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Wooyoung corners San in his room the night after their Spotify recording.
It’s been a long day – they’ve had an additional dance practice follow up the filming and a delayed dinner, and Wooyoung can feel the exhaustion settle deep in his bones. More prominent than any sign of fatigue, however, rests the memory of San after the first penalty today; glittery pink clip-ons dangling from his ears, necklace adorning his neck, matching tiara in his hair and the softest pleased smile on his lips, hidden beneath pouty lips and loud complaints.
San had been pretty, oh so pretty, with his broad shoulders and tiny waist on display under his light sweater, complimenting the array of tacky princess accessories in just the right way. And San had felt pretty, too – Wooyoung could tell from the shy giggles and muted smiles that San had tried masking by lamenting the princess punishment as opposed to the fairy wings Wooyoung’s teammates were penalized with later in the shooting.
San is good at pretending, but Wooyoung’s seen the blush sitting in the apples of his cheeks. He had watched San grow increasingly pouty as Jongho had stolen his answer, how San had thrown so much effort into the song guessing game only to come up short and Wooyoung, on the winning team, had been more invested in San’s beauty than the game at hand.
The punishment may have been for shits and giggles, but San had been so pretty and cute and pleased at the knowledge that Wooyoung’s mind could not and cannot simply let it go. Not after a long day of work; not after a hard, lengthy practice to combine their comeback with year-end stages. Not after he’s stayed behind to ask the Spotify staff for a set of princess jewelry to take along. It had been surprisingly easy to get their okay without any leery questions thrown his way – Wooyoung suspects they picked up cheap sets of dollar-store tiaras for this filming, but to Wooyoung it made no difference. He had bagged the items all the same.
With their packed day drawing to an end, Jongho had called dibs on the first shower and even Hongjoong had skipped his usual stopover at the studio on the way to the dorm they both share with Wooyoung. Tonight, Wooyoung had been the one to run off elsewhere, making a beeline for the apartment that San shares with Seonghwa and Mingi without first awaiting his turn in the bathroom. He had bumped into Seonghwa on his way into the apartment, freshly showered and letting him know that San was next to wash up and would be a while without Wooyoung needing to ask; Seonghwa knows exactly where he’s headed.
It’s how Wooyoung finds himself waiting spread eagle on San’s bed, trying and failing to keep his impatience in the dullness of San’s absence at bay. With the intent of his visit to San’s room at the forefront of his mind, even scrolling through sns fails to capture his attention into one of his frequent social media spirals. His sharpened senses are on the lookout for San, so Wooyoung ultimately hears him before he sees him; the door at the end of the hallway closing, the gentle pitter-patter of his naked feet against the wooden floors as they move closer. Wooyoung is sitting up straight in San’s bed, phone tangled up somewhere in the sheets, by the time the door opens and San steps inside in nothing but a pair of track pants, naked chest illuminated by the dim light shining from his bedside table.
“Oh, hey.”
San doesn’t look surprised to see him. Then again, why would he? Having Wooyoung in close vicinity unannounced is a frequent occurrence.
San lowers the towel that he had been using to dry the tips of his wet hair and tosses it towards his desk chair, directing a blindingly cheerful smile at Wooyoung. “What’s up?”
Wooyoung’s mouth goes dry at the sight of San in all his half-naked glory. The contrast of wide shoulders and tiny waist is as striking as ever without any piece of fabric obscuring the view. Wooyoung looks at San, takes his time raking his eyes down his chest and stomach, and despite the toned build he can’t help but appreciate how cute San looks. Cute abs, cute navel, the cutest smile.
No matter how sexy, San still looks so pretty.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung motions for San to come over as he scoots forward, sitting on the edge of the bed, “baby, come here.”
San walks forward until he’s standing right in front of Wooyoung. His hands reach out for Wooyoung to take and nudge him closer, pull him forward until San loses balance and drops between his legs. Wooyoung takes advantage of the moment of unsteadiness by cradling San’s face in both his hands, leaning down enough so he can draw his gaze across San’s lips, over the healthy flush of red in his cheeks that he knows stems from one of the steaming hot showers San loves to take, to look him in the eyes. “You’re so pretty today.”
