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Sangwoo never realised he had a thing for bigger guys, but lately he's been obsessing over the size of Jaeyoung’s hands more often than he thinks might be healthy.
Things he’d never considered could make his heart race are suddenly overwhelmingly, ridiculously, hot when it comes to his boyfriend. Even before they got together, Sangwoo couldn’t help but let his mind wander when Sangwoo was right there, doodling on his notepad in class next to him, the pen that looked normal lying on the table suddenly tiny in his grip.
He’d suppressed it back then, of course. Had pushed it down and told himself that Jaeyoung’s size was just another one of the annoying things about him, along with his playful personality, good looks and designing talents. When Sangwoo thinks back to those first few months now he can barely believe he managed to deny himself his own feelings for so long.
Sangwoo remembers the first time he’d really lost his nerve, when Jaeyoung had pulled him in between rows of dresses in the costume department at university and had towered over him in the dark. He'd snapped, then, hardly able to breathe until he reached the bathrooms on the other side of the building, but what had caused him to run away that day hadn't just been Jaeyoung’s physical power, or the way that he’d easily caged him in against the row of coats and looked at him like he wanted to swallow him whole. No, what had really rattled Sangwoo was the realisation that he liked it.
He’d shut himself in a bathroom stall and hyperventilated until he wasn’t hard anymore, and then he’d walked home confused and frustrated. That night was the first time he’d jerked off thinking of Jaeyoung’s big, stupid, hands and his impossibly wide shoulders, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It’s still his go-to thought when he has ten minutes spare in his very busy schedule to get off, except now he gets to pull up real memories when he’s got his hand wrapped around his dick under the covers, eyes shut against the morning sun that peeks in through his curtains.
Now, of course, he has first hand experience of Jaeyoung’s physicality, and, honestly, Sangwoo is a little bit worried it’s ruined him for life, because he can’t go back to not knowing. He didn’t even use his trial period, just bought into the full version, complete with pet names, hand-holding, mind-numbingly good sex. What was he thinking?
What’s even worse is that this game comes with new levels. They emerge every day— public displays of affection are a fairly recent challenge but Jaeyoung asks for Sangwoo's permission to touch him every single time they're in public, and then there’s the phone-sex, which Sangwoo doesn’t quite grasp at first, thinks it seems pointless when he could just close his eyes and imagine Jaeyoung fucking him and not need to use up the minutes on his phone plan. Luckily, Jaeyoung is a patient teacher, and it isn’t long before Sangwoo understands the appeal.
Still, all the phone sex in the world doesn’t top being topped by Jaeyoung himself. It doesn't even come close.
Sangwoo struggles to concentrate on the email he’s composing to the prospective new designer he wants to work with on his next project. He is acutely aware of the size of Jaeyoung’s hands while he works at his own laptop next to him, his fingers barely stretching to reach the keys at the top corner of the keyboard.
A few times, Jaeyoung picks up his phone to check on something with one hand, and continues typing with the other, his hand moving effortlessly over the whole keyboard, the span of his hand almost covering it. Sangwoo imagines the same hand around the span of his throat. He swallows the imaginary lump in his throat. It's a fairly routine morning together.
“You’re staring.” Jaeyoung stops typing and looks at Sangwoo, furrowing his brow in concern. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” Sangwoo blushes.
Jaeyoung considers this. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Sangwoo can’t. “No,” he says. “I mean– we need to finish our work.” He gestures towards his laptop, except he’s been so distracted for so long that it’s gone into standby mode already, which is embarrassing. Neither of them will get anything more done if he admits he’s been daydreaming about sex. It's not that Jaeyoung would tease him (okay, maybe he would a little), but he'd definitely forget about the work they need to get done, and they do need to get some work done.
Jaeyoung smiles. “Will you tell me later?”
