Strip [TOP/Ri Oneshot]
Title: Strip
Rating: R
Pairing: TOP/Seungri, some TOP/Taeyang
Summary: ‘Hey, sexy.’ Seunghyun’s heart drops from his throat to his groin as Seungri begins walking forward to the center of the stage, steps commanding and strong and powerful that draw the attention of the entire room. [Strip Club!AU]
Notes: // Hey, guys! c: Thanks for reading - this is my first fic posted on livejournal (and, consequently, my first BigBang fic that I’ve actually finished)! I’m working on a couple others and collab-ing with my roommate (
goldintheshadow) on a couple others - expect more. More and smut. I have this fascination with writing smut.
Hope you like it. <3 I actually really love TOPRi and want to write it all-the-time-homg-yes.
So you know, the inspiration was listening to Seungri’s Strong Baby (if that wasn’t obvious), and I realized while blasting it on my way to work that when GD introduces him in the beginning, it kind of sounded like an MC introducing a stripper. And then I had to write it. Hnngggseungri. I recommend listening to the song while reading - it makes more sense and the flow comes off better. Or maybe I’m just strange. //
* Gogaeknim (go-gaek-nim) - roughly “dear/endeared customer”, used when addressing familiar or distinguished customers.
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Seunghyun wouldn’t say he’s a regular - that would imply perversion, financial superfluidity, and an excess of time he certainly didn’t have. He’s not a regular, but he does come to the strip joint every Thursday and Saturday. Specifically, at 10:45, he gets in line, enters the club between 10:57 and 11:00 (greeted on a first name basis by most bouncers), manages to find his usual seat in the corner around the front stage at about 11:20 (later, if it’s been previously occupied). At around 11:25, one of the waiters will bring him his glass of scotch, he’ll pass them a tip, and proceed to relax with liquid aid until sometime around 11:40, when his favorite act graces the stage.
Definitely not a regular.
And an anonymous non-regular, at that. Any name given under this roof is not his own, some nickname or something off the top of his head, always changing. Nobody seems to mind - as long as he pays and tips as well as he does, Seunghyun’s allowed to stay as long as he wants with the establishment’s finest service.
Furthermore, on top of being a non-regular, he’s also most certainly not-gay.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
It was a dare, somewhere around three or four months ago, after a few shots and a few bad attempted pick up lines on some loose women with some friends at the bar. Whoever successfully acquired a potential date’s phone number first would get an all-expenses-paid trip, courtesy of the pooled amount of cash from the other four participants, to the nicest strip club in Seoul. The last to get a number, if at all, would take themselves on a trip to the nicest men’s strip club in Seoul. A receipt would have to be procured at the end of the night to prove that there had been at least three-drinks worth of time spent there.
Seunghyun had lost.
The first night, he’d arrived all too early, all too nervous, all too overdressed and already reeling with nausea and anxiety from over-reacting about seeing a few naked men parade their wares on stage. It was awful and wrong and made his gut churn when the first stripper had stepped onto stage, all golden skin and oiled muscles and pristinely manicured hair (Ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure, Taeyang!).
It was horrible.
It took two minutes of show before he had to rush to the bathroom and jack off.
Definitely not-gay.
He went back the next day. And the next. And the next, until the cash he had to withdraw to feel adequate about the money he was throwing at impossibly gorgeous men that he certainly didn’t want to shove down on his dick was eating rather unpleasantly at his savings. So he’d made a schedule sometime in his room around 2am, one hand around his cock and the other shakily holding a pen as he calculated out a bi-weekly club visit system with financial budgets, half-daydreaming about that golden man he’d seen the first night until he came against his pyjama pants and went to bed in a self-deprecating stupor.
Despite the near-overwhelming coma of guilt he suffocates through every time he crosses the threshold of this building of sin, he won’t stop. Can’t stop. Each one of these men draws him in like the most gullible of children to a proverbial candy shop - they don’t even have to try before his money is all on the stage or in alcohol form in his fist. It’s the principle, he thinks, that keeps him coming back. The men that exhibit a confidence of movement and body that he’s never been able to achieve, that move and grind and sweat like gods and make his toes curl under the table. And he, sitting here under his layers of fine clothing and silk, too body-conscious to show even the skin of his forearms, isn’t sure if he wants them or wants to be them. Regardless, every time they come on stage, the strain in his pants and his heart rate is evident, especially when it’s his personal favorite gracing the pole.
