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San doesn’t like the way Wooyoung’s been looking at him through dinner. He’s got that guilty look in his eyes; the same one he had when he’d washed the good smells out of his favourite blanket, the one he had when he’d lost his scarf on the way home, the one he had when he’d been petting other cats outside.
“What is it?” San narrows his eyes when Wooyoung takes both their dishes away without pestering San to eat at least one vegetable, a clear sign that he is some sort of criminal. It’s been long enough that Wooyoung is an open book to San, and while he can’t exactly read the contents, he can smell the plot. “Are you finally getting rid of me?”
“Like I could ever do that, baby. If I put you outside, you’re climbing back in whether I like it or not. You want any milk?” Wooyoung offers, frowning when San shakes his head, petulant and determined to make a fuss about this. “Hey, now, don’t be like that. I can warm it for you, can’t I?”
Begrudgingly, San caves. He’s never going to say no to warm milk, so he nods and finds his usual spot on the couch to sulk there instead, wrapping Wooyoung’s big knit cardigan around himself. The chill of winter is just beginning to creep into their home, though it’s not quite bad enough to fire up the little space heater Wooyoung keeps in the closet. San is glad about that; the first few days of it being out smell like burnt dust, and it makes him sneeze.
His ear twitches and flicks when Wooyoung’s hands find his hair, pulling his head back carefully to make San look at him. Even upside down, his eyes hold something suspicious. “You ever get lonely here?” Wooyoung asks as he leans down, petting the base of San’s left ear as he kisses his lips, granting San a noseful of his neck. He smells good, like roast chicken. “Like, when I’m out at work. Do you feel like you’re alone too much?”
Ah, so that’s why he looks so sad. “No. I just sleep and wait for you to come back,” San says softly, deliberately leaving out how he watches the birds outside in case one of them flies in and makes itself his new toy for the day. He often cracks the patio door open to invite them in, but just as often has to close it when the huge seagulls decide to try to say hello. “Sometimes I play with that mouse thing, but that’s only when you’re out for a long time.”
Wooyoung’s whole face crinkles at that. “That’s hardly a very fulfilling life, San. You sound like a prisoner,” he argues, standing when the pot on the stove begins making unhappy noises and leaving to tend to the milk. “I think I’d die if my whole life was like that. It can’t be a very happy existence, San.”
“I’m very happy. You come home and cook and talk to me about stuff. It’s not like you’re keeping me in a cage or something, I’m very happy at home. House cats exist, Wooyoung,” San hums, turning to watch at Wooyoung transfers the newly steamed milk from the saucepan to one of his favourite mugs, the green one with a sweet black cat on it, playing with a butterfly. Wooyoung often calls it his omen for San. It’s nice. “If I wasn’t happy, I would tell you. Or I would smell really sad.”
“I can’t smell you like you smell me, baby,” Wooyoung smiles as he settles beside San, very carefully holding the mug as San clambers into his lap and lays close, his tail flicking and batting against the back of the couch. “Don’t you, like.. want a friend, or something? Someone to spend time with when I’m not around?”
Immediately, San’s fur stands to irritated attention. It’s a silly suggestion; the last time San met another hybrid, they both ended up with scratches, and San’s pride was wounded for weeks. “No.” he says firmly, taking the mug from Wooyoung’s hand and drinking a big mouthful, nuzzling his face against the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, sniffing and pouting. “I don’t wanna share. Happy with just us.”
Wooyoung’s frame sags a little, but San isn’t about to coo and stop him from feeling bad about trying to tear them apart and ruin their little slice of heaven. But he does still press a little closer, purring a little to keep him from feeling so bad about it all. “Well. You know my therapist?” Wooyoung says softly, stroking slowly at the back of San’s neck and watching as he takes another sip of milk, licking a creamy droplet from his top lip. San knows Wooyoung’s therapist reasonably well, he’s been around a few times and he gets on with Wooyoung nicely, and he brings things for San when he visits. “He, uh. He thinks that it might be a good idea for us to find another hybrid to give a good home to. So I might have made an appointment to visit the shelter tomorrow, and- San.”
“You’re terrible. You’re going to replace me with another cat and make me go to the dockyards to scrap for fish with the other strays,” San sulks, nursing his cup of warm milk and turning his face when Wooyoung tuts and coos softly, pouting. His ears tilt and flick, his tail limp against the couch, even when Wooyoung scratches the nape of his neck in the spot that makes him quiver. “This is horrible. You’re so cruel.”
“You can come with me, baby, hm? You’re not going anywhere, not if I have any say in it, I just don’t want you to be alone all the time. My hours at work are increasing, and I just.. I feel terrible, you being here, no one to talk to. You’re staying, okay? I promise. And if you don’t want a cat friend, we can find someone else.”
Unfortunately, he has a fair point. San likes basking around the house as much as the next cat, but it does get a little boring when Wooyoung has a full day of classes to teach. San is no good at cooking, so he can’t eat to pass the time, and watching the birds only works when they’re there . “No cats. I’m not coming with you, I trust you to find someone who isn’t a cat. And I’m still yours . You can’t give me away to that guy you’re friends with, I’ll kill him and eat him.”
“Alright, baby, no killing or eating. I’ll find someone nice, hm? You’re a very social cat, I’m sure you’ll get along fine with your new best friend,” Wooyoung coos, keeping a close hold of San’s waist and kissing his cheek gently, repeating until San caves and meets his lips. “I’ll still love you, alright? You don’t need to worry about that. Please.”
But San does worry about it.
