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Jiyong looked up from the coffee table, where he’d been counting out stacks of money, to see the tall, white haired man he’d been expecting strolling through the door. Jiyong finished counting and tossed the last rubber-banded stack into the briefcase waiting by his feet. Seunghyun, sitting on the couch beside him, closed it and handed it off to the man who’d come in with him.
“Easy trip?” Jiyong asked, looking at him through the orange-tinted aviators that nearly matched the tangerine shade of his hair. The gold bracelets on his right wrist jangled when he brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Easy as ever.” Seunghyun replied, taking in the kiss printed button-down Jiyong was wearing, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows so that some of his tattoos were visible. He did always wonder why Jiyong dressed so flamboyantly, not that he could really talk; Seunghyun was wearing his favorite suit, black and white gingham with a red silk pocket square.
“Well, that case goes off to Taeyang, make sure he distributes everything properly.” Jiyong leaned back and lit a cigarette, offering the pack to Seunghyun.
“Have you ever known him to not distribute properly?”
“Well, that was a big shipment. I’m surprised you made it back into the country.” I’m so glad you made it back went unsaid.
“I always come back safe.” I always come back to you went unsaid as well. “As long as we keep hiding the coke as carefully as we do, we’ll be fine.”
“I hope you can convince Seungri of that. He’s been up my ass about the new shipping techniques ever since you left.”
“I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”
Neither of them were sure why they always spent so much time talking shop before they went to do what they wanted to do, what they were dying to do, what they pretended they didn’t do. It had been like this since they met, when Daesung put Jiyong in touch with Seunghyun to grow their business. Being a drug lord wasn’t an easy job, but Seunghyun took a lot of the stress out of the whole procedure just by being so calm and put together.
The door closed behind Seunghyun’s man, off to deliver the money. They were alone in Jiyong’s penthouse. The opulent apartment was partially decorated by Jiyong, and the rest had been filled in with gifts of art from Seunghyun. Before he’d smuggled cocaine for Jiyong and Daesung, he’d been more interested in art smuggling. Now he had more of it than he knew what to do with and gave Jiyong presents often.
They finished their cigarettes in silence, the familiar antsy feeling filling their stomachs. It was always like this, no matter how many times they did this. There would be silence while one waited for the other to make a move. Usually it was Jiyong who finally gave in, but Seunghyun had been gone for a while and he didn’t have the patience for the usual run around. Which was why as soon as Jiyong stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ash tray, Seunghyun grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him upright off the couch. Jiyong let out a yelp of surprise, tapering off into a moan of pleasure. He loved when Seunghyun manhandled him, especially when it came to yanking him bodily into his bedroom.
Seunghyun loved the ostentatious four-poster bed Jiyong kept. He practically tossed Jiyong on top of it before going for the bag of tricks he knew Jiyong kept underneath the bed. The third time he and Jiyong had had sex, the younger man had presented him with the bag of tricks; Seunghyun had gagged him and handcuffed him to the bed. He knew there had to be something in there that would tickle both of their fancies for the evening.
Jiyong was busily stripping out of his clothes by the time Seunghyun came back up with the bag. Jiyong started digging in it excitedly as Seunghyun began to methodically remove his suit, piece by piece, neatly placed off to the side in a leather armchair. Jiyong selected a few options, dropped his boxers over the side of the bed, and waited.
Seunghyun looked at the selection before him: a riding crop, a familiar toy (Jiyong had screamed so beautifully through the whole thing); a blindfold (Seunghyun had been tormented so much the night they used that one, having to wait for whatever Jiyong was going to do to him in the dark); and finally, a leather collar with a ring in the middle of it, like it could connect to a leash.
Jiyong’s eyes lit up when Seunghyun picked up the collar. “Bow your head,” Seunghyun murmured, waiting until Jiyong had exposed the back of his slender neck to fasten the collar around it. As soon as it was secure, Seunghyun hooked his fingers through the loop, pulling Jiyong up by his neck. “Do you want to belong to me, Jiyong?”
“Tonight I do.” The younger man said, pupils blown wide. Every time was supposed to be the last time they did this. Every time Seunghyun came back from a trip, they were supposed to not fuck each other’s brains out. It had been nearly a year, and they hadn’t stopped yet.
