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“Woo-ya, you gotta stay still.”
San’s big hands rest on his thigh. He isn’t squeezing, but he might as well be. The alcohol wipe is angled above his v-line. The tattoo pen sits nearby, imposing. Wooyoung swallows thickly. San’s voice sits deep in his stomach like lava. “Sorry, Sannie.”
San smiles softly. “‘S okay,” he says. He pushes his glasses up his nose and gives Wooyoung a gentle smile. “Just relax, Youngie.”
Wooyoung grits his teeth and looks up at the ceiling. It’s hard to relax when he’s willing himself not to cum on the spot. San’s hand is right above his stomach and the sight makes him dizzy.
They’ve seen each other shirtless, nearly naked plenty of times. But this is different. San’s never been this close, has never had his big hands so close to Wooyoung's dick. He’s achingly gentle, which is a blessing and a curse.
“All done,” San says. Wooyoung looks down to see San smiling at him. There’s a razor sitting nearby and Wooyoung comes to the horrifying conclusion that San has to shave him. Wooyoung feels stupid for not doing it himself.
Wooyoung swallows. When San leans over, Wooyoung smells his cologne and his mind swims with cherry-red arousal. “You’re gonna use that?”
San follows his line of sight. “This?” He asks. “Yeah. Your tattoo’s gonna be kinda low.” Wooyoung inhales sharply. San’s hand settles near the curve of his waist. “It’ll be okay, Woo-ya. I promise.”
“I believe you,” Wooyoung replies. Listening to San is his second nature. It’s in his DNA to be San’s good boy.
San smiles at that. Some of his hair falls into his eyes and Wooyoung wants to brush it away. He reaches for the electric razor and changes the attachment. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says softly. The horny part of Wooyoung’s brain knows San would talk him through their first time.
Wooyoung clenches his jaw and stays perfectly still. It feels like ten minutes before San pulls away and blows gently on Wooyoung’s skin. “Feels okay?” He asks. Wooyoung just nods.
The songs get grittier. The radio playing Californication must be a form of psychological warfare. San pulls out a tracing pen and a piece of transfer paper. San’s fingers make every gentle touch feel heavier.
“I’m just sketching,” San says. He’s focused, breath warm on Wooyoung’s skin. “Nothing permanent.”
Wooyoung just nods. San traces over the paper, eyes narrowed and tongue caught between his teeth. The ink seeps into his skin and Wooyoung can practically feel it. “Are you sure about this, Young-ah?”
San probably has fifteen tattoos, and those are just the ones Wooyoung knows about. There’s no one more qualified to give him his first one. It’s free, and Wooyoung’s already swimming in enough student debt.
Wooyoung nods. It took Yeosang an hour to design a suitable tattoo he won’t regret in five years. The issue? It’s a v-line tattoo. It’ll look good, and he’ll look pretty, but the emotional cost is decidedly high.
San hums softly. The broken radio in his studio is now playing muffled Nirvana and Guns N’ Roses. His voice settles right under Wooyoung’s skin, next to the rubbing alcohol and the medical-grade ink. “Have you been working out?” He asks.
Wooyoung nearly twitches. “Sometimes,” he replies. “Just abs and stuff.”
San’s eyes land on his covered chest and immediately dart away. “You should join hyung and I,” he says. Wooyoung has to bite his tongue and swallow down a whimper. San isn’t doing anything on purpose—and that’s the problem.
“I—” Wooyoung swallows. He stares at the large Patrick Nagel poster on San’s inspiration wall. “I kinda like the quiet.”
San laughs. It’s warm and full-bodied like red wine. “You like the quiet?” He asks, and Wooyoung scowls like an angry cat. “Not believing that one, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung hates the quiet, but anything’s better than seeing sweat disappear under the neckline of San’s shirt. He’d rather watch America’s Top Ten Home Videos on the Stairmaster than watch San bench press two hundred pounds.
Wooyoung finally tears his eyes away from the ceiling and looks down at San’s handiwork. It’s beautiful, an ornate cyber sigil that trails across his pelvis and stops right below his happy trail.