He worries when Wooyoung comes home from the shelter, talking a mile a minute about how everyone there was lovely and sociable, and how there are a few dog hybrids that seemed to be a good fit. He worries when a week later, Wooyoung is starting to sign forms, and two weeks later when there’s new bedding in the spare room and new things for the new person in their space, in San’s space.
The worry isn’t enough to interfere with San’s napping schedule, at least. He’s extra affectionate through the morning of the dreaded adoption day, nosing against Wooyoung’s jaw and holding his waist, trailing his fingers over the slight curve that he insists is a result of a successful breeding. And when Wooyoung leaves, San eats the leftover chicken from last night, and sleeps on the couch, bundled up in the blankets from the bed.
He doesn’t often dream, but he does have a lingering one about Wooyoung leaving him for a big pack of wolves. It’s been in the back of his brain since Jongho came over with his two dog hybrids and left the house smelling of dog , leaving it up to San to do the laundry and rub himself all over the basket before allowing the load to reenter the rest of the home. Wooyoung has insisted that him suddenly hating cats isn’t a thing that will happen, but he still isn’t exactly thrilled about allowing a symbol of the enemy into their home.
When he wakes from his nap, San smells cooking. It’s meat, and a lot of it. Maybe Wooyoung decided against bringing home a dog, and instead brought San home a feast for all the stress of the situation.
And then he opens his eyes, and is greeted by someone who is not Wooyoung.
Watching San with wide, curious eyes, is a man with soft, floppy dog ears. He’s as still as the big statue in the park, staring like he’ll be killed if he dares to do so much as blink, his tail behind him more like an abandoned worm on a string than anything of use. He’s wearing a big, comfortable looking hoodie. If San tried to scratch, it could probably penetrate the soft cotton, but his claws would get stuck. Smart move.
They look at each other in silence, until Wooyoung turns his attention from the stove and notices their wordless standoff, cooing like they’re a puppy and kitten in love. “Sannie, good morning~ I was starting to think you’d sleep through to tomorrow,” he says softly, a bowl of what looks like vegetables in his hand. “San, this is Yeosangie. Yeosang, this is Sannie. Sangie’s a doberman cross, aren’t you, lovely?”
Yeosang looks soothed by Wooyoung’s presence, but his posture stays attentive as his tail beats against the couch, excited as he gets scratches at the base of his ears. “Mhm, it’s really nice to meet you, San. I hope I’m not making you feel.. bad, or uncomfortable,” Yeosang says, and his voice is beautiful ; warm and deep and kind, like Wooyoung after he’s woken up from a long sleep, or the nice mailman who brings nice cake from his nice partner. San crinkles his nose, wiggling a little further under the blankets, and Yeosang’s tail tries to stop wagging about all the attention he’s getting, but it’s not quite a success. “I, um. I brought you something. To say thank you, for welcoming me.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” San says warily, almost feeling guilty when Yeosang stands and disappears towards the spare room. He’s not exactly welcoming Yeosang, he’s just allowing him to live in his home, and share half of his Wooyoung’s attention. It’s more a formal arrangement than a welcome . “Do I have to be nice?”
“Yes.” Wooyoung frowns, picking out a small slice of carrot from the bowl and chewing it as he sits in the armchair, glaring at San. “He’s been so sweet, don’t you dare be mean to him. How would you like it if I introduced you to Jongho and he looked at you like you smelled, huh?”
San scowls, moving to sit up and letting some of the blankets slide down, allowing a welcome breeze to hit his warm skin. His tail is smushed somewhere between the couch cushions. “Are you sure he’s a doberman? He looks.. fluffier than they’re supposed to,” he squints at the half open door, where Yeosang is looking through a suitcase, head tilted, tail wagging. “What if he’s lied on his paperwork? He could kill me.”
“He’s a doberman cross , they’re not too sure of his father’s genes. Are you naked ?”
San lies and shakes his head, keeping the blankets carefully draped over his lap as Yeosang finally returns from his little fetch quest, present in hand. “Wooyoung said you like birds, so.. here,” he looks very proud of himself as he presents San with a round little bird plushie, blue and big eyes and very squishable. Admittedly, it’ll be a lovely addition to his already large collection.
“Thank you. It’s.. it’s really nice of you,” San says as he takes the bird and looks at it, admiring the roundness of its features, nice big eyes and a sweet little beak. It’s a really nice shade of blue, one San definitely doesn’t have in his collection, and it’s honestly a little annoying that he’s found such a perfect gift. He holds it close, giving it an experimental sniff and finding himself relieved to not be overwhelmed by the smell of dog.
Dinner is fine, mostly due to Wooyoung talking about how the adoption place had spoken so highly of Yeosang, and how they were definitely correct, and how he’s very lovely and kind and gently spoken and a very good boy . San, naturally, sulks about it. He’s the only good boy in the house, Yeosang doesn’t get to share that title just because he brought home a lovely bird plush and eats his vegetables. San tries to retaliate by daring to eat a sprig of cauliflower, giving up after the first nibble and scrunching his nose up, coughing sadly.
Wooyoung is wise enough to not leave them alone in the house for the first few days, meaning San has to be on his best behaviour. Or at least, something close to it. He’s certainly not going to pretend that he gets along with Yeosang, but he’s kind enough to let him exist in San’s third favourite spot; the nice, big armchair. He hisses when Yeosang tries to sit in San’s spot on the windowsill, and he doesn’t even dare try to sniff around Wooyoung’s bed, so it’s a very nice gesture on San’s part to let him sit in the comfiest chair in the house.
