Work Text:
“San-ah—are you even listening to me?”
San looks up at Wooyoung and smiles sweetly. Wooyoung’s tail is swishing. He’s not mad at him—he rarely is. “Of course I’m listening, Woo-ya.” Wooyoung pouts and San wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.
Wooyoung crosses his arms. He raises an eyebrow, and San’s throat goes dry. Wooyoung’s so cute when he’s annoyed. “What did I say?”
“Something about quantum physics?” San says. Wooyoung rolls his eyes. He smiles, and his ears twitch. “Sorry, Woo-ya, I was distracted.”
It’s the truth. San’s been distracted for six long years and fifteen long days. It’s not Wooyoung’s fault he’s so perfect and pretty. Still, it’s hard not to short circuit when Wooyoung leans closer. He’s so cute and he smells like candy—
“Earth to Sannie,” Wooyoung says. His hair’s getting longer. It’s down to the base of his neck, fluffy enough to cover his ears. “Walk me to class?”
San nods faster than he should. He’d carry Wooyoung around the world if the other boy asked him to. After half a decade, Wooyoung must know that.
Wooyoung is always drawn to his side. His soft tail wraps around San’s wrist as they leave their apartment. If San wasn’t a coward, he’d hold his hand.
According to his research, some cats are more possessive than others. Wooyoung burns so brightly, there’s no way he isn’t protective over what’s his. There’s a part of San that wishes Wooyoung would stake his claim, hiss when people get near, mark San as his. But this is enough for now.
San feels like a creep for noticing the way Wooyoung’s shirt falls off his shoulder, how smooth his stomach looks when he stretches. He feels even worse when Wooyoung sits next to him and his head gets all cloudy.
“Yunho-hyung’s having a party,” Wooyoung says. He presses the elevator button with his tail, a fun party trick, but it returns to San’s wrist immediately. “Are you going?”
San shrugs. Going to a house and drinking until he’s sick sounds fine enough, but watching other people watch Wooyoung is torturous. Still, he smiles. “I’ll go if you go, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung purrs softly. Cats usually purr when they’re comfortable, and the implication—delusion—is enough for San to get by on. San is just happy to stay in Wooyoung’s orbit, forbidden to touch and let love crawl out of his mouth.
“Dinner later?” Wooyoung asks. The morning light is blinding, but it makes Wooyoung look like an angel. “I was gonna make chicken.” His soft black hair falls past his eyes, and San stops to brush it away. Wooyoung looks up at him, pupils dilated.
“That sounds great, Young-ah,” San says. He keeps walking like his heart isn’t in his throat. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”
Wooyoung’s lips curl into a devilish smile. “Only if I get to pick.” Their shoulders touch and it’s electric. Wooyoung must know he has San wrapped around his finger.
San swallows thickly. “Anything you want, Woo-ya.”
🍊
It all goes downhill from there.
Something shifts and Wooyoung's suddenly ten times clinger. He's hanging off San like a spider monkey, batting his eyes in a way that almost feels malicious. He's mastered the art of seduction, and his every move is doing dangerous things to San’s heart.
Before San can stop himself, he pictures sweet, pretty Wooyoung on his knees in the shower. He imagines the smaller boy pressed against the mirror, breath fogging up the glass. Some might call him sick and twisted, getting hard at the thought of seeing his best friend teary-eyed and wrecked.
It's not San's fault. It's not Wooyoung's fault, either. It was a cruel and beautiful twist of fate that placed Wooyoung in San's lap. Loving Wooyoung has always been non-negotiable.
Wooyoung says his name so softly. Almost like he's whining. It's too easy to imagine Wooyoung whimpering under him, lips bitten and cheeks flushed red, thighs shaking from overstimulation. Maybe Wooyoung will ask San to rub his ears or pull his tail.
“San-ah?” Wooyoung peeks around the half wall and smiles. The smell of fish sauce hits his nose and his eyes widen. “I’m making dinner.”
San forces himself to look Wooyoung in the eyes. He avoids staring at his lips for about five seconds before he caves. They’re pretty and pink like the beginning of spring.
San reaches over. He gently pets Wooyoung's head, and the other boy purrs. He leans into the touch, but he probably does that with everyone. San hasn't yet deluded himself into thinking he's anything more than Wooyoung's best friend.
The situation is nauseatingly domestic. Wooyoung’s hair is tied into a little ponytail, and he’s wearing the apron San bought him for his eighteenth birthday. He’s so cute. San wants to pamper him and ruin him. San knows his face is red, lips pursed as he tries not to combust. “How much tofu do you want?”
San swallows thickly. He's been swallowing so much, so thickly that it's starting to hurt. “Anything is fine, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung clicks his tongue. “You need to eat, Sannie,” he says. He flips the scallion pancakes with practiced ease. “Sit down and I'll make your plate.”
Wooyoung's talking to him like they've been married for years, and in San's mind, they have. In his fantasy, they've moved into a real house with a nice view. Maybe they have a dog, because Wooyoung’s the only cat he needs.
“You're thinking too loud, San-ah.” Wooyoung sets a plate of tofu stir-fry in front of him. When he leans over, San gets a glimpse of his collarbone and his mouth waters.
San sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, Young-ah,” he says. Wooyoung takes the seat beside him and looks at him softly. “I'm just worried about work study.”
“You'll get the job,” Wooyoung says. He reaches forward with a piece of tofu between his chopsticks. They touch San's lips and he opens his mouth without thinking. This isn't the first time Wooyoung has fed him, but it never fails to make his head spin. He’s so gone for Wooyoung, head over heels and knee deep.
San can’t stop thinking about finally resting his hands on Wooyoung’s waist and squeezing. Wooyoung seems like the type to lead, sit in San’s lap and take what he wants, kiss him breathless. Maybe he’s the opposite. Maybe he’ll take what San gives him.
San picks up a pair of chopsticks and lifts a piece of beef to Wooyoung’s lips. Wooyoung smiles, tail swishing lazily. “Thank you, Sannie.”
San worries himself sick thinking about Wooyoung catching on, catching San in his state of total infatuation. Some may call it obsession. San knows the truth is somewhere in the middle.
According to his high school gym teacher, San can’t score without shooting. But if he misses, he’s doomed to spend the rest of his college years in the building lounge, stuck with a roommate who thinks he’s a creep.
“San-ah, you're barely eating!” Wooyoung pouts. His shirt rides up and San can see the smooth curve of his waist. “Do you not like it?”
San chokes. “Young-ah—of course I like it,” he says. The words get stuck in his throat. The phrase “I love you” has been lodged in there for years. “I'm sorry. I'm all yours now.”
All yours? San doesn't know who the hell he thinks he is.
Wooyoung beams, bright and so pretty. He leans forward and pecks San on the cheek. His lips are warm and soft and San wants—needs—to feel them on his own.
When Wooyoung pulls away, San is blushing, stuttering over his words like a horny, lovestruck teenager. Wooyoung just kissed him. Wooyoung just kissed him.