“Yeah?” San responds, voice airy under Wooyoung’s heavy gaze and the way he, for once, looms over San. “Why do you think so?”
Wooyoung knows that San knows. He may be good at playing pretend in front of others, riling up Wooyoung with innocent eyes and feigned nonchalance, but there’s no way he doesn’t know where this is headed – why Wooyoung has him on his knees, between his legs, face held tenderly. It could be condescending if it wasn’t so gentle, the way he looks down at San.
Wooyoung reaches behind him, clasping the souvenirs he brought along from filming, all while holding San by the chin. He pulls out the tiara, tosses it between his legs for San to see, dangles the clip-on earrings and necklace from his hand. This is what he came here for.
“You may be part of the Tallz, but really you’re just my pretty little princess, aren’t you?”
Wooyoung watches San closely, the rise and fall of his chest, so the little hitch in his breath doesn’t go by unnoticed. Wooyoung leans down again and smoothes his hand along San’s cheek while struggling to fasten the clip-ons with one hand only. It would be a job easier done with both hands, but that would mean having to let go of San, break the contact, and in Wooyoung’s books any second spent not appreciating San’s physical form is time wasted. He slips the chain over San’s head with ease and moves on to the tiara, adjusts it in San’s dark strands, bits of moisture painting lovely opalescence in the artificial light.
Wooyoung takes a long moment to look at San like this – pretty, pink, shimmery. San is all sharp edges and hard lines, with strong eyebrows and a jaw designed to cut, but the jewelry accentuates the softness in his features: his sweet dimples, his cat-like smile, the amiability in the way he scrunches up his nose. The healthy flush in his cheeks adds to a sight Wooyoung is familiar with in the most intimate way. It’s a sight he can never get enough of.
He takes San’s face between his hands, crooks his back in a way that he will surely come to regret later, and kisses him.
San’s lips are eager in response as he leans up to meet Wooyoung in the middle. With his focus drawn to Wooyoung’s mouth, his hands settle on Wooyoung’s knees and he leans forward on the tips of his toes. He opens his mouth, quick to muffle a stuttering breath against Wooyoung’s, and uses his tongue to steal Wooyoung’s own breath away. It feels magical – in the way magic is capable of conjuring up something new, something unheard of, a feeling only palpable in this single moment that he kisses San.
Then San’s hands move up his thighs and break the spell, ripping a groan from Wooyoung’s mouth.
“Wooyoung,” San looks at him when they pull apart. The blush in his cheeks has deepened, from a faint rose to a dark crimson, and Wooyoung revels in the way San enjoys this – the attention, the praise, feeling fair and pretty. In Wooyoung’s eyes, it’s not the jewelry that prompts San’s charm, no matter how costly or inexpensive; what truly amounts to San’s ravishing beauty is the boost in charisma and confidence whenever San feels particularly attractive. It’s a lovely sight to behold.
Wooyoung is snapped out of his thoughts when San instantaneously reaches for his belt, fingers doing quick work before getting to the button and zipper. “Wanna suck you off,” San says, like he needs to declare the hungry way he eyes Wooyoung’s bulge where it’s trapped behind his underwear and pants. “Want you to fuck my mouth a little, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung groans. He’s been turned on for half a day, wound up by the idea of catching San alone at night, of savoring the sight of San for himself. He suspected San was on the same page, but the certainty and clarity in San’s grant scheme renders him stranded. Wooyoung is just one (1) weak man with a massive soft spot for his boyfriend, so he grunts, “yeah” in response to San’s offer. San truly puts his eloquence to a test.
Wooyoung’s head drops forward when San tugs him free. He is still in his black fit from the day, dark shirt and slim dress pants of the same color, and San doesn’t bother pushing either of them out of the way any more than necessary to get to his target. He is careful to fold the waistband of Wooyoung’s briefs over his zipper to ensure he won’t get caught, and wraps his hand around Wooyoung’s cock. Wooyoung is still holding onto San, more to ground himself now that San begins moving his hand, jerking his stiff cock. There’s a roughness to the glide, the beads of precum San uses to pump his hand harder only doing so much in the absence of lube.
