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The first sign that Wooyoung is spiraling isn’t him picking a fight. He loves to tease and bicker and laugh at everyone’s misfortunes. He’s also fiercely protective, ready to throw a glare or a few choice words at anyone who tries it with his members. So, Yeosang is never worried when Wooyoung picks fights. Occasionally, Wooyoung goes too far and someone has to step in, but it’s never that hard to wring an apology out of him—even when he’s in a terrible mood.
The first sign that Wooyoung is spiraling is silence. And just like his teasing or his smiles, Wooyoung has lots of different kinds of silences. Yeosang knows them all. He knows when Wooyoung is silent and overthinking, when he’s quiet and stewing, when he feels cold or distant—and whether or not he needs to be pulled back in or given his space.
But his stubborn silences are especially bad and especially rare. Yeosang has named them as such because they aren’t like his cold shoulders, or his overthinking, or any other kind of silence that might cue the group to his impending mood drop. No, a stubborn silence is when Wooyoung wants all of them to read his mind. When he refuses to tell them what he needs, and if he does he doesn’t want it anymore. These are the silences that have caused the biggest fights, the most tears, and these are the silences that only Yeosang can ever help him with.
And at the end of a long week of dense schedules and one too many judgemental silences, Yeosang sees the writing on the wall. He always does with Wooyoung, but he isn’t a superhero. Seeing the cliff isn’t always enough to keep his best friend from running over the edge.
Yeosang is in the living room when it happens. He’s about to turn off his phone and go find someone, anyone. He’s needy for something he can’t quite name, but he thinks a kiss from any of his lovers might help set his thoughts in order. Then, he hears a yelp and a bang and he’s on his feet, tearing off down the hall toward the noise.
He reaches the door just as Wooyoung careens out of it, half naked with mussed hair and a scowl pinned to his face. Yeosang catches him around the waist, sucking him in tight to his side and for the moment, ignoring his struggles. They’re pathetic anyway, not even a sharp elbow to his gut or a smack upside his head, just the tender twist of Wooyoung’s lithe body.
He steps forward to peer into the room and finds San with his hands over his face, in a similar state of undress. “Sannie,” Yeosang calls, eyes roving over the room, trying to put the pieces together fast enough to fix whatever happened—all while Wooyoung’s squirming gets more insistent. When his lover uncovers his face and pins Yeosang with big, watery eyes, it’s fairly easy to guess what might have happened.
Yeosang’s heart twinges. He wants to go to him, but his arms are full, and he knows Wooyoung isn’t ready to kiss and make up yet. He weighs his options, before sighing. “Seonghwa!” he calls. He’s loud, loud enough to make San and Wooyoung flinch.
A moment later their hyung appears from his room, dressed down and looking soft and sweet. Yeosang wants to kiss him, but he resists, digging his fingers a bit harder into Wooyoung’s side as he nods into San’s room. Seonghwa steps inside, and catching San’s distress, goes straight to his side.
Yeosang maneuvers Wooyoung away before he can see, and drags him into their room. He shuts the door and presses Wooyoung back against it, uncurling his arm from his waist to spread a hand across his chest instead. He can feel the rabbit quick beat of his heart, and the heat that radiates from beneath the t-shirt he pulled on in a rush. Wooyoung’s scowl has softened, but he’s silent. Staring at Yeosang and waiting. If anyone else were to look at his boyfriend in this moment, Yeosang knows they’d think it’s a challenge. But to him, Wooyuong just looks desperate.
In this moment, he needs what he gives everyone else. The knowledge of their bodies, their wants, the intuitive way he pushes and pulls with them, his overcommunication—it’s easy for all of them to forget that they all have Wooyoung, but he doesn’t have a Wooyoung of his own.
Yeosang tilts his head and presses a knee between Wooyoung’s legs, testing the waters. He knows if he asks, Wooyoung will just shove him off and leave again. He’ll go cry himself out or rage until he can apologize to San, but he’ll just be treating the symptoms. It’s only Yeosang that can get at the heart of the issue, that can get beneath Wooyoung’s skin in the exact way that he craves without having to ask him anything..
“Your shirt is on inside out,” Yeosang murmurs.
Wooyoung frowns. He sucks in a ragged breath, sternum shifting beneath Yeosang’s palm.
