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Wooyoung had had plenty of sexual partners. Plenty of partners that didn’t reciprocate, took what they wanted or whatever Wooyoung would give them and then ditched, fell asleep, said ‘I’m too tired.’ He’d also been with plenty of men that ignored his safeword. Plenty of people that kept going even when he begged them to stop . After a while, after a few too many bad times, he started feeling embarrassed. Stupid .
Why would he need to stop if they were clearly having such a good time? They enjoyed using him, it’d be rude to intervene . Just because he was a little uncomfortable? Felt bad? Wrong, scared? Just wanted a break?
He should just suck it up, is what he thought.
So when he was dating San , he felt the same, his way of thinking hadn’t changed. If something happened he’d just suck it up like he always had. It made him anxious, in the bedroom, but he didn’t show that. It made him more apt to give and not even think about gaining something in return- He wasn’t owed that, and he didn’t think he was. But - San was gentle, for the most part. Never did something Wooyoung didn’t like, and he did enjoy that about him.
The way his hands were calloused but his demeanor very much was not.
San was soft with him, in the way he’d trace his fingers over Wooyoung’s tummy and hum nonsense in his ear, some song Wooyoung was fairly certain didn’t exist, but it sounded like it could have.
San gave to him. He’d make him feel good just because and didn’t even get hard, didn’t give Wooyoung a reason to feel like he needed to do something. Return the favor . And sometimes, even when he wanted to, told him he did, San would tell him;
“Just kiss me, then, that’s all I want.”
And so he would, though he felt it didn’t make much sense. Why San would just take a peck on the cheek as a reward after bringing Wooyoung to some mind blowing orgasm with just his mouth and hands.
“It’s not a game, I don’t need some prize. Just making you feel good is enough, I promise.”
That’s not to say Wooyoung never reciprocated- He did, most of the time. It was just the sometimes he’d take and not give. A weird role reversal from everything he’d ever known. It felt wrong, the first few times. He’d go to sleep curled up at San’s back, panicked because he’d rolled away from him and what if he’s mad .
He’s sleeping, Wooyoung. He’s not mad.
He knew that. He still worried, though. That whatever he was doing, it wasn’t enough. So, when San did decide to take, Wooyoung gave. Sometimes to his own mental detriment, but he felt accomplished, afterward. Like he’d finally paid back the invisible, silent debt he owed, by taking something he didn’t want. By giving when he had nothing left in him.
By hiding his tears in the bed sheets, always quiet, always covered, always in the dark because San knew he didn’t like fucking with the lights on, very much. Wooyoung hadn’t told him that, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he’d parsed that out, but he was grateful. Grateful that San would still make love to him in the blue dark of their bedroom, even when he couldn’t see him, not unless he was bumping noses with him, which was almost every time.
There was once. The one time Wooyoung hadn’t hid it, well enough.
It had also been the last time he had to hide it- But, the story goes as such;
Whatever San was doing, it fucking hurt . His arm was twisted all weird, his wrists tied together because they’d experimented with that kind of thing before and San really seemed to like it. Wooyoung liked that he liked it.
His wrists did burn, ached a little too much, but San had a tight grip on the tie holding them together so he felt secure, he supposed. He was gasping teary breaths against the cotton, trying to keep his noises level so San wouldn’t pick up on it. It really didn’t hurt that bad . He probably shouldn’t be crying over it. San readjusted, let his hands go and Wooyoung let out a shuddered sigh, biting his cheek when he picked his pace up to chase his orgasm and Wooyoung thought finally . He’d be done, soon. He thought about the cuddle they’d have after, his stomach twisted in knots because that was all he wanted, at the moment. His ankles were locked together too, but that part didn’t hurt as much, just kind of made him feel trapped, and then San leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of his ear.
“Tell me how it feels, baby.” San loved talking like that. Wooyoung loved it too, usually. But at that moment, that time, it made his whole body tense because he had to think of a lie. And when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Just a body shaking sob that scared even Wooyoung, because he’d let that slip by accident and all of San’s movements stopped cold. “...Youngah? You’re okay, right?” San asked with the softest tone he’d ever heard and Wooyoung nodded, but it was very obvious San wasn’t buying it.
“I’m okay-” Wooyoung finally managed a weak response, but San had already pulled out and moved to his end table, tugging a pair of scissors out Wooyoung hadn't even known were in there. He snipped his binds and Wooyoung sighed when his arms finally relaxed, slumped to the bed, muscles shaking from the strain. Next came his ankles, fabric audibly splitting around metal, and San carefully pulled it away, smoothing his rough hands over his ankles.
“Lay right there.” Then San let him go, pulled back all the way and he felt freezing. He pushed Wooyoung gently down to lay on his side, rather than the ass-up position he’d been locked in for a little too long to be comfortable. “I’ll be right back-” Wooyoung relaxed for all of two seconds before he started to panic. San had left the room and Wooyoung sat up, watching the door with bleary eyes before he realized he should try to dry them.
He’d be right back, he said. San usually meant what he said, so he’d really be right back.