San has an eyebrow arched at him, lips tugged up into a half-amused smile on one side. “You’re uncharacteristically hard already.” San flicks his wrist and bends forward to press a couple of kisses across Wooyoung’s shaft. It’s a gesture equally tender and sinful. It makes scorching heat burst in his abdomen, pumping blood into his already full cock.
“What’s got you so worked up, Young-ah?” Wooyoung thinks he’s about to go mad when San wraps his lips around his head and tongues at his slit. “Thought about me a lot?”
“Only the entire day,” he admits, feeling up San’s thick biceps of the arm that’s holding onto Wooyoung’s last thread of sanity and could likely end it with a single flick of the wrist. “You were so– so pretty. How could I not look?”
San seems pleased with his answer because his eyes light up at the praise. When he parts his lips to say something, Wooyoung thinks, he leans down and almost swallows Wooyoung whole instead. He takes as much of him as he can, hollows his cheeks and starts bobbing his head without giving himself any time to pause. San sets up a slow rhythm on his path to wrecking Wooyoung, making good use of his tongue in a way he knows drives Wooyoung towards the edge of insanity, and almost chokes.
Wooyoung finds himself reaching for San again. He holds himself up with one hand curled tightly into the sheets behind him, and slips the other into San’s hair, mindful of the tiara.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he says as San picks up the pace, taking almost more than he can handle, gasping for breath. Wooyoung tightens his hold experimentally, moves his hips to meet San’s eager mouth, in hopes of satisfying the want to please he can see in San’s eyes. Wooyoung loves this – San’s hot breath, his heavy tongue on him, the way he chases for more past his physical boundaries – and moves along slowly, while heat bubbles in his veins and collects in his groin, so close to tipping him over in so little time, burning him to the core.
He moves his hand and almost pushes the tiara out of San’s hair, pressing one of the plastic clip-ons between thumb and forefinger as he tries to catch San’s eyes. But San is a man with a mission. His forehead is crinkled in concentration at the hard work he puts into pleasing; it takes a hot second until he lifts his gaze to meet Wooyoung’s. Wooyoung almost lets out a choked sob at the sight of San’s dazed eyes and swollen lips that — thankfully and less embarrassingly — comes out a warning. “Sannie, baby, I’m about to— you gotta stop.”
San only seems to take his words as an incentive to give his head a couple of prolonged kisses, smearing precum across his slit. The fire in the pit of his stomach burns hotter and Wooyoung is almost certain San is still on his mission of driving him over the edge into the fast-building orgasm he can feel approaching, when he pulls away with a final lick of his shaft.
Wooyoung barely catches himself from falling backwards on the bed when San’s mouth is gone and he is left alone with the rush of cool air in place of San’s hot mouth. He takes a moment to catch his breath, let the smug look on San’s face sink in, and then hooks his fingers around San’s wrists to jostle him into Wooyoung’s lap. San steadies himself with thighs on both of Wooyoung’s sides, his broader frame towering over Wooyoung. In this position Wooyoung needs to tip his head back to look at San. It makes Wooyoung’s skin crawl in all the right places.
They gaze at each other for a moment, hot eyes searching each other’s faces for the beauty they hold, then Wooyoung releases San’s hands, fingers dancing down over San’s belly, only to reach around him and promptly settle both hands over the swell of San’s ass.
“Come here,” he says with a firm squeeze, voice aspirated.
San leans down to slot their lips together. His hand roams up Wooyoung’s chest, impatiently tugging at the dark fabric obscuring the view, as their lips part into a kiss full of clashing tongues and shared air. Wooyoung is rock hard where San left him craving for more, feeling hot between his legs, and when San presses closer, he can feel San’s own cock poke against his ribcage. For as much power as San holds over him, the sentiment is mutual. San enjoys driving Wooyoung up the wall and Wooyoung likes to tug San’s chain – today in a more literal sense than usual, as his fingers curl into the silver plastic accessory and pull San in for another fiery kiss, wet and messy and everything Wooyoung wants when he’s got San in his lap like this.