Another thick swallow. San is utterly fucked.
🍇
“Sannie—have you seen my socks?” Wooyoung comes out of the bathroom in a pair of jeans and the thinnest leopard print shirt San has ever seen. When San looks up from his phone, he's blinded by Wooyoung's beauty, stunned into silence.
“San-ah.” Wooyoung's next to him now. He pouts, and San wants to kiss him so fucking badly it hurts. His head spins and Wooyoung is all he can see through the haze. His lips look candied, sugar-coated. Wooyoung sounds a little whiny and San can't help but wonder what he sounds like when he gets fucked.
San's heart squeezes in his chest, and it aches. He wants—needs—to be the only one hearing Wooyoung cry and whimper, watching him bite his hand to muffle his whines. Wooyoung’s ears probably twitch when he cums.
Wooyoung's shirt rides up every time he moves his arms. His skin is so pretty and tan. San is greedy. He lets himself stare for longer than he should.
“Pretty.” It was supposed to be an inside thought, but the word leaves San’s lips before he can stop himself. Wooyoung freezes for a second. It almost looks like he’s blushing.
“I know I’m hot, San-ah,” Wooyoung says. He smirks like the sly cat he is. He’s such a brat. “But can you focus for a second?”
San flushes. “I wasn't—!” he swallows thickly. “I don't have your socks. Did you check the dryer?”
Wooyoung sighs. His Adam's apple bobs every time he swallows. San wants to lick the sweat off his skin, leave bruises all over Wooyoung’s body and mark his territory. “That's the first place I checked.”
San hums softly. “Sorry, Young-ah,” he says. Wooyoung’s tail swishes slowly behind him. “You can take mine if you want.”
Wooyoung smiles. The sun smiles with him. “You’re sweet, San-ah.” He sits beside him and pulls San into a hug. He smells so good—like Lush body wash and warm brown sugar.
When they pull apart, San's looking at Wooyoung with wide eyes. His heart's beating against his ribcage, begging to escape. “I'll have to roll them up,” Wooyoung says. “You're a lot bigger than me, Sannie.”
San nearly moans at that. “I’m trying to do you a favor, Young-ah,” he says. He grabs a pillow and strategically places it over his crotch. “Where are you going, anyway?”
“Sangie’s going to a junior mixer and I told him I’d come,” Wooyoung replies. “Wanna go? I know it’s not really your thing.”
San shakes his head. Wooyoung knows him too well. “I’m just gonna say hi and leave,” Wooyoung says. “Movie tonight?”
San frowns. “Young-ah, have fun,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.”
Wooyoung leans over and pecks his cheek. Love blooms where lips met heated skin. “I am gonna have fun, Sannie,” he replies. He rubs his cheek against San’s. It’s a cat thing. “Here—with you.” His breath is warm and sugary sweet. “I’m always gonna choose you.”
San swallows down the lump in his throat. “Young-ah,” he whispers. “Stay safe, okay? Call me if you need anything.”
Wooyoung nods. He stands up and stretches his back like a cat—did he cut a hole in his jeans? San hates to see him go, but he loves to watch him leave.
🍓
Warm water trickles down San’s spine and soothes his aching shoulders. Being in love and being a student is a heavy load to carry.
Wooyoung would probably be disgusted if he knew San was touching himself to the thought of his much smaller, daintier hands wrapped around his cock.
San thinks about what Wooyoung said before he left the house. Wooyoung knows that San's bigger than him. San's not the only one who noticed the way his shirts slide off Wooyoung's shoulder, the way his pants rest low on his hips.
Wooyoung looked at him so sweetly. He always looks at San like he's the rest of his life. Being in love with Wooyoung is like dragging his tongue across the blade of a candy-coated knife. San's one wrong move away from getting bloodstains on his teeth.
“Young-ah,” San says softly. He pictures Wooyoung on his knees and his cock twitches. Wooyoung would probably drool all over his cock, looking San straight in the eyes like a sly cat.
Wooyoung's always been a little possessive. Maybe he'll sink his manicured claws into San's skin and his tail will stay wrapped around San's wrist.
Wooyoung's never brought anyone home, but he's too pretty not to have touched himself. He pictures Wooyoung wearing San's clothes while he fingers himself open in his bedroom.
San wraps a hand around his cock. He imagines Wooyoung presses against the glass shower walls, pretty legs wrapped around San's waist as the other boy guides him onto his cock.
“Young-ah—shit—” San shudders and his eyes roll back. Getting off is hard without picturing Wooyoung's sweet face. It's too much. He's too much and he's terrified he's not enough.
Wooyoung needs to be taken care of, needs San to fuck him gently and cuddle him to sleep. He'll ask for a lot more—he always does, but he'll take what San gives him.
San cums with a groan, biting his bottom lip as he fucks into his fist. In his fantasies, Wooyoung's the one licking San's cum from his bottom lip.
San walks out of the bathroom with a grey towel wrapped around his face. He peers into Wooyoung's empty room. He's unsure whether to feel guilty or warm.
“Sannie?”
San turns around to see Wooyoung standing in the main entryway, lips pink and hair ruffled from the wind. Wooyoung stares him up and down, and San swears he sees his tail twitch.
San swallows thickly. “Young-ah—you're home.”
“The party was lame, anyway,” he says. He stares at San and practically purrs. “You look really good, San-ah.”
San barely chokes out a thank you before Wooyoung disappears into the kitchen. Wooyoung was probably looking at his arms—San’s been working on his biceps. But there's a louder, hornier part of his brain wondering if Wooyoung was wishing his towel would drop.
Ten seconds later, San finds himself in the shower again.
🍇
“Sannie—can you please read it to me again?”
Wooyoung's ears twitch and his tail wraps around San's wrist. San's been trying to choose a movie for the past ten minutes, but Wooyoung has other plans. San can tell he’s tired, fighting his heavy eyelids.
San flushes. “Friday the Thirteenth,” he says. “You've seen it before, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung smiles. He looks at him softly. “I like hearing you speak English,” he says. San swallows. “What about that one?”
“Swallowed,” San replies. The cover of the movie is suggestive enough—not the greatest reviews. He imagines Wooyoung tipping his head back and letting San leave marks all over his neck. “I think it's body horror.”
Wooyoung hums. His tail leaves San's wrist and swishes lazily. His hair is still a little damp, but he smells like sticky sugar and strawberry candy. He’s wearing one of San’s new shirts, and he smells a little like him. “Let’s watch that one.”
San picks up the remote. He pauses. “You really like when I speak English?”
Wooyoung purrs softly. “Of course I do,” he replies. “It's sexy.” He moves closer and rests his head on San's shoulder like he isn't giving him an aching hard-on. Jung Wooyoung thinks he’s sexy.
The movie is a little weird. The main actor is pretty, with curly hair and a sharp jawline. He reminds San of Wooyoung. Wooyoung is prettier, of course.