“I don’t know. I might,” Sangwoo tells him. This is one part of being in a relationship that has really tested him - talking about feelings, about needs and wants, and the things he thinks about that seem private. It's not that he doesn't want to try, after all Sangwoo has experienced what not being honest is like, and he doesn’t want to feel that way again, all up inside his own head, denying them both a good thing, so he is trying. Still, they don't talk about sex a lot. There's something instinctive about the way Jaeyoung moves, like he's already inside Sangwoo's head sometimes, knows what to do to make him feel like his skin is on fire.“I can’t promise anything.”
“That’s okay.” Jaeyoung’s gaze is full of warmth. “You look really cute today.”
Sangwoo huffs. Jaeyoung’s arsenal is full of weapons and compliments is one of them. Sometimes the power that Jaeyoung has over him scares him, not that it’s Jaeyoung’s fault. He’s just being himself, and, really, he’d probably freak out if he knew how close to a total mental shutdown Sangwoo can get in moments like this when Jaeyoung is all up in his space, reaching over to brush his hair from his face.
“Stop that or I’ll put my cap on,” he says, but he doesn’t even have it with him.
Jaeyoung’s new apartment isn’t as messy as his studio used to be, which Sangwoo may or may not take credit for. He’s there quite often, though, so he must have some influence over the space. Sometimes Jaeyoung threatens not to let him leave, which is– he’s joking, of course, just a silly comment at the front door when they’re saying goodbye, but Sangwoo sometimes wants to take him up on it.
It really is scary how much Sangwoo would let Jaeyoung take from him now, and some nights, when they’re in bed together, Jaeyoung’s leg thrown over Sangwoo's as he breathes softly in his sleep, Sangwoo wonders if there’s something wrong with him to feel so much for one person. He’s never felt so much for anyone, he didn’t know you could. It’s definitely irrational.
He’d mentioned it to Yuna once, eating lunch with her one day while Jaeyoung was away for work, and she’d scoffed at him, waved her spoon threateningly and had said, “That’s called being in love, Sangwoo-ah.”
He hadn’t denied it, but he’d not confirmed her suspicions either. He still can’t be sure what love is– how could he? He has nothing to compare it against, and that’s what is so unnerving. Love can’t be quantified, it isn’t even rational. It can’t be— it’s not rational to miss someone who you spent all morning with, and yet, here he is, feeling sad that Jaeyoung isn’t beside him three hours after he left to grab lunch with some of his colleagues Maybe if Jaeyoung was leaving for good there’d be a better argument for the way he feels, Sangwoo thinks, but in less than an hour they’ll be together again.
Sangwoo finishes up working for the day, and showers slowly. It’s not something he used to do— not to say he’d ever skip any part of his cleaning regime, he even washes his legs which he’s read is grossly uncommon— but these days he allows himself more time, less efficiency. He stands under the water for a few minutes, rolling his shoulders, eyes closed, and thinks of the way Jaeyoung's chest had covered his whole back when he'd slid up behind him in the kitchen yesterday and had put his head on Sangwoo's shoulder, weighing him down. Sangwoo had felt caged in, kind of like that day in the costume department, but it hadn't scared him so much as it had made him have to bite back a smile. It had felt good.
Jaeyoung doesn’t forget their conversation from the morning.
That night, they cosy up on Jaeyoung’s sofa, half-watching a movie. Sangwoo is getting better at doing stuff like this– just being together, for the sake of it. He likes it, even though part of him still feels antsy, like he should be doing something. Jaeyoung shifts until he’s lying with his head in Sangwoo’s lap, his legs dangling off the end of the sofa. It doesn’t look comfortable.
“Hey you.” Jaeyoung looks up at him. He’s so gorgeous, Sangwoo can barely understand how.
“You don’t look comfortable,” he says.
“I’m very comfortable.” Jaeyoung grins. “So, do you want to talk about why you spent all morning staring at my hands?”
Sangwoo scowls. “That is a gross exaggeration. It was five minutes at most.”
Jaeyoung laughs. “If you say so, boss," he says, but he looks pleased with himself for even getting Sangwoo to discuss the topic for a minute.
