make him purr

by lostyourtouch

Summary:

Schedules are packed and time is short, but they make the most of it. For some reason, Wooyoung seems to gravitate toward San way more than usual this month, his clingy nature cranked up to an extreme. As much as they both want to fling all responsibilites out the window to spend some quality time together, all they can do is wait for the promised three days off at the end of the month. Thing is, Wooyoung seems to be planning something.

It all starts with a familiar black cat plushie at the dawn of the month...

Notes:

i am back with more insane brain rot thank you very much

uhhh once again i got carried away. this was supposed to be a "short" (think 10-15k at most) pseudo-halloween fic that i was planning to release *around* halloween (as you can see, i missed this deadline by a bit) with wooyoung dressing up as a black cat to celebrate, but uhhh you're getting this instead! (this fic is 75% smut)

many thanks to em who gave me permission to write a scene inspired by one of her twitter posts (im not gonna say which one cause it wil spoil the whole thing 🤫), to red who let me brainstorm and yap about this fic in her dms, and of course, to luna who gave me the original brainrot of wooyoung in a full-on cat costume all those months ago. this is for u ❤️

honestly this fic is very self-indulgent lol i just wanted to write smut of domestic woosan. enjoy~

 

 

When San pushes open the door to his bathroom on October 1^st, he is greeted with a familiar black cat plushie standing on the glass shelf above his sink, in between his toothpaste and his makeup remover balm.

He would recognize Wooyonyang anywhere. It’s cute, black, with wide eyes, and a small red ribbon around its neck. Its head is way too big for such a small body, but that only makes it cuter.

San is surprised at first. He can’t keep his smile from growing, and he feels the remnants of sleep melt from his eyes. He starts brushing his teeth, maintaining eye contact with the small kitty perched on his shelf throughout the entire process.

Once his morning routine is done, San returns to his room. His phone is on the nightstand, and the black cat plushie is small enough that he can clench his fist around its body, its huge head poking over his thumb. He takes a picture of it and sends it to the person he suspects to be the culprit behind sneaking into his bathroom after he fell asleep.

Feeling his stomach revolt in hunger, San changes his sweatpants and puts on a baggy shirt before making it to the kitchen.

He hears the microwave beeping before he sees Seonghwa take his share of yesterday’s leftovers from within. Disappointed, San heads for the fridge with unenthusiastic steps. If there’s anyone cooking in this dorm, it’s Seonghwa, and he hasn’t had the time to do that lately because of their packed schedule. Wooyoung hasn’t had time for that either, so he can’t even sneak to his dorm down the hall and use his boyfriend privileges to get some freshly cooked food in his stomach.

Leftovers from yesterday’s takeout it is, then.

“Morning,” he tells Seonghwa, who narrows his eyes upon seeing him.

“You okay?”

San walks past him to shove his plate of cold food in the microwave. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Seonghwa doesn’t even try to hide the amused smile on his face. “You were out cold last night. How many shots did you manage this time?”

San frowns, trying to piece together last night’s events. They got together at Yunho and Yeosang’s dorm to celebrate their two free days of schedules before leaving for Bangkok, ordered food, and got shitfaced drunk. Well, San doesn’t remember what happened after his fourth soju glass. He’s certain he was holding a fifth one in his hand at some point, but the next thing he remembers is waking up in his bed this morning.

“Six? Maybe?”

“Definitely less than that. You would be hugging the toilet seat if that were the case.”

San drags a hand over his face and nods. He’s thankful he doesn’t have to battle a headache this time.

They eat in silence. Mingi seems to still be passed out, so they decide not to bother him yet. While Seonghwa finishes his share rather quickly and gets up to place his plate in his dishwasher, San is distracted by his phone.

 

[⛰️:]

[Photo attached.]

Is this your way of saying that you’re watching over me while drunk? Why not place it above the bed, where the liquor bottles used to be?

 

Emphasis on used to. He and Wooyoung maaaaaybe got a little too rowdy one night, so much that a bottle threatened to fall right on Wooyoung’s face. As a result, San now has a liquor cabinet in his room.

 

[🖤:]

i have no idea what you’re talking about~

[⛰️:]

so

you have no idea how this plushie magically appeared in my bathroom

even though you were the one who brought me back to my room after I passed out?

and it’s the one that happens to be your signature animal?

[🖤:]

wasn’t me~

[⛰️:]

you could have stayed for cuddles at least  😔

[🖤:]

i told you it wasn’t me! maybe there’s a black cat haunting you~ who knows~~

 

San scoffs and rolls his eyes despite Wooyoung not being there to see him. The smile on his face hurts his cheeks. He has no idea what game his boyfriend is playing right now, but it still brightens his mood.

“Eat,” Seonghwa chides him. “You can see Wooyoung after. Jesus, you act as if you weren’t all over each other last night.”

San doesn’t remember much—a hand on his thigh, another one wrapped around his middle, maybe some sneaky kisses on his neck here and there while everyone else was distracted. That way, they wouldn’t get booed again for being too touchy right under everyone’s noses.

He really wishes Wooyoung spent the night. He was too drunk for anything to progress past cuddles and lazy kissing, but he simply misses having Wooyoung next to him, his hot skin warming him up once they become a tangle of limbs.

 

[⛰️:]

i miss you.

[🖤:]

u saw me last night.

[⛰️:]

can i see you again tonight?

 

He already knows the answer, but trying never hurt anyone.

 

[🖤:]

as much as I would love that, both Hongjoong hyung and Jongho will skin us alive the morning after if we keep them up the night before a flight

[⛰️:]

or

…

we could just go to our place.

 

They have a studio apartment all to themselves on the floor below. That way, they can have privacy whenever they need it. San cringes as he recalls the negotiations they had to go through with the company for that, but hey, if it means getting his dick wet without having to worry about others hearing them, then yea, totally worth it.

 

[🖤:]

if you can disguise your walk of shame at the airport with all those cameras on you

sure… 🤨

[⛰️:]

young-ah 🥺

[🖤:]

don’t ‘young-ah’ me. youre not coaxing me into bottoming tonight 🙄 just wait until we get a break. ur dick’s too big to fall off until then ❤️‍🔥

 

San sighs and flips the phone with the screen facing the table surface. He expected as much, but he still wanted to shoot his shot. By the time he brings the fork to his mouth, he realizes the food has gone cold.

Utterly defeated, he heads for the microwave once again.

 

🐈‍⬛

 

“Did you see the Birthday music video?”

The air in Bangkok is warm and humid. The others chose to go out for walks or try out some restaurants they haven’t had the chance to go to before, but San decided to stay in. Even though the alcohol from two nights ago is supposedly fully out of his system, it usually takes him longer to boot back up. He doesn’t have any lingering headaches or muscle pains. Not even his stomach feels weird. He’s just… very low energy. Which isn’t exactly good, considering they have a show to perform tomorrow.

The members simply wished him well and told him to recharge his batteries before leaving. Wooyoung was supposed to go with Yunho and Mingi to try out some insanely spicy food nearby, but he clung to San’s back like a koala after he announced he would sit this one out and refused to let go until San swung open the door to his hotel room and closed it behind them.

Wooyoung shuffles on the bed behind him. “Sannie,” he asks in a quiet voice, “Did you fall asleep?”

“No,” San mumbles, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. He could really use a nap.

Wooyoung glues himself to San’s back and throws an arm over his chest, pulling him closer. “Did you watch the music video?” he asks again, burying his face into his boyfriend’s neck.

San hums, relishing in the affection and extra warmth that envelopes him. It’s already hot in the room, but he isn’t going to push Wooyoung away for any reason in the world.

“I did.”

“Liar. When?”

“Not a liar,” San replies, lightly smacking Wooyoung’s arm in the arm. “I watched it when you and the guys were looking over the restaurants list. You looked absolutely gorgeous, by the way.”

“Mm, did I?” Wooyoung asks, tracing San’s neck freckles with the tip of his nose. “What did you like the most?”

San sighs. He feels like melting. “Your hair. Your charisma. That skirt you wore.”

Wooyoung grins against his neck. It’s infectious enough to immediately spread to San’s face as well. “When we were filming, you were staring so much that I’m surprised you didn’t try to rip it off afterward.”

“It was pretty. And you were really glowing while wearing it. I wouldn’t even dream of ripping it off.”

Except he would.

With a chuckle, Wooyoung throws a leg over San’s middle before climbing over him. San simply allows his boyfriend to pin him down on the bed. When Wooyoung leans over, his beautiful long hair falls in his eyes.

“Do you want me to wear a skirt in bed again?” Wooyoung asks mischievously, dragging his palms on San’s chest. “We could do that. There is just… one little problem. I haven’t seen that skirt in years. I probably left it buried in a corner of my wardrobe at our old dorm.” He shudders. “Do you think the Xikers kids found it?”

San lets his palms rest over Wooyoung’s thighs. He remembers that skirt—white (he always wondered why Wooyoung chose that color in particular), with lace hems, and so short that San barely had to lift it to see the important parts. Needless to say that Wooyoung didn’t take it off until it was drenched in copious amounts of cum. Maybe that was why he had opted for a white one.

San licks his lips in anticipation. “I’m a big fan of a potential skirt comeback, but what do you think about getting a longer one this time? Like, knee-length maybe?”

“You want it to be longer? Like the one I had in the MV?” Wooyoung asks, pursing his lips in contemplation. His smirk returns as soon as he connects the dots. “You want to run your raccoon hands on my thighs and lift it up yourself, don’t you?”

“You’re the raccoon, not me,” San counters with a similar smirk.

“Nuh-uh. I rebranded. I’m a black cat now. Remember?”

With that, he leans down to slot his lips against San’s, who hums happily. He’s glad that Wooyoung stayed behind simply to spend time together, even though he didn’t have to do that. The novelty aspect of their relationship has dispersed over the years, so they aren’t as obsessed about spending every possible second in each other’s vicinity like they used to be five years ago, but the overwhelming amount of schedules and the lack of intimacy inevitably makes them seek each other’s warmth once they start missing it.

Lately, Wooyoung has been in high spirits. He seems genuinely at peace, his smile bright enough to rival even the sun, and once he gets in that mood, his happiness turns infectious. Their kisses are mere brushes of lips at first, interrupted by soft giggling—they act like teenagers kissing for the first time, despite their age and the longevity of their relationship.

But San simply cannot resist simply having Wooyoung on top of him with his back arched so beautifully. Slowly but deliberately, his palms move from Wooyoung’s thighs to his ass, and he wastes no time squeezing him through the sweatpants.

Wooyoung whines and bites San’s bottom lip in retaliation before pushing himself up. “See? Raccoon-like behavior. Told you.”

“How can I resist when you drape yourself over me like this?” San asks, his vocal tone considerably lower than before. “When that pretty and plump ass of yours that I love so much is within my reach?”

Wooyoung scoffs. A rosy shade of blush taints his cheeks. “I think your palms are just magnetized to my ass,” he says with a staggered breath as San angles his head to kiss over the bulging vein on his neck.

“That, they are.” To solidify this, San even gives Wooyoung’s right cheek—the one he loves to slap in tandem with his thrusts whenever he fucks into him from behind, the one Wooyoung begs to be spanked whenever he decides to act out—a particularly harsh squeeze.

He can pretty much feel Wooyoung melt into his arms. The little gaps he lets out as San drags his lips against his neck and squeezes his ass make him sound so cute. San wants to flip them over and kiss every inch of his boyfriend’s skin until they both reach paradise as they know it—a mess of tangled limbs and each other’s names glazed in ecstasy on their lips.

San pushes himself up to do just that, but Wooyoung plants his knees firmly into the mattress, straddling his waist. San still gets up in a sitting position, his plans thwarted by Wooyoung’s arms sliding around his neck, pulling his face close for another kiss, or so he thinks. Wooyoung considers he hasn’t reminded San in a while how much of a menace he can be, so he drags his tongue over San’s bottom lip before reconnecting their mouths.

Like this, it doesn’t take long for San’s hands to wander beneath Wooyoung’s shirt, tracing his spine and pulling him closer. The shirt goes flying shortly after, but San doesn’t get to enjoy the view because Wooyoung gives his chest a shove and pushes him against the headboard.

He looks up from Wooyoung’s sprawled palm on his chest and sees the grin tugging at the corners of his boyfriend’s mouth as he inches closer.

“You want to fuck me so badly,” Wooyoung muses, lifting the hem of San’s shirt to slide his palm under.

San watches him impassively. It would take a simple glance downward for Wooyoung to notice the growing bulge in San’s pants and call his bluff. “Why must you torture me so?”

“Am I, though?” Wooyoung asks, giving a squeeze to San’s pec, trying to prompt a reaction out of him, but San only strengthens his defiance.

“Well. You’re putting on such a nice show for me, but I can’t exactly flip you over and make you one with the mattress unless you don’t plan on dancing for tomorrow’s show. I think that would get us in trouble with the company way more than the soft reprimand from 2019.”

“And the even harsher reprimand from last year,” Wooyoung adds, his mood visibly souring a little when he remembers he’s at fault for both of those scoldings.

The first one wasn’t that bad—they were both drunk, the whole dorm deserted except for them, and they got the brilliant idea to turn on a surprise Vlive before the alcohol could even settle in their veins properly. However, Wooyoung couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and San didn’t realize how loud he was moaning until their very pissed off manager played the video back to them the day after. Wooyoung did end up cutting the live short so they could fuck, but that’s beside the point. It even serves as a funny story to be shared over drinks with trustworthy people, but it still stung.

Wooyoung’s eyes snap up when San takes his hand and runs a thumb over his knuckles.

“We have some days off at the end of the month,” San says. “I know that must feel so far away, but we’ll make the most out of it. Think we can break our record? What was it again?”

The hesitancy on Wooyoung’s face disappears as his skin tone becomes redder and redder. “I think five? More like four and a half.”

San chuckles. “Baby, a dry orgasm still counts as one. You looked absolutely angelic that night.”

“Did I really,” Wooyoung mocks him, though there’s a satisfied smile on his lips. “I felt as if I performed two back to back concerts.”

“You liked it.”

“I loved it. Now will you please take your cock out so I can blow you?”

San’s lips curl into a smirk. “Demanding. That’s cute. But I have a better idea.”

He grips Wooyoung by the waist, sliding their hips together. A small moan escapes his mouth when his own hardened length drags over San’s. They fit so well together, like perfectly molded puzzle pieces.

“Sannie,” his voice trails off, eager to shove his tongue in San’s mouth as he starts shamelessly grinding on top of him, “At least let me take my clothes off. Yours, too.”

San gives his ass a squeeze through the sweatpants as a warning. “No. I want to see how desperate you become just to get off.”

Wooyoung leans back, but he doesn’t stop grinding his hips. “What if I strip for you?” he tries to negotiate. “You’ll be dying to touch me before I’m even done.”

San licks his lips, hesitates. That does sound hot. But he’s also hard and not in the mood for Wooyoung’s edging expertise, so his palms remain firmly planted on Wooyoung’s waist.

“Next time,” he concedes. “Now focus.”

Wooyoung whines in the back of his throat as San pulls him by the nape for a kiss, but he obediently heeds the command. One of his hands cups San’s jaw, tilting his head up to angle their messy kissing, while the other rests on San’s pec innocently… for now.

San doesn’t have to do much because Wooyoung does all the work for him. He moves perfectly, like he’s re-enacting a choreography he’s performed countless times before. In a way, that’s true. Back when they didn’t have their own rooms or their shared studio apartment, they could only sneak into each other’s rooms when their respective roommates were out and get each other off in a rush. Sharing hotel rooms while touring or filming variety shows outside of Seoul was always a reason to celebrate for them before the company decided to give each member their own hotel rooms (as if that ever stopped Wooyoung from sneaking into San’s room after everyone was asleep, or the other way around).

Still, the prospects of being an idol imply a myriad of schedules that stress them out the more they pile up. They also have to perform a lot, even multiple times a week during comeback season, so, unfortunately for them, getting fucked into the mattress whenever they want just isn’t feasible, but that’s not going to stop them from using other methods to satiate their wants and needs.

Wooyoung sounds so pretty while grinding his own cock against San’s. Despite the layers of fabric between them, he’s giving his all to put on a show and do most of San’s work for him. San presses his nails into Wooyoung’s back deeper than he should, but he’s aware tomorrow’s outfits consist mostly of suits, so the crescent marks on his boyfriend’s back should vanish by the time he’ll have to show some skin.

Wooyoung pecks his lips with short kisses, teasing, licking San’s bottom lip before leaning in to capture it between his teeth and pull a moan out of him. He gasps against San’s mouth when he starts feeling the sharpness of those nails pressing into his skin, scratching him, punishing him for the kitten licks posing as kisses. But, just as Wooyoung decides to stop being a tease and finally dive in to deepen their make-out session, San tilts his chin up to mouth at his jaw, leaving wet kisses along the veins protruding on his neck.

Whenever they decide to have a night for themselves, they set a date, sometimes even weeks in advance, and discuss what they want to do. Since their schedules are tight and they barely get any windows of opportunities, they tend to make the most out of those nights. That’s why San proposed the end of the month—having three days off is a blessing they aren’t often bestowed with.

Their current situation was, obviously, not planned beforehand, but they still surrender to each other like it’s the most natural thing between them. San didn’t plan to make Wooyoung cum today, and he doubts the other man also considered it before following him into his room, but here they are—Wooyoung in his lap, moaning San’s name in a low voice as he holds onto his boyfriend’s shoulders so tightly that he’ll surely leave his own set of nail marks on the unblemished golden skin; and San, licking up and down Wooyoung’s neck as one of his hands slides under Wooyoung’s pants and briefs to fondle the soft skin of his ass that is so dear to him.

Wooyoung groans next to his ear. “Raccoon… Told you…”

San leans back from Wooyoung’s wet neck to take in the consequences of their actions. Hooded brown eyes peer back into his, hazy and lustful. Wooyoung’s mouth is slightly open, small gaps leaving his lips as he continues grinding his hips with determination.

San licks his lips and feels his cheeks burning. He hasn’t been responding to Wooyoung’s movements until now, so his orgasm still felt rather distant, but seeing Wooyoung so pliant, so ready to give, shoots a wave of ecstasy straight to where it matters most. He can’t stop himself from panting in tandem with the rhythm of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, cupping Wooyoung through the damp fabric.

Wooyoung inhales sharply through his teeth at the touch. His hips falter for a moment, but he’s not one to give up quickly. He resumes his pace in no time, nudging his cock into San’s palm through the fabric. “Yeah.”

 “I can see that.” San smirks when Wooyoung tries to kiss him, but the only thing he achieves is gasping against his mouth. “Want to get off on my thigh?”

There is no hesitation. With a small hum, Wooyoung repositions, slotting a leg between San’s. He wastes no time and begins dragging his cock on San’s muscular thigh, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough for him.

“Sannie, let me take our clothes off,” he begs in the whiny and adorable manner he has mastered throughout the years. His voice, in combination with his wide and pleading eyes, make San fold in an instant. As much as he would love to have Wooyoung cum in his pants and make a mess, what he wants even more than that is to see him drag his wet and leaking cock against his thigh like a very horny snail.

“Go ahead.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widen. He probably didn’t expect San to agree so quickly, hell, he probably doubted San would even entertain the idea, but he’s not going to question it, lest the other man changes his mind. He almost falls off the bed when he throws his remaining clothes on the floor, prompting a genuine laugh out of San, but Wooyoung only glares at him before reaching to take off his boyfriend’s own share of clothes.

“Comfy?” San asks when Wooyoung returns to his original position.

“Not really,” Wooyoung replies with a swipe of his tongue over his top lip. He glances down and asks, “Can I fuck your thighs?”

San frowns, but deep down, he’s amused. He still very much wants to see Wooyoung spill over his thigh, and it’s not like they preemptively brought in a towel so they wouldn’t dirty the sheets. “Don’t push it.”

Wooyoung concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine.” He reaches for San’s cock and presses his thumb into the slit, watching fresh precum drip down before smearing it all over his shaft. “Then let me do this.”

San sends him a warning look. “Now why would you need to do that if you’re gonna get off on my thigh?”

“Why, indeed?” Wooyoung replies with a smirk as he repositions once again. His knees cage San’s thighs, and his dick is sitting up red and proudly next to San’s. There’s a sly grin on his face, one that San recognizes as the tell-tale sign of disobedience.

Wooyoung is about to take the reins straight from his hands.

San’s words die on his tongue the moment those long, knobby fingers wrap around his cock and slide tentatively from the tip toward the base. His eyelids flutter close and he feels his shoulders slump against the headboard. The lack of intimacy over the past few weeks has made him more prone to melting the moment Wooyoung’s expert fingers touch him, putting to good use the knowledge he has gathered over the years.

“Wooyoung.” San tries to sound demanding, but he comes out as slightly frustrated, which he is. “I thought we agreed on something.”

“Did we? I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”

With a chuckle, Wooyoung presses his thumb into the slit once again, dragging the tip of his finger slowly and deliberately the way he knows it will turn San into a mumbling mess. He looms over San and tips his chin up with one finger. “If you want me to obey you, make me,” he says slowly, dragging every word to let the heaviness of his words simmer in San’s mind.

The sigh leaving San’s mouth tells him everything he needs to know. Wooyoung seals their lips together with a victorious grin.

That’s all it takes for them to reach their little piece of heaven. San wishes they could have just a little time to themselves every time they needed it, but the stars don’t seem to align too often for that to happen. Even if there’s a convenient gap in their schedules, or if their respective dorms are vacant for the time being, sometimes they’re too tired to do anything and just fall asleep in each other’s arms. Not like that’s a bad thing—they feel the most comfortable when they snuggle in each other’s spaces, with Wooyoung’s head buried in San’s chest while San has both arms wrapped around him protectively. Unfortunately, even if they have time and privacy for sex, the lack of energy ruins their intentions more often than they like.

This is somewhat affecting them even now. Last few days have been hectic, resulting in San not clocking in his required hours of sleep, so he’s not that energetic. That’s why he wanted to let Wooyoung do most of the work upon seeing the genuine excitement on his face. And that’s why he can’t bring himself to put him in his place now.

Wooyoung’s mouth is warm and inviting. Kissing him always puts San at ease and warms his heart. Some part of him wishes he could do it every time the thought crosses his mind, even in public, but he can only do that in his dreams. In reality, he has to hold back and keep his hands from wandering too far, hoping that his eyes won’t betray his true thoughts every time he glances over at the person who cradles his heart like it’s the most precious treasure in the world.

When Wooyoung pulls back with a slightly surprised look, San knows his eyes are betraying him once again, like they always do when he looks at his soulmate. Fortunately for him, only Wooyoung’s face falters; his hand is still sliding up and down San’s cock, fingers pressing at the right spots he has memorized over the years, expertly drawing out more precum and pretty sounds from him.

San remembers his lack of energy doesn’t absolve him from paying Wooyoung back for his efforts, but when he reaches for Wooyoung’s cock, his hand gets shoved away.

“Let me,” Wooyoung whispers against his mouth as he once again invades his space to kiss him lazily. His soft lips are like velvet against San’s, and when he wraps a hand around both San’s and his own cock, he muffles the involuntary moan that comes out of his boyfriend’s mouth with his tongue.

San doesn’t know which one is more skilled—Wooyoung’s hands or his tongue, but he’s in no proper state of mind to make a logical comparison right now. Unconsciously, his hand travels back to Wooyoung’s thigh, and he finds himself kneading at the soft skin of his ass in no time.

“Raccoon,” Wooyoung chides to further prove his point before ducking his head lower to nip at San’s jaw.

San lets him. They both know they can’t leave marks, at least not where others can see, and especially not with a comeback right around the corner, so San welcomes the bare scrape of teeth, even offers the wide expanse of his neck for Wooyoung to trace with his lips and tongue.

Oh, how we missed this.

San’s other hand travels from Wooyoung’s spine to his hair, which is so long that he can’t easily scratch his nape or give him those massages meant to alleviate his headaches without brushing the long strands out of the way, but Wooyoung looks incredibly pretty like this. His hair has never been this long and, much to San’s satisfaction, Wooyoung said he doesn’t plan on cutting it anytime soon.

His fingers end up tangled in Wooyoung’s soft long hair, scratching lightly at the scalp, earning pleased sounds from him. It’s getting increasingly hard for San to hold back from spilling into Wooyoung’s fist, but he wants to rejoice in this bliss for as long as he can.

Maybe Wooyoung can really read his thoughts at times, or maybe he simply noticed San’s slumped posture. He looks up, cheeks red and eyes just as heavy as San’s. Breathless, he asks, “Close?”

San can only nod. Wooyoung kisses the tip of his nose, gently and slowly, in direct contrast to how ruthlessly he’s fisting both their cocks to tip them over the edge. San loses first, spilling all over his stomach and Wooyoung’s fingers. Once his whimpers signal that he’s on the border of overstimulation, Wooyoung abandons his cock to focus on his own. San pets his hair as he comes and traces the outline of his spine once he slumps over him, breathing heavily.

They share one more kiss before Wooyoung heads to the bathroom. He’s gone for a couple minutes before he returns with a towel and wordlessly cleans up San, who is watching him under eyelids that are getting heavier by the second. When they lock eyes, Wooyoung’s smile seems to make the room brighter.

“You’re really tired, aren’t you?” he asks.

“I could sleep for three days straight.”

Wooyoung nods with a chuckle. “We have a show tomorrow, so you’d better not.”

They get dressed in loose clothes and crawl back into bed. San falls asleep the moment he wraps his arms around Wooyoung, who lets his head rest on San’s chest.

 

🐈‍⬛

 

“Sannie, wait.”

San halts right in front of his hotel room door. One of their managers glances back to see why Wooyoung isn’t following him anymore, but when he spots him next to San, he quickly turns on his heels and pretends to admire the wallpaper. San feels the corners of his mouth curl upward. He always appreciates their managers for giving them the privacy they need, even when they have to follow them around as a safety measure.

He turns his attention back to Wooyoung. “What’s up?”

“Can I have your key card?”

Sometimes, Wooyoung is very blunt with what he wants. Thankfully, San is not one to argue with his boyfriend’s wishes.