He fists his hand in the fabric at the same time he jerks his knee up higher. Wooyoung’s face crumples, hands lifting from his sides. He isn’t wearing anything beneath the oversized shirt. And he’s still hard. But his face smooths out a moment later, dark eyes flashing where he looks at Yeosang from beneath his lashes.
Yeosang inhales. He has an idea of what Wooyoung wants now. It’s one of the many games that they play together, one that Yeosang has to feel out blindly each time. If he didn’t know Wooyoung better than he knew himself, he’d never be able to play. He thinks about asking him for his safe word, but decides against it. Wooyoung knows it. And his stare is bordering on venomous, desperate for Yeosang to know what he needs, to dig all of his discomfort out and fill him with something better.
He lifts his knee higher, forcing Wooyoung onto his toes, almost bringing a noise up out of him as his hands lift again. This time, they almost make it to Yeosang’s shoulders before he speaks. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he snaps. His tone is still a bit too soft, the role not fully in place, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Wooyoung.
He’s too busy melting, hands falling back to press against the door, body slumping until most of his weight is on Yeosang’s thigh. His head tilts to the side, exposing the tan stretch of his neck as his face relaxes—his desperation losing that venomous edge now that Yeosang has found what he needs. “There you are,” Yeosang breathes, stunned as he watches all the weight fall from Wooyoung’s shoulders, as he finally lets himself enjoy something after their stressful week.
Wooyoung gives a half hearted whine, hips jumping forward to grind across Yeosang’s thigh. He jerks his knee up higher, until Wooyoung is whimpering in earnest, rocking against Yeosang and trying to find a position where his balls aren’t aching. He ignores the pained twist of Wooyoung’s body and the rattle of his chest, instead grabbing the edge of Wooyoung’s shirt to lift it into his mouth. “Open,” Yeosang says.
Wooyoung looks down his nose at him, head still tilted back against the door. Yeosang watches as he shifts from thinking, to deciding, that shine in his eyes brightening as he keeps his mouth pinned shut. He doesn’t flinch at the disobedience. He never does. A small smile graces his lips as his other hand shoots up, knocking Wooyoung’s head back against the door as he pinches his nose shut. Wooyoung twists, fire lighting up his eyes, defiance taking on a new vicious edge. He isn’t strong enough to dislodge Yeosang, and they both know it, but he lets Wooyoung play. Resisting and resisting until Wooyoung gasps for breath and Yeosang jams the hem of his shirt past his teeth. Still breathing heavily, Wooyoung closes his mouth around the fabric, eyes fluttering when Yeosang smirks and runs a hand down his exposed chest.
Praise surges against the back of his teeth but Yeosang swallows it down. Not yet. Wooyoung needs to earn it. So Yeosang presses his hand at the base of Wooyoung’s spine, absorbing the sweet heat of his skin as he murmurs, “You made Sannie cry.”
Wooyoung’s face crumbles again, but with the gag between his teeth, he can’t protest, he can’t even whine as Yeosang drags a considering eye across his body. He runs through a few scenarios as his hands stroke across Wooyoung’s body. He shudders and twists beneath the attention, and Yeosang pinches his hip to settle him. That knocks a truly pathetic noise out of Wooyoung, his cock jerking and dripping. Yeosang hums a considering noise. He can work with that.
He scratches the outside of Wooyoung’s thigh and then pulls back. He sags against the door like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes wide and dazed as he wobbles on unsure legs. Yeosang crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow. This is the last choice that Wooyoung will make and the dreamy haze fades from his eyes as it realizes that. The bed is waiting for him. The door is behind him. Yeosang stands, patient and stoic.
Wooyoung makes his choice. He drops the hem of his shirt from his mouth, damp with his spit, and then yanks it over his head. Yeosang’s fingers flex on his biceps at the sight of Wooyoung’s body, tan and taut and waiting to be wrecked. He makes a far off note to feed him better this next week as Wooyoung crawls onto the bed and leans back on his elbows. He tilts his head at Yeosang, the line of his mouth going crooked and taunting as he spreads his legs. The challenge doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Yeosang shakes his head as he draws toward the bed.
Wooyoung needs pain. That much is clear. But Yeosang needs to give him more than that, he needs to give Wooyoung what he can so rarely get from anyone else. The plan crystallizes in his mind and he rounds the bed to grab his bottle of unflavored lube. He glances at the clock on his nightstand and figures a half hour should be enough to unravel Wooyoung.