He does a lot of observing. Yeosang seems oblivious to him most of the time, but still cautious and wary to not infiltrate San’s space, leaving plenty of time to watch him. He’s.. strange. San is used to entertaining himself through the day, but Yeosang does it in a weird way, and it bothers him. He doesn’t knead or rub or flop, instead he just kind of.. puts things in other things, and waits for someone to notice. He does silly little tasks, and Wooyoung looks thrilled when he sees whatever mundane thing Yeosang has done, cooing and fussing until Yeosang’s tail wags with the force of one of those big wind power things.
“You’re being petulant,” Wooyoung says one evening, after Yeosang has been shooed from the living room to take a shower, finally leaving San alone with him. He pouts, ignoring his desire to curl up into Wooyoung’s lap and continuing his sulking instead, his tail batting against the cushions. “You literally haven’t spoken to him since he moved in. Is it a dominance thing? Because I really don’t think he’s trying to dominate you at all, San, you make him nervous.”
Good , San thinks. “Don’t have anything to say,” he huffs, looking at the little thing made of hand towels Yeosang made today and frowning at it. “He could bite me.”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes, sighing loudly and standing from the comfy armchair. “San. He isn’t going to bite you, you’re just making things up to be in a pissy little mood. Will you try to stop being like this?” he crosses his arms, not backing down even when San’s ears wilt and his tail flops against the couch, limp. “If I go to work for a few hours tomorrow. Can you please be nice?”
San pouts and crosses his arms right back at Wooyoung, intent on continuing this argument even when he hears the water being cut in the bathroom, a sign that soon his life will once again be non-dog-free. “I’m being as nice as I can be. M’not gonna look at him like he ate the moon,” he huffs, tilting an ear to listen carefully for any sounds of the bathroom door opening. “I’ll be good. Won’t even scratch or bite, I promise.”
And in all fairness, he keeps his word. When Wooyoung leaves after breakfast the next morning, San doesn’t make fun of Yeosang when he looks morosely at the door for a few minutes, mostly because he’d done the same for a whole week when it was just him on his own. He finishes eating his carefully selected pieces of fruit, staring at the lone piece of bacon on Wooyoung’s plate and twitching through his suppressing of the need to take it. No, today San will be extra good. He’ll be so good Wooyoung will reward him, and Yeosang will know that San is the best boy.
Being good consists of watching the bird feeder for an hour. Yeosang joins him at some point, with a ball with some little jingly things inside it that takes a lot of San’s patience to not start playing with, his tail swishing as Yeosang pushes it in circles. Instead, he moves closer to the window and rests his chin intently on the sil, watching with wide eyes as a fat little robin perches on the feeder, pecking joyfully at seeds, wings fluttering. The birds pay no mind to him behind the glass, or to Yeosang when he presses himself against the patio door and stares at them too, his own clumsier tail mimicking San’s slow swishes.
“Are they always here?” Yeosang asks, the jingling of the ball now silent as the puppy’s attention shifts to the far more interesting target of the birds. San nods, purring quietly when his favourite little finch plants himself opposite the robin, jabbing at the seed tray like he’s at an open buffet. It’s such a pretty bird, but unfortunately he’s too smart to come into the house when San opens the door, just hopping around on the grass and tilting its little head at him. San wiggles his hips, tucking himself inwardly when the finch looks at him, mocking. “I think they like you. Look, he’s watching you.”
“We’re enemies. Cats and birds aren’t friends,” San hums, squinting when the finch dares to hop on the windowsill to get a better look at his natural predator, chirping and hopping close, pecking at the glass. He knows his victory; this little finch must know San’s stuck between a rock and a hard pillow. The shame of Yeosang snitching on him for hunting birds, or the shame of not catching his sworn enemy. He’s won, but only based on this dilemma. “I’m going to take a nap. Watch the birds for me, make sure they don’t break in.”
Yeosang looks at him incredulously, but he nods and stays seated on the floor as San stands and stretches, swiping at the window and leaving smugly when the finch panics and flaps away. He might have won this time, but next time San will have him ashamed. “Sleep well, Sannie,” Yeosang says softly, and San decides that he won’t sleep well out of spite.
Unfortunately, he does sleep very well.
He wraps himself in Wooyoung’s big teddy bear blanket, nuzzling up to his pillows and holding one of his many plushies and sleeping soundly, dreaming of birds and mice and fish, all waiting patiently to be caught and begrudgingly released. He dreams of that little jingly ball Yeosang had been playing with, following it down into a nest full of soft, squishy cushions, nothing like dogs or cars or Wooyoung’s big vacuum cleaner to worry about.
He wakes purring, the sound of the little ball still twinkling in his head, relaxing enough for him to knead the blankets for a moment. The sun is still up; he’ll have plenty of time to nap again before Wooyoung is home, and it will be evident that he’s been good and not mean.
And then he opens his eyes to see Yeosang sitting in the doorway, playing with that little ball.
“What are you doing?” he asks sleepily, apparently bringing him out of a jingle-induced trance by the way he jumps and looks at San with wide eyes, his tail still wagging against all odds. He looks small, in a strange way. He’s bigger than San in most ways, and definitely stronger (San has seen the way his muscles look when he lifts things for Wooyoung, and they’re toned to a terrifying degree), but he has a way of looking like a puppy more often than not. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”
“You.. I’m not allowed in this room, am I?” Yeosang says softly, and there’s no hint of spite like there would be in San’s tone if the roles were reversed, and immediately it makes him wilt a little in bed. His tail still wags against the door, and it’s suddenly very apparent that he’s sitting just outside the bedroom, intent on being well behaved. “I didn’t want you to be alone, just in case something happened.”
