Plentiful Bounty

by CursedNymph

Summary:

Yunho’s had a crush on quiet, nerdy San for way too long—but every time he tries to talk to him, San runs off flustered. One late-night trip to the library offers the perfect opportunity to finally shoot his shot when he finds San struggling to reach a book, which spirals into more than Yunho could have hoped for.

Notes:

Hi lovelies! Welcome back to another chapter fic, more will be revealed as the chapters go on, and I hope you enjoy <3

Chapter 1 - YunSan
Chapter 2 - WooGi
Chapter 3 - YunSanWooGi

Chapter 1: Check Me Out

Yunho wasn’t exactly the type to fall for someone silently. In fact, it had never really been his style. If he liked someone, they usually knew—flirting came easy, compliments spilled from his lips without second thought, and his easygoing charm tended to carry him through most social situations. But then there was San.

San, with his oversized hoodies and permanently slouched shoulders, like he was trying to fold in on himself. San, who always sat near the windows in lecture halls, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he scribbled in tiny, precise handwriting. San, who Yunho had been not-so-subtly crushing on for going on three months now.

He hadn’t even meant to notice him at first. They had a few classes that overlapped, and San was one of those people who didn't speak unless called on—soft-spoken, head ducked down, fading into the background. But Yunho had noticed, because while San might’ve tried to disappear, he had this way of blinking rapidly whenever he was concentrating, his lashes fluttering just a little. His lips were always pressed together like he was holding in something—thoughts, anxiety, maybe a breath he forgot to let go of. It was kind of endearing, honestly.

Then Yunho saw him one day leaving the campus gym—sweaty, red-cheeked, tugging a hoodie back over his damp T-shirt and hair still clinging to his forehead. And something just clicked .

San wasn’t just some quiet nerd; he was actually hot. Like, criminally unaware of how hot he was. Beneath all the gloom and baggy clothes, there were firm shoulders, toned thighs, and a waist that Yunho hadn’t stopped thinking about for weeks. That moment rewired something in Yunho’s brain. The kind of thing that had him imagining San in tank tops, trimmed hair brushing neatly against the nape of his neck, ditching those god-awful hoodies in favor of something a little more fitted. Not that Yunho minded the hoodies—truthfully, they made San look like a human-sized pillow he wanted to wrap his arms around. But still. The idea of seeing him shed the insecurity and own how good he looked? That haunted Yunho in a very specific, very thirsty way.

There had been a point, early on, where he’d even daydreamed about San switching to contacts. Maybe then, Yunho thought, people would see those eyes of his. Big, brown, expressive—the kind that looked even more dramatic under the lenses, somehow always wide with curiosity or panic or both. But then Yunho had a dream that changed the trajectory of his thoughts.

It wasn’t even anything that outrageous—just San on his knees, looking up at him, glasses fogged and slipping down his nose as he blinked up, lips parted with his tongue hanging out just a bit and cheeks pink, clearly begging for cock. And since then? Yeah. No. The glasses stayed. The glasses were absolutely essential.

The only problem in this beautifully doomed little situation was that Yunho and San had never had a proper conversation.

Sure, they’d exchanged a few polite words about class, assignments, exam dates. Sometimes San would mutter a soft thank-you if Yunho held the door or passed him a handout. But every time Yunho tried to talk to him—like, really talk to him—San would short-circuit. The moment Yunho turned his full attention on him, said something even mildly flirtatious, San would freeze, go scarlet from his neck to his ears, and practically bolt in the opposite direction.

Yunho had started treating it like a game. A tragic, soul-consuming, mind-breaking game where he flirted gently, and San ran like he’d been set on fire.

And always— always —there was Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, San’s best friend, perched in the background like a smug little devil. He didn’t even try to hide it anymore. Every time San bailed mid-conversation, Wooyoung would appear somewhere in Yunho’s peripheral vision with a knowing smirk, sometimes even miming a kissy face or whispering a dramatic “Oooooh!” just to add insult to injury.

Yunho had a theory .

San liked him too. He had to. There was no way someone blushed that hard, panicked that fast, or avoided someone that consistently without at least some mutual attraction under the surface. The shy glances, the way San immediately tugged his hoodie tighter around himself whenever Yunho complimented anything he was wearing, the way his ears would turn red before his face did—it all had to mean something.

Still, Yunho had started to think maybe he was going about it the wrong way. San didn’t need big charm or cheesy one-liners. He didn’t need showy attention. What he needed was someone patient enough to coax him out of that shell without scaring him back into it.

Someone like Yunho—who already thought San looked good with messy hair and gloomy vibes. Who already thought he was cute even when he was awkward and halfway to a panic attack. Who didn’t need him to change at all, even if he couldn’t help fantasizing about what he might look like with a little more confidence.

So Yunho waited. Watched. Tried to keep his flirting low-pressure, even when San’s flushed face made his brain scream. And every time San bolted, Yunho watched Wooyoung grin at him from across the quad like he was watching a slow-burn drama unfold in real time.

It would happen eventually, Yunho told himself. One day San would stay long enough to actually talk. Maybe even flirt back. Maybe—

Yunho shook himself out of the thought, staring down at the textbook in his hand. Class was over. San had already left, probably in a rush again. But maybe tonight. Maybe tonight something would change.

He had to return a book to the library anyway. And if San happened to be there studying for their upcoming test?

Well .

Yunho didn’t believe in fate. But he did believe in opportunities.

And he was absolutely not above reaching for them.

~

Yunho didn’t want to get his hopes up. The library was a big place, and San could be studying in any one of its tucked-away corners—or, more likely, curled up in one of the booths in the far back where hardly anyone ever went. But the second he stepped through the heavy double doors and let the quiet hush of the library settle around him, he knew his gut had been right.

There he was.

San was standing near the far wall of the reference section, struggling to reach something on the top shelf. One arm was stretched up as far as it would go, his fingers just brushing the spine of a thick volume that stubbornly refused to budge. His hoodie rode up slightly, exposing the hem of his shirt and a tiny sliver of pale skin. His hair was still a little damp, probably from a post-gym shower, the strands curling slightly at the tips. He kept bouncing on his toes and failing, huffing in frustration.

Yunho almost groaned. He had no right looking that adorable while doing something so mundane. And Yunho had no excuse for the way his brain immediately went to some very, very filthy places.

He watched for a few seconds longer, biting his lip to suppress the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. San hadn't noticed him yet. Perfect .

Book return completely forgotten, Yunho walked up behind him. Quiet steps. Steady breath. One hand reached out to rest casually on the shelf just beside San’s head as he reached up with the other, grabbing the book San had been struggling with. But he didn’t hand it over. Not yet.

Instead, Yunho leaned in slightly, his chest brushing San’s back, body caging the smaller man in without quite touching him. He could feel the jolt of surprise ripple through San when he realized someone was behind him. Could hear the breath that caught in his throat. It made Yunho's skin prickle.

“Oh,” San murmured softly, blinking up at him as he turned his head slightly. Yunho caught a full look at his face now—wide brown eyes, soft parted lips, glasses slipping down his nose from the tilt of his head. He looked stunned, like he'd been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and Yunho could’ve sworn he actually saw his ears go red.

“Need this?” Yunho asked, voice low and teasing as he held the book aloft with one hand, keeping it just out of reach. His other hand still rested near San’s head, trapping him in place. San was backed up to the shelves now, caught between the dusty wood and Yunho’s body, and Yunho had no plans to move away anytime soon.

San nodded hesitantly, glancing up toward the book and then back at Yunho. “Can you please give it to me? I need it,” he said softly, and god —he was so cute. His voice had that same gentle cadence as always, but it cracked just slightly at the end, betraying his nerves. He adjusted his glasses instinctively, pushing them up with one knuckle.

Yunho tilted his head, pretending to think about it. “Hmm…” he hummed thoughtfully, then turned his gaze back down to San with a smile that was anything but innocent. “If you give me a kiss, then you can have it back.”

He meant it as a joke. Mostly. Maybe 40% joke and 60% desperate flirtation. If San said no or freaked out, Yunho would laugh it off and hand the book over like a normal person. But that’s not what happened.

San froze. His lips parted, blinking rapidly behind his fogging lenses, and then the color started to rise in his cheeks. Slowly. Deliberately. Like a thermometer left in boiling water. It started at his collar, moved up his neck, and then finally reached the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks. Bright red. Glowing.

Yunho waited for the usual outcome. Stammering. Sudden retreat. Maybe even a full sprint away. But San didn’t move. He stayed frozen in place, looking like his brain had completely blue-screened. He opened his mouth once—no words came out. Then again, and still nothing. Just soft, helpless sounds of confusion.

Yunho wasn't faring the best either, he was just better at hiding it, even though he was sure his heart was beating so loud in his chest that the whole library could hear it. Something about the look on San’s face—like he was trying to form a response but couldn’t get past the chaos inside his head—made everything thought in Yunho's brain turn into ones of need .

He lifted one hand and brushed his fingers gently along San’s cheek, cupping it, feeling the heat of that blush against his palm. His thumb grazed the hinge of his jaw.

Then he leaned in and kissed him.

The first contact was soft, a test more than anything, but Yunho didn’t wait long before deepening it. His mouth moved slowly, deliberately, savoring the feel of San’s lips—plush, a little chapped, unpracticed. San gasped quietly into the kiss, and Yunho took full advantage, tilting his head and coaxing San’s mouth open with his own.

It was messy. There was no other word for it. San clearly had no idea what he was doing—his lips parted too much at the wrong times, and he didn’t know where to put his hands—but Yunho didn’t care. Every second of it was intoxicating .

San whined, breath shaky as Yunho’s tongue slipped into his mouth, licking softly at the roof before sweeping across San’s. That noise—that whine —made Yunho grip him a little tighter, his hand shifting to the back of San’s neck. He pressed closer, slowly slotting one knee between San’s legs to keep him pinned in place.

~

That’s when it happened.

Yunho’s thigh made contact with the front of San’s pants, and the sound that San made was not a whimper. It wasn’t a sigh. It wasn’t even a gasp. It was a full-on moan—quiet, but breathy and real and so deliciously honest that Yunho nearly lost control.

San moaned into his mouth, high-pitched and helpless, and Yunho felt every inch of blood in his body rush straight to his dick.

He pulled back just enough to speak, forehead resting lightly against San’s. “I’m sorr—” he began, half-worried he’d gone too far.

But San blurted out, voice high and rushed and loud in the quiet library, “ I LIKE YOU! ”

The words dropped between them like something solid. Heavy. Sincere.

Yunho blinked. He stared at him, stunned for just a second—then burst out laughing, which got him a firm pout from San.

Not in a mean way. Not even close. It wasn’t mocking, just full of delighted surprise. His laugh was breathless, filled with disbelief and affection. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to San’s forehead, still smiling. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Me too.”

San didn’t move. He looked like he was trying to remember how to breathe, still pinned between the shelf and Yunho’s body, lips swollen and eyes wide behind crooked glasses.

“Do you…” Yunho asked, voice suddenly quieter, “do you wanna keep going? We can stop. But I just—” He hesitated. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

San nodded, slow but certain. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he said, “ Please .”

Yunho exhaled shakily, pulling back just enough to grab his hand. He reached up, returned the forgotten book to the shelf without a second glance, then laced their fingers together and gave San a small tug.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice low and still laced with hunger. “Let’s go somewhere a little more… private .”

San followed, silent and dazed, glancing around as if unsure what had just happened—or maybe unsure if it had really happened at all. He fumbled for his phone with his free hand, thumb tapping out a message to someone before clutching it tightly to his chest.

Yunho glanced back at him as they stepped out of the stacks, eyes roaming over the blush still high on San’s cheeks, the way he was adjusting his glasses again like they might help him figure out what he did to deserve such a great thing.

San was nervous. Obviously.

But he wasn’t pulling away.

And that was enough to make Yunho crave more .

~

Yunho knew the campus library bathroom wasn’t exactly the height of romance—or even privacy—but it would have to do. It was late enough that no one would be hanging around the stacks, and the only sounds echoing through the tiled hall were the flickering buzz of fluorescent lights and the occasional far-off hum of a printer. It wasn’t perfect.

But it was private enough .

San’s fingers were trembling just slightly in his, but he hadn’t let go. Yunho’s pulse was a steady thrum under his skin, his body running hot with nerves and hunger, but he forced himself to move slowly, to keep his grip steady as he nudged them toward the last couple stalls.

It felt like San might spook if he made the wrong move.

The moment they slipped into the second-to-last stall, Yunho turned, crowding San in gently and letting the door click shut behind them. His free hand reached behind San to flip down the toilet lid before guiding him down by the shoulders.

San sat stiffly, not quite making eye contact. His knees pressed together, hands fidgeting in his lap like he didn’t know where to put them, and for a second Yunho just stared.

God .

His glasses had slid low on his nose again—like always—and he didn’t reach up to fix them this time. His cheeks were glowing, high and warm with the kind of flush that came from wanting, not just embarrassment. He was trying so hard to look anywhere but at Yunho.

Yunho just let himself stand there and drink in the sight in front of him.

This was what he hadn’t realized he wanted so badly until just now: the size difference, the nerves, the intimacy of being looked up at like that. The way San seemed to fold in on himself while Yunho towered over him, heart pounding and brain melting just from how damn adorable he was.

It sparked something in him—deep in his chest, deep in his gut. Possessive. Tender. Filthy .

