still and quiet.
"Well?..." Jiyong asks, his cold thin fingers cupping Seunghyun's cheek. And Seunghyun's not sure what to say, how to feel. He just sheepishly offers a smile and gently leans into the touch. It's enough, it's all he needs.
"Didn't I tell you?" Jiyong asks, unable to hide his grin.
Pairing: gd/top
Rating: r (overall mature themes)
Summary: Seunghyun falls for a serial killer.
1064 words~
Prompt: Immortal [ x]
“Wanna know what the best thing about killing someone is?” Jiyong grins, a mouthful of smoke escaping his lips. And it’s almost scary, how happy he looks, buzzed with so much excitement his fingers keep tapping his glass of scotch, metal rings clinking like broken ice.
He doesn’t wait for Seunghyun’s response and Seunghyun doesn’t bother to give him one. So he continues.
“It’s the look on their face,” and Jiyong’s fingers fly up to gesture around his, “you know…afterwards.” He puts out his stump of a cigarette and fishes out another one from his coat pocket, leaves it between his lips but doesn’t light it. He forgets. And isn't that typical Jiyong, mind running faster than his hands can keep up with.
“Usually their eyes close or at least glaze over. Their mouths slack open and it’s like they give their last breath, their final exhale.” And he dramatically demonstrates, chest heaving from the deep breath in then out, sharp collarbones peaking out from under pale skin. The bartender and surrounding patrons give him strange looks, but Jiyong doesn't mind. He was always a sucker for attention. Good or bad, it doesn't matter. As long as he can effortlessly demand an audience, he'd always view himself as a revered stage player. A dark vigilante of city streets, an alluring vampire you'd want to lose your life to. It's almost amazing, how vain a single man can be.
And yet here's Seunghyun, somehow his biggest fucking fan.
“And then there’s nothing…just this peace." Jiyong pauses, smile faltering just the slightest, staring at a single distant point across the room that Seunghyun’s not really sure where. “...Don't they look so serene when they’re dead?”
Jiyong's gaze lowers, eyes slowly moving side to side, mouth searching for the right words to say. And it’s then that he attempts to take a drag of his unlit cigarette. He chuckles and his eyes turn into crescent moons when it doesn't work.
“Here,” Seunghyun says, hand outstretched and offering his lighter. Flame ablaze, Jiyong meets him in the middle and his smirk returns. He breathes in, watches the tip burn and quiver into smoke, fills up his lungs and holds it in for as long he can. It's silly, Jiyong knows it, but he always thought it would taste better this way. Making the most out of every breath. His chest starts to burn and he can feel it coming back up his throat, dry and hot.
And then finally, he exhales, lets it all out.
“Everything they ever experienced, the happiness, the sadness, the regrets and burdens…it’s all dead. Don’t you see?” he asks, face bemused like the answer is so obvious. “They’re free.”
Jiyong leans forward and glances at Seunghyun, stares into his eyes like he’s staring into his soul, like Seunghyun is striped down to the bones, as if he's one of those pretty dead faces Jiyong admires so much. And well maybe he is. Seunghyun always felt dead ever since he met the man.
Jiyong finally pulls away to take a sip of his drink and Seunghyun feels like the hands at his throat have loosened just a bit.
“And the best thing is... we did that,” Jiyong continues, “We set them free.”
---
Jiyong likes his metals. He likes the thick shiny chunks of silver draped around his neck, his wrists, his fingers. "They weigh me down, anchor me," he says.
And he likes his guns. His .45 caliber revolver when he’s feeling confident, when he likes the power and likes the way the recoil almost hurts. His .22 semi-automatic when he wants it done quickly and quietly, no mess no fuss.
“And what do you like most?” he asks Seunghyun one night, eyes glazed red, drunk or smashed or maybe both. “What’s your favorite way of doing it?” He creeps his hand slowly up Seunghyun’s thigh, fingertips reaching the inner seam. And Seunghyun would be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart race.
“I honestly can't say. I'm not sure,” his eyes lower to Jiyong’s lips, thinking about how they would fit perfectly against his.
He knows, Jiyong always knew, that Seunghyun was a sucker for pretty things. And well Jiyong is as pretty as they come. Everybody knows that.
"That's a shame," he coos, voice low and sultry, and he climbs his way onto Seunghyun's lap. "There's so many ways we can do it baby. We should try everything, see which one you like the most." He leans down and bites at Seunghyun's jaw, licks his way up to his ear and nips on the soft flesh. "Maybe you'll like pain..."
And Seunghyun can't help but moan, can't help but grip Jiyong's waist with hard fingers and cant his hips upward, already full of want and pent-up desire. But luckily, Jiyong's just as greedy, and he lets him, meets him halfway. He mashes their lips together, and sucks on his tongue, fingers entangled into the other's hair. Pulling, craving for more.
"Maybe you'll like the power..." Jiyong murmurs when they pull apart for a breath, their foreheads still pressed together.
"Maybe...," Seunghyun replies and he's breathing so hard, so fast. And it's almost scary, how much his chest hurts, how much he wants Jiyong right now, forever.
He kisses him again, softly this time, less desperate. But he catches the way Jiyong's breath hitches, how he lets out a moan against his mouth, how his skin is burning and sensitive. When they pull apart, he's all flushed cheeks and glossy eyes. Their stiff arousals pushed against each other speaking more words than they ever could.
"Fuck me," Jiyong says softly and it's not a question. Seunghyun smiles.
---
Seunghyun pulls the trigger and the shot rips across the street, echoes back at them from the shadows. The body falls to the ground with a heavy thump. A dark motionless lump no more distinguishable from the dark concrete if not for the harsh gasping, the sound of blood surging out. Jiyong and Seunghyun watch, they wait it out, until everything becomes still and quiet.
"Well?..." Jiyong asks, his cold thin fingers cupping Seunghyun's cheek. And Seunghyun's not sure what to say, how to feel. He just sheepishly offers a smile and gently leans into the touch. It's enough, it's all he needs.
"Didn't I tell you?" Jiyong asks, unable to hide his grin.