San pouts, wiggling a little so he’s not in the middle of the bed, still very much in the patch of sunlight streaming through the window. “Come in, no point sitting on the floor,” he huffs softly, deciding to himself that he’s only inviting him in because it’ll be a big sign of him being good to Wooyoung, and nothing to do with how Yeosang’s round little face lights up at the offer. He pushes himself up, leaving the little ball beyond the door in his haste to join San on the bed. “We can cuddle, if you want. Keep me warm.”
Yeosang clearly takes the invitation very seriously; he settles behind San carefully, resting an arm over his waist and holding him for a moment, pulling him carefully close when San nods in approval, and oh , he’s so warm . Neither of them address the fact that this is the first time that they’ve really had physical contact since Yeosang moved in, or the sound of Yeosang’s tail thumping against the bed as it wags. “Thank you,” he murmurs against San’s ear, and San can’t keep his own tail from flicking against Yeosang’s belly as he wiggles and settles.
It takes a while to relax, mostly because Yeosang remains stiff for too long, afraid of overstepping or doing something he shouldn’t. San guides him with impatient hands, pushing his hips back to slot against Yeosang’s like he’s done with Wooyoung a thousand times, taking his big, hot hand and holding it, guiding him to hold San well and not like he’s made of glass. With enough teaching, Yeosang is a good big spoon. Almost Wooyoung’s level, physically. What he lacks in confidence, he makes up tenfold in warmth.
To attribute a good nap to the position would be silly; San always naps well, and he’s never needed help with napping. Wooyoung’s bed is comfortable, but San has slept well on the couch, or the spare bed, or on the big fluffy rug, or in the grass outside in the summer. Yeosang is a similar addition to the nap routine; welcome, and helpful, but certainly not necessary. His sleepy little snuffles are comforting, though, enough to lull San in and out of sleep beyond another full hour, leaving him languid and cosy in the puppy’s arms. It’s nice . New, but nice.
He sleeps all the way through Wooyoung getting home, grumbling when his blissful comfort is disturbed by poking at his cheek and petting at the base of his ears, flicking and turning over to bury himself in close, welcoming warmth. He mewls when the base of his tail receives scratches, pressing closer and purring through the comfort, enjoying being held and loved and fussed over.
“Sannie,” Wooyoung’s voice is accompanied by a dip in the bed, and San’s tail wraps lazily around his wrist when it rests on the bed, flicking slowly. He wraps his own arms around Yeosang’s waist, definitely only interested in stealing his heat for longer. “Sannie, I brought chicken home. You wanna eat?”
San peeks his head out of the warm cushion of Yeosang’s chest, looking blearily over his shoulder and chirping quietly at Wooyoung. He rolls slowly out of Yeosang’s embrace, stretching and shuddering through a lazy yawn. “Mhm, feed me,” he nods, licking his lips and nudging his head against Wooyoung’s arm, purring contentedly when he receives his well deserved pats.
For the next few weeks, the days melt together in a sunny blur, mostly the same aside for the mailman dropping by with some new clothes for Wooyoung’ (and two slices of cake, sadly only one of them making its way to San’s belly) and the changing of the seeds for the birds. Yeosang seems to catch on to San’s enjoyment of the little jingly ball, because he shares it a lot and doesn’t whine when San bats it around the living room on his own.
Napping does get a lot cosier with Yeosang’s presence. San has decided he’s definitely only letting him join because he’s so comfortable, and he doesn’t complain when San takes all the blankets for himself, and he lets San guide their cuddling. Wooyoung was right in that regard, he is a very good boy when it comes to being bossed around.
San’s interest slowly shifts, mostly because if Yeosang is going to be sticking around, he can’t be so puppy-ish, not if San is in charge. He knows better than to cut his hair or trim the fluffier parts of his tail, not after The Incident that resulted in Wooyoung hiding all the scissors in the house for a few months, but he does feel confident in his own grooming skills to find a comb and sit Yeosang down on the living room floor, tutting at how he just keeps wagging .
“So they don’t know what else you are, besides a doberman?” San hums as he carefully spritzes Yeosang’s tail with a little water, brushing through the sleek fluff and pursing his lips when Yeosang confirms with a shake of his head that’s passionate enough to make his little ears flop. San doesn’t know much about breeds of dog, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to live in a home with someone who had pure Big Dog Energy. “Maybe one of the little dogs. Like a chihuahua, or a pom. The white spots in your tail are.. kind of like those little white puppies.”
Thinking about it, the way Yeosang’s ears like to flop are also very reminiscent of them, too. Maybe they could get a test, like the one that told San he had a lot of birman DNA. “No, I don’t think so,” Yeosang hums, his tail unhelpfully thump thump thumping against San’s thigh each time he tries to comb near the base of it. “My last family said they don’t think smaller breeds would be so passionate about working out. Maybe a samoyed, they said.”
San crinkles his nose. He knows the house across the street owns an actual samoyed dog, and he’s sweet, but he’s big and too excitable, and San would not like Yeosang at all if he was anything like that breathing cloud. Not that he likes him now, at all. “No, that can’t be right. It’s silly for them to think little dog crosses can’t be buff. It’s like cat breed stereotypes,” he hums, stopping his combing for a moment to just watch how Yeosang keeps wagging his tail like a never ending wind maker. “Like, my mom was a siamese cross, so by that I should be aggressive and unfriendly. And I’m not, am I?”
“No, definitely not,” Yeosang agrees, his voice sounding a little strained. Probably because San has stopped his touching. “You let me sleep in your bed, and watch the birds with you, and.. anyway, I guess doberman is just the main one, considering that’s the part they know most about. So it doesn’t really matter.”