He kneels between his spread legs and pulls his thighs over his knees, keeping Wooyoung spread out over his lap. “Stay,” he says. “You don’t need to count, but you can’t come until I say so.” He doesn’t give Wooyoung a moment to process the words before his hand comes down hard on the inside of his thigh. Wooyoung’s entire body jolts, a strangled noise spilling out of his mouth as his head tips back. Yeosang doesn’t want to praise him anymore, the haze of proper dominance has settled around him, turning him cold and sadistic and exactly what Wooyoung needs.
That much is evident when the livid hand print settles into his skin, red at the edges and pale in the center, and Wooyoung melts. He pants at the ceiling, hands laying above his head with his fingers laced together, the perfect picture of obedience. Something sick twists in Yeosang, something possessive and dark—knowing that he’s the only one that can give Wooyoung this, that can make Wooyoung shuck his brattiness and give into his submission instead. He gives him another smack on the opposite thigh, claiming Wooyoung with these welts in the shape of his hand.
His cock is already dripping a puddle onto his belly and Yeosang is pierced with desire. Palm still tingling, he grabs the bottle of lube and squeezes it into his hand. He doesn’t bother to warm it before grabbing Wooyoung’s cock. He jerks at the feeling, another threadbare moan spilling out of him as his knee knocks against Yeosang’s rib cage.
“Stay still,” he snaps, flicking the livid center of the handprint on Wooyoung’s thigh. This time his moan goes watery, but he melts back down into the mattress a moment later. He flashes his wide, sweet eyes at Yeosang, but the sight only worsens that twist of darkness inside of him. He tightens his grip on Wooyoung’s cock, giving him tight, long strokes that have his belly tightening and wobbling moans winding out of his throat. He pauses on the upstroke, cupping his hand around the tip and grinding hard against it.
Wooyoung trembles all over, gasping and ripping at the sheets, but keeping his legs perfectly still. Pride swells in Yeosang, but it isn’t enough to keep him from laying into him again. He doesn’t hit Wooyoung quite as hard this time, but he lets his fingers overlap with the last welt, mixing softer burning pain with a sharper sting. Wooyoung bucks hard into his hand and Yeosang drags his fist down to the base, giving him quick pulsing strokes as he smooths his thumb over his burning skin.
The squelch of lube in his fist is filthy. It drips down Wooyoung’s shaft and slicks through his pubic hair, making his skin shine. Yeosang drags his hand away from the throbbing skin of his thigh to cup his balls instead, lips pursing at how tight and hot they are in his palm. He slides his thumb across the velvet skin, spreading even more of the sticky lube until everything is hot and slick beneath his touch.
He drags his hand back up, twisting around the center of Wooyoung’s shaft and then thumbing sweetly beneath the head. Wooyoung doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to, his body tells Yeosang everything he needs to know. His belly tightens, his breath hitches, his cock pulses, a fresh drip of pre-cum rolls down his shaft—and Yeosang pulls his hands away. He grips the insides of Wooyoung’s thighs, holding him in place as he thrashes through his stolen orgasm.
He lifts his head for the first time in minutes, pinning Yeosang with a dark, mean look. His mouth only tilts into a half smile as he lifts his hand to smack him again. Every drop of ire melts off Wooyoung’s face. His cock jerks again, his thighs tremble beneath Yeosang’s hands, and his head falls back to the mattress, once again waiting for whatever Yeosang decides to give him.
He settles his hand back around Wooyoung’s cock, spreading his pre-cum all over his shaft until the slide is glossy and easy. He hits Wooyoung again, and again, and again, spreading these softer smacks up and down both of his thighs, until his handprints have faded into a haze of cherry red, swollen skin. It’s easier to bring Wooyoung to the edge this time. With the fresh pain throbbing through him and a few sloppy jerks of his cock, his breath is hitching again and his face swings down toward Yeosang, silently pleading.
Yeosang only grins as he pulls his hand away from Wooyoung’s cock, edging him again. For all his pleading, Wooyoung doesn’t fight this one. His eyes fall shut as he whimpers, bottom lip trembling as the shudders work through him. “Sangie…” he murmurs, another full body shiver wracking him when Yeosang pets over his thighs.