San leans back. “You like it?” He asks. He has this hopeful look in his eyes, and a sweet pout on his lips Wooyoung wants to kiss away.
It’s hard to stare at the fine lines on his skin when San’s sitting in front of him in a tight black shirt. But he forces himself to. San deserves that much. He sits up. “It’s beautiful, Sannie,” he says. “I love it.”
“Really?” San smiles. His eyes sparkle. “I did my best for you.”
Wooyoung swallows. How is he supposed to be normal when San’s this sweet? Sweet, perfect San. The San who worries about sterile tools and disinfected skin more than the nurses at CVS.
“I can change anything if you want me to,” San says. He leans forward, and veins pop out of his arms and hands. Wooyoung stifles a whimper.
“You don’t have to change anything, San-ah,” Wooyoung replies. His admission would be better sealed with a passionate kiss on the lips. “It’s perfect.”
San’s glasses are a little crooked, and Wooyoung leans forward to adjust them. San’s skin is warm to the touch.
When Wooyoung pulls away, San is flushed pink. “Slash from Guns ’N Roses played the guitar on this song,” San says. “Hongjoong-hyung told me that.”
Wooyoung smiles. “You’re such a nerd.”
“Your nerd,” San replies. And that does something dangerous to Wooyoung’s heart. He’s spent the better part of two hours staring at San’s big hands, imagining them wrapped around his waist. He’s spent even longer wishing San would bend him over the vinyl chair, gloved fingers deep inside him.
“I didn’t know you were mine, San-ah,” he says. The lava in his stomach is dangerously close to spilling out of his mouth. “Have something to tell me?”
San hums. “It’s gonna hurt, Woo-ya,” he says. He reaches for the tattoo pen. “Tell me if you need a break.”
According to Reddit, stomach tattoos are supposed to hurt more than ones on the arms or legs. Wooyoung swallows thickly. “We’ve made it this far, Sannie.”
“It’s not gonna hurt as much since you’re not getting it colored.” San says. Wooyoung feels the tip of the pen press into his skin, and he bites his bottom lip. “Relax for me, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung watches San lean down. “‘M gonna start now,” he says. Wooyoung nods. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes another deep breath.
The first touch is painful. It’s a deep, searing pain that has Wooyoung wondering why he decided to get a tattoo in the first place. It doesn’t help that he’s sensitive. “Woo-ya,” San says softly. “You’re doing so well.”
Wooyoung fails to stifle his whimper this time. “San-ah,” he whispers. San’s hand is steady, the heel of his palm pressing into Wooyoung’s hipbone. “Sannie—it hurts.”
“C’mon, Young-ah,” San murmurs. Voice low and smooth like velvet. “You’re almost there.” Wooyoung finally opens his eyes. San is halfway through the first sigil. “You’re gonna look even prettier when it’s done.”
Wooyoung’s breath gets caught in his throat. “You think I’m pretty?” He asks. San hums over the sound of the tattoo pen.
“You know you’re pretty, Young-ah,” he replies. Blue evening light streams in through the window and Wooyoung can see all the stars in his eyes.
“‘S not what I asked,” Wooyoung says. San leans back for a moment, eyeing the tattoo cautiously. “Do you think I’m pretty, Sannie?”
San nods. “Of course I do.” He leans forward again, and Wooyoung winces. “You’ve always been so pretty, Young-ah.”
Is San trying to distract him? If he is, it’s working. “You’re pretty, too,” Wooyoung says softly. San grips his hip with one hand and Wooyoung hopes his touch will bruise.
“Thank you, Youngie.” Wooyoung keeps his eyes open. He tries to ignore the pain, focusing on the way San’s broad shoulders taper to a tiny waist, the way his black shirt clings to his arms, exposing his biceps.
San gently pushes Wooyoung’s shirt up his chest. He finally starts on the second half of the first sigil. Wooyoung is nearly shaking, sweat rolling down the back of his neck. “Do you—ah—” Wooyoung swallows. “Do you like my long hair, San-ah?”