“Doberman puppies don’t have fluff,” San argues, scratching lightly along Yeosang’s tail and giggling at how he squirms, even more sensitive than San is by his reaction. “See? Fluffy little puppy genes, a big mean doberman wouldn’t be so cute.”
“I’m not a puppy!” Yeosang pouts, leaning back into San’s lap and panting when the bases of his ears are petted and scratched, pressing his face close against San’s thigh. He’s very puppy-ish for someone who isn’t a puppy, especially when he wets his lips and his tongue, sweet and pink, stays out for a little too long. San squeezes one of his cheeks. “You’re more kitten than I’m puppy.”
“I’m not in denial about being a kitten. You’re not a very scary dog, are you? So you’re a puppy~” San teases, gasping when Yeosang tries to bite at his hand and frowning at him. “Now that’s just rude. I’ll have to tell Wooyoung if you’re gonna attack your poor housemate, and then you’ll be punished~”
Yeosang flips himself over to rest on his tummy, nipping lightly at San’s thigh and wagging his whole body when San pouts and pulls at his hair, very clearly playing. He’s honestly missed the back and forth nature of playing; Wooyoung doesn’t play, and Yunho and Mingi were far too big and loud for him to want to play, but Yeosang seems like a nice middle ground. San lowers himself, biting gently at Yeosang’s floppy ear and shrieking when the puppy suddenly pushes forward and pins him to the rug.
“What are you- eugh !” San whines when Yeosang licks at his jaw, nuzzling his nose at the same spot as he comfortably straddles San, heavy and warm. San’s cheeks heat up when he notices just how excited Yeosang is about the new position, ignoring how the thought draws coiling heat in his belly and choosing to push him a little instead, pleased with how he flops to let San take control and get on top of him. “You can’t just lick people without consent. Bad puppy!”
For a moment, Yeosang pouts like he’s been wounded, though his tail continues to thump against the rug in a blatant giveaway. “Can I lick you, kitty?” he asks after a moment of silence, smiling when San’s cheeks flush, smug. Even as San pushes him again and scowls, he very clearly thinks he’s won something, a soft giggle leaving his lips when San leans up to nip at his ear.
They continue for a while longer, flipping positions and nipping and licking, until San is out of breath and in need of another nap. Yeosang is beside him on the floor, panting and waiting to be straddled and watching San with big, sweet eyes, smiling when San shakes his head and rests his cheek against his arm. For someone so muscular, Yeosang is very soft to lay on. As much as he hates to admit it, Wooyoung did a very good job finding him. San hooks himself around Yeosang and hums softly, rubbing his cheek against the warm flesh of his arm and chirping when the base of his tail is rubbed in slow circles.
“I didn’t mean it,” San says quietly against Yeosang’s side, allowing a yawn to shudder through his body and purring when Yeosang continues to pet him. He half-heartedly returns the favour, kneading lazily at his waist and finding a quiet sense of satisfaction when Yeosang’s tail wags against the floor. “You’re not bad. I wouldn’t tolerate you if you were a bad puppy.”
Yeosang stifles a yawn after San lets another one shake him, nosing at San’s hair and making a sweet, small noise. “Thank you,” he hums, and San tuts and presses closer, pressing a kiss to Yeosang’s side and burying his face there. “Do you wanna sleep? We shouldn’t sleep on the floor, you’ll get hurt.”
San’s stomach twists a little as he nods, making no effort to move from how he’s trapping Yeosang against the rug. “s’fine,” he insists, too comfortable to consider the misery of standing and walking all the way to the bedroom. “I’ve slept here before, it’s not bad. Rug’s comfy.”
A few moments later, Yeosang is sitting up and ruining San’s plans of using him as a mattress, shaking the sleep out of his own system and tucking his arms around San’s back and under his knees when he’s half standing. He’s about to protest when Yeosang lifts him like he’s still as light as a kitten, wrapping his arms instinctively around the puppy’s neck and only sulking a little as he’s carried to the couch. It’s a journey of maybe ten steps at most, but there’s something about how warm Yeosang is, how easily he carries San, that just lulls him further into sleepiness.
The couch is big enough for them both, and San is relieved when Yeosang immediately settles to smush him between the cushions and himself. He wiggles himself to face Yeosang, planting his face between Yeosang’s pectorals and wrapping himself around him, his tail batting against the couch cushions as he settles. It’s like sleeping on a pillowy heating pad.
It’s the first time that Yeosang falls asleep before San does, and oh , he’s sweet enough that it’s almost upsetting to watch him. He’s a very passive, peaceful puppy; gentle natured to a fault, especially where San is concerned, but there’s something even softer about him when he’s asleep. His cheeks are just a little bit round, like little mochi, and every so often his nose crinkles up as he shifts closer. No matter how tentatively, he still holds San’s waist, keeping him close.
“Good boy,” San murmurs, smiling when it’s evident that some part of Yeosang registers his praise as his tail wags, nuzzling his cheek against the cushions. He’s very endearing, at least, even if he’s a dog. San doesn’t really sleep as much as he just settles, content with resting against Yeosang and listening to his strong heartbeat, trailing his fingers along his waist and taking in every twitch, every quiet noise.
Strangely, it’s Wooyoung that ruins the peace that San settles into, despite him being the one attempting to enforce friendship. “So,” he says the next evening, after Yeosang has headed to bed with a longing gaze at San, “You’re giving each other hickeys now?”
“What’s that?” San asks, frowning at Wooyoung and his terrible, smug face. As much as he adores him with all of his heart, Wooyoung can really be a bitch when he wants to be. He comes closer, tapping San’s neck where he knows Yeosang had left a little bruise with their play fighting. “This is a hickey?”
