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It was starting to irritate San how loud the mall food court was getting, he threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He groaned to himself as he waited for Seonghwa to come back from the bathroom.
They had been in america for about a week now, which san usually loved, but now it was starting to get to him that he couldn’t see anyone but seonghwa. It didn’t help that he had left in the first place to be away from work but now he just felt oddly anxious, dealing with the weight of his current predicament without the comfort of his own bed at the end of the day was messing with his head.
Seonghwa decided to come with san because he needed “something to do” despite the fact they spent the whole time doing literally nothing and eating burgers.
Now they were at a mall, for the 4th time this week, in the shitty food court which really needed revamping.
Their conversation had now gotten to an uncomfortable topic.
A few minutes ago.
“So.. you think you’re gay?”
San leans forward, pointing at himself as he keeps up a secretive tone, despite having no need to do so. “I didn’t say gay i said.. like.. i like both.” He shrugs.
“Okay so you think you’re gay.”
“This is serious i’m not joking.”
Seonghwa stabbed his forked into a small peice of chicken on his plate, nodding. “Right.. ‘this is serious’ gotcha. Gay is gay, you like guys now, as well as girls.”
San nods, sitting back slightly, now pleased with seonghwa’s tone change. At this point he’s accepted this is probably the most seriousness he will get out of him.
“So what exactly are you telling me this for?” Seonghwa asks.
“Cause i don’t know what to do about it.” San groans.
Seonghwa sits there, staring at him. He sighs. “I’ll be right back, i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
•
San is anxiously tapping his foot against the floor when seonghwa finally returns. Sans eyes fly up, looking at him as he sits back down in front of him, resuming his eating.
Seonghwa looks up from his plate, raising an eyebrow. “So, what exactly do you mean by ‘i don’t know what to do about it’ there’s nothing you ‘do’ you’re just interested in both now.” Seonghwa says, it seems as though he spent his time in the bathroom pondering what to say with how fast he spat that out. San almost starts speaking before being cut off. “i mean.. do you like anyone?”
A loud slapping sound practically echos as san puts his face in his hands, seonghwa stops chewing, looking at him. San was really hoping that question wouldn’t come up. So much so, he prayed, which he never does.
He slowly leans his head up from his hands, nodding.
“Based off of the way you’re handling this i’m gonna say it’s someone i know.”
San closes his eyes shamefully as he slowly nods.
Seonghwa, who’s still chewing on a bite of chicken, covers his mouth, attempting and failing to not laugh. He now has this mischievous look in his eyes as he gears up to start guessing. He sits himself up proper, moving his plate to the side and intertwining his fingers together. He narrows his eyes at san.
“So how well do i know him?”
“Stop i’m not doing this.”
“Yes you are, how well do i know him.”
San groans, shrugging. He reluctantly answers. “pretty damn well.”
“wooyoung.”
Sans jaw drops, almost comically. Seonghwa’s face lights up as he realizes he was right.
“How?” Sans hands cover his face again, similar to earlier. “oh my god..” Was it really that obvious? Penis penis penis.
“you’re being so dramatic.” He says, pulling his plate back in front of him and taking a bite of chicken.
“it’s not like i’m gonna judge you.” Seonghwa says as he chews his food, covering his mouth.
San looks up from his hands, clasping them together. “I know you won’t but i- i don’t know i’m not even 100% able to except this yet.. how the hell could you tell?”
“it was really just statistics.”
San raises an eyebrow.
“You’re really only close with Hongjoong, Yunho, Wooyoung, Jongho, Mingi, Yeosang, and me.”
“but it could have been any of them?” San says.
“well it wouldn’t have been hongjoong.. and-“
“why wouldn’t it have been hongjoong?”
“You two don’t agree on anything, you don’t argue, but you don’t agree.”
San raises an eyebrow. “i’ll save you the time, i have reasons for why it wouldn’t have been anyone but wooyoung.” Seonghwa mentions as he takes another bite, fiddling with the fork as he tries to get a bite of rice. “America sucks.” He mumbles.
San narrows his eyes. “Maybe you should have gotten a spoon.”
•
It had been about a month since the dreaded mall talk. Now back in korea, san had been spending roughly 99% of his time trying to deal with this. His closest friend, above anyone else in the group, he has feelings for.