Yunho braced one hand against the side wall of the stall and looked down at him, voice low, half-laughing. “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

That finally got San to look up. Just a flicker of a glance.

Gorgeous eyes, framed by fogging lenses. Teary already, like he didn’t know what to do with everything he was feeling. Lips parted slightly. His expression was helpless in the best way—flushed and stunned and pliant, like he was ready to be told what to do because thinking was too much effort now.

Yunho’s brain went static for a second. Something in his chest throbbed with it.

That urge from earlier—to just tease him, make him blush, watch him unravel—came flooding back with so much more weight now. Because San wasn’t running. He was sitting there, red and twitchy and uncertain, but he hadn’t run. He wanted this.

Yunho didn’t even know what to do with that.

And god, the way San was looking at him now, eyes fluttering a little, thighs squeezing together like he couldn’t help it—

“I might have a thing for you looking like this,” Yunho murmured, voice thick and shaky with the sudden rush of need.

San didn’t say anything, but the way he blushed even harder gave him all the answer he needed.

~

Yunho didn’t waste a second. He reached out, threading his fingers gently through San’s and pulling him back up to his feet. San stumbled a little on the way up, still dazed, still barely meeting Yunho’s gaze—but he didn’t resist.

The second he was upright, Yunho kissed him again.

It was slower this time—less greedy, more grounding. He wanted San to feel held, wanted him to know he wasn’t rushing this even if every cell in Yunho’s body was screaming for more. His hands slid down to San’s hips, squeezing softly, fingertips digging into the muscle there. San made a sound against his mouth, quiet and breathless, and Yunho swallowed it greedily.

He kept kissing, pulling him in closer, coaxing him into it. San wasn’t practiced—he could feel it in the way their mouths moved. But it didn’t matter. He was pliant. Eager. Sweet. When Yunho deepened the kiss, he didn’t pull away. He just gasped quietly into Yunho’s mouth and let it happen.

Yunho’s hands moved again, drifting lower, slipping over the swell of San’s ass. He gave a firm squeeze, and the sound San made this time was a startled yelp that broke the kiss entirely.

Yunho pulled back just enough to look at him—his swollen lips, the shimmer in his eyes, the little pink flush that now covered his throat and ears. His glasses were nearly falling off, and he hadn’t even noticed.

Yunho exhaled shakily. “You’re so fucking hot .”

San blinked up at him, dazed. Still processing as he muttered a quiet " thank you ". His whole body was buzzing, trembling just slightly. Yunho could feel it in the tips of his fingers where he was still holding him.

He didn’t want to push.

But god, he wanted him.

“Do you…” Yunho hesitated, then tried again. “Do you want to suck me off?”

The words came out rough, unsteady. Too desperate. He winced at himself.

“If not, it’s totally okay,” he rushed to add, already regretting it. “I know this is fast, and we just— we literally just kissed, and I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, it’s just— fuck , San, you’re so hot I can’t even think straight right now.”

He laughed under his breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The heat under his skin was starting to feel unbearable. He was already bracing himself for a no, ready to back off and apologize—

But then San smiled.

It was tiny. Wobbly. Nervous as hell .

And then he nodded. “I’d love to,” he whispered.

Yunho blinked. His heart stopped. Just for a second. And then it started again, double time, and he nearly staggered under the rush of it.

“You— really ?” he asked, stunned.

San just nodded again. A little more firmly this time. Still shy, still red as hell, but his eyes had softened with something close to certainty.

Yunho’s mouth went dry. He took a shaky breath and let San sit back down. This time there was no hesitation. He didn’t fidget or flinch. He just looked up—eyes still wide, still blinking slowly—and waited.

Yunho reached down, brushing San’s hair gently behind his ear, letting his fingers trail along the shell of it before cupping his cheek. He leaned down, pressing one last soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Just go slow,” he murmured. “You don’t have to take all of it. Just do what feels good. Okay?”

San nodded, that wobbly little smile still shining in the fluorescent glow of the bathroom.

~

Yunho didn’t expect San to reach for him so fast.

The moment San had settled onto the toilet seat again, his knees parting just slightly, his hands twitched up toward Yunho’s hips. There was hesitation there, of course—San still looked like he might die of embarrassment if Yunho so much as moaned too loudly—but then his fingers brushed the front of Yunho’s pants, and everything shifted.

It wasn’t confident, not exactly. But it was eager. Curious. Experimental.

He was pawing at Yunho’s bulge, like he was trying to map it out with his palm—pressing just enough to feel the weight of it, the shape beneath the fabric, trying to see if it was how he'd imagined it in his fantasies. The pads of his fingers dragged slowly, tracing along the outline, shivering a little when Yunho shifted his hips forward instinctively.

Yunho hissed through his teeth, hands bracing against the stall wall. “ Fuck ,” he muttered. “San—shit, don’t—”

San paused instantly, glancing up at him, lips parted like he was about to apologize.

Yunho shook his head, breath shaky. “Not because it’s bad. It’s good. It’s too good,” he said, his voice low and rushed. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum before you even get my pants down.”

That made San freeze—then go bright red. Not just his cheeks this time, but his ears, his neck, even the tops of his knees where they peeked out from under his shorts. He ducked his head, murmuring something like “sorry,” but Yunho could hear the embarrassment curled under it.

Still, he let go of Yunho’s waistband and fumbled to undo it instead, fingers clumsy from nerves.

Yunho reached down to help, covering San’s hands with his own as he shoved his sweats and boxers down just far enough to free himself. His cock bobbed up against his stomach, flushed and hard, glistening already at the tip.

And then San just… stared .

Yunho looked down to find his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open, the soft swell of his bottom lip glistening where he’d just licked it nervously.

“…It’s not going to fit,” San muttered under his breath like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but how could he think clearly when there was a massive cock in his face?

Yunho flushed, suddenly and sharply self-conscious. “You don’t have to—”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” San interrupted quickly, eyes still locked on his cock. “Just…it’s so big .”

Yunho let out a small, shaky laugh. “You don’t have to take it all in,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Seriously. I don’t expect that. Just do whatever feels good. I’ll love it either way.”

San nodded slowly, like he was trying to build up courage.

Then he leaned in and pressed a tentative kiss to the head.

Yunho nearly folded in half.

The first touch of his tongue was featherlight—a soft lick right across the slit, tentative and slow. San pulled back almost immediately like he was testing something, then went in again, lips wrapping around just the very tip. He suckled gently, his eyes fluttering closed before glancing back up, watery and wide through the curve of his glasses.

And that look—that fucking look—hit Yunho like a brick to the chest.

San looked so pretty like this. His eyes were already glassy from the heat in his face, his cheeks flushed dark, and every movement he made felt raw and untrained but deeply intentional. His tongue traced slow, wet circles over the sensitive tip, one hand braced lightly against Yunho’s hip like he didn’t know where else to hold on.

Yunho bit down hard on a groan. “Fuck, San, you’re doing good,” he breathed, carding his fingers gently into San’s hair.

San didn’t say anything. He couldn’t—not with his mouth already full—but he hummed in response, like he was proud of himself. That tiny sound vibrated against Yunho’s cock and made his knees go weak.

The blowjob stayed slow, intimate. San took it inch by inch, pushing forward a little more every time, trying to find the rhythm that worked for him. Every now and then, he’d pull back and lick the tip again, his tongue flicking just under the ridge of Yunho’s head, and Yunho would see the way his eyes rolled back slightly when the taste hit him.

There was definitely a little freak in him.

~

It was messy, and clumsy in places. San couldn’t take more than halfway, but he kept sucking—his cheeks hollowing with effort, his tongue working with clear determination. His glasses were already sliding again, fogging from the heat rising between them. Yunho kept praising him for every little movement, every lick, every twitch of his lips.

“You’re so good at this,” Yunho whispered, breath catching. “You look so pretty like this— fuck , Sannie, I can’t stop looking at you.”

San moaned around him, the praise hitting him just right to get his eyes rolling up into his head.

Yunho lost control for just a second .

He hadn’t meant to do it. The pressure had been building too fast, the heat winding tighter in his gut with every pass of San’s tongue, every whimper he let out around him. Yunho had been holding himself back, doing his best to let San set the pace. But then San looked up at him with those watery eyes, cheeks hollowed out, glasses slipping down his nose, and Yunho’s hips bucked forward instinctively.

Just one sharp thrust—too fast, too deep.

San choked immediately, the sound wet and panicked, and Yunho’s heart seized with it.

“Shit—shit,” he gasped, pulling back the second he felt the resistance. “I didn’t mean to— fuck , I’m sorry—”

San gagged and moaned at the same time, the sound drawn and helpless as he pulled off with a gasp, coughing once as he grabbed at Yunho’s thigh for balance. His hand was trembling. His whole body was.

Tears spilled freely down his flushed cheeks now, his lips red and slick, open as he sucked in air like he was trying to remember how. He didn’t look panicked now—rather just overwhelmed, blinking through the haze of sensation that Yunho had no idea about, with pupils blown wide and wet lashes clinging together.

Yunho bent down without thinking, brushing a hand through San’s hair to soothe him, thumb stroking gently over his temple before he leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey. Hey—look at me,” he said, voice soft and low with guilt and worry. “You’re okay. I’m so sorry. That was... fuck, I didn’t mean to do that.”

San sniffled once before he brought that pretty little smile back, nodding while catching his breath.

“You don’t have to do more,” Yunho said quickly, firmly. “You’re doing amazing, San. You can stop whenever. You’re— fuck , you’re incredible.”

San answered with a quiet " I'm okay " before he wiped at his eyes, still flushed to the point of glowing. There was something behind the tears, though—something dark and determined, like the spark hadn’t gone out at all.

He ducked down again, and Yunho barely had time to react before San was sucking him again. Less depth this time, but more focus—his tongue worked circles over the same spot near the base of Yunho’s head, lips soft and suction just tight enough.

Yunho’s hand braced against the wall again, his hips jerking forward without meaning to.

“San—” he groaned. “Fuck—‘m gonna— shit —San, I’m—”

He couldn’t stop it. He was too close, too overwhelmed.

Yunho reached for San’s hair to try and pull him off—too late.

The first few spurts of hot cum hit the back of San’s tongue just as Yunho’s hand yanked him back. San coughed slightly as he was pulled off, and the rest of Yunho’s release painted his face—thick white stripes across his lips, his nose, and most notably—

His glasses.

It looked like a scene straight out of porn.

San sat back against the toilet, dazed, his mouth closed but obviously full. His lips were wet and red, cheeks burning. One eye was squinted shut, the other barely open behind his smeared lenses. A drop of cum slid slowly from the corner of his glasses, trailing down the curve of his cheek.

Yunho stared at him.

Speechless .

His cock somehow twitched even after being sucked dry.

~

San was still staring up at him, dazed and flushed and waiting like he didn’t know what came next—like he’d do anything Yunho asked, if only he could figure out what that even was.

And Yunho just stood there, absolutely reeling.

He didn’t even know what part of it had melted his brain first—the sight of his cum dripping down San’s glasses, the way his lips were swollen so beautifully, or that wide, blinking look of obedience that had completely short-circuited Yunho’s higher reasoning skills.

His heart was practically vibrating in his chest, pounding loud and fast. He reached down gently, cupping San’s jaw, his thumb brushing the edge of his mouth with the lightest pressure.

“You don’t have to swallow,” he said, his voice hoarse, so much softer than it had been a moment ago. “Seriously. You can spit it out if it’s weird or too much.”

He really, genuinely meant that. This was new for San—hell, it was new for Yunho in a lot of ways too—and the last thing he wanted was to make him feel pressured into something he didn’t want to do.

San blinked up at him slowly. And then, while still holding eye contact, he tilted his chin just a bit more into Yunho’s hand—

—and swallowed .

Yunho’s breath caught hard in his throat. A rough sound escaped his mouth before he could stop it, half-groan, half-whimper, and he swore the ground tilted a little beneath him.

San coughed once afterward, hand coming up to wipe delicately at his mouth. His cheeks were still cherry red, but he didn’t seem embarrassed about what he’d just done. More like... proud ? Or at least steady.

Yunho didn’t even think. He just leaned in and kissed him again.

It was slower now, messier in a different way—gentle but dizzying, his tongue licking into San’s mouth with that heady aftertaste of himself still lingering. He couldn’t get enough. His hands were on San’s cheeks, cradling his face like it was breakable, and San kissed back the best he could, though his legs were still trembling slightly.

When Yunho finally pulled away, he pressed their foreheads together for a moment, catching his breath. Then he looked down and tugged his pants back into place, zipping up and fixing the waistband.

“Okay,” he said, scanning the quiet restroom, “I’m gonna grab some paper towels.”

He slipped out of the stall as quietly as he could, checked the sinks—still empty, thank god—and turned on the tap. Once the water ran warm, he soaked a few paper towels, grabbed a handful of dry ones, and ducked back in.

San was still sat as comfortably as possible, blinking slowly like his brain had not entirely returned to his body yet.

Yunho crouched in front of him and carefully started dabbing at his face—cleaning the mess off his lips first, then the slick on his cheeks, then the trail down his nose. San let him, eyes fluttering closed every time Yunho’s fingers ghosted over his skin.

“Glasses off for a sec?” Yunho asked gently.

San handed them over wordlessly, and Yunho cleaned them too—folded them neatly and wiped every streak with precision until the lenses were clear again.

“You okay?” he asked when he was done, setting them gently back on San’s nose.

San nodded. His voice came out soft and cracked. “Yeah. Just...floaty, I think.”