He fishes the card from his pocket and unlocks the door, pushing it slightly open. Wooyoung extends a hand, but before San can hand over the card, he arches a questioning eyebrow. Their performance was flawless. San didn’t have the time to browse through social media yet, but he’s sure the fans loved it. They’re flying back to Seoul tomorrow, so he wonders what the connotations of Wooyoung’s request truly are.

Wooyoung scoffs. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I don’t plan on doing anything, I just…” He shuffles on his feet, avoiding eye contact. “Want to spend some time with you.”

San swallows. He doesn’t have time to ask for clarification. Even though the company booked the entire floor of the hotel, someone might still follow them around to satisfy their morbid curiosity about what they do in their free time, and it’s already very suspicious that Wooyoung stopped in front of his room like this.

Carefully, San hands over the card and watches it disappear under Wooyoung’s sleeve before stepping inside his room.

For the next couple of hours, San wipes the remaining makeup off his face, showers, briefly chats with the fans on the group’s official app, and scrolls through Twitter on his burner account to gauge reactions from today’s show. They are all positive, just like he assumed they would be, with countless edits and videos floating around, complimenting their looks and dancing skills. He checks out some Wooyoung-biased accounts and takes in all the praise for his boyfriend, the urge to smile almost impossible to resist. He sends some of them to Wooyoung, ignoring the handful of comments wrongfully saying he should cut his hair already because they don’t like how he looks with it. Wooyoung has made it clear both to his fans and to the people around him that he likes his hair long and will continue growing it out until he gets bored of it, so these comments are plainly disrespectful to his wishes. They aren’t new, so San doesn’t even spare them a second of his attention.

The more he scrolls, the heavier his eyelids become. Placing his phone on the nightstand, he gets up to change from his bathrobe into some sweatpants and a tank top before collapsing back into bed. He leaves the lamp next to his bed on for Wooyoung once he eventually decides to join him, casting the room in a warm orange light and beckoning San to slip into unconsciousness.

Time passes. He doesn’t know for how long he was asleep until he hears the door unlock and Wooyoung announcing in a small voice that it’s him as he slips inside. When the bed dips next to him, San rolls around to face Wooyoung and spreads his arms wide open, welcoming him.

With a soft chuckle, Wooyoung plops on the mattress, right into his boyfriend’s arms, his hair tickling San’s face, but that doesn’t stop San from burrowing his nose into the freshly showered black strands. Fragrances of vanilla and papaya invade his senses as he breathes in Wooyoung’s scent in hopes of having it linger in his lungs for as long as possible.

“Hey!” Wooyoung calls out from his arms, playfully swatting at his chest. “Stop wiping your nose on my hair!”

San feels a challenge brewing. “Yeah? Stop me then.”

And that’s when Wooyoung’s tackling turns serious. They become a tangle of limbs and sheets as they wrestle each other on the bed, their giggles resonating loudly and boisterously in the room. For a brief moment, San considers letting Wooyoung win, but he yearns for the feeling of his boyfriend pinned beneath him, looking up at him with stars in his eyes, so he ends up doing just that.

After less than a minute of their play fighting, San ends up looming above Wooyoung, pinning his wrists above his head with a single hand. They’re both breathless, but the grins on their faces mirror each other.

San leans closer. “You lost,” he whispers.

Wooyoung makes a hmph sound, his smile growing. “Did I really?”

Turns out they both got what they wanted.

San returns the widening grin. The tussle messed up Wooyoung’s hair and it’s all over his eyes, so San reaches out with his free hand to brush it aside, planting his knees firmly into the mattress on both sides of Wooyoung’s waist so as to not lose his balance.

What Wooyoung says next makes his movements freeze.

“You think I should cut my hair?”

San is taken aback. The playful atmosphere is suddenly gone, replaced by a certain uneasiness. He measures the emotions behind Wooyoung’s eyes and detects the usual sadness and resignation that comes from overthinking. They’ve had years of insults thrown at them from entitled people, insults that were way worse than what’s currently bothering him. As much as they’ve steadied their hearts against such comments over the years, Wooyoung has always been among the most vulnerable members, especially when it comes to his appearance.

So he saw those comments anyway. San didn’t get to check if Wooyoung replied to the posts he sent his way, but his boyfriend is nosy, so he would have found those hate comments anyway.

San’s eyes soften. There’s a little bit of anger welling deep inside of him, targeted at the people who brought down Wooyoung’s mood for the night, but he’s not going to let those emotions see the light of day. Not when the love of his life needs the exact opposite from him, and being angry at random internet usernames won’t solve anything.

San rubs the tip of his nose against Wooyoung’s, leaning back once he prompts a light chuckle from the other man. He wants to see eye to eye without having to go cross-eyed. “I think you should do what your heart tells you, not anyone else.”

Wooyoung blinks at him, his sadness slowly dispersing. “And what does my beloved heart tell me?”

 Blush takes over San’s cheeks in the blink of an eye. Fuck, that was smooth. “I always tell you the same thing—that you’re the most handsome person in my eyes. Whatever decision you end up making, choose the outcome that makes you happy. That’s all I want—for you to be happy.”

A quick peck on the lips marks the end of his declaration. When he reopens his eyes, Wooyoung’s eyes crinkle at the edges from how hard he’s smiling.

“I think I’ll keep it for a little while longer,” he says. “I like it a lot. And it’s gonna get cold soon, so I don’t have to worry anymore about sweating my ass off because of the summer heat.”

San gives his wrists a squeeze. “Good.” When their lips meet, their smiles do, too.

They get lost in lazy kisses for a while, only interrupted by soft giggles and pleased hums that they cannot keep caged. San’s grip on Wooyoung’s wrists eventually loosens up, and it’s not like he doesn’t care that Wooyoung might use that to his advantage and flip them over to take control, it’s just that he doesn’t think his boyfriend will even consider doing that. He doesn’t have those blazing flames in his eyes that are the telltale sign of pushing San onto the bed and taking him on a trip to heaven and back, so San thinks he doesn’t have to be so strict tonight.

Regretfully, he leans away from Wooyoung’s mouth, still feeling the shadow of his boyfriend’s lips over his own. He’s been wanting to take a closer look at what the other man is wearing since he walked in, but he didn’t get a proper chance until now.

The blouse Wooyoung is wearing is white and half see-through. It somewhat resembles a sexy nightgown, but it only hugs his torso. It gracefully frames Wooyoung’s body, in direct contrast to his sturdy shoulders and worked muscles, the result of his hard work at the gym in recent months. San runs a hand over the small buttons, the material of the blouse soft and flimsy under his touch. He wants to take it off so badly.

“Did you buy this recently?”

Wooyoung’s smile is still on his lips as he eyes his boyfriend with interest. “Do you like it?”

San looks up as he traces the outline of a button with the tip of his finger. “What do you think?”

“Try not to rip it, babe. I like it a lot.” Wooyoung swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does so.

That’s all San needs to hear. “Wouldn’t dream of ripping something you like so much.”

He keeps his gaze trained on Wooyoung’s face because he wants to take in the soft pleading in his eyes, the slight blush powdering his cheeks, and the way his breath staggers as San circles the buttons of his blouse. Slowly and without looking down, San pops the buttons one by one with one hand, relishing in Wooyoung’s slight squirms as he tries to shake off his intense gaze.

“Eyes up, angel,” San tells him, feeling his cock spring to life when Wooyoung’s eyes snap back at him with that deer-in-the-headlights glint in them.

“You look like you want to eat me.”

“And what if I do?”

Wooyoung’s Adam’s apple bobs once again. “Then you’d better get on with it.”

San pops another button, the third one, pushing his hand over the newly revealed expanse of skin. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“You don’t? Wanna bet you’re already half hard just from this?”

San’s gaze grows heavier, but he doesn’t say anything. There’s only two more buttons left but, as much as he wants to shift his eyes lower, he maintains steady eye contact with Wooyoung. Unfortunately, the other doesn’t seem intimidated.

Probably because he knows he’s right. Without any prior notice, he slots a knee between San’s legs, rubbing at his erection through the cloth.

San puts an end to it by planting his hips on top of Wooyoung’s. His bulge is poking through his sweatpants, but there’s no point in hiding it anymore. His cheeks are burning, but what Wooyoung just did only further fuels the lust burning deep inside him.

“Can’t use your hands, so you resort to groping me with your knee. And you call me a raccoon.”

“Black cat,” Wooyoung corrects him. “Told you I rebranded.”

“Are you gonna purr?”

Wooyoung blinks, taken by surprise. He scoffs. “If you make me, sure.”

That pretty much seals the deal. With the final button popped, San lets go of Wooyoung’s wrists and pushes the fabric apart, running both palms over his boyfriend’s chest. He can feel his mouth watering. Without dwelling, he lets his lips trace Wooyoung’s collarbone, kissing from left to right before moving lower to mouth at the soft skin of his pec. Wooyoung’s pecs aren’t meaty like his own, they’re firm but well-defined nonetheless, and San loves to press kisses in the ridge between them. He teases with his teeth around the small, perked up nipples, but he never bites, only flicks his tongue in the way he knows it makes Wooyoung instinctively arch his back and buckle his hips.

Wooyoung, like clockwork, reacts just like that, with small gasps in between San’s kisses. His hand is in San’s hair, petting gently, grip tightening only when San moves even lower to mouth at his rib tattoo, tracing the words with his lips. The grip in his hair becomes possessive as it always does when San pays extra attention to his boyfriend’s tattoos. Being able to kiss around the marked skin gives San a sense of power, and Wooyoung a taste of what it feels to be worshiped, because no one else can revere the ink on the skin while also fully grasping the meaning and intentions behind it.

It’s not only the tattoos that are permanent, but so is their love, as they convened several years ago. That was why they decided to get matching ones after Wooyoung saw how much attention San paid to the ink on his rib, despite claiming he didn’t want one for himself unless it was something that meant to him as much as Wooyoung did. And, well, they now have the marks on their thighs to symbolize their never-ending love.

San looks up, noticing the blush spreading from Wooyoung’s face all the way down to his chest. Wooyoung is not looking at him, he’s looking at the ceiling, his mouth opening and closing with every gasp. His neck looks so inviting that San wants nothing more than to abandon his inhibitions and lunge at it, feeling his teeth sharpen just at the thought of doing something so reckless. But he can’t, not for at least a month and a half, not until their comeback schedules are all done.

To take out his frustration, he slithers a hand down and cups Wooyoung through his shorts—San only now notices just how much skin they reveal—and Wooyoung wastes no time grinding his hardened cock against the heel of his palm.

“Mm, Sannie,” Wooyoung pleads; the way he drags San’s name like it’s a sinful prayer makes his skin flush with warmth. “Want you.”

“You do? How?” San asks, pushing himself up with one hand. For a moment, he gets lost in Wooyoung’s hazy eyes.

“Choking on my cock,” replies Wooyoung, his response more of an exhale than a whisper.

“Really?” San insists as if he doesn’t believe him. He continues palming Wooyoung through the material of his shorts, feeling the fabric dampen under his touch. “Too bad I didn’t like your attitude from earlier. You might need to convince me that you truly deserve what you’re asking for.”

“Sannie,” Wooyoung pleads again, but this time, it sounds almost broken, like he’s drowning and desperately begging for someone to throw him a lifejacket. San stops moving his hand, the defiance on his face melting for a second, but he picks the pace back up, and his expression softens immediately. Whether Wooyoung is tired after the show or the comments about his hair got to him and unlocked a deeper, older insecurity, it seems that he needs San to momentarily abandon the push-and-pull game that they often indulge in.

Of course, San understands. He makes it obvious in his warm smile, and in the way his lips slot against Wooyoung’s as if they were made to kiss him and only him. San’s hand moves from in between Wooyoung’s legs to tug his shorts down, not surprised at all when he doesn’t feel the extra layer of underwear beneath.

Despite the noises of protest from his beloved, San abandons the kisses and repositions himself lower. He grips the hem of Wooyoung’s shorts on one side, revealing the base of his cock, but as he lowers himself, he gets an idea. He sinks his teeth into the hem of the shorts on the other side and pulls them down using both his teeth and his hand, all the way to the ankles before discarding them on the floor.

Wooyoung watches him intently, his chest heaving. There’s gratitude and relief in his eyes when San settles between his legs, locking eyes with him as he nips at the soft skin on the inner thigh. He mouths and licks at the area he wants to mark before finally allowing himself to bite. It’s very high up Wooyoung’s thigh, right next to the juncture where the thigh meets the hip, so the bruise can only be seen if Wooyoung is naked, a privilege that only San has.

He digs his fingers into Wooyoung’s other thigh as he etches more hickeys next to the first one, watching the skin redden after he’s done with it. Soon enough, he has no choice but to move to the other thigh because the bouquet of bruises is getting dangerously low to the threshold of skin covered by Wooyoung’s boxers. Not that Wooyoung has ever flashed his underwear on camera before (yes he has, the Deja Vu music video), but San doesn’t want to take a single risk when it comes to their careers—and their lives, to an extent.

Wooyoung’s hand finds San’s head, scratching his scalp lightly as he lets the other man gnaw at the sensitive skin. San briefly looks up, surprised that Wooyoung isn’t telling him to hurry up, or making his impatience heard in the form of whines. No, he seems at peace with how San is slowly pulling him into a pool of desire, enticing him with sharp kisses and firm fingers pressing into his skin.

Before San settled between Wooyoung’s legs, he left him with a pillow under his head, but that’s not good enough for Wooyoung, since he’s trying to keep his head lifted to watch him. That can’t be comfortable for his neck.

San soothes the last fresh hickeys with his tongue before pushing himself up on his palms and meeting Wooyoung’s hazy gaze. “Wanna watch me?” he asks.

The answer comes off a bit breathless thanks to Wooyoung’s eagerness. “Of course.”

Without another word, San clutches the other pillow on the bed and places it against the headboard underneath the one under Wooyoung’s head, helping him lean back comfortably.

“Good?” San asks, tracing his fingers over Wooyoung’s nape.

“So good. Now can you please blow me already?”

“Always so impatient,” San replies with a chuckle.

After resettling between Wooyoung’s legs, where he belongs for the night, San’s first thoughts still push him to tease his lover, to keep him on the edge for what feels like hours on end until Wooyoung can only blabber his name and beg for mercy, but he quickly shoves those thoughts away and focuses on the task at hand. Their flight is early in the morning, so they can’t afford to drag things out tonight.

Wooyoung’s cock is lying against his stomach, veiny, thick, red at the tip, precum glistening around the head and over his toned abdomen. San feels his mouth water at the sight, but he can’t quite recall when was the last time he gave a blowjob. Sure, he’s had Wooyoung on his knees in front of him for the past few months more times than he can count, and he’s had his tongue up Wooyoung’s ass until the other man was reinventing the Korean language with his babbling, but those are completely different things.

For a brief couple of seconds, he just sits there, watching, but he quickly gets to it, not wanting to make Wooyoung more anxious than he already is. They don’t usually resort to sex to blow off steam, but they do seek each other out whenever one of them feels down and, more often than not, one thing leads to another, and… well. Here he is, his breath ghosting over a very hard cock.

He starts off slow, gripping the base of Wooyoung’s shaft to bring it in an upright position. He dips his tongue into the slit, feeling the slight shiver in Wooyoung’s left thigh, where his other hand is resting. They’re looking at each other, San with that hooded domineering gaze that he has trained over the years, while Wooyoung seems lost in a reverie already, his cheeks flushed bright pink and his eyes slightly glassy.

San keeps swirling his tongue around the cockhead, mouthing hungrily at the vaguely salty precum that he draws out, a sign that he’s doing well, that he hasn’t forgotten his craft. Wooyoung spurs him on as he gently combs through his hair, letting out staggered gasps every time San presses his tongue in the right places. His hand has been pumping Wooyoung steadily since he put his mouth to work and, after laying a gentle kiss on the tip, San relaxes his jaw and sinks.

It’s been a while, so he has to take it easy if he doesn’t want to choke and add even more spit to the already existing mess coating Wooyoung’s shaft but, thankfully, Wooyoung doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. His gasps turn into whines, quiet at first, but picking up in intensity and pitch the more San takes him in.

Despite the lack of recent practice, San finds himself easily falling back into routine. After all, it’s all muscle memory to him. As he keeps taking more and more of Wooyoung’s cock into his mouth, he recalls all the little things he used to do, like dragging his tongue on the underside of the shaft, or tracing the veins with his fingertips where he can’t reach with his mouth yet. He’s pressing a bit too hard into Wooyoung’s thigh with his other hand, so he needs to remind himself to chill out because neither of them can afford to go through another scolding from the managers if their stylists decide to give them ripped jeans or shorts (or even skirts, given Wooyoung’s recent outfits).

The world seems to blur around San as he keeps going, keeps taking more of Wooyoung into his mouth, feeling the tip of the shaft poking at the back of his throat when his nose finally bumps into the skin under Wooyoung’s navel. His boyfriend squirms beneath him, and his moans sound so serene that they would put a choir of angels to shame. It even makes San rub his thighs together, suddenly remembering how tight his own cock feels in his underwear, trapped and leaking, begging to be set free. But he doesn’t want to reach out and touch himself, not until he has Wooyoung spill into his mouth.

The gentle petting of his hair suddenly turns harsh, signaling him to slip off. San does, though his breathing comes out ragged as he no longer has to breathe through his nose. He’s still holding Wooyoung’s cock by the base to keep it up, and he can see a string of saliva connecting his lips to the tip.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a hint of worry, though he’s also surprised at how groggy his voice sounds. He shouldn’t be; his voice tends to sound even worse when he has his mouth fucked into, but still.

Wooyoung shushes him, once again combing his fingers through San’s hair in a gentle manner like before. “You were going too fast. This isn’t a race, you know?”

Weakly, San nods. He presses a kiss next to the tip and says, “Sorry. I got carried away.”

Another shiver travels throughout Wooyoung’s body. “You can apologize by making me cum without trying to set a new world record,” he says, pushing down on San’s head as soon as his lips are back to enveloping the cockhead.

San obeys. This time, he goes slower, as instructed, but not slow enough to edge Wooyoung. He’s paying close attention to the sounds and cues from Wooyoung’s body—his slightly arched back when San deepthroats him with ease, and the way his abs flex whenever the tip of San’s nose brushes his skin as he takes the entire length in, as instructed by the palm pressing over his head.

Soon enough, Wooyoung doesn’t seem to be able to hold back for much longer. He has been pressing down on San’s head, instructing San to blow him in the rhythm imposed by him, but his resolution is faltering. He moans with every slide of lips on his cock, every drag of tongue on his underside, and he’s slowly falling apart. San doesn’t even need to be warned when the floodgates finally open and fill his mouth with so much cum that it drips down the corners of his mouth, mixing with the excessive amount of spit coating Wooyoung’s cock.

San stays right where he is, extending Wooyoung’s orgasm as much as he can as the man beneath him thrashes around and moans so loudly that anyone passing by their room might even hear him. Tears sting San’s eyes because the delicate grasp of his strands has turned full-on merciless, with Wooyoung momentarily forgetting that he can’t do the same things to San’s scalp as he does to sheets on a bed.

As oversensitivity settles in, Wooyoung’s moans turn into whimpers, and San pulls off. They’re both panting heavily. San’s gaze unintentionally lands on Wooyoung’s toned chest, watching it rise and fall. He feels his dick twitch in the confines of his pants, and maybe Wooyoung notices it too, given that his eyes snap right in that direction. With the curl of a finger, Wooyoung beckons him closer, sealing their mouths together by pulling San by the back of the head once he gets close enough. Unceremoniously, he shoves his hand down San’s sweats, setting his cock free.

It doesn’t take that long for San to fully succumb to Wooyoung’s dexterous hand and paint his boyfriend’s stomach white. Watching the cum smearing Wooyoung’s abs, San ducks to mouth at the mess, licking Wooyoung’s tummy clean without caring about the taste. He makes a mental note to improve his diet, at least for the rest of the month if the two of them are going to spend their days off together.

Wooyoung’s hands are back in his hair, tugging gently. He moans San’s name, sprinkling some pet names in between once his fucked out brain fully comprehends what he’s seeing.

“Fuck, Sannie… Baby, slow down.”

Wooyoung pretty much pulls him off. As soon as San’s lips are no longer connected to his boyfriend’s tummy, he can feel his brain booting back up and regaining normal functionality. Still, he flops down, nestled into Wooyoung’s side, and rubs his nose against the other’s ribs, right where the tattoo is.

Wooyoung hums. “Someone got carried away.”

San only responds in the form of a sound that can be interpreted as confirmation. He feels sleep’s embrace slowly pulling him back into unconsciousness, but he recalls that he still has unfinished business to do. However, when he tries to get up, Wooyoung stops him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get some wipes at least. There’s still some leftover mess on your stomach...”

Wooyoung smiles at him as if he finds him adorable. He pulls him back into bed and fluffs up the pillow before setting it under San’s head. San tries to argue, but soft lips shut him up and loving palms slide up his neck until they cup his face, effectively melting him into the mattress.

“I’ll go shower. You stay here and rest. I won’t be gone for long.”

San doesn’t find the energy within him to argue. He can barely hold his eyes open. When Wooyoung slips off the bed, San lets his eyelids drop, and he doesn’t realize sleep has taken him until the bed dips once again and Wooyoung slides into his arms, the smell of the hotel body wash fresh on his body.

Wooyoung nestles into San’s chest, whispering a tender Good night. They fall asleep embracing each other, their heartbeats synchronized and their limbs tangled together.

 

🐈‍⬛

 

When they get back to Seoul, Wooyoung walks into his dorm only to drop his luggage in the middle of the room before beelining it to San’s dorm. They have the rest of the day off, but tomorrow they have some variety shows to shoot, and the day after tomorrow they’re set to fly to Japan.

San shrugs as he checks the schedule one of their managers texted in the group chat. The whole month is packed with filming, photoshoots, and dance practices, but he can’t really complain. He’s had worse months to survive through over the years. Carefully, he inspects the schedule once more to make sure that those three days at the end of October have remained untouched, and smiles to himself.

He ended up having lunch with Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and one of their managers, and as much as he wanted to work out for a bit at the company building, Wooyoung whined and clung to him until San gave in and followed him to his own room, much to Seonghwa’s horror.

“Please keep in mind that my room is right next to yours and I don’t want to go to sleep with earbuds in again.”

Wooyoung turns his head in Seonghwa’s direction with a pout. “Oh come on, I’m sure you can find some good ASMR—ow!”

San soothes the shoulder he just smacked. “We’ll be quiet. Right?”

Wooyoung sticks his tongue out as San closes the door behind them.

Fortunately for Seonghwa, they only end up watching anime while cuddled comfortably in bed for most of the day. San misses Wooyoung’s cooking, something he voices with the biggest pout on his face while resting his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder, but the other man only sighs and says he doesn’t have the time or energy for that. As much as San expected this answer, his pout doesn’t leave his lips until Wooyoung kisses it away. They end up ordering takeout in the evening with Seonghwa, Mingi, and their manager, and they chat away as they empty their plates.

When San steps out of the shower, he finds Wooyoung on the bed, the blanket pooling over his waist. He’s inspecting the little cat plushie he planted in San’s room barely a week ago, flipping it on all sides with a small smile on his face. When he notices San staring at him, he lifts it to his face and asks, “It really looks like me, doesn’t it?”

San blinks. The plushie’s resting bitch face is in direct contrast with the soft smile plastered on Wooyoung’s lips. Nonetheless, they’re both very cute, so that’s probably what Wooyoung is referring to. “It looks like your long-lost twin.”

Wooyoung throws a pillow at him, one that he catches effortlessly.

“Am I supposed to interpret it as a gift?” San asks, watching Wooyoung place the small plushie above the bed where he used to store his liquor bottles. Once that’s done, Wooyoung turns to look at him with a questionable expression on his face. “The Wooyonyang. Did you leave it here as a gift?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Wooyoung replies as he turns his back at San, pulling the blanket over his chest, not to keep himself warm, because Wooyoung’s skin is usually as hot as a furnace, but to try to sell out the idea that he’s sulky.

San doesn’t buy it. He climbs on the bed and wraps an arm around Wooyoung under the blanket, pulling Wooyoung’s back flush with his chest. “Is it like a puzzle? Am I supposed to find out its hidden meaning?”

Wooyoung gives a cryptic answer as he reaches to turn off the nightstand lamp. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

There it is. That reply can only mean one thing—that he’s up to something. San just needs to figure out what that is.

He pulls Wooyoung back to his chest, this time nosing at his neck. “Don’t I get a clue at least?”

Wooyoung scoffs. “It’s so on the nose, I can’t even give you anything more obvious than that.”

There. Now he’s getting somewhere. “So you admit you placed it here,” San says, pushing Wooyoung’s long hair to the side and kissing the sensitive skin on his nape. He can sense Wooyoung’s sassy retaliation dying in his throat as he lets his soft lips travel on the soft skin, closer and closer to his pulse.

San would do anything to be able to bite without repercussions, to hear Wooyoung’s breath hitch and feel him yield control to him. But, no matter how much he drags his teeth over the skin, he never sinks them in. He can’t do it, not when they have to film tomorrow and when there’s a series of fansigns right around the corner. He won’t be able to do it even during their days off, at least not in places that can’t be covered by clothes. The thought makes his other hand unconsciously drag from Wooyoung’s chest dangerously close to his crotch, but before San can do anything of that caliber, Wooyoung turns around and places a finger over San’s lips.

“Don’t even think about licking my finger,” Wooyoung warns San before he could do just that. His eyes are wide and, if the lights were still on, San is sure he would see how much Wooyoung is blushing. Eventually, he sighs, and buries his head into San’s chest. Quietly, he says, “I really, really miss you.”

San wraps his arms tighter around him without realizing. He knows what Wooyoung is alluding to. But before he can say anything, Wooyoung asks, “When was the last time we had some proper alone time?”

It takes San a while to respond. “Like, three weeks ago? After you came back from Paris.”

A small sound escapes Wooyoung’s lips. “Seems like longer than that to me.”

They have gone longer without having sex, but San knows what Wooyoung is thinking about. That even though it hasn’t been that long, it still feels like an eternity has passed, and their grueling schedules constantly getting in the way only fuels their frustrations.

