Title: Red Eyes Suit So Few
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Seungri/CL
Length: 2428
Summary: Batman never really could get with Catwoman anyway 
Warnings: Drugs, ual situations (not too explicit), all that good stuff.
Notes: This turned out a loooot differently than I had intended. Heavily inspired by the songs You and Tequila, Wide Awake, Just Tonight, and The Harold Song. And 100 points for whoever knows where the title came from.

Remixee author: chanrae
Title of work you remixed: Prompt: Ri meets Catwoman during a masquerade party.
Link to work you remixed: N/A

The Cheshire shape of caught his eye first. Lip gloss clung to the rosy set that his eyes stayed glued to. He looked away when he felt the deep colored eyes flash his way. Sweat trickled down his back slow. Everything was hazy, the dim light of the club they were in for the night, the smoke drifting upwards from Jiyong and Seunghyun’s always lit cigarettes, the amber of the liquor that stung his throat as he drank, it was all a blur and fuzzy in his mind. His eyes never stayed on anything too long. The one thing that was focused, sharp, within the packed and suffocating place were her lips, and the light trill of her laugh, the hair that swept behind her back, the short manicured nails now holding a glass. She was too in focus while he was too out.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, the Batman suit he thought was perfect a month ago now hugged him too tight. Maybe Jiyong was right he wasn't meant to be Batman but Robin at least that's what he thought as he stood in the dark corner trying to get some air for himself.

Her eyes peered from behind the dark black mask, just as dark black eyes somehow gleaming even in the dim light, turned to him. The cat suit hugged her figure tightly, his eyes catching on the sharp hip bone sticking out. It was just as cutting as the eyes that pierced his for a split second. Break ups were brutal. Apparently faked friendships were worse.

He was sure if he stood close enough he would hear the crinkle of the leather as she moved. But he wouldn’t get too close being in the same room was already dangerous enough. He was usually the life of the party entertaining and flirting with all who looked his way but tonight he just couldn't. So he stood awkwardly to the side watching as the club whirled around him a mash of color and sweat and the sour sweetness of liquor. He tugged at the collar of his costume dodging a strangely looking Phantom of the Opera.

The mask appeared ghastly in the dim darkness the face behind the white porcelain appearing deformed on the side that showed. He shook his head, instantly revealing Jiyong’s perfect cheekbone. Maybe he had been staring too long or something in his eyes told Jiyong he needed air because a strong grip on his arm lead him toward the back. Jiyong didn’t say anything and Seungri didn’t ask why but suddenly a cigarette and a lighter were shoved into his hand as he was pushed past more masks of feathers, and jewels, and bobbles to hide behind.

His eyes glanced around the alley, a ty Wonder Woman gasped against the brick as a not so innocent clown pressed against her. His eyes skirted the scene as he walked in the opposite direction getting far enough away so he couldn’t hear anything. The club’s bass vibrated into his back as he leaned against the brick wall deftly bringing the cigarette to his lips. He’d somehow picked up the nasty habit from Seunghyun and Jiyong, perfect role models, the scoff that escaped his lips was full of irony. The smoke that now filled his lungs was a far cry from the fresh air he had been needing but it filled the craving that had started while he stood in the mix of bodies. Unconsciously his fingers twitched against the wall, nails digging into brick and pulling up a myriad of caked on dirt and grime.

The beat of the song coupled with the haze of smoke from the cigarette lulled him into a dream-like state. Suddenly the back door burst open, red strobe lights flickering out and making the smoke around him bleed red. He had to squint as the dark silhouette stepped forward; heels hit the litter stained street louder than the music that poured from the club. It was like the crack of a whip or the pounding of his heart he couldn’t tell the difference. The cigarette suddenly scorched his skin as it burned down to a stub; he flicked it away barely feeling the pain or sting in his finger tips. 

“…” he hissed out as he felt nails sink into his skin, his skin rising to show five perfect red marks along his back. His shirt was tossed haphazardly to the floor as a lithe frame pressed him back farther into the full length mirror. He was one for thrilling situations and in a dressing room certainly topped that list. He gripped slim hips leather covered hips. He had to admit Chaerin did make the perfect Catwoman deadly and agile and too cunning for her own good. The smirk alighting her face was also perfect for hunting prey. So far he didn’t mind being the prey, not with her slim little leg wrapping around his waist and her hands yanking desperately at his jeans. He fell back as he stepped on a fallen tinker bell skirt and heard a light laughter; he held the shaking Catwoman against him and found himself laughing too. Unable to stop himself he leaned forward and planted a not smooth or y kiss to her open laughing mouth. It might have very well be the worst kiss he had ever given or received.

It was probably because he lacked the ability to know when the “right moment” to kiss was or because he just wanted to kiss her laugh (even though he knew that was impossible). The motion only made him kiss her teeth leading her to double over in laughter once more. This time she rocked forward just as he was leaning to kiss her again at the wrong moment. The resounding crack of their foreheads hitting had him reeling back in pain his hand flying to his head and subsequently knocking over her bright red and gaudy Gucci purse. He could care less about the crash of makeup and god knows what else spilling from the deep recesses of the bag. His eyes were watering fast and he was trying so hard to bring the back but the moment was long gone as she hissed through her teeth in pain, all pleasure gone.