Taeyang’s taken a special interest in Seunghyun, having identified him as his most frequent and financially consistent viewer. He plays to him on stage, and sometimes, off stage when the rest of the evening’s spotlight is given to the fast and vulgar GD or the angelic Daesung (Literally - the bastard wears angel wings while on the pole. Certainly not Seunghyun’s preference, but the men on either side of him seem to get off on it, so). Such is one of those times now, at precisely 1AM, when Taeyang’s finished smearing sun kissed sex all over the stage and slides himself inconspicuously into the plush VIP chair next to his number one customer. Out of the corner of his eye, Seunghyun notes that he’s wearing a dress shirt and waistcoat today - a fancier style of clothing he started adorning once discovering Seunghyun’s preference for men with class (or, maybe it’s to simply fuel his denial about surrounding himself with otherwise dirty men). He’s calm until he feels the familiar heat of a hand against his thigh and a voice in his ear that pushes his heart into his jugular.
“Yah, gogaeknim*~” Taeyang purrs, mouth impossibly close to the shell of Seunghyun’s ear. “You didn’t tip very well today. I worked extra hard on my choreography for you, too.” He can hear more than see the pout on the stripper’s mouth, and has to suppress a crack in his voice as that hand plays with the inner seam of his pants. The glass of scotch is set down on the table and Seunghyun reaches into his pocket (and his hands are not shaking because he’s not gay, and that would be pathetic even if he was) to slip a folded and paperclipped sum of won into the hand touching at his thigh.
“I wanted to give it to you, personally.” Seunghyun manages to cough out, tugging slightly at the inside of his shirt collar. Was it hot in there? “Throwing too much money on the stage seems a little.. undistinguished.”
He mentally thanks Taeyang for taking the money without an argument and not pointing out that they are in a strip club, after all. The currency disappears somewhere in the folds of the clothes that reek of a dressing room full of cheap cologne, and Seunghyun finds himself idly wondering if he wanted to, if he could re-discover that currency under his clothes. Preferably with his teeth or something.
“Komapsumnida~” Comes the response, and all Seunghyun manages is a stiff nod as he clears his throat and tries to make some sort of conversation when that damn hand returns to his leg and he falters.
“A-ah, uh, I was wondering when the next act is on. Isn’t this taking a little long?” Again, another mental thank you to the stripper for not laughing at what is clearly an act to disguise both the need to see more skin-hips-abs, and the other sort of need that’s tenting his pants. He hears a breathy sigh and a chuckle, feels a warm body lean against his own and tickling breath against his neck. There were reasons he’d picked Taeyang as his favorite, and it wasn’t just for how well his body slid around the stage - the man was a tease, and some sort of masochistic strain in Seunghyun absolutely ate it up.
“Because there’s a special act coming up next, gogaeknim. I think... you’ll be very pleased.” A smirk curls on Taeyang’s lips that are half-pressed to his neck, and the jolt that rushes down Seunghyun’s spine is probably visible. “He’s new, and I’ve been training him for the past couple months. He knows all about you.” The guilty thrill that pushes at Seunghyun’s gut makes him take in a breath, hand quickly reaching for his glass to pour some scotch down his throat. Taeyang’s voice is dripping the most sensual sorts of honey as his mouth moves from his customer’s neck to his ear, grinning all the while. Seunghyun keeps looking straight ahead, eyes locked onto where a large white sheet has been draped over the back of the stage from ceiling to floor. That wasn’t there before.
“How is he?” He mutters, watching as the DJ for the evening (GD, was it? It was hard to tell with him in normal clothing) motioned to a crew member, who dutifully switched on a light behind the sheet, lighting up the stage and outlining a strong, broad silhouette of a man standing behind the fabric. Oh. Oh.
Taeyang laughs, a low, husky thing that tingles Seunghyun’s skin and almost draws his attention from the still figure casting a shadow against the makeshift curtain. Somewhere off stage, GD presses a button and the low bass of a song comes on, fast-paced and unfamiliar, and he can just barely hear Taeyang’s next sentence as the figure behind the fabric shifts his weight pointedly from one foot to the other, movements giganticised with his shadow projected on such a large screen.
“I picked him out just for you.”
Before he can choke down the groan that follows, the boom of GD’s voice fills the speakers in the strip club - an introduction customary for new performers. The man behind the sheet tosses his hair and straightens his shoulders.
