Work Text:
“Smoothies?” San turned his head around to see Wooyoung firmly holding down the top of the blender. His boyfriend didn’t hear him over the loud grinding of the blades. “It’s the middle of winter.”
“There are some good fruits in season,” Wooyoung stated flatly, grabbing a spoon to sample his concoction.
“I’m from the country, do you really think I’m that gullible?” He still had only his head turned towards the calamity in the kitchen. “The only things in season at this time are usually citrus fruits, and that smoothie looks far too green to be made of oranges.”
Wooyoung smacked his lips after tasting the scooped out portion. The smoothie was actually fairly sweet for containing so many vegetables. He increased the ratio of pineapple juice to everything else in an attempt to mask any possible raw vegetable taste. The acid from the fruit may have been overwhelming for some, but Wooyoung didn’t care. All he needed was for the drink to not taste like kale and spinach.
“I just think it's good to keep our diets balanced year-round.” He began to pour the drink into two separate glasses, one for him and one for San. “We can thank the industrial revolution for this opportunity.”
“Capitalist monster…” San tutted and sank back into the couch.
The younger walked over to the couch with a glass in each hand, offering his boyfriend one as he plopped down next to him. Wooyoung tried to play it cool, nonchalantly holding the drink in front of San as he sipped his own. Almost like he had just gotten them sodas from the fridge. This whole gesture needed to seem as normal as possible for there to be any chance San would accept the suspiciously green liquid.
Generally, San would happily receive any gift Wooyoung gave him: dinners, chocolates, flowers, clothes–but his stubborn nature prevailed when it came to a handful of things. The gift of improving his absolutely atrocious diet happened to be in that handful. They could work out together, sure. Yet San found no need to change the way he ate. He was in tip-top shape, with broad shoulders, thinned waist and toned muscles. He was noticeably more built than any of their friends. You wouldn’t think that the turn around in his physique in the last two years would have even been possible without a single vegetable voluntarily passing through him. If you spent only one week with San, you would understand that the sheer volume of meat this man ate was solely responsible for any of his bodily functions.
Recently, Wooyoung had been fairly successful in sneaking in certain foods he knew San regularly declined into his cooking. Seaweed, thank god, was a green light for the country boy. Additionally, Wooyoung’s conversational skills distracted San from noticing the difference between the seaweed and spinach in his soup. Fruits were easier, but often were accompanied with something high in sugar. Ice cream, soda, whatever it may be. At least he ate them willingly, so Wooyoung was hopeful the pineapple in the smoothie would blow over the fact that it was greener than the hills of Namhae.
Wooyoung was only half worried about the lack of vegetables San consumed. Honestly, Wooyoung knew that he would be just fine. They were both in their early twenties and it was not like either of them would go into cardiac arrest from a low level of Vitamin A, and with the amount of exercise they do San would’ve dropped dead by now if it was a real problem. Wooyoung took more of a personal issue with this habit. After having held the glass up without the relief of its weight from his hand, Wooyoung turned his head to see San staring at the glass with a childish wince on his face.
“Just take it,” Wooyoung nudged his hand closer to San’s face.
“No,” the blonde resolutely replied, “what did you do, blend up the front yard? And you want me to drink it?”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes and let a sigh out of his nose.
“Well don’t be wasteful, c’mon. It tastes good too, I put a lot of pineapple juice in it.” He prodded the glass closer to San’s face, threatening to press it up against his mouth. San took the glass in both hands and defiantly set it down on the coffee table in front of them. “God you’re fucking kidding me, Choi San.”
“What? I’m not hungry, I don’t know why you even made it for me.” San reclined back into the couch, lightly waving his hand to signal Wooyoung to lean back into his chest. Wooyoung just sat, elbows on his knees, drinking his smoothie. Maybe snubbing San a little would do the trick. Afterall, Wooyoung was the expert in playing hard to get.
They watched the television in silence for a while. A considerable amount of time had passed since Wooyoung finished his drink, and he hadn’t budged from his sitting position. The light from the television traveled straight through the empty glass, making the dark glass stand in stark contrast to the one next to it. Even though he was done drinking Wooyoung still hadn’t leaned back into San’s arms, and San noticed.
“Are you okay?” San spoke up during a commercial break, leaning forward slightly to catch a glimpse of Wooyoung’s expression.
“Mmhm.” Wooyoung hummed. He didn’t even bother to look back over his shoulder.