The grip he has kept around San tightens, pulling him apart until Wooyoung has his hands full with San’s pert ass.
San’s mouth latches onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder right as Wooyoung slips one hand into his track pants, fumbling for San’s underwear. With the focus of San’s oral fixation shifting down from Wooyoung’s mouth, Wooyoung acquires newfound time to direct from kissing towards other parts of San. While San is busy leaving a trail of hot kisses along his shoulder, Wooyoung’s second hand follows the first into San’s pants, bypassing his briefs on the way. He slips his fingertips between San’s legs from behind and presses down.
San’s response is immediate. He arches forward so suddenly that Wooyoung loses balance and topples backwards with San following right on top of him, a high-pitched whine lost between the rustling of sheets. Wooyoung pulls one hand out of San’s pants and lifts it to the side of San’s face, cradling it with the utmost care before dragging his thumb down his cheekbone and towards San’s parted lips, pink and gorgeous, spilling the first sweet sound of pleasure. Wooyoung’s thumb dips past San’s lips, into the wet inside of his mouth, and San gazes down at him with evident desire.
San lowers himself down until he lies flat against Wooyoung, thighs caging him in. San’s lips are eager and hungry as he closes the last bit of distance between them and swipes his tongue across Wooyoung’s teeth, nibbles on his plumper upper lip. He moves one hand to steady Wooyoung’s face, fingers hooked around his nape and thumb tipping up his chin. His other hand slides down Wooyoung’s side, wiggles between the sheets and settles on his hip. San uses the leverage he has on Wooyoung’s ass to yank him forward with unrestricted strength. Their hips grind together messily, San’s plumped cock brushing up against his leg, the soft fabric of the track pants a last layer of sanity between them, and Wooyoung goes dizzy from the pace at which San works.
They are both panting into each other’s mouths more than they’re managing a proper kiss by the time Wooyoung reaches around San’s middle and flips them over. With San beneath him, Wooyoung feels like he can almost think clearly. Almost, because the stifling heat keeps his mind foggy. Almost, because looking at San splayed out before him, needy and impatient for all Wooyoung is willing to give him, does nothing to straighten his mind.
Wooyoung wastes no time reaching for San’s nightstand across the bed, nearly ripping open the second drawer as he grabs the bottle of lube and tosses it next to San. He pulls his shirt off in one swift motion before he is back on San, pushing his fingers under San’s waistband so he can yank his pants and underwear down. His hands travel down the inside of San’s thighs until they drop open to accommodate him. Wooyoung settles down between San’s legs and makes to uncap the bottle of lube, but his attention is unwavering on the man in front of him.
San’s chest heaves from the kisses that have left them both breathless, cock hot and hard and curving up against his belly. The moisture in his hair adds to a messy look that could pass as deliberate and Wooyoung is pretty certain that San has him under some kind of magical spell with how ethereal he looks against the dark sheets as he finally wiggles out of his own confining pants.
“Pretty baby,” Wooyoung mumbles, pouring lube on the open palm of his right hand and spreading it down his fingers. He places the other hand next to San’s head on the bed, holding up his weight as he leans down to press his lips against San’s. It’s an entire change of pace, none of the rushed lust from before, the way their mouths move together in a gentle kiss. “My pretty baby.”
As a way of response, San licks into his mouth. It muffles the quick rush of words that follow; Wooyoung barely catches something along the lines of ‘look who’s talking,’ before he maneuvers his kisses from the center of San’s lips, tracing them down the side of his face. He knows San means it, but tonight it isn’t Wooyoung on the receiving end of constant praise and spoiling. He wants tonight to be about San and his shy confidence that makes Wooyoung’s heart burst with happiness.
The lube has warmed a little as Wooyoung pushes a first finger into San, slow and careful, while continuing his ongoing quest of peppering San’s faces with endless kisses.