“You know…” San starts, sensing Wooyoung slowly looking up at him. “We don’t have dance practice tomorrow. So if you wanna…”

Wooyoung huffs and hits him in the chest before snuggling back between his pecs. “I’m too tired. You’re not getting anything out of me tonight.”

“Fair enough. Two more weeks and then we’ll have three whole days to ourselves,” San whispers, tracing circles onto Wooyoung’s back. It’s more like two weeks and a half, but Wooyoung doesn’t correct him.

Soon, sleep overtakes them both.

 

 

In the morning, the two find themselves back at the kitchen table. Seonghwa joins them with a yawn and a semi-coherent Good morning before taking a yogurt out of the fridge and some fruits. When probed about Mingi’s whereabouts, Seonghwa mumbles something about the grind never stopping.

So Mingi is at the gym. Maybe San can meet him there in a bit, since their schedule is only later in the day.

Wooyoung kicks him lightly under the table. San is aware the other man knows exactly what he’s planning. Relax a little, his eyes seem to say, and San gives a weak nod.

Thing is, he doesn’t need to push himself at the gym anymore. He achieved his dream body type, so there’s no need for him to continue buffing up. San loves working out, but now he mainly does it out of routine, or to relieve some stress. Nothing turns off his brain more than lifting some weights or running on the treadmill until his legs give out. Plus, he usually ends up dragging Wooyoung along, and his boyfriend doesn’t seem to be in the mood for any of that. And they have a schedule later today, so he shouldn’t needlessly exhaust himself.

San makes a split-second decision to not join Mingi at the gym. He’s not stressed, nor bored enough to work out. Wooyoung, who has seen him at his lowest and highest, and who has always been by his side and has sworn to continue doing so until he dies, has been keeping him company quite a lot lately. He has been San’s anchor for as long as they have known each other, and has made it his life mission to make sure that San wouldn’t sail aimlessly in an ocean of uncertainties.

Come to think of it, San can’t remember the last time Wooyoung has spent so much time with him. It’s not unusual for the two of them to spend the most time together, but since the beginning of the month, they’ve mainly slept in the same bed, whether at San’s place or in hotel rooms. They used to be attached to the hip throughout the first months of their relationship, but they eventually decided that it was a good idea to have some alone time from time to time. San used to get jealous every time Wooyoung went to hang out with people who weren’t him, and Wooyoung tended to get sulky whenever San didn’t give him attention exactly when he wanted it. This sometimes ruined the group’s overall vibes because the other members got caught in their small fights one way or another back when they all shared a single dormitory.

After Wooyoung and San decided to make things official all those years ago, no matter how much they yearned to be in each other’s spaces, they decided that their romantic bond should not get in the way of their friendships with the other members, for the sake of both their relationship and their group’s dynamic. Wooyoung especially wanted to avoid making Yeosang feel left out like he did back in 2019, though he sometimes teases Seonghwa for third-wheeling when the three of them hang out.

It took time to learn how to balance out their job and relationship. Even if they were apart for days or even weeks at a time, they always found themselves in each other’s arms at the end of the day. But Wooyoung has been especially clingy lately, as well as incredibly eager to get his hands (or mouth) on San’s body, an eagerness he hasn’t shown in a while. It’s like they’re back to the first few weeks after they started calling each other boyfriend, or back in 2021 when they used every possible opportunity to get each other off, even risking getting caught by people who were not aware of their relationship at that time. San shudders as he recalls this. They would never take the risks they took back then, but they were young and obsessed with each other, as well as frustrated for not having almost any alone time because of the packed schedules.

In retrospect, 2021 wasn’t that good of a year, but they made it work because they had each other and their members.

Wooyoung finishes his own yogurt and thanks Seonghwa, who gets up and throw both cups into the trash. Wooyoung’s hand ghosts over San’s thigh under the table, right over their tattoo, and San knows it’s an intentional act, even though sometimes it’s not. Somehow, their hands always end up on the other’s shared tattoo when they offer comfort, even when they don’t aim for that specific area. It’s like their palms are magnetized to the inked words on skin when they reach out for each other. San caught both of them doing it when he sometimes watches their variety shows to see the end result of their filming. Wooyoung is aware of it too, but this touch seems very deliberate, because the tips of his fingers are ghosting over the inner side of San’s thigh.

San gets lost in his thoughts as he watches Wooyoung’s thumb trace over his sweats. He doesn’t even realize that Seonghwa has been eyeing Wooyoung’s phone screen from behind them until the older man says, “That is a nice skirt.”

Wooyoung almost drops his phone. It lands in his lap, but he brings it to his chest to hide its contents. “Hyung, what the hell! Why are you lurking over my shoulder like that?”

Seonghwa raises his hands in self-defense. “I didn’t mean to! It just caught my eye.”

San feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t chime into the conversation. He wants to see where this is heading.

Wooyoung glares at his friend for a bit before sliding his phone off his chest and showing him the screen. “It fits my style, doesn’t it?”

“Well, you’re the best judge when it comes to that,” Seonghwa says as he leans down to take a closer look, “But yes, I can see you wearing that. Could work with some black tight pants underneath.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on wearing any pants with it,” Wooyoung leisurely adds, prompting a questioning look from Seonghwa.

“That’s… risky. As much as I would love that for you, and for myself as well, I don’t think the company will ever let us do that.”

He doesn’t need to say more. The company isn’t necessarily against them wearing skirts without pants underneath, but the inevitable criticism that will surface as soon as they show up in such outfits isn’t something that the higher-ups want to deal with if it can simply be avoided. It’s understandable that they don’t want to take any risks of that sort. Hell, the company already has a huge risk just under their roof with two members dating each other, they don’t need any more than that.

Wooyoung pushes Seonghwa away with a smirk. “Oh, I don’t plan to wear this in public.”

This very much confuses Seonghwa. “Then where would you…?” His confusion clears when his eyes fall on San, who is staring at his boyfriend with the widest grin possible. “Ah. Something tells me that I shouldn’t probe further.”

“Can’t blame us this time,” Wooyoung says with a shrug. “This is on you.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes and leaves for his room without another word. It’s just the two of them now. But when San leans in to peek at Wooyoung’s phone, his boyfriend reels away, once again holding the screen against his chest.

“I wanna see too,” San whines. His frown deepens when Wooyoung replies with a firm shake of his head.

“Not yet.” He kisses San’s frown away. “It’s meant to be a surprise. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

“Is it knee-length?”

The smile gives Wooyoung away. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He puts down his phone on the table, face up, but just then, the screen lights up with a text notification. Wooyoung’s eyes widen. He slaps a hand over the screen and opens the messaging app before San can even read the name of the sender.

“Who is it?” he asks, but Wooyoung doesn’t answer. He taps a few quick words to reply to the text and then shoves the phone in his pocket. He gets up in a rush, tugging San toward his room with a beaming smile.

This only confuses San even more. “What?” he asks again, but Wooyoung only giggles as he pulls him back into the room, slamming the door behind them and, of course, pushing San against it.

He doesn’t get to ask another question because immediately Wooyoung’s lips are on his, not even trying to hide his smile or the giggles that are ready to burst out of his chest. San kisses back, albeit surprised, but he doesn’t try to push Wooyoung away. It’s clear that he’s very happy about something and that he wants to share this happiness, so San is more than willing to pull him closer by the back of his head and deepen the kiss.

When Wooyoung pulls back, he’s grinning from ear to ear. He even rubs his nose against San’s, something he doesn’t do unless he’s being very playful.

San can’t help but mirror the smile. “Jagi, I’m happy that you’re happy, but I’m afraid I’m missing a critical piece of information here.”

Wooyoung loops his arms around San’s neck, pulling him from the door and walking him in the direction of the bed. He sits down, beckoning San to follow.

“So,” Wooyoung begins San he carefully climbs over him, “I’ve been talking to a friend of a friend lately.”

San hikes an eyebrow. “About?”

“Don’t get jealous now. I don’t think you guys ever met. Anyway, he’s a producer, friend of Yeonjun. Very cool guy, open-minded too, so we get along well. Yeonjun brought him along whenever we met up for drinks last year. The guy got a breakthrough in the industry a couple years ago thanks to Yeonjun pulling some strings and getting him in contact with some other producers, and he’s been swimming in cash since then. I’m talking money flowing into his bank account with all the royalties he’s got going on.”

Wooyoung’s hands continue roaming over San’s skin as he tells his story. In no time, he pulls San’s shirt over his head and flips them around, pressing a palm right over San’s heart as he moves to straddle his hips.

“Long story short, he owes Yeonjun, and Yeonjun owes me, so I asked for a favor.”

“What favor?” San asks, hissing when Wooyoung flicks one of his nipples before moving to mouth at his jaw.

“The guy owns a fucking lodge outside of town. Forty minutes drive from Seoul. Private property, referral only access. There’s a pool, too. We have the whole place for three nights. What do you think?” Wooyoung asks the question in a whisper.

“Wait.” San gets up on his elbow, holding Wooyoung by the waist with his free hand so he won’t tumble off. “The dude just lets us have his house for three whole nights? Just like that?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and flicks San on the forehead. “It’s not his house, he doesn’t live there. It’s a lodge where he usually hosts parties during the summer. Yeonjun went there a couple times, told me that guy makes the most gut-punching cocktails.”

“And you just managed to convince him to let us have the whole place for three days?”

“I have my ways,” Wooyoung replies, the tips of his fingers dancing over San’s collarbone. “And what I mean by that is that I complained to him and Yeonjun one day about barely having any time to spend with my lovely boyfriend. Producer dude was very sympathetic and said he’d be happy to lend us the place for a few days if we got some days off. Very romantic guy, now that I think about it. Most of his paycheck funds his girlfriend’s designer bags, if you ask me.”

San hums. He’s well aware that his boyfriend is very resourceful, but he didn’t expect something like this. He eyes Wooyoung with a hint of mischief. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A while. I asked him a couple weeks ago if his offer still stands and he said he needed to send someone over to clean the place up before he could give me the green light. Something about some tiles in the kitchen needing to be replaced because of damage from his last party.”

San’s hand has, unsurprisingly, drifted down to Wooyoung’s ass. He kneads it as he ponders. “I take it we’re going there in two weeks?”

“Two weeks and a half,” Wooyoung finally corrects him. “But yes. I hope your schedule is free.”

“Of course.” He looks down, right where Wooyoung is groping him through his sweats. “You do know Seonghwa hyung is going to kill us if he hears us, right?”

 Wooyoung’s chuckle is low and guttural as he leans in for a kiss. He pushes San down until his head hits the pillows without disconnecting their lips and suggests, “Then you’d better be as quiet as a mouse while I ride you, mkay?”

“Afraid that’s not possible.” Wooyoung makes a face at him. “You’d better gag me if you want that, Wooyoung-ah,” San says with a taunting smile, his voice soft but tantalizing at the same time, as if dipped in honey around the edges.

Instantly, Wooyoung’s face turns bright red. With a shaky exhale, his eyes begin scanning around the room. “Fine. Where do you even keep that thing?”

 

🐈‍⬛

 

It’s always nice to visit Japan. Yunho would wag his tail if he could every time they get notified that they’re flying back there. The second the news registers in his brain, he’s already making plans to pack as little as he can so he can return with his bag full of local snacks and sweets.

The fansign event proceeds without a hitch. San gets assigned the seat next to Wooyoung, and they both try to make each other laugh at the stupidest things while also trying not to distract each other too much. It’s oxymoronic, but they’ve learnt not to get lost in each other’s space over time, even though getting used to that was hard at first. They love each other, but they still have a job to do, and showing too much of their dynamic is always risky, even though they’re not being overly romantic. Well, they’re not trying to be overly romantic, to be more precise, but things slip from time to time, consciously or not.

During the first day of the fansign, he and Wooyoung are their usual selves—always smiling, making jokes only they understand during their brief breaks, and posing together for pictures when people call for them. Although they take a lot of pictures together, Wooyoung still sneaks behind San to photobomb, or pulls him by the shoulder to squish their cheeks together, or simply slide his chair closer, flashing a peace sign before dragging his chair in its original position and watching San with nonchalance when the other man turns to look at him.

During the second day, however, it’s as if a switch turns on within Wooyoung. His actions gain a new level of boldness. He shamelessly gropes San while there’s at least thirty cameras on them, and although the footage doesn’t capture just how tightly he grips the other’s ass, San can still feel the material of his jeans tighten in tandem with the harsh fondle of his cheeks. But he keeps a straight face. They have done much more incriminating stuff to each other over the years. This is nothing in comparison to Wooyoung sliding a finger in between the crease of his jeans during that one Guerrilla fansign, or very intentionally pushing his ass against San’s crotch several times throughout their careers.

When staff gives them the cue for a five minute break, San taps Wooyoung on the thigh and spins his chair around, now turned away from the audience, but he hopes they won’t mind taking pictures of his back for a few seconds. Wooyoung does the same and leans forward when San beckons him with a crooked finger.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble again,” San warns, but the smile on Wooyoung’s face tells him that warning won’t do much.

“How so?”

“How so,” San echoes mockingly. “You keep trying to kiss me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

San throws him a look. They’ve had this discussion before. “Last year—”

“I didn’t kiss you on the mouth then and I didn’t do it this time either,” Wooyoung says with a roll of his eyes. He’s not frustrated at San, just… in general. “I made it obvious now. I still can’t believe no one from the sidelines caught the angle of me stopping right before your lips last year.”

San hums. Despite Wooyoung’s overall careful nature, he sometimes gives in to impulse, surprisingly even San. After the managers severely scolded Wooyoung for what he pulled off during Bouncy promotions, San asked him why he did it. The answer was, No reason. I was just happy.

He smiles. He’s glad Wooyoung is happy now too.

Still, they can’t afford another scolding from the higher-ups, so San gives him a gentle squeeze on the thigh, above the tattoo. “Don’t go too overboard. You’ll have me all for yourself when we return to the hotel.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. He seems intrigued. “You promise?”

San gives him another squeeze and spins his chair back around, his expression betraying no anticipation or anything of that sort.

 

🐈‍⬛

 

When they get back at the hotel, Wooyoung acts elusively. San tries to get a hold of him, but he simply slithers out of his embrace like an eel and skitters away. No matter. At the end of the day, he’ll be in San’s bed, hopefully too fucked out to be in the mood for any more games.

But it’s the wait that gets San on his nerves. He orders room service, but Wooyoung doesn’t reply to his invitation to join him. Seonghwa, however, does, and they eat in comfortable silence. They have mainly dance practice for the upcoming two weeks, so this is only the beginning of the exhaustion that will seep into their bones by the end of the month.

But the end of the month marks those three days off that they have, so San doesn’t mind working his ass off if he has that to look forward to.

 

[⛰️]:

babe

love

darling

the one and only light of my life wooyoung-ah at least give me a sign of life so I know you weren’t kidnapped from under the managers’ noses :(

 

[🖤]:

🐈‍⬛

 

“You think you’re so funny,” San says under his breath. “What are you planning?”

 

[⛰️]:

can I at least get a hint

what should I expect

…

should I prep???

if u wanted to top u should have said so beforehand >:(

 

[🖤]:

🙄

can you go one day without thinking about dick

and no, dw about that

can you really not wait anymore?

 

[⛰️]:

…no???

[🖤]:

that’s too bad~

 

[⛰️]:

…

we have a flight in the morning -_- are u gonna keep me up all night again

and what’s with the black cat?

 

Wooyoung sees his text, but doesn’t follow up with any clarification. Frustrated, San hugs a pillow to his chest and resumes watching an anime on his phone, trying his hardest to keep his very horny thoughts at bay.

He has no clue what Wooyoung is planning, but one thing's for sure—he’s purposely keeping San in the dark so he can be all the more worked up once Wooyoung finally decides to show up.

And it’s working.

It barely registers in San’s brain that he’s falling asleep. He struggles to keep his eyes open until the episode ends, but he clearly loses that battle. His phone slips out of his grip, surely lost somewhere in the sheets.

What wakes him up is a lap full of Wooyoung, who is not so subtly grinding his ass over San’s crotch.

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” Wooyoung coos, brushing the bangs away from San’s eyes with gentle movements. “Did my tactics fail me? You were so bored that you lost interest and didn’t want to wait for me anymore?”

San immediately pushes himself on his elbows. The sleep in his eyes quickly melts away the moment he sees the dangerously low V-cut shirt Wooyoung is wearing, highlighting the sharpness of his collarbone and the outlines of his pecs. It’s black, Wooyoung’s favorite color, soft to the touch when San runs his palms up his boyfriend’s arms, and it has an elegant air to it. San could see Wooyoung show up wearing this at a gala or some fancy event, not in bed. The long, flowy sleeves remind him of something Seonghwa would wear. His hyung most likely had a hand in helping Wooyoung pick this.

He’s wearing shorts again, too. Black, simple, so short that San can see the fading hickeys he left on the inside of Wooyoung’s thigh three days ago. These shorts are new, too.

The tattoo on his thigh entices San to kiss it. He can barely resist the temptation.

Wooyoung can see the greed materializing in San’s eyes the moment the other’s eyes start scanning his body. “You like this outfit too, no?”

San blinks rapidly to shake the sleepiness from his eyes and tries to calm himself. “Where do you keep getting these from? I thought I knew your wardrobe inside-out.”

Wooyoung chuckles, lightly grazing San’s chest with his fingertips. “That’s to be expected. You always steal my hoodies.”

“They’re comfy.”

“People keep theorizing we’re together because you always wear them.”

“That doesn’t change the fact they’re comfy. And we are together.”

With a pleased hum, Wooyoung leans forward to hold San’s face with his palms, the sleeves of his silky top gently tickling the exposed skin of his neck. “You’re soft launching us, yet you say that I get us in trouble all the time.”

“Not all the time. Only when you try to kiss me on the mouth where everyone can see.”

Rightfully, Wooyoung shuts him up with a kiss, angling San’s face for better access. San lets him, but when his palms start wandering under Wooyoung’s shirt, his boyfriend pulls back and detaches San’s hand from his skin with a mischievous look on his face.

“Right. I didn’t get to tell you yet. There’s some rules in place for tonight.”

“Rules?” asks San. His puzzled expression only makes Wooyoung’s grin grow wider.

“Mhm. No touching unless I say so. Can you do that?”

With this being said, Wooyoung places San’s hands to the side, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. San watches him, puzzled.

“What do you mean I can’t touch you? What am I supposed to do then?”

Wooyoung places a hand on San’s shoulder, as if steadying him. “Watch.”

But San can’t even do that because in the next moment, Wooyoung’s lips are back on his, impatient to lick into San’s mouth, to swallow any complaint that he might voice. He smells faintly of jasmine, like the hotel body wash he probably showered with, but it’s clear he sprayed some of his favorite cologne—which also happens to be San’s—on his neck. San didn’t even pick up on it before, too focused on how breathtaking Wooyoung looked.

He almost gives in to his instincts and slides a hand on Wooyoung’s back and then under his shirt, but he curls his fingers into a fist on the bed, heeding Wooyoung’s request. It’s a game of patience, one that they’ve played so many times that he lost count. San doesn’t always emerge a victor from these games, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to give up on this fight from the get-go. Plus, things are more fun when he plays by the rules—Wooyoung’s rules.

Wooyoung’s kisses are slow but charged with passion. His lips are soft, and the cherry lip balm he applied beforehand is addicting, to say the least. It mixes pleasantly with his cologne, and San tries to chase the cherry flavor with his tongue, but Wooyoung doesn’t let him. He licks into San’s mouth greedily, as if he can’t get enough of it, as if it’s the last kiss they’ll ever share.

San’s palms are itchy. He wants to touch so badly, but he keeps his hands glued to the mattress. The sheer anticipation sends his blood pumping downward, something he’s sure Wooyoung can feel from where he sits on top of him.

Soon enough, there’s spit dripping from the corners of his mouth, down his chin and neck. Wooyoung pulls back, breathing for air. He admires his work by dragging a thumb over a glistening trail before bringing it to his lips and sucking.

That sends a jolt straight to San’s cock. Judging by the brief arch of Wooyoung’s eyebrows, he felt it too.

“You’re so messy,” San tells him, lifting a hand to wipe the remaining saliva from his chin, but Wooyoung stops him.

“You like messy,” he says, ducking to lick at San’s neck, right over his pulse, while he slides a hand between their bodies. He grinds the heel of his palm against San’s erection, making him buckle his hips into the touch. He giggles, clearly enjoying himself.

San squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore just how Wooyoung is draping himself over him, arching his back in a way that invites San to slap both palms over the other man’s cheeks and squeeze. “Wooyoung-ah, can I touch you now?”

The reply is quick and definitive. “No.” He refuses to elaborate and returns to tracing wet kisses along San’s neck veins and jaw, even nibbling at his earlobe, his teeth always ghosting San’s skin with the intent to bite, but the herculean willpower to hold back. He’s like a vampire that is purposefully starving himself. They should both be used to it, to not leave hickeys, but the raw desire to claim each other is sometimes too intense to smother. Usually, San can feel it intensify with every kiss against Wooyoung’s skin, like a controlled fire residing deep within his chest. He has to keep himself in check every time he mouths too harshly at the other man’s neck, or anywhere his clothes can’t cover, because all it takes for that fire to engulf everything they stand for is one small mistake.

Thankfully, Wooyoung controls himself. He instead decides to press long, lasting kisses against San’s neck and grasps the outline of San’s hardness through the material of his underwear, tracing a finger from the base of his cock to the tip, where wetness has started to seep through the material.

“Young-ah,” San gasps, feeling Wooyoung drag his finger over a protruding vein. It shows how well Wooyoung knows him. He doesn’t even have to see it to know where it is.

“What is it, love?” Wooyoung asks, looking deeply into San’s eyes. “You want to touch me? Hm?”

San nods. Vigorously. Which only makes Wooyoung’s smile wider. He bites his lip, pretending to ponder.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Wooyoung abandons playing with his boyfriend’s cock to bring both hands to his own tummy, lifting the material of the shirt enough to expose his belly button. “Do you deserve it?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t…?” San stops himself. The sassy look on Wooyoung’s face tells him that was the wrong answer.

“You haven’t been paying enough attention to me lately,” Wooyoung whines, dragging the last syllable with a pout and a shake of his ass over San’s clothed erection.

“What do you mean? We pretty much slept together every night this month. I don’t think we were ever apart for longer than a few hours, and that’s because you avoided me this whole evening.”

Wooyoung’s pout deepens as he feigns disappointment. “I was talking about these past few days. I hug and blow you kisses during two separate fansigns, yet you can’t even hug me in return or let me kiss you without reeling back?”

San sighs. His defeat is imminent. “I just don’t want us to get in trouble. I know how much last year’s reprimand upset you and you know how hard it is for me to fully hold myself back when you’re around. I just want you to be happy.”

If San had permission to touch Wooyoung now, he would bring his boyfriend’s hand to his lips and kiss his knuckles as a form of apology. Since he can’t do that, he softens his gaze and offers an honest smile, trying to ignore how red his face must look.

Wooyoung hums and looks down. For a brief moment, he looks sad. He reaches out for San’s hand and grasps it tightly as his smile returns to his face.

“I’m happy, San. The happiest when I’m with you. That will never change. But…”

San raises an eyebrow. “But?”

Wooyoung licks his lips, his mischievous expression back on his face in the blink of an eye, as if he just donned a mask. He lets go of San’s hand and brings a palm to his chest, tugging at the V-cut to expose more of his chest. “Do you want this off?”

“Fuck, Wooyoung, what do you think?”

“That’s not an answer,” Wooyoung replies, hooking an index finger under San’s chin and tilting his head up, making it difficult for him to look down at what interests him most.

Wooyoung senses his distress and grins. He wiggles closer and whispers against San’s lips, “You may touch now. But you can’t watch.”

San gets his hands on Wooyoung’s as soon as their mouths clash. He kisses back and squeezes the delicate skin of his boyfriend’s ass with equal greed and hunger, as if he can’t live without either of these things. He’s been addicted to Wooyoung ever since they first got their mouths and hands on each other more than five years ago. Living without him simply isn’t an option anymore.

Their kisses are rushed, way messier and more intense than earlier. Wooyoung doesn’t even pull back to breathe; instead, he gasps against San’s mouth every time he runs out of air before San pulls him by the back of the head to seal their lips back together.

In no time, Wooyoung begins grinding his erection against San’s, their hips aligned and their movements perfectly in sync. It doesn’t take long for Wooyoung’s gasps to turn into needy whines and then satisfied hums.

With a heavy heart, San lets go of one of his boyfriend’s ass cheeks and brings a hand to the other’s stomach, slowly lifting the shirt until it rolls under Wooyoung’s armpits. He immediately circles over a nipple, prompting a needy whine from Wooyoung’s throat, but some spit would do wonders to rile him up even more. The thing is, San doesn’t want to stop kissing Wooyoung, and he also has a hunch that if he does stop, he won’t be allowed to touch anymore.

So, he does the next best thing. He slides his hand down and pushes it down Wooyoung’s shorts. He’s met with no underwear once again, no surprise there. Normally, he would tease Wooyoung by dragging a finger under the waistband to pull his shorts down, or let him roll his hips forward as San palms him through the fabric, but now, he sets Wooyoung’s cock free without wasting any more time. It slaps over his stomach with a wet noise, making Wooyoung moan into his mouth before pulling back.

He looks down at San dragging the precum coating over his cock. There’s a familiar glint in his eye when he meets San’s gaze.

“What is it? You want your mouth on it?”

San doesn’t reply. He lets go of Wooyoung’s cock in favor of pinching his nipple with two wet fingers, not even letting Wooyoung’s whine leave his lips before pulling him back for a kiss. This time reaches a new level of desperation—San didn’t know this was even possible—though they’re panting into each other’s mouths rather than actually kissing. Once Wooyoung starts rubbing his cock against San’s shirt, San puts some space between them by gently pushing at his boyfriend’s chest.

“Babe.” He tries to ignore how spit-stricken Wooyoung’s full lips are, how intense his blush is, or how disheveled his long hair looks like. He seems fucked out already. San momentarily forgets what he wanted to say.

“Yes?” Wooyoung replies breathlessly once the silence becomes uncomfortable.

“Right. Um. Any other… plans for tonight? Any more rules?”

Wooyoung watches him with heavy eyelids as he slowly steadies his breathing and wipes the saliva off his mouth and chin.