Wooyoung pushes a little harder, tests San’s limits because he knows the other boy is pliable. San nods. Wooyoung finds the strength to smirk. “Are you sure, Sannie?” He asks. “Because I was thinking about cutting it.”
San grips his hip a little harder. “It’s your hair, Young-ah,” he says. “But you look really pretty with long hair.”
Despite his best efforts, Wooyoung’s cock twitches in his pants. Between San’s veiny hands being half an inch away from his bare skin, the weight of San’s praise on his chest, and the stuffy studio, Wooyoung is moments away from passing out.
“Almost done, Woo-ya,” San says softly. The tent in Wooyoung’s shorts is getting more and more obvious. Only San could ever make him leak like a faucet.
“Ah—Sannie.” Wooyoung grips the arms of the chair. The vinyl squeaks under his nails. San rests his free hand on the space below his pecs. “Is it over yet?”
San leans back for a moment, but the pain returns in an instant. “So close, Youngie,” he says. “Do you wanna get ice cream after this?”
“I want you,” Wooyoung wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat. His cock aches and he’s so desperate it’s hard to breathe. San’s so focused on the tattoo that he doesn’t seem to notice the problem inches away from his face.
“There,” San murmurs. “All done.” He sets the pen down and leans forward to stroke Wooyoung’s cheek. “You did so well, Youngie.”
And that’s all it takes for Wooyoung to moan, cock painfully hard. “San—San-ah,” he whimpers. “Shit—‘m sorry.”
San leans back, and his eyes finally land on the bulge in Wooyoung’s pants. “Young-ah,” he whispers. “Don’t be.”
Wooyoung’s bottom lip wobbles. He wasn’t able to move before, but he’s shaking now. “Sannie,” he whispers. “San-ah, I like you.”
San smiles. He moves forward, resting his hands on Wooyoung’s thighs. “You’re shaking, Youngie,” he says. “Are you that nervous?”
Wooyoung scowls like an angry cat. “Shut up,” he hisses, all bark but no bite. “You did this to me.”
San laughs. “I take full responsibility,” he replies. His cheeks are stained a gorgeous pink. “I like you too, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung sniffs. “You do?” He feels dumb for even asking. San’s staring at him like he sculpted the moon. He probably could have been dating San for years if he had just taken the leap.
“Young-ah,” San whispers. “C’mon.” His palms press into Wooyoung’s skin. He leans down and kisses the spot just above the finished tattoo.
“Fuck—San-ah—”
“I gotta wrap you first,” San says. His biceps flex with every movement. When he stands up, Wooyoung stares at the growing bulge in San’s sweatpants. “Don’t wanna mess up your tattoo.”
San stands up for a moment. He returns with a bottle of soap and a paper towel. It hurts a lot less now that the extra weight is off Wooyoung’s chest. “So I was stupid for even thinking you didn’t love me,” he says.
San smiles. He leans forward and blots Wooyoung’s skin dry. “A little,” he replies. “But I love you anyway.”
Wooyoung wants to bite him, but San is the one in control. He leans back and lets San place the clear bandage over his tattoo. When he’s done, he presses his lips against his skin. “Sannie.” San barely touched him and he’s already coming undone.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” San asks. His breath is warm against Wooyoung’s red skin.
Wooyoung shakes his head. “You give great aftercare,” he says. San rolls his eyes and gently swats Wooyoung’s thigh.
“Stay still for me,” San says. Wooyoung whines when San slots himself between his legs, looking up at Wooyoung with his catlike eyes. San pushes Wooyoung’s shirt up his chest and drags his tongue along every bump and curve of his skin.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung whimpers. He arches his back and grips the vinyl seat. “More.”
“Young-ah,” San murmurs. “You’re so pretty like this.” Wooyoung’s skin is sticky with sweat and San’s spit. San’s taking his sweet time, branding his touch into Wooyoung’s lower stomach.