“Feels good?” Yeosang asks. Wooyoung doesn’t respond, but he isn’t really expecting him to. He’s already floating, kicked out of his body by the endorphin rush, by Yeosang taking control so easily, by giving him the punishment he so obviously needs. He glances at the clock. Their thirty minutes is winding down, but Yeosang thinks he can get one more out of him.
He spills more lube onto his fingers and reaches down between Wooyoung’s legs. He rubs at his hole, warming him up for the touch until he can sink a finger inside of him. Wooyoung whimpers at the first press, clenching hard before he relaxes for Yeosang. His cock throbs at the feeling, making a mess of his briefs as he fights the urge to split him open as fast as possible. He clings to his patience and Wooyoung opens for him, slick and hot and perfect, cock dripping onto his belly as he pants.
Yeosang’s other hand slides along the insides of his thighs, testing his soft skin, feeling the edges of the raised welts left by his fingers. There’s a kind of mania creeping up in him, a devilish desire to hurt Wooyoung more, to pull him apart to his barest pieces just to be able to put him back together. But, they aren’t on vacation. Outside this room, life goes on, and if Yeosang keeps going Wooyoung will be too bruised to even put on skinny jeans.
He swallows down that desperate mania and settles his hand on Wooyoung’s hip, holding him down against the mattress as he presses a second finger into him. He takes it perfectly, whining and clenching around Yeosang’s fingers until he can melt around them. It’s easy to hook his fingers into Wooyoung’s prostate. He presses hard into the gland, nearly biting his tongue in half when Wooyoung wails with pleasure. Yeosang doesn’t let up, not even when he starts trembling and his breath keeps hitching. Instead, he wiggles a third finger into him and clamps his hand around the base of Wooyoung’s cock, forcing his body into a vicious tug of war that he has no way to win.
Wooyoung cries out. He thrashes hard, almost twisting onto his belly before Yeosang digs his elbow into his thigh. Yeosang’s eyes flick to the clock. Their half hour is over. He starts to draw his fingers out, only for Wooyoung’s hand to snap down around his wrist. “Please, please, Sangie—more, I can take it.” Tears well in his eyes and then drip down his cheeks, leaving silvery trails that Yeosang wants to taste. “Need it,” he murmurs, eyebrows pinching together like he’s worried Yeosang might deny him.
He doesn’t. If Wooyoung is finally asking for what he needs, then Yeosang has done his job. He shakes off Wooyoung’s grip and presses his fingers back into him, letting go of his cock to grab the back of his knee and force his legs wide again. “Tell me,” he hisses out, gritting his teeth around his control as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of Wooyoung. “I want to hear when you’re about to come.”
Wooyoung whimpers. His hands fall back over his head, fingers tangling together as he peers at Yeosang with those big, watery eyes of his. Yeosang’s nails dig into his skin as he only barely keeps himself from cupping his cock through his pants. Nothing gets him off like Wooyoung being pathetic and wrecked for him. He pauses the rough thrusts of his fingers to grind deep inside him, dragging them out until he can massage against his prostate.
Wooyoung seizes all over. “Oh, oh, oh!” he gasps, back arching as his toes curl. Yeosang doesn’t pull back yet. Sweat beads at his brow, he feels half strangled by his t-shirt, but he keeps his focus pinned on Wooyoung. He gets louder. Surely, the entire dorm can hear him, surely all their lovers know what Yeosang is doing to him, and pleasure lances through him at the thought. “Ah—Yeosang!” Wooyoung turns his name into a curse, a filthy hot plea that Yeosang wants to chase.
“Hold it,” he snaps, even while he tortures Wooyoung with another tight twist of his fingertips over his prostate.
Wooyoung wails. “Can’t, can’t, I’m gonna come!” Yeosang ignores him. He fucks harder into him. He waits. Wooyoung breaks fast. For all his brattiness, he hates disappointing Yeosang. “Can’t, Sangie, please—stop, stop— hyung! ”
Yeosang groans as he yanks his fingers out of Wooyoung. He clamps them around the base of his cock instead, pulling him unceremoniously off the edge as a new wave of tears bursts out of him. He lets go of Wooyoung’s thigh to slide a hand up over his chest, rubbing through his sheen of sweat and settling right over his heart. It pounds beneath his palm and Yeosang’s pride bursts into white hot adoration.
“Hyung, hyung,” Wooyoung babbles, gaze hazy, arms still above his head.