Sangwoo says, “Your hands are really big.” It's a fact. Jaeyoung's hands are really big, and that's not an inherently sexual thought, and yet it's completely sexual at the same time. Sangwoo wishes he'd kept his mouth shut.
"Wow." Now Jaeyoung is actually wiggling his eyebrows at him. “Just my hands?”
He’s truly created a monster.
“I'm just explaining—that’s why I was staring this morning.” Sangwoo blushes. “I was thinking about your hands, that’s all. Now, can we just continue watching the movie?”
“What specifically were you thinking about my hands?” Jaeyoung asks. He always wants specifics, he’s always coaxing feelings and thoughts out of Sangwoo, but it’s always done with a gentleness and a silent understanding that if Sangwoo doesn’t feel comfortable having a conversation they can end it.
Sangwoo doesn't end it. “Just…How they feel on me. They're big.” He has to look away, then. He knows he’s turned pink in the cheeks, knows he looks ruffled. He is ruffled. “Compared to mine. Compared to me.”
“Oh, baby.” Jaeyoung sits up then, swings his legs back over the sofa and immediately leans in. “You should have just said so this morning.”
“We had work to do."
“We always have work to do, baby.” Jaeyoung cups his jaw with his big, stupid hand, his stupid voice silky-smooth. “I’d still rather be fucking you, every single time.”
“I know.” Sangwoo whispers. His mouth is dry. “That’s the problem.”
“Hmm.” Jaeyoung’s lips are only a hair's breadth away from his now. “Well, we don’t have work to do now, do we?”
Sangwoo knows he’s failing to look unaffected, but he’s at least going to try to hold onto some semblance of his pride. “No, but we started this movie...“
“You aren't watching the movie. I'm definitely not watching the movie."
"No?"
"No." He shakes his head. "No, I'm thinking about kissing you. Sound good?"
Sangwoo nods. He isn’t going to win this argument, not when he’s been sucker-punched by a kiss request. Luckily, the movie wasn’t particularly interesting, but even if it was, it’d be nothing compared to this— Jaeyoung so close, Jaeyoung’s hand near his mouth, tipping his chin up a little and looking down at him. His eyes are dark and he’s so fucking big, and Sangwoo knows it’s not logical, not reasonable, to feel something he can only compare to hunger, but he does feel it, he feels it so much.
He can feel Jaeyoung’s hand against his throat when he swallows, and Jaeyoung must feel it too, because he smiles knowingly before he moves in.
The noise Sangwoo makes when Jaeyoung kisses him is involuntary. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d been waiting for this all day. Or, he had, but he’d tried to ignore it so it didn’t completely distract him from getting through the day. That’s a thing, now– he thinks about his boyfriend when he should be thinking about fixing code. He daydreams, at least that’s what Yuna called it, that one time she’d caught him in a distracted thought about Jaeyoung, the way his body completely covers him when they’re spooning.
They could spoon tonight if he sleeps over, Sangwoo thinks, as Jaeyoung deepens the kiss with his tongue. It would be romantic, or something. Romance is still a concept he’s exploring. It's fairly new, and fairly ridiculous, but Sangwoo has to admit there’s something about the whole romance thing that is starting to make more sense to him. He used to think that maybe he was part computer. Not literally, of course, but figuratively it seemed to fit, and honestly, it still does most of the time, except when he’d said it once, Jaeyoung had kissed his forehead softly and had said with sincerity, “Just because we’re coded differently, doesn’t make us less human.” Then he’d pushed a strand of hair behind Sangwoo’s ear and kissed him on the mouth, and he’d felt better after that. They’d spooned that night, too.
When Jaeyoung pulls back, his neck is flushed and he’s breathless. “Wanna take this to my bedroom?” he asks. “I have new sheets and they were expensive. I want to see you on them.”