“Y’all like this man.
Yo, your boy GD and y’all know, V.I. ready to blow. (Victory)”
Seunghyun’s fingers tighten on his glass.
“His stage, his show.
His moves, his flow.”
Taeyang chuckles, moves his hand in closer to Seunghyun’s groin, which gives an obedient twitch of anticipation.
“Ain’t holding nothin’ back, just lettin’ it go- fa’ sho!”
The curtain drops, and for a moment Seunghyun can’t see, blinded by the light behind the shadowy figure of a man in a suit.
“Show ‘em what you got, bro.”
The light in the back goes off, the overheads snap on, and his veins are filled with the deep vibrations of the bass. The first thing he sees are the eyes of this new man that lock onto his own and make his heart stutter - rimmed with dark circles and blazing, determined and strong, and then his firm mouth moves over the words.
‘Hey, sexy.’
Seunghyun’s heart drops from his throat to his groin as Seungri begins walking forward to the center of the stage, steps commanding and strong and powerful that draw the attention of the entire room as he starts tugging at the black tie around his neck, all the while mouthing the words to a song Seunghyun’s never heard like he owns them.
‘Tonight, you know, I’m a strong baby’
He’s already marched to center, hair a sexed mess and a self-indulgant smirk on his face as he makes smoldering eye contact with the VIP seats, lingering for a moment when he reaches Seunghyun. Then those eyes are gone, closing briefly as he throws his tie to the ground, fingers stroking up the lapels of his suit coat.
‘Put on my jacket, and then~’
Let’s go.’
Seungri throws his coat to the ground with the tie, the fire of his conviction pulsing with the music as his right hand claims the pole, hips jerking from side to side in time with the beat as he tosses his head back, long neck exposed and absolutely edible. He looks lost in the beat for a moment before his posture snaps back to attention, eyes alive with an energy that already has Seunghyun on the edge of his chair when he continues to mouth the words. It takes a moment before it registers that he’s not just mouthing the words, he’s singing with them. Like it’s his song. It occurs only a moment later and with Taeyang’s verbal assurance in his ear that it is, and that has to be the single most arousing thing Seunghyun’s ever seen.
‘Hei geogi, baby, tell me what you want, say yeah’
Hand on the pole, Seungri drops down to his knees, quick and fast, grinning as his thighs spread across the floor and there’s bills already being thrown, covering the stage in front of him. His hips grind forward with impossible power, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.
‘Hei geogi, baby take me eoseo ppalli come to me’
Then he’s back up, moving with a precision and decisive power that Seunghyun is sucked into, despite it being so different from the way Taeyang seems to move like slow liquid. There’s no way Taeyang trained him - Seungri performs like his own man, unique in his movements that are so commanding they’re making Seunghyun feel like he wants to beg - beg like the men crowding the front of the stage, reaching out handfuls of won, one of which is rewarded when Seungri bends down and takes the bills between his teeth. He winks, circling around the pole before tucking the bills into the front of his pants and his hands move to the buttons of his shirt, hips rolling all the while.
‘You like it?’
Seunghyun’s brain screams out a ‘yes’, watching as the buttons peel away, one, two, tree, until he starts to see the bare chest underneath. Seungri stops once the shirt is halfway undone, drawing a groan of protest from the crowd until they’re silenced when he runs his hand from the partially exposed chest down to his groin, gripping with strength that looks almost painful. Teeth brush against his lower lip as he rolls his whole body into the palm of his hand as he tosses his hair back, and it’s hard to determine if the ecstasy on his face is real or not. He’s got the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand (presumably the one that’s not fitted around his clothed cock). More importantly, he’s got Seunghyun’s undivided attention, and the club’s top customer is already fingering the rest of the money stashed in his pocket.
‘Hei geogi, baby, tell me what you want, say yeah’
As if reading his mind, Seungri’s attention seems to divert sharply to lock onto Seunghyun’s chair. The ferocity of his gaze is hypnotizing, and he’s having difficulty figuring out which part of him to look at - the mouth moving with professional skill over the words of his song, the eyes that make his stomach churn with a mixture of lust and adrenaline, or the beautifully colored torso that’s becoming more and more visible as the buttons of his shirt are worked away until the white dress shirt falls open and oh - oh, that stomach.