San immediately notices the tension between the main character and his best friend. His best friend has clearly been in love with him for years. San grits his teeth. Picking this movie must have been some kind of cosmic punishment.
Wooyoung's barely paying attention to the movie, choosing instead to rest his eyes and snuggle against San's chest. San is sure he can hear the incessant beating of his heart.
Wooyoung's eyelashes flutter against his cheeks when he blinks. His eyes move slowly. According to his research, cats do that to show affection. Wooyoung cares about him, San knows. That fact makes everything worse.
San keeps his eyes focused on the movie. They’re ten minutes in and it’s starting to get uncomfortable. “Did you have fun at the party?” He asks.
Wooyoung shakes his head. His soft ears brush against San's cheek. “Was lame,” he replies. “Missed you.”
San's heart squeezes in his chest and juices drip from his ribcage. This must be a sick joke. “I missed you too,” he says. He wraps an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders and pets his head. The other boy leans into the touch.
Wooyoung’s so comfortable, practically melting into San’s skin. San could die happy, just like this, and the thought makes his throat dry.
It hurts San’s heart to rub his head and watch him stir. San stands up, and Wooyoung nearly hisses. San’s eyes widen. “‘M just getting water, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung pouts. He watches San walk to the kitchen and nearly trip on the way there. Wooyoung’s never hissed at him before. The other boy isn’t mad at him—San would know.
San returns with two glasses of water—one sparkling, and sets them on the coffee table. Wooyoung watching, impatiently waiting for him to sit down again. He immediately rests his head on San’s chest. He belongs here.
San smiles. He grabs the remote and rewinds to the last scene. Wooyoung scrunches his nose and squints. Cute. “Are you even watching the movie?”
Wooyoung shakes his head. “You'll tell me about it later,” he says softly. San will. “You're warm.”
The main character has his fingers buried deep inside his friend, while the other man writhes underneath him. San looks down and tries not to notice his cock twitching in his pants. It's too easy to imagine Wooyoung under him, begging San to just fuck him already.
“Young-ah?” San says. He glances over to see Wooyoung fast asleep on his shoulder, ears twitching when he breathes. San brushes the stray hair out of his face. Wooyoung moves closer.
“Sannie?” Wooyoung whispers. He's purring, nose buried in the crook of San's neck.
“Did I wake you?” San asks. “‘M sorry.” He moves his hand, but Wooyoung frowns.
“Keep doing that,” Wooyoung says. He's quiet, like he's afraid to ask San for more. “Please—feels good.”
San’s breath catches in his throat. Wooyoung sounds so sweet, whiny and soft and a little desperate. “Anything you want, Woo-ya,” he replies. He runs his fingers through Wooyoung's soft hair, watching the other boy lean into the touch. Wooyoung closes his eyes and curls into San's chest.
One of the main characters ends up dying, but not without telling his best friend how he feels. Under the searing heat of the TV, San’s heart threatens to jump out of his ribcage and escape through his mouth.
Wooyoung's tail stays wrapped around him until the movie's over.
🍓
It's the middle of the night when Wooyoung pads into his room, lips curled into a frown. He looks so small. San's t-shirt pools around his waist and the sight makes his heart ache. “Sannie?” He asks. “San-ah?”
San immediately sits up. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Anything for Wooyoung. “Young-ah?” He gestures for Wooyoung to come closer. “What's up?”
“Can't sleep,” Wooyoung says. His ears are pulled back, tail hidden under his shirt.
“Woo-ya,” San murmurs. There's so much he wants to say. Words threaten to crawl out of his throat but he swallows them down. “C'mere.”
San pulls back the covers and makes space beside him. Wooyoung slides into his bed and purrs softly. Even when Wooyoung's in the opposite room, San imagines him here anyway.
“Bad dream?” San asks. He adjusts the blanket and wraps an arm around Wooyoung's shoulders. Wooyoung relaxes into his touch. He's warm.
Wooyoung shrugs. “Felt kinda lonely,” he says softly. His tail tickles San's ankles under the covers. It eventually wraps around his wrist and it feels like Wooyoung is holding his hand.
San rubs circles into Wooyoung's back. Wooyoung feels so small in his hands. San imagines Wooyoung standing outside his room, debating whether to knock or open the door. He swallows. “'M sorry.”
Wooyoung looks up at him. His eyes are soft, sparkly and round. “Don't apologize, San-ah,” he says. His scent fills San's lungs like winter frost clinging to glass. San aches to apologize again—about everything—but Wooyoung rubs his cheek against San's chest. “You're cute, Sannie.”
“I'm cute?” San asks. He pulls Wooyoung a little closer. Wooyoung's purring like a motorboat, loud in a soft way.
Wooyoung nods. He rests his head on San's chest and closes his eyes. San doesn't stop rubbing his back. He could never stop staring at Wooyoung with all the sickly sweet love in the world.
San gently brushes Wooyoung's hair out of his eyes. “You don't have to sleep alone, Woo-ya,” he says. He doesn't add a stupid line about the depths of their friendship, lest he dig his hole deeper, fill it with jagged scrap metal and jump in headfirst.
Wooyoung scoots up. He buries his face in San's neck. San feels the ghost of Wooyoung's lips on his skin. “I don't?” Wooyoung asks.
They're both sleepy and a little delirious, but San's nerves are on fire. Wooyoung’s so close, to San’s heartbeat and the rest of his sugar-coated insides. “Never,” he replies.
Wooyoung purrs a little louder. “You'll stay with me, San-ah?” His voice is sugary sweet, cavity-inducing. San's never seen him like this before.
San nods. “Always.” He presses a chaste kiss against Wooyoung's head. The other boy probably doesn't feel it.
Wooyoung sniffs. “Thank you, Sannie,” he says. He closes his eyes and his breathing finally evens out. Every part of his being clings to San.
San smiles. His face aches, but his heart feels even worse. Under the thick covers and the city lights, San fully believes he has a chance with the boy in his arms.
Wooyoung's tail wraps around his wrist, and San chooses to believe it's quiet devotion.
“Goodnight, Young-ah.”
🍌
“Damn it.” San winces when he spills half a cup of Downy on the floor and it seeps in through the holes in his Crocs. His hands shake as he screws the cap back on and sets the mesh hamper on the floor.
The thumping of the washing machine is exactly what San hears when the room is silent, save for his urgent heartbeat. Even the smell of detergent isn't enough to cover the smell of Wooyoung's clothes—sticky sweet and unmistakably him.
San's finger twitches. Wooyoung's scent clings to his skin and San can feel his inhibitions rotting like a watermelon under the blazing sun. Wooyoung represents the seeds, the thoughts that stay.
There's no one around. Everyone's out partying, getting drunk or consuming whole watermelons for ten dollars. No one would notice if San gave in just a little bit. San wants—needs—to bury his nose in Wooyoung's neck and breathe him in.