“Since I gave you this tattoo,” San murmurs, “it’s kinda like you’re mine.” He punctuates his words by gently biting Wooyoung’s inner thigh.
“San—ah!” Wooyoung arches into the touch. He threads his fingers through San’s dark hair. He tugs gently. “‘ve always been yours, Sannie.”
San’s big hands cover his waist entirely. His touch is possessive and Wooyoung can’t get enough. Wooyoung can only writhe and whimper in San’s hands.
San pulls away and admires his handiwork. Artist that he is, he’s precise. Wooyoung’s stomach and chest are covered in red marks. His skin is slick with spit, body on fire.
San leans back. “C’mere, baby,” he says softly. He gestures to his lap, and Wooyoung’s mouth waters. He straddles San’s thighs and finally presses his lips together.
Wooyoung kisses San like a man starved. He has been starved for six long years. He licks into San’s mouth, sucks on his tongue and whimpers at the taste. San’s hand settles in Wooyoung’s hair.
Wooyoung smiles. San’s lips brush against his nose. “You really like my long hair,” he says.
San squeezes his waist with his free hand. His clothed cock presses against Wooyoung’s hole and he’s so fucking big. “I told you that earlier,” he says. “You’re so pretty, Wooyoungie.”
“San-ah,” Wooyoung whimpers. San smells so good and it’s making him dizzy. “Please—ah—please touch me.”
San tilts his head. He slots their lips together again, practically fucking his tongue in and out of Wooyoung’s mouth. Spit slides down Wooyoung’s chin and San licks it away. “I am touching you, baby.”
San presses his lips against Wooyoung’s throat, biting and sucking marks into his untouched skin. “San-ah,” Wooyoung whines. “Kiss.”
San cups Wooyoung face and runs his thumbs along his cheekbones. He presses their lips together, coaxing his tongue into Wooyoung’s mouth. “So cute, Wooyoungie,” San purrs. “No one loves you more than I do.”
Wooyoung lets out a choked sob. He’s so close and San hasn’t even fucked him yet. He kisses San again, noses at his cheek and breathes him in. San’s attention is all his—it’s too much and not enough.
Wooyoung hums softly. He mouths at San’s neck, licking, biting and kissing every inch of skin he can reach. He’s wanted this for so long that San’s sweat on his tongue feels unreal. “You’re mine.”
Wooyoung slips a hand under San’s shirt and finally rests a hand on his pecs. “San-ah,” he whispers. He grabs San’s chest, his arms, anything and everything. He wants all of him.
“How do you wanna do this?” San asks. He kisses Wooyoung’s cheek. “You could ride my thigh. Or I could suck you off.” All good options.
Wooyoung knows what he wants, but he pretends to think for a moment. “San-ah, I’m not gonna cum without your cock in me.” San groans at that.
San’s looking at him like he wants—needs to swallow him whole. He presses two fingers against the seam of Wooyoung’s lips. “Open up, Young-ah,” he murmurs. Wooyoung listens too well, takes San’s fingers into his mouth without a second thought.
“Fuck,” San groans. Wooyoung looks up at him through his eyelashes. San’s probably imagining his soft lips wrapped around his cock. His free hand settles on Wooyoung’s ass and squeezes.
San pulls his fingers out and Wooyoung licks his lips. “Wet enough?” He asks. The searing pain in his lower stomach is barely noticeable now.
San kisses the corner of his mouth. “You’re such a brat,” he says. He’s smiling and Wooyoung can taste it.
“Your brat.” Wooyoung bats his eyes and rolls his hips. He needs San inside him so badly it hurts. “You’re so big, San-ah,” he says. “But I already knew that.”
“Shit,” San hisses. “Young-ah, you can’t say things like that.”
Wooyoung slowly sinks to his knees, mouthing at the bulge in San’s pants. “Why not?” He says sweetly. “Can I suck you off, San-ah?” San groans, resting a hand in his long hair.