‘Hei geogi, baby take me eoseo ppalli come to me’
Seungri’s hips are moving almost too quick to be sensual, snapping in their movements as he smooths his hands down the expanse of his exposed torso and finally pushes it completely off and to the ground, eyes deadlocked on Seunghyun. Nowhere near as broad as Taeyang, but almost equally muscled, body rippling with energy as he breaks the eye contact and makes his way back to the pole, grabbing it and dipping, grinding, turning on it, practically abusing the strip of metal for all it’s worth. There has to be a small fortune in won on the stage already, and it nearly doubles when he backs up against the pole, sliding and slamming - slamming - down into the splits. Seungri’s moving from the pole faster than Seunghyun can figure out if that stunt could have hurt more than the straining erection in his pants is, laying on his back and just fucking thrusting his hips into the air with an expression that makes him look like he’s going to come in his pants and god damn, Seunghyun might do just that if Seungri keeps going on like this. He can barely even feel Taeyang’s hand kneading at his inner thigh anymore.
Even on the ground, Seungri’s still singing along with the music. ‘Let’s party, baby, shake it, baby~’
Hips grinding in the air, Seungri’s completely lost in his own performance, and Seunghyun’s never wanted something so badly as this man writhing on the dirty floor of the stage. Seungri’s dancing is over-erotic and self-indulgent and harsh, and it’s so fast paced and rushed it’s almost amateur, but it’s impossible for him to look away.
‘V-I-C-T-O-R-Y’
Seungri gets back up to his knees, pressed flush up against the pole, hands up and in his own hair as he pulses up and down, hips and waist jerking and twitching and moving to a beat that’s too fast, too low in its bass. His eyes look to Seunghyun again, finding his eyes as he mouths the next words seemingly in slow motion.
‘Feel me, my baby (hot like fire)’
“Fuck.” Seunghyun groans and he can hear Taeyang’s chuckle being drowned out by the music, hand slipping up from his thigh to his groin, warm palm pressing into Seunghyun’s hard-on. He has to bite down on his lip hard enough to bruise to not moan out loud and look like the largest pervert in the entire club as he keeps his eyes focused on the spot-light stripper. Taeyang’s hand is relentless in its pressing and rubbing, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep himself from simply grabbing Seungri off the stage and taking him in the back room to do.. .well, he’d do something to him, even if his brain isn’t coherent enough to tell him what that something might be since it’s been established that he is not gay. Very “not-gay”.
‘Come a little closer (crack, crack, crack, crack)’
Before he can refocus on the performance at hand, Seungri’s already back up on his feet and against the pole, his belt out of his pants and hanging from between his teeth as his fingers toy with the button and zipper of his pants. He rocks back and forth, fingers popping the button out and dragging the metal down bit by agonizing bit until the black fabric of his boxer briefs is visible. With each beat accent, his hips push forward, to the sides, keeping complete rhythm as the slacks start to slide downward.
‘Yeah, just like that (crack, crack, crack, crack)’
The pants are around his sides, one covering his feet as he makes a pointed pause, looking up with burning eyes up from under his brow with the most devilish of smiles before the pants drop to the floor. The noise the crowd makes in response is almost loud enough to drown out the music.
‘You know how it is (crack, crack, crack, crack)’
Seungri steps out of the pants, kicking them carelessly behind, both hands grabbing the pole, hips thrusting up in rhythm as he slides downward. For the last time, his eyes meet Seunghyun’s, full of fire and demanding attention, and Seunghyun notes with a groan that Seungri’s cock hidden beneath his underwear is more than half hard, all from the passion of his own performance. He’s moving and grinding and thrusting with aggression, impossibly flexible as his legs spread out across the ground.
‘V.I., like this, bye ladies~”
He stops, suddenly, posture cocky and too sure of himself for Seunghyun’s normal tastes as he kisses two of his fingers and holds them out in a peace sign to the crowd. The lights drop to black and the rustle of Seungri collecting his earnings and clothes is drowned out by the inhuman amount of noise the crowd makes in applause and cheers and hollers. Seunghyun’s left gripping the edge of his seat, breath labored and face flushed, overcome with the rush of having watched the single most intense and phenomenal strip performance he’s ever seen. Taeyang pushes his hand lightly against Seunghyun’s groin again and smirks when he groans in response, leaning in to brush his lips against his ear.
“So, what did you think?”
It takes him a long minute to be able to collect enough sanity to respond.
“I.. I think.. I’m going to have to come back tomorrow and see that again.”