Wooyoung's clothes smell like candy. San knows exactly what perfume he uses, what shampoo and body wash he buys from Lush. Wooyoung probably tastes heavenly, too. It’s easy to imagine bending Wooyoung over the kitchen counter and thrusting his tongue into his hole.
“Young-ah,” San whispers, like Wooyoung's the one forcing him to be a pervert. It's San's own fault for falling for the prettiest boy in the universe. He's in over his neck, neck-deep in saccharine-sweet desire.
San feels pathetic. He could probably cum just like this, jacking off while imagining Wooyoung's scent filling his lungs while San fills him. He has—many times.
San rests his hand on the edge of the hamper. The flimsy pink plastic dips under his weight. Wooyoung has yet to accompany him to the gym. It's probably better that way. San would probably get distracted and drop a fifty-pound weight on his toes.
San's knee bumps into the hamper and it turns on its side. Wooyoung's pretty cropped shirt is at the top of the pile. San's mouth waters and his cock twitches in his pants.
The heart wants what it wants, and San's bleeding heart has wanted Wooyoung for half a decade. Wooyoung won't notice if this shirt goes missing. He has so many clothes that he's taken over San's dresser.
Just picturing Wooyoung in the shirt has San leaking in his pants. He always stretches, back arched like a bow. San can always see a sliver of tanned skin, always imagines running his tongue along Wooyoung's tummy and making him whine. Wooyoung’s ears and tail would probably twitch as he begs San for more.
Wooyoung usually pairs the shirt with tight jean shorts. He sits next to San, unaware of the way his ass presses against his thigh. He giggles and curls into San like he isn't actively setting his heart on fire.
San has twenty hours to make his move. If he doesn't confess to Wooyoung soon, anyone else could. There's that nice man down the hall, or the chill pothead on the second floor. San can't live in his own world where gods grow on grapevines.
San picks up the fallen clothes and shoves them into the dryer, save for the shirt. He pours another cup of detergent and closes the door.
Wooyoung's shirt still smells like him when San tucks it into his pocket and slips out the back entrance.
🍓
San practically slams the door behind him. Wooyoung's shoes are gone and his keys aren't sitting on the kitchen counter. He must be out.
San slips off his shoes and makes a beeline for his bedroom. Wooyoung usually ends up in his bed anyway. San's blanket and pillows smell like him.
San doesn't chide himself for being delusional. Wooyoung sleeps in his bed, thinks his English accent is sexy, and looks at San like he's the rest of his life. San can't help but read between the lines. It’s less of a reach and more of an analysis.
San hides under the covers and lifts Wooyoung's shirt to his nose. It smells a little like Victoria's Secret body spray and appletinis, but it's still unmistakably Wooyoung’s. Sweet, pretty, perfect—Wooyoung’s.
It's projection, San knows, but his mind immediately conjures images of Wooyoung in his position, fingering himself open with one of San's sweaty tank tops pressed against his nose. San imagines Wooyoung biting his tail in an attempt to muffle his whines.
San's mouth waters. He spits in his hand and wraps it around his leaking cock. The slide is slick and all San can picture is Wooyoung's pink tongue pressed against the slit.
“Shit—Youngie,” San whimpers. He'd let Wooyoung do anything to him. He'd let Wooyoung manhandle him, use his cock to get himself off. Wooyoung could edge San until he cries and he'd still thank him.
San tightens his fist around his cock. Wooyoung's sugary scent fills his lungs and San pictures the other boy gripping his shoulders and bouncing on his cock, tail swishing wildly behind him.
“Nngh—Youngie—fuck—” San's cock twitches and his eyes roll back. His fist—Wooyoung's hole—is so wet and sticky and San wants to stay inside him forever. Wooyoung would probably let him.
San slows his pace. In his mind, Wooyoung's moving his hips, grinding down on San's cock and staring down at the bulge in his stomach. He bites San's neck and kisses him until their lips are spit-slick and swollen. Wooyoung grinds down harder, milks San dry and lets his cum run down his thighs.
San's so fucking close it hurts. His cock aches. He's lovesick and Wooyoung is the only cure.
“Youngie—please.” Tears pool in the corners of San's eyes as Wooyoung kisses him breathless. He feels so good and he’s so pretty and San’s so in love.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung purrs. “You'll cum inside me, right?” He asks the question so sweetly. It barely registers in San's mind.
San just nods. “Anything—ah—anything you want, Youngie.”
Wooyoung's tail wraps around his wrist and he tugs, a little possessive. San loves him like this. “Sannie,” he pouts. “Call me baby.”
San's eyes flutter closed. Wooyoung's mouth is on his chest, teeth scraping against his nipples. “Baby—Youngie.”
Wooyoung's ears twitch. “That's better,” he says softly. His long dark hair falls into his eyes and San reaches over to brush it away. “You're all mine, Sannie.”
San just nods. “Yours,” he whispers. He presses his thumb against the slit of his cock. He's so close. He'll cum when Wooyoung tells him to. “All yours, Young-ah.”
“Sannie?”
San freezes.
Wooyoung's standing in the doorway, balancing two iced coffees on top of a box of donuts. San immediately pulls his hand out of his pants and shoves the shirt under the covers. The damage has already been done.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung whispers. San's never seen him this quiet. His eyes are wide, tail swishing slowly.
San swallows thickly. “Young-ah,” he says. He sits up and leans against the headboard. “Shit—'m so sorry.”
“It's my fault,” Wooyoung says. His left ear twitches. “I should've knocked.” He looks at the lump under the covers, then back at San. Their eyes lock and San wants to evaporate. “Is that my shirt?”
Maybe this is all a dream. San pinches himself, but all he gets is a shot of pain that he feels in his toes. He forces himself to nod. Lying won't get him anywhere when Wooyoung's already suspicious. He’s supposed to take the leap, after all.
Wooyoung moves closer. He leaves his things on the desk and approaches San with pink painted cheeks. San’s hand is by his side, but his cock is still hard in his pants. He can't fix his problem, not with Wooyoung right beside him, staring at him with flecks of gold in his eyes.
San half expects Wooyoung to leave. Things will never be the same, but San can pretend. They both can.
“I was looking for that,” Wooyoung says softly. He moves even closer until he's by San's bedside like a cold glass of water. He doesn’t sound mad enough. He doesn’t sound mad at all.
“Young-ah—Wooyoung,” San whispers. “I'm really sorry.” He apologizes without specifics, because telling Wooyoung he's sorry for jerking off with his shirt sounds unsavory. He’s sorry for everything, not just tonight.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung reaches for San's hand. San lets him take it. His skin is warm. ”I'm not mad.”
Wooyoung's tail wraps around his wrist like nothing's wrong. He moves closer, further into San’s orbit. “You're not?” San asks, eyes wide. He's close to tears, close to getting on his knees and begging Wooyoung for forgiveness.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung says. His voice is so soft. San worries he might sob. “Can't you tell I love you?” San feels the warmth of his blood pulsing through his veins. “I've been so obvious.”