He knew how to deal with most problems he came across, he had figured ways to self soothe, comfort, and sometimes solve his issues after he was done being upset over them. But this had never been something he struggled with. He wasn’t used to it, this feeling he felt when he saw wooyoung. How he was conscious of his every move, how he talked to him differently, now with a faint tone of flirting, which he never intended. He felt sick to his stomach even now just thinking about him finding out, how they would try to keep everything the same after that and then realize they can’t. He thought of wooyoung’s face falling when he realized that his closest friend saw him as more than just that.
The fluorescent lights of the practice room hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the polished floors. The studio they had been practicing in what lit far better than the last, which was kinda irritating considering how bright and white it was, the room felt far more lifeless than the last.
Wooyoung stretched in the corner, his movements fluid and practiced yet still stiff as he warmed up for their evening rehearsal. Evening rehearsals were the worst, personally he didn’t like them so much cause by that point in the day he was ready to kill over and die.
His laughter echoed through the space as Mingi attempted some ridiculous exaggerated version of a new move, completely off-beat from the music playing softly through the speakers.
San watched from near the mirrored wall, his water bottle feeling suddenly heavy in his hand. Every casual touch Wooyoung gave others a pat on Yunho's shoulder, leaning against Yeosang while catching his breath, sent strange pangs through San's chest. He really hated this feeling. He'd always appreciated Wooyoung's affectionate nature, but now each gesture felt weighted with new meaning.
Hongjoong entered the room, clapping his hands together. "Alright everyone, let's run through the new choreography from the top. Wooyoung, you're leading the second formation change today." This was a rare day where Hongjoong had to take control of the studio, usually the choreographer was shouting out commands, but the guy was sick, and this just so happened to be the choreo that Hongjoong got more of a say in.
When practice ended two hours later, everyone began gathering their things. Wooyoung slung an arm around San's shoulders, completely unaware of how the casual contact made San freeze momentarily.
"Hey, some of us are grabbing dinner. You coming?" Wooyoung asked, his eyes bright with hope that san would accept.
San opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He could only manage a nod, hyper-aware of Wooyoung's arm still draped across his shoulders as they headed toward the changing rooms.
•
They’d gotten the table they always picked, despite all being different people with incredibly different personalities, they were all creatures of habit, which in moments like these was very helpful.
Jongho leaned his head against his closed fist, an informal stance not in his nature. “You guys think the foods coming soon?”
“Someone’s impatient.” Wooyoung jokes.
“Well yes i haven’t eaten all day.” Jongho narrows his eyes.
“that’s on you.” Wooyoung puts his hands up in defense.
“Yeah and we literally had a damn buffet at the studio how didn’t you eat?” Yunho narrows his eyes, confused as hell.
“I wasn’t hungry!”
Simultaneously, Seonghwa and wooyoung speak. “So don’t complain then.”
•
Wooyoung dramatically slammed his hands on the table, making the dishes rattle as they had already finished their food probably 20 minutes ago or so. “i could drink all of you under the table, 8 shots, now.”
“No no no, hell no get that idea out of your head now.” Seonghwa shakes his head as he speaks mostly with a joking tone but a serious expression on his face.
“He said it, we gotta do it.” San says, shrugging.
“Hey- no? since when is that the rule.” Seonghwa glares at him, looking extremely confused despite knowing exactly why he said that.
“He’s probably rage baiting us.. or just trying to challenge us.. or maybe even trick us.. but we gotta do it.” Mingi mutters pridefully as though he’s doing something noble.
“No none of those things are good nor do they mean you should.” Seonghwa says, now just a bit more serious as he notices wooyoung raising his hand to flag down a waiter.
“we can’t let him think he can out drink us.” Yeosang shrugs as he’s being made to do this. “he’s forcing our hand.”
“Ok do none of you think for yourselves, seriously we have rehearsal tomorrow, this isn’t a great idea.” Wooyoung laughs, leaning over the table as he looks at seonghwa. “Come on Hwa, you’re just mad cause you know i’ll smoke you.”
The whole table lets out a simultaneous ‘ooh’ like a bunch of kindergarteners.
In cinematic fashion, the waiter comes back with a bottle of soju right at seonghwa is about to answer. In any other situation, he wouldn’t take this bait so easily, but it had been awhile since he last drank and he knew wooyoung would be persistent if he didn’t. He grabs the bottle, without a second thought opening it.