Yeosang ducks close to him, letting go of his cock to settle at his hip instead. He’s careful not to brush against him as he kisses the point of his chin. Even without Yeosang’s hands on him, he knows that Wooyoung’s on the cliff’s edge. “You did good, baby,” he murmurs, kissing along the edge of his jaw until Wooyoung twists into a kiss.
It’s sloppy. Wooyoung can’t catch his breath. Fresh tears are dripping into Yeosang’s mouth and he’s so hard he can barely think straight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whispers, finally letting his hands come down to settle on Yeosang’s shoulders.
“I know, sweetness, I know,” he says, cupping Wooyoung’s cheek and sliding his thumb beneath his eye. “But, it’s okay now, you took your punishment. What happens after punishments?”
Wooyoung makes a miserable noise, but still responds. “Hyung forgives me.”
Yeosang kisses him again, he can’t help it, not when Wooyoung is still pouting and his mouth is wrapping around such filthy words. Or maybe they’re just filthy to Yeosang. He licks the back of Wooyoung’s teeth and slides his hand across his chest, before Wooyoung is pulling away again. “B-but, Sannie, Sannie might not forgive me,” he mumbles, sounding completely despondent.
Yeosang clicks his tongue. He knows he needs to cut into this before Wooyoung spirals to avoid a drop. “Stop that,” he says, letting some steel run through his voice. “You don’t need to be thinking about that right now.” He shifts until he can press the clothed bulge of his cock into the back of Wooyoung’s thigh. “You need to be thinking about how you’re going to be useful for me, hm?”
Wooyoung lets out a ragged breath. Yeosang chases it with another kiss, licking the last of his worries out of his mouth until he’s back to squirming and clinging to Yeosang. He pulls away and tugs his shirt over his head as he sits back on his heels. “So?” he asks, tilting his head when Wooyoung just blinks up at him. It’s a bit mean to make him choose when he’s this deep, but he needs something else to focus on, something other than how he hurt San’s feelings.
Wooyoung’s eyes drag down his body and his cock jerks against his belly. “Can I… can I ride you, hyung?” he whispers, voice apparently wrecked with want.
Yeosang’s cock throbs and it takes concerted effort to disguise how bad he wants it as he tugs off his pants and briefs. He grabs the bottle of lube and sits back against the pillows, casting a sideways glance at Wooyoung when he doesn’t move. “C’mon, baby,” he says, and Wooyoung rises up onto his knees. His thighs are trembling and cherry red, hot where they press against Yeosang’s hips. He hesitates for a moment, and then braces himself against Yeosang’s chest, palms sweaty against his warm skin.
Wooyoung looks wrecked. His hair is damp and falling into his face, eyes hazy and out of focus as Yeosang opens the lube and squirts some onto his cock. It’s too much. They’re going to be filthy by the end of this, but he doesn’t entertain the thought for long as he angles his length between Wooyoung’s legs. “Sit on me, sweetness.”
Wooyoung’s face crumples and Yeosang drinks up his pleasure, his submission, feeding on it like he needs it to live, as his wet hole catches on the tip of his cock. He doesn’t tease. Yeosang told him to make himself useful, and he’s sure that his words are still circling around in Wooyoung’s head as he sinks down onto his cock. “Hyung,” he whimpers, hands sliding up Yeosang’s chest to settle on his shoulders instead. He hums in response, eyes dropping from Wooyoung’s flushed face to where he’s taking his cock.
It’s gorgeous. There’s lube everywhere, making their skin shine as Wooyoung rocks down onto Yeosang’s length. He takes it easily, sometimes pushing a bit too fast and clenching hard around Yeosang before he can keep going. Yeosang grits his teeth through it, surprised by the sheer depth of pleasure he feels at the first squeeze of Wooyoung’s hole around him. He reaches down and grips Wooyoung’s thighs, thumbs pressing into his tender spots as he shudders and takes Yeosang all the way inside. Wooyoung’s cock is hard and dark where it lays in the crease of his thigh, steadily dribbling as he tries to get used to the press of Yeosang inside of him. He has the delirious thought to touch Wooyoung’s pretty little cock, to make him come once like this, force it out of him and then still make him ride until his legs give out.