San opens his mouth, then closes it. He opens it again. “You love me?” He asks. His concerns seem stupid now. Everything else is meaningless now that he knows Wooyoung loves him.
Wooyoung rubs his cheek against San's. His sugary scent fills his lungs and San gets a little dizzy. “Sannie,” he purrs. He kisses his cheek, then the tip of his nose. According to his research, Wooyoung’s scenting. San’s never seen him do this with anyone else.
Wooyoung's white shirt hangs off his shoulder, exposing his pretty collarbones. His bangs fall into his eyes. “Do you love me, San-ah?” He asks sweetly, looking at San through his eyelashes.
San nods so hard he gives himself whiplash. “Fuck—yes, Young-ah,” he says. “I love you so much.”
Wooyoung smiles and laughs, sugary sweet and pretty. “I know you do, Sannie,” he says. “You're kinda obvious, too.”
San flushes. It's not news to him. He's been carrying a torch for Wooyoung since he learned the definition of true love. True love is shaped suspiciously like Jung Wooyoung.
“I like you,” San says. The admission crawls out of his throat and San feels free again. “I’ve liked you since high school.”
Wooyoung pouts. “Sannie,” he whines. “We could have been together all this time.”
San tucks a strand of hair behind Wooyoung's hair. “Sorry, Woo-ya,” he says softly. His thumb rests on Wooyoung’s soft bottom lip. “Can I make it up to you?”
Wooyoung nods. His lips brush against San's and his touch is electric. “San-ah,” he says. “What were you doing with my shirt?”
There's a sly smirk on his face, almost too catlike. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear it from San. “Smelling it,” he says. He winces. “While I was jerking off.”
When Wooyoung leans over, his arm brushes against San's aching cock. “Poor Sannie,” he purrs. “You needed me this bad?”
The apples of his cheeks burn. He's both embarrassed and incredibly horny. He nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I need you, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung smiles. “You're big, San-ah,” he says. San's cock twitches. He's so hard it's almost painful. “Were you thinking about fucking me?”
San nods. “Everything,” he says. “I was thinking about all of it.”
Wooyoung cups San's cheek. His thumb rests under his eye, tender. “Tell me everything, San-ah.”
His tone makes San's cock throb. “Kiss first,” he whispers. Wooyoung flushes, ears hidden behind his hair, and he nods.
Wooyoung leans in closer. San cups his face like he's always wanted to. Wooyoung's skin is soft and his eyes are even prettier when they're glazed over.
San finally presses their lips together. Kissing Wooyoung goes exactly the way he rehearsed it. Practicing on his pillows and hand paid off. Wooyoung smiles against his lips. He giggles, high and pretty.
When they pull apart, San kisses the corner of Wooyoung's mouth, the tip of his nose, and the apples of his cheeks. He kisses his forehead, his chin—anything he can reach. Kissing Wooyoung's always been on his bucket list.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung sighs. Their noses brush together. Wooyoung's looking at him so sweetly, with the prettiest hearts in his eyes.
Wooyoung kisses him again, slowly pushing his tongue into San's mouth. He runs his tongue along San's bottom lip, lets drool slide down his chin. Wooyoung kisses him like he's eating San whole.
It hurts San's heart to part for breath. Wooyoung's lips are already swollen, the prettiest shade of red. San wipes the corner of Wooyoung's mouth, before licking his finger clean. Wooyoung tastes like cherries. “San-ah,” Wooyoung whispers. His voice is whiny and a little desperate.
“Young-ah,” San says softly. “You're so pretty.” He slots their lips together again. Wooyoung whines softly, letting San fuck his tongue in and out of his mouth. He's so pliant, so soft and willing in San's hands.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung whimpers. “My Sannie.” He's purring like San's never heard before, loud and high-pitched. He rubs his cheek against San's, tail wrapping around his wrist.
Wooyoung melts into San and lets him take the lead. He looks a little fucked out and San hasn't even touched him yet. Wooyoung purrs louder, burying his face in San's neck.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung says. His scent gets sweeter, and it makes San dizzy. “Say it again.”
San rests a hand in Wooyoung's hair, slowly stroking his ears. He catches the way Wooyoung shudders, the way his whole body trembles at the touch. “Say what, Woo-ya?”
Wooyoung laps at his neck before sinking his kitty teeth into San's skin. “You love me,” he replies quietly. “Wanna hear it again.”
San smiles. He pulls away for a moment. Wooyoung looks sweet and needy, cheeks flushed pink. “I love you,” San says. “My Wooyoungie.”
San feels Wooyoung's cock leaking against his thigh. He pulls Wooyoung into his lap and presses their lips together again. Wooyoung gasps into his mouth and San whimpers at the taste.
Wooyoung bites his bottom lip. He licks into San's mouth, sly kitty that he is. “San-ah,” he says. “You're supposed to tell me everything.”
San reaches for Wooyoung's tail. The other boy chokes on a whine. “You go first,” he says. He toys with the base of Wooyoung's sensitive tail, watching his kitty squirm.
Wooyoung pouts. “Fine,” he says. “Kinda wanna suck you off.”
San's hand settles on Wooyoung's lower back. Wooyoung's leaning into him, clothed hole positioned right over San's leaking cock. Poor baby, San thinks. He probably feels devastatingly empty.
“You don't want me to fuck you?” San asks. He'd feel bad for teasing Wooyoung if it didn't make him so hard. He would be lying if he said Wooyoung didn’t deserve it a little bit.
Wooyoung's tail swishes wildly, almost hitting San in the face and knocking a glass off the nightstand. “Sannie,” he whines. “I want both. Don't tease.”
San cups Wooyoung’s face and kisses the corner of his mouth. He presses his lips against Wooyoung’s throat. “Sorry, Youngie,” he says. “You can have anything you want.”
Wooyoung beams. “I want you.” He crawls off San's lap and sinks to his knees. He looks even better than San imagined. His hair falls into his face and he's ethereal.
He practically rips the blanket away, mouthing at the bulge in San's pants. He presses his thumb against the tip just to see San shiver,
He's rubbing his cheek against San's inner thigh, purring and pressing his lips against San's leaking cock. San is already close, and it takes incredible self control not to cum on the spot.
San tangles his fingers in Wooyoung's hair. He whimpers when San's thumb presses against his sensitive ears. He watches with wide eyes as Wooyoung slides his pants down his thighs.
Wooyoung's mouth waters and his kitty fangs peek out. He stares at San's cock with parted lips. “Sannie,” he whispers, toying with the waistband of San's boxers. His tail swishes behind him before coming to rest on San's thigh.
San strokes the side of his face with his free hand. He nearly cuts his fingers on Wooyoung's sharp jawline. Wooyoung stares up at him through his long eyelashes and San groans.