He needs to be careful these days – even with winter around, their stylists keep settling on more revealing stage outfits for both Wooyoung and San, and any hickey could slip between low collars, open shirts or cropped tops. So he keeps his lips slow and mellow as they brush across San’s skin and his mouth finds one of the pink earrings still clinging to San’s skin. He tugs it between his teeth, careful not to pull it from the ear, right when his finger finds the soft spot inside San that makes his toes curl and his body arch from pleasure. San’s hand is in his hair, curling into Wooyoung’s locks in the same way his other hand clutches at the bed sheets by his head, as his voice rises in pitch. “That’s so– so good, please, give me a second–”
Wooyoung slips a second finger in and San keens, heels digging into the mattress to push his legs wide open. Working San open with practiced precision may be one of Wooyoung’s favorite activities of all time. No matter how often they switch it up between them, San is always so responsive to Wooyoung’s touches. With San, it’s easy to crook his fingers into just the right position and make him fall apart between the intimacy of their bodies.
It doesn’t take long from there until San is ready for a third, eager in his demands and the increasing frequency and range of his gasps. Wooyoung’s fingers curl into San’s prostate and San bares his neck, pushes his head into the blanket, and offers Wooyoung the perfect moment to move from the dangling jewelry on San’s ear to the necklace hanging over his delicate collarbones. Wooyoung pumps his fingers, picks up his pace and mouths along San’s neckline, and San can do nothing but fall apart beneath him.
“Please,” his voice is strained, eyes flying open from where they were squeezed shut from pleasure to look down at Wooyoung. “God, Young-ah, come on.”
Wooyoung is three fingers deep in San, working him open with avid resolve, and San looks fucked out already. Wooyoung presses his fingers in one more time in a way that is agonizingly slow and runs the hand down San’s thigh, leaving a wet trail.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Wooyoung pulls back from San’s adam’s apple, trails his long neck with his mouth and captures San’s lips for another kiss. He reaches down between his legs, pumps the left-over lube across his shaft, and settles more comfortably between San’s thighs.
“Wanna make you feel even prettier,” Wooyoung says and shifts forward, guiding his cock between San’s ass cheeks. He settles one hand on San’s waist and presses into him, slowly opening him up the last bit of the way to accommodate Wooyoung’s size.
“Yeah–,” San chokes on a moan. He pushes his thighs open wide and combs a hand through Wooyoung’s hair, holding onto him desperately. “Feels so good… You feel so good, Wooyoung.”
Once fully seated inside San Wooyoung stills, leaving time for them both to catch their breath. He brushes San’s fringe from his eyes and smiles down at him warmly, scattering a couple of stray kisses across San’s nose.
“’s this what you wanted?” He asks and even though he feels more composed than San sounds to him, his voice breaks on the first word and he needs to clear his throat halfway through the question. San gives a feeble nod in response, trailing a hand down Wooyoung’s spine.
“Thought you’d find me pretty today,” he sighs, relaxing into Wooyoung’s size, lips falling open in a silent gasp “and I wanted– wanted you to show me, prove me right. Now please, please move.”
Wooyoung chuckles at the eager demand in San’s confession and does as he’s told. He feels his chest swell with pride upon knowing he’s lived up to San’s wishes and read him right beneath the mask he had put up for filming. But there’s something else swelling inside him, settling stifling hot in his chest.
“I love you,” he tells San, pulls back, curls his hand around the tattoo on San’s leg and sinks back into him.
It doesn’t take long for Wooyoung to set up an eager pace, fueled by San’s persistent whines, needy desperation and the desire to please. He keeps one hand low, caressing San’s tattoo or steadying his waist, and assures the other carries his weight. He never wants to stop looking at San or pressing open-mouthed kisses to the skin of his throat, speckled with freckles.
San’s legs hook around his middle as Wooyoung picks up the pace and his hips turn frantic, San’s body rocking back and forth from the force of his thrusts. His knees press into Wooyoung’s sides and he clutches onto Wooyoung with both hands for full support; pulling his hair, scratching at his back, curling around his shoulder. San raises his hips in that agile way that years of taekwondo and choreographed hip thrusts have taught him to meet Wooyoung in the middle, encouraging a more brutal pace.
Wooyoung fucks San with earnesty until a wild shudder wracks San’s body and a desperate sob rips from his heaving chest, high-strung and on fire. San’s legs fall open, slip from Wooyoung’s sides until all he can do is take, take, take from Wooyoung, who is oh so willing to give.