“You idiot” her perfect hand came and smacked him upside the head only making the headache now forming worse. She stood up from his lap still clutching her head and began reaching for her spilled purse contents. Seungri tried to repair the damage and get on her good side again by reaching to hand her objects. Mascara, phone, wallet…his fingers slipped around a small quarter sized packet filled with white powder. He barely had it in his hand before it was snatched away and placed back into the overflowing bag.

Their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds and he looked away first, he always did.

“Chaerin what is that?” He already knew what it was.

“Can you get out I need to change.” She was evasive her tone implying no more questions but like she had said he was an idiot.

“Chaerin don’t ing change the subject. What the hell was that? When did you start doing drugs?!” Keen dark eyes rolled in his direction as a scoff fell from thin lips.

“Idiot just forget about it okay? It’s not a big deal.” His look must have been enough for her to realize it wasn’t something he would forget. “Look I just use it every now and then to take off the edge. You smoke it’s the same thing.”

“Chaerin it is not the same thing.” His voice was low and whispered, hissed out like their pain before. “You’ve got to stop this. What if YG found out?! What if the media finds out!?” Her look was withering as she ripped off her cat suit and threw on her skinny’s and blackjack t-shirt.

His fingers itched for her. His skin craved her. Their fight had gone on long enough. With a pearl shaped cat ring tucked away into his pocket he slipped into her dorm. He had never been one for ignoring. But he had learned long ago Chaerin could go weeks without uttering a single word to him, caution while on her battleground meant learning to weave into her good graces again, and appeasing a cat woman was harder than he had thought and after a few deep scratches he’d learnt his lesson.

The smell of lavender drifted towards him leading him to her room. He didn’t care where the other girls were or that Dara didn’t greet him with a usual sly grin or that Minji didn’t jab him in the side on the way to Chaerin’s room. If they were out it was all the better for him. He didn’t knock, privacy was never a policy in any of his relationships romantic or not, he saw candles lit her light purple room, the flickering of the light etching fire into her skin as he watched her hunched over at her desk, a white powder slipping into her tiny tipped nose. He didn’t know if she registered him being there but by the way the bottle of wine fell from his hand and crashed to the floor he realized she must have now. Her eyes were unfocused and hazy as they widened and looked at his. Powder dusted the edge of her nose and she could see a faint trail of dried blood on one side.

“Chaerin what the hell!?” He reached for her wrist and turned her toward him. She gaped at him mouth slack as she tried to form words. And then she was pushing him back nails digging into his chest and mouth sharp on his neck. She was still lithe, still swift and self-assured, and it felt so good. She was touching him again and he was soaking it up. It didn’t take long for her to have his pants ped and around him, her cat-like tongue working magic and sending shivers throughout his body.

She had become as much a drug for him as the powder was for her. And as he glanced at her now he noticed the way the black was chipped off her nails, her manicure was uneven and old, the skin tight cat suit hugged an even skinnier frame than before, not really clinging to hips but falling against them baggy. Her eyes weren’t shimmering black anymore but a dull matt color. Her heels still reverberated in his mind and as she stood before him she was as much a hunter as ever.

But he knew what she was before, knew that she used to stalk and slink like the wild tigers, she was just as wild and fierce as they were. Here, now though, she looked like a caged tiger. Pacing back and forth and waiting for the moment to spring free. Tigers once wild but caged lived the saddest lives, for they knew what wild air tasted like. And she was just as trapped as they; her eyes spoke of the wild just as her body shook from her cage.

She stepped forward reaching for him, frail bony hand grabbing at his costume, and he was right, he heard the faint crinkle of leather against leather. His arms encircled her and she pressed against him her light tinkling laughter filling his ears and shaking against him. And laughter turned to sobs, as weak and soft as she felt in his arms, he could do nothing but her hair and coo gently at her. Just as quickly as she had come to him, she slipped away, fixing her mask and righting his. Her eyes were on his and then her lips were too. It was soft and faint and barely there but it was enough of a hit for him –it wasn’t enough– and she smiled then.

He was never good at timing so when he leaned forward and clanked lips against hers she wasn’t expecting it. She didn’t expect the desperate clutch to her waist either but neither did he. Nails dug into him again, so familiar, but so different. It was different and the same and everything he craved and everything he didn’t need any more. And he pulled away first, this time for the very first time. Her eyes had grown hazy and her lips slack, the red light pouring from the club danced off the black leather, off her eyes, they were as red as they had ever been and she was as feral as she would ever get. Addictions were funny things, sometimes one more hit was never enough and sometimes it was. He pulled her hands from his shirt giving her a look, it wasn’t one of pity, or sadness, or even love, he didn’t have anything left to give after being burned out.  He didn’t look back as he walked away and slipped back into the mess of covered bodies hiding behind masks.