Wooyoung wraps his hand around San's cock, and his eyes widen at the size. He narrows his eyes, tongue caught between his little fangs. San gently tugs Wooyoung's hair. “Feeling okay, baby?”
Wooyoung nods. “'S just big,” he says. His words are slurred like he's cock drunk already. San bites his bottom lip. Wooyoung's the only one he's seen like this, pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock.
Wooyoung swirls his tongue around the tip of San's cock, feeling the weight on his tongue. Wooyoung purrs, and his pretty eyes flutter closed. Spit slides down his chin and lands on the carpet.
“Youngie,” San says softly. Wooyoung whimpers. His leaking cock presses against the carpet and San just wants to make him feel good. He takes Wooyoung’s ears between his fingers and rubs a little harder.
Wooyoung rests his hands on San's thighs and takes him deeper. Crystal tears slide down his cheeks, but San is quick to wipe them away. Wooyoung looks like an angel when he cries.
Wooyoung whines, high-pitched and pretty, as he grinds his cock against San's foot. Wooyoung's breath is warm on his cock and he's drooling like the sweet kitty he is.
San runs his thumb along Wooyoung's cheek, across the mole under his eye and the other one near his nose. He gently rubs his ears. Wooyoung could probably cum from this, just from having San's cock in his mouth.
Wooyoung tightens his grip on San's thighs, hollows his cheeks and sucks. “Fuck—Woo—Young-ah,” San whines. Wooyoung swallows him down to the base, purring around his cock. San nearly sobs.
Wooyoung laps and sucks and curls his tongue, ears and tail twitching every time San's cock hits the back of his throat. “Shit—Young-ah—'m close.”
Wooyoung's pink tongue pokes out of his mouth. San's stomach tightens, burns red-hot with arousal. Wooyoung feels perfect around him and he needs to cum so bad it's almost painful.
“Ngh—Young-ah,” San groans. His cock twitches and he waits for Wooyoung to pull off, but he doesn't. Wooyoung licks his lips and swallows him down again.
Wooyoung licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, and San cums with a whine. His eyes roll back, and he bites his bottom lip so hard he tastes copper on his tongue.
Wooyoung keeps his eyes trained on him when he swallows. San stares at him, breathless. “Young-ah,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful.”
Wooyoung smiles. “Thank you, Sannie.” He crawls back into San’s lap, pressing their lips together. When Wooyoung slides his tongue into his mouth, San can taste himself. Wooyoung purrs and settles his hands on San’s chest.
San can’t stop himself from gripping Wooyoung’s waist and thrusting his cock against his clothed hole. He nips at Wooyoung’s skin, and vibrant marks blossom all over his neck and collarbones. Wooyoung's whimpering so sweetly and San wants to stay like this forever.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung says. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Aren't you gonna fuck me?”
San chokes. “That's the plan,” he says dumbly. He kisses Wooyoung again. He slides his tongue deeper into Wooyoung's mouth, feels the ridges of his teeth and the sharpness of his canines.
“Sannie—c'mon.” Wooyoung pulls away for a moment. His long hair is tousled, lips slick with spit and San's cum.
“You just sucked me off, Woo-ya,” San says. He rests his thumbs on Wooyoung's cheekbones. “You can wait five minutes.” Wooyoung's eyes widen, but his cock twitches against San's chest. “Lie down for me.”
With a pretty whimper, Wooyoung rests his head on the pillows and bares his neck. San can only look at him with wide eyes, lips curled into a lovesick smile. Wooyoung's so pretty, and he's all his.
San starts low. He kisses the inside of Wooyoung's ankle, and the other boy lets out a quiet sigh. “San-ah,” Wooyoung whispers. San wraps his big hands around Wooyoung's thighs and presses his lips against his skin.
San's so hard it's painful. His aching cock presses against Wooyoung's leg, leaking pathetically. Wooyoung has to know how much San needs him.
Wooyoung could easily take control. San knows he wants to. But Wooyoung stays still, lets San map his skin with his lips and tongue. San closes his lips around Wooyoung’s left nipple, gently scraping his teeth against his skin.
San's divine place is here, between Wooyoung's perfect legs. Wooyoung's tail stays wrapped around his wrist. His grip is tight and possessive, and San’s exactly where he needs to be.
San pushes Wooyoung's shirt up his chest, and laps at the skin above his navel, leaves a mark on his hipbone. Wooyoung leans into the touch and San doesn't stop him. He watches as Wooyoung's eyes flutter closed, ears twitching with every swipe of San's tongue.
“Sannie—San-ah,” Wooyoung whines. He arches his back, hard cock leaking against his stomach. San almost breaks.
Wooyoung's soft skin is shiny with sweat, glistening with remnants of San's tongue. “You're so pretty like this,” San says softly. San leaves a mark above Wooyoung's v-line, silently branding his touch into his skin.
Wooyoung's tail brushes against the side of his face. “Only like this?” Wooyoung asks. San can tell he's pouting.
San smiles. Even with San's mouth so close to his cock, he's still like this. “I think you're pretty all the time, Woo-ya,” San replies. “But this is my first time seeing you under me.”
Wooyoung trembles at that. San gently bites his inner thigh. Touching Wooyoung is a gold rush and San can't stop. He wonders if Wooyoung could cum just like this, just from San sucking marks into his skin.
Wooyoung gently tugs at San's hair. Wooyoung's all around him, fingers tangled in his hair, sweet scent seared into his lungs. It's intoxicating. San's high off the sight of Wooyoung squirming and whimpering under his touch.
Wooyoung's so tiny. San's hands cover his waist entirely, his biceps dwarf his head, and his silhouette swallows him whole.
San finally pulls away for a moment, admiring his handiwork. Wooyoung's breathing heavily, plump bottom lip caught between his little fangs. He looks good with all the marks San gave him. The next time Wooyoung wears a crop top, people will know he's taken.
“You're so cute, Wooyoungie,” San says. He tastes Wooyoung’s sweat on his tongue and stares straight into the shining sun.
San rises to meet Wooyoung's sugary mouth. Wooyoung slides a hand under his shirt and purrs. “San-ah,” he whispers. San wants to swallow him whole and bury himself under his skin.
“How do you want me, Young-ah?” San asks.
Wooyoung's ears twitch. “Want you in me,” he says. He pouts because the answer was obvious.
San presses his index and middle fingers against the seam of Wooyoung's lips, slipping them into his mouth. “Like this?” He asks.
San reaches down and squeezes Wooyoung's ass, and the other boy whimpers around his fingers. Wooyoung gets a little teary, looking up at San through his pretty eyelashes.
“Sannie—please.” Wooyoung's words come out a little muffled, but San hears him perfectly. San pulls his fingers out, and Wooyoung licks his lips. His pink tongue chases San’s thumb. “C’mon, San-ah,” he whines. “I've been good.”
San nearly whimpers at that. It's hard to have just one soft spot for someone like Wooyoung. His entire heart belongs to him, squishy and pliant like an overripe fruit.