Wooyoung bends over San to capture his arm and press it into the pillow by his head where the adjacent princess jewelry shimmers against San’s skin and hair. One of the earrings has long gone missing amidst the sheets but Wooyoung couldn’t care less for its whereabouts as he leans down to mouth at the other clip-on still hanging from San’s ear.
“I’m so close,” San moans, another shudder wrecking his body when the hot air of Wooyoung’s stuttered breaths hits the shell of his ear. “I’m gonna come, please. Please touch me.”
Wooyoung jerks his hips forward, drives deeper into San, looks at San and reaches up to adjust the tiara in his hair.
San is beautiful and Wooyoung wants to hold onto the sight forever.
He grasps between them and finds San’s cock, jerking him along to the messy rhythm of his hips.
“Come for me, baby”, Wooyoung whispers. His breath fans over San’s lips and they breathe the same air, share the same aim as Wooyoung rolls his hips at an erratic pace, flicks his wrists so quickly it burns, and chases San’s orgasm first. “Let go for me, Sannie.”
San comes with a tired whine, loud and keen, and sinks back into the sheets. Wooyoung keeps his fingers wrapped around him as he fucks the last of his orgasm out of San, until he’s soft and sensitive in his hold. Any former elegance to his movements is lost when Wooyoung nears his own high, desperate to topple over the edge before it becomes too much for San to take, and he ruts into San with every last bit of energy he can muster. The pleasure shocks through him as Wooyoung’s climax hits him hard and he follows San, releasing every last bit of today’s sexual tension into him, hot liquid white.
Wooyoung lowers himself down to his elbows, careful not to crush San beneath his weight, and curls around San’s still frame. His mouth presses into San’s hair as they breathe together, waiting for their matching heartbeats to even out and the after-sex bliss to pull them under. Wooyoung barely has the mind to reach down and pull out before he runs the risk of drifting off into dreamland. San, beneath him, looks very well like he’s halfway there already.
Time and time again, Wooyoung is thankful for the tissues San keeps in his room, for nights like these, where Hongjoong comes home early and they end up in San’s bed, and his snotty nose alike. He uses a generous amount of tissues to wipe himself clean from lube and both their loads before moving on to San. With San’s belly and legs free from any fluids, Wooyoung curls into San’s side and nuzzles a kiss into his cheek. He’ll just shower in the morning when he’s arguably more awake and duty calls. For now, he is not at all willing to move from San’s side and all the more willing to sacrifice his hygiene to the cause of post-sex cuddles.
His boyfriend peeks an eye open when Wooyoung scatters kisses along his hairline, meeting his eyes with a tired smile. “Thank you, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung sends him a small grin and watches as San falls into motion, struggling to open the clip that has remained stuck to his ear.
“I was kinda preoccupied earlier, so I didn’t say it back,” he shoots Wooyoung a blindingly soft smile and places the earring on his bedside table, “but I do love you as well.”
Wooyoung knows that San does without needing to hear it, but the words make him light up all the same. He watches San seemingly debate removing the necklace for a bit when his fingers catch onto the pendant and play it between his fingers, but the overlying exhaustion and present comfort come out victorious. Wooyoung reaches into San’s air-dried hair and tugs the tiara free. It’s a momentary struggle against the messy locks, curly from the shower, but after a few seconds of gentle fiddling with the strands the tiara joins the clip-on on the table.
“You’re my favorite,” Wooyoung whispers into San’s ear, brushes a hand through San’s fluffy, freshly washed hair, like it’s a secret he wants to keep safe. In reality, Wooyoung wants nothing more than to scream the words out into the world, until there is no single doubt left about his love for the man before him and his pure, immaculate heart.
San’s eyes slip shut without delay as he melts into the gentleness of Wooyoung’s touch, the small content smile unchanging on his lips. Wooyoung is almost sure San has fallen asleep like this and reaches across the boy once more to turn off the last remaining light in the room, when a soft question rings out in the newfound darkness of the bedroom.
“We’re keeping the jewelry, okay?”