“Then show me how much you want to belong to me.” And Jiyong did, letting his jaw go slack to let Seunghyun push into his mouth. The white haired man groaned, fingers twisting in Jiyong’s orange hair at the familiar warmth and wetness. Jiyong was too good at this. Seunghyun could only stand a few minutes of it before he was flipping Jiyong over onto his back to work on opening him up.
“You’re loose.” The words came out more accusatory than Seunghyun had wanted, but how could those words not sound like that when he was two fingers deep in Jiyong. The drug lord, eyes half-closed at the feeling of Seunghyun’s fingers in him, barely understood the words.
“What?” He murmured, trying to focus his eyes on Seunghyun. The older man’s free hand came to hold the ring of the collar, yanking Jiyong’s head up.
“You’re loose.” The growl both scared Jiyong and sent a thrill shooting up his spine. He knew what the implications were, knew what Seunghyun wasn’t saying. He’d gotten good at hearing what Seunghyun wasn’t saying. Who was it?
“Used the bag of tricks.” No one other than you.
The grip on the collar loosened slightly. “Good boy.” He pulled his fingers out, reapplied lube, and thrust three back in. Jiyong keened, back arching as one of Seunghyun’s thick fingers brushed against his prostate.
“Please, please,” Jiyong whined, his legs twitching uselessly on either side of Seunghyun’s hips. “Please, I need it.” I need you.
“On your belly.” Seunghyun helped him flip over, pressing him flat onto the bed. It was harder to get in this way, but it was worth it to hear Jiyong whimpering into the comforter and to feel how much tighter it was. After a careful adjustment of the collar so Seunghyun could still get his fingers through the ring, Seunghyun took off, pounding into Jiyong hard enough that it had to hurt. And it did, but Jiyong wasn’t about to tell him to stop. He liked that knife’s edge of pain in his pleasure, in what Seunghyun was giving him.
And he had gotten good at telling when Seunghyun had missed him. The older man only fucked him like this when he had missed him badly. When they’d been apart for a while, Seunghyun fucked him like he needed to break Jiyong’s body apart, like he needed to mark him as his own.
With the pace Seunghyun was going, and the horribly delicious friction against his dick, it wasn’t a surprise to Jiyong that he came only a minute after Seunghyun started choking him with the collar. Seunghyun kept going; Jiyong knew he could keep going for ages. The lack of airflow was keeping him just on this side of oversensitive. Jiyong hoped he would cum soon.
Seunghyun noticed how limp Jiyong went when he finally let go of the collar and decided the younger man had had enough. He let himself chase his own release, finally finishing with a loud moan. Jiyong was still face down when Seunghyun slid out, his limbs too unsteady to even think about moving.
Seunghyun at least was mobile and got up to clean them both up. It was easier than waiting for Jiyong to get up and fix the mess Seunghyun had made of his body. By the time Seunghyun was done mopping him up, Jiyong had found his legs again and toddled off to the bathroom. Seunghyun found his boxers and the pack of cigarettes, lighting up while Jiyong peed and finished cleaning up. The orange haired man took a cigarette for himself, finding his boxers and discarded jeans so he could go stand out on his balcony without the penthouse across the street seeing his dick flapping in the wind.
Seunghyun and Jiyong never cuddled afterwards. Jiyong always thought of this awkward time as their “no homo” period, where they both tried to pretend that Seunghyun hadn’t just been balls deep in Jiyong’s ass, and that they both hadn’t enjoyed it so much, and that they were never going to do it again. But they would, again and again. Like the cocaine they peddled, this was an addiction. And as long as it wasn’t killing them, the addiction was fine.
“Let’s not fall in love,” Jiyong murmured to himself and to the cherry on the end of his cigarette. It was one thing to do coke; it was another thing to love coke. If he fell in love with Seunghyun, that would be it. So he didn’t let himself feel hurt when he came back in to see Seunghyun getting dressed, didn’t ask for a goodbye kiss. But when Seunghyun turned to look at him before he left, Jiyong heard what he hadn’t said loud and clear.
I’ll be back, again and again.