“You have,” San agrees. He kisses the corner of Wooyoung's mouth. “You've been so good, Young-ah.”
San needs to be inside him so badly it hurts. Wooyoung wraps his tail around San’s wrist and pulls him closer. “In the drawer,” he says softly. San’s cock twitches at the thought of Wooyoung fingering himself open on his bed. The blush on Wooyoung’s face tells San he’s done it before.
San knows Wooyoung’s impatient—he is too—but he can’t stop staring. Wooyoung has the prettiest tattoo on his ribcage. San envies the ink, wishes he could be under Wooyoung’s skin, the closest to his heart.
“Woo-ya,” San whispers. He tucks a strand of soft hair behind Wooyoung’s ear. “You’re so pretty.”
Wooyoung’s ears twitch. “You keep saying that, San-ah,” he says softly. “You’re prettier.”
San closes the distance between them. “Impossible.” He pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside, and Wooyoung’s breath hitches. San’s only ever seen Wooyoung as a supernova. He’ll never forget the sight of the smaller boy trembling under him, whining and begging with the sweetest pout on his lips.
San presses two slick fingers against Wooyoung’s hole. Wooyoung shudders, tail tickling the back of San’s neck. “Sannie,” Wooyoung whispers.
San is the one who whines when he slides his first finger inside. Wooyoung’s so warm inside. Wooyoung opens up so easily for him, so pretty and pliant, like he’s been waiting for San all this time.
San’s pictured his fingers inside Wooyoung’s hole for long enough. The real thing’s always better. “Woo-ya,” San whispers. “Are you okay?”
Wooyoung nods. “Keep going, San-ah,” he says. “I can take more.” He cups San’s face and presses their lips together. Wooyoung whines every time San curls his index finger and presses it against his prostate.
“Young-ah,” San whispers. Wooyoung bites San’s bottom lip, taking it between his teeth. His fangs are a little sharp and San tastes copper on his tongue. Wooyoung’s lips make blood sweet.
San’s leaking cock presses against Wooyoung’s toned stomach. He’s achingly hard but he stays patient, opens Wooyoung up with shaking fingers and open-mouthed kisses that leave spit sliding down his chin.
Wooyoung’s laid his head on San’s chest, pressed his sugary lips against his neck and held his hand. San’s two fingers deep, down to his knuckles, and he still feels like they could be closer.
San presses their lips together, wrapping his free hand around Wooyoung’s tail just to hear him whine. Wooyoung’s sensitive everywhere, San realizes. His cock throbs with every sound Wooyoung makes.
“Sannie—San-ah.” Wooyoung pulls San closer and tangles his fingers in his dark hair. San whines into Wooyoung’s mouth, twisting his fingers and pushing them in deeper. Wooyoung’s rolling his hips, riding San’s fingers like they’re his cock.
Wooyoung tightens around his fingers. San groans. “Shit—Young-ah.”
Wooyoung’s hands are in his hair, then they’re on this chest, then they’re thrown around his shoulders. Wooyoung’s touching him like he can’t get enough and it drives San wild.
Wooyoung’s thumbs press against San’s nipples and he whines. “Sannie,” Wooyoung purrs. “Do you like that?”
San’s head spins, caught up in the sticky slide of their cocks and the warmth of Wooyoung around his fingers. Wooyoung’s smirking against his lips, and he barely notices when San pushes another finger inside his hole.
Wooyoung’s tail brushes against San’s chest and he shivers. “Ah—Young-ah.” He imagines Wooyoung sinking his teeth into the meat of his chest and he whimpers. Wooyoung’s perfectly capable of flipping them over and riding San until his legs give out.
“Sannie, c’mon.” Wooyoung presses his lips against his neck. He’s purring, and the vibrations go straight to San’s cock. San bares his neck, lets Wooyoung leave marks all over his golden skin. San needs everyone to know he belongs to Wooyoung.
San fucks his fingers and out of Wooyoung’s hole. He’s impatient. They both are, but San would rather die than hurt him. Wooyoung’s ears are twitching. He won’t be satiated until he’s stuffed full.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung purrs. “‘M close.” It’s a warning, a quiet growl from the back of his throat. “Wanna cum with you inside me.”
San’s cock twitches against his thigh. “Shit.” He slides his fingers out of Wooyoung’s hole and gently squeezes his waist. “You’re perfect, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung smiles softly. “‘M yours.”
San presses the tip of his cock against Wooyoung’s hole. “All mine,” he murmurs. He keeps his hands on Wooyoung’s waist, watching his cock disappear inside him inch by inch.
“Sannie—fuck—oh my god,” Wooyoung whimpers. He grips San’s biceps, eyes rolling back into his head. Wooyoung squeezes tight around his cock and San can feel every press of his insides.
“Shit—Young-ah,” San whines. “You feel so good.” He stops halfway, watching Wooyoung’s face carefully.
Pretty tears collect on Wooyoung’s eyelashes. “Keep going, San-ah,” he says. His nails sink into San’s skin. San nods. He pushes in deeper, feels the tip of his cock press against Wooyoung’s prostate.
“Ngh—Sannie—fuck.” Wooyoung arches his back and his tail swishes wildly. “So big.” San’s cock twitches and he tries not to cum on the spot. Every drag of his cock against Wooyoung’s walls brings him closer and closer to the edge.
Wooyoung looks perfectlike this, lips parted and face flushed. He’s cock-drunk and San can tell, eyes starry and focused on San. Something sugary sweet and boiling hot unfurls in his stomach. Wooyoung’s finally his.
San stays perfectly still. He presses their lips together, gives Wooyoung time to adjust to the fullness inside him. There’s a bulge in Wooyoung’s lower stomach. San wants to press his thumb against it, feel where Wooyoung’s body made room for his cock.
San cradles Wooyoung’s face with one hand. “You’re doing so well, Young-ah,” he says. “So perfect for me.”
Wooyoung nearly sobs. “San—San-ah,” he whines. He grabs San’s hand and rests it on his lower stomach. San’s cock twitches.
“Feels good, baby?” San asks. Wooyoung just nods. Wooyoung rolls his hips, and San’s cock reaches even deeper inside him.
Wooyoung buries his face in San’s neck. He laps at his skin before sinking his teeth in. “Mine,” he tries to whisper, but the word comes out as a growl.
San smiles. He slips his tongue into Wooyoung’s mouth and tastes C4 and Nerds on his lips. “All yours, Young-ah,” he murmurs. “No one loves you more than I do.”
Wooyoung cries harder at that. San gently wipes his tears away with his thumbs. He watches his cock slide in and out of Wooyoung’s hole, achingly slow and sticky. They fit perfectly together.
San’s cock throbs. He’s already close and Wooyoung can probably feel it, the way his cock’s leaking, tip bumping against Wooyoung’s prostate with every thrust. “Young-ah—fuck,” San whimpers. He reaches for Wooyoung’s hand and squeezes it.