“Yeah. Remember that time you got mad that the cashier looked at me, and you bit my neck and sucked until it was purple? That’s it,” Wooyoung informs him as he folds up one of the blankets on the couch, setting it down on the armchair when it’s a quarter of it’s full size. “It’s a sign that you like each other. I’m almost jealous~”
“We were just playing,” San huffs, clicking the little table lamp off to hide the warmth in his cheeks, intent on keeping it some kind of secret. Sure, he likes Yeosang a little more. Yes, he’s sweet and warm and kind, and he holds San like he weighs no more than a bag of feathers, and he shares things and lets San take the best spot to watch the birds. But he’s not like, crushing or anything. “It’s not anything serious. Besides, didn’t you want us to get along?”
Wooyoung tuts softly, taking San’s face in his hands and kissing his lips and cheeks, cooing at San’s huffing. “Sulky. I’m glad you like each other, I really am. I care about you both, I don’t like keeping things all separate,” he hums, adding another notch to San’s post of guilt. He’s seen how Wooyoung and Yeosang spend quiet moments together, how they’re comfortable in each other’s space like San is with.. well, with both of them. San glances at the door to Yeosang’s room, then back at Wooyoung’s face in the low light, shifting a little in his place on the couch. “San?”
“Could.. could Yeosang come into bed tonight?” San asks, his voice shaking a little as he realises that he definitely wants Yeosang next to them both. Wooyoung smiles and nods, drawing him into another soft kiss before making his way to the master bedroom. “Where are you going?”
“You can ask him yourself, can’t you? Big, brave kitty,” Wooyoung teases, disappearing beyond the bedroom door and leaving San with his own thoughts. He looks at the coffee table, where Yeosang’s filing is waiting underneath rehearsal plans and layouts to be stored away. In such a short time, Yeosang has carved out a place for himself in Wooyoung and San’s home, in their hearts. Part of him aches to think that it hasn’t been this way forever.
He slips into the laundry room first, fishing out his newly tumble-dried collection of plushies and deciding that the little threadbare orange cat is a good offering. Naturally, he rubs his face all over it first, sure to make it smell like him. Personal gifts are nicer, like that terribly made pot that Wooyoung keeps out in the kitchen because his friend made it for him. San didn’t make the little marmalade cat, but he has loved him lots, and now he smells like him again. Making a pot probably wouldn’t be a good idea anyway, not with his undeniable urge to push things over, and Yeosang’s tail putting every breakable thing in danger.
San knocks at the door when he’s sure the plushie is thoroughly Sanned, creaking it open and smiling softly when Yeosang calls permission. It’s the first time he’s seen him before bed, all sleepy eyed and floppy eared, in just a loose fitting t-shirt that San recognises from Wooyoung’s wardrobe and a pair of flannel pants that.. are also from Wooyoung’s wardrobe. They have similar tastes, then.
“Hi,” San starts, and Yeosang says it at the same time and they both giggle nervously. Yeosang’s room is sweet, but it isn’t nearly as personal as it should be, in San’s opinion; there aren’t any big blankets or plushies, there’s no feeling of it being Yeosang’s . There’s a nice little plant on the windowsill, and a small suitcase open to Yeosang’s belongings, but they aren’t strewn about the place like San’s things are. San likes flaunting his place in the house, comfortable with asserting that he lives here and that this is his home, too. He’ll have to help Yeosang be more bold, then. “Do you, um. Uh.”
And just like that, his own boldness fails him. He’s never had to invite Wooyoung anywhere; he usually just flops where he wants attention, and waits patiently to receive it. “Is everything okay?” Yeosang asks, glancing at the cat plush in San’s hand and cocking his head to the side. “San?”
San raises his hand in an offering, nodding emphatically when Yeosang reaches and smiling when he takes the cat from him, his own fluffy tail swishing a little when Yeosang holds it close and squeezes gently. “I was wondering if you maybe would wanna come sleep with me and Wooyoung tonight,” San lets the words fall out of his mouth before he can get nervous about asking, aching with how Yeosang’s eye widen, how his whole body softens as his tail begins wagging once again. “I’d really like it. Wooyoung would too, but it was my idea, since we’ve been cuddling and stuff. If you’re comfortable with it, y’know, because-”
Yeosang stops him from embarrassing himself with a sudden hug, making San squeak with the force of just how happy he is. He wraps his arms around Yeosang’s waist, nuzzling gently at his neck and flushing at the thought of the little marks they’d made on each other the day before, then further at the thought of making more. “I really want to, Sannie, thank you,” Yeosang sounds choked up as he speaks into San’s shoulder, sniffling and nosing at his throat when it’s bared a little. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s okay, I just really want you with us,” San insists quietly, tucking his face in the warm crook of Yeosang’s neck and melting into his embrace when the base of his tail is rubbed slowly, purring against him. He’d never imagined feeling so safe with a dog hybrid, so calm and held and comforted, but Yeosang is so undeniably kind , with far more patience than San himself cares to have. “You’re a good boy, Yeosangie. Really, really good.”
He pulls back for a moment, moving to hold Yeosang’s face and neck like Wooyoung has done so many times with him, glancing over his face and wetting his lips. “Can I kiss you, San?” Yeosang breathes, his eyes locked on San’s lips, his heart racing enough that San can feel it beneath his fingertips, strong. He nods, finding that he’s holding his own breath until Yeosang slowly pushes so he’s pressed against the door, whimpering quietly as Yeosang hovers close, waiting for San to take back his consent, for things to turn.