“I don’t even think they have shot glasses here.” Jongho mutters, watching seonghwa.
“Idiot this is a restaurant, with a bar, they have shot glasses.” Mingi looks at jongho like he actually is 100% an idiot. Wooyoung slips out of the booth, walking over to the bar.
“Are you actually gonna do this?” San asks seonghwa, mostly because
“Yup, i’ll give him one thing he’s skilled at the art of rage baiting.”
Wooyoung has the shot glasses held between all of his fingers as he returns to the table faster than they would have expected. He’s got a wicked grin on his face when he slides back into the booth. Seonghwa is across from him, a comically serious look on his face.
San, who’s sitting comfortably beside wooyoung, reaches his long arm over the table and grabs the bottle. He opens it, pouring two shots with a grin of enjoyment on his face.
“Hey i thought we were all drinking.” Hongjoong says, a not so subtle hint that he really wants a shot. San bows his head, annoyingly polite despite the fact it was a joke. Wooyoung slides everyone a shot glass, san pouring the liquid into each. The table shakes with a small thump as san sits the bottle back down.
Everyone grabs the glasses, not raising them in a typical fashion but bringing them to their lips to prepare.
“Okay, challenge, since wooyoung things he can make it to 8 shots and handle it..” Seonghwa pauses, looking at wooyoung who is locked and loaded, ready to drink. “9 is our goal.” Before any words or comments are made, hongjoong begins counting down.
“3.. 2.. 1.”
Their arms all move in the same motion, downing the shots quick.
•
It’s a really awkward thing for seonghwa, playing one of these games. When he gets himself into these situations, around a specific point he can tell when he’s unable to go on, that tinge in his chest that feels like pressure. It doesn’t hurt or cause any pain but god is it uncomfortable. Pride courses through him more than his own blood, so he fights on, despite the fact he really shouldn’t.
2 shots in, Yeosang taps out, making an excuse that he’s trying to be sensible for tomorrow. A lie, the dudes a lightweight yet overestimates what he can take, classic yeosang.
San is anything but a lightweight, not because he drinks a lot, but cause he was just born that way.
When he downs his third shot, he gets this cheeky grin that lives dormant on his face and seems to not be leaving anytime soon. He has a habit of going nonverbal when he’s drunk, but he’s yet to reach that point, so as of now he’s talking quietly to himself. His words, though not sentences, come out like one. Long strings of informal nothings that apply to nothing and mean nothing.
San has been so caught up in worrying about his feelings, how the recent situation would change things no matter what he did, he was so tired of worrying. He didn’t drink often, hardly for that matter, but when he did he always rejoiced in the comforting silence that slowly creeped into his head. Finally, a break.
3 shots in, Yunho and Hongjoong tap out. Yunho is slumped over the table, talking about everything and nothing to hongjoong, who is not getting a single word. Hongjoong couldn’t listen, cause he was focused on seonghwa, trying to see when he’d quit.
“Lock in dude, you aren’t even halfway through.” Hongjoong says, obviously. “I know that.. i know that…” He trails of as if he had something else to say, his words coming out lazy and unfinished.
Hongjoong moves his hand to seonghwa’s arm. “you got this queen.” Any other day, seonghwa would have cringed so hard his face broke but he was more focused on his stomach doing cartwheels.
Jongho insists, that for a fact, he can go further, but follows suit as shot 4 goes down.
6 shots in, Wooyoung is making lethal eye contact with seonghwa as he resorts to intimidation. Seonghwa is hardly even looking at him, or forming proper thoughts, so it really didn’t work.
By this point, san was at the point where he became nonverbal, just a big happy smile painted on his face. Wether he had noticed it or not, he moved closer to wooyoung in the last 30 minutes, damn near leaning over onto him. Wooyoung had one hand outwardly extended, holding san from falling over on him. He typically loved affection, touch, but god san was too big to put all of his weight on him.
“Give up Hwa, you look like you’re gonna fall asleep.” Wooyoung mutters, his eyes locked onto seonghwa.
Seonghwa shakes his head, taking the 7th shot in his hand and downing it without a second thought. Hongjoong’s eyes widen slightly. “oh wow” he says far louder than intended.
8 Shots in, Mingi taps out, not verbally though. He simply shakes his head, his face beat red.
“.. y.. yo-“ San stutters, his thoughts sounding the exact way he’s talking. “uh.. alright?” He asks mingi, looking at him with a slightly concerned look. Wooyoung looks over at san, finding it amusing that san always looks out for others even when he’s actively wasted.