San whimpers at that. He nods, watching with wide eyes as Wooyoung slides his pants down his thighs. His mouth waters. “Sannie,” he whispers. He toys with the waistband of San’s boxers.
San strokes the side of his face with his free hand. “So pretty, Young-ah,” he says softly. He gently tugs Wooyoung’s hair, and the other boy lets out a whine. He was being a brat earlier, but he can barely wrap his fist around San’s cock.
Spit collects at the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth as he stares. San’s the only one who’s had him like this, kneeling below him with his lips wrapped around his pretty cock. He swirls his tongue around the tip, feels the weight of San’s cock in his mouth.
“Fuck—Youngie,” San grips the arms of the chair. He sounds so pretty and needy like this. Dark hair falls into his eyes and he’s ethereal. Wooyoung grips his thighs and San flexes under his fingertips.
Wooyoung pulls off for a moment. “Feels good, San-ah?” He asks. He wraps his lips around San’s cock before the other boy can answer. His hips jerk and Wooyoung whines, clothed cock pressing against San’s foot.
San runs his thumb along Wooyoung’s cheek, across the mole under his eye. He’s biting his bottom lip, but Wooyoung needs to hear him whimper. He tightens his grip on San’s thighs, hollows his cheeks and sucks.
“Ngh—Young-ah—” San groans and Wooyoung smiles around a mouthful of his cock. He swallows him down to the base, cock straining desperately against the fabric of his boxers. “Shit—‘m close.”
Wooyoung laps and sucks and curls his tongue, practically drooling all over San’s cock. He could probably cum just like this. He pulls off, lips red and slick with spit. He licks his lips and wraps his fingers around San’s cock.
“Youngie—what—”
“Cum on my face,” Wooyoung says. He strokes him slowly, pressing his thumb against the slit. The slide is wet and sticky. San whimpers and rolls his head back, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
Wooyoung works him up and down. San’s so big, Wooyoung imagines a bulge appearing in his lower stomach when he finally slides inside. San’s bottom lip trembles. His face is flushed like the middle of summer.
Wooyoung licks a stripe up the underside of San’s cock, and that’s all it takes for the other boy to come undone. He cums with a deep groan, paints Wooyoung’s face like a tapestry of his own devotion.
Wooyoung crawls back into San’s lap. When they kiss, Wooyoung wonders if San can taste himself. San’s big hands rest on his ass, thumb pressing against his clothed hole. Wooyoung whimpers softly, sliding his tongue between San’s lips.
San sucks another mark into his skin, and Wooyoung pulls away for a moment. “Choi San—if you don’t fuck me soon, I will cry.”
“Ah, sorry, Youngie,” San says. “Lube’s in my backpack.” Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, and San smiles. “Wishful thinking, Woo-ya.”
Wooyoung sets the bottle on the side table. His lips brush against San’s when he moves closer. “How long have you been thinking about fucking me?”
San closes the distance between them. “Senior year of high school,” he says. He pushes his fingers between Wooyoung’s parted lips, pushes them in so deep spit slides down his chin. Wooyoung whimpers. He melts into San’s touch, waits for the other boy to use him as he pleases.
Wooyoung presses their lips together again. “Why—ah—why didn’t you say anything?”
San pouts. “You’re so pretty, Young-ah,” he says softly. “I didn’t think I had a chance.” Maybe Wooyoung wasn’t the stupid one after all. “Let me make it up to you.” His hand slips past Wooyoung’s waistband, index and middle fingers pressing against his hole. Wooyoung just nods, too lovestruck to bite back.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung whispers. He helps San pull his black t-shirt over his head. His mouth waters. San’s skin is unmarked, honey-sweet and golden.
San pushes his first finger in achingly slow. Wooyoung bites San’s bottom lip, taking it between his teeth. He’s lost count of the times he’s touched himself to the thought of San’s fingers inside him. The real thing is always better.
Wooyoung breathes into San’s mouth, cradling his face in his hands. “Sannie,” he whispers. “San-ah.”