--end--
Rating: R
Pairing: TOP/Seungri, some TOP/Taeyang
Summary: ‘Hey, sexy.’ Seunghyun’s heart drops from his throat to his groin as Seungri begins walking forward to the center of the stage, steps commanding and strong and powerful that draw the attention of the entire room. [Strip Club!AU]
Notes: // Hey, guys! c: Thanks for reading - this is my first fic posted on livejournal (and, consequently, my first BigBang fic that I’ve actually finished)! I’m working on a couple others and collab-ing with my roommate (
goldintheshadow) on a couple others - expect more. More and smut. I have this fascination with writing smut.Hope you like it. <3 I actually really love TOPRi and want to write it all-the-time-homg-yes.
So you know, the inspiration was listening to Seungri’s Strong Baby (if that wasn’t obvious), and I realized while blasting it on my way to work that when GD introduces him in the beginning, it kind of sounded like an MC introducing a stripper. And then I had to write it. Hnngggseungri. I recommend listening to the song while reading - it makes more sense and the flow comes off better. Or maybe I’m just strange. //
* Gogaeknim (go-gaek-nim) - roughly “dear/endeared customer”, used when addressing familiar or distinguished customers.
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Seunghyun wouldn’t say he’s a regular - that would imply perversion, financial superfluidity, and an excess of time he certainly didn’t have. He’s not a regular, but he does come to the strip joint every Thursday and Saturday. Specifically, at 10:45, he gets in line, enters the club between 10:57 and 11:00 (greeted on a first name basis by most bouncers), manages to find his usual seat in the corner around the front stage at about 11:20 (later, if it’s been previously occupied). At around 11:25, one of the waiters will bring him his glass of scotch, he’ll pass them a tip, and proceed to relax with liquid aid until sometime around 11:40, when his favorite act graces the stage.
Definitely not a regular.
And an anonymous non-regular, at that. Any name given under this roof is not his own, some nickname or something off the top of his head, always changing. Nobody seems to mind - as long as he pays and tips as well as he does, Seunghyun’s allowed to stay as long as he wants with the establishment’s finest service.
Furthermore, on top of being a non-regular, he’s also most certainly not-gay.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
It was a dare, somewhere around three or four months ago, after a few shots and a few bad attempted pick up lines on some loose women with some friends at the bar. Whoever successfully acquired a potential date’s phone number first would get an all-expenses-paid trip, courtesy of the pooled amount of cash from the other four participants, to the nicest strip club in Seoul. The last to get a number, if at all, would take themselves on a trip to the nicest men’s strip club in Seoul. A receipt would have to be procured at the end of the night to prove that there had been at least three-drinks worth of time spent there.
Seunghyun had lost.
The first night, he’d arrived all too early, all too nervous, all too overdressed and already reeling with nausea and anxiety from over-reacting about seeing a few naked men parade their wares on stage. It was awful and wrong and made his gut churn when the first stripper had stepped onto stage, all golden skin and oiled muscles and pristinely manicured hair (Ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure, Taeyang!).
It was horrible.
It took two minutes of show before he had to rush to the bathroom and jack off.
Definitely not-gay.
He went back the next day. And the next. And the next, until the cash he had to withdraw to feel adequate about the money he was throwing at impossibly gorgeous men that he certainly didn’t want to shove down on his dick was eating rather unpleasantly at his savings. So he’d made a schedule sometime in his room around 2am, one hand around his cock and the other shakily holding a pen as he calculated out a bi-weekly club visit system with financial budgets, half-daydreaming about that golden man he’d seen the first night until he came against his pyjama pants and went to bed in a self-deprecating stupor.
Despite the near-overwhelming coma of guilt he suffocates through every time he crosses the threshold of this building of sin, he won’t stop. Can’t stop. Each one of these men draws him in like the most gullible of children to a proverbial candy shop - they don’t even have to try before his money is all on the stage or in alcohol form in his fist. It’s the principle, he thinks, that keeps him coming back. The men that exhibit a confidence of movement and body that he’s never been able to achieve, that move and grind and sweat like gods and make his toes curl under the table. And he, sitting here under his layers of fine clothing and silk, too body-conscious to show even the skin of his forearms, isn’t sure if he wants them or wants to be them. Regardless, every time they come on stage, the strain in his pants and his heart rate is evident, especially when it’s his personal favorite gracing the pole.