Mingi waves his hand in response, he’s good.
After san is done putting all of his physical effort into asking a question.. sort of.. he slumps back over onto wooyoung, wrapping his arms around him. Wooyoung looks down at him, laughing as he tries to hold onto him. Sans head was pounding rhythmically, providing an annoyingly persistent soundtrack to this actually peaceful moment.
Finally, the last shot. San really should have stopped, he just didn’t.
Seonghwa was now looking quite similar to Yunho, slumped over the table. Wooyoung, was somehow still acting somewhat normal. He was a bit more giggly and a bit more touchy than usual if it was even possible. His head felt heavy, but he liked the feeling for some reason.
He had his head on wooyoung’s shoulder. “..ok?” he asks weakly, his face turning inward as his breath hits Wooyoung's neck. He nods, looking down at sans pink face. “Im ok..” He smiles softly at him, then shifts his gaze to seonghwa, seeing the dazed look on his face. “Just tap out, don’t take that final shot.” He tilts his head slightly to the side in a cocky manner as he is positive hes won this.
“i.. ive made it.. this.. this…” He trails off, his head falling back as he tries to gather his few thoughts. “far”
“Just admit you’ve been bested.”
Seonghwa finally gives in, his lack of thoughts making it easier for him to forget his pride. “No.. no more.” He mumbles.
Awkwardly sitting there, the rest of the group ranged from slightly tipsy to blackout drunk. San was lazily slurring words into Wooyoung's neck, which seonghwa was intently watching to the best of his ability. “S..San.. San..” He mumbles, trying his hardest to get Sans attention. Hes got his big arms wrapped around wooyoung’s waist, his face glistening with sweat. Even in Seonghwa’s braindead state he knows if san had even a hint of rationality right now, he would not be doing this, not with these newly acknowledged feelings simmering beneath the surface.
Seonghwa keeps weakly repeating his name, to no avail. San doesn't even look over.
Wooyoung, though clearly affected by the alcohol himself, maintained enough awareness to keep a steadying arm around San's shoulders, his expression a mixture of amusement and concern. He decided to put his worries to the side, enjoying the closeness. His grip on san tightened slightly.
Hongjoong was already on his phone, trying to arrange transportation for their intoxicated group. He was mentally pregaming, trying to get his act even remotely together before talking to a fellow living, breathing, person. "We need three cars," he mumbled, squinting at his screen. "Maybe four.” He looks around as though someones gonna answer him despite the fact he hasn't made a call. “Yunho can't walk straight."
Mingi had slid halfway under the table, humming a melody he had stuck in his head when he was sober, seemingly on repeat. Jongho patted his back reassuringly, his eyes closed like a white blonde woman in church.
Yeosang sat with his head in his hands, muttering about never drinking again despite having tapped out earliest. This was typical for him.
Wooyoung shifted slightly, trying to adjust San's weight without disturbing him. "Hey, Sannie," he said softly, "we need to get you home." But San just tightened his grip around Wooyoung's waist, nuzzling deeper into his neck with a contented sigh.
Wooyoung shifted uncomfortably under San's dead weight, his own coordination beginning to falter from the alcohol. Its safe to say his mistakes were starting to get back to him. He could feel the dampness of San's sweat through his shirt, the warmth of his breath against his neck becoming increasingly noticeable. San is barely conscious, if that, his mind still comfortably clear as he keeps that grin on his face.
After an embarrassingly long time, Hongjoong finally managed to secure transportation, though his slurred instructions to the drivers were barely comprehensible. He had been sitting on his phone quietly, practically chewing on his nails as he tried to ground himself. "Yunho and Mingi in the first car," he announced, pointing vaguely toward the entrance and the men in question. "Jongho and Yeosang in the second. The rest of us..." His gaze swept over the remaining members, lingering on San practically draped across Wooyoung. He looks around, not really knowing what to say as he mumbles. “Uh- yeah…”
Seonghwa attempted to stand, gripping the edge of the table as the room spun around him. "I'll.. help.. with San," he offered, though his unsteady stance suggested he could barely manage himself. Hongjoong shook his head rapidly. “No.. im gonna just find rides for us all.”