Yeosang closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe, pushing through the hysterical pleasure that surges up his throat and wraps around his nerves. Spots swarm the darkness behind his eyelids and when he opens his eyes again, he looks at Wooyoung's face instead. His face is darkening with a flush, bottom lip worried into a bruise as desire threatens to consume him. He’s shivering and panting, nails biting into Yeosang’s shoulders as his hole spasms around his cock. He still hasn’t moved and Yeosang’s cock throbs inside of him. Yeosang doesn’t hurry him, not even when he feels like crawling out of his skin with animal want. This isn’t for him. This is for Wooyoung to work out the last of his energy to float out of subspace sweetly and easily.
Finally, Wooyoung moves. It’s just a sloppy swivel of his hips, but Yeosang has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning. He feels strung out on pleasure, and he clings to his sanity as Wooyoung lifts himself up onto his knees in a proper bounce. It’s slick and sloppy, lube stretching in strings between their bodies, those awful squelching noises filling the room—but Yeosang loves it. Wooyoung does too. He can tell from the way his cock drips onto his hip, how his balls are tight against his body, still smeared with drying lube.
Wooyoung is a mess. He can’t keep up a consistent rhythm. His reddened thighs are trembling, flinching away from Yeosang’s hips every time he clenches around them. Sweat drips in rivers down his chest and he isn’t even properly riding him. That same beastly thing inside of Yeosang is rearing its head, sickeningly pleased by Wooyoung’s desperate attempts to please him.
His rhythm falters again, hole clamping hard around Yeosang’s cock. He relaxes, spine melting, head tipping forward into Yeosang’s throat. “‘M sorry, hyung, can’t I can’t,” he murmurs.
Yeosang hums. “Keep trying, baby, I’m not satisfied yet.”
He waits. Wooyoung snuffles into his neck, hands flexing on Yeosang’s shoulders. But, he rises to the challenge. He doesn’t say his safe word, he doesn’t pull off Yeosang’s cock. He stays ducked close to his body, arms wrapping the back of his neck as he starts to bounce again. His hole is hot and sweet around Yeosang’s cock, no longer clamping around him like he’s afraid he’ll slip out. It’s all the sweeter knowing Yeosang has stretched him out, molded him to his length with each sloppy grind of his hips.
Wooyoung keeps panting and moaning into his neck, mouthing these wet little kisses into his skin until Yeosang is consumed by chills. His desire mounts. It takes on a shape of its own, filling out the space beneath his skin until he feels like he’s about to burst. Wooyoung’s mouth is still against his skin and his cunt is so loose around him, still dripping lube and fluttering weakly around him whenever he takes him all the way inside.
Yeosang doesn’t think. He pushes Wooyoung back and follows him down onto the mattress, bracing one elbow beside his head while grabbing his leg and hitching it up over his waist. He drives into him hard and fast, making Wooyoung shift across the bed with every thrust. “Good boy, Youngie, you were very good for me,” he hisses, color crowding his vision, the column of his spine burning with pleasure.
Wooyoung sobs beneath him, head snapping back as his mouth tries to wrap around what he means to say. Nothing passes his lips before he’s coming, spurting hot and wet between their bellies with a truly pathetic noise. Yeosang kisses him, refusing to give him a single moment to worry if he broke a rule, keeping his pace steady and hard even when Wooyoung’s hole tries to clench around him. “There you are, darling, so pretty for me,” he says, licking across his parted lips.
“Thank you, thank you,” Wooyoung chants in response, catching him in another messy kiss that has sparks zipping across Yeosang’s skin.
He digs his teeth into Wooyoung’s lip and pulls away. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says. His mouth stretches into a grin and he can feel that it’s crooked, his eyes wild as he shifts to grab Wooyoung’s cock. He’s soft, still wet with cum, and he seizes when Yeosang rubs his fingers against the hot tip. “I want you to come for me again, baby.”
Wooyoung shakes his head, he squirms underneath Yeosang, letting out a weak, cracked moan that shoots straight to his cock. “Can’t, Sangie, hurts—”
Yeosang coos, he kisses the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth. “You like it when it hurts, baby, don’t pretend like you don’t.” He pauses his fast and deep thrusts to grind into Wooyoung instead, dragging his length across Wooyoung’s prostate until he’s crying and panting into Yeosang’s mouth.
“Hyung,” he murmurs, desperation is thick in his voice and Yeosang squeezes his cock. “Gentle, please.” He sounds strung out, floaty, like he can barely put the words together in the right order, and it’s a miracle Yeosang doesn’t come right then. “I can… I will, but ‘m tender.”