“No more rules. I blow you, and then you fuck me. You in?”

San nods without even realizing. “In what world would I say no?”

They take the rest of their clothes off slowly and with care, in direct contrast with the fire blazing under their skin. They still kiss in a similar manner as they shed their clothes, as if they’re in no rush whatsoever. To some extent, that’s correct. There is no schedule breathing down their necks, and sleep isn’t beckoning them just yet. San did fall asleep earlier, but he’s wide awake now, and Wooyoung seems to be brimming with energy and enthusiasm. Technically, they have to get up at 8 AM sharp tomorrow, but this won’t be the first time they sacrifice some sleep for the sake of sex.

Even though they could theoretically take things slow, their bodies think otherwise. San is worked up from their earlier messing around, and when Wooyoung finally pulls the last piece of clothing that separates their naked bodies—San’s boxers—with his teeth, San has to resist the urge to palm himself to relieve some of that pent-up pressure.

Wooyoung climbs back over him, though he doesn’t stay there for too long. The pecks on San’s lips are chaste and innocent, but they fuel the desire in his heart nonetheless. When Wooyoung leans back, San lets the other man pull him until his legs dangle over the edge of the bed and Wooyoung sinks between them.

“You’re gonna get carpet burn,” San says. His breath hitches when Wooyoung starts mouthing at his inner thigh.

“S’fine. I don’t plan on wearing shorts anytime soon.”

Like this, Wooyoung continues his journey on San’s thigh. His hand climbs up until it wraps around his boyfriend’s cock, fisting it slowly yet with clear intent, enough to keep San interested but not frustrate him.

Wooyoung’s lips feel like heaven once he turns his attention from San’s thigh to his dick, which he takes in his mouth in record time, sinking until the tip of his nose bumps into the skin under San’s navel. Inevitably, he chokes.

“Easy,” San says, petting Wooyoung’s hair and wiping away the spit that drips at the corner of his mouth as he pulls away.

“Sorry. Got too excited.”

San’s breath is just as shaky as Wooyoung’s. “Take your time. I won’t rush you.”

He realizes a second too late what he just said and how Wooyoung can use it against him but, thankfully, his boyfriend doesn’t seem to be in the mood to edge him tonight.

Instead, he presses tender kisses on the side of San’s cock and mouths at the head while peering with those soft Bambi eyes at him under long eyelashes. San closes his eyes for a couple seconds to steady himself before fluttering them back open. Wooyoung is putting on a beautiful show for him, and he doesn’t intend to offend him by looking away, even for the purpose of not blowing his load prematurely.

It should embarrass him, but he’s too tired to care. Even though he’s not sleepy anymore, he’s still exhausted from the schedules of the past few days and the knowledge that he will bust his ass off in the practice room for the next two weeks.

But Wooyoung, fuck, he’s so beautiful. His long bangs keep getting in his eyes as he bobs his head up and down, but San brushes them away. He wants to see more of those pleading wide eyes and the trembling tears right before they fall. San wipes them away with gentle swipes of his thumb, his touch lingering on Wooyoung’s small dot under his eye.

San washes his boyfriend in praise with any occasion he can get, but he’s putting an effort to be extra sweet now, despite how much he wants to throw his head back and come down Wooyoung’s throat with every passing second. No, San’s gently combing a hand through Wooyoung’s soft long hair, telling him how beautiful he us, how much he loves him, and how grateful he is that he’s being taken care of so well by someone with such a big heart as Wooyoung’s.

Fuck, he knows from experience that being sentimental mid-blowjob is not a good idea.

Wooyoung pulls off, most likely sensing how close San is, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he still laps at the cockhead, looking up with pleading eyes as he expertly swirls his tongue in all the right places. There’s tear trails on his cheeks, ones that San wants to wipe so badly, but he decides to wait until he pulls Wooyoung back into his lap so as to not disturb his current objective.

While licking and kissing around the tip, Wooyoung maintains a steady rhythm up and down San’s cock with his hand, albeit relatively slow—just enough to keep him dangling over the edge. His other hand has been idly resting over San’s thigh all this time, but now he’s gently gripping the skin in a way that San can only describe as possessive. He glances over and, sure enough, he sees the edges of the black ink on his skin peeking through Wooyoung’s fingers.

“You’re beautiful too,” Wooyoung whispers as he completely pulls off San’s cock. He moves his hand from over the tattoo, as if he has been protecting it all this time, but his lips are on the ink in no time. “Gorgeous. Kind-hearted. Selfless. The most talented person I know,” he says in between kisses. Suddenly, he looks up as his bottom lip grazes the ad of their shared tattoo, the physical proof of their love. “A god in my eyes.”

San gasps. He bites his lip until it numbs in an effort to halt his impending orgasm.

Their tattoos. Friends until the altar. Partners until death. Someone whose only higher allegiance is to religion. They’ve talked over these possible meanings after Wooyoung proposed the idea of their tattoo all those years ago. But neither of them are religious. San’s short time spent as a church boy only strengthened his non-belief in higher beings. The only thing that makes him doubt this is his bond with Wooyoung, who made him believe in soulmates. Long ago, San came to the conclusion that there’s no other explanation for the undying devotion they have for each other.

Fuck.

Wooyoung’s hand is still slowly fisting San’s dick, but there is no intention to draw out an orgasm out of him based on the movements. It seems that he’s absently doing it, his focus entirely on San’s face and his lips drawn to the ink on his thigh.

Despite this, he really isn’t helping San’s uphill battle against the orgasm simmering in his belly, but he also doesn’t want to tell Wooyoung to stop. He can only scratch at Wooyoung’s scalp while tears of his own form in his eyes.

Wooyoung doesn’t seem to notice San’s predicament. He seems to be lost in a haze as he keeps mouthing at the tattoo, slowly and determinedly. “I’m so lucky to be loved by you, San. I’m so happy that we met. I’m so…” he pauses, leaning back to thumb at the spot he just kissed, right over the word aras. “I’ve been nothing but happy since I met you.”

And then he snaps the line that has been keeping San precariously dangling over the edge.

“I’m so happy that you’re mine. And that I’m yours. We’ll only be each other’s for the rest of our lives,” Wooyoung says against his thigh as he resumes dragging his lips along the ink, like he wants to tattoo his own kisses right over the words.

San mentally curses. He only manages to warn Wooyoung in a weak voice by calling his name. Clueless, tge man looks up, just in time to for white ropes of cum to shoot on his face.

San doesn’t even get to see that, though he imagines the shock on Wooyoung’s face and how he is probably planning his death as he’s coming down from his high. He doesn’t remember the last time an orgasm shook him to the core like this—maybe when Wooyoung blew him for the first time, but his thoughts are so muddled right now that he can only register the pleasure racking his body, making his voice quiver as he mumbles Wooyoung’s name and apologies, meddling them together until he can’t make sense of what he’s saying anymore.

He doesn’t realize how much time he spends in that reverie, floating in the clouds with his eyes shut tight to the outside world. A gentle hand on his cheek snaps him back to reality, and when San opens his eyes, he’s fully prepared to be greeted by the image of Wooyoung with cum dripping down his cheek and chin, glaring daggers at him like he wants to kill him. San correctly predicted the first part. There’s cum streaking Wooyoung’s cheeks, chin, even eyelashes. But the other man is… laughing?

“This is a first,” he says in between chuckles. “I didn’t know you were that close.”

“Oh my god,” San says, horrified. “Did it get in your eye?”

Wooyoung’s laughter warms his heart and eases his anxiety. “No, some landed on my eyelid and dripped down, I think. Next time, at least try to warm me earlier, alright?”

“I tried,” San whines, which only makes Wooyoung laugh harder. “Can you step away for a bit? There’s a tissue box in the nightstand drawer, but I can’t reach it with you on my lap.”

Wooyoung blows air in his face in fake annoyance. “I can get it myself, you know.”

With that, he gets up and hands over the pack of tissues to San, who carefully wipes away the mess on his lover’s face. He tries to ignore how intently Wooyoung is watching him, as well as the shadow of a smile in the corners of his mouth. He also tries to ignore how red his own cheeks and ears feel.

Once he’s done, he crumples the tissues together and flings them like a basketball in the garbage bin on the other side of the room.

“Nice throw,” Wooyoung compliments him. San tries to ignore the smug undertone of his voice. “Now, Sannie, will you…?”

“Will I what?”

“Still fuck me? Like I asked?”

Who is San to refuse Wooyoung when he is batting his eyelashes so prettily, and when his lip mole begs for kisses so much because he pushes his bottom lip out while pouting?

“Of course. But you’re gonna have to give me some time.” He closes his eyes in embarrassment. Wooyoung’s cheerful laughter gives him the courage to open them again.

“You’re so cute.” He loops his arms around San’s neck and pulls himself closer. “It’s okay. I was also playing a dangerous game, trying to see if I could get you to come prematurely.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Wooyoung asks, playing with a strand of hair next to San’s ear. “Two orgasms are better than one, are they not?”

San nods. He can’t argue with that logic. However, this reminds him of something he completely lost track off. Looking down, he sees Wooyoung’s thick cock between their bodies, red and smeared with precum. He gestures at it and asks, “Do you want…?”

Promptly, Wooyoung shakes his head. “Want to come after you fill me up nicely. Although…” He bites his lip. “You can touch. A bit. Just don’t make me come yet. Please?”

San nods again. His gaze is trained on Wooyoung as he wraps a hand around his cock, watching his eyes flutter closed as he gives it a few pumps. Precum drips down San’s fist as he smears it over the shaft, making the slide easy and enjoyable for Wooyoung. He doesn’t know where to look—down to watch his craft as he makes things wetter and messier with every slide, or up, where Wooyoung has his head thrown back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow and whimper.

“Enough,” Wooyoung declares somewhat breathlessly before grabbing San by the hair to slot their lips together. This time, the exchange of kisses is a pleasant slide of lips, all velvety and cherry, their tongues gently meeting in the middle. Wooyoung moans into San’s mouth, clearly impatient as he ghosts his fingertips over San’s nipples.

“Watch it,” San warns him in between kisses. “Told you I needed some time.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you came when you shouldn’t have,” Wooyoung replies, biting his lip.

San chuckles. “It’s actually very much your fault, but—” He pauses. His hands have been wandering, charting Wooyoung’s skin until they ended up sprawled over his ass cheeks, like they always do. But when San dips a finger to brush over his hole, he instead brushes over a familiar silicone texture.

With a questioning eyebrow raised, he looks up at Wooyoung as he circles over the plug. “You’ve had this in this whole time?”

Wooyoung watches him with a deadpan expression. “No, I just slid it in while you weren’t paying attention.”

San gives a firm squeeze of his cheek with his other hand. “Why are you giving me an attitude?”

“Because I want you to push me on the bed and fuck me already,” Wooyoung coos, his grin melting into his voice as he ducks to mouth at his boyfriend’s jaw.

San tilts his head back to give him better access and groans when those soft lips find the sensitive spot under his ear. His index finger has been circling the round end of the plug, and he finally decides to pull it out slightly before thrusting it back in, slowly fucking Wooyoung with it.

“Can’t believe you brought this with you. You planned this before we even got on the plane.”

“Mm, maybe, ngh. Can you angle it just a bit—fuck!”

Wooyoung cries out with a drawn out moan as San angles the plug to nudge it right over Wooyoung’s prostate. His whines are getting higher in pitch as his sweet spot keeps getting attention, and San has to remind him not to sink his nails too much so close to the other’s neck, where others can see.

“I’ll stop giving you an attitude if you fuck me already,” Wooyoung demands as he lifts his head from the crook of San’s neck. His glassy eyes and pouty lips don’t make him look intimidating at all.

But San can’t deny him. Just the sight of a semi-wrecked Wooyoung makes his cock hard in record time. Wooyoung wrapping a hand around him to speed up the process isn’t helping either.

San kisses him before gently moving him from his lap and onto the bed, carefully laying Wooyoung’s head over the pillows. When he pulls back, he has to suppress a curse. Wooyoung’s long hair unfolded like a dark halo on the pearly white pillow under his head.

“Angel,” San blurts out in a whisper as he brings a hand to Wooyoung’s face. Wooyoung giggles and leans into the touch, although he probably doesn’t make the association between his hair and the compliment.

Sensing San pull away, Wooyoung holds onto his hand to keep him there. There’s an unspoken question in his eyes. San soothes him with a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’ll go get a towel to put underneath. Unless you want me to use a condom? Or sleep in filthy sheets?”

Wooyoung drops his hand with a pout. “Fine.”

“You’re cute when you pretend to be annoyed.”

Wooyoung swats a nearby pillow at him. “Go get that goddamn towel or so help me, Choi San.”

San waltzes over to the bathroom, not quick enough for Wooyoung’s liking, judging by his deepening frown. He flips through the pile of towels, swinging a big one over a shoulder and fishing a small one from the top of the towel pile to wet under the warm stream of water from the sink.

Once he squeezes out all the excess water, he swings the bathroom door open. What he sees on the bed makes him freeze in his tracks.

Wooyoung’s face is flushed red, and now that San is finally looking at him, he finally allows himself to let out tiny gasps of pleasure as he thrusts the plug in and out of him with trained movements. Legs spread open, chest heaving, hair thrown in all directions—he seems to be wordlessly begging San to come sit between his legs.

Slowly, San places the small towel meant to clean Wooyoung up on the backrest of a nearby chair. He approaches the bed with careful steps, his face blank as his eyes snap from Wooyoung’s face to his wet hole as the plug plunges in and out of him.

“What are you doing?” San asks when he reaches the foot of the bed.

Wooyoung doesn’t appear moved in the slightest by his supposed indifference. He continues fucking himself vigorously. “What you should be doing.”

San watches for a few very long seconds. He spots the bottle of lube nearby. Opened. Of course Wooyoung found it under his pillow.

“Scoot over,” he says. When Wooyoung pretends not to hear him, San climbs over him and pins his wrists over his head with one hand. He removes the plug and places it on the nightstand over a pile of tissues that will hopefully absorb most of the lube dripping down.

When he turns his attention back to the bed, he realizes that Wooyoung is watching him with a lost expression in his eyes, still breathing heavily. San picks up the big towel from where he dropped it on the edge of the bed and motions for Wooyoung to move over with a jerk of his chin.

Unexpectedly, Wooyoung obeys. With a weak nod, he shuffles on his hands and knees toward the foot of the bed, trying not to get any more lube on the sheets as some of it is dripping down his thigh. He used way too much. Greedy.

San pretty much throws the towel on the bed before reaching out to tug Wooyoung in his arms. He holds his boyfriend’s face in his hands and beckons him for a kiss, which Wooyoung grants, sweet and lovely, just like him.

“You can’t be patient for once in your life,” San says after they break the kiss and begin maneuvering their bodies around.

“Not when it comes to you,” Wooyoung replies as his back hits the mattress, his disheveled hair spreading in all directions to create a mismatched halo again.

The sight renders San speechless once more. He finds himself playing with a strand of Wooyoung’s hair between his thumb and index finger and only snaps out of it when Wooyoung brings a finger to his face, ghosting it over his bottom lip.

“Are you going to call me an angel again?” he asks, pouting as soon as he voices the question. San wants to kiss that pout from his lips so badly, but he’s too mesmerized to do even that.

Wooyoung is not faring any better. Small constellations dance in his eyes as his finger traces a line from the corner of San’s mouth, over his cheek, before stopping behind his ear, where he gives a light scratch with the sweetest smile on his face. “I guess I am an angel,” he concludes, sliding a palm over San’s nape. “You make me believe in heaven every time we make love.”

San feels a pang in his heart. Is this what being hit with an arrow feels like? He crashes his lips onto Wooyoung’s, but the other man tugs at his hair and directs him toward his neck, arched like an invitation. To make sure he won’t bite, San instead whispers words of praise and admiration over the vulnerable skin, pretty much offering his heart on a platter and asking Wooyoung to hold it. He feels Wooyoung’s racing heartbeat under his tongue and wants to tune it to his own so that both their hearts will forever be in harmony.

The air feels a lot hotter than when San walked out of the bathroom, maybe because of their rushed breaths and impatient wines. Now that their hips are slotted together, he wastes no time seeking friction, to which Wooyoung eagerly responds, grinding his cock against San’s accordingly. It’s frantic, feverish—messy doesn’t even cut it. San wants to take the next step, but he’s waiting for—

“San-ah.”

There it is. That sweet, candy-coated voice that he would do anything for.

Wooyoung’s hand abandons his hair as he frantically searches through the sheets for the discarded bottle of lube. He pushes it against San’s chest as if it’s an offering, all the while pretty pleas trickle from his mouth with no signs of stopping.

San understands the desperation. He feels it in his heart, deep under his bones. His skin is on fire, and his cock is dripping precum on his lover’s stomach.

Finally, he shifts back, accepting the bottle of lube and almost immediately dropping it. He applies way too much of it, and now he’s very glad he brought that towel because otherwise the lube would have gotten everywhere at this point.

Wooyoung watches him slick himself, biting his bottom lip, right where his mole is. “You know what would feel better than your hand right about now?” he asks, lifting a leg to press his heel into the base of San’s spine in an attempt to draw him closer.

San humors him. He leans forward, pressing a hand into the mattress and angling his cock with Wooyoung’s inviting hole with the other. “Have some patience,” he says as he finally breaches him.

Even though Wooyoung is loose enough from fooling around earlier, San still pushes in slowly, relishing in every single reaction he draws from him—the way his muscles flex as he gets used to the intrusion, the gorgeous slant of his nose as he throws his head back, offering his neck and, by extension, a detailed map of his veins; his rosy lips as sinful moans roll off his tongue, and his disheveled long hair, begging to be pulled. San makes a mental note of this particular final observation and decides he will revisit it at a later time.

Finally, he’s fully sheathed. He will never get tired of this feeling, of the warm and pleasant sensation. It feels so welcoming. It feels like home.

“How do you want this?” San asks, peppering kisses over the column of Wooyoung’s neck. “Slow?”

Wooyoung licks his lips, considering. “At first, yeah. Bend me in two after, I don’t care. Show me that I’m yours.”

San hums over his pulse. “As you wish,” he agrees with a slow roll of his hips.

He starts off with languid movements so they can continue kissing for the time being. Their kisses match San’s imposed rhythm, and they’re only broken by the moans they share against each other’s mouths. They’re both so loud that, at some point, San can’t tell who’s making what sound. The excess of lube he used on himself in combination with Wooyoung’s already slicked hole fills the room with the filthiest squelching sounds, and it only gets worse as his hips ramp up in speed and intent. Wooyoung’s so warm inside, and San’s skin also feels as if it’s burning. Maybe their love burns so bright that it could engulf the entire world in flames if left unchecked.

In moments like these, it’s easy for San to tune out everything else and pretend Wooyoung is the center of his universe. He feels intoxicated, thrusting harder and harder just to hear that sweet, sweet voice call out his name, fully aware that he’s addicted to it.

They’re both naked, but Wooyoung has seen him in ways no one ever could. He knows the extent of San’s love, fears, anxieties, hopes, and dreams. He has learnt everything by standing by his side, observing him, peeling every shell of his soul before he ever peeled a piece of clothing from his body. The two of them had reached a level of intimacy way before they learnt how each other’s bodies react to certain touches, or before they had each other’s sensitive spots mapped out with their fingertips and lips.

Maybe Wooyoung was right. Maybe this is their heaven. Theirs. Nobody else’s.

Wooyoung moans. Loudly. He grips onto the pillow underneath his head once San angles their bodies better to brush past his prostate with every thrust, effectively folding him in two.

“Faster,” Wooyoung pleads, his voice so high that it’s threatening to give out. Good thing they don’t have any vocal recordings in their schedules for the time being. “Harder, too. Please.”

San heeds the command. He pushes Wooyoung’s legs by the back of his thighs even more, until they’re flush with his chest. Wooyoung said he doesn’t plan on wearing shorts soon, so San interprets this as permission to press his fingers into his meaty thighs, hard enough to leave traces of his fingertips behind.

In a failed attempt to capture Wooyoung’s mouth, San instead knocks their noses together. This prompts a small laugh from Wooyoung right before San slams in with one particular decisive thrust that pulls a moan so divine from his throat that San has to take a deep breath and briefly pause his movements so he won’t bust right then and there.

Wooyoung notices. Of course he does. He laughs again, more lighthearted than before, and says, “I’m close, too. Just a little bit more.”

San nods, unable to respond. A drop of sweat falls from his forehead onto Wooyoung’s cheek, like a tear. He wants to wipe it away, but he can’t bring himself to move even one hand from his boyfriend’s thighs. It’s as if they’re glued there. The skin there is so delicate, so perfect for kissing and touching. He never wants to let go.

Wooyoung lifts a trembling hand to brush the bangs from San’s forehead. The corners of his mouth are tugged upward, his mouth permanently open as he doesn’t want to keep any of his sounds caged inside his throat. He needs San to hear them, to know how good he makes him feel, how perfect he is…

It feels like deja vu.

Wooyoung’s hair keeps getting in his eyes as he’s getting fucked into the mattress, like he asked. He makes a weak gesture with his hand toward his stomach, and San immediately understands. As expected, Wooyoung closes his eyes with a long, pleased moan when San wraps a firm hand around his shaft, pumping it in rhythm with his hips. He’s close too. As soon as Wooyoung falls apart, San is going to follow right after.

When Wooyoung comes, his whole body tenses. His jaw drops as he lets out whine after whine that pushes San closer to the edge. San fucks him through his high, barely holding it together as Wooyoung throws his arms around him and clenches, hugging both his shoulders and cock so lovingly.

San finally follows with a choked out moan. He feels like he’s on fire as he’s riding out his orgasm, fucking his own cum as deep as he can inside his lover despite his erratic movements. It feels so fucking good, he wishes he could do this for hours on end, but Wooyoung’s pleased whines are slowly yet inevitably turning into whimpers as overstimulation settles in.

Reluctantly, San stops. Sweat drips down his brow and neck. He feels as if he ran a marathon. Once his vision clears out, he glances up to check on Wooyoung, who probably looks more wrecked than San does. His lips are red from biting and there’s sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead.

San pulls out, barely able to look away from the mess dripping from his boyfriend’s hole immediately after. He ignores the weak twitch in his cock as it still shows signs of interest. San would be more than down for round three, but he also needs to sleep tonight. A quick glance at his watch further solidifies that decision.

Wooyoung makes grabby hands at him, but he stops when he recalls that there’s cum all over his chest. “Clean me up so we can cuddle after?” he asks instead.

San is already reaching for the wet towel he left on the nearby chair. “Of course.”

 

 

When San exits the bathroom after cleaning the plug, he finds Wooyoung lost in a mess of sheets, hugging a small pillow to his chest. He has a leg thrown over the sheets, exposing the golden skin of his thigh and another one of the moles that dots his body. San doesn’t think he’s pretending to be asleep. When they were cuddling, he barely extricated himself from Wooyoung’s embrace to go to the bathroom because the other man almost fell asleep against his chest and wasn’t willing to let go of his human pillow.

He quickly puts on a pair of briefs and some sweats, sneaking glances at Wooyoung as he zips his suitcase in hopes of not waking him up. Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to be the case, so he heads for the bed, but not before turning off the lamp on the nightstand.

San doesn’t bother covering them up properly with the blanket. If Wooyoung was cold, he would have shuffled under it before falling asleep. His skin is hot to the touch when San presses his chest against his back and wraps an arm around his waist. Wooyoung usually exudes a lot of heat, and tonight is no exception. San doesn’t feel particularly cold either, so he’s more than happy to fall asleep by foregoing the blanket.

He presses a kiss on Wooyoung’s back, right over his tattoo, and wishes him good night. Wooyoung doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to.

 

🐈‍⬛

 

San groans when his back finally hits the bed.

His legs are about to give out. First week of dance schedules is over, only one more to go. GMF and comeback preparations, coupled up with some choreography tweaks for their upcoming European tour, are sucking the life out of him. December is pretty much booked for concert rehearsals since they’re caught up with comeback pre-recordings and performances throughout most of November, so to say that they are swamped with schedules is an understatement.

San barely finds enough willpower within himself to get up. He drags his feet toward his bathroom and turns the showerhead on, basking in the icy water that pours down on him in hopes of waking him up, but he knows he’s going to be sleeping like a log the moment his head hits the pillow.

As San drags his palms over his face, he hears the door open. There’s only one person who would use his bathroom except for him, let alone walk in while he’s showering, and sure enough, he makes out Wooyoung’s silhouette through the translucent glass.

“Mind if I join you?” Wooyoung asks, though he’s already slinging his shirt over his head.

“Be my guest,” San asks, tilting his chin up to have the shower spray right over his face. Wooyoung hates cold showers, so he adjusts the temperature.

The door slides open and then closes. With a sigh, Wooyoung wraps his arms around San’s middle and hugs him from behind. San places his palms over his boyfriend’s and hums in the form of a greeting.

“Hi,” Wooyoung replies, leaving a quick peck on San’s nape before reaching for the shower gel. Wordlessly, he squeezes some on his palm before putting it away and dragging it over San’s back and arms. A quick tug at his waist lets San know that he should turn around so that his chest will get the same treatment.

When Wooyoung’s hands slide dangerously low, San stops him by grabbing his wrists. “I can take it from here,” he says with a knowing smile.

Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at him. He reaches yet again for the bottle of shower gel. “Want me to wash your hair after?” he asks.

San can’t keep the small smile from forming on his lips. “Yes, please.”

Whenever Wooyoung plays with his hair, he feels like a burning candle, slowly melting. Wooyoung's fingers remind San of that as he scratches at his scalp. The shampoo smells of peaches, and some foam drips down San’s nape, but he feels the most peaceful he’s felt this entire week. Wooyoung switches the showerhead above in favor of the handle, carefully rinsing San’s hair.

San does the same for Wooyoung. His hair is so long now, it completely covers his nape. Combing his fingers through those long, soft strands is a hypnotizing experience for San, and he almost forgets what he’s supposed to do a couple times, but he blames that on his exhaustion.

He helps Wooyoung blow dry his hair when they’re out of the shower since San is done with his a lot sooner thanks to his much shorter haircut. Wooyoung sits on the closed toilet seat with his eyes closed, basking in the attention and care. Once San turns off the blow drier and sets it aside, Wooyoung beckons at him, and before San can do anything, he’s pulled into an embrace as Wooyoung rests his head on his boyfriend’s stomach.