“Young-ah.” San scooted forward to look at his boyfriend’s face. “What’s bothering you? Is it the smoothie? I’m sorry, but, you know I don’t like–”
“Can’t you just try it?” Wooyoung interjected, annoyed. San was usually pretty good at guessing what bothered Wooyoung, but it never made the problems any easier.
San was taken aback. He blinked. Is this seriously about… the damn smoothie? His mind raced, going through the last week in chronological order attempting to find some built up issue that would have finally come to a head tonight. It’s common for couples to cover up their overarching issues with menial fights, and this could be an instance of that. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, though. Except one thing.
He had noticed how much more often Wooyoung had been cooking vegetables and insisting on fruits during their meals together. In the beginning of their relationship, Wooyoung had been overly accommodating of San’s picky diet and vice versa. It seemed like for the first month, they were only eating their favorite foods together. It was probably a manifestation of their honeymoon phase which in reality, never really left. But now, something had shifted. Something was bothering Wooyoung and the fact that San had no clue what it could be killed him. They were always in tune with each other, mostly because they had promised to put all of their cards on the table. An anxious feeling bubbled in his stomach the more he let his mind wander in the silence between them.
“Does this have something to do with you trying to force feed me vegetables recently?” San didn’t bother to answer Wooyoung’s rhetorical question.
“What?” Wooyoung’s ears turned red. Play dumb play dumb play dumb, he thought to himself.
“Is something wrong?” The blonde turned to fully face his boyfriend, sitting atop one of his legs now tucked under him. It was sweet, the way San always gave all his attention to Wooyoung when he knew he needed it most.
“No I’m just… I’m just worried about your health.” He lied. “I want you to take me seriously, and it feels like you don’t.”
“Young-ah.” San laughed in disbelief. Wooyoung was the one thing in his life he couldn’t ever take lightly. “You’re seriously worried about my health? Look at me. Do you think I’m severely unhealthy?”
Wooyoung sighed again, but this time with a twinge of defeat. He pushed his hair back and faced San, taking his hands into his. He looked up at his boyfriend. God, San was so genuine and endearing Wooyoung could throw up. He could tell that all San wanted to do was make him happy. He still looked at Wooyoung like he had just realized that he had the love of his life before him; Wooyoung didn’t want to shatter that with the truth hidden behind the smoothie sitting on the table next to them.
“It’s not that I think you’re unhealthy, San-ah. I think you’re fine.” He pursed his lips, still deciding whether or not he should reveal the intent behind his actions blatantly or tip toe around it. “Will you just… do it for me? Please.”
“For you?” One of San’s eyebrows cocked up in confusion. “What would me drinking this do for you ?”
A prolonged silence followed. Their TV show had ended, but the laughter of some late-night show was not enough to break the awkward and anticipating tension between them.
“Young-ah.” A soft hand lightly pressed on the side of Wooyoung’s jaw. “Talk to me.”
“You have to promise you won’t be offended,” Wooyoung started.
Shit. That made San nervous, but Wooyoung couldn’t tell.
“What are we, in middle school? You can tell me if something is bothering you.” San ran his thumb back and forth against the softness of Wooyoung’s cheek, reassuring him of the safety between them.
His boyfriend cupped the hand resting on his face.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Wooyoung.” The anxiety that sat in the pit of San’s stomach began to expand, creeping up to form a small lump in his throat.
“Okay okay. I just…” Wooyoung leaned in and gave San a quick peck on the lips, keeping his face dangerously close as he pulled away only enough to speak. “I want to be able to taste you more often.”
His eyes opened slowly to see San’s lascivious expression, clearly distracted by the combination of the tender kiss and his words. San fought the trance he was in, and then the questions started flooding in. Taste him more often? What does that mean? They fucked almost every night. Was there not enough opportunities for blowjobs? Did he mean kiss? Was his breath bad because of his diet? Did his spit taste like meat? Is this really upsetting him that bad?
All these questions manifested as an urgently unsettled: “What do you mean?”
“Um… like when…” Wooyoung tilted his head down bashfully. “When I… swallow…”
He was looking up eagerly at San, hoping that he could read between the lines. He stared back with a blank expression. Clearly, he wasn’t picking up what Wooyoung was putting down. San’s naivete was both a blessing and a curse. Wooyoung could be vulgar, absolutely–but he was trying to be gentle this time. Perhaps he didn’t have a choice anymore.
“Swallow what?” San furrowed his brows, watching his boyfriend chew his bottom lip hesitantly. Then, the realization dawned on him all at once. “My cum?”
Wooyoung nodded, going in for another quick kiss. This time, though, San pulled back. He placed his hands on the top of Wooyoung’s small shoulders, stopping his approach front traveling closer inwards.