A minute of real time and what felt like ages of Wooyoung time had passed before he started crying again, picking at his fingers, his breathing uneven because what if he didn’t come back? What if it was one of those be right back ’s that lasted forever? Of course he’d leave. Why wouldn’t he? Wooyoung had wrecked his fun, he was probably so pissed -
“Close your eyes, honey.”
Warm, damp, soft. Wooyoung let out another series of sobs while San ran a warm cloth over his face, his eyes, his forehead, cheeks, nose. He knelt in front of him on the bed, fully dressed and covered and Wooyoung felt a little too exposed when he finally opened his eyes again. He didn’t meet his eye, couldn’t , not until San ducked into his vision and forced him to.
“Did I hurt you?” San kept his voice as soft as it had been before, cupping Wooyoung’s cheek with the cloth, watching him relax a little.
“I was fine…” Wooyoung muttered, mouth sticky, words thick with saliva because he’d really been sobbing. Probably a lot of pent up emotion all gushing out at once, that’s why it was so bad. Probably.
“...did it feel good?” San whispered, and Wooyoung hesitated, then nodded. “Please tell me the truth.” He tried, and Wooyoung sniffled, pushing his face into the cloth so he could hide the pain in his face. He felt so horrible that he’d stopped his fun. San being upset with him was the only thing he was worried about.
“I liked it.” Wooyoung insisted, breath hitching and he relaxed further when he felt San’s arms wrap him up, pulling him onto his lap carefully.
“No you didn’t.”
Wooyoung wanted to be angry, that San was making all these decisions for him. But really, he couldn’t even be a little agitated. San didn’t seem upset with him, didn’t seem angry. He was touching him with as much gentleness, as delicate a touch as he always had, with Wooyoung.
“...we can keep-”
“ No .”
San handed Wooyoung the towel so he’d pick at that rather than his fingers, noting how red and raw some parts of his cuticles were. He watched him for a little while, watched him rub the towel over his cheek mindlessly, his hiccups turning to sniffles, his body steadily melting against San’s torso the longer he let him stay there.
And San would let him stay there all night, all week, all year, if he wanted.
He didn’t know everything, about Wooyoung’s past. He knew a lot of his ex’s and he knew they were shitty people, he knew he didn’t like to talk about them much and San was fine with that. He knew Wooyoung had a warped mindset when it came to sex and what he owed . Which, was nothing, and San would always insist that, in his own quiet way. He knew Wooyoung felt guilty, a lot of the time, afterward. He tried his best to drown that out with aftercare, with humming to keep his brain busy and soft touches to reassure him that he was there . He was happy to be there, wanted to be there.
San wanted to be there for him so badly. He just didn’t want Wooyoung to feel like he was pitied. Didn’t want his sweet, beautiful, caring, hilarious boyfriend to feel like he was less than.
“...c’n I have a sweater, or-”
San forgot all about Wooyoung still being nude , shame on him. He tore his hoodie up over his head and ignored Wooyoung’s protests of don’t give me yours, you’ll get cold . He helped him push it over his head, hair knotted and tangled from the roughness of before but San smoothed it down carefully. Wooyoung really had mostly melted into him, eyes half lidded, puffy and red from the mess he’d been, earlier.
“Are you sleepy, honey bee?” San smiled so softly at him and Wooyoung wrinkled his nose at the pet name, cracking a microscopic smile but it was there, in the way his eyes softened. And he nodded, and San smiled, reaching to the foot of the bed to grab the ice pack he’d collected. “Here. Your head probably hurts, huh?” San nudged him and Wooyoung let his head roll back, eyes closed while San pushed the ice pack over his face, waiting a moment before peeling it back.
“I’m so sorry, San.” Wooyoung whispered, and San shook his head, brows furrowing because the last thing he wanted was for Wooyoung to be sorry. But Wooyoung had opened a door for him to inch through, to ask questions and find out what really happened.
“Sorry for what?”
“...sorry for ruining that, and scaring you.” Wooyoung nodded, and San sighed, turning to lay him down, letting Wooyoung crawl onto his side of the bed. San invaded his space, putting the ice back over his forehead, hearing Wooyoung let out a pleased, almost silent sigh.
“You didn’t ruin anything, didn’t scare me. Worried, yes.” San smiled, letting Wooyoung take over holding the ice pack so San could push his arm under his head. “I was worried I hurt you, but…” San trailed off, watching Wooyoung settle into his side. “...I wasn’t the one that hurt you, was I?”
“No. You’ve been doing a lot of fixing, though.” Wooyoung nodded, and San relaxed at that, turning, pushing a lingering kiss to Wooyoung’s head.
“That so?” San smiled, feeling Wooyoung reach up to ruffle his hair. He let out a tiny little mm-hm before San decided the conversation could end there, for the night. Wooyoung didn’t seem like he wanted to speak a whole lot, and San knew he could use the sleep over dumping information on San he may not be ready to share.
So instead of pry, he did what he was best at, comforting . Comforting Wooyoung was as easy and as natural as breathing, for him. He hummed to him, quiet, tracing love hearts on his shoulderblade, waiting until he heard his breathing relax before he quieted.
Kiss to Wooyoung’s hair, he settled, deciding he really would stay here, for eternity. For as long as his lover needed, even if he refused to ask for it.