Sangwoo feels his body react to the words– a stirring of arousal in his lower belly, his mouth watering. His mouth literally waters because Jaeyoung wants to fuck him on top of his new sheets, and that’s ridiculous, but it’s happening. He nods. “Yeah, bedroom,” he manages to say. His voice comes out shaky, but Jaeyoung doesn’t make a comment, just stands up and pulls him up off the sofa, and then he’s back on Sangwoo’s body within seconds, hands at his waist, walking backwards with him towards his bedroom door, like he can’t bear to even turn away from him for a few seconds.
“I could sleep over after,” Sangwoo says, stepping on Jaeyoung’s foot by accident as they stumble towards the bedroom.
“I’d like that.” Jaeyoung smiles.
When they get into his room, he doesn’t switch on a light, but he doesn’t close the bedroom door either. The light from the living room is enough to see, and they don’t have to close the door because this is their space, private, just for them. Even so, Sangwoo is still getting used to fucking with doors open. It gives him an unsettling feeling that someone could walk in, but sometimes, when he’s lost in the feeling of Jaeyoung inside of him, he thinks he wouldn’t care even if they did. Let them see him overpowered, whimpering, laid out on his boyfriend’s bed, he thinks. Let them know his body shakes with the intensity of the way Jaeyoung fucks him. At the end of the day, Sangwoo is still the boss, as Jaeyoung calls him, even if that’s just a joke between them.
Jaeyoung takes off his clothes, and then when he's naked, all planes of tanned skin and muscle, he helps Sangwoo with his own clothes. Then he watches while Sangwoo folds his underwear and places it on the chair near the bed because he hates fumbling around for it after, and he doesn’t even seem to mind the wait. He just sits back on the bed, head tilted to the side, watching him.
“Ready?” he asks, when Sangwoo turns back to him. He reaches out. “Come here,” he says, and Sangwoo climbs onto the bed. The sheets feel cool against his bare skin, and it’s nice– grounding, even. It reminds him where he is, who he’s with. It reminds him that it’s okay to want this as much as he does, even if it feels overwhelming sometimes. Even if he never imagined feeling so intensely, needing to be touched so much it hurts to wait for it. It's a good thing, he thinks. It feels good.
Jaeyoung really did mean it when he said he wanted to see Sangwoo laid out on his sheets, because he has Sangwoo on his back underneath him, within seconds. “Hey.” He noses against Sangwoo’s cheek.
“Hey.” Sangwoo reaches up and threads his fingers through Jaeyoung’s hair. “I like the sheets.”
Jaeyoung laughs. “You really want to talk about the sheets right now?”
“I’m just saying.” Sangwoo shifts a little to get comfortable underneath Jaeyoung, who is already hard against his thigh. “I like them. I thought it might be important to you.”
Jaeyoung’s eyes are laughing, but not at him. Sangwoo wonders if his eyes do the same sometimes. “It is important,” he says. “I’m happy you like them. I like you on them, just like I knew I would.”
Jaeyoung leans in and presses a kiss to Sangwoo’s mouth, but it’s over too soon, and Sangwoo feels bereft. He can’t imagine a life without Jaeyoung’s kisses now, and that scares him so much. “Kiss me again,” he says. “Please,” and Jaeyoung obliges, kissing him deeply, opening his mouth up easily. It always seems so easy.
They stay like that for a while, just kissing, their bodies pressed together. Sangwoo allows himself to get caught up in the sensation of Jaeyoung’s tongue against his own, presses up against him, against the hardness of Jaeyoung’s cock. He’s hard too, but at the angle they’re laying, his cock isn’t touching any part of Jaeyoung’s body, which seems vaguely unfair, but only in a far away sort of way, like it barely matters. Jaeyoung’s mouth, and the way his chest is pressed against Sangwoo’s side, one nipple tickling Sangwoo’s skin, is enough to feel for now.
