Chapter Text
The door clicked shut behind him, the kind of finality that seemed to mark the end of an otherwise unremarkable day. As San peeled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair, the familiar scent of crayons hit him—wax and paper. It was the smell of comfort, grounding in a world that had otherwise lost all sense of civility, if not outright sanity. He followed the sound of scribbling, each scratch on the page a heartbeat pulling him toward the living room.
And there lay Wooyoung, face down on the carpet, his little legs kicking idly in the air. His hair was a tousled mess, falling into his eyes as he colored with the kind of intensity one might reserve for war strategies or disarming bombs. Not a shred of modesty on him—just a pair of pastel pink panties hugging his hips in the most obscene display of innocence San had ever seen.
When Wooyoung glanced up and saw him, a grin split his face wide open, the kind of genuine smile that made San wonder if maybe the world hadn’t gone to hell after all. “Hyung!” he squealed, his legs kicking a bit more, a shimmer of mischievous glee in his eyes.
“Hey, sweetheart,” San replied, the affection in his voice coming out like a sigh he’d been holding back all day. He dropped his bag to the floor, not caring that it landed with a thud, and crouched beside Wooyoung, eyeing the makeshift masterpiece sprawled across the coloring book. “Looks like you’ve been busy. What have you got there, huh?”
“Made a rainbow,” Wooyoung declared, voice soaked in pride as he pointed at the page with all the seriousness of an artist unveiling a newly finished fresco.
“Beautiful,” San agreed, running a hand down the curve of Wooyoung’s spine. His fingers ghosted over the waistband of the panties, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to feel the heat of the skin underneath. “Almost as beautiful as you, baby.”
A shiver rippled through Wooyoung at the touch, a soft gasp tumbling from his lips, like he’d just tasted something forbidden and found it sweeter than he’d expected. San’s gaze darkened as desire coiled tight within him, that familiar fire burning low in his belly. “You’ve been keeping our little secret all day, haven’t you?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that seemed to hang in the air, waiting to be answered.
Wooyoung’s eyes widened, the barest hint of a whimper catching in his throat as he nodded. His breath hitched when San’s fingers slid lower, brushing over the smooth base of the plug nestled inside him. “Y-Yes, Hyung,” he breathed out, his voice trembling.
A chuckle rumbled through San as he praised him, “Such a good boy.” With deliberate slowness, he eased the plug free, taking his time, savoring the soft sounds escaping Wooyoung’s lips. The moment it was out, he didn’t waste another second before positioning himself behind him, spreading Wooyoung’s legs just enough, pressing forward with a slow, torturous roll of his hips.
The feeling was electric. Each thrust a calculated move, pushing him deeper and deeper, his grip on Wooyoung’s hips tightening as the boy trembled beneath him, helpless to anything but the intensity of San’s movements. The room seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the sounds of ragged breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and the occasional whimper that bordered on a plea.
San wasn’t in a hurry. He dragged it out, letting the build happen in a maddeningly slow crescendo until finally, he buried himself to the hilt, a groan slipping past his lips as he released his piss, warmth flooding into Wooyoung. He could feel the tremors rocking through the boy, each quiver a testament to the satisfaction that followed.
When he pulled away, the emptiness left behind was almost palpable, but San wasn’t about to leave Wooyoung like that. He reached for the plug, sliding it back into place with a deliberate ease. “There we go,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against the small of Wooyoung’s back like a promise. “All nice and full.”
It took Wooyoung a moment to catch his breath, his face flushed as he turned back to San, eyes heavy-lidded with a look that was almost bashful. “Th-Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely audible over the rustling of the crayon box.
San just smiled, pulling him close, the warmth of Wooyoung’s body sinking into his own like they were two puzzle pieces that had finally clicked together. “You’re always welcome, baby,” he said, planting a soft kiss on his temple. Then, with a casualness that bordered on absurdity given what had just transpired, he guided Wooyoung back toward the abandoned coloring book. “Now, about that rainbow. Think we should add some clouds?”
Wooyoung beamed, reaching for a white crayon. “Yeah! Fluffy ones,” he decided, the previous tension evaporating like mist in sunlight as his focus shifted back to his art.
San watched the crayon glide over the paper, and in that moment, it was easy to pretend that there wasn’t a world outside this room—a world that had come undone in a thousand different ways. Here, with Wooyoung and a half-finished rainbow, there was nothing but the quiet comfort of now. And that was enough.