A simple action can weigh as much as a thousand words. All San can do is smile and pet Wooyoung’s hair, hoping it’s not too obvious that his heart is bursting with affection.

 

 

“One more week,” Wooyoung announces when they’re finally in bed. The lamp on the nightstand is on, albeit on the lowest brightness settings, but it’s enough to light up his beautiful features.

San joins him on the bed and pulls him tighter against his chest. “And then we finally get a well-deserved break.” With a gentle touch, he moves some of the long strands at Wooyoung’s nape to leave a kiss right on the edge. “I missed you these days.”

“Mm, got used to having me in your bed every night, didn’t you?”

San makes a sad sound in his throat. He forgot what it felt like to not have Wooyoung’s body next to him every time he closes his eyes for the night. Even though they’ve been together for years, their level of codependency hasn’t changed much. Sometimes it’s dimmer, while other times it’s so intense that Wooyoung would even join San in his dreams. Seonghwa called their relationship a mutually healthy obsession, fueled by a fire that eternally rekindles itself instead of ever going out. San realizes that Seonghwa was right in his assumption. Not that he’s ever wrong about anything anyway.

“Sannie?”

San blinks. Wooyoung turns in his arms until they’re face to face and the tips of their noses are bumping.

“Want me to turn off the lamp?” Wooyoung offers.

“No, not yet.” Strangely, sleep seems to have escaped him at some point. “Can we talk for a bit longer? I missed hearing your voice.”

For the past two days, Wooyoung has been somewhat quiet. This is understandable considering their grueling schedule, but Wooyoung tends to go silent whenever he pushes himself. Dancing is what he prides himself the most with, so he will do everything in his power to always strive for the best performance on his part. Since it’s very easy for him to mess up while stressed, he has a tendency to shut himself off and focus only on the choreographer’s instructions and his reflection in the mirror. He still clung to San’s arm during breaks as they both lay on the cold floor of the practice room, but his replies to San’s questions only consisted of low hums and quick nods.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says. “You know how I get when I’m hyper focused.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, love.”

They smile. San moves his hand from Wooyoung’s waist to his hair, as if drawn there.

Wooyoung’s smile becomes wider. Brighter than all the stars in the universe. “You really like it, huh?”

“Yeah,” San instantly replies. “A lot.”

Wooyoung closes his eyes, lulled to sleep by San gingerly petting his hair. Still, his eyes remain crinkled at the edges, mirroring his fond smile. “More than my red hair? You really liked that one.”

San whispers, “You’re the most beautiful person in my eyes, no matter what your hair looks like.”

“You always tell me that,” Wooyoung replies with a giggle. “What if I went bald? Would you still love me?”

San blinks. Is this what it feels like to be hit below the belt? “Yes, of course, but… Why did you implant that image in my head? What if I have nightmares tonight?”

Wooyoung swiftly knees him in the thigh. “Shut up and keep petting my hair,” he says, shuffling closer.

San pulls him by the back of the head with a smile, slowly combing his fingers through his boyfriend’s long hair. It’s so soft, thank god the company doesn’t force them to dye their hair anymore. The smell of peaches makes San want to bury his nose in Wooyoung’s hair and… simply inhale until he loses himself in the intensity of the scent. He pulls himself even closer and does just that, expecting Wooyoung to scold him once again for supposedly wiping his nose on his hair, but that doesn’t happen. Wooyoung slings an arm over his waist and basks in the proximity with a pleased sigh.

 San also lets out a long exhale. He’s tired and wants nothing more than to sleep, but Wooyoung’s hair seems to pull him in a trance, one that is way more appetizing than unconsciousness. He’s not sure what makes him ask, “Can I braid your hair?”

He feels Wooyoung freeze next to him, his breath no longer tickling San’s neck. He pushes himself up on an elbow, watching San with wide eyes and an incredulous expression on his face.

“You’re serious,” Wooyoung says, his lips tugging upward. “Do you even know how to do that?”

San rolls his eyes. “Believe it or not, my sister made me do it to her when we were kids.” His hand flies back to Wooyoung’s hair, already missing the silky touch of his strands under his palm. “I think I still remember how to do it.”

Wooyoung watches him, holding in his laughter. “Prove it then.”

“Fine. Turn around.”

Seeing Wooyoung still eye him skeptically, he grabs him by the hips and spins him around until he has a clear view of his boyfriend’s hair. However, now that he’s here, he seems to be at a standstill. What should he do? Wooyoung’s hair is not that long, so it’s not like he could intertwine all of it into a nice single braid. His other option is to go for something smaller, but wouldn’t it look weird if he had a small braid in the middle of the back of his head?

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Wooyoung asks, tilting his head slightly. San doesn’t have to see him to know that he’s smirking.

“Patience,” he says instead as he adjusts Wooyoung’s posture. “I’m thinking.”

“Not your strongest suit. Ow!”

While Wooyoung rubs the spot where he was just elbowed in the ribs, San forces the brain cells that haven’t burnt out from the stress of the past few days into overtime. He doesn’t want to make himself more of a fool than he already is.

As he scratches behind Wooyoung’s ear, he gets an idea and, as soon as he repositions, gets to work. Surprisingly, braiding has remained ingrained in his muscle memory. Not like it’s difficult, but he hasn’t done it in almost twenty years. Wooyoung snickers at first, complaining that San is pulling his hair, but he goes quiet in no time, surely entranced by the slow and methodical touches to his hair.

It takes San a few tries until he gets it right. Unfortunately, he can’t tie the ends of the braid, so it’s at constant risk of getting untangled. He purses his lips as he ponders on the options. Unfortunately, he really doesn’t have a hair tie in his vicinity, or anywhere in his room, for that matter. He has a feeling Seonghwa will strangle him if he knocks on his door to ask for one. What if his hyung is already in bed, half asleep?

“I’m done,” he announces, brushing a thumb under Wooyoung’s eye to wake him up. Want to go check it out in the mirror?”

Wooyoung blinks lazily at him, like a cat would. He nods just as slowly. “Mhm.”

It’s obvious from his sluggish movements that he’s very tired, but he still humors San. He walks toward the mirror with hesitant steps, lightly touching the small braid behind his ear to see it better. Only after angling his head properly does he fully see it. It’s small, but it hangs nicely behind his right ear.

There’s that familiar smile, the one that lights up the whole room despite the weak orange light of the nightstand lamp. It makes San’s heart flutter, ready to burst at the seams. He wants to get up and hug the person who has kept his heart enamored for so many years already, but he knows Wooyoung will soon return to bed and, by extension, in his arms.

“It’s so cute,” Wooyoung coos, tapping the braid with his index finger. “I didn’t think you actually knew how to do it.”

San pouts. “You didn’t trust me.”

He’s exaggerating, but Wooyoung won’t have it. He shakes his head and turns off the lamp switch with a fleeting touch before lifting the blanket to climb over his boyfriend. Even in the dark, San can feel the intensity of Wooyoung’s gaze as he holds his face.

“I trust you with my life.” There’s a pause, followed by a kiss on the nose. “It’s so cute, I really love it.” Then another one on San’s lips. “Just like I love you.”

San feels his chest tighten. He’s too tired for sentimental talk, and he knows how that tends to end. They can hold on for one week without sex, right? Their three days off are so close.

Thankfully, Wooyoung seems to arrive at a similar conclusion. He rests his head on San’s chest, cushioned by his muscular pecs, but not before leaving one final kiss on his lips.

San’s arms wrap around Wooyoung’s shoulders out of instinct, but one hand still gravitates toward the other man’s hair.

“It’s probably gonna disentangle by tomorrow morning,” San says once he recognizes the shape of the braid with his fingertips.

“That’s okay,” Wooyoung answers. “You can remake it tomorrow night.”

San makes a small, satisfied sound at the back of his throat. “Does that mean you’re also sleeping here tomorrow?”

Wooyoung no longer replies. San watches his back rise and fall with every breath taken until he too falls asleep.

 

🐈‍⬛

 

The underground parking lot is devoid of life, save for one person. San approaches the man with enthusiastic steps, his smile wide behind the black face mask.

Wooyoung is rummaging through the trunk, trying to make space for their luggage. Among the clutter, San spots a black bag most likely filled with clothes. There’s a cooler box near Wooyoung’s feet, which he lifts once he deems the trunk organized enough.

“Want me to give you a hand?” San offers.

With a thud, the cooler is placed inside. Wooyoung shuffles it into a corner as he looks San up and down. “Where’s your stuff?”

San lifts the very light bag slung over his shoulder before letting go of it. “Here.”

“Unbelievable,” Wooyoung scoffs. “You know that the fans picked up on this, right?”

“Picked up on what exactly?”

“That you only have a bag when I’m not around.” Wooyoung lets out a small chuckle, clearly enjoying the slight shock on San’s face. “No matter. I packed some extra clothes for you.”

San smiles. “I knew you would. What’s in the cooler?”

“Food. Duh. I made some sandwiches in a hurry, we can eat them when we get there. I’ll cook us something simple in the evening and leave the more complex dishes for when I have more time. Put this on.”

San catches the beanie. Chrome Hearts. Not the same that Wooyoung is currently wearing, but he recognizes the design nonetheless.

He climbs into the passenger seat and takes off his bag to throw it in the backseat. There, he spots the familiar sling bag that contains Wooyoung’s beloved camera.

“I was wondering where that was,” San says when Wooyoung closes the car door behind him. Upon seeing his boyfriend’s confused look, San hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Your camera.”

Wooyoung nods with a faint smile on his lips. “Wouldn’t leave without it. I probably won’t have that much to photograph, but I want to take some pictures of us no matter what.”

With that, he slips his face mask on and adjusts his beanie. His long hair is tied at the back of his head into a small ponytail. San finds it cute, so cute that he has to restrain himself from touching it.

Soon, they’re out of the parking lot and onto the streets of Seoul.

 

 

“You know, I did say that the lodge is forty minutes away by car, but only after we make it out of the city.”

San glances over at the display clock. 4:31 PM. It’s Friday, so not only are people getting off work at this hour, some are also heading to hang out with their friends and families. The traffic seems endless, but Wooyoung resigns to their fate. He slumps into the driver’s seat, fiddling with his hoodie.

“At this pace, we’re gonna get there after 6 PM. That’s annoying.”

“How so?”

“I wanted to take a photo of the sunset,” Wooyoung whines. Even though his mouth is hidden by the mask, San can tell he’s pouting. He reaches over to squeeze Wooyoung’s thigh, watching his features soften from the care and attention.

Wooyoung looks at him. There’s a warning in his eyes, but the shadow of intrigue says that he’s enjoying the thrill of being touched there. “Keep that for when we’re out of the city. What if someone sees us?”

Deep down, San wishes he could claim Wooyoung as his for everyone to see, but that would spell out doom for both of them. Perhaps one day, in the distant future…

He retracts his hand, but only after giving a firm squeeze on the inside of Wooyoung’s thigh.

Wooyoung nods, probably smiling sadly behind his mask. Chances are, he’s having similar thoughts. “Once we’re at the lodge, you can touch all you want. It will be just us.”

“That’s all I can think about. I wish we could fly over all this traffic.”

“You do know you’re not gonna fuck me the second we walk into the lodge, right?” Wooyoung asks with a wiggle of his brows. “I have plans for tonight.”

Intrigued, San raises an eyebrow. “Other than the skirt?”

“Other than the skirt,” Wooyoung says slowly, leaning into San’s space.

The car in front of them moves, so Wooyoung quickly snaps out of it and focuses his attention on the road. “Okay, maybe we won’t make it there in the dead of night.”

San scoffs. “I sure hope not.”

His brain remains focused on what Wooyoung just told him even after they start making their way through the sea of cars. His boyfriend’s plans include stuff other than the skirt? He wishes he knew more, but getting any additional details from Wooyoung is borderline impossible. Getting to the lodge is another test of patience, one that San knows he will fail the moment the door will close behind them.

He still feels a little stiff from the backbreaking choreography rehearsals, but yesterday wasn’t so bad, and today they only had to shoot a short video for their Youtube channel in the morning. Still, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, though he’s not very successful. He can’t afford to be sleepy for the next three days, even though he deserves to sleep for an entire week after all the calories he burnt.

San wants to make the most of this mini-vacation, to spend as much time as he can with the person he loves before comeback season is in full swing, when they’ll probably mostly see each other during schedules and performances.

Or maybe he can make an effort to slip into Wooyoung’s dorm like his boyfriend has been doing this entire month. Not for sex, but just to breathe the same air, to fall asleep in each other’s arms, and to play with his boyfriend’s hair. Once San gets back to his room after an exhausting day, he usually eats, showers, does his nighttime routine, and then he’s out like a light the second his head hits the pillow. It’s the same for everyone in their group, but Wooyoung still went out of his way to be as much in San’s proximity as he could this month. He really missed San lately.

San feels warm all over.

“What’s on your mind?” Wooyoung asks, throwing him a quick glance before returning his attention to the road.

“Not much,” San lies. He decides he’ll ask Wooyoung about his extra levels of clinginess later. “We practiced those damn songs so much, I think I dreamt the choreography for one last night.”

Wooyoung lets out a short laugh. “Gosh, don’t remind me. I’m convinced the company gave us these days off to make up for that nightmare of a schedule. After all, they have to get in our good books before contract renewal, no?”

“Or maybe they gave us that hellish schedule because they knew we’d have those three days off.”

Wooyoung nods after a short pause. “I can see them do that.”

 

 

San doesn’t remember falling asleep, but his neck cramps a bit when Wooyoung taps his wrist gently to wake him up. The sky is a dark shade of blue, the sign that nightfall is close.

“We’re here,” Wooyoung says. “Well, not exactly. See that guy over there? I need to chat with him for a bit. Give me your ID.”

San blinks, still groggy from his nap. He’s not sure how long he slept for, but judging by his stiff neck, it was a while. Too bad he still feels as tired as before, if not worse.

Wooyoung doesn’t wait for his brain to properly boot up. He fishes the wallet from San’s pocket and takes out his ID card, getting out of the car before San can ask him why he even needs that. He glances outside and spots a man in uniform walking out of a small house. Behind him, walls tower over, and a wide iron gate blocks the road. San watches Wooyoung approach the man and bow slightly before handing over San’s ID card and his own, as well as showing something on his phone.

The man thoroughly inspects everything, scanning something on Wooyoung’s phone with a small device he unhooks from where it dangles at his belt. After he throws a look to San in the car, he nods and returns the cards to Wooyoung with a smile. They shake hands, and Wooyoung is back in the car with a smirk.

“Here you go.” He hands the card back to San before putting his seatbelt back on.

San slips his ID back in his wallet. “What did you just do?”

The gate in front of them opens with a slight screech, making San look up. The car slowly makes its way forward.

Wooyoung places his hand back on the steering wheel. “Used a referral. Digitalized, of course. You don’t get in without one. Think of this place as a private neighborhood for rich people. Mostly villas and summer houses around. This whole area is not open to the public, so only authorized people are allowed in.”

San glimpses around, taking in the luxurious houses around. There don’t seem to be that many though.

“Place looks deserted,” San says under his breath, noticing that most of the house lights aren’t even on.

“Duh. It’s late October in a neighborhood of summer villas. Doubt there’s a lot of people living here at the moment. They’re probably all the way back to Seoul, or maybe they already moved to winter lodges,” Wooyoung says with a scoff.

“I see.” San slides a hand up Wooyoung’s thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. “I take it we have all the privacy in the world?”

He watches Wooyoung’s gaze flicker down briefly before looking back on the road. “Pretty much.”

“Good.”

San leans back into his seat. As much as he wants to move his hand higher and grope properly, he also doesn’t want Wooyoung to drive them straight into a fence just as they’re about to finally start their well-deserved break.

All that self-imposed control goes out the window the moment they make it inside. San carefully places the cooler on the floor, waiting for Wooyoung to turn the key in the lock. His boyfriend barely reacts in time, letting the bag of clothes fall on the floor with a thud as San crowds him against the door, capturing his lips as if he forgot their taste and shape.

For a while, Wooyoung indulges him. He lets out a hum when San’s tongue begins its familiar dance inside his mouth and clutches a handful of hair, a punishment for San’s misbehaving, as well as a blessing for himself. He also wants San closer, he also missed him, and he also couldn’t wait until they were finally alone.

However, he doesn’t indulge in this pleasure for too long. Wooyoung cuts their rushed kisses short when he plants both palms on San’s chest and pushes him away in a gentle yet decisive manner.

“You’re crushing my camera,” he declares with a pout. Indeed, Wooyoung has his sling bag containing his camera hanging from his neck. It was somewhat uncomfortable kissing him with it in the way, but San almost paid it no mind, too hypnotized by Wooyoung’s mouth. He made sure he wouldn’t damage it of course, but his brain was just foggy with thoughts of Wooyoung’s lips, tongue, and skin.

Reluctantly, he pushes away from Wooyoung, though his palms remain firmly pressed on the door, caging Wooyoung’s head.

San lightly bumps his nose against his boyfriend’s. “How long are you going to keep me waiting?”

Wooyoung chuckles, watching him with love in his eyes. “You lasted two weeks without sticking your dick inside me, I think you can hold on for a couple more hours.”

Just as San opens his mouth, Wooyoung’s stomach growls loudly, rendering him silent. Wooyoung blushes in embarrassment and finally slips away from being sandwiched between San and the door, lifting the bag of clothes from the floor as he steps away.

San gently grabs his wrist and turns him around, taking in the slight surprise on Wooyoung’s eyes as he pretty much twirls in his arms.

“Let me unpack,” San offers. “You go eat something. Please tell me you had breakfast at least.”

“Yes, honey,” Wooyoung replies, sticking his tongue at him. “I just lost track of time while packing. Let me take care of these and then I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

San doesn’t loosen his grip on the bag. “Jagi, I can handle this. Go eat. You must be tired.”

He pecks Wooyoung’s lips. Although the other man smiles, he doesn’t yield. His mouth is inches away from San’s as he whispers, “I have a surprise for you in here, and I’m not gonna let you spoil yourself.”

With that, San lets go of the bag, much to Wooyoung’s satisfaction. “Is it the skirt?”

“Yes and no,” Wooyoung murmurs next to his lips with a smirk. He plants a kiss laden with promises against the corner of San’s mouth before heading up the stairs, probably toward the master bedroom. “Put all the meat in the freezer. Except for the pork. I’m cooking that later.”

“Sure,” San replies, reaching for the cooler on the floor.

He has a hunch about Wooyoung’s surprise, but he doesn’t want to dwell too much on it. After all, spoiling himself mere hours before the big revelation is counterproductive.

The lodge is spacious, though it’s not as big as others San saw on the way. He counted four bedrooms, though Wooyoung barred him from entering the biggest one despite San’s promises that he won’t snoop through their luggage to ruin the surprise.

The place is nicely furnished, mostly minimalistic style. It lacks personality, but that makes sense, considering the owner only uses this place as a private party venue, based on what Wooyoung said. For the most part, no one lives here. While Wooyoung is in the master bedroom doing god knows what, San busies himself inspecting the kitchen, overwhelmed by the amount of glasses populating the cupboards.

“I imagine there used to be a lot more before people smashed a considerable amount of them on the floor,” Wooyoung chimes in, hugging San from behind.

They eat the sandwiches Wooyoung prepared before they left their dorms and, once they’re done, Wooyoung takes out a small white box from the fridge. San noticed it when he unpacked earlier, but as much as he wanted to peek inside, he didn’t, assuming it’s another one of Wooyoung’s surprises.

It turns out he was right. It’s a small fluffy cake, dusted with coconut flakes and crowned with a candied cherry.

“This isn’t included in our diet,” San teases.

“Well, then it’s a good thing our managers aren’t here to see us, hm?” Wooyoung replies, flashing a fox-like grin as he feeds San the cherry on the cake.

San willingly accepts it, plucking the cherry from its steam with his teeth. He doesn’t miss the shadow passing over Wooyoung’s face, how a bone moves at his jaw right before he looks away, suddenly very focused on cutting the cake in half.

But San can be a menace at times. After all, he learnt from the very best. He sticks his finger in the frosting of the cake, coating it in as much cream as he can, before bringing it to his lips and sucking on it. Slowly. It’s not the action itself that makes Wooyoung look up and freeze—San is sure he looks silly to some extent—but the way his eyes are watching the man in front of him—under the eyelashes, with a somewhat indifferent attitude, but his gaze tells a different story. He knows how to capture people’s attention with his intense stare, how to melt someone just by looking at them in a very specific way. He’s spent years polishing this skill, and Wooyoung has been the main target over the years.

This is a double-edged sword. Wooyoung snaps out of it and flicks some cream off the cake’s frosting onto San’s face, which lands right on his nose.

“Eat your fucking cake,” Wooyoung warns, pointing a fork at him.

San wipes the frosting off his nose. He takes a bite, still eyeing his boyfriend with a shadow of that gaze that always brings him to his knees. “What are you gonna do if I don’t? At the end of the day, you’re still gonna beg me to fill you up.”

Wooyoung watches him in return, slowly chewing on his own piece of cake. He can definitely play this game too. After all, he’s much better at enticing San, so much that San would eat out of his hand If Wooyoung wanted that from him.

But no. From the look of lust mixed with interest on his face, this is not the game they will be playing tonight. Wooyoung twirls the fork in his hand for a few seconds before stabbing the cake with it.

“Keep that attitude for later, will you?” he asks, swallowing hard.

San can’t stop the smirk from taking over his face. “If you want something specific for tonight, you should tell me now. So I know what to prepare.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Must I really spell it out for you?”

Of course he does. San makes it obvious in the way he rhythmically taps his plastic fork on the table, unblinking eyes still glued to Wooyoung’s.

Finally, his boyfriend caves in. Not like he put up much of a fight, anyway. “Dom me,” Wooyoung says, looking away as he bites into his last piece of cake. Sensing that San is still watching him, he turns in his direction with a frown. “Happy?”

San brings his fork to his lips to lick it clean. “Quite.”

“Good. Glad we cleared that up.”

Wooyoung gets up. Slowly, he makes it to San’s side, tilting his chin up with the pad of his index finger. “I’ll go upstairs to get ready and text you when I’m done. Okay?”

San blinks at him, trying to not let the satisfaction stirring inside his chest seep into his features. “Okay.”

 

 

Wooyoung is taking his sweet time.

San stopped checking his phone when he walked into the shower on the first floor bathroom, letting his boyfriend have the entire upstairs area for himself. He loses track of time as he basks in the cold water falling on his face from the showerhead above. It feels good to not feel pressured by tight schedules, to take his time and simply enjoy the water slowly washing away the soap.

San spots the very obvious bags under his eyes after he wipes the steam off the mirror with a towel. As much as he wants to check his phone to see if Wooyoung texted him, he knows his boyfriend is intentionally dragging things out just to make San want him even more, as if that’s even possible at this point. But, somehow, it is, and they both know it.

San brushes his teeth, trying to keep his wild thoughts at bay, but to no avail. He keeps picturing Wooyoung under him, his lips red from biting, red enough to match the blush toning his skin, his chest rising and falling with rushed breaths, his nails clinging onto San’s beck until they leave very obvious marks…

Enough. He can feel invisible strings wind around his shoulders from how much influence Wooyoung has over him. Not like he doesn’t enjoy it—most of the time, he’d get on his knees the second the command left Wooyoung’s lips—but he has a very concrete idea of what Wooyoung wants from him tonight, and he wants to drag it out for as long as he can. They might not keep at it until morning, but San has no plans to go to sleep early tonight, and he’s willing to bet that Wooyoung thinks the same.

Finally, he sprays some cologne on his neck, right under his jaw and below his ear. With the pad of his finger, he applies some cream under his eyes, hoping it’s enough to make his bags less noticeable. He knows Wooyoung is planning to have the camera on him a lot in the following days, but even though those pictures won’t see the light of day outside of their families, he doesn’t want to appear like a zombie in them.

When the phone perched on the corner of the sink finally buzzes with a notification, San’s heart plummets into his stomach. Reluctantly, he tries resuming his task to remain calm, nonchalant even, but he’s fooling himself. As much as he wants to take his time and apply the cream properly, his fingertips are buzzing with anticipation to unlock his phone and check the texts properly, or even beeline it to the second floor.

Somehow, rationality wins over lust. San maintains his vision focused on his reflection, carefully massaging the cream on his skin, but his phone keeps lighting up, begging for his attention. A quick glance in its direction shows an incoming spam of black cat emojis plaguing the screen, which prompts an amused scoff from him.

Oh, so Wooyoung can keep him waiting, but if San doesn’t jump in his lap the second he’s given the green light, then he starts whining and kicking his feet in frustration? Typical, but nonetheless cute. San will probably never tire of the little games they play.

After he closes the lid on the bottle of cream, he looks in the mirror. Suddenly, he feels self-conscious. Not because of his hair (he’s combed it carefully so that it would cover his forehead in even strands) or his appearance (the outlines of his shoulders are enough to make Wooyoung’s mouth water on a good day, even though this is somewhat torture for his boyfriend since they usually can’t leave marks), but his outfit could be better. Wooyoung definitely dolled up to look all pretty for him, while San sports a… black sleeveless top and some gray sweats.

His phone buzzes one more time on the edge of the sink, reminding San that he’s on a mission. He leaves it there and heads for the stairs, his worries long forgotten as soon as he remembers that he’ll soon strip off his clothes anyway.

Once San is in front of the door of what he assumes to be the master bedroom, he gives it a light knock. Wooyoung welcomes him in with a warm voice, but when San walks in, he doesn’t see his boyfriend anywhere.

Well, he’s not supposed to. Hands reach out from behind him to cover his eyes. Warm breaths tickle his nape, too.

“Took you long enough,” Wooyoung says in his typical sultry voice reserved for such special occasions.

“Could say the same about you,” San counters. “I take it I should keep my eyes closed for now?”

There’s a pleasant tone to Wooyoung’s voice when he whispers, “Smart kitty.”