But San won’t say no, not when his own sense of desire finally settles in his tummy and twirls until he feels sick with anticipation, holding himself taught like a coiled spring. “Please,” he whispers, gasping softly when Yeosang’s lips meet his, and again, he’s gentle enough that San could cry. It’s chaste; nothing like San has grown used to with Wooyoung, and it fills San with both the fluttery need for more and the longing to stay a while in soft, sweet pecks.
Yeosang’s lips are smooth, and he tastes faintly of peppermint tea and those little strawberry candies from the cabinet, and he holds San’s waist carefully when he arches his back away from the door, swiping his tongue along San’s bottom lip and drawing it between his teeth for a brief nip at his flesh. San whines quietly, trailing a hand down to rest at Yeosang’s pectoral and squeezing idly, half kneading until their lips meet once again, this time with the promise of a flick from Yeosang’s tongue every so often.
When San finally caves and darts his own tongue out to meet Yeosang’s, the mood shifts ever so slightly. His tail is still wagging, but it’s slower now, more controlled. This is the first time Yeosang has seemed more than an excitable puppy, and a thrill runs through San’s spine at the thought of other moods Yeosang might have that he can push and prod to explore. “Yeosang-ah,” he breathes softly as Yeosang moves to stand flush against him, his face flushing when he feels just how interested Yeosang is, pressing against his thigh. “Yeosang, I wanna.. please..”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Yeosang murmurs against San’s lips, cooing when San mewls and keens for more, too impatient for his own good. Their kisses become more desperate with the slow grind of San’s hips against Yeosang’s, taking turns to lick into each other’s mouths and feel each other’s bodies with trembling hands, eager and needy. “We should.. Wooyoung will worry.”
Still, neither of them move to leave the little spare room, instead Yeosang’s lips travel down towards San’s throat, leaving little sucking kisses and nipping at the already bruised flesh of his neck. San leans his head back against the door, biting his bottom lip and draping his hands over Yeosang’s shoulders as he’s sucked and bitten at, basking in the attention and keening when one of Yeosang’s hands palms at his cock, only driving him further to desperation.
They both pause when there’s a knock behind San’s head, Yeosang’s head cocking to the side as San’s ears flick up in interest, chirping softly when Wooyoung calls a soft “hello?” from beyond the door. They both move swiftly, Yeosang using the little tangerine cat to keep his hands busy as San opens the door, looking at Wooyoung with wide eyes. There’s no way to make this look casual. “I was wondering if you’d got lost on the way to bed. Am I interrupting something~?”
“Yeosang was just about to come in, actually,” San chirps, leaning into Yeosang’s side and beaming when his tail picks up its wagging once again, nosing at his neck and resting his head against his shoulder. “If that’s okay, obviously. And if Yeosangie is comfortable with-”
“Yes,” Yeosang says quickly, the three of them giggling softly at his hastiness of his answer. It feels good, even if San has to fight the urge to demand Wooyoung’s physical touch, instead obeying when he turns and cocks his head for the two to follow his lead towards the bedroom. A new kind of normal, one that San can see himself getting used to very quickly. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
San nods emphatically, practically pushing past Wooyoung to get to the bed and flopping in the centre of it, slipping his t-shirt up and off and vibrating in wait. He watches as Wooyoung draws Yeosang into a slow kiss, a gentle insistence that this is okay, that he’s allowed to be here with them, that he’s welcome. “Is puppy overwhelmed?” San coos softly, sitting up a little and cocking his head when Yeosang nods slowly, his cheeks pink. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, pup, not if it’s too much. We can just snuggle, right, Wooyoung?”
“Of course, darling. We love you, okay? And we want you to be comfortable, and happy,” Wooyoung says softly, kissing Yeosang’s cheeks and smiling when the puppy makes a gentle noise of thanks, and San’s heart flips at just how badly he wants to hold him. “Can you use your words for us, baby?”
“Wanna feel good,” Yeosang whines, letting Wooyoung lead him to the bed and sitting at the edge of it, leaning in when San draws him close and kissing him greedily, setting the little cat plush down in favour of planting both his hands on San’s thighs. He moves closer, then lays down when San guides them both to the pillows, pressing close once again and glancing over San's naked torso, very gently holding his waist. "San.. I, um.."
San nods and purrs softly, glancing up at Wooyoung and smiling in invitation for him to join them on the bed, knowing full well it's what they both want. "I'm gonna take these down, okay, Yeosangie?" San says softly as he rests a hand at the waistband of Yeosang's pyjama pants, pushing them down when he nods and doing his best to remain composed at the sight of his cock, hard and pink and waiting for attention. "Oh, gosh.. You're so big, puppy, hm?"
Yeosang flushes red at that, stammering and whimpering softly when San strokes two fingers over his cock, trailing them over his slit and giggling softly at how easily he's affected, his tail swishing and resting at his exposed thigh. San pushes his own loose fitting pants down with a little shimmy, biting his lip and leaning in to kiss Yeosang in an attempt to ignore how his belly twists at just how much bigger Yeosang's cock is than his own pretty little one, maybe around the same size as Wooyoung's. Though he's fine about not being fucked tonight, he'll definitely let himself dream about it tonight, and likely every night after that until he actually experiences it.
A wide, hot hand wraps around both San and Yeosang's cocks, and he assumes it must be Yeosang's doing as they continue kissing messily, grinding into the feeling and swallowing every sweet whimper from the pup beside him. "You're both so sweet, aren't you, hm?" Wooyoung croons from above them, resting a hand at San's thigh and squeezing gently. "And you're both good, so good for me. You're gonna tell me when you're close, aren't you? Tell your master when you need to cum for him, there's my good boys."