Wooyoung’s never been this close to San before. Now that he’s tasted San, felt the other boy’s lips on his skin, there’s no coming back. San’s whimpering against his neck like he’s getting off on making Wooyoung feel good, fucking his fingers in and out of his hole like they’re his cock.
“Shit—Young-ah,” San groans. His leaking cock presses against Wooyoung’s toned stomach. “You’re so warm inside.”
San’s hand is on his back, then his neck, then his waist. His hand moves across Wooyoung’s body like he wants to swallow him whole. San mouths at Wooyoung’s neck, trails kisses down his chest.
Wooyoung barely notices when San pushes another finger inside, too caught up in the slide of their lips and the pressure on his cock. “Ah—San-ah.”
San curls his fingers and swallows Wooyoung’s whimpers. “You’d look pretty with a lower back tattoo.”
Wooyoung clicks his tongue. He’s gripping San’s shoulders, riding his fingers like they’re his cock. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you wanna fuck me from behind.”
San is practically purring against him. “Is that so bad?” His biceps are bulging, collarbones and pecs glistening with sweat. Wooyoung shakes his head. He sinks his teeth into San’s golden skin, sucks a vibrant mark into the skin above his right nipple.
San slides a third finger inside his aching hole. This time, they press against his prostate and Wooyoung lets out a sigh. He won’t be fully satiated until San’s cum is dripping down his thighs.
San’s moving achingly slow. Wooyoung should be more impatient, should tell San to just fuck him already, but he arches into the touch and lets San take his time. “San—ah.” Wooyoung’s eyes rolls back and his tongue lolls out. “I wanna cum with you inside me.”
San’s cock twitches against his thigh. “Shit,” he hisses. He squeezes Wooyoung’s waist and slowly slides his fingers out of his hole. Wooyoung tosses his shirt and pants across the room. He slides back into San’s lap, resting his hand on his chest.
Wooyoung’s canines catch on San’s bottom lip when he kisses him. Everything’s electric blue and Wooyoung can only see San through the haze. He rests his hands on Wooyoung’s waist and squeezes. Wooyoung hopes he’ll see San’s fingerprints on his skin tomorrow morning. “Be careful, Young-ah.”
Wooyoung whines, thighs shaking as he sinks down onto San’s cock. The other boy is so big he can feel him in his throat. He stops halfway, gripping San’s shoulders for support. “Woo-ya,” San whispers. “Baby.”
“Fuck,” Wooyoung whispers. “You’re so big, Sannie.” San’s cock twitches inside him and Wooyoung whimpers, aches to be filled.
San gently squeezes his waist. Every drag of his cock along Wooyoung’s walls draws another moan from his parted lips. “Young-ah.” Something warm and possessive unfurls in Wooyoung’s lower stomach. San looks ethereal like this—all his.
It takes Wooyoung a moment to adjust to the fullness inside him, ass flush against San’s thighs. He mouths at San’s neck, nips at his exposed collarbones. When he’s finally seated, he stares down at the bulge in his stomach, at the way his body makes room for San’s cock.
San looks at him with stars in his eyes. “You’re doing so well, Young-ah.” He gently presses his thumb against Wooyoung’s lower stomach, and the other boy nearly sobs.
San doesn’t press or push. He just holds Wooyoung close as the other boy rolls his hips. Wooyoung slots their lips together and tastes cranberry juice and Monster on his tongue. San tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Feels good, baby?”
The tip of San’s cock presses against his prostate and Wooyoung buries his face in his neck. “Feels—ah!—feels so good, San-ah.”
San curls his fingers around his jaw. “So pretty, Wooyoungie,” he says softly. He watches with wide eyes as Wooyoung pulls him closer, fucking himself back on his cock. They fit perfectly together.
“Youngie—Young-ah,” San whimpers. He stays still, lets Wooyoung use his cock to get himself off. Wooyoung reaches for his hand and squeezes. “Fuck—you feel so good.”