Yunho chuckled. “That’s understandable.”

He ran a final dry towel under San’s chin, making sure he was completely clean. Then he sat back on his heels and tilted his head.

“Do you want me to return the favor?” he asked. “I mean—I’d really like to. If you want.”

San’s reaction wasn’t immediate. He blinked at Yunho, then glanced down at his lap like he only just remembered that part of himself existed.

And then—then he blushed. Hard.

“I already…” San mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “I already came.”

~

Yunho froze. “You—what?”

San squirmed a little in place, squeezing his thighs together tightly. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked away.

Yunho shifted closer, trying to see—and when San didn’t move, he gently grabbed both of San's knees and peeled them apart.

There it was.

A damp, dark patch on the front of San’s shorts.

Yunho’s mouth went dry.

“Holy shit ,” he breathed, his voice barely a sound. “That’s so—”

He stopped himself before saying hot, but the word was heavy on his tongue anyway. He reached forward, hands brushing along the inside of San’s thighs. The second his fingers made contact, San let out a choked little whine and tried to press his knees back together.

Too sensitive.

Yunho soothed him with a quiet shush, kissing his knee gently.

“When did you…?”

San’s voice was nearly a squeak. “When I choked. On your...c-cock”

Yunho’s brain actually stuttered, the fact that San could barely say it made it somehow even hotter.

“You mean—because you gagged on it?”

San covered his face with both hands and nodded behind his palms.

Yunho groaned. Quiet but real. The kind of sound that came from somewhere buried and wrecked.

“That’s... unbelievably hot,” he whispered, dragging his hand down San’s thigh again.

He let his fingertips press gently against the wet spot, just the barest touch—and San jerked, grabbing his wrist with a flustered squeak.

“Too much,” he whined, face still hidden.

“Okay, okay,” Yunho murmured, easing back. “Totally fine, I’ll stop.”

They were quiet for a second—just breathing. The tension had changed again—less desperate, more fuzzy around the edges now. A mix of laughter and affection curling in at the edges of the heat.

Yunho helped San to his feet, moving slow as he pulled him upright. San swayed just slightly before steadying himself against the stall wall.

“We should get you actually cleaned up,” Yunho said gently.

San looked down at himself, frowned a little. “I think my boxers are ruined.”

“Yeah, probably,” Yunho agreed, trying not to sound too smug about it.

San wrinkled his nose. “Should I just... throw them away?”

Yunho shrugged. “Unless you want to keep them as a trophy.”

San glanced up at him, mischief flickering for a single heartbeat. “You want them?”

Yunho choked on air. “What—”

San went bright red. “I was kidding! That was a joke !”

Yunho wheezed a laugh. “Jesus, didn't know you had it in you, cutie.”

San covered his face again. “Please turn around.”

Yunho did as asked, facing the stall door as he heard the quiet shuffle of shorts being pulled down and then fabric rustling. There was a soft thud as something hit the small metal trash bin in the corner.

“Can't believe I'm going commando in public,” San muttered.

Yunho grinned. “I’ll try not to think about that too much.”

“You’re definitely thinking about it.”

“Not denying it.”

~

Once they were both somewhat composed, they stepped out of the stall together and San made his way to the sink. He cleaned his hands, rinsed his mouth, splashed some water on his face. Yunho leaned against the counter beside him, trying to look cool while failing internally. Every few seconds he kept stealing glances at the wet mark still barely drying on San’s shorts.

When they finally walked out into the main library again, the space was as quiet as they’d left it. Nearly all of the students were long gone for the night. Yunho reached for San’s hand without thinking.

San let him take it. Didn’t even hesitate.

They walked like that across the carpeted floor until they reached the far study table where a single figure sat slouched in a chair, legs kicked out in front of him and phone held lazily in his hands.

Wooyoung.

The moment they approached, Wooyoung looked up—and the knowing smirk that spread across his face was instant.

“Have fun?” he asked, voice low and singsong.

San groaned and buried his face in Yunho’s shoulder.

Yunho laughed. “You must be Wooyoung.”

“That’s me. You must be the hot guy San’s been melting down over all semester.”

Yunho blinked. “He’s been—?”

“ Youngie !” San whined, pulling away just far enough to glare. “ Stop .”

Wooyoung just cackled. “I’m glad it finally happened. Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t know he liked me,” Yunho said, unable to stop smiling.

“Dude, he looked like a kicked puppy every time you walked by. Come on.”

Yunho laughed again. “Well. Now I know.”

San was grumbling under his breath, flustered but clinging to Yunho’s hand like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Wooyoung stood and stretched. “Alright. Your stuff’s all here. I didn’t let anyone touch it.”

“Thanks,” San muttered. “I owe you.”

“Damn right you do,” Wooyoung said. “Text me later. Tell me everything .”

“No.”

Yunho liked him already.

Once San had his backpack slung over one shoulder and his laptop secured, Yunho turned to him and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Let me walk you home?”

San nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah. Okay.”

They headed out together, night air cool against their flushed skin. They didn’t speak much at first, just walked quietly with fingers entwined, the buzz of street lamps overhead and the shuffle of their steps in sync.

“Hey,” Yunho said finally, his voice softer now. “Can I take you on a real date? I'll plan everything, you won't have to lift a pretty finger.”

San looked over at him, glasses reflecting the streetlight glow. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’d really like that.”

And Yunho, grinning like an idiot, just kept holding his hand as they walked into the night.

~

Chapter 2: Ten Days Of Trying

Summary:

Mingi has a reputation of being the campus fuckboy, and after a bet made by his best friend, his next target is San's roommate, Wooyoung. He thinks he's got it in the bag, and while he's partially right, the night turns into something he never could have predicted.

Notes:

Part 2! I absolutely loved writing this part, and I hope you lovelies enjoy it <3

Mingi liked lunch best when Yunho was loud, chaotic, and entirely his. Today, though, Yunho was soft-eyed and grinning at a phone screen, his spork forgotten halfway to his mouth, and Mingi had to admit he was a little bit—just a little bit—sick of how disgustingly cute his best friend had gotten.

It wasn’t a new routine. Their classes were on opposite sides of campus all morning, but noon always meant the same thing—Mingi claiming their regular table by the koi pond and Yunho showing up ten minutes late with a bruised banana, a mess of paper sticking out of his backpack, and a dumb story to share. It’d been that way since high school, and before that middle school, and before that, their moms coordinating lunchboxes back when they were eight and basically glued to each other’s sides.

Nothing really changed between them, except now Yunho was whipped. Stupidly, sappily, utterly whipped.

Mingi tried not to look at the way Yunho’s whole face lit up when the phone buzzed again.

“ Tch ,” Mingi muttered, peeling open his choco pie wrapper with exaggerated force. “It’s like I’m not even here.”

Yunho glanced up briefly, not even embarrassed. “Huh?”

“You’ve smiled at that phone more than me today, and that’s just hurtful.”

Yunho snorted. “Mingi, you don’t want me smiling at you like this.”

“Why not?” Mingi leaned in with a dramatic flutter of lashes. “Isn’t that the same look you gave me in eighth grade when I let you copy my math homework?”

Yunho just shook his head, lips tugging up. “That was gratitude. This is love.”

Mingi groaned, thudding his forehead against the table with a theatrical whine. “Ugh, get a grip. You’re turning into one of those people. You know, couples who send hearts and matching emojis and text each other in baby voice.”

“I am one of those people,” Yunho said, laughing as he took another bite of his rice. “I’m in love, sue me.”

“Gross,” Mingi huffed, sitting back up and squinting into the sunlight. “And now I’m third-wheeling even when it’s just the two of us. Amazing.”

Yunho rolled his eyes and finally put his phone down for real, nudging his tray a little closer like a peace offering. “Okay, okay. My bad. You have my full attention. Happy?”

Mingi grinned. “ Ecstatic .”

For a few moments, it felt normal again—just two guys who knew everything about each other, tossing food onto each other’s personal space, arguing about whether or not ghosts were real, they were, Mingi insisted, and hot, and talking shit about one of their professors who wore the same three blazers on rotation.

But that tiny flicker of envy wouldn’t leave Mingi alone. It wasn’t that he wanted San. He liked San just fine—quiet, sweet, clearly had a thing for Yunho since they'd started the year. And Yunho deserved this. The way he looked at his phone, the way his voice softened whenever he mentioned San’s name, the way he’d drop anything just to walk across campus for a midday snack break with him—it was kind of sickening, yeah, but it was also… warm. Familiar.

Mingi had tried. Plenty of times. Relationships, real ones. They never stuck. Something about being needed all the time made him itchy. It wasn’t that he was afraid of commitment, not really—he just didn’t like how it felt. Like something always tugged at him to be more than he could give. So he’d settled into the role people gave him: hot, confident, flirtatious, and completely uncatchable.

Hence, the nickname Yunho had so lovingly bestowed on him sometime this year: campus fuckboy.

It wasn’t unfair. Mingi liked sex. He liked the chase, the connection, the intensity of it—but he never let it go on too long. Not because he didn’t care, but because he always hit that point where things felt like they were asking too much of him. And the people he left? None of them had anything bad to say. He was honest, always respectful, never left anyone hanging.

But the name stuck anyway.

~

“You’re thinking again,” Yunho said, mouth full. “And when you think, something unhinged is about to come out of your mouth.”

Mingi smirked. “Was just wondering if San knows how cringe you are.”

“He likes it,” Yunho said without missing a beat.

“That’s even worse .”

They both laughed, and Mingi relaxed a little. Teasing Yunho had always been a reliable mood boost.

Then Yunho leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand and fixing Mingi with a look that was far too mischievous for a Tuesday. “So… you’re bored.”

Mingi squinted. “Where did that come from?”

“You’re groaning at me, chewing like your food betrayed you, and you’ve been people-watching more than flirting today. That means you’re bored.”

Mingi rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’m just tired of seeing you text sweet nothings to your boyfriend while I sit here, tragically single and tragically hot.”

“ Tragic indeed,” Yunho said dryly. Then, with that same glint in his eyes: “Want to make things interesting?”

Mingi raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“I have a challenge for you.”

“God, I knew you were going to say that.”

Yunho leaned in closer. “You know Wooyoung, right? San’s roommate?”

Mingi blinked. “Of course. I’ve seen him in class. Pretty. Quiet. Dresses like he owns a record store?”

“Exactly,” Yunho said, grinning. “Mysterious. Keeps to himself. Kind of hot in a bookish way.”

Mingi nodded slowly. “I’ve thought about it.”

“Oh, I know you have.” Yunho looked far too smug. “Which is why I’m betting you can’t get him to beg and cry on your cock by the end of next week.”

Mingi nearly choked. “ Excuse me?”

“Ten days. Starting today.” Yunho looked pleased as hell. “Wooyoung is smart. Reserved. Keeps his guard up. So it’ll be impressive if you can pull it off.”

Mingi sat back, mouth opening and closing as he processed. On one hand, what the fuck. On the other—Wooyoung. Pretty , sharp-eyed Wooyoung who always looked like he knew more than he let on. Mingi had never spoken to him directly, but there was something about his quiet composure that made Mingi want to get under his skin. Literally and metaphorically.

He grinned slowly. “So you want me to seduce your boyfriend’s best friend, emotionally and physically destroy him, and do it all before next week Thursday?”

Yunho shrugged. “I mean, if anyone can do it…”

“You’re a menace.”

“I’m a romantic,” Yunho corrected. “And I believe in you.”

Mingi stared at him for a second longer, then slapped his hand against the table. “Deal.”

“Seriously?”

“Fuck yeah.” Mingi's grin sharpened. “Wooyoung’s gorgeous. Mysterious. A walking challenge. I love a challenge.”

Yunho chuckled. “Just don’t break him.”

Mingi waved a hand. “I don’t break people. I ruin them, gently.”

They both burst out laughing, and when the bell tower chimed in the distance signaling the next block of classes, Mingi stood and dusted imaginary lint off his pants.

“Operation Ruin Wooyoung has officially begun,” he declared.

Yunho clapped him on the back. “ Godspeed , fuckboy.”

Mingi flipped him off with a grin and walked away already planning his approach. Wooyoung wasn’t just a conquest. He was a mystery Mingi couldn’t wait to unwrap—and if this challenge came with bragging rights and a little fun along the way?

Even better.

~

Mingi liked a challenge. He thrived on them. And there was something deliciously motivating about having a deadline. Ten days. Ten days to have the quiet, unreadable Wooyoung begging and crying on his cock.

He’d started strategizing the second he left lunch with Yunho. Which wasn’t that hard considering his next class just so happened to include the man himself.

As soon as Mingi strolled into the lecture hall, he spotted Wooyoung exactly where he expected him to be—back of the room, by the window, sunlight making his dark hair shine like some kind of comic book protagonist. The guy looked like he’d stepped out of a character select screen. Golden skin, all perfect angles and soft lips, his round glasses that Mingi is pretty sure don't actually have any lenses perched on his nose while he scribbled something in an immaculate notebook.

Mingi took a second to watch him unnoticed, biting the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Wooyoung looked… peaceful. Untouchable. Like someone who didn’t need the outside world to be entertained or satisfied. People didn’t sit near him. He didn’t invite it. He existed in his own orbit, with an invisible “no entry” sign above his head.

But that just made Mingi want to trespass even more .

Dragging his chair—loudly, and with no shame—across the floor, Mingi slid it to a halt right in front of Wooyoung’s desk and flopped down into it, sitting backwards so his arms could rest on the top rail. He leaned forward slightly, chin tilted, eyes narrowed as he took him in.