When San looks down, his head swims with a sudden, sick desire at the realisation that it's Wooyoung touching them, and that San's cock looks even smaller when it's pressed flush to Yeosang's and already leaking, throbbing with the attention. God, it's shameful that it's taken this long for them to do this together.
"You're so pretty, Yeosang," San breathes, feeling smug when Yeosang whimpers gently and bucks his hips into Wooyoung's touch, rutting against San's cock and sending a jolt of pleasure through him. With shaking hands, San pushes his shirt up to get a better look at him, drinking in the full body flush he has, his chest a sweet, warm pink from his embarrassment. "Oh, puppy.. good, good puppy, aren't you? So cute, so sweet and nice, so well behaved.. kitty's favourite, hm~?"
"Ah- San-" Yeosang stops and starts, his voice already strained from the attention, and he buries his face in the crook of San's neck and busies his mouth for a moment, his right hand finding the base of San's tail to fuss over while the left pets at the base of his ears, making San squeak and twitch. He presses closer, gripping weakly at Yeosang's waist and holding him tightly, fluttering his eyes closed and huffing softly, slowly grinding his hips into Wooyoung's hand and letting out a stifled moan. "m'getting close, please.."
San and Wooyoung both coo in tandem, giggling quietly at how he groans and begins really rutting into it, panting quietly and letting San guide him into another messy kiss, their tongues gliding idly together. He's so pretty, and when San draws back he can't help the dreamy sigh that leaves his lips at just how dazed Yeosang looks already, starry eyed and slick lipped, basking in the fluffy bliss of pleasure. "I think he can cum if he wants to, Wooyoungie," San decides, gasping when Yeosang's fingers hit the perfect spot behind his ears and rolling his hips again, blinking rapidly and swallowing hard. "Please, can't he? I'm close too, and we've b- we're good, aren't we? So, so good for our master~!"
"Mhm, yes you are," Wooyoung coos as he keeps his hand moving, swiping his thumb over both their slits in turn and making a soft noise of praise at each other their whimpers, chuckling gently at how they press impossibly closer to each other, clinging and whining. San nips at the base of Yeosang's throat, licking at the thick vein at the side of his neck to feel his pulse, hard and heavy and ever steady. "You can cum, then, go on. Since you're both so well behaved."
Permission is all it takes for San to tilt over the edge, gasping and mewling as he releases into Wooyoung's hand and over his own abdomen, pressing close again to paint Yeosang's with some of his release, possessive and needy for the puppy to be his, even if just for a moment. "Cum for me, puppy, please," San breathes, knowing Wooyoung's hand won't stop until Yeosang has reached his peak. And while he's never said no to multiple orgasms, a selfish, proud part of him doesn't want Yeosang to see him fall apart just yet, not during the first time they've been together like this. "Ah-.. please, I'm.. fuck, Yeosang-ah!"
He's already shaking, but mercifully it only takes a few more strokes from Wooyoung's hand until Yeosang spills over, and oh he's so pretty when he cums, gasping and trembling in San's hands as he ruts his hips weakly through it, his tail thumping against the bed. "Good boys, there we go," Wooyoung praises, slowing his hand and tutting when San falls completely limp against the mattress, panting like he's run a half marathon instead of having one orgasm, nosing at Yeosang's throat and twitching. "You're both so pretty, aren't you? Pretty, perfect boys.. Yeosang, baby, you're alright, you're safe. Can you look at me?"
Yeosang smiles like he's tipsy, gazing up at Wooyoung like he's made of stars and blinking slowly when the base of one of his ears is scratched and fussed slowly, content and sleepy after his orgasm. The second Wooyoung moves his hand from both of their cocks, San pushes him to lay on his back, tucking himself close and purring loudly on top of him, enjoying how the thump of his tail compliments his heartbeat. "Pretty, pretty puppy," he says softly, giggling at how Yeosang looks so taken aback by his compliments. “So good for us, so lovely. Thank you, Yeosangie~”
They kiss for a while longer, until the bed dips again and Wooyoung is very tentatively parting them, cleaning them both up with a warm cloth and pressing sweet kisses to their cheeks, cooing when it’s evident Yeosang is mostly asleep. San pulls his t-shirt back down slowly, watching as Wooyoung carefully pulls his pyjama pants back on, keeping him nice and warm. “Sweet, good boy,” Wooyoung murmurs softly as he pulls the blankets over both Yeosang and San, smiling when his tail gives a weak thump against the bed, pleased as ever about the praise. “You wanna sleep, hm?”
“Mhm,” Yeosang nods, closing his eyes and flopping comfortably, allowing San full access to spoon him and hold him nicely. His abdomen is toned, but there’s still a softness to it that feels prime to be kneaded, something which San makes a mental note of for later. “Thank you.. thank you, Sannie.”
“S’okay, puppy. I love you,” San says softly, his own heart fluttering when the words come easily, and of course Yeosang’s tail wags against his tummy. Wooyoung settles himself on Yeosang’s other side, kissing him sweetly and shimmying under the blankets, clicking the light off as a second thought.
“My good boys.. I love you both, so much,” Wooyoung hums, and San can hear the smile in his tone, the fondness that’s been making him melt for years, now more than ever. San sleeps with love in his heart, arms full of warmth and Yeosang’s sweet, slow breathing lulling him to dream.
And when he wakes in the morning to find Yeosang has turned over and is holding him again, and one of his ears has flopped upright, San knows he would do anything for him.