Wooyoung tried to gently extract himself from San's embrace, but the older man only clung tighter, mumbling something that sounded like "don't go" against his skin. San only had one thing on his mind whether he knew it or not; keeping wooyoung close. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on the other members still coherent enough to notice, though none commented—whether out of drunkenness or discretion. Seonghwa glared at them, the image of an angry san yelling at him for not stopping the situation filling his head.
Hongjoong's attempts at organization were faltering as Yunho began singing an off-key rendition of their latest title track, his voice echoing through the nearly empty restaurant. Mingi had progressed from humming to attempting the actual choreography while still partially under the table, narrowly avoiding knocking over a water glass with his flailing limbs. Jongho holds his hands out in front of Mingi, trying to control Mingi and his own laughter with a silent gesture.
Wooyoung found himself trapped between San's persistent clinging and his own swimming head. He looked down at him. "Sannie, we really need to move," he murmured, trying to gently pry the older man's arms from around his waist. But San only responded by nuzzling closer, his breath warm against Wooyoung's collarbone. “Theyre getting us a ride so we can leave..”
Yeosang leaned his head back against the booth. “Im.. i dont.. Want.. no more drinking..”
“Yeah.. you always say that.. Then drink again.” Mingi finally shuts up, pausing his little performance just to comment.
“Shhhh…” Yeosang mumbles, lowering his head again as he slumps.
Jongho, despite his own intoxication, proved surprisingly capable as he slowly helped Yeosang to his feet. "Let's get you outside for some air," he said, his voice steadier than expected as he guided the groaning Yeosang toward the entrance. The cool night breeze that swept through the opened door provided momentary relief from the stuffy restaurant atmosphere. It seemed to remind them that there was in fact a world outside this place.
~
The cool night air hit Wooyoung's face as he half-carried, half-dragged San through the restaurant's exit. He looked down the dark street, his eyes narrowed and sleepy. Hongjoong had managed to secure them a separate ride, their driver came first.
The old man driving the ugly as fuck prius was not easy on the eyes. He wore a skeptical expression upon seeing their condition, they got into the car in the most uncomfortable way possible. The man was glaring back at them through the mirror with a hardly hidden look of disgust on his ugly mug, which made Wooyoung flush with embarrassment. "He's just tired," Wooyoung slurred defensively, though the lie was transparent as San practically melted against his side. None of this was helping their case.
The car ride was a blur of streetlights and muted city sounds. The driver made no attempt to make conversation, and it seemed it was extremely intentional. San remained pressed against Wooyoung's side, his head lolling onto Wooyoung's shoulder with each turn. Wooyoung found himself hyper-aware of every point of contact—the warmth of San's thigh against his, the weight of his head, the occasional soft murmur against his neck that sent unexpected shivers down his spine. The alcohol still clouded his thinking, making it difficult to process why these sensations felt so different tonight.
Stumbling through San's apartment door felt like navigating an obstacle course. Wooyoung's coordination was compromised by both the alcohol and the dead weight of San clinging to him. They nearly tripped over a pair of shoes left by the entrance, catching themselves against the wall with clumsy, uncoordinated movements. San's laughter bubbled up, low and warm against Wooyoung's ear, though neither could quite articulate what was so funny.
In the dim light of the bedroom, Wooyoung attempted to deposit San onto the mattress, but found himself pulled down instead. San had no thoughts running through his head except for how right it felt to be holding wooyoung like this. His arms wrapped around him with surprising strength for someone so intoxicated, their bodies flush against each other on the soft surface.
The world spun momentarily as Wooyoung tried to right himself, but San's grip was insistent, his face nuzzling into the crook of Wooyoung's neck with a contented sigh. "Stay," San mumbled, the word slurred but clear in the quiet room, nothing else to focus on, nothing else to explain it away. His hands wandered up Wooyoung's back, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Wooyoung could feel the rapid beat of San's heart against his own chest, maybe it was his own pulse racing, he couldn't tell. The alcohol made everything feel heightened, more intense, more overwhelming.
San leaned his head down into the smaller man’s neck, his breath fanning over Wooyoungs skin.
San stuck his tongue out slightly, connecting his lips with his neck. Wooyoung knew he should have pulled away. Some rational part of his brain screamed that this was wrong, that they were too drunk, that tomorrow would bring complications neither was prepared to face or have to ignore.