San shuts his eyes and doesn’t even think of peering through them. Anticipation already made its way under his skin hours, days, even weeks before this very moment, but now, it’s in full bloom. He can feel his fingertips buzzing with the desire to touch Wooyoung’s skin, seeking the familiar warmth. Every instinct in his body is telling him to turn around and run his palms over Wooyoung’s sides, but he wasn’t given permission to do that just yet.

There’s that well-known chuckle resonating from behind him, one that San has learnt by heart after all these years—sassy, borderline mocking him, laden with unspoken desires. Wooyoung moves around him wordlessly, seemingly light as a father, until he’s standing right in front of San. Warm palms seek his face, framing it and thumbing at his cheeks.

“Don’t open your eyes just yet,” he whispers, clearly enjoying the show he’s orchestrating. “Want to take a guess what I’m wearing? No no, don’t speak yet,” he adds in a rush, sealing San’s lips with a firm press of his index finger as soon as he opens them. He gets closer, close enough until the tip of his nose bumps into San’s jaw, and whispers in his ear, “Use your hands. Touch me.”

San licks his lips with a scheming smile that surely matches Wooyoung’s. “What if I guess wrong? Will you punish me, Woo-ya?”

Wooyoung’s palms drop to his neck, squeezing lightly. “Don’t mess with me, Sannie,” he warns. “We can play your game tomorrow, but we agreed on you taking the reins tonight, not the other way around, didn’t we?”

“Oh, but didn’t you get hot and bothered the moment you thought I wasn’t gonna play by your rules?” San replies with a low chuckle as he finally allows his palms to rest on Wooyoung’s hips. “I don’t need to have my hand between your legs to know your cock sprung with interest the second my question left my lips, hmm, Young-ah?”

“Demon,” Wooyoung retorts, swallowing hard enough for San to hear it. There’s a pause. “Why aren’t you doing anything? Whatever happened to you being as handsy as a raccoon?”

“I was never one,” San retorts, his voice still low and raspy, hands still glued to Wooyoung’s hips as he feels up the leather belts holding up what he believes to be the skirt Wooyoung has kept a secret from him for over two weeks.

It won’t be a secret for much longer.

San continues. “I’ll touch you. But no one is breathing down our necks, right?”

He feels Wooyoung tense up under his touch. “Sannie—”

But San only tightens his grip. “No managers, no schedules, no hyungs ready to scold us because they can hear us through walls… We have all the time in the world, right? Wooyoung-ah?” And then, with the widest grin he can muster, he whispers in Wooyoung’s ear, “An eye for an eye.”

Wooyoung makes a weak sound in his throat, no doubt trying to suppress the inevitable whine bubbling in his chest. If San didn’t know better, he would think Wooyoung is having regrets about keeping him waiting. On the contrary, Wooyoung is very much enjoying every second of this.

San takes to massaging his boyfriend’s sides, slowly, meticulously even. He traces his palms up until he feels Wooyoung’s ribs under his touch before going back down again, where he drags a thumb across one of the leather belts holding the skirt tight around Wooyoung’s waist. The skirt is definitely different from the one they used in the past, but the material of the top feels somewhat familiar. Too bad San can’t quite exactly put his finger on it (well, he very much can do exactly that, but he can’t recognize it by touch alone. He’s usually too focused on undressing Wooyoung to memorize every fabric of his clothes.)

Speak of the devil, he’s not having any of it. San can picture his pout as clear as day when he starts whining. “Sannieeeee, you’re gonna keep me up all night. I wanna have a proper meal before bed, you know~”

“Then you should have thought about that before making me wait for an hour and a half,” San says under his breath, finally letting his palms reach lower to determine the length of the skirt.

It ends above the knees, probably right where the tattoo is. Definitely longer than the mini skirt they drenched in cum all those years ago. And speaking of which…

“I really hope this isn’t designer,” San says, hoping Wooyoung isn’t mad enough to ruin a skirt that is worth several millions of won.

Wooyoung’s laugh is short, but nonetheless genuine. “It’s not, but that doesn’t mean I intend to turn it into a rag. Try not to rip it once you get your hands on it, mkay?”

“Will try my best,” San coos, even though his promise amounts to nothing.

He wastes no time slipping his palms underneath, squeezing Wooyoung’s muscular thighs on both sides. His destination is clear, and he doesn’t need the small moan pulled from his boyfriend’s mouth to announce it. Using Wooyoung’s cheeks as stress balls never really works because things always go one way or the other; either they fuck, or Wooyoung pushes him away because he knows how it will end and he can’t afford to walk with a limp in the foreseeable future. San wishes he could do it more, but there’s a lot of things he wants, especially when it comes to Wooyoung. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to get them. Most of them are out of his control.

San is glad his train of thoughts snaps. Overthinking and sex don’t go well hand in hand, he’s aware of that. But this is not a voluntary decision. As he brushes his hands over the soft skin of Wooyoung’s ass, claiming it as his own with the sharp pressure of his nails, his fingers slip under a material that is rather unfamiliar to him, or Wooyoung, for that matter. Initially, San thought his boyfriend wasn’t wearing anything under the skirt, but here he is, being proven wrong. For the first time since walking through that door, San feels his breath halt in his throat and his body freeze in place.

Of course, Wooyoung takes notice immediately and doesn’t miss a beat to gain the upper hand, at least momentarily. “You like it?” he asks, his voice sounding closer than earlier.

San can easily picture in his mind Wooyoung leaning forward with his lips slightly parted and vixen eyes. Oddly enough, he can barely find his voice. “Wooyoung, what is this?”

“Guess.”

There it is, that smug attitude surfacing again. Some part of San wants to hurry up and fuck it out of Wooyoung as soon as possible, but he has his principles bolted in place. This is simply yet another one of their cat and mouse games, but the lines have gotten so blurry over the years that he’s unsure who’s who anymore. Nonetheless, his shock is still palpable, so he tries to mask it with his growing intrigue.

“Is this lace?”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah,” San breathes out. “I never thought I’d see you in something like this.”

Wooyoung scoffs, looping his arms around San’s neck. “I decided to test the waters. See if I like it.”

“And?”

“Gonna be honest, not the biggest fan of how the material feels around my dick. However, I have an idea on how to make this interesting.” He gets closer, dangerously close, his breath hot over San’s lips. “It’s not designer, so you have my permission to rip it if you want. Actually, I encourage you.”

San doesn’t even get to gasp in response when Wooyoung grabs his wrist and centers it over his ass, where his hole should be.

“But first, you missed the most important part.”

San has to stop himself from opening his eyes out of shock. Against his better judgment, he wraps his hand around the fluffy tail and pulls.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Wooyoung cries out in shock. “Has no one told you that it’s rude to pull a cat’s tail?”

“You…” San finds himself chuckling as he carefully pushes the plug back in. Thankfully, he didn’t pull it out completely. “I was expecting cat ears, but I see you went all-out.”

“I also have cat ears, just so you know,” Wooyoung scolds him, but he sounds too cute to intimidate San even in the slightest.

As much as San hates removing his other hand from Wooyoung’s ass, he brings it up to his boyfriend’s hair and, sure enough, he feels the fuzzy material of cat ears, familiar to his touch after having to wear countless over the years during fansigns.

Wooyoung sighs. “You are terrible at this game. Must I tell you everything?”

San stops fidgeting with the cat ears. He leans forward until he feels Wooyoung’s breath ghost over his lips and murmurs, “I think there’s no use for words anymore, Young-ah.”

Wooyoung, thankfully, doesn’t stop San from crushing their lips together. In his mind, San pats himself on the back for not missing completely before allowing himself to melt into the kiss, sweet and tantalizing at first, but inevitably becoming riddled with spit, fueled by hunger and lust.

One of San’s hands is in Wooyoung’s hair, pulling at the ends, the other on the small of his back to keep him close. San quickly abandons every inhibition he has kept under lock and key for the past two weeks—no, for the past few months even. Tonight, he will give himself fully to Wooyoung. There will be no holding back whatsoever.

He crowds into Wooyoung’s space, breathing him in, running his hand all over his back while trying not to pull too hard at his hair—at least, not yet. That will come later. At first, San thinks he’s pushing Wooyoung toward the bed, but Wooyoung lets out a gasp when the back of his thighs hits something. San’s hands fly to grip its edges. It’s a… table? No, too small, and Wooyoung knocks over a lamp as he properly climbs onto it. A nightstand, then.

But Wooyoung doesn’t let San think anymore because he grabs him by the hair and seals their mouths together with vehemence. It’s so easy to get lost in the little bits of pleasure left by Wooyoung’s tongue as he licks into San’s mouth, but San reminds himself that he’s on a mission he can’t fail.

He takes the lead, pushing against Wooyoung’s tongue until his boyfriend’s head hits the wall behind him with a thud and a moan. San’s palms move from gripping the nightstand’s edges to Wooyoung’s knees and then higher, slowly hiking up his thighs, spreading his legs apart to make room for himself, all the while swallowing every small moan and gasp from Wooyoung’s mouth. San barely got his hands on him, but he can already feel his cheeks burn and his cock wake up with interest.

Above all things, though, he wants to see just how good Wooyoung looks at the moment.

San pulls away when their kisses and his touches become too intense. Deep breaths. His grip lessens on Wooyoung’s thighs. When his eyes flutter open, the first thing he sees is purple—purple and black plaid, to be exact. The pleated skirt feels soft to the touch, crumpling as San pushes it higher and higher, revealing the familiar ink on Wooyoung’s right thigh. His eyes scan higher, where he spots the two black leather belts, the ones he touched earlier, hugging Wooyoung’s waist. Wooyoung’s chest is somewhat revealed by a V-cut shirt—no, it’s a black blouse with flowy sleeves, the same one he wore when he crashed at San’s hotel room in Japan. So that’s why it felt familiar.

San’s heart skips a beat when his eyes fall on Wooyoung’s neck. Tentatively, he wraps a hand around the black thin leash hanging from the collar and pulls.

With a gasp, Wooyoung lets San pull him closer, his neck arching beautifully as he watches his boyfriend through hooded eyes. “Knew you’d like it,” he says, darting his tongue over his top lip.

He looks breathtakingly gorgeous with his golden skin dusted pink. His bangs fall in his eyes, kept even by hair spray, while his long hair elegantly hugs his neck, evidence that Wooyoung spent a lot of time styling it. But his cheeks are dusted pink with something other than natural blush, his lips are tinged with red that isn’t a result from biting hard enough to draw blood (yet), and also…

“Nice eyeliner,” San compliments him. It’s only on Wooyoung’s lower eyelid, but it’s a nice addition that makes him even more irresistible than he already is.

Even though San’s hunger grows with every passing second, with some herculean effort he stops himself from devouring Wooyoung’s appetizing thighs just to admire his face a bit more. He’s never looked prettier, and this says a lot coming from San, who always sees Wooyoung as perfect no matter his imperfections.

Oh, San hasn’t been this turned on in a very long time.

Wooyoung has the audacity to smirk at him, as he tends to do whenever he brings San to his knees, literally or not. “Cat got your tongue?” he teases.

“In more ways than one,” San says before ducking his head to mouth at Wooyoung’s thighs.

Kissing and licking Wooyoung’s thighs can only be described as a divine experience. Sinking his teeth into the skin and leaving lasting bruises until he feels copper on his tongue is like getting a taste for the gods’ nectar. But San can’t leave hickeys, not here. It’s too close to the knee. As much as they can cover some marks themselves or even ask some trusted makeup artists to do it for them, it’s not worth taking the risk. Comeback is right around the corner, and they won’t only get to work with the company’s makeup artists and stylists. Even with NDAs, it’s better to avoid awkward situations that might get people gossiping in their circles.

Fuck, San wants to ruin Wooyoung so bad, but he knows that their careers can plummet just because of something as inconsequential as love bites. Therefore, his desire to write his name on Wooyoung’s skin in the form of bruises will have to wait for a more opportune time. He will always trade fleeting moments of euphoria and satisfaction so that they can continue performing on the same stage together for many years to come. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

But this doesn’t mean he can’t bite at all. Slowly, he makes his way up Wooyoung’s thigh while restless long fingers tug at his hair, ghosting his tongue over the inked words as he peeks up through his eyelashes at Wooyoung, who’s watching him with his mouth slightly open and pupils blown out.

In response, San squeezes his other thigh, not hard enough to leave marks, but enough to send a message.

“Sannie,” Wooyoung starts, but his words get cut short the moment San starts mouthing higher and biting.

The skin on Wooyoung’s upper thigh is plumper, softer, and much easier to bruise. It isn’t San’s favorite area to mark, but it’s the only one he can safely sink his teeth in for the most part. He still has nightmares about that pair of jeans riddled with more holes than he could count that the stylist for Cosmopolitan had Wooyoung wear, but thankfully his boyfriend wore long boxers that covered anything incriminating. The only negative aspect about this patch of skin is that it’s not enough for San to mark. He’s greedy and gets drunk so easily on kissing and biting Wooyoung that he can’t help but always crave more.

San is insatiable, but he knows Wooyoung shares his vision. He can tell from the small needy gasps that he also wants more, a shower of hickeys if possible. He wants a necklace of them, a trail on his thigh, bruises sucked on his hipbone… Their greed knows no bounds, just like the love they share.

With his teeth, San pulls at the lace underwear—also purple, damn Wooyoung. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make Wooyoung thrash and whine as the material drags over his half-hard cock, which happens to be so close to San’s face, he can easily bump the tip of his nose against it.

He doesn’t do that. Instead, he mouths at the corner of the underwear, teasing with his teeth ever so slightly before he drags his lips over Wooyoung’s cock over the fabric. Immediately, the grip on his hair tightens as Wooyoung cages him with his thighs, ankles interlocked behind San’s back.

When Wooyoung calls his name, he does it with urgency. “San-ah, take me to bed.”

Not having to be told twice, San detaches his lips from the lace and hooks his palms under Wooyoung’s thighs, lifting him up in his arms. His boyfriend wraps his arms around his neck, though he lets his legs dangle in San’s grip, trusting that San will not drop him.

There is little to no distance between the nightstand and the bed, but San takes his sweet time walking there as he gets lost in the taste of Wooyoung’s velvety lips, the lipstick he used making the slide smoother, helped by the spit dripping from their tongues.

Finally, San’s calves hit the mattress. He drops Wooyoung on the bed gently, following right after, unwilling to give up on the other man’s lips even as he settles between his legs. Wooyoung is tugging at his hair while he makes the cutest whines in his throat. San pulls away, ready to shuffle back and sit more comfortably between Wooyoung’s legs, but surprisingly, he gets beckoned close. Noticing the fire in his boyfriend’s eyes, he can only obey.

Having his palms splayed over Wooyoung’s chest and straddling his ribs, he feels fully exposed to the fiery gaze of the man that seems to melt through his clothes. Long fingers tug at the hem of his top so that sweaty palms can sneak their way under, higher and higher until they expose his hard nipples.

With one hand, San pulls the top over his head, not even sparing it a glance. He’s too focused on the way Wooyoung is watching him as he maps his chest, fingers pausing over hard, defined muscle.

“Do you have any idea just how much I want to touch you when I see you walk around shirtless?” Wooyoung asks, squeezing San’s left pec with one hand and tracing the ridges of his abs with the other.

“Is that why it’s almost impossible for you not to try to kiss me in plain sight? Because all of your energy goes to not groping me when I show skin?”

Wooyoung shrugs. “I think that’s a fair trade. You’re so irresistible sometimes, it’s hard for me to think of something other than running my hands all over you and claiming you for myself.”

“You have me already, Young-ah.”

“I do. I just wish we could do this more often. Now.” Wooyoung pushes against San’s chest and spreads his legs, instructing him to move back where he belongs. “Care to fuck me hard enough so I can hold back on salivating whenever you show your tits to the camera in the near future?”

San watches him, his expression impassive but his cock hard in his sweats. “Let this be a reminder for later that you asked for this.”

Finally, he settles properly between Wooyoung’s legs. As he runs his hands down Wooyoung’s knees and thighs, he pushes the skirt that is already pooling around the man’s waist higher, its folds spreading in waves over Wooyoung’s tummy. Something in particular catches San’s eye when he peers down—Wooyoung’s throbbing red cock already smearing the purple lace. It begs to be freed, but San has no such plans to touch it for the time being.

“Turn around,” he tells Wooyoung, who, despite voicing his desire to be made one with the mattress not even a minute ago, does as he’s commanded as if he’s moving through water—slowly, carefree, with a very obvious wiggle of his butt as he watches San over his shoulder.

San smacks his ass. Hard, but not hard enough to make Wooyoung cry. Yet. He still moans, his shoulders shaking from the impact as he folds his arms underneath a pillow. His back tattoo peeks over the collar of the blouse, the rest of his neck concealed by his beautiful long hair. As much as San wants to comb his fingers through the soft strands, he’s currently busy imprinting the outline of his hand on Wooyoung’s ass, watching his frame squirm with every slap.

Like the demon that he is, Wooyoung arches his back, asking for more as the tail plug swings and jumps every time San’s palm collides with his ass. It seems that Wooyoung dragged the panties to the side to make sure he can wear both the plug and the lace underwear, though that can’t exactly be comfortable. San wants to rip them in two.

Wooyoung is still looking at him over his shoulder, small sounds leaving his lips in tandem with the pleasant abuse his ass is being subjected to. There’s no need for words. San knows Wooyoung will want this to go on until the skin starts buzzing under San’s palm, until there’s tears in his eyes.

Sure enough, there’s the telltale streaks on his cheek that he tries so pitifully to hide by burying his head into the pillow below. Too bad that won’t help him in the slightest.

“Already?” San asks, gripping the red skin that feels warm under his touch. He leans down to drag his tongue over it, knowing how sensitive Wooyoung must feel.

Wooyoung whines, lightly thrashing around. The tail swings like a pendulum, but he’s not pulling back.

San kisses the red skin—an apology, though not a sincere one—before opening his mouth again. “What happened, Young-ah? I don’t spank you for a few months and you start crying when I’m just getting started?”

“’M not crying,” Wooyoung huffs, his brows furrowed menacingly. Too bad he looks so damn cute while doing it. “You were just—too harsh.”

“Just the way you like it, sweetheart,” San muses, dragging his fingers gingerly over the patch of red skin as if to soothe it. With his other hand, he kneads the soft flesh of Wooyoung’s other cheek that is yet to be blemished, emphasis on yet. “You’re going to ruin your makeup, you know?”

“Why do you think I spent so much time on it? Even poked myself in the eye at some point.” Wooyoung sighs, dropping his forehead into the pillow as he pushes his ass back into San’s grip. “I’m the one with cat ears and a tail, not you, so stop making biscuits on my butt and fuck me already.”

San tilts his head to the side. “Should I? Do you deserve it?”

Wooyoung scrambles on his elbows, confusion written on his face. “Huh?”

“Come on love, you know what I’m going to say next,” San continues, pushing Wooyoung back down by the nape until his chest is flush with the mattress. Wooyoung, thankfully, gets the notice and doesn’t try to get back up when San retracts his hand and moves it lower, fingers tracing his spine over the blouse. He lifts Wooyoung’s skirt even higher and gives two taps to the silicone plug. “Did you fuck yourself with this earlier?”

Silence except for Wooyoung’s staggered breaths. “San—”

“I asked you a question,” San counters, pressing his nails on Wooyoung's ass cheek, right in the middle of the area he abused earlier.

Wooyoung can only hiss. It takes him a while to find his words. “Of course I opened myself up beforehand, San, I wasn’t gonna slip that thing in without doing that.”

“That’s not what I asked,” San replies, rotating the plug around. “I asked if you fucked yourself because I have a hunch that if I push this bad boy in an out—” San pauses to do just that, “—it’s going to be loose. And would you look at that.”

A shiver wracks Wooyoung’s entire frame. “San, please—”

He chokes on his plea as soon as another slap lands on his right cheek, the reddened one.

“Yes or no, Wooyoung,” San presses, his voice low as he drags a thumb right under Wooyoung’s hole, teasing that he will slip it inside. When an answer doesn’t seem to come, San sighs. “Let me remind you that I am very patient. Unlike you.”

Wooyoung curses under his breath. Finally, his defiance is crumbling. “I… may have gotten carried away a little.”

San hums, not surprised in the slightest. He keeps pulling the plug out, then barely thrusting it back inside. He’s not fucking Wooyoung with it, not like this, but that’s the point. He can sense the man below slowly but surely lose his patience under his touches.

“You’re a good liar in general, Wooyoung. But not when you want something from me.”

San finally pulls the plug all the way back before nudging it back inside, looking to brush it past a certain bundle of nerves he knows so well. Judging by the high moan in Wooyoung’s chest and his slightly quivering hips, his aim is flawless.

“Yes,” San says as he pulls the plug out, “or no,” then thrusts it back in, this time with clear intent, “Woo-ya?”

“Y-Yes,” Wooyoung stammers. “Yes, but I—I only wanted to open myself up, nothing else—”

“Did you come?”

“No,” Wooyoung replies almost immediately. He’s not lying, that much is evident. “S-Stopped myself. Would never make myself come while waiting for you.”

“Why’d you do it though?” San asks even though he already knows the answer.

“I pretended it was you, ngh. I just—missed it. Missed you. Was opening myself up and then I… lost track of time when it started to feel good. I couldn’t help but think how much better it will feel once I have the real deal inside me.”

San’s hand wraps around the fluffy tail and pulls. Not much, but enough to pull a whimper from Wooyoung. “Cute. If you’re so keen on fucking other things while thinking of me, then you’ll be more than fine this little thing while I sit back and watch, right?”

Wooyoung once again gets up on his elbows and whips his head around. This time, however, San doesn’t stop him. “Wha—”

San smiles at him, all sweet and innocent. “This is your chance to atone, Young-ah. Come on. Do as I say. I’ll hold the plug by the end, but you’re gonna have to do all the work. Then, if you’ve been good enough, I’ll give you the real deal. Got it?”

Wooyoung gulps, loud enough for San to pick up on it. His breaths are hot and staggered, even though the night has just started.

Wordlessly, he gets up on his knees and elbows, steadies himself, then starts pushing back against the half-buried plug inside him. San holds it for him, hypnotized by the steadfast yet desperate movements of Wooyoung’s hips as the silicone tip keeps disappearing past his rim. His whines are getting more frequent, more frantic. San eventually takes pity on him, angling the plug in his grip so that it will hit its mark without error. As if a flip was switched, Wooyoung’s whines turn into choked out moans. He lets his head drop forward, pushing his hips back with newfound enthusiasm despite his thighs quivering slightly.

San can’t stop swallowing, saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight. The familiar scent of sex invades his nostrils, making it harder and harder for him to not throw the plug away and stuff Wooyoung full just like he asked earlier. The squelching sounds as the plug plunges in and out make his cock stir. San has to keep the panties out of the way with his other hand, and although getting rid of them would make this process a lot easier, he doesn’t want to give up on them. It’s more fun this way. Still, he spares a few seconds to reach down and palm himself through his sweats, unsurprised to find a little bit of wetness.

Still, he can’t afford to show Wooyoung how much this is affecting him. His boyfriend is the one supposed to be ruined, not the other way around.

With a heavy heart, San abandons his own pleasure and decides to focus on making Wooyoung beg for his instead. His thumb drags the lace underwear to the side, kneading Wooyoung’s left cheek in tandem with his boyfriend’s hips. San doesn’t really move the plug in any way; on the contrary, he’s keeping it as still as he can despite Wooyoung’s movements. It’s Wooyoung who keeps pushing against it, his voice high-pitched and needy as he’s sputtering nonsense.

“Sannie… San-ah… Baby I’m so close, Sannie, please…”

San’s grip doesn’t lessen, despite how much wetter his sweats feel after hearing that beautiful melody from Wooyoung’s lips. “Not sure what you’re asking me, jagi. I don’t remember telling you to stop moving, either.”

Now San starts thrusting the plug in and out, faithfully nudging past his boyfriend’s prostate, which only makes Wooyoung squirm more and drop his head into the pillow below.

“Mmph, fuck me, please. With your cock, not with that stupid fucking plug.”

“Hmm.” San’s hand freezes in the air as he pretends to think about it. Sadly for Wooyoung, he’s not even considering it. “You think you deserve to be fucked just because you want it?”

“Sannie…”

San chuckles at the weak sound of protest. He removes the plug and lets it fall in the sheets, not caring about the mess. This bed will see much worse tonight (they’ll of course clean up before they leave, because they aren’t savages).

“You sound so entitled,” San says, his voice steady despite how wet he feels between his legs. “Like I’m just going to fuck you because you asked.”

He can’t keep ignoring Wooyoung’s hole, lube dripping into the lace now covering it as it seemingly beckons San closer. He pushes the fabric away and eases a thumb inside to circle his walls, holding Wooyoung as steady as he can with a firm hand on his waist.

“Sannie—hngh… I’m so close, please, just get inside me already.”

San pauses, slips his finger out. He pulls down the panties as much as he can without ripping them, now taking in the full view. Within a second, he already sets his mind on what to do.

Before Wooyoung’s brain can even register the hot breath over his entrance, San leans close and says in a serious voice, “Beg me.”

He only gives a tentative lick over before thrusting his tongue inside. Wooyoung cries out, clawing at the pillow based on the sounds, but San isn’t very focused on that. He sucks at the rim and pushes inside as much as he can, trying to remember when was the last time he did this. Surely it’s been a few months.

They haven’t really had that much alone time lately, have they?

Despite Wooyoung’s thrashing and wretched moans, he’s still very much pushing his ass in San’s face. So much for not wanting to come. But can he really be blamed?

Desperation is clear in his voice when he speaks. “Sannie, please, fuck me, I’ll be good, I won’t talk back to you, just, please, come inside me. Need you to come inside me, aah—”

San leans back, soothing the skin over Wooyoung’s hips to make him stop shaking. Wooyoung’s frame does stop trembling, but he flops down on the side with labored breaths. Thin streaks of black mixed with tears are running down his cheeks—his eyeliner already ruined—and he barely lets go of the bottom lip he has been sinking his teeth in so far. San’s gaze moves lower, fully expecting to see a mess between his lover’s legs, but he’s happy to be wrong. Wooyoung’s hand is wrapped around his cock, but he’s gripping it by the base with his dear life, stubborn to the end to have his wish granted.