Feeling too much at once could be dangerous, he thinks, but then– as though he’s reading Sangwoo’s mind and wants to wreck him– Jaeyoung is reaching between their bodies, his hand between Sangwoo’s legs and he’s touching him there, adding to the sensations, making things dangerous. It’s almost too much, and he can’t see Jaeyoung’s hand but he can imagine it, the way he can wrap his fingers easily around him. Sangwoo’s pretty sure he has an average sized cock, but average means nothing compared to Jaeyoung’s physical presence, and god, it’s so good to think about, about the fact that Jaeyoung has all of him in his hand, has control of his whole body. Sangwoo moans against Jaeyoung’s kiss, but that only spurs Jaeyoung on more, has him moving back down the bed and taking him into his mouth, his hands gripping at Sangwoo’s hips, holding him against the bed with a practised ease that has Sangwoo breathless.
He thought he hated being touched, still kind of does, but not like this. He loves this, loves knowing that Jaeyoung has control of his body, that Sangwoo’s given him control, because he wants to, because he likes it. Jaeyoung treats it like an honour, which is a lot to think about while he's getting sucked off.
“Hyung.” Sangwoo tugs at Jaeyoung’s hair gently to get his attention.
Jaeyoung pulls off him, sits back on his heels. Sangwoo can’t see behind him, out of the door, but there’s a halo of light from the living room around him. “Hmm?”
“I want…You know,” Sangwoo mumbles, and, okay, maybe he is still not the best at direct conversation when it’s about wants and needs and feelings, but he doesn’t need to be right now, because Sangwoo knows what he wants at this point. They're well practised now.
"Yeah, I know, baby.” Jaeyoung chuckles, and then he pushes Sangwoo’s knees up against his chest, leans right down over him, until he’s curled up tight and Sangwoo’s cock, wet with precum, is pushed against the back of his thigh, and kisses him. “Wait there like that.”
When he comes back, he’s already rolled on a condom, and his fingers are slick with lube that drips onto his brand new sheets. Sangwoo lies back and watches him, with his knees up to his chest, his hole just there, on display, waiting. It's so embarrassing and Sangwoo can barely breathe with how little he cares.
“Warm enough?”Jaeyoung asks, pressing a finger against Sangwoo’s hole and Sangwoo nods, even though he doesn’t care about the temperature. Jaeyoung pushes his finger in upto the knuckle, and then all the way out again, doing it over and over, until he finally adds a second finger. Sangwoo thinks he might be drawing this out too much, might just be enjoying the view. It’s not a bad thought, just frustrating, because he needs to feel more already. He’s not delicate, he wants to be stretched, and his cock jumps thinking about the wonderfully intrusive feeling of Jaeyoung’s fingers, of his cock to come after.
“I’m ready,” Sangwoo tells him, biting back a whimper, and Jaeyoung doesn’t need to be told twice, so maybe he's just as eager as Sangwoo is to get to the part where he fills him up. Jaeyoung strokes his own cock a couple of times, shifts forward on the bed and lines himself up. Sangwoo commits this millisecond to memory— the precipice. He can't see anything but Jaeyoung. Can't smell anything but him, can't feel anything but him, and he's laid out, vulnerable and needy and submitting, even if Jaeyoung doesn't know that. Jaeyoung calls him boss sometimes.
When Jaeyoung pushes into him, Sangwoo sucks in a breath. No matter how many times they do this, no matter how prepared Sangwoo is, the first feel of him, the first few inches, is always a lot. Jaeyoung’s cock definitely isn’t average, but then nothing about him is. It’s big like everything else, and the way it stretches Sangwoo out is like nothing he’s ever felt. It’s like ascending, like finding a level in a game that he’s never found before and beating it first time. Like taking a first breath. Like taking a last breath, maybe. He doesn't know, he can barely remember his name, and he scrambles for purchase, when Jaeyoung bottoms out inside of him, grabbing for Jaeyoung's arm and holding it tightly.
“I got you,” Jaeyoung whispers. He doesn’t move for a few moments, letting Sangwoo catch up to the feeling. “You good?”