Wooyoung looked up slowly from his notes, blinking at him with a mild expression of confusion that read like 'Why is the school’s designated thirst trap staring directly into my soul?'

“You good?” Wooyoung asked, his voice low but clear, not particularly bothered—just curious.

Mingi smirked. “Better now.”

Wooyoung blinked again. “… What ?”

“You know,” Mingi said easily, cocking his head like it was the most natural thing in the world to flirt with a stranger five seconds after sitting down. “You’ve got the kind of face that makes people start writing bad poetry.”

That made Wooyoung pause. Really pause.

Then, to Mingi’s surprise and delight, Wooyoung huffed a small laugh—not loud, but sincere, his nose scrunching just a bit in amusement before he shook his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but his lips curved into a small smile.

Mingi’s grin widened. That laugh, short as it was, sounded real. Not polite, not awkward—just surprised and maybe a little amused by Mingi’s bullshit. Which meant Mingi was already in, according to his logic.

He just needed to dig his claws in and hold on.

“I’ve been called worse,” Mingi said, shrugging. “But since you didn’t immediately tell me to fuck off, I’m taking that as a good sign.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t look away. “Do you always flirt with people before class starts?”

“Only when they’re hot enough to make me forget what class I’m in.”

Wooyoung gave a light snort and glanced back at his notes for a second, lips twitching like he was trying not to encourage Mingi too much. But Mingi had already seen it—the way Wooyoung’s ears pinked just slightly, the way he tucked his hair behind his ear like a nervous tic, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

Yunho’s bet? In the bag.

The professor walked in a moment later, and Mingi reluctantly pushed away from Wooyoung’s desk. But not before flashing a quick, two-fingered “call me” gesture near his ear like a cheeky idiot. Only after he’d sauntered back across the room to his seat did he realize he hadn’t actually given Wooyoung his number.

But when he looked back, Wooyoung was smiling faintly to himself, like he didn’t really mind. That smile sent a very real thrill down Mingi’s spine.

Challenge accepted.

~

The next day was even better.

Mingi had planned on eating alone. Yunho had taken San out on a midweek date—some obnoxiously cute idea involving shared headphones and overpriced smoothies—so for the first time in a while, Mingi didn’t have his usual lunch buddy.

He was wandering the quad, scrolling through his phone without much intent, when he spotted Wooyoung walking toward the student center. His stride was slow, focused on whatever was on his own screen, and he looked effortlessly put-together in his casual jeans and oversized sweater, his throat length hair tucked behind his ears, a little curl brushing one side of his face in the breeze.

Mingi jogged up to meet him, falling into step beside him with a grin.

“Funny seeing you out in the wild,” Mingi teased. “I was starting to think you only existed in the back corner of that classroom.”

Wooyoung looked up, startled for only half a second before he recognized Mingi. “You again,” he said, smiling in that soft, unreadable way of his.

“I know, tragic for you,” Mingi said with mock sadness. “But hey—Yunho ditched me, so now I’m forcing you to be my lunch date.”

Wooyoung blinked at him, then gave a slow shrug. “Okay.”

“…Wait, really ?”

Wooyoung smiled. “San’s out with Yunho. I usually eat with him. But I don’t mind a change.”

Mingi blinked. He honestly hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

Then he noticed something else.

Up close, he could see that Wooyoung’s ears were pierced—multiple times—but there were no earrings in them. There was also a faint shadow of a stud hole on one side of his nose, like he used to wear something there but had taken it out a while ago.

Mingi's eyes lingering a second too long on the curve of Wooyoung’s ear before Wooyoung gave him a side-eye that clearly said 'watch it'.

But god, he was so pretty . Even without jewelry, even with those soft, dark nerdy aesthetics and the “don’t talk to me” aura, there was something magnetic about Wooyoung. The fact that he was walking next to Mingi now—willingly—made Mingi feel like he was toeing a line he really wanted to cross.

They ended up at a bench under the trees near the dining hall, Wooyoung pulling out a little bento box and Mingi stealing half of his sweet potato fries from his own tray.

Conversation was surprisingly easy. Wooyoung wasn’t shy. He wasn’t overly talkative either—but when Mingi made jokes or told a ridiculous story about Yunho tripping into a trash can during freshman orientation, Wooyoung’s soft laugh was there, quiet and genuine. He watched people as they passed. Made dry, clever comments when someone’s speaker was blaring obnoxious TikTok audio. And the more they talked, the more Mingi realized how much Wooyoung noticed things.

Noticed him.

It made Mingi warm all over.

He couldn’t help wondering—did Wooyoung already know what he was trying to do? Everyone on campus knew Mingi liked guys. Hooked up often. Had a particular taste. He didn’t scream it to the world, but he didn’t hide it either. Wooyoung wasn’t dumb. If he didn’t already guess the game, he’d figure it out soon.

And the crazy part? Mingi didn’t think Wooyoung would mind.

Wooyoung leaned back a little, sipping his drink, his lashes low over his eyes. “So… why me?”

Mingi blinked. “What?”

“I mean,” Wooyoung said, eyes glinting with something sharp and amused, “you could sit next to anyone. Flirt with anyone. But now you’re here.”

Mingi let the words settle in the air between them before he answered, slow and honest. “Because you’re hot. And you don’t talk to anyone. Which just makes me want to talk to you more.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.

“Also,” Mingi added, tilting his head, “you’ve got this thing going on where you pretend to be all mysterious and untouchable, but I see through it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re soft,” Mingi teased, grinning. “Admit it.”

Wooyoung took a long, deliberate sip of his drink before saying flatly, “You’re very annoying .”

Mingi laughed. “That’s not a no.”

And Wooyoung just smiled.

~

Mingi hadn’t expected this part to be… nice .

He was used to flirtations that burned bright and fast—quick, electric hookups, maybe a couple days of shared memes and messy hair, and then a clean break. But Wooyoung? Wooyoung was something else.

In the days that followed their lunch together, they just… clicked. They shared space easily, the silences not awkward but almost comfortable, like they were both perfectly fine existing in each other’s orbit without having to fill the air with nonsense. And when they did talk, it was good. Wooyoung was sharp. He listened more than he spoke, but when he did speak, it was with intention, and Mingi found himself hanging on to every word just to keep hearing him talk.

They started sitting next to each other in class. Not touching. Not overtly flirting. Just passing notes sometimes—Wooyoung’s were usually sarcastic responses to whatever bullshit Mingi whispered—and occasionally brushing shoulders as they packed up to leave. The touches were light but noticeable. Intentional.

One evening, Yunho had some late seminar or maybe he just said that so he could go with San off to another disgustingly cute movie date, Mingi wasn’t really sure, but it meant the dorm was free. Wooyoung didn’t seem fazed by the invitation to come over and study—he showed up on time, textbooks tucked under one arm and dressed in soft-looking jeans and an oversized hoodie with a neckline just wide enough to expose the delicate slope of his collarbone.

Mingi had to physically drag his eyes away more than once.

They actually did study, for the most part—Wooyoung sitting cross-legged on Mingi’s bed while Mingi worked from his desk chair. There was music playing low in the background, something chill and non-distracting, and every now and then they’d share a comment or a stupid joke or a snort about something in their textbooks. It felt easy. Like they’d done it a dozen times before.

Mingi had been watching him for the past few minutes, not even bothering to pretend he was reading anymore. Wooyoung had one hand lazily turning pages while the other played with the strings of his hoodie. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes a little. He was biting the inside of his cheek, entirely unaware of how much he was making Mingi want to ruin him.

But also…not just that.

Mingi didn’t know when it had shifted. Maybe during the lunch they shared two days ago when Wooyoung picked the sesame seeds off Mingi’s bento without asking. Maybe when Wooyoung casually complimented his cologne. Or maybe earlier today, when Wooyoung had rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and Mingi noticed the faint shadow of drawn on tattoos done better than he could have expected.

He wasn’t sure. But it had shifted.

~

He stood and crossed the room quietly, stepping between Wooyoung’s legs on the edge of the bed. Wooyoung blinked up at him, expression unreadable but not wary.

“Can I kiss you?” Mingi asked, soft and low, more nervous than he expected to be.

Wooyoung didn’t look surprised. He just tilted his head, thoughtful for half a second, then nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Mingi leaned in slowly, watching Wooyoung’s eyes flutter shut at the last moment. The kiss was… gentle. Far gentler than Mingi was used to. It wasn’t greedy or hurried or even meant to lead anywhere. It was just a kiss. Intentional. Soft. Warm.

And god, it felt good .

Wooyoung tasted faintly of green tea and mint. His lips moved with a kind of quiet confidence, not forceful but firm. When Mingi deepened the kiss just a little, Wooyoung made a tiny hum of approval in his throat that Mingi swore he’d hear in his dreams tonight.

When they finally pulled apart, Wooyoung blinked up at him, eyes a little dazed but not shocked.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna actually ask,” Wooyoung murmured, lips curved in a slight smile.

Mingi grinned. “Wasn’t sure if you’d let me.”

“I figured you’d try anyway.”

“Maybe I’m soft for you.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Now that I don’t believe.”

Mingi just laughed, settling down beside him on the bed and reaching over to tap the corner of Wooyoung’s textbook. “We should probably finish this before I forget what class it’s for.”

They didn’t kiss again that night. But they sat closer after that. Their thighs touched. Mingi stole Wooyoung’s highlighter just to hear him mutter under his breath. They stayed like that until past midnight, curled up and working until both their eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

Mingi was used to keeping things casual. Light. Detached.

But that night, as he watched Wooyoung walk down the hallway, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands and headphones snug in his ears, Mingi realized that he hadn’t thought about the deadline with Yunho once since the kiss.

He still wanted to sleep with Wooyoung. Badly .

But he also wanted to keep talking to him in between classes. Wanted to watch him pick at his food and smile when Mingi teased him. Wanted to hear more about his major, about why he didn't wear his piercings anymore, about what he looked like when he wasn’t trying to fit into anyone else’s expectations.

Fuck .

Maybe he wanted more than just the win.

He wasn’t sure what it was—maybe friendship, maybe something messier, maybe nothing at all—but whatever it was, it was getting under his skin. And if things kept going like this, he was going to win this bet in the best way possible.

~

By day ten, Mingi knew he was screwed .

Not in the way Yunho meant. Not in the way he meant either when he agreed to that cocky little bet. He was screwed in the dangerously sentimental way—because whatever this thing with Wooyoung was turning into, it wasn’t just about getting his dick wet and making Wooyoung beg in the process.

Mingi hadn’t expected Wooyoung to be so... easy to like.

They spent almost every day together, in or outside of class. They shared memes, swapped music recommendations, even started doing stupid little study challenges like whoever finished their assignments first got to pick their hangout spot for the day. Mingi always cheated. Wooyoung always knew. Neither of them brought it up.

When Wooyoung invited him over that Friday, the final day of the bet, Mingi felt a jolt of victory.

And something else.

He’d been so focused on winning—but now that it was here, it wasn’t about proving anything to Yunho anymore. It felt like more just about spending time with Wooyoung. About seeing where this night would take them.

San was out on another date with Yunho, and Wooyoung had texted Mingi a casual “come over if you’re free tonight :)” like they hadn’t been dancing around each other for days now, both of them waiting for the exact right moment to pounce.

Mingi stood in front of his closet longer than he’d like to admit. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he also didn’t want to show up looking like he just rolled out of bed. Eventually, he threw on a soft grey knit shirt that hugged his chest and some black jeans, spritzing a light touch of cologne—something warm and a little musky that Yunho once said made him smell expensive.

It wasn’t until he was on the doorstep, one ring away from seeing Wooyoung again, that he realized how much his heart was hammering in his chest.

The door opened with a soft click.

Wooyoung stood there in pajamas—dark, silky, and borderline luxurious, like he belonged in some dreamy indie romance film. The color was almost black, but in the warm light of the hallway, it bloomed purple against his skin. His black as midnight hair was soft and a little messy, like he hadn’t bothered to fix it after letting it dry naturally. And fuck, that skin—glowing and golden and bare at the collarbones, thanks to the pajama top being unbuttoned a few notches.

Mingi’s brain promptly melted.

Wooyoung blinked once, smiled slow. “Are you gonna stare at me all night or are you coming in?”

Mingi cleared his throat, stepped past him into the dorm, mumbling something half-coherent like, “Can’t help it if you’re distracting .” He was glad his back was turned for that comment—Wooyoung’s laugh came a moment later and hit him square in the chest.

~

The dorm itself was exactly what Mingi expected and also somehow not at all. There were books everywhere—on shelves, under shelves, stacked in little piles beside plants and figurines. He spotted at least three volumes of Plato, a book of Shakespeare sonnets, and a spine labeled Astrophysics for People in a Hurry.

But there was also Wooyoung. Posters on the wall—The Garden, The Cure, and She Wants Revenge. A string of yellow LED lights pinned to the ceiling. And on the far wall, hanging above the desk, a maroon electric guitar with gold hardware gleamed like a secret.

“You play?” Mingi asked, half-turning toward him with awe still painting his face.

Wooyoung shut the door with a soft click. “Yeah,” he said casually, walking past him toward the couch. “But not for an audience.”

Mingi followed, already imagining what it’d sound like. Wooyoung, strumming that guitar with those pretty hands, probably barefoot in these exact pajamas. The image made his stomach flip.