“Fuck,” Yeosang mutters. He slows the grind of his hips, pushing deep and easy into him instead of trying to force it as far as possible. He loosens his grip on Wooyoung’s half hard cock, sliding his thumb along the underside as he drags his mouth along the edge of Wooyoung’s jaw. “Alright, baby, alright, hyung will be gentle.” He kisses down the side of Wooyoung’s throat, spreading his knees across the sheets to have more control over his slow thrusts into Wooyoung. He feels swollen around Yeosang’s cock, fucked loose and still trying to cling to his shaft. He scrapes his teeth over Wooyoung’s throat, mitigating some of the rolling desperation beneath his skin.
Wooyoung whines for it, his hands slipping across Yeosang’s broad sweaty back, sweet, tangled whines spilling from his mouth as Yeosang draws his thumb over the head of his cock again. He doesn’t complain this time. He mumbles Yeosang’s name and tilts his hips up into the delicious drag of his cock, dripping sweet and sticky between their bellies. Yeosang grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, shoving his orgasm back as Wooyoung gets closer and closer. “Give it to me,” he murmurs, not quite able to remove the vicious undercurrent of need from his words. “Come on my cock.”
Wooyoung listens. He clenches hard, tilts his head back and screams, his entire body trembles as he comes, that pretty little cock barely managing a few drops of wetness. That’s all Yeosang needs. He sinks his teeth into Wooyoung’s tanned, sweaty skin and slams into him, giving him three more mean thrusts before he follows him over the edge. He comes so hard his vision melts into static darkness, tongue lapping at Wooyoung’s throat as he catches his breath.
He leans back from Wooyoung, sliding his hands down his still shivering body as he slowly pulls out. “Good boy,” he murmurs, taking Wooyoung in from his mussed hair to where his gaping hole is leaking Yeosang’s seed. “You were wonderful, baby. Thank you.”
Wooyoung stares up at him. And then his face crumples. He covers his face with his hands as he sobs, the wave of emotion hitting him now that his mind is finally back in order. Yeosang doesn’t try to pull his hands away from his face. He lays gentle kisses into his knuckles and spills every bit of praise that he held back for the entire scene, promising him that he’s perfect, beautiful, always so obedient. “Thank you for letting me take care of you,” he whispers, but Wooyoung shakes his head. He’s crying too hard to deny any further, and Yeosang doesn’t push.
He slides off the bed and gathers Wooyoung into his arms, holding him tight as he carries him into their adjacent bathroom. He holds him with one arm as he turns on the shower, and keeps a steadying hold on his waist as Wooyoung gets his feet under him. Yeosang lets him hog the water as he reaches for his own shampoo. He lathers it up in his hands and starts working it through Wooyoung’s hair. At the familiar scent, he drops his hands and spins, burying his face in Yeosang’s chest.
He walks them forward, making sure the water is still hitting Wooyoung’s back as he cleans all the sweat out of his hair. When he tilts Wooyoung’s head back to rinse out the suds, his face is soft and open, flushed and swollen from crying. Yeosang kisses him, closed mouthed and tender, and catches the soap before it can run into his eyes.
He reaches for his body wash next. Yeosang realizes he forgot to grab a fresh washcloth before stepping beneath the spray, and with how Wooyoung is clinging to him, he knows he won’t be able to now. He resolves to have Wooyoung take another shower before bed, and lathers the soap in his palms. He runs his hands across Wooyoung’s shoulders first, scrubbing and then rubbing into his tense muscles. With each touch, Wooyoung whimpers into his chest, and Yeosang can’t imagine how long he’s needed a massage if he’s this sensitive.
He takes his time. The sound of the water pattering against tile fills the space between them as he continues to wash Wooyoung, pausing only to lather more soap between his palms. He massages Wooyoung’s arms, slips his fingers into the spaces between his, washes the lube and cum off his belly, before folding down to his knees. Wooyoung’s fingers tangle in his damp hair as Yeosang starts to wash his thighs. He examines Wooyoung as he goes. There are a few spots of bruising on each of his legs, but he should be able to walk and dance without issue tomorrow. Yeosang presses apologetic kisses into the most tender spots as he washes Wooyoung’s legs and feet.