Wooyoung lets San take the lead, throwing his arms around his shoulders. San gently guides Wooyoung onto his cock. He pulls Wooyoung flush against him and sweat rolls down his biceps.
“Mm—Sannie.” Wooyoung tightens around San’s cock just to hear him moan. San’s whining and panting into his mouth, eyes rolling back every time he pushes into Wooyoung’s wet heat. “Cum inside.”
San’s eyes widen. “Young-ah—what—”
Wooyoung slots their lips together. “You can do it, right, San-ah?” He asks. He’s such a brat and it makes San impossibly hard.
San knows he’s wrecked. His hair is a mess, lips bitten and red. Wooyoung’s the only one who will ever see him like this.
“Youngie,” San whimpers. His hips stutter. He’ll cum once he knows he’s allowed to. “‘M so close.”
Wooyoung lets out the prettiest little mewls every time San thrusts in. His cock is leaking, trapped between their chests, and San can tell he’s close. He gets off on making Wooyoung feel good.
Wooyoung doesn’t even reach for his cock. His tail swishes wildly until it wraps around San’s wrist. San rolls his hips, letting Wooyoung use his cock to chase his orgasm.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung whimpers. His eyes are fixed on San’s lips and the curve of his eyes. “Inside me—pleasepleaseplease.”
Wooyoung slots their lips together and it’s filthy. Spit slides down Wooyoung’s chin and San licks it away. San fucks into him a little faster, big cock pressing against Wooyoung’s prostate.
Wooyoung’s whimpers mix with his pants and whines, and it makes San dizzy. Wooyoung’s begging him to cum inside, stuff him full. San would be wrong to deny him.
San cums with a groan, cock twitching as he stills his hips and paints Wooyoung’s insides white. Wooyoung cums all over his stomach. He’s purring like San didn’t rearrange his insides.
“You’re so pretty when you cum,” San murmurs. Wooyoung flushes, burying his face in his neck. San lets out a whine when Wooyoung rolls his hips. His cock twitches from overstimulation. Wooyoung gives him an apologetic kiss on the forehead.
Wooyoung presses their lips together. He keeps his hand on his lower stomach, where they’re connected, and he smiles. “I love you,” San whispers.
Wooyoung’s exhausted, San can tell, but he kisses him a little harder. He cups San’s face and uses his cheek to wipe his crystal tears. “Love you more, Sannie.”
San smiles. “D’you feel okay, baby?” He asks. Wooyoung nods. He slowly pulls out, watching Wooyoung’s tail twitch. “Young-ah,” San murmurs. He sees his cum running down Wooyoung’s thighs, and he swallows thickly. “Let me clean you up.”
Wooyoung frowns. He pulls San closer. “Later,” he says. “Jus’ stay with me.” The way he says the last word makes San want to cry. His whole body is sticky with sweat but San’s heart is achingly warm.
San pulls a blanket over their bodies and presses his lips against Wooyoung’s forehead. He intertwines their fingers under the covers. He’s a bird in the sky, basking in Wooyoung’s golden warmth.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung says softly. San cards his fingers through his long hair, gently rubbing his ears. The fading sunlight covers him in the prettiest glow. “You’re mine.”
San smiles. He nods. He’s been Wooyoung’s since they first met, and he doesn’t plan on letting him go. “All yours,” he says. Wooyoung’s tail is still wrapped around his waist, possessive.
San stares at Wooyoung softly. “So pretty,” he murmurs. Wooyoung purrs a little louder. “So cute.”
Wooyoung’s nose brushes against his cheek. “Sannie?” He asks quietly.
San’s heart glows bright red in his chest. “Mm?”
Wooyoung hugs him tightly. “I wanna ride you next time.”
Next time.
San swallows thickly. He kisses Wooyoung’s forehead, his nose, the corner of his mouth, anything he can reach. “Anything you want, Young-ah,” he says softly. Forever.
Wooyoung tucks himself until his chin. Before he closes his eyes, he looks up at San like he’s the rest of his life. “I love you,” he whispers. His long hair tickles San’s skin and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
San smiles so widely his face hurts. He feels his heartbeat in his ivory teeth. “I love you, Young-ah.”
🍋
San wakes up to the sound of Wooyoung purring in his ear. His tail is still wrapped tightly around San's waist, and his scent is so thick San can taste it.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung whispers. He hugs San tighter. His beauty still makes his heart ache. “Are you awake?”
San looks down. Wooyoung's still tucked under his chin, achingly small in his arms. Sunlight streams in through the window and paints their skin golden.
“'M awake, Young-ah,” he murmurs. “Did you sleep well?”
Wooyoung nods. He pulls back until his nose brushes against San's. “You're warm.” He kisses San's cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
Wooyoung probably feels gross and sticky, with the dried sweat and cum on his on skin. He’s the prettiest boy San’s ever seen. “Pretty,” San whispers. He closes the distance between them, threading his fingers through Wooyoung's soft hair.
Wooyoung sighs into his mouth. “Sannie,” he says softly. A glass string of spit connects their lips. Wooyoung kisses him again. “San-ah, 'm not letting you go.”
“You don't have to,” San says. Wooyoung stares at him with hearts shooting out of his eyes. “You're not getting rid of me, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung buries his face in San's neck. He laps at his skin and purrs at the taste. “'M not gonna get rid of you when we already share the lease,” he says. San gently squeezes his ass and Wooyoung whimpers.
“We're all sticky,” Wooyoung says. He frowns, ears flat against his head. San presses his lips against his hair.
“You didn't wanna shower,” San says. He gently rubs Wooyoung's back. He could stay like this forever, lazily kissing Wooyoung under the morning sun. “You were gonna fall asleep with me inside you.”
Wooyoung cock throbs and San feels it. “I know what we're doing tonight.” Wooyoung pecks him on the cheek, smiling like he isn’t giving San a hard-on.
San flushes. Wooyoung's tail wraps around his waist. “You're gonna kill me, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung pouts. He strokes the side of San's face. “I'd never kill my boyfriend,” he says. Boyfriend. The word registers in San's mind and he's never felt so full.
Wooyoung traces the slope of San's nose, the curve of his lips. He presses his lips against San’s like he’s trying to breathe him in. San's never felt so pretty.
San gently brushes Wooyoung's hair out of his eyes. “Your hair's so pretty,” he says. He lets the strands fall between his fingers. Wooyoung slowly untangles their limbs with a sigh.
“It'll be prettier once I wash it,” Wooyoung says. He rolls out of bed and stretches his back in a way only a cat would. When the sunlight lands on him, San sees the golden expanse of his skin.
Wooyoung disappears into the bathroom, and San briefly considers following him, splashing his face with water just to confirm he's not still dreaming.
Wooyoung peeks his head out from the doorway. His left ear twitches, and he smiles. “Coming, San-ah?”
San nearly twists his ankle sprinting to the bathroom.