They settled in on the couch with a little back-and-forth about what movie to put on, eventually landing on something vaguely drama with a critically-acclaimed soundtrack and a vague plot neither of them really paid attention to.

Mingi’s eyes were elsewhere. More specifically, on the man curled into his side, one hand resting lightly against Mingi’s chest.

Wooyoung smelled like cedarwood and laundry detergent. His skin was warm where it pressed against Mingi’s. His lashes fluttered when he blinked, his lips slightly parted, pink and soft.

Mingi was losing it.

This was the last day of the bet. And yes, he was pretty sure he was going to win it—but he couldn’t pretend this was just a game anymore. He liked Wooyoung. He liked the snark, the gentle smiles, the way Wooyoung would bump their shoulders together when Mingi made a bad joke. He liked his brain and his fashion sense and the delicious curve of his nose and the way his tongue peeked from those perfect lips when he was focused.

And he really liked those lips.

Especially when Wooyoung looked up at him, caught him staring, and just… smiled.

A slow, smug, knowing smile.

Mingi was already leaning in by the time Wooyoung tilted his head slightly in response. Their lips met softly—no rush, no pressure. Just a gentle press of lips that lasted two seconds, maybe three.

When Mingi pulled back, Wooyoung didn’t say anything. Just leaned in again, kissing him this time with more intention. His fingers slid lightly up Mingi’s chest. His mouth moved slow but firm, like he was savoring the moment.

Mingi could barely breathe.

That second kiss turned into a third. And then a fourth, messier one. Their bodies shifted, mouths open, tongues brushing. Mingi’s hands moved up Wooyoung’s sides, under the fabric of the pajama shirt. Wooyoung’s hips rolled once, lazily, into the kiss.

By the time Mingi gently eased Wooyoung down against the couch cushions, climbing between his legs with a low groan of satisfaction, Wooyoung didn’t resist in the slightest. He sprawled across the couch like he belonged there, one arm above his head and the other tugging Mingi closer by the front of his shirt.

Victory , Mingi thought, a little breathless, is so fucking sweet.

He braced his arms on either side of Wooyoung’s head, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes and a smirk on his face. “Still think I was staring too much earlier?”

Wooyoung’s mouth curved into something devious. “I know you were.”

And Mingi laughed. Loud and bright and surprised by how light he felt.

Wooyoung tangled a hand in his hair and tugged him back down for another kiss.

~

Mingi could feel the shift in energy before Wooyoung even opened his mouth.

They’d been making out for a while now—longer than he expected, honestly, given how quickly most of his flings escalated—but somehow this was still better. Better because Wooyoung kissed like he meant it, slow and deep and tasting like something Mingi hadn’t realized he was starving for. Every time Wooyoung tugged gently on Mingi’s lower lip or let out the softest little hum into his mouth, Mingi thought he might lose it. So when Wooyoung finally pulled back, just slightly, his lips red and a little glossy, Mingi was already dizzy from it all.

And then Wooyoung spoke.

“Do you want to suck me off?”

The words weren’t just casual. There was weight to them, a tone of control barely restrained under his usual softness, and Mingi’s cock twitched from the way Wooyoung delivered it like an offer and a command in one.

Mingi blinked once, brain catching up to the sentence, and then he grinned, wide and bright and delighted. “ Fuck yes, ” he said, already moving to slide off the couch. “You don’t even have to ask me twice.”

He dropped to his knees in front of Wooyoung, hands already reaching for the waistband of those silky pajama pants that had been driving him nuts since the second the door opened. Wooyoung shifted to sit up a bit straighter, legs falling open naturally to accommodate Mingi's presence between them, and the spread alone was enough to short-circuit Mingi's higher thinking.

He pressed a kiss to Wooyoung’s knee through the fabric as he started undoing the knot of the drawstring, trying to be smooth, sexy, a little charming. It was what he did best—being the confident flirt, the shameless tease. But his hands felt the slightest bit clumsy now, not because he was nervous, but because he was too eager. He tugged the pants and boxers down together, slow enough not to seem desperate, but inside his heart was pounding, anticipation curling tight in his stomach like he was doing this for the first time.

He didn’t mean to stare.

His hands stilled where they were wrapped around the waistband of Wooyoung’s pants, and his eyes went comically wide, jaw just slightly slack. He’d been expecting Wooyoung to be hot, of course. From the first moment he’d noticed the delicate dip of Wooyoung’s collarbones and the smooth curve of his waist, he knew the man had to be attractive all over—but this?

This was another level.

Wooyoung’s cock was big. Thick and long, with a slight curve upward and a heavy weight to it that made Mingi’s throat dry. But what made Mingi actually forget how to breathe was what adorned it.

Piercings.

Not just one, but multiple .

A shiny horizontal bar through the tip—ampallang, if Mingi’s brief dive into unusual piercings had him remembering correctly—and two smaller metal bars along the underside. The glint of the silver against flushed, veiny skin made his brain fizzle and reboot. He hadn’t even known something like this could turn him on so much.

“Holy shit, ” he breathed out, reverent and a little breathless.

Wooyoung laughed.

It was low and delighted, and Mingi could feel the smirk in it before he even looked up. “That’s usually the reaction I get,” Wooyoung said, voice warm with amusement. “Though it’s funnier when it comes from someone who’s been trying to flirt me out of my pants for a week straight.”

Mingi’s face flushed. Not because he was embarrassed—well, okay, maybe a little—but more because he didn’t know how to bounce back from this. His brain was short-circuiting from lust, and maybe a little bit of awe, and the casual way Wooyoung was just sitting there like he didn’t know he had the most dangerous dick Mingi had ever seen.

“Do they—?” Mingi started, then stopped, licking his lips. “Do they feel as good as they look?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wooyoung said, smug as hell, “you’re about to find out.”

And that was the moment Mingi realized he was absolutely not in control of this situation.

Not that he was complaining.

~

Still on his knees, Mingi wrapped a hand around Wooyoung’s length, testing the weight of it, running his fingers lightly over the cool metal of the piercings. Wooyoung twitched under his touch, a soft breath escaping his lips, but he didn’t say anything. He let Mingi explore at his own pace, but there was something about his posture—relaxed, legs still wide, head tilted slightly down to watch Mingi work—that made it very clear who was holding the leash here.

Mingi didn’t mind. In fact, his whole body thrilled at the dynamic shift.

He leaned in and started slow, tongue flicking out to trace the bar of the glans piercing, then down along the ladder, the contrast of warmth and coolness making his head spin. Wooyoung hissed at the contact, a hand threading into Mingi’s hair gently—not tugging, not yet, just there.

Encouraging .

Mingi took the tip into his mouth, suckling softly, and looked up.

Wooyoung’s gaze was already on him, dark and steady and just the tiniest bit amused, and when their eyes met, Mingi groaned around him. He slid down slowly, taking in as much as he could, letting the piercings drag against his tongue, foreign and exhilarating. He could feel every inch, every shift, every shudder Wooyoung gave, and it made Mingi’s cock throb in his jeans.

He didn’t last long before he needed more.

After a few minutes, he pulled back, panting softly, a string of spit still connecting them as he whispered, “You should fuck my mouth.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow.

“ Oh ?” he said, voice light but with steel beneath. “You sure?”

Mingi nodded, eager, barely holding back the whine. “Please.”

That was all it took.

Wooyoung stood up, slow and purposeful, and Mingi’s breath caught as Wooyoung’s fingers wove into his hair—not painfully tight, just firm. Guiding. Dominant. Mingi settled more comfortably on his knees, looking up at Wooyoung with wide eyes, and that earned him another smirk.

He started thrusting with minimal warning.

He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t too cruel yet either.

He set a pace that was intense and unrelenting, using Mingi’s hair as leverage while he rolled his hips forward, the thick weight of him sliding deep into Mingi’s throat. Mingi gagged once, adjusting, but he pushed through it, eyes watering as he let Wooyoung use him exactly how he wanted.

He fucked Mingi’s throat like it was made for him, and Mingi couldn’t stop the moans that vibrated around him, hands clenching into the fabric of Wooyoung’s pajama pants as he let himself be used. Drool dripped down his chin, and he was sure he looked wrecked, but he didn’t care. The sounds Wooyoung was making—the deep groans, the hitched breaths, the murmured curses—made every second worth it.

Mingi knew he was in heaven.

He also knew when Wooyoung was close.

Mingi could feel the way Wooyoung started to tense, the subtle shift in how tightly his fingers gripped his hair, the slight tremble in his thighs. But before he could even think to brace himself, Wooyoung thrust in one final time and came.

Mingi gagged hard, coughing as the heat hit the back of his throat, but he swallowed as much as he could—eyes fluttering closed, throat working reflexively around it. It was messy and overwhelming, and Mingi fucking loved it.

When Wooyoung finally let go of his hair, Mingi pulled back with a gasp, coughing once more, lips swollen and slick with spit, eyes glassy and red-rimmed from the force of it. His knees ached, but he didn’t move.

He just looked up at Wooyoung through his lashes, tongue peeking out slightly as he caught the taste of him still on his lips.

Wooyoung was looking down at him with something unreadable in his expression—half awe, half desire, maybe a dash of concern too—but mostly just satisfaction.

Mingi grinned, dizzy and glowing.

“Well,” he rasped, “that was… fuck .”

Wooyoung laughed again, reaching down to gently tuck a strand of hair behind Mingi’s ear.

“I hope that didn't tire you out too much,” he said softly. “I have so much more planned for you.”

And Mingi, already boneless on the floor, could only smile back.

~

It took Mingi a moment to catch his breath.

His throat was raw, his lips swollen, and he could still taste Wooyoung on his tongue. His head was a little floaty, his brain slow to catch up to everything that had just happened—but he didn’t want to slow down. He didn’t want soft or slow, not right now. He wanted more. Rougher. Meaner.

He looked up at Wooyoung, whose thumb was gently stroking along the edge of Mingi’s jaw, still watching him like he was something worth admiring. Mingi licked his lips and swallowed, voice rough as he spoke.

“You can do anything to me.”

Wooyoung blinked once.

“I know the traffic light system,” Mingi added quickly, meeting Wooyoung’s gaze head-on even though his cheeks flushed from the admission. “I’ll use it if I need it. Just…” He shifted slightly on his knees. “Go to town on me, like really let me have it, please.”

The change in Wooyoung was instant.

That softness vanished from his face in a flash, replaced by something far darker, far more controlling. It was like flipping a switch. The still present warmth in his eyes turned sharp, calculated. His mouth twisted into something cruel and delighted, and Mingi’s entire body lit up with anticipation.

“ Fuck ,” Wooyoung breathed, almost like a laugh, eyes raking over him with new intensity. “You really are a little slut , huh?”

The words hit Mingi’s chest like a jolt of electricity, his eyes widening a bit. His cock twitched in his jeans.

Wooyoung smirked at that. “Oh?” He stepped a smidge closer, tilting Mingi’s chin up roughly with one hand. “You like being called a slut? A desperate little whore for me to use?”

Mingi whined.

He didn’t even mean to. It just slipped out of his throat like a reflex, like his body was speaking before his brain could catch up.

Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled. “ Pathetic .”

Mingi couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through his body.

“Get up,” Wooyoung said sharply, tone brooking no argument. “Now.”

Mingi scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly stumbled. Wooyoung just watched with that cold smirk as Mingi regained his balance, still panting a little from earlier, every nerve already burning with need. Wooyoung turned without another word and started walking toward the bedroom.

Mingi followed along like a desperate puppy.

~

The shared bedroom was small—barely big enough for the two full-size beds and a dresser—but Mingi wasn’t paying attention to the furniture. He was too busy watching the way Wooyoung’s shoulder blades shifted under the thin fabric of his pajama top, the casual grace of his walk, the way he radiated control now. Wooyoung reached the bed, turned, and shoved Mingi hard.

Mingi landed on the mattress with a bounce and a sharp gasp, eyes wide.

“You’re so easy to handle,” Wooyoung muttered, already crawling over him, straddling his hips with casual dominance. “Like you want to be tossed around.”

“I do,” Mingi said immediately, breathless. “I really fucking do.”

Wooyoung laughed, and it was mean. “Of course you do.”

He didn’t waste time.

He moved off of his lap fast, his hands moving faster, grabbing at Mingi’s jeans, yanking the button open, forcing the zipper down. Mingi tried to help, but Wooyoung smacked his hands away. “Did I ask for help?”

“No,” Mingi whimpered, breath catching in his throat.

“Then don’t fucking touch.”

Mingi whimpered again and let his hands fall to the bed.

Wooyoung got his jeans off in record time, and then his hands found the waistband of Mingi’s boxers. He didn’t even bother to pull them down gently—he ripped. The fabric tore at the seam, not fully ruined but definitely fraying as Wooyoung tugged them down and tossed them off the side of the bed.

“Oops,” Wooyoung said without remorse. “Hope those weren’t your favorites.”

Mingi’s cock throbbed against his stomach.

“Fold,” Wooyoung ordered, and before Mingi could even ask what he meant, the smaller man was grabbing his legs and folding him in half, thighs pressed to his chest, knees spread wide as Wooyoung stared down at him.

It was a position Mingi had fantasized about—but never really experienced like this. Wooyoung pinned him there with one hand on the back of his thigh and then spat, right between Mingi’s cheeks, before leaning in and licking a slow, wet stripe up his hole.

Mingi choked on his own moan.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “Oh fuck— fuck , Wooyoung—”

“Shut up,” Wooyoung muttered into his skin, voice already muffled by the obscene sounds of his tongue working Mingi open.