“Is there something wrong with it?” If Wooyoung didn’t know better, he would think San was offended. The dire tone of the question revealed that really, he was dumbfounded. Distressed only for Wooyoung’s sake.
“No, not there’s nothing necessarily wrong with it, it's just…” He should stop hesitating. This conversation would have been so much easier if Wooyoung had just flat out stated: San, your cum tastes like battery acid and it burns as it travels down my esophagus… and if you don’t eat some kind of fruit or vegetable right now my stomach will become a Class 7 biohazard. “The taste makes it hard to–”
“THE TASTE?” San interrupted, his mouth hung ajar. No, no, no no no. No way. Wooyoung was San’s first everything; Wooyoung was the standard for kissing, sex, everything under the sun. But often San forgets that Wooyoung has been with other people, and probably tasted their cum. The thought made him sick, but it was made worse by the fact that Wooyoung actually had others to compare it to; it wasn’t that he didn’t like the taste of cum in general. It was his cum in particular that tasted so bad he had difficulty swallowing.
Shame hit him like a shockwave. San didn’t even know cum could taste bad or good. He thought it all tasted the same. Cum was cum. Had Wooyoung been toughing it out this whole time? He tried to recount all the times he came in his boyfriend’s mouth. Too many to count at this point. It was a sight he loved seeing, and both of them knew it. Wooyoung on his knees, mouth slightly open and tongue jutted out to catch any drops of semen that hadn’t shot past his lips and onto his face. He liked watching Wooyoung lick him clean like the good boy he was. It was filthy and wildly arousing, but now all San could think of was how Wooyoung pushed himself every time to ignore the taste coating his mouth. Leaning forward to rest his head on his hands, San let out a sound somewhere between disbelief and humiliation.
“What do you mean the taste?” He mumbled. He could feel Wooyoung staring at his back.
“Sannie, really please don’t beat yourself up about it,” Wooyoung groans a little. This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. Yes, his boyfriend’s cum tasted like complete ass (not the good kind), but he didn’t want a pouty San stomping around the house over this miniscule fact. This whole conversation wouldn’t have had to happen if San had just drank the damn smoothie. “It’s still bearable–”
“BEARABLE?” San wails again. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Thanks, Young-ah, that makes me feel so much better.”
Wooyoung laughs, holding onto San’s shoulder realizing his poor choice of words. Perhaps some part of San’s ego truly is wounded by the fact that his cum doesn’t taste like caramel, but his insecurity seems lighthearted enough that their whole argument could be deemed a non-issue. That’s how they were: sincere but never too serious. The blonde turned his head to see Wooyoung still giggling next to him.
“It’s not funny!” San playfully wined, nudging his boyfriend off of the safe hiding behind him.
“Okay, okay,” Wooyoung breathed in. “You’re right, it’s not–” He tucked his lips into his teeth and looked away, trying desperately to hold in the laugh threatening to erupt from him. San was so cute when he was like this. His offense was like a child’s, playful and unfiltered.
“Fine.” With one fluid motion, San reached for the lukewarm smoothie that had been scornfully sitting in front of them. Wooyoung watched San’s throat bob up and down rhythmically as he chugged the drink in one go. It was the weirdest act of love, but its weight seemed on par with a romantic date night. San committed and didn’t look back. He winced, finishing off the last of the smoothie. God, he hated vegetables. How could something be good for you if it tasted foul? His concern for his boyfriend’s pleasure surpassed any qualms he had with those stupid plants.
San shot Wooyoung a stubborn smile as if to say, Happy now? He pulled them both backwards, letting Wooyoung rest on his chest like he had been wanting this whole evening. Nuzzling into his neck, San could feel the smile grow on Wooyoung’s face. Maybe he wouldn’t fully commit to drinking a green smoothie every night, or finishing his vegetables every meal, but at least Wooyoung knew that he cared. They laid on each other, heartbeats syncing up periodically as the night went on. Just before Wooyoung attempted to climb off his boyfriend’s lap, San tugged the back of his shirt with puppy eyes and a small pout. This was his way of asking for a kiss. Wooyoung obliged, kissing him slowly and softly. He tried to break their kiss before it became messy. It was far too easy for them to get lost in each other, and once they did there was no going back. Teasingly, and surprisingly, San was the first to pull away.
“You know,” he whispered into the heat of Wooyoung’s mouth with a sly grin, “it’s not like yours tastes any better.”
Oh, this motherfucker.