Taeyang’s taken a special interest in Seunghyun, having identified him as his most frequent and financially consistent viewer. He plays to him on stage, and sometimes, off stage when the rest of the evening’s spotlight is given to the fast and vulgar GD or the angelic Daesung (Literally - the bastard wears angel wings while on the pole. Certainly not Seunghyun’s preference, but the men on either side of him seem to get off on it, so). Such is one of those times now, at precisely 1AM, when Taeyang’s finished smearing sun kissed sex all over the stage and slides himself inconspicuously into the plush VIP chair next to his number one customer. Out of the corner of his eye, Seunghyun notes that he’s wearing a dress shirt and waistcoat today - a fancier style of clothing he started adorning once discovering Seunghyun’s preference for men with class (or, maybe it’s to simply fuel his denial about surrounding himself with otherwise dirty men). He’s calm until he feels the familiar heat of a hand against his thigh and a voice in his ear that pushes his heart into his jugular.
“Yah, gogaeknim*~” Taeyang purrs, mouth impossibly close to the shell of Seunghyun’s ear. “You didn’t tip very well today. I worked extra hard on my choreography for you, too.” He can hear more than see the pout on the stripper’s mouth, and has to suppress a crack in his voice as that hand plays with the inner seam of his pants. The glass of scotch is set down on the table and Seunghyun reaches into his pocket (and his hands are not shaking because he’s not gay, and that would be pathetic even if he was) to slip a folded and paperclipped sum of won into the hand touching at his thigh.
“I wanted to give it to you, personally.” Seunghyun manages to cough out, tugging slightly at the inside of his shirt collar. Was it hot in there? “Throwing too much money on the stage seems a little.. undistinguished.”
He mentally thanks Taeyang for taking the money without an argument and not pointing out that they are in a strip club, after all. The currency disappears somewhere in the folds of the clothes that reek of a dressing room full of cheap cologne, and Seunghyun finds himself idly wondering if he wanted to, if he could re-discover that currency under his clothes. Preferably with his teeth or something.
“Komapsumnida~” Comes the response, and all Seunghyun manages is a stiff nod as he clears his throat and tries to make some sort of conversation when that damn hand returns to his leg and he falters.
“A-ah, uh, I was wondering when the next act is on. Isn’t this taking a little long?” Again, another mental thank you to the stripper for not laughing at what is clearly an act to disguise both the need to see more skin-hips-abs, and the other sort of need that’s tenting his pants. He hears a breathy sigh and a chuckle, feels a warm body lean against his own and tickling breath against his neck. There were reasons he’d picked Taeyang as his favorite, and it wasn’t just for how well his body slid around the stage - the man was a tease, and some sort of masochistic strain in Seunghyun absolutely ate it up.
“Because there’s a special act coming up next, gogaeknim. I think... you’ll be very pleased.” A smirk curls on Taeyang’s lips that are half-pressed to his neck, and the jolt that rushes down Seunghyun’s spine is probably visible. “He’s new, and I’ve been training him for the past couple months. He knows all about you.” The guilty thrill that pushes at Seunghyun’s gut makes him take in a breath, hand quickly reaching for his glass to pour some scotch down his throat. Taeyang’s voice is dripping the most sensual sorts of honey as his mouth moves from his customer’s neck to his ear, grinning all the while. Seunghyun keeps looking straight ahead, eyes locked onto where a large white sheet has been draped over the back of the stage from ceiling to floor. That wasn’t there before.
“How is he?” He mutters, watching as the DJ for the evening (GD, was it? It was hard to tell with him in normal clothing) motioned to a crew member, who dutifully switched on a light behind the sheet, lighting up the stage and outlining a strong, broad silhouette of a man standing behind the fabric. Oh. Oh.
Taeyang laughs, a low, husky thing that tingles Seunghyun’s skin and almost draws his attention from the still figure casting a shadow against the makeshift curtain. Somewhere off stage, GD presses a button and the low bass of a song comes on, fast-paced and unfamiliar, and he can just barely hear Taeyang’s next sentence as the figure behind the fabric shifts his weight pointedly from one foot to the other, movements giganticised with his shadow projected on such a large screen.
“I picked him out just for you.”
Before he can choke down the groan that follows, the boom of GD’s voice fills the speakers in the strip club - an introduction customary for new performers. The man behind the sheet tosses his hair and straightens his shoulders.