Mingi couldn’t shut up.

He tried, he really did, but Wooyoung was feasting on him. There was no other word for it. He licked, prodded, pushed in with his tongue and then pulled back just to slap Mingi’s thigh and spit again before going back in. It was filthy and perfect. Mingi writhed beneath him, hands fisting the sheets, moaning uncontrollably as his walls clenched around nothing.

Wooyoung pulled back eventually, chin slick, and reached for the lube.

“ Beg .”

Mingi looked up at him, dazed. “What?”

“Beg me to fuck you,” Wooyoung said, voice low and dangerous. “Beg for this cock. Beg like the nasty fucking slut you are.”

Mingi blushed harder than he ever has before.

He should be ashamed. He should. But his body was on fire and his brain was melting and all he could think was yes.

“Please,” he said, voice trembling. “Please, Youngie, I need it—I want it so bad. I want your cock, I want to feel you stretch me open, I want you to ruin me—please, just use me—make me your fucktoy, please—”

Wooyoung grinned.

“That’s better.”

He slicked his fingers with lube and pushed one inside, making Mingi gasp and jolt, his legs still held open in that humiliating, perfect fold. Wooyoung didn’t go easy. He added a second finger quickly, scissoring them, curling them just right until Mingi was moaning again, high and breathless and twitching with every stroke.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Wooyoung muttered. “Did I get you this fucked out just from a little rimming? Jesus .”

“Don’t stop,” Mingi begged. “ Please , I need you—”

“Oh, you’ll get me, you don't need to worry about that.”

Wooyoung pulled his fingers out, lined himself up, and didn’t give Mingi a warning.

He pushed in, slow but deliberate, the blunt head of his cock pressing in until the silver bar through his glans caught ever so slightly and stretched Mingi just a bit wider, and Mingi’s pretty sure he screamed. It wasn’t pain. Not really. It was too much, too hot, too good, too everything . He felt every single ridge, every piercing dragging along his inner walls like fire, the bars lining the underside of his cock adding new sensations that he couldn't even comprehend.

When Wooyoung bottomed out with a solid thrust, hips flush to his ass, Mingi’s body snapped.

He came.

Hard .

It was instant, blinding, mind-breaking. His cock pulsed untouched against his belly, ropes of cum painting his chest as he sobbed out a moan so high and loud it made his throat ache. His entire body shook with the force of it, muscles tensing and then relaxing all at once, and he couldn’t even process what had just happened.

Wooyoung didn’t move.

Just hovered over him, still buried deep inside, blinking like he couldn’t quite believe it either.

“You just—” he started, then laughed, breathless. “You came already ?”

Mingi whimpered.

“I didn't say you could do that, did I?” Wooyoung said, voice cold now, sharp around the edges.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Mingi whispered, wrecked. “It was too much—”

“Maybe if I punish you, you'll learn how to behave .”

The idea in itself made Mingi moan.

~

Mingi barely had a second to breathe after his threat of punishment before Wooyoung was pulling out of him, slow and deliberate, dragging every ridge and piercing along Mingi’s wet, fluttering rim. It made him whimper, the sound embarrassingly weak as his body clenched around nothing.

“F-fuck…” Mingi gasped, chest heaving, trembling already.

Wooyoung’s hands trailed down his thighs, and then he was standing, stepping away from the bed with a purposeful silence that sent a chill up Mingi’s spine. He watched Wooyoung move to his desk, open the drawer with the big sticker that just said W, and pull out… toys.

Mingi blinked.

Nipple clamps. A cockring.

And that look on Wooyoung’s face.

That satisfied, sadistic smile that Mingi was beginning to associate with getting absolutely wrecked.

Wooyoung turned to him with the toys in hand, casually walking back like he wasn’t about to ruin him from being able to be fucked by anyone else, not that he'd want to after how he's been feeling with Wooyoung.

“What’s your color?” Wooyoung asked, soft but expectant, kneeling beside him on the bed.

Mingi’s breath hitched, but his answer was clear. “Green.”

He watched Wooyoung’s grin spread, slow and wolfish. The clamps were cool metal in his fingers, but his touch was careful as he brought them to Mingi’s chest, rolling each nipple between his fingers to get them hard before sliding the clamps into place.

Mingi jerked the moment the clamps snapped shut, a high noise leaving his throat before he could stop it. It stung— fuck , it stung—but it also buzzed straight down to his already overstimulated cock.

Wooyoung laughed under his breath. “Sensitive, huh?”

Mingi didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His brain was scrambled from the sensations already, and Wooyoung wasn’t even done.

The cockring came next. Wooyoung stroked his softening dick a little to get it plump enough to fit the ring, and even that slight contact made Mingi twitch and whimper. He could feel how slick he was, leaking despite the fact that he’d already came once, and the ring slid into place snugly at the base.

“Won’t be able to do much more than leak now,” Wooyoung said smugly, giving Mingi’s cock a light, mean slap. “But I think that’s all this dumb big thing’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

Mingi moaned, his hips twitching up involuntarily.

“And look at you—still dripping. From one orgasm. That’s all you’ve got in you?” Wooyoung teased, tapping the tip with two fingers and then giving it another slap. “Fucking pathetic.”

Mingi gasped. His body was wound so tight he could barely think, and the harsh words only made him hotter. He let out a needy noise, legs spreading wider without him even realizing, and Wooyoung clicked his tongue.

“You’re so gross for liking this,” Wooyoung said, tugging on the little chain connecting the clamps, and Mingi nearly arched off the bed.

“F-fuck—ah—”

“You should get these pierced,” Wooyoung said casually, tugging the chain again. “Imagine how hot you’d look with little barbells right here, always ready for me to twist and pull.”

Mingi whimpered. His cock gave another helpless twitch.

~

Wooyoung let go of the chain and leaned back over him, spreading Mingi’s thighs again with practiced ease. He grabbed Mingi’s cock and flicked it again, then smirked when Mingi whimpered from the sensitivity.

“You’re really just a fucktoy like this, huh?” Wooyoung said, voice low and dark. “No thoughts, just begging to be ruined.”

“Y-yeah,” Mingi panted. “Please—just fuck me again, please—”

“Oh, now you’re begging again?” Wooyoung taunted, rubbing his cock between Mingi’s cheeks and watching the way Mingi’s hole fluttered. “I should make you ask better than that.”

“Please, Wooyoung—please fill me up—use me—I’ll be good, I promise—”

“You came without permission. That’s not very good boy behavior,” Wooyoung snapped, but Mingi saw the way his jaw tightened and his pupils dilated.

Without another word, Wooyoung grabbed Mingi’s hips and slammed into him again, all in one go.

Mingi choked on a scream.

He was already so open from the prep work Wooyoung had done, but the stretch was just as devastating, every bar of metal dragging through his tight walls and making them flutter. The pain-punched pleasure shot through him like lightning, and he clutched at Wooyoung’s biceps, nails digging in without thinking.

Wooyoung didn’t stop.

He started thrusting, brutal and steady, and all Mingi could do was take it. His arms wrapped around Wooyoung’s shoulders, clutching him, but Wooyoung stayed upright, grabbing Mingi’s legs and folding him in half again so he could fuck him deeper, harder.

The bed creaked beneath them.

Mingi sobbed.

It was too much, and not enough.

Every thrust sent his pecs jiggling, the chain of the clamps pulling taut, and when Wooyoung deliberately yanked on it, Mingi let out the loudest moan yet — a ragged, shattered cry of pure pleasure.

“You’re fucking addicted to this,” Wooyoung growled. “You were made to be used like this.”

Mingi nodded, desperate, eyes wet and unfocused. “I-I love it, love it so much—please don’t stop—”

“Look at this cock,” Wooyoung said, wrapping a hand around Mingi’s shaft despite the ring. “Still fucking leaking. Didn’t even ask and it’s already trying to cum again.”

He gave Mingi another few strokes, hard and fast, before stopping entirely, just to be cruel.

“You’ll cum when I say. Not before.”

Mingi whimpered, but nodded again.

The rhythm didn’t slow. If anything, Wooyoung got rougher, slamming into him like he was trying to mold Mingi around the shape of his cock, and Mingi was melting under it. He could feel everything — the stretch, the heat, the relentless grind of metal inside him, the stinging clamps on his nipples, and the sharp, filthy words being hissed against his ear.

Then came the whispers.

“Gonna fill you up,” Wooyoung said, panting, voice dark and slow. “Wanna see it drip out of you. Wanna fuck it back in.”

Mingi cried out. “Yes—please—inside, I want it—”

“You’re gonna take all of it.”

The orgasm hit Wooyoung with a grunt and a shudder. He didn’t stop thrusting, his rhythm only stuttering slightly as he came deep inside, hips jerking, filling Mingi’s wrecked hole with warmth. Mingi moaned at the feeling, feeling the slick drip already starting.

But Wooyoung wasn’t done.

He pulled out just enough to reach down, slip the cockring off Mingi’s cock, and then immediately started jerking him hard, fast, unforgiving.

Mingi was already teetering on the edge. He barely lasted ten seconds.

He came with a loud, sobbing cry, white streaks painting his stomach, his thighs, even his chest. His hips twitched as Wooyoung kept jerking, pushing him into overstimulation so quickly it felt like he was short-circuiting.

“W-Wooyoung—ah, fuck—it’s too much—too much—”

Only when his body tensed, a real, bitten-off whimper rising in his throat, did Wooyoung finally stop.

He leaned in, licking some of the cum off Mingi’s chest with a filthy little hum, then pressing soft kisses over his abused nipples, unclipping the clamps carefully.

Mingi shuddered at the release, the tingling ache like a spark lighting up his nerves.

Wooyoung cleaned him up with slow, gentle care, wiping him down with tissues and a warm rag he quickly grabbed from the bathroom, murmuring little praises now that the scene had passed.

Mingi was floating.

Completely boneless , fucked-out, blissed beyond recognition.

Wooyoung finally laid down beside him, pulling him close and stroking his side.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Mingi nodded against his chest, eyes fluttering shut. “So beyond okay.”

~

Mingi must have dozed off for a minute—if not physically, then mentally. His body was soft and heavy against the mattress, skin flushed and oversensitive, but his heart? It was floating somewhere in the stars.

Wooyoung’s fingers were gentle, trailing little circles over the side of his hip as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Mingi’s jaw. “You back with me?”

Mingi cracked an eye open and offered a lazy, dopey grin. “Yeah. That was…”

“Intense?” Wooyoung teased, brushing back a damp strand of Mingi’s hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Mingi nodded, sighing. “But in the best way. You’re dangerous, you know that?”

Wooyoung smirked. “Only when someone begs for it.”

Mingi gave a little snort and let his head flop back into the pillow. Every inch of his body ached in the most delicious way. His thighs felt shaky, his ass thoroughly used, and his cock still a little too sensitive even after cleanup, but it was all muted under the heavier sensation of satisfaction and safety. It was never like this after his hookups. This was new.

Wooyoung pulled away only briefly to grab clothes for the both of them—his own, obviously, because Mingi’s boxers were torn and his jeans wouldn’t feel good to slip back into right now. He handed Mingi a soft cotton t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, and Mingi blinked at them before grinning.

“I’m gonna stretch these out.”

“Worth it,” Wooyoung said simply.

The shirt clung to his shoulders, the shorts barely covered half his thighs, but it was cozy and warm and smelled like Wooyoung. Once Mingi was dressed, Wooyoung helped him up and into the living room, an arm around his waist the whole time as if he were fragile glass.

The couch cushions were still warm from earlier, the movie still paused from when they’d abandoned it. Wooyoung settled himself down first, stretching out lazily, and Mingi followed without hesitation, crawling up to lay on his side across Wooyoung’s lap like a giant, cuddly housecat. His cheek pressed against Wooyoung’s thigh, hands curled lightly around his knee. He felt soft, warm, and needy. He always got like this after intense scenes—wanted to be held, coddled, given little forehead kisses and slow pets until he melted entirely.

Wooyoung knew that, clearly, because one hand was combing gently through his hair, the other resting low on his back, tracing little half-moons with his thumb. Mingi sighed into the fabric of Wooyoung’s pants. “So… boyfriends?”

Wooyoung paused for a second, then leaned down with a small smirk. “You’re asking now?”

“Wanted to make sure I wasn’t just, like, a fun night you know?”

“You were fun,” Wooyoung teased, tugging lightly on a lock of his hair. “But you are still a person. A hot person who sucks dick like it’s his career, but a person.”

Mingi flushed. “You’re awful .”

“You like me awful.”

Mingi smiled into his thigh. “Boyfriends?”

Wooyoung nodded. “Boyfriends.”

It was as simple as that.

~

They restarted the movie—not that Mingi was paying attention—and just let the minutes pass like that. It felt peaceful. Whole. His body ached, his limbs barely moved, and his heart felt lighter than it had in a while.

He was just drifting toward sleep again when the door creaked open.

“I’m telling you,” Yunho’s voice said, laughing as the front door clicked shut behind them, “you looked amazing in that shirt. Babe, back me up.”

“I am backing you up,” San replied, laughing too. “I said you looked hot.”

“I didn’t say hot, I said amazing. You need to learn the difference—”

They both rounded the corner—and stopped dead in their tracks.

Mingi, blissed out and flushed, was sprawled across Wooyoung’s lap like a spoiled pet. Wooyoung looked smug and not even slightly disheveled, despite the fact that he’d just wrecked Mingi thoroughly not long ago. And Mingi… well, he wasn’t doing much to hide the aftermath.