Wooyoung's breath hitched, his own inhibitions crumbling under the weight of San's persistent affection. San couldn't stop if he tried, he was absolutely lost in the feeling. He felt so warm, inside and out. San moved over, lying on his side as wooyoung was on his back.
The room seemed to tilt as San's mouth became more insistent, teeth grazing lightly against sensitive skin before soothing the small bite with his tongue. Wooyoung's hands, which had been braced against the mattress, now tangled in San's hair almost of their own volition. He was tugging for dear life, feeling how soft it was. San didn’t mean to groan, but he did. His movements grew more confident as he felt Wooyoung respond, his drunken mind interpreting the lack of resistance as permission.
His hand slid beneath Wooyoung's shirt, palms hot against the skin of his chest. San started to fall into a different position, moving his body over wooyoungs, still laying on his side, but now leaning over him. Wooyoung could feel the hard lines of San's body pressed against him, the muscular frame he'd admired during countless practice sessions now yielding beneath his exploring hands.
They had always touched, always been close. He was close with wooyoung more than anyone else. They hugged all the time, cuddled, kissed each others cheeks, but nothing could compare to this, this was indefensible. Nothing rational could explain this away when the two were finally sober.
San tentatively moved his right hand to wooyoung’s face, for a man so inexperienced, he was so ready to take him there. The way wooyoung looked up at him damn near made his knees buckle, his dark eyes gazing at him like he was his world. Wooyoung’s skin was hot, bright red, mirroring sans face as he swiped his tongue over his lower lip, unbeknownst to him. San looked at his lips, something snapping, as though all those fears and worries he had before of rejection had died.
San dips his head, connecting his lips with Wooyoung’s. Immediately pure pleasure floods Wooyoung's senses. In any other moment, he really would have thought more, but all he knew was how bad he wanted more.
The kiss was messy, uncoordinated, yet held an urgency that made Wooyoung's head spin more than any man ever had. San knew how to kiss women, he figured it couldn’t have been so different from kissing a man. He had spent the entirety of the last 4 months thinking about this.. specifically with wooyoung.
San's tongue explored his mouth with a desperate hunger, as if trying to consume every part of him in any way he could. His hand moved from his face to his short midlegth black hair, tugging on it. It was unintentional, but it melted wooyoung. He responded with the same amount of intensity, but his was experienced, like he knew this whole time what San wanted and he was willing to give it. His hands were on his shoulders, gripping so hard it was gonna leave marks.
The shift in position came naturally, Wooyoung rolling them over until he straddled San's hips. The new angle allowed him to look down at San's face, flushed and beautiful in the dim light filtering through the window. San's eyes were heavy-lidded, dark with desire and probably tiredness, yet they held a vulnerability that made Wooyoung's chest ache.
His hands came up to frame Wooyoung's face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones with surprising tenderness despite their drunken state. He was flush against San, moving his hands to sans short hair and pulling slightly. He tilted sans head back, sliding his tongue past his lips and into his mouth.
San moved his hands to wooyoung’s hips, then his upper thighs. A groan escaped sans lips, his mind filled with now, only one thought, which was more than before.
What was he going to do if Wooyoung wanted more.
Before he could even think more, wooyoung pressed himself against san, hard. His hips moving in a smooth circle. San had to shut his eyes so they didn’t roll back, not expecting that one simple movement to do so much damage. Wooyoung rolled his hips against him roughly in an unsteady rhythm that mirrored his desire, moving his hand to the back of Sans neck. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, the skin he knew san took such good care of he finally was getting to hold like this.
Sans hands moved to wooyoung’s hips again, pressing his fingertips into his skin as he pulled him down harder. His head fell back against the bed, he was already hard, but it was getting out of control. It was starting to get painful how badly he needed this, how badly he wanted more.
Somehow, wooyoung seemed to notice the tension on his face, despite his state. “y.. you.. okay?” He asks weakly. the first words spoken through this whole scene.
San seems to think for a moment, he knows this feels amazing, he knows that for once he feels so comfortable in himself, like everything has been shut out in the best way possible. He nods. “..i.. am.. really good..”
Wooyoung starts to lower himself, san hardly even noticing as his legs get spread apart. His hips raised slightly unbeknownst to him as he watched wooyoung with the most focus he could muster. Clanking sounds fill sans ears as wooyoung unbuckles his belt. San looks down, his eyes barely even open right now as he tries to look at wooyoung’s face.