San kinda wants to swat Wooyoung’s hands away and blow him until he comes, but he’s so impressed with the dedication that he quickly shoves that thought away. Wooyoung is watching him with pleading eyes, waiting for the ultimatum. How could San not give him everything he ever asks for?

He wipes away a tear from Wooyoung’s cheek and brushes his bangs out of his eyes, fighting back a smile. He’s not supposed to act soft, not now.

“Will you even last if I slip inside you?” he asks in an admonishing tone. “What if you come as soon as I roll my hips a few times?”

The response from Wooyoung is fervent, immediate. He shakes his head while fluttering his eyelashes, saying, “I won’t. I’ll last, I promise.” He bites his lip in contemplation. “If I don’t, you can punish me later.”

San narrows his eyes. “How will I be sure that you won’t sabotage it? You love being punished.”

Wooyoung bats his eyelashes at him, all innocent-like. “Good question. You’ll just have to trust me. Will you? Pretty please?”

San remains impassive as he scans his boyfriend’s face. There is no mischief there, only sincerity. But Wooyoung is a damn good actor when he wants to be, and San isn’t buying any of it.

He eventually shuffles back, telling Wooyoung to get back in position with a smack on his left ass cheek. San can’t keep abusing the same spot as before, so he has to switch gears.

It doesn’t take him long to get rid of his pants and finally set his cock free with a hiss. Wooyoung watches him over his shoulder, wiggling his ass with a hum when San settles behind him. It seems that some of his bravery has started to resurface, but that won’t be the case for much longer. The bottle of lube is next to his ankle, probably thrown over from under the pillow while San was busy disentangling himself from his sweats. Wrapping a slicked hand over his cock feels like heaven, so much that San has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning, but heaven pales in comparison to how it feels to thrust inside Wooyoung.

He can sense his boyfriend holding his usual snappy remarks back. Normally, he would complain about San taking so long and telling him to hurry the fuck up already, but there’s none of that, not this time at least. San grins, placing a hand on Wooyoung’s waist as he lets his cock rest between his boyfriend’s cheeks.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck y… me already. Please.”

San thinks this is a record for Wooyoung’s obedience level.

He teases, nudging his cock between Wooyoung’s plump cheeks to make his boyfriend’s impatience run thin, but when a fresh strip of precum drops from his cockhead, he realizes he’s also torturing himself. Carefully, he holds his shaft by the base and guides it inside, watching Wooyoung’s back rise and fall with rushed breaths.

“Think you can take it in one go?” San asks, even though he’s almost half inside at this point.

“Yes, baby,” Wooyoung replies, as if he was prepared for the question. “We fit so nicely together. It’s been so long since you last filled me up. Remind me how it feels, please?”

San buries himself to the hilt to make him shut up, but it only earns him a filthy moan in return. “It hasn’t even been that long. You’re being demanding again. Asking for my cock as if you deserve it.”

Wooyoung chuckles. San can’t see the grin on his face, but he wants to wipe it off nonetheless. “But how can you refuse me?”

He’s right. San can’t refuse him, at least not when it comes to this, not when he’s already so deep. What he can do, however, is start snapping his hips fiercely from the get go. Needless to say, Wooyoung is slightly taken aback.

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, cowboy. This isn’t a race, you know?”

“Maybe for you.” San leans down, leaving some messy kisses on Wooyoung’s shoulder blade. “You feel so warm and inviting, Young-ah. Impossible to resist.”

“San—”

“Want to cum inside you badly.” Immediately, Wooyoung starts whining, shaking his head vehemently from side to side. “What’s wrong? I thought that’s what you wanted too?”

“You’re—You’re moving too fast,” he gasps, the veins on his hand bulging out as he grips the sheets for his dear life.

San combs a hand through Wooyoung’s hair. A gentle action despite the roughness of his thrusts. “Am I? I thought you were so close earlier. Or were you lying to me?”

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything, but his gasps and whimpers tell San everything he needs to know—that he regrets running his mouth. Unfortunately for him, San chooses to interpret his silence in another way.

“Wooyoung-ah,” San mouths over the back tattoo before leaning back. His rhythm remains steady, hypnotized with the way Wooyoung’s entire body gets pushed forward with every thrust. “How could you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie!” Wooyoung cries out, his voice cracking a little bit. “I just, hngh, you’re moving so fast, I can’t string my thoughts together.”

San traces his spine with his hand. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s like you’re a sex machine. Slow down. Make me feel good,” Wooyoung begs, though it’s obvious he’s keeping his moans under lock and key to try to sell the act.

San eyes him suspiciously when those sounds suddenly stop. When Wooyoung opens his mouth again, it’s like he switched to an entirely different attitude.

“Got somewhere else to be?” he asks in a mocking tone. “Someone else to fuck other than me? Is that why you’re in such a rush?”

San’s palm collides with his boyfriend’s ass with such force that even his hand tingles from the impact. Wooyoung almost slumps forward, his mouth open in a silent moan as he turns his head to the side.

San isn’t sure what the snarkiest reply is to whatever nonsense Wooyoung just said. They tend to say the most random stuff during sex, blame it on their horny muddled thoughts and what not, but this one is new. It took him completely by surprise.

The answer is simple. “No. Why would I fuck anyone else when I can fill you up all night?” His hand once again finds Wooyoung’s hair. “Remind me, Wooyoung-ah, what was your record?”

But Wooyoung seems so out of it already. He loses strength in his arms and falls forward, hugging his pillow to his chest as he starts pushing his ass back in tandem with San’s hip rolls.

San won’t have it. He pulls Wooyoung back by the hair, making him scramble to press his palms back into the mattress and push himself back up.

“I asked you a question, Wooyoung-ah,” San says in his raspy voice, low and sharp, accentuating each syllable of Wooyoung’s name with a decisive snap of his hips, “and I expect an answer.”

Wooyoung whines. His eyeliner is smudged around his eyes, ruined by tears. “F-four?”

San lets go of his hair and corrects him with a slap on his ass. “Make that five.”

Wooyoung’s response consists of a choked out moan and white knuckling the sheets.

They fall in their familiar rhythm, Wooyoung pushing his hips back to match San, their sounds mingled together in a harmony orchestrated by their mutual pleasure. San ends up pushing the black blouse as high as he can because he craves skin like air, but he’s still careful not to cover the back tattoo he treasures so much. He ends up slotting his lips over the ink, tracing the words with his tongue as Wooyoung is slowly coming undone underneath him.

 “C-Close,” Wooyoung says in a weak voice that is barely a whisper. San expected as much based on the increasing pitch in his voice, but pride always swells in his chest when Wooyoung reminds him of the effect he has on him.

San pulls away to admire the view. His eyes snap down to where they’re connected, and he has to bite his lip not to come from the visual stimulation of Wooyoung’s rim all stretched out around him. The skirt sways with every move, falling from where it’s bunched up at Wooyoung’s waist every few thrusts. San flips it back up every time, but he doesn’t want to move it all the way up, because what would be the fun in having Wooyoung wear a skirt if he’s just gonna ignore it entirely? It’s a bit frustrating that it won’t sit still but, fortunately, the skirt is too pretty (and seemingly sturdy) for him to rip it. Plus, Wooyoung asked him very nicely not to do that, so he won’t.

So, San grips it in his clutches, kneads it as if he’s actually making biscuits like Wooyoung claimed. He wants to see just how ruined this skirt will be by the time they’re done with it.

It doesn’t take long for Wooyoung to look around in a panic, his whines more prominent. But before he can open his mouth, San cuts in. “I heard you loud and clear.”

Wooyoung pauses, waiting for San to elaborate, but that doesn’t happen. He looks over his shoulder. “T-Touch me? Please?”

San watches him, expression blank. “You think I’ll touch you just because you asked?”

“But—”

“My hands will remain glued to your ass no matter how much you cry and beg. So you either come untouched, or you get to work. Clear?”

Wooyoung blinks at him. There’s a bit of drool on the corner of his lips. San doesn’t expect an answer, but he gets one. “Crystal,” Wooyoung says, snaking a hand between his legs.

It doesn’t take long for shivers to wrack his body, accompanied by a series of moans, each more beautiful than the one before. San curses when he feels Wooyoung clench around him, embracing him tightly until it’s impossible to hold on any longer, so he soon spills inside with a grunt while gripping Wooyoung’s hips so tightly that he bruises. That’s okay. Those can be easily covered up with makeup.

As much as San would want to keep fucking his own cum inside, he has other plans for tonight. When he slips out, Wooyoung crashes on the mattress, still trying to catch his breath. Equally breathless, San allows him a few moments to fully come back from his high before checking on him.

Wooyoung’s hair is still in relatively good condition, just some bangs sticking out here and there. His makeup, however, is smudged, faded, or staining his cheeks because of the tears. Wooyoung fell on his side, but San tilts his chin up so they can see eye to eye. He even fixes the slightly askew cat ears on his head.

“Okay?” San asks, more out of habit than anything else. He can recognize the pleased fucked out expression on his boyfriend’s face from a mile away.

Wooyoung licks his lips. “One,” he says.

“Sorry?”

“One orgasm. Four more to go.”

Oh, so he doesn’t want a break? So be it. San chuckles, pushing his body back up by planting his palms on the mattress.

“Four more to go,” he agrees.

Wooyoung is so beautiful. San wants to say it, but he fears he might break character. If he doesn’t end up saying it while they keep at it, he’ll make sure to do it once they’re done.

As San scans the other man’s body, he barely holds himself from gulping. Wooyoung’s face, even with the streaks of black eyeliner on his cheeks, is still so pretty. His red, plump lips, so kissable. All that skin on his chest and lower, begging to be kissed. His spent cock, lying sensitive on his tummy. His puffy hole, already dripping cum on the white sheets, begging for more attention.

Gorgeous. Breathtaking. San is so lucky to have him, to be loved by him in return. He counts his blessings every time they make love, and this time is no exception either.

Still, he has a job to do. He drills this into his skull as his face loses any remaining post-nut haziness, his expression returning to being impassive, taunting at most.

“I take it you had a good time? Being fucked?”

“Of course.” Wooyoung replies almost mechanically at the question because it’s such an obvious answer. He frowns, his brain catching up to him a few seconds later when he realizes there has to be something more to that. “Why do you ask?”

San smiles, his thumb pressing dangerously close to his boyfriend’s rim. But that’s just a ruse. “Because it’s my turn now.”

Wooyoung’s frown deepens. He blinks, trying to clear the confusion from his eyes, but fails. “What are you—”

San repositions, refusing to say another word until he fully leaves his spot between Wooyoung’s legs. He plants his knees on either side of his boyfriend’s ribs, hovering over him. “You’re not the only one who prepped earlier. But I only did it to get ready, unlike a certain someone who wanted to be naughty and compromise my plan to break your orgasm record tonight—”

“I didn’t… That’s not what I…” Wooyoung stammers, taken aback by the proposition. San can see the cogs moving in his head as his poor fizzled out brain finally makes sense of what he was just told. His brow softens.

There. San has him in the palm of his hand.

“Okay,” Wooyoung whispers. “I’ll do it.”

San tilts his head to the side. “That was fast. You sure? You don’t seem too convinced.”

“I am,” Wooyoung replies with a firm nod. “I’ll make you feel good.”

“I don’t need your promises, Young-ah.” San throws the bottle of lube in Wooyoung’s direction, who catches it over his chest. He picks up the leash and wraps it around his hand before pulling slightly, saliva pooling in his mouth when he sees Wooyoung’s beautiful neck arch. “I need you to show me.”

Wooyoung swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, slowly reviving San’s cock from its break.

“Come closer,” Wooyoung tells him.

The words barely leave Wooyoung’s tongue before San falls victim to the suggestion. Enticed, he scoots closer while Wooyoung shuffles back until he’s sitting up with his back against the headboard. His eyes fall on the leash still wrapped around San’s eyes, but he quickly looks away, his still hazy gaze meeting San’s fiery one.

“You look lost,” San comments with a tilt of his head. “Need instructions?”

Wooyoung blinks, finally snapping out of it. He scans around the mess of sheets and finally spots the bottle of lube just a bit out of reach.

“Gimme that,” he says, but San is unmoving, watching him with a blank expression. “Please.”

Barely masking a grin, San extends an arm and hands over the lube. Wooyoung’s movements are a bit clumsy as he uncaps the bottle; he almost drops it as he tries to set it aside after squirting some of its contents on his fingers.

“Nervous?” San teases him, invading even more of his personal space.

Wooyoung looks down. He lets his clean palm rest on San’s back, rejoicing in the proximity. “Maybe. Stop staring at me.”

With a hum, San ducks his head in the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, his mouth watering when he sees a vein bulging out just above the collar. He’s not a vampire, he just knows that’s one of Wooyoung’s sensitive spots, but he wants to save it for later. For now, he relishes in the way his boyfriend’s breathing picks up just from being so close.

“But I want to admire you,” San whispers, barely brushing his lips over Wooyoung’s neck, but that’s enough to elicit a shiver from the man beneath, as well as a grin from San. “After all, I’m the only one who can see you like this. Can I take a picture of you?”

Wooyoung sucks in a breath. “San—”

“No, a picture won’t do,” San adds, ghosting his lips over the leather collar. “It won't do you justice, even though there’s so much to capture. Your disheveled hair, the drops of sweat falling down your temple, the teeth marks on your lips. But there’s also some things a picture can never catch. What about your soft and desperate moans? I could film you, but it still wouldn’t be enough. Would your moans sound just as tender when played back? Even if I filmed you, how would the video retain just how heavenly you feel when you clench around my c—aah.”

If there’s one thing Wooyoung prides himself with other than being a performer, it’s his ability to shut San up. It doesn’t take long to bury his index finger all the way to the knuckle, prodding around for good measure when San finally looks up at him.

“Stop with that nonsense,” Wooyoung tells him, his brows furrowed. “What’s gotten into you?”

San’s gaze flickers down before meeting Wooyoung’s eyes again. “Got you half hard already. I’d say my nonsense worked.”

Wooyoung’s frown deepens. His finger stops, not like it was doing much of anything anyway, but San won’t have it. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he ducks back down into the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, tracing the bulging vein with the tip of his tongue.

“Move your fingers, Wooyoung-ah, or I’m gonna bite you. Right here.”

He feels Wooyoung tensing beneath him. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again. Move.”

A slight tremble washes over Wooyoung, going all the way to the tip of his fingers. He slides another digit in, yet this time he’s at least trying to make an effort, but it’s not good enough. Wooyoung can render San into a mumbling pile of nonsense with his fingers alone, but it’s like he’s… distracted. Maybe he needs a little push.

San teases the skin on his lover’s neck with his teeth, prompting a soft whine and a pitiful plea not to bite down. Thankfully, San doesn’t, but he might as well have done just that because the second he pulls at the collar with his teeth, Wooyoung gasps, a staccato moan escaping his lips before he closes them tightly.

“Don’t do that,” San chastises him, kissing and licking above the collar as he slowly makes his way under Wooyoung’s jaw. “Are you gonna hold back like that too when you finally get to fuck me?”

“N-No…”

“No?” San reclines back with an innocent look on his face and his head slightly tilted. “But you’re barely fucking me with your fingers. You expect me to think you’re gonna do a better job with your dick? Hit that spot, Wooyoung.”

He does, a shadow crossing his eyes as he looks at San to take in his reaction. San plays along, deciding to give it to him—the surprised gasp, the fluttering of his eyes, and his face twisting in pleasure. Wooyoung’s gaze is fixated on him, that much San can tell even without glancing at him, his dick getting harder at the sight. Good. Really good.

San can feel his own cock waking up, but he needs to not get too excited too fast. He looks up and takes in Wooyoung’s clenched jaw, ruined makeup, and soft hair. Whoever told him to cut it is heartless because he has never looked more handsome (but then again, San always thinks Wooyoung looks handsome).

He gasps again when Wooyoung accurately brushes past his sweet spot. Thankfully, his boyfriend doesn’t seem to be in the mood for teasing. If he was, San would have to do this himself and make him watch before riding him. It’s an option that San predicted might happen depending on how much of a brat Wooyoung decided to be. Surprisingly, there’s not a single hint of cockiness on Wooyoung’s face; just pure, unfiltered lust.

“I get it now,” he says. When San quirks an eyebrow, asking to elaborate, Wooyoung adds, “Why you said those things earlier. Calling me beautiful and… heavenly. I missed seeing you like this.”

San decides to drop his mask for a bit. A small smile appears on his pleasure-riddled face. “It hasn’t been that long, I don’t think.”

Wooyoung chuckles lightly. “Think again. It was still summer.”

“Oh.” He’s right. It has been a while since he bottomed. Even more reasons to make this as memorable as possible.

San’s gaze drops to where the leash is still tightly wrapped around his fist. He didn’t even realize he was holding it so fiercely. He gives it a tug, watching Wooyoung swallow, starry eyes gone wide as he stares right back at him.

A grin spreads on San’s lips. Resisting the urge to push back against Wooyoung’s fingers, he instead says, “Then make me feel as good as you did in the summer. Come on. Fuck me like you did it to yourself while I was downstairs.”

Wooyoung bites his lip, refusing to tear his gaze away from San. He immediately slides a third finger in.

The next minutes pass in pure bliss. San goes back to mapping Wooyoung’s neck with his lips as soon as he adjusts to the extra intrusion. The leash in his grip is a weapon to be reckoned with. All he needs to do is pull at it to make Wooyoung seek his mouth whenever he wants kisses, though they mostly gasp against each other’s mouths more than kiss. There is no surplus of saliva dripping down the corners of their mouths now, only soft brushes of lips. Wooyoung seems focused on his task, so San takes this as permission to grip his chin and deepen their kisses. Too bad he can’t keep kissing Wooyoung like this for too long without thwarting his own plans. After all, Wooyoung can make him come undone with his fingers alone, and that just isn’t on San’s agenda for tonight.

“Enough,” San says firmly, to which Wooyoung immediately retracts his fingers. It seems he doesn’t know where to put his hands for a brief moment, but he eventually decides on San’s hips after wiping his hand on the sheets.

San can only chuckle. It’s genuine, but there’s also a teasing undertone to it. Wooyoung very clearly picks up on it based on his widening eyes and parting lips.

“You look so lost. Think you can fuck me properly with this attitude?”

Wooyoung sucks in a breath. He nods, his grip tightening on San’s hips too. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” San echoes. “You don’t sound so sure.”

“But I am,” Wooyoung emphasizes, gripping the soft skin at San’s waist hard enough to hurt. “I’ll make you feel good, just like you made me feel. Promise.”

San smirks down at him, pulling one last time at the leash before letting it fall from his grasp. “Show me then.”

When they switch places, San decides to be a little shit. He takes his time, even arching his back (totally not an intentional move), feeling Wooyoung’s eyes staring at him. When he finally slumps on the pillow below, his back against the mattress, San’s gaze moves down. He forgot something.

“Take that off.”

Wooyoung looks down at his top. It’s beautiful and elegant, but San isn’t asking him to take it off so as to not get stained with bodily fluids. No, San wants to see his boyfriend’s chest in all its glory, wants to see his abdominal muscles tense as he’s fucking into him.

Wooyoung’s fingers grip the hem of his top, slowly lifting it over his head, revealing all that precious skin that sadly San can’t get his teeth on. The ink on his ribs gets revealed too. San wants to drown it in kisses too, like he does with all of Wooyoung’s tattoos, but he’s gonna have to keep that for later. For now, he slides the lube over the bed toward Wooyoung, who has to hold the skirt up to slick himself properly.

“Take that off too,” San urges, his eyes flicking to the purple panties still hugging Wooyoung’s thighs. They will only get in the way.

It seems that Wooyoung reaches the same conclusion. He slowly slips them off, the movements so calculated and sensual that San can’t even complain. It sends a jolt of interest straight to his cock.

“Come on,” San says, spreading his legs slightly to entice Wooyoung. Pride swells in his chest when he sees his boyfriend’s hand pause on his cock and swallow. He manages to snap out of it and finally align himself.

He goes in slowly, one palm spread on San’s tummy while the other is holding his own skirt up. San wants nothing more than to watch him frown in concentration, but he ends up throwing his head back, arching his neck with a gasp as Wooyoung makes his way deeper and deeper. When he’s all the way in, San thinks he sees stars, but as soon as he musters the strength to look up and search Wooyoung’s face, he realizes the other man is having a harder time than him. Somehow.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” San asks, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

Wooyoung is panting, his knuckles white where he’s holding the skirt up. He always mentions how good San feels whenever he’s inside, but he’s never been this ruined before. A quick nod and a small sound of confirmation is all he can manage at the moment.

San’s grin widens. “I did say you seem lost. Just gonna sit there while I adjust? You look like it’s your first time doing this.”

Wooyoung glares at him like he wants to kill him. He leans over San, his breath ghosting over a nipple. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” San counters, watching Wooyoung look up in annoyance after barely wrapping his lips over San’s nipple.

“That’s my line.” His hand stalks over San’s chest until it reaches his chin, gripping it. “Why are you using my own weapons against me?”

“Because I want you to snap out of it already and fuck me like you mean it. Or do you not want to?” San asks with a tilt of his head.

“I do. You…” He gives a tentative roll of his hips, making San clench his jaw to not make a single sound. “You just took me by surprise. That’s it.”

San runs a hand through Wooyoung’s hair gently. “Well, I’m happy it was a good surprise. Now, can you please fuck my brains out?”

Wooyoung says nothing, but his eyes tell San everything he needs to know—that he’s more than willing to do it, or at least try.

When Wooyoung pushes himself away to get back in position, San makes sure to grip the leash again. Thankfully, it’s long enough for Wooyoung to sit comfortably between his legs while San’s hand rests on his chest, thumbing over the leather. Wooyoung notices, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Wooyoung starts bucking his hips forward, slowly and sensually, sending shivers of pleasure down San’s spine. As time passes and he picks up the pace, it’s getting harder and harder for San to keep his sounds in check. It feels really good, but he’s not the one supposed to be moaning and sobbing, no matter how deep Wooyoung manages to reach inside him. His face is red, and he can only see an equally wrecked Wooyoung through half-lidded eyes, but he doesn’t want to give his boyfriend any more ammunition. The tiny gasps that make it through his parted lips are enough.

Wooyoung watches him, biting his lip in frustration. He rocks his hips harder, faster, even without San telling him to do that, but San still wears his unimpressed expression like it’s a mask. No matter how much Wooyoung fucks into him, he won’t manage to knock it out of his own accord. San tugs on the leash to make that known.

“You can do a lot better than that, Youngie. What’s wrong? Skirt getting in the way?”

The skirt is getting in the way, yes. Wooyoung struggles to keep it up, but it falls from his grip with every few snaps of his hips.

“M-Maybe I should have kept my top on. I could have pinned the front of the skirt under the hem.”

“No. I want to see you fuck me with the skirt very much on. I don’t want it out of the way.”

Wooyoung whines, the skirt once again falling over, hiding where they are connected. He fists the fabric, lifting it over his abdomen. “So what’s the difference between that and what I’m doing now? You like seeing me struggle…?”

San doesn’t need to say anything. He just chuckles. “Smart kitty,” he chides, echoing the compliment Wooyoung gave him earlier.

Wooyoung shakes his head. A single drop of sweat trickles down his chin. “You demon.”

“I learned from the best.”

Wooyoung’s movements eventually turn from sensual to snappy, abandoning his wish to hold back and simply allowing his desires to run wild. He hooks one of San’s legs over his shoulder and spreads the other one apart with his palm, but he whines and curses when that damn skirt keeps getting in the way. With pleading eyes, he looks up at San to ask for permission to take it off, but San only tugs at the leash, pulling Wooyoung closer and making him choke on a moan.

“Sannie, please, let me take it off for now. I promise I’ll put it on after, promise to make you feel so good you’ll forget about it—”

He almost topples over when San pulls at the leash. Hard. “That skirt stays on until we’re done. Got it?”

Wooyoung’s bottom lip trembles. A tear even falls from his eye. “Baby, please,” he begs. He’s hunched over San’s chest and, inevitably, his gaze is drawn down to the throbbing cock resting over San’s tummy, streaks of precum already smearing the skin.

But San knows what his cunning boyfriend is up to before Wooyoung can wrap his hand over his cock. San grips his wrist and forces him to look up by pulling at the leash until Wooyoung has no other option than to obey.

“Pull out,” San demands, his voice heavy. “On your back.”

When Wooyoung doesn’t do anything but just stare at him, San takes matters into his own hands. This time, he no longer moves slowly as he repositions on the bed. Wooyoung is once again beneath him, breathless, hands pinned on either side of his head—his punishment for misbehaving. All he can do is pant. The cat ears askew on his head and the remnants of his eyeliner in the form of watery streaks on his cheeks make him look so pitiful, yet so sexy. San wants to feast on all of his moans until his voice dies out.

After blabbering for a few seconds, Wooyoung manages a question, his bottom lip trembling. “What are you doing?”

With a huff, San lets go of his wrists. He knows Wooyoung is in no shape to try anything anyway. Because he doesn’t want to waste any more time, he grasps Wooyoung’s cock by the base and says, “What you should be doing.”

He sinks like it’s the most natural thing in the world. San feels full, and he wants nothing more than to throw his head back to let out the most obscene sound of the night, but seeing Wooyoung crumble and almost fold in on himself from the sudden warmth enveloping him stirs something deep inside his chest, something primal. Although he feels precum dripping from his tip at the sight, it pales in comparison to how overtaken with pleasure Wooyoung’s face is, how cute he sounds as he sobs in the pillow with moans spilling from his mouth.

Spurred by the reaction, San starts bouncing, his own vision getting hazy as Wooyoung gets louder, his hair now a mess, sticking out in all directions and getting into his eyes. By some kind of miracle, the cat ears are still on his head.

San wraps the leash around his fist and pulls it taut. Wooyoung’s eyes go wide, but now he has no choice but to look up with a broken moan on his parted lips.

“You better not come in the next few minutes,” San warns, voice raspy and gaze heavy. “I will ride you into overstimulation if you do.”

Wooyoung whines, his neck veins bulging underneath his collar as he wants to let his head drop back onto the pillows but can’t because of how vehemently San is gripping the leash. “I won’t. I-I’ll last. Don’t worry about me and just—fuck.”