His hair was a mess, his lips puffy and pink, cheeks still stained with heat. When he tried to speak—maybe to toss out one of his usual cocky, post-sex quips—only a broken squeak came out.

He coughed, then tried again. “Hey—”

Crack. His voice gave out once more, raspy and unusable.

Yunho blinked, then burst out laughing. “No fucking way.”

Mingi let out a miserable little whine and promptly rolled to face the other direction, hiding his face in Wooyoung’s shirt like a pouty child. Wooyoung didn’t miss a beat, just chuckled and resumed petting Mingi’s hair with slow, soothing strokes.

“ Wow ,” Yunho said, still staring. “So… that happened?”

“You challenged me,” Mingi muttered into Wooyoung’s shirt, voice hoarse but audible. “And I think I just got fucked into next week.” He peeked up at Yunho, not even trying to hide his awe, and added with a scratchy voice full of wonder, “He has so many piercings.”

San choked, caught off guard by the bluntness. “What?”

Yunho snorted and collapsed into the chair beside San. “Okay, yeah. That’s on me. I did challenge him. Still… holy shit.”

“I—I feel like this bet worked better than you both expected,” San said quietly, peeking over at Wooyoung and Mingi with wide, flustered eyes. “I’m glad that you both had a good time, both of you deserve it.” He fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, clearly unsure if he should even be commenting, though his voice was soft and genuine.

Mingi blinked at him. “Thanks,” he mumbled, surprisingly sincere.

Yunho, ever the instigator, gestured vaguely toward Wooyoung. “I’m just a little surprised you’re not, like… more shy about talking about… y’know…” He made a helpless gesture with both hands. “That kind of piercing.”

Mingi snorted but said nothing. He looked too smug to be embarrassed.

San, however, was bright red. He tugged at the sleeve of Yunho’s hoodie, trying to hide the way he was clearly overwhelmed. “Wooyoung’s only quiet around other people. When it’s just us, he’s, uh… not shy.”

Wooyoung let out a hum of agreement, fingers still lazily running through Mingi’s hair. “My mom was strict as hell. Super into appearances. I was a little shit in high school—pierced everything, bleached my hair, got into trouble for just about everything. Once I got to college, I decided to lay low and give her the version of me she always wanted to see.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “So the calm, mysterious guy thing is an act?”

“Basically.” Wooyoung shrugged. “No face piercings anymore, no drama, just vibes. But I kept the ones she never saw.”

Yunho squinted at him. “...The ones Mingi is now very familiar with.”

San made a mortified sound.

Mingi peeked up again with a dopey grin. “He’s stealth hot. You’d never guess with how quiet he is on campus.”

San hid his face in Yunho’s shoulder, mumbling something about “TMI” and “too many visuals.”

“You guys are the worst,” Yunho groaned, rubbing his face with both hands, but the flush in his cheeks gave away his secondhand embarrassment.

Mingi stretched out slightly, voice still croaky. “Still think you’re the only one who pulls?”

“Shut up,” Yunho grumbled, grabbing a throw blanket and half-covering his head. “Let’s just put on a movie and pretend I never made that bet.”

San was still tucked shyly against him, giggling softly into his shoulder. Wooyoung looked pleased with himself. And Mingi—well, Mingi looked utterly ruined and ridiculously content, eyes drooping in the warm glow of the living room, face still flushed and hair a total mess. He was fully dressed but looked like he’d stepped out of a very different kind of movie.

They all settled in again—Wooyoung and Mingi curled into one end of the couch, San tucked into Yunho’s lap on the oversized chair. Someone picked a silly romcom for their second movie of the night, and the living room filled with the soft flicker of light and low laughter.

Mingi’s breathing had finally evened out, his voice still shot but his heart content and calm in his chest.

Yunho stretched his legs out and looked across the room with a raised brow. “You technically won the bet, you know.”

Mingi raised a brow right back.

Yunho grinned. “But I’m still claiming a moral victory.”

Mingi narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “How?”

Yunho smirked. “ You were the one crying.”

Mingi huffed, grabbed a nearby pillow, and launched it across the room with all the strength his fucked-out body could manage. It smacked Yunho in the face and bounced off with a satisfying thwap, setting off San’s bright, startled laughter.

Mingi smiled against Wooyoung’s side. Wooyoung leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

The bet was over. But something real had started in its place.

~

Chapter 3: What Love Feels Like

Summary:

What starts as teasing and tension slowly grows into something deeper, pulling them both out of their comfort zones in ways neither expected. Between late-night conversations, messy kisses, and the vulnerability of first experiences, they find themselves unraveling in the best of ways.

Notes:

Hi lovelies!! Surprise, I made another chapter even though I told myself it would only be three in total (i'm just silly like that). Anyway, this chapter takes place between the events of the 1st and 2nd, unless the chapter specifically says otherwise, I hope you all enjoy some sweet, sweet Sani <3

The dorm was quiet in the most comforting way, sunlight fading through the window as golden hour painted soft amber stripes across the wall. The hum of Yunho’s laptop filled the room, a quiet, almost rhythmic backdrop to their easy chatter. Mingi was out for the evening—some campus event or other that neither of them had bothered asking too many details about—leaving Yunho and San with the dorm to themselves.

Yunho was sitting cross-legged in his desk chair, scrolling through something on his computer with one arm propped on the desk, the other occasionally fiddling with his mouse. He looked relaxed, warm, beautiful even in the simplicity of it all—his long legs stretched comfortably, hair tucked behind one ear, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth every time San said something funny or cute.

San, meanwhile, was curled up on Yunho’s bed, one cheek buried into the pillow, glasses pushed slightly up from how deep into the fabric he was snuggled. He would never admit it aloud, not even if bribed, but he was absolutely sniffing the pillow—quietly, subtly, trying to soak in the comforting scent of Yunho’s shampoo and cologne that clung to the bedding. It made him feel cocooned in safety, like this space really did belong to both of them now.

He was chattering about some random story from class—nervous babble more than anything—when he noticed Yunho shift. The chair squeaked slightly as Yunho slowly swiveled to face him before he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, expression unreadable but eyes soft, warm, affectionate. San’s words died in his throat the moment their gazes met. The shift in atmosphere was subtle, but immediate.

“Come here,” Yunho said gently, patting the empty space on the bed beside him.

San’s heart skipped, his face flushing deep red almost instantly. Still, he nodded and scooted forward, fixing his glasses nervously on the way. His limbs felt shaky, not because he didn’t want this, but because he wanted it so badly he didn’t know how to hold himself together.

Yunho waited until San was beside him, then leaned in slowly, giving him plenty of time to shy away if he wanted. But San didn’t. He tilted his face up to meet the kiss, heart fluttering like crazy, lips soft and pliant against Yunho’s. His eyelashes fluttered, cheeks burning, but he kissed back with genuine affection. The kiss wasn’t demanding—just slow and sweet, patient and coaxing.

Yunho’s hands settled lightly on San’s hips, fingers curling against the waistband of his jeans. San gasped softly into the kiss, just from that small contact, his hands instinctively grabbing at Yunho’s shoulders. He melted more and more with each press of Yunho’s lips, the familiarity of the affection helping quiet the nervous buzz in his chest.

They kissed for a long while—slow and exploratory—and San was growing breathless from how deeply Yunho kissed him. When Yunho pulled back just a little, brushing the tips of their noses together, he murmured softly, “Wanna take this a little further?”

San’s breath caught in his throat.

He blinked at him, startled, but not scared. “I… I think so?” he said, his voice whisper-soft. “I want to… I just… I’ve never… y’know…”

Yunho smiled gently, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We can just stop here.”

“No, no,” San said quickly, cheeks coloring. “I want to try. Just…it’s hard for me to…I’ve never undressed in front of someone before. Even just…y’know, partially.”

Yunho pulled back slightly to look at him, still close but no longer crowding. “Okay. What if I turn off the lights? Keep just the desk lamp on? I promise I won’t stare too much,” he added with a soft, teasing smile.

San looked nervous still, but he nodded, nibbling his bottom lip. “Okay…yeah. Let’s try that.”

Yunho stood and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the soft, warm glow of his desk lamp to paint the room in a cozy amber hue. The shadows deepened, making the room feel smaller, safer. More private.

San sat still for a long moment, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He avoided eye contact entirely, staring at the edge of the blanket as if it could offer guidance. Slowly, and with trembling hands, he lifted his hoodie and shirt over his head and folded it beside him. Then his fingers went to the button of his jeans, pausing several times before finally unfastening them and wiggling out, revealing pale thighs and dark boxers.

The moment he was down to just his underwear, San’s hands snapped up to cover his chest and stomach instinctively, his arms crossed tightly as his thighs clenched together. “D-Don’t look too much,” he mumbled.

Yunho, now sitting beside him again, nodded seriously. “I won’t. I’ll only look if you want me to.”

San stayed frozen, eyes wide behind his glasses. Even in the dim lighting, Yunho could see the fear and vulnerability in his posture, his shoulders curled inward like he expected to be judged.

So Yunho reached for the hem of his own sweatshirt and pulled it off, tossing it onto the bed. He stood to shimmy out of his sweatpants, now left in just his boxers to match San’s state of undress. “See?” he said softly. “Now we match. You don’t have to be nervous, its just me baby.”

San peeked over his glasses, eyes flicking nervously over Yunho’s body before darting back to the wall. “You’re just so… handsome,” he whispered. “And I’m just…”

Yunho reached over gently, touching his elbow. “You’re beautiful, San.”

San’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“Can I help you lower your arms?” Yunho asked, voice still calm, still patient.

San hesitated—then nodded, shaky and small.

Yunho leaned in and kissed his cheek first, then the corner of his mouth, and then kissed along his jaw while slowly easing San’s arms down. His eyes stayed low, not leering, not staring—just kissing and coaxing, murmuring praise between each touch.

“You’re perfect,” Yunho whispered. “Every part of you. You don’t have to hide from me.”

San trembled, face blazing red, but didn’t cover himself again. Instead, he turned his face into Yunho’s neck to hide the heat crawling over his cheeks.

“I’ve got you,” Yunho promised, one arm wrapping around his back as the other came to settle firmly at his waist.

And just like that, San melted again, relaxing into the calming pressure of Yunho’s hold on him. Not because the nervousness was gone—but because he trusted Yunho to hold him through it.

~

The kisses that followed lasted a while—slow and deep and searching, with San’s fingers clinging delicately to the curve of Yunho’s bare shoulder like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. His body trembled faintly with nerves, but his mouth—though uncertain—moved with wanting, with curiosity. Yunho didn’t rush him. He let San explore, let him lead as much as he was able, and only deepened their kisses when San leaned in more confidently, letting his hands roam only where San silently allowed.

It wasn’t perfect. San kept stuttering breathlessly against Yunho’s lips, his cheeks burning, and Yunho had to pause every so often to murmur soft encouragements, asking in the gentlest voice if he was okay. Each time, San would nod—sometimes quickly, sometimes tiny and shy—too flustered to speak. His glasses were already fogging from the closeness, and he kept pushing them up with one trembling hand like it would somehow help him hide.

After a while, Yunho pulled back just a bit, his voice hushed and warm. “Would it help if you were in my lap?”

San blinked at him, dazed. “Huh?”

“It’ll feel even better,” Yunho said softly, brushing a few strands of hair from San’s forehead. “And I’ll hold you. Only if you want to.”

San swallowed hard and nodded, the movement shy but sure. “Okay. Um… yeah. I want to.”

Yunho gave him a smile so soft it made San’s heart ache and helped guide him into position. San straddled him slowly, trying to avoid looking directly at how close they were now, how little clothing either of them had on. They were in the same level of undress, and that somehow made it both easier and harder to breathe. His hands were warm and steady as he helped San settle, fingers curling gently around his waist as he adjusted their legs.

San’s thighs were shaking slightly at the intimacy, and he gasped softly when he felt the heat of Yunho’s cock pressing against his own through their underwear—solid, thick, and impossible to ignore. The feeling made his head spin.

Yunho leaned up, kissing him again, slower this time, one hand firm on his waist while the other slid up to rest along his spine. San whimpered softly into the kiss, his whole body flushing from the sensation. He felt exposed and vulnerable—like he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be seen, even in the dim lighting—but Yunho kept him grounded. Kiss after kiss, touch after touch, reassuring without ever needing to speak.

Yunho’s kisses wandered next, trailing down the line of San’s jaw, then lower—into the hollow of his throat, to the dip above his collarbone, each press of his mouth making San whine softly. When Yunho scraped his teeth lightly against San’s skin, just enough to hint at a mark, San shuddered and clung to his shoulders.

“Is this okay?” Yunho whispered, his breath fanning hot against San’s neck.

San gave a quick little nod, voice barely a whisper. “Y-Yeah… I like it, feels good.”

Yunho smiled into his skin, and his grip on San’s waist tightened just slightly, grounding him. San clung tighter to Yunho’s shoulders, his hips shifting just a little in his lap.

After a few moments, Yunho pulled back again, his voice low and thoughtful. “Can I jerk you off?”

San froze.

His mouth opened, closed again. His eyes darted down, wide and overwhelmed.

After a long, breathless pause, he whispered, “Not yet…”

Yunho immediately nodded, brushing his thumb gently over San’s side. “That’s totally okay, love.”