“Y’all like this man.
Yo, your boy GD and y’all know, V.I. ready to blow. (Victory)”
Seunghyun’s fingers tighten on his glass.
“His stage, his show.
His moves, his flow.”
Taeyang chuckles, moves his hand in closer to Seunghyun’s groin, which gives an obedient twitch of anticipation.
“Ain’t holding nothin’ back, just lettin’ it go- fa’ sho!”
The curtain drops, and for a moment Seunghyun can’t see, blinded by the light behind the shadowy figure of a man in a suit.
“Show ‘em what you got, bro.”
The light in the back goes off, the overheads snap on, and his veins are filled with the deep vibrations of the bass. The first thing he sees are the eyes of this new man that lock onto his own and make his heart stutter - rimmed with dark circles and blazing, determined and strong, and then his firm mouth moves over the words.
‘Hey, sexy.’
Seunghyun’s heart drops from his throat to his groin as Seungri begins walking forward to the center of the stage, steps commanding and strong and powerful that draw the attention of the entire room as he starts tugging at the black tie around his neck, all the while mouthing the words to a song Seunghyun’s never heard like he owns them.
‘Tonight, you know, I’m a strong baby’
He’s already marched to center, hair a sexed mess and a self-indulgant smirk on his face as he makes smoldering eye contact with the VIP seats, lingering for a moment when he reaches Seunghyun. Then those eyes are gone, closing briefly as he throws his tie to the ground, fingers stroking up the lapels of his suit coat.
‘Put on my jacket, and then~’
Let’s go.’
Seungri throws his coat to the ground with the tie, the fire of his conviction pulsing with the music as his right hand claims the pole, hips jerking from side to side in time with the beat as he tosses his head back, long neck exposed and absolutely edible. He looks lost in the beat for a moment before his posture snaps back to attention, eyes alive with an energy that already has Seunghyun on the edge of his chair when he continues to mouth the words. It takes a moment before it registers that he’s not just mouthing the words, he’s singing with them. Like it’s his song. It occurs only a moment later and with Taeyang’s verbal assurance in his ear that it is, and that has to be the single most arousing thing Seunghyun’s ever seen.
‘Hei geogi, baby, tell me what you want, say yeah’
Hand on the pole, Seungri drops down to his knees, quick and fast, grinning as his thighs spread across the floor and there’s bills already being thrown, covering the stage in front of him. His hips grind forward with impossible power, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.
‘Hei geogi, baby take me eoseo ppalli come to me’
Then he’s back up, moving with a precision and decisive power that Seunghyun is sucked into, despite it being so different from the way Taeyang seems to move like slow liquid. There’s no way Taeyang trained him - Seungri performs like his own man, unique in his movements that are so commanding they’re making Seunghyun feel like he wants to beg - beg like the men crowding the front of the stage, reaching out handfuls of won, one of which is rewarded when Seungri bends down and takes the bills between his teeth. He winks, circling around the pole before tucking the bills into the front of his pants and his hands move to the buttons of his shirt, hips rolling all the while.
‘You like it?’
Seunghyun’s brain screams out a ‘yes’, watching as the buttons peel away, one, two, tree, until he starts to see the bare chest underneath. Seungri stops once the shirt is halfway undone, drawing a groan of protest from the crowd until they’re silenced when he runs his hand from the partially exposed chest down to his groin, gripping with strength that looks almost painful. Teeth brush against his lower lip as he rolls his whole body into the palm of his hand as he tosses his hair back, and it’s hard to determine if the ecstasy on his face is real or not. He’s got the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand (presumably the one that’s not fitted around his clothed cock). More importantly, he’s got Seunghyun’s undivided attention, and the club’s top customer is already fingering the rest of the money stashed in his pocket.
‘Hei geogi, baby, tell me what you want, say yeah’
As if reading his mind, Seungri’s attention seems to divert sharply to lock onto Seunghyun’s chair. The ferocity of his gaze is hypnotizing, and he’s having difficulty figuring out which part of him to look at - the mouth moving with professional skill over the words of his song, the eyes that make his stomach churn with a mixture of lust and adrenaline, or the beautifully colored torso that’s becoming more and more visible as the buttons of his shirt are worked away until the white dress shirt falls open and oh - oh, that stomach.