“Right,” San replies with a chuckle. Wooyoung is so adorable like this, so needy and whiny as he scrapes the sheets next to him with his nails.

There’s a pathetic attempt from him to buck his hips up, but the tug from the leash lets him know that’s not allowed.

“Don’t do that,” San warns, barely resisting the urge to palm himself at the sound of Wooyoung’s desperate whimper. It’s obvious he wants to fuck into San’s warm, inviting hole, but that’s not possible anymore. “You had your chance earlier. Now we play by my rules.”

San’s other hand finds the skirt’s folds spread over Wooyoung’s abdomen. He fists the material tightly before letting go of it, pushing it higher and higher, aware that Wooyoung’s eyes are on him. “You can’t just promise me a skirt and take it off just because you can’t hold it up while fucking me, Young-ah. That’s just an excuse.”

Wooyoung’s head lolls around, soft gasps and whimpers pulled from him with every calculated bounce from San, who knows exactly what to do to render his lover a stuttering mess. When he grinds down with intent, he has to hold Wooyoung by the shoulders to not trash around as he stammers through tears how good it feels, how close he is. He’s begging San to go easy, aware of the overstimulation warning from before, but that’s not going to happen.

“Baby, please, you feel so good, but slow down a bit—”

“Why?” San asks with a tilt of his head, expression blank as he once again sinks all the way to the base of Wooyoung’s cock. “Afraid I’m gonna make you cry even harder than you are now? Is that even possible?”

It is. They both know it.

“Want—” Wooyoung blabbers. “Want to feel you more. You feel so good, Sannie—”

“You could have felt me more if you fucked me properly. Such a thick cock, yet you failed to use it—”

This somewhat brings Wooyoung back to reality. He gathers his wits and strings together the most coherent sentence in the past ten minutes. “I can redeem myself. Let me fuck into you. I’ll—”

“No,” San says, and it’s final.

Wooyoung knows it too, based on his reaction—his trembling lip and blown-out eyes. Still, he tries to bargain. “At least—at least slow down a bit to make yourself feel good too, aaah—” He can’t even speak for too long before his eyes inevitably roll back in pleasure. “You’re doing this just to teach me a lesson.”

As it so happens, San picks up the pace. Wooyoung’s eyes are watching his chest, hypnotized as San’s pecs also slightly bounce up and down. He bites his lip when San picks up on it and pushes his chest forward.

“You’re right,” San agrees, snapping Wooyoung out of his trance. “I’m honestly surprised you lasted this much. Close?”

Wooyoung brings a hand to his mouth, looking away in shame. He can barely contain his whimpers, his blush is blazing red all the way down to his chest, and the filthy squelching sounds are making his predicament so much worse. With a few small nods, he admits defeat, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yes. Very.”

“Cute,” San responds. Wooyoung’s sharp glare (or his attempt at one) makes him smile even wider. “Think you can come on command?”

“Sannie, please—”

San rolls his hips slowly, decisively, watching Wooyoung coming apart underneath him. “I believe you can do it. If you do, I might just forgive you for what you tried to pull earlier. What do you say?”

Wooyoung babbles something, but San can’t make it out through the cascade of desperate moans and gasps. His own cock is so red at the tip it starts to hurt a bit, but he ignores it for the spectacle in front of him. It’s only a matter of seconds until Wooyoung will spill inside him, hot and messy.

All he needs is a little push.

“Come on, baby. Show me how good I made you feel again,” he says, tugging at the leash once more for good measure.

Wooyoung can be so stubborn when he wants to. Even as San encourages him with honeyed praise while riding him to draw out his pleasure, he still puts up a fight, refusing to yield with a weak shake of his head. But when San grinds down and sees Wooyoung’s eyes roll back with a strangled moan, he knows victory is within his reach.

“Come on. Be a good kitty. Let go. Do it for Sannie.”

There it is. Wooyoung’s expression of betrayal would be almost comical if he didn’t start thrashing around as soon as he loses the fight against the impending orgasm. He’s so fucking loud, if they were fucking in San’s room, he would have found a note on his door from Seonghwa letting him know that he has to wash the dishes by hand for the remaining of the month, despite the perfectly functional dishwasher in the kitchen.

San tugs on the leash, but it’s useless. In fact, it seems to spur Wooyoung to squirm even more, his face twisted in pleasure as he sinks his nails deeply into San’s thighs, making him hiss. But San doesn’t comment on it, instead riding out Wooyoung’s high until the man beneath him goes limp against the sheets, the pillow under his head soaked with tears as they fall from his cheeks. He’s mumbling whimpers, finally letting go of San’s poor thighs as he slumps his palms on the bed.

San gets off, feeling the remnants of Wooyoung’s orgasm slowly trickling down his thighs, but he doesn’t dwell on it. Wooyoung’s eyes are squeezed tight, giving San the opportunity to palm himself to relieve some of the pressure, but the surplus of precum makes the experience dangerous, so he quickly abandons his dick, not wanting to come all over Wooyoung’s chest. At least, not for now.

His lips find Wooyoung’s skin nonetheless. San doesn’t have a clear target, he just lets his mouth roam around his lover’s chest, licking the beads of sweat as if they’re his reward for sending Wooyoung flying straight to cloud nine.

Wooyoung hums, finally registering the soft kisses on his skin. His breathing stops staggering as San zealously maps his chest with his lips. San feels gentle fingers comb through his hair. Slowly, gingerly. Wooyoung loves pulling at his hair, but he has no reason to do that. After all, he got everything he wanted.

He’s in for a surprise.

San’s journey eventually takes him lower. Once again, he finds himself between Wooyoung’s legs, feeling him tense up as San approaches the softening cock on the tummy. But San isn’t interested in that. He continues dragging his lips lower, steadily aiming for the inner thighs where the recent hickeys welcome him in all their bruised splendor.

It must hurt even dragging his tongue over them because some of them have a particularly deep shade of red. San presses his fingers into the meat of Wooyoung’s thigh with every whimper that he hears, coaxing more similar sounds out of his lover. He wants to drink them in, revel in them; he’s wanted to for weeks, months even. Having the opportunity to finally do so feels so liberating, as if wings sprouted on his back. Is he selfish for wanting to extend their three days off to at least a week? Terribly so. Too bad that, even if he made up a million excuses to their team of managers, that would never happen.

San moves higher to suck on Wooyoung’s hipbone, pushing the skirt as high as it can go. He leaves marks small enough that they will go unnoticed by the time they need to perform. Wooyoung is silent beneath him save for the occasional small gasps and staggered breaths, but he’s still devotedly petting San’s hair, even scratching at his scalp in a pleasing manner. It makes San hum against the skin, preening at the attention and silent praise he’s getting.

The grip Wooyoung has on his hair is no longer gentle when San starts circling his finger over his boyfriend’s rim.

“Hey.” It seems that Wooyoung regained his voice. “What are you doing?”

San looks up at him, all innocent-like. “What does it look like? I haven't come yet.”

Wooyoung’s frown soothes when San pushes the digit in, prodding at the loosened walls, still slightly wet. “Sannie, give me a second—”

“Afraid I can’t do that. I know you put on that show with the skirt just so I’d ride you. I did what you wanted. Now it’s my turn.”

He sits up, planting both palms on Wooyoung’s knees to spread his legs apart. Wooyoung watches him with pleading eyes, his cheek squished against the pillow beneath him. He looks so wrecked. He’s going to look even better soon.

San drags a hesitant hand over his own cock, which is pretty much soaked in precum at this point. He’s unsure how he held himself back from coming three different times while riding Wooyoung. If that’s not dedication, then he doesn’t know what is.

San moves his hand away, turning his attention back to Wooyoung, whose gaze seems fixated on his hardened cock, almost drooling as he imagines getting his brains fucked with it. He won’t have to imagine for much longer.

Wordlessly, San repositions, holding his dick by the base to align himself with Wooyoung’s pretty hole.

“San, Sannie, slow down—”

But his request gets drowned by the moan bubbling his throat as San breaches him once more, the glide made smooth by the precum coating his shaft. He trembles, his voice quivering too when calling out San’s name, but he still wraps his legs around San’s back, welcoming him back. It’s sweet watching him pretend that he doesn’t crave more, that he doesn’t always crave more when it comes to San, especially when even holding hands can attract unwanted attention.

“I hope you didn’t think we were done here, darling,” San muses when he bottoms out. He ducks forward to leave a kiss over Wooyoung’s chest in apology, then a line of kisses over his collarbone and finally at the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Only then does he notice that the collar has started to bite into Wooyoung’s skin from how tight it hugs his neck, and they can’t exactly have that, not with GMF barely a week away. While Wooyoung is busy adjusting to the size of San’s cock spearing him open once again, San easily unlocks the collar and takes it off, massaging the affected area of Wooyoung’s neck. Ugh, there are some marks there. Quite evident, too. They might have to get the makeup artists to conceal them before Wooyoung starts making headlines for having collar marks.

Still, San doesn’t want to depart from it. Discarding it among the sheets feels unfair. Before his own thoughts can even catch up to him, he clasps the collar around his neck, making sure it’s slightly loose so that his neck won’t suffer the same fate as Wooyoung’s. Covering up one set of collar marks is enough of an eyebrow raiser as it is, but two? San just doesn’t want to deal with that extra headache.

Wooyoung makes a sound of surprise, prompting San to finally focus on him. His eyes are wide, his parted lips asking a silent question. Why? Because he definitely did not see this coming.

San doesn’t give him an answer. Instead, he clasps the leash in Wooyoung’s hand, taking in the increasing shock on his face with amusement.

“Hold onto this for me. It won’t do much, but it will give you an illusion of control.”

He doesn’t wait for Wooyoung to close his mouth. It’s not like he can once San starts rolling his hips with clear intent. His shoulders slump and he’s once again rolling his head into the pillow, ruining his perfect hair. Strands are sticking to his forehead beaded with sweat. There’s a cute line between his quivering brows, and it seems to be deepening the more San gets to work.

“Fuck, baby, slow down,” Wooyoung says, more of a breath than an actual plea. He’s gripping the leash in his fist so fiercely, the outlines of his veins are evident.

“Should I? Is that really what you want?” San asks, noting the way Wooyoung is pushing his own hips down in tandem with San’s thrusts.

Wooyoung sighs, not in the mood to argue. His cock is still soft, but they both know it won’t take too long until it will rev back up with interest, especially if San maintains this slow and sensual rhythm. He’s being patient, which isn’t something Wooyoung is necessarily a fan of, but he looks like he might break into sobs if San pushes too much.

So he takes a slow and careful approach, even bends down to press soft kisses on Wooyoung’s chest, his heartbeat loud and powerful under the skin. San’s hand searches through the sheets until he finds Wooyoung’s hand, still holding onto the leash for dear life, even though he’s not pulling at it. Tracing the veins on his wrist, San pushes open Wooyoung’s palm before interlocking their fingers together.

Wooyoung’s voice is weak, too spent from all the whining and screaming from earlier. He can’t stop panting, but San senses his head slowly turn in the direction of their intertwined hands.

“Why are you so gentle?” Wooyoung asks, blinking slowly.

San uses his other hand to prop himself up, grinding more than actually fucking, but it’s enough to turn Wooyoung into a puddle. “Because it’s what you need.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. Of course. Cocky till the end. “You’re breaking character.”

“Better than to break you.”

The chuckle from Wooyoung is dry, but he’s grinning, clearly amused. “I can take it and you know it.”

San lets go of his hand and instead brings it up to pet his hair, fixing the off-centered cat ears. “But you know I hate seeing you cry. Even like this.”

Wooyoung hums, closing his eyes at the soft fingers combing through his hair. Finally, he wraps both arms and legs around San and sighs. “You take care of me as if it’s your life’s mission.”

“That’s because it is,” San agrees before shutting him up with a kiss.

While they both delude themselves that they’ll last for many hours to come, they bask in each other’s touches. Wooyoung presses his nails into San’s shoulders and pulls his hair as San kisses his face, neck, and licks into his mouth. There’s unspoken words floating between them as they can only muster broken fragments of each other’s names. San wants to tell Wooyoung how much he loves him, but no matter what he tries to come up with, nothing seems to amount to the pure love in his eyes and actions. Judging by how Wooyoung is eyeing him, it seems his mind is just as cloudy as San’s. Only their bodies seem to speak now, and it’s a language they have both become very familiar with over the years.

San only picks up the pace when he’s so close he thinks he might pass out. Thankfully, that is enough for Wooyoung to wrap an arm around his poor sensitive cock and pump until he comes a third time, just a sprinkle of cum compared to before, but his body is wracked by shivers still the same. He comes with a silent moan on his lips and sighs when he finally returns back to the earth, his throat probably too sore for him to scream again.

San almost topples over him when he comes, but Wooyoung catches him, wraps his arms around his shoulders, whispers words of gratitude over his hairline. Somehow, it’s this moment that makes San’s heart burst with all the love he has for this man. There’s so much he wants to say, but all he can do is bury his face in Wooyoung’s neck and kiss him softly, soothing the marks left by the collar and hoping that Wooyoung will understand.

It seems that he does. “Love you too, my San-ah.”

My San-ah. His, no one else’s. San thinks he might cry.

The skirt is not ruined, but it will need some deep cleaning after this. The cat ears are also removed, gently placed on the nightstand with the lamp they knocked over earlier. After San takes care of all the mess still sticking to their bodies and wipes Wooyoung’s face clean off the ruined makeup, he ends up on his back with Wooyoung cuddling him, cheek squished against one of San’s pecs and an arm around his waist. San hugs him close to his chest, kissing Wooyoung’s hair whenever he feels like it. They could fall asleep like this so easily, wrapped up in bliss and serenity.

San didn’t forget his promise, but it looks like their record breaking will have to wait for another time. He's not even sure they can go one more time.

The day they set that record was their anniversary in 2023. Well, not exactly. Although they go out on their anniversaries, most of the time, they can’t properly celebrate because of schedules and filming, so they have to reschedule to an appropriate date. It just so happened that the closest day off they had was Valentine’s day. And, well, if they weren’t sure they were going to spend the rest of their days together, that night cemented that belief firmly within their hearts.

Just as San opens his mouth to ask Wooyoung if he wants to continue, fully expecting to be rejected, Wooyoung’s stomach revolts at the emptiness. Right, he barely ate today. After all that effort, he must be starving.

“Sannie,” he mumbles over San’s chest, “Mind if we try breaking our record tomorrow instead? I want to cook something before I fall asleep.”

San laughs.

 

 

Wooyoung ends up falling asleep. San manages to sneak away without waking him, but not before gently laying a pillow under his head and wrapping a thin (and clean) sheet over him. Looks like San will have to change the sheets later.

He makes it to the kitchen and rummages through the fridge, remembering that Wooyoung told him while driving about his plans to make some spicy pork bulgogi when they made it to the lodge, so the least he can do is at least prepare the ingredients. San has watched his boyfriend cook this countless times, so he knows the ingredients for the marinade, how to cut the onions, and how much garlic to crush. He might not be an expert when it comes to throwing these things in the pan and actually cooking them, but he doesn’t plan to test his skills tonight.

As if sensing something is wrong (San being in the proximity of the stove), Wooyoung walks into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He combed his hair and put on a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved shirt that is too baggy for his frame. At first glance, he doesn’t seem freshly fucked to the point of losing his voice. However, this becomes obvious the moment he opens his mouth to speak.

“Get away from the stove if you want us to eat something tonight, Choi San,” he says, his voice hoarse.

San pats his ass as he approaches the table to inspect the marinated meat and sliced veggies. “Why the formalities?”

“Told you. I’m hungry and I want to eat. Although…” he hums in approval. “Good job preparing all this. Maybe you’re not an entirely lost cause.”

“No point in me cooking when you’re much better at it than me. But I do want to ease your work from time to time.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes before kissing him.

San blinks. “What was that all about?”

“You’re so sweet, I’m this close to asking you to fuck me a fourth time. But I can’t get distracted when I’m this hungry, so let’s change the subject.”

Wooyoung cooks like he always does—with boundless patience and passion. He turns on a chill playlist on his phone and lets it play on the counter as he turns his attention to the pot of rice and pan sizzling with meat and veggies.

San hovers behind him, asking for tips, or simply chatting away about the simple things—the book they’re both reading at the moment, their plans for New Year, that new restaurant that recently opened quite close to their dorms that they’ve been meaning to check out for ages. When Wooyoung becomes too engrossed in his activities, San feels drawn by a gravitational pull before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, hugging him from behind. Wooyoung reacts with a small smile, his focus unperturbed as he picks up some rice with a wooden spoon, pressing it to San’s lips to check it after blowing on it to cool it off.

“Still needs some time,” San declares, watching Wooyoung nod in approval before placing the rice back in the pot.

It smells so good. The chatter dies down, both of them too tired to wrack their brains for more subjects of discussion and too hungry to pay attention to anything else other than the meat and veggies reaching the desired color and consistency in the pan.

A familiar song comes up on shuffle, one that San can’t help but hum against Wooyoung’s neck. It’s more than enough to make Wooyoung slump in his arms, swaying to the slow pace of the song before turning around and pulling San closer for a kiss. It’s sweet, chaste, and when their mouths separate and Wooyoung looks up at him with his eyes crinkled at the corners, San realizes just how domestic this is. But before he can comment on it, Wooyoung turns his attention back to the meat, cautious not to overcook it.

San, of course, takes care of the dishes afterward.

 

 

It’s cold outside.

Duh. It’s the end of October. Climate change or not, summer is long gone. San eyes the pool, but as much as he wants to go for a swim, he knows he’s going to freeze his ass off. He might give it a try tomorrow afternoon, at least to dust off his swimming skills, but for now, he glances away from it.

The jacuzzi is close to the pool, sheltered by a wooden gazebo. Maybe San should go inside and put some sweats on because waiting outside in the cold only wearing a tank top and his swimming trunks was probably not one of his brightest ideas. But then again, Wooyoung was supposed to come join him a while ago, but he is taking his sweet time once more.

Finally, San hears a door opening and closing. Wooyoung makes his way to the gazebo with some towels in his arms. When they make eye contact, he raises an eyebrow.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asks.

San assumes he’s referring to his top. “So I won’t freeze to death while waiting for you? Obviously I’m not going in the water with it.”

Wooyoung shakes his head. He drops the towels on the rack next to the jacuzzi and pulls at the waistband of San’s trunks before letting it slap against his hip.

“Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Wooyoung leans into his space with a grin, taking off his own pants. “We’re alone, San-ah.” He’s not wearing underwear. “No one will see us.”

San is silent, taken aback. All he can do is watch Wooyoung tie his hair up in a ponytail so as to not get it wet before stepping into the hot water of the jacuzzi. “If you don’t join me, that’s your loss, you know.”

Fuck it. In not even five seconds, San undresses and takes his spot next to Wooyoung, sighing with relief as the hot water surrounds him.

“One sec. There should be a button somewhere around… Aha!”

San isn’t sure what Wooyoung just did, but the water starts bubbling, almost as if it’s boiling. Wooyoung presses some more buttons on the side, which turned on some pink and blue lights under the water.

“Really setting up the mood here, huh?” San asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at him. “Shut up,” he says before letting his head fall on San’s shoulder.

How long has it been since they had time off together? San recalls having a bit of time off after their North American tour was over, but it didn’t really amount to much. Both of them were too exhausted to plan anything, so they ended up rotting in bed, eating ice cream and watching anime. Then there was Chuseok, but they didn’t spend it together. Both of their families ended up having friends and relatives over, so San and Wooyoung didn’t get to celebrate together. After all, no one from their families outside of their parents and siblings know of their relationship, so visiting each other was a recipe for disaster.

It hurts having to hide, but they wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s the safest way they can live their lives, their only way to keep their careers. Even if society was accepting enough, they probably wouldn’t end up revealing their relationships to the public anyway, no matter how much San dreams of doing just that sometimes. But that’s all they are—dreams, nothing else. Having the media scrutinize their interactions at any given moment would be too exhausting, and most fans would not take the news well in the slightest.

It’s better like this, San tells himself. He truly wouldn’t have it any other way. But a part of him still hurts.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when Wooyoung nuzzles against his chest with a pleased hum. “I missed you so much.”

“Why do you say that as if I’ve been away for years?”

Wooyoung doesn’t give an immediate response. Under the water, he runs a hand up and down San’s thigh. “Sometimes it feels that way. I just… wish we could have these moments more often.”

San tenses up at the raw sadness in Wooyoung’s voice, suddenly aware that this conversation isn’t just their usual chatter and is turning serious. He tugs Wooyoung closer, encouraging him to go on with a squeeze at his bicep.

“I know it’s stupid. And I know I’m already asking for too much. My family loves you. Yours love me too. They will always support us. Our members too. Sometimes I sit back and think just how lucky we got. When we told the company about us, they could have also split us apart if they wanted to, but they didn’t. Well, I guess they still ended up doing it somehow, huh…” Wooyoung chuckles bitterly as he trails off.

“Hey. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s entirely my fault and you know it.” Wooyoung sighs, slumping against San’s shoulder. “You were so cute. I don’t know what got into me, I just… really wanted to kiss you. I didn’t even get to do that and I had all the higher-ups on my ass three days later when videos popped up on the internet.”

San kisses the crown of Wooyoung’s head, trying to ease his sulking. “It’s okay. They overreacted, anyway. People outside of our fanbase forgot about it not even a week later.”

“Yeah, but they don’t trust me around you anymore. As if I’m a newbie and not a professional. We both are. Do they really think I’d just throw both of our careers in the gutter? Take down the other members with us too?”

“You know how it is,” San says gravely. “We’re the image of the company. If we do something that might endanger us, the company goes down in flames together with us. Placing restrictions on us is their only way to make sure we don’t self-destruct, I guess.”

“They wouldn’t have to do that if they trusted me.” Wooyoung’s hand freezes over the ink on San’s thigh. When he speaks, he sounds like he’s on the verge of crying. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No,” San replies vehemently, pulling him even closer. “You’re the smartest person I know. Most careful, too. You just sometimes… think with your heart, not your brain.”

Wooyoung looks up with wobbly eyes. He lets go of the shared promise on San’s thigh and brings his hand to San’s face, thumbing at his cheek. “I love you so much, my heart is sometimes on the verge of bursting. I wish I didn’t have to hide what you mean to me just to not be in danger. And I wish the company didn’t split us apart so many times, even though it’s for our own sake because my fuck up attracted the wrong kind of attention.”

San takes Wooyoung’s hand in his, but not before kissing it. “You can still approach me every time you want. I’ll never push you away, you know that, right? Never.”

“Can’t,” Wooyoung replies with a miserable shake of his head. “At least, not as much as I want to. When we discussed it with the higher-ups, we agreed to that, too.”

“Maybe we can rediscuss the terms,” San prompts, trying to lighten the mood with a cheerful smile. “Contract renewal is just around the corner.”

Wooyoung drops his hand back in the water. “I’m not so sure. You recall how vehement they were. Plus, they never went back on our livestreaming ban from… five years ago? Fuck, has it really been that long?”

San isn’t sure what to say. He wishes things were different. Going back to the times when they used to hide in plain sight would do wonders for Wooyoung’s happiness, but it might also attract new eyes on their relationship. After all, they’ve been flying under the radar for the past year and a half, so maybe them being split apart isn’t that bad of a thing.

At the same time, though, San resonates with what Wooyoung said. Deeply.

Well. They’re gonna have to discuss this in the coming days. Maybe, just maybe, they can convince the higher-ups to reach a consensus.

San doubts it, but he doesn’t want to make Wooyoung even gloomier. He pokes him in the ribs instead. “Is that why you’ve been so clingy these past few weeks?”

A shy smile breaks on Wooyoung’s face. “Maybe.” He reaches out behind him, fishing his phone from where he left it above the towels. After scrolling a bit, he angles the screen against his chest so that San can’t see its contents. “Wanted to show you something.”

Wooyoung finally lets him see some pictures for the recent photoshoot he attended. San thought it was a solo schedule, but there’s a companion next to him in some of the photos.

“Two black kitties in the same frame,” San coos, cheekily including Wooyoung.

“It was so fluffy. And cute. I loved it so much.”

“Did you ask them if you could keep it?”

Wooyoung scoffs with a smile. He shuts off the screen and places the phone back where he took it from. “Of course not. Even if they miraculously let me keep it, I wouldn’t have the time to take care of it.”

San nods, pulling Wooyoung back in his space, who accepts the arm around his waist without complaining. The talks about his photoshoot brightened up the atmosphere briefly, but now it’s back to the melancholic vibe from when Wooyoung poured out his sorrowful heart for San to see.

The silence weighs heavily on them like a blanket until Wooyoung finally breaks it. “Hey, Sannie?”

“Yeah?”

“Once we stop being idols because our joints ache too much to dance on stage anymore, or once we start drifting into anonymity, can we get a cat? If we still can’t have kids by then?”

San suddenly feels his eyes sting. He blames it on the chlorine in the jacuzzi water. The grip on Wooyoung’s waist tightens almost imperceptibly, but he knows Wooyoung senses it nonetheless.

The only thing San can say without his voice betraying him is, “Yes.”

Notes:

sorry for the feels at the end (im not sorry)

as i was writing this i was debating whether i should add it to my ongoing canon compliant series. i wasn't planning to, but that white skirt they mention is supposed to make an appearance in that series at some point, so... you can treat this as part 5 until i write the other parts in between? lol

edit: wait nvm i just noticed that (in this fic) they got together sometime around valentine's day, which is nowhere near the timeline of my canon compliant series sjdkxk anyway!)

and speaking of my canon compliant series, i haven't forgotten about it! i was planning to write part 3 next, but i kinda wanna take a break from writing pwps for the time being (and part 3 is gonna be very important bc of... *spoilers*) but yeah haha, it's on my priority wips list but it might take me a while to get to it because i have exams coming up and i'll also be away for most of february (i'm seeing ateez live! twice! yippee)

expect, however, absolution part 2 next (though this one won't be a pwp, as you will see)

many thanks once again to em who made the original post of wooyoung coming on san's face when san kisses his tattoo mid-blowjob. as u can see i adapted that a bit, but the idea was sooo good, i'm so glad she let me use it ♪(´▽｀)

you can find me on twitter if you wanna hear me yap about these soulmates more. thank you for reading!