San glanced up at him at the praise, his lips parted and his eyes still blown wide. The words made his chest flutter and his cheeks go even redder.

“But…” Yunho leaned in again, brushing their noses together in a way that made San melt. “Would you want to do a little more than just kissing? Like… grinding maybe? You can tell me no and I'll stop asking for anything else.”

San hesitated, chewing his lip. But the idea wasn’t scary. Not really. It felt… exciting.

“Y-Yeah,” he murmured. “I…I want to try it.”

~

Yunho kissed his cheek, then shifted his grip, helping them reposition slightly. He braced his feet and guided San into a better seat in his lap, letting their bodies press together more snugly. One of his hands settled firmly on San’s lower back, the other on his hip, and he began rocking them together gently—small, subtle movements that built slowly.

San gasped softly at the contact. The friction was warm and intimate, and every time their cocks brushed together through the soft fabric of their boxers, it made his breath stutter. The thickness of Yunho beneath him was unmistakable, and it made San feel small and desperate and hot all over.

“That’s it,” Yunho murmured, kissing his ear. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

San whimpered, fingers tightening on Yunho’s shoulders. He wasn’t even sure what kind of noises were coming out of him anymore—just soft, breathy sounds and the occasional broken gasp, all of them muffled against Yunho’s throat.

“Can I touch your chest?” Yunho asked between kisses, the question whispered just under his ear. “Just a little?”

San nodded before his brain could process it, and Yunho’s hand slid up between them, warm and slow. His fingers brushed across San’s pecs gently, then found his nipples and circled them with soft, teasing motions.

San’s reaction was instant.

His back arched with a startled gasp, his hips jerking forward into Yunho’s with a loud, unfiltered whimper. “Ah, Yuyu—!”

Yunho smiled, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs. “You’re really sensitive, huh?”

San could only nod again, his face burying into Yunho’s neck as more desperate little sounds slipped from him. His body shivered with every roll of Yunho’s hips and twist of his fingers. His cock was leaking steadily now, dampening the fabric of his boxers where it rubbed against Yunho’s. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Then Yunho’s other hand slid lower—down to the curve of San’s ass. He cupped him, squeezing softly before spreading his cheeks just a little, dragging his fingers along the cleft through the thin fabric.

San let out another broken moan, high and needy, his hips moving faster now, chasing friction.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Yunho whispered, voice still patient and full of praise. “You’re doing so well…”

San gasped, “Y-Yeah, I—oh my god—Yunho—”

“Can I try something?” Yunho asked, breath hot at San’s cheek. “Just trust me.”

“Please,” San choked out, barely able to get the word out as his body tensed.

Yunho’s hand slipped under the waistband of San’s boxers, sliding along the curve of his bare ass until his fingertips found the tight heat of his entrance. He didn’t press in—just brushed over it gently, circling the rim with a teasing pressure, no more than the suggestion of a touch.

San cried out—louder and more broken than he would have liked—and then he was cumming.

His entire body trembled as he came hard in his boxers, the wetness seeping through instantly and soaking into Yunho’s lap. His hips rocked through the orgasm, grinding instinctively against Yunho’s cock, tears welling in his eyes from the intensity of it all.

He buried his face in Yunho’s shoulder, glasses crooked and fogged, hands gripping tight to Yunho’s arms like he’d float away otherwise.

Yunho just held him close, whispering soft, steady praise. “That’s it, baby… You did so good. You’re amazing…”

San stayed like that for a long moment, catching his breath, slowly coming down.

Then—quietly, shyly—he whispered, “Yunho?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

San peeked up at him, blushing hard. “Can I… jerk you off?”

Yunho blinked, clearly surprised—but then he smiled. “You sure?”

San nodded. “I want to feel you, make you feel good…”

Yunho kissed him once, then gently helped him shift. San’s hand trembled slightly as he reached down, slipping his fingers into Yunho’s boxers and wrapping them around his cock.

Yunho was so incredibly hard, heavy and warm in his palm.

San whimpered softly at the feeling—he was so big, so much more than his own cock, and it made his head feel fuzzy.

He started stroking slowly, awkward at first, but Yunho’s soft moans and murmured encouragement helped guide him.

“You’re doing perfect,” Yunho whispered, eyes fluttering. “You’re such a good boy for me…”

San’s face turned scarlet, but he didn’t stop. His hand moved more confidently now, brushing over the head, fingers squeezing lightly the way he thought Yunho might like.

Yunho kept talking—low and warm and dirty.

“Feels so good… You’re so sweet, Sannie. So hot when you touch me like this…”

It didn’t take long before Yunho was groaning, hips twitching slightly.

“Gonna cum,” he warned, voice rough.

And then he did, with a soft grunt, thick ropes of cum spilling over his stomach and San’s hand.

San watched with eyes wide, the sight being far hotter than he had expected.

Yunho chuckled, chest heaving. “You really are spectacular.”

San blushed from the compliment and covered his face with his not cum-soaked hand. “Shut up,” he mumbled. “You’re not allowed to say that after I just—”

“You just made me feel incredible,” Yunho interrupted, tugging him close. “You’re amazing. Seriously.”

He helped San to the bathroom, and San, flustered but smiling, asked to clean up by himself. Yunho respected it, waiting outside with soft humming and a towel in hand.

Later, curled up in bed, fresh pajamas on and bodies clean, Yunho kissed his forehead and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

San tucked his head under Yunho’s chin, sleepy and safe. “I'm only able to be like this because you're so nice to me…”

And that was the truth of it. With Yunho, it felt okay to be shy. To be learning. To be loved.

They fell asleep wrapped around each other, hearts full and steady.

~

Two weeks passed by quickly.

Two weeks since San had come in his boxers from just grinding against Yunho’s lap, since he’d nervously asked if he could return the favor with trembling fingers and burning cheeks. Two weeks since Yunho had praised him so sweetly it made his heart feel too big for his chest. And now, as the late afternoon sun spilled soft golden light across the walls of San’s dorm, they were cuddled up in his bed again, curled together like they had nowhere else to be.

Yunho had texted him right after his last class ended

| You free now? I wanna see you.

It wasn’t even a minute later before San told him to come over.

Yunho made it across campus in record time—not quite running, but close. He didn’t knock when he got to San’s door, just let himself in with the key San had shyly given him a week ago. And now they were here, alone, quiet, wrapped up in each other.

San had been reading at first, glasses slipping down his nose, his head resting against Yunho’s chest. But he kept stealing glances up at him, looking like he wanted something. It took Yunho a few minutes to realize that San was trying to initiate a kiss, and the poor thing was so shy all he could manage was a single peck to Yunho’s cheek before burying his face in embarrassment.

Yunho turned and looked at him, amused and absolutely endeared. “Was that supposed to be a kiss?”

San squeaked. “I-I was trying!”

Yunho grinned. “You can do better than that. Come on, baby. Use your words.”

San groaned softly, hiding behind his hands. “Don’t make me say it…”

“I’ll give you as many kisses as you want,” Yunho said, voice teasing but soft. “You just have to ask for them.”

San peeked between his fingers, eyes wide behind his smudged lenses. “…Can I have some kisses?” he whispered.

Yunho leaned in without hesitation, cupping his cheek. “You can have all the kisses.”

The first one was slow, a gentle brush of mouths, but it didn’t take long for things to deepen. San melted into it quickly, sighing into Yunho’s mouth, his hands clutching his boyfriend’s shirt like he’d float away without something to hold. Their mouths slotted together with ease now—still new, still clumsy sometimes, but less uncertain. Every time, it felt more like home.

After a little while, San pulled back just enough to catch his breath, cheeks flushed. “I… I want to keep going. Like last time.”

Yunho kissed the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? You want to grind on me again?”

San hesitated. Then shook his head.

Yunho blinked, tilting his head. “No?”

“I think…” San swallowed, trying to look braver than he felt. “I think I’m ready to be....fully undressed in front of you.”

That made Yunho pause—his ears instantly going pink.

“You’re sure?”

San nodded. “I-I mean… I wanna try.”

Yunho smiled so softly it made San’s heart skip. “I’d love to see you, baby.”

They talked about it for a second—what would make it easier. And eventually, they decided to undress at the same time so neither of them felt too exposed. It was a way to make it feel equal, a little safer.

Yunho stood up first, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. “Ready?”

San nodded, heart hammering.

~

They stripped down slowly, tossing their shirts aside first, then their pants. Yunho kept murmuring little praises the whole time. “You’re so cute. I love your stomach. I love your thighs.” Every word made San blush harder, but it also steadied him, like Yunho’s voice gave him courage.

Soon, they were both just in their boxers again.

San, as usual, looked like he might combust from shyness. His arms hovered protectively over his chest, one leg angled just slightly in, like even this was still a stretch for him. Yunho noticed immediately and offered gently, “Want me to go first? With the boxers?”

San nodded, grateful. “Y-Yeah…”

So Yunho hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down without hesitation, letting them drop to the floor before stepping out. He was completely naked now, standing confidently in front of San, who was still near the edge of his bed.

His cock, already half-hard, rested thick and flushed against one thigh, and San couldn’t help it—his eyes got stuck. His face flushed deep red, torn between stunned arousal and the deep-seated insecurity that always came roaring back in moments like this.

He swallowed and stood shakily, reaching for the waistband of his own underwear.

He got halfway down his hips before freezing.

“Hey.” Yunho’s voice was soft, careful. “What’s wrong? We can stop, love.”

San didn’t answer at first. His hands trembled where they clutched the waistband of his boxers.

Then, so quiet it almost couldn’t be heard, he mumbled, “You’re not gonna like mine…”

Yunho blinked. “Like your what?”

“My…” He gestured vaguely downward. “I shaved to try and feel better about it. To make it look nicer, I guess. But it didn’t work. I’m still…not like yours.”

San’s glasses fogged immediately. His lip trembled.

Yunho was already crossing the room.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pulling him into a hug. “None of that. Baby, you don’t have to prove anything. You’re perfect.”

San clung to him, face pressed into Yunho’s neck, his body stiff with shame.

Yunho just kept holding him close, murmuring praise and kissing the side of his head. “I love your body. I love every single inch of you. There’s nothing wrong with you, San. Nothing at all.”

San shivered in his arms but slowly began to relax. Yunho’s scent, his warmth, his voice—everything about him made it easier to breathe.

After a moment, Yunho pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “Can I help? Might help if you're not the one to do it.”

San nodded quickly, still too overwhelmed to speak.

So Yunho reached down gently and slid his hands to San’s waistband, carefully tugging the underwear down and off.

San covered himself instantly, his hand flying to his crotch.

Yunho stood back up, not touching, just letting him have space.

He broke the silence a few moments later.

“Hey…” Yunho’s voice was gentle. “Can I see?”

San whimpered.

“You don’t have to… but I’d really like to.”

After a beat, San nodded. He removed his hands from his cock, instead moving his hands up to cover his face, as if hiding his expression could somehow make him invisible.

And then Yunho got to really see him.

San’s cock—modest in length, barely 11cm, resting against newly-shaved skin, so small that Yunho is pretty sure he'd be able to make it completely disappear if he held it in his palm.

He was gorgeous.

Flushed pink all the way down his chest, his thighs trembling, his cock hard and twitching slightly even as he tried to shrink into himself.

Yunho stared for a long second, then whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

San gave a tiny, miserable sound, clearly not believing it.

Yunho stepped forward, pulling him back into a hug, careful not to press their bodies together too hard.

“I mean it,” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

San just buried his face in Yunho’s chest, trembling, warm, overwhelmed—but a little more at peace.

He still couldn’t say anything, but he didn't try and pull away.

~

Yunho kept holding San in their quiet embrace, letting his fingers trace soothing lines along his back while their bare chests pressed together, warm and trembling with the closeness. He tilted his head to press another gentle kiss against San’s temple, then one at his jaw, lingering a little longer each time.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured. “I’m really proud of you.”

San swallowed thickly, his arms still wrapped around Yunho’s waist, his fingers digging into the skin of his back. Even fully naked, he hadn’t dared to let go of the security of Yunho’s body, his face still hidden against his collarbone.

Yunho gave him a moment longer to catch his breath, then softened his voice even further. “Can I take care of you, baby? I want to show you how much I love your pretty body.”

San’s breath caught audibly, his glasses fogging again from the warmth between them.

Still, he nodded. A small, trembling nod.

But Yunho didn’t move yet. He cupped San’s face and gently guided it upward. “I need you to say it, sweetheart.”

San blinked at him, wide-eyed and red-faced. “Wh-What…?”

Yunho’s thumbs brushed along his cheeks. “I just need to hear you say that you want it. That you want me to take care of you.”

San hesitated, his throat working. Then, in the softest voice, he whispered, “I want you to take care of me.”

Yunho smiled and kissed him again, this one short and grounding. “Thank you.”

He paused just long enough to brush another kiss to San’s temple before asking, “Can I go down on you?”

San promptly went bright red. His eyes widened behind his crooked glasses, and his lips parted in stunned silence. For a second, Yunho thought he might melt straight into the floor.

But he didn’t pull away.

Instead, San looked down, shifting nervously, one hand brushing behind his head like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His cock gave a very obvious twitch against his thigh—small but flushed, hard and clearly eager despite San’s embarrassment.

Yunho caught it, but chose not to comment. He simply smiled and waited.

“I-I…” San stammered, fingers curling around the hem of his comforter. “Yes. I want you to…”

Yunho’s chest warmed with affection. “Okay, perfect. Let’s get you comfy