Chapter Text
San lounged on their bed with a book in his lap, doing a pretty good job at keeping his eyes on its pages rather than on the contraption set up on the other side of the room. The whirring of the machine provided a pleasant white noise in the background, and the squelch of the dildo as it was mechanically rammed into Wooyoung’s sloppy ass was steady enough to almost pass for an uptempo EDM beat. But Wooyoung’s cries had started growing louder again, and San’s ability to concentrate on his book waned.
Of course, if San had really wanted to focus on The Design of Everyday Things , he would have gagged Wooyoung.
San gave in to temptation and flickered his gaze toward Wooyoung. He was lying on his stomach on the padded bench, thick straps around his chest and waist keeping him still. His shins and ankles were bound to lower platforms, as were his arms and wrists. The machine itself was behind him, working a sizable dildo in and out of his ass at a pace that had no care for how overstimulated he was. His cock hung between his legs, struggling to get hard. There was a puddle of cum on the floor under it.
Wooyoung wasn’t looking at him, face hidden by the u-shaped headrest. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat, trembling, jostled with each thrust of the machine as much as his restraints allowed.
San palmed his own erection through his sweatpants and watched as Wooyoung’s body grew taught when he came. His cock twitched pathetically with barely any cum left to add to the puddle on the floor. But Wooyoung’s wail, tired and interrupted by sobs, was what broke San’s self-control.
He dropped his book and got on his feet. Wooyoung didn’t react, couldn’t probably hear San’s approaching steps over the continued assault of the fucking machine. San crouched down in front of him.
“Oh baby,” San crooned and stroked his fingers through Wooyoung’s sweaty bangs. Wooyoung leaned into his touch, so San scratched his scalp once before grabbing a hold and tugging his head back to get a better look at him. “You’re a mess.”
Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered open, but his gaze was vacant. His cheeks were flushed, his lashes wet with tears. His mouth hung open, drool dribbling down his chin. San felt a rush of pride and arousal. He had done that.
“Do you even know how long it’s been?” San asked, unsurprised when all he received in reply was a gargled whine. “I’ve almost read my whole book. Even though you’ve been trying so hard to distract me.”
San pushed two fingers inside Wooyoung’s slack mouth. He massaged Wooyoung’s tongue, enthralled by how pliable Wooyoung was for him. When he pushed his fingers into Wooyoung’s throat, Wooyoung didn’t even gag.
“Where’s my mouthy brat now, hm? Reduced to a set of holes.”
Their friends were all out at a club, drinking and dancing to shake off the stress of the past few weeks and celebrating the start of the holidays. Wooyoung and San had found that this worked better for them. The minute their exams had been over, Wooyoung had started pushing all of San’s buttons, begging to be punished.
And San loved few things better than reducing his boyfriend to a mindless wreck.
“Let’s put this hole,” San said and tapped Wooyoung’s tongue before pulling out his spit-slicked fingers, “to use as well.”
He stood and tugged his sweats down, other hand still gripping Wooyoung’s hair to hold his head up. He had to bend his knees a little to get the angle right, but San couldn’t have cared less when he slid his throbbing cock inside Wooyoung’s warm mouth.
Wooyoung remained lax, tongue lolling out of his mouth as San dragged his cock back and forth. His eyes were half-lidded, breathing heavy, and the noises pushed out of him constant. When San had strapped him to the bench, he had been vocal, demanding for San to fuck him, insulting him when San refused.
But he hadn’t struggled. When San stretched him out, Wooyoung had complained, egging him on, and even when the dildo started fucking him and San retreated to their bed, Wooyoung had kept running his mouth. After the first orgasm, his words had become fewer, replaced my moans and whines. After the second, he had started slurring. He had still had enough energy left to scream when he’d come the third time, but the fourth had pushed him into incoherency.
“Why do you insist on talking back to me,” San panted, “when this is what you should be using your mouth for?”
He was close, but Wooyoung was too out of it to tease him for it, and San was too turned on to care. He snapped his hips in pace with the fucking machine, the wet sounds of Wooyoung’s throat complemented by the squelch of his ass.
“Such a perfect cocksleeve,” San stumbled over his words as he started coming. He pulled his cock out of Wooyoung’s throat and wrapped his hand around its base to press the tip against Wooyoung’s bottom lip, aiming right into his mouth. He kept his eyes glued on Wooyoung’s mouth and moaned as it was filled with cum. He wrung out the last drops and let go, grabbing instead a hold of Wooyoung’s chin.
“Swallow for me, cocksleeve,” San said with a smile and crouched down. It took several seconds, but Wooyoung managed to close his mouth. His throat bobbed, but when his jaw dropped, there was still white coating his tongue. San’s spent cock twitched. “Did I break my favorite toy?”
San waited, but there was no safeword, no fingers raised to signal that Wooyoung had had enough. His chest filled with warmth and pride, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing Wooyoung. Wooyoung didn’t reciprocate, lips pursed only because of San’s fingers digging into his cheeks, but he whined quietly, making San smile.
“You’ll come once more for me,” San said. Wooyoung’s head slumped against the headrest when San let go. San stood and stroked his hair one last time. “So that maybe next time you’ll think twice before throwing a tantrum.”