Wooyoung was practically foaming at the mouth, not even bothering to look at san. He practically ripped the belt off, impatience radiating from him. He moves his hands to the cuffs of sans jeans, tugging. San lifts his hips slightly higher, making it easier for wooyoung to pull off his pants.
San could still think enough to be able to tell where this was going, and as bad as he wanted it, he couldn’t help but feel worry start to finally creep in. His mind slowly started to return to its natural state of worrying, far more irrational due to intoxication which was arguably worse. He reviewed the worst case scenario; wooyoung regrets this tomorrow. He.. he is just as drunk as me i.. he might-
“I want this.. are.. you okay with this?” Wooyoung mutters, his hands on the bright blue hem of sans boxers. He seemed to have read sans mind as he silences his thoughts with one question.
“you’ll.. you w- tomorrow.. youre.. going to regret this..” Sans words come out pitiful, absolutely pitiful. He’s got that cute little pout on his face, looking down at wooyoung with a frown.
Wooyoung smiles as though he finds this amusing as he shakes his head. “No i won’t..” He says quietly as he dips his head again, his lips press against sans neck. Sans worries aren’t easily forgotten, but he starts to relax mentally, his muscles following suit.
Wooyoung extends his tongue, laying it flat along sans neck and licking a long stripe over his skin. San felt a shiver go down his spine as his hands returned to wooyoung’s hips.
He stayed like this for awhile, licking and sucking soft marks into sans neck, eventually san moved his fingers into Wooyoung’s black hair, not tugging but supporting. It made it clear that San was enjoying this and 100% wanted more.
Wooyoung eventually returned his fingers to sans boxers, hooking his fingers in the hem. They slowly came down just enough for him to see and touch him. He had clearly been waiting and for a moment longer than he should have. W
Wooyoung made eye contact with Sans length. That was intimidating.
San had seen that look a few times.
Wooyoung wrapped his long fingers around San, wasting no more time as he leaned his head down. San felt goosebumps wash over his skin as reality became eminent.
Wooyoung licked a long stripe along his length, his dark eyes going to Sans immediately as he searched for active feedback in his expression. He started from the bottom, slowly licking up to his tip before taking him in his mouth.
The groan san let out was guttural, his throat vibrating as his head fell against the mattress again. “Wooyoung..” He slowly started to lower his head, taking San further into his warm mouth. San moved one hand to his own mouth, covering his lips as his eyebrows furrowed. His other hand went to wooyoung’s hair, threading through the silky strands. His hold wasn’t to force but to keep himself grounded, sane.
When wooyoung had taken all he could, he moved his hand to the bottom of sans length, fully taking his mouth off before returning full throttle.
He started sucking as though he had been waiting his whole life, sans fingers digging into his hair so roughly he was sure it should have hurt. San had gotten this from women before, it never felt this amazing. He couldn’t figure out if it was because it was wooyoung or just because none of the women were this good, but honestly it was probably both. His mind went numb, feeling himself hitting the back of wooyoung’s throat.
He felt that familiar warmth in his stomach, the pulsing desire making it so much harder to think any rational thoughts.
“Wooyoung.. i’m..” As if he needed to say anything else.
Sans vision was damn near blurry, everything they had ever done, every word spoken to each other, it all felt as though it was leading to this. it felt like all of the worrying and late nights crying over this man had been a challenge and this was the reward.
In the back of his mind, a part of him was worried wooyoung would regret this, but everytime wooyoung swirled his tongue around him, he forgot about the idea entirely.
Sans head fell back against the pillow that sat beneath his head, his hips fighting against lifting upward. His tongue swipes over his own bottom lip, his eyes meeting the ceiling. Wooyoung slows his movements as san starts to fill his mouth.
Sans fingers tighten in wooyoung’s hair, low groans escaping his lips as he comes undone. “Fuck..” He mumbles breathlessly. His eyes lower to wooyoung, seeing him gazing into his eyes. He’s watching, not only watching but studying sans expression as he keeps his lips firmly latched onto him.
San leans his head back against the pillow again, his neck slightly sore. Wooyoung slowly pulls his mouth off, a thick sound echoing from his throat as he swallows. He extends his legs, crawling over beside San.
They lay there quietly for awhile, San slowly trying to bring himself back to reality. Wooyoung quiets his thoughts, his fingers running over his chest soothingly.