“I need to clean you out,” he says, head on Wooyoung’s thigh, mouth moving against his hip.
Wooyoung strokes his thumb along the back of Yeosang’s skull. “Okay,” he says. He isn’t crying anymore, he’s managed at least one word—both good signs.
Yeosang smiles and lifts a hand between Wooyoung’s legs. He’s quick and efficient, fingering lube and cum out of Wooyoung until he’s squirming with discomfort. “All done, all done,” he says, sliding a soapy hand between his legs to clean the rest of the mess. It’s only half a lie. Wooyoung will definitely want to take another shower before bed.
He rinses his hands beneath the spray of water and then reaches for Wooyoung’s facial cleanser. He usually prefers to do it at the sink, but Yeosang isn’t quite ready to let him out of the haze of hot water and steam. He pumps the soap into his palms, works it into a foam, and starts rubbing it into Wooyoung’s cheeks. He closes his eyes as Yeosang works, making sure to hit every surface of his face, and gently scrub until his face feels smooth and clean beneath his fingers.
“I hurt San’s feelings,” Wooyoung finally says. Yeosang keeps up the gentle swirl of his fingers on Wooyoung’s cheeks, waiting for him to continue. “I really needed… I don’t know. This, I guess,” he says. His words take on a soft, miserable bend and Yeosang’s heart squeezes. “Didn’t want to bother you. I was already with San, and then we were naked, and it was almost good but he just kept being so sweet…”
Yeosang hushes him then. San is always sweet, always needing praise, to hear what to do next, and Wooyoung usually loves it. But not after a long week like this. Yeosang turns them slightly and starts rinsing the foam from Wooyoung’s face. The spray of hot water seems to soothe him and when Yeosang wipes the water out of his eyes, he blinks up at him with the sweetest gaze he’s ever seen on him. “You’re never a bother, Wooyoung-yah.”
He blinks. There are crystalline water droplets on his eyelashes and his dark hair is slicked back from his face and Yeosang is struck for the millionth time just how desperately he loves this man. “I need to apologize to him,” Wooyoung settles on, and for once, Yeosang lets him dodge away from his adoration.
He hums in agreement, before reaching for his shampoo. Wooyoung steals it out of his hand and repeats the earlier process for Yeosang. He washes his hair thoroughly, steals kisses as he washes his body, giggles whenever Yeosang closes his eyes against the water and misses his lips by an inch or more. This is always when Wooyoung comes back to himself. Getting taken care of carrying him out of the initial crash, but feeling useful is always what brings him back to himself.
He finishes cleaning the suds from Yeosang’s face and ducks close to kiss him again. “I love you,” he whispers against his mouth. Yeosang’s arms go around him, thumbs framing the line of his spine. “Thank you for this.”
“I love you too,” Yeosang says. He pulls back far enough to stare into Wooyoung’s face. “And I don’t need a thank you. You know I like it just as much as you do.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes as Yeosang reaches back to turn off the water.
They towel off in the steamy bathroom before stepping back into their room. And there San is, sitting on the edge of their freshly made bed, wringing his hands with worry. Yeosang’s chest clenches at the thought of San changing their messy bedding for them.
He looks up at them with his big, sweet eyes and Wooyoung goes to him immediately. Yeosang turns to his closet as Wooyoung climbs into his lap. They have a soft, urgent conversation, ending with quick kisses and soft adorations. Yeosang’s heart warms at the sound of it, at the sound of no further tears being spilled.
He pulls on a pair of briefs and a tank, before grabbing something for Wooyoung. He sets them on the bed and then slides his hand over the back of San’s head. He tilts his head back to him, pursing his lips until Yeosang kisses him. “Did Seonghwa-hyung take good care of you?”
San blushes and nods. Wooyoung immediately starts needling him for details as Yeosang slides into bed. “Enough, baby,” he says, and Wooyoung immediately falling silent is a testament to how well Yeosang worked him over. “San, darling, will you put some cream on his thighs and get him dressed?” Yeosang could easily do it himself, but he has a feeling San needs it more than him. He watches through half open eyes as San nods and lays Wooyoung out beside him, pulling the towel from around his waist.Wooyoung reaches out and laces their fingers together as Yeosang starts to doze, and San takes care of him.
Yeosang isn’t always able to stop Wooyoung from running off the cliff, but at least he’s always there to cushion his landing.