‘Hei geogi, baby take me eoseo ppalli come to me’
Seungri’s hips are moving almost too quick to be sensual, snapping in their movements as he smooths his hands down the expanse of his exposed torso and finally pushes it completely off and to the ground, eyes deadlocked on Seunghyun. Nowhere near as broad as Taeyang, but almost equally muscled, body rippling with energy as he breaks the eye contact and makes his way back to the pole, grabbing it and dipping, grinding, turning on it, practically abusing the strip of metal for all it’s worth. There has to be a small fortune in won on the stage already, and it nearly doubles when he backs up against the pole, sliding and slamming - slamming - down into the splits. Seungri’s moving from the pole faster than Seunghyun can figure out if that stunt could have hurt more than the straining erection in his pants is, laying on his back and just fucking thrusting his hips into the air with an expression that makes him look like he’s going to come in his pants and god damn, Seunghyun might do just that if Seungri keeps going on like this. He can barely even feel Taeyang’s hand kneading at his inner thigh anymore.
Even on the ground, Seungri’s still singing along with the music. ‘Let’s party, baby, shake it, baby~’
Hips grinding in the air, Seungri’s completely lost in his own performance, and Seunghyun’s never wanted something so badly as this man writhing on the dirty floor of the stage. Seungri’s dancing is over-erotic and self-indulgent and harsh, and it’s so fast paced and rushed it’s almost amateur, but it’s impossible for him to look away.
‘V-I-C-T-O-R-Y’
Seungri gets back up to his knees, pressed flush up against the pole, hands up and in his own hair as he pulses up and down, hips and waist jerking and twitching and moving to a beat that’s too fast, too low in its bass. His eyes look to Seunghyun again, finding his eyes as he mouths the next words seemingly in slow motion.
‘Feel me, my baby (hot like fire)’
“Fuck.” Seunghyun groans and he can hear Taeyang’s chuckle being drowned out by the music, hand slipping up from his thigh to his groin, warm palm pressing into Seunghyun’s hard-on. He has to bite down on his lip hard enough to bruise to not moan out loud and look like the largest pervert in the entire club as he keeps his eyes focused on the spot-light stripper. Taeyang’s hand is relentless in its pressing and rubbing, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep himself from simply grabbing Seungri off the stage and taking him in the back room to do.. .well, he’d do something to him, even if his brain isn’t coherent enough to tell him what that something might be since it’s been established that he is not gay. Very “not-gay”.
‘Come a little closer (crack, crack, crack, crack)’
Before he can refocus on the performance at hand, Seungri’s already back up on his feet and against the pole, his belt out of his pants and hanging from between his teeth as his fingers toy with the button and zipper of his pants. He rocks back and forth, fingers popping the button out and dragging the metal down bit by agonizing bit until the black fabric of his boxer briefs is visible. With each beat accent, his hips push forward, to the sides, keeping complete rhythm as the slacks start to slide downward.
‘Yeah, just like that (crack, crack, crack, crack)’
The pants are around his sides, one covering his feet as he makes a pointed pause, looking up with burning eyes up from under his brow with the most devilish of smiles before the pants drop to the floor. The noise the crowd makes in response is almost loud enough to drown out the music.
‘You know how it is (crack, crack, crack, crack)’
Seungri steps out of the pants, kicking them carelessly behind, both hands grabbing the pole, hips thrusting up in rhythm as he slides downward. For the last time, his eyes meet Seunghyun’s, full of fire and demanding attention, and Seunghyun notes with a groan that Seungri’s cock hidden beneath his underwear is more than half hard, all from the passion of his own performance. He’s moving and grinding and thrusting with aggression, impossibly flexible as his legs spread out across the ground.
‘V.I., like this, bye ladies~”
He stops, suddenly, posture cocky and too sure of himself for Seunghyun’s normal tastes as he kisses two of his fingers and holds them out in a peace sign to the crowd. The lights drop to black and the rustle of Seungri collecting his earnings and clothes is drowned out by the inhuman amount of noise the crowd makes in applause and cheers and hollers. Seunghyun’s left gripping the edge of his seat, breath labored and face flushed, overcome with the rush of having watched the single most intense and phenomenal strip performance he’s ever seen. Taeyang pushes his hand lightly against Seunghyun’s groin again and smirks when he groans in response, leaning in to brush his lips against his ear.
“So, what did you think?”
It takes him a long minute to be able to collect enough sanity to respond.
“I.. I think.. I’m going to have to come back tomorrow and see that again.”
--end--