“I’m good.” Sangwoo clenches around him, he can’t help it. He’s so full, but he wants to be fuller.
“Yeah, you’re good,” Jaeyoung breathes, his fingers squeezing at the soft skin on Sangwoo’s waist when Sangwoo clenches his hole again. He takes that as a sign to move, rolls his hips and fucks into Sangwoo with practised movements. He’s so good at it, Sangwoo wonders if his previous partners ever mourn the loss of him in bed. He knows he would, if this ever ended. In fact, he’d probably mourn everything about Jaeyoung, but that’s a lot to think about right now, when he’s already stretched out, opened up, balled up on the bed, feeling small and deliciously vulnerable.
“Kiss me, hyung,” he demands, and that has Jaeyoung leaning down over his body again, covering Sangwoo completely. It feels so good, his whole body enveloped by Jaeyoung’s, and his knees almost uncomfortably pushed against his chest, Jaeyoung fucking him and kissing him at the same time, a little sloppy, a little uncontrolled.
Sangwoo arches his back as best he can in this position, pushes his chest further up against Jaeyoung’s and opens his mouth for Jaeyoung to lick against it. He grunts, brings his hand up beside Sangwoo’s head on the bed, grinning against his mouth as he continues to snap his hips, every movement of his cock inside of Sangwoo better than the last.
Sangwoo swears he can feel Jaeyoung on every part of him, in every nerve in his body, and he wants to drift away on it, could imagines drifting away and never needing to come back to earth. It feels so profound, even if it isn’t. Even if it’s just sex, romance, love. Whatever.
When Jaeyoung tries to sit back up, Sangwoo holds the back of his neck, keeps kissing him. He doesn’t want to lose the sensation of being completely covered by Jaeyoung’s body. He wants to be covered by Jaeyoung’s body forever, just lie here and be fucked into and do nothing else. It’s not logical, he knows that. He’ll know that afterwards, when they’ve brushed their teeth and they’re spooning, and it makes him blush to remember thinking he could survive soley on his boyfriend's dick, and not food and water and working, but right now it doesn’t matter. Right now Sangwoo is enjoying the relentless waves of pleasure that build in his lower belly, enjoying Jaeyoung's mouth, and his cock, and his body.
He comes first, untouched, onto his belly between them, his knees still up. He’ll have come on his knees, he thinks, and he only washed them this afternoon. It seems funny but not enough to laugh. Just enough to feel the soft touch of amusement, of happiness as he floats through his orgasm. Jaeyoung drops his head to Sangwoo’s shoulder as his thrusts become quicker, more stuttered, and then he comes too, inside the condom, inside Sangwoo.
When Jaeyoung pulls out of him, Sangwoo lies there on the bed. He idly covers his cock, sticky with his own come, with a hand, until Jaeyoung comes back with a cloth for him, and then they clean up slowly. Sangwoo checks that his legs still work, slips on his underwear and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. The movie credits are playing on the television in the corner.
Jaeyoung joins him a moment later, still naked. Even soft, his cock is stupidly big. “You’re staring at me again,” he teases, and Sangwoo curses the fact he’s been caught again.
“It’s not my fault,” Sangwoo tells him, passing him a glass of water. “If anything, it’s your fault. It's you who looks like that."
“Okay. I’ll take the blame.” Jaeyoung grins at him. He drinks the whole glass of water in three gulps, wipes his chin when a few drops spill from the glass. Sangwoo sucks in a breath. “So, are you coming to bed? You can be big spoon if you want.”
"I don't want to be big spoon," Sangwoo admits, and Jaeyoung smiles.
"I got that impression," he says. "Lucky for you, I make a great big spoon."
"I know." Sangwoo takes back the empty glass from Jaeyoung and turns back to the sink to wash it. When Jaeyoung comes up behind him and slips his arms around Sangwoo's stomach, Sangwoo doesn't bother biting back his smile.