Wooyoung’s thighs burn. He whimpers softly. “You can help me, San-ah,” he says. San holds his waist, gently guiding Wooyoung onto his cock. His biceps bulge as he pulls Wooyoung flush against him.
“You’re taking me so well, Young-ah,” San murmurs. “So good for me.” Wooyoung slots their lips together, licking into San’s mouth like he’ll never taste him again. San keeps him close, swallows the pretty moans and whines on his tongue.
San is so pretty beneath him. His hair is ruffled, lips bitten and red, skin flushed and glistening with sweat. He’s perfect—all for Wooyoung. San’s cock twitches inside him and Wooyoung lets out a high-pitched whimper.
“Shit—‘m sorry, Young-ah,” San says. Wooyoung just smiles. He grinds down on his cock, letting out little mewls every time his leaking cock presses against San’s abs. The marks on San’s neck are pretty, but they’re not enough. Wooyoung holds the base of San’s neck and sinks his teeth in.
San’s getting close and Wooyoung can feel it. His cock is throbbing inside him, dragging against his walls every time Wooyoung moves his hips. San finally thrusts up to meet his movements once he knows he’s allowed.
San’s whining and panting into his mouth like he’s the one getting fucked. He’s getting off on making Wooyoung feel good and it’s the hottest things he’s ever seen. Wooyoung grips San’s biceps, moving his hips in perfect circles. He doesn’t even reach for his cock. He can cum just like this.
Between San’s grip on his waist and his aching thighs, it’s hard to move. Wooyoung grits his teeth, fucking himself on San’s cock as he chases his orgasm. Wooyoung kisses him and feels San’s smile in his teeth.
“San-ah,” Wooyoung whimpers. “Sannie—‘m so close.” San’s eyes are fixed on him like he’s the moon and the stars and everything in between. He presses their lips together, tightens around San’s cock just to hear the other boy whine.
“I’ve got you, Woo-ya,” San whispers. He thrusts upwards, big cock pressing against Wooyoung’s prostate. Wooyoung slumps forward, lets San handle him like a ragdoll.
“Inside,” Wooyoung says against San’s skin. “Cum inside.” San’s pants and moans mix with his whimpers and make him dizzy. “You can do it, San-ah.”
San cums with a groan, mouth falling open as he paints Wooyoung’s insides white. The sound goes straight to Wooyoung’s cock. He cums all over his stomach and leans forward, pressing their lips together.
San whines when Wooyoung rolls his hips again, cock throbbing inside him. Wooyoung purrs softly. He stares at where they’re connected and smiles. San strokes his cheek. “I love you,” he whispers.
Wooyoung’s exhausted, skin on fire, but he kisses back. The slide of their tongues is filthy. “I love you too,” he says. “You’re all mine, San-ah.”
San nods. “All yours.”
Wooyoung could stay like this forever, but his back aches and his tattoo stings. He tries to lift himself up, but San stops him. “Young-ah,” San murmurs, soft and gentle. “Let me clean you up.”
San carries Wooyoung to his flamingo pink couch. The AC starts blasting and the cool air feels incredible on Wooyoung’s scorching skin. “Young-ah,” he says. “D’you feel okay?”
Wooyoung nods. Exhaustion seeps into his bones, but he’s never felt more awake. He rests his head on San’s chest, tucking himself under his chin. San wraps an arm around him. His grip is warm, possessive.
“Are you hungry?” San asks, and Wooyoung shakes his head. San pulls a tiger-print blanket over their bodies. “So pretty,” he whispers.
San gently cards his fingers through Wooyoung’s long hair. Wooyoung leans into the touch like a tired cat. “Sannie,” he whispers. He doesn’t tell San he belongs to him, that he doesn’t plan on leaving, because the other boy already knows.
San smiles. “I know, Young-ah.” He rests his head against the pillow and his eyes flutter closed. The stinging pain in his lower stomach is more of a dull ache now.
“San-ah?” Wooyoung says softly. San leans down and kisses his temple. He looks at him with so much love Wooyoung wants to cry.
“Mm?”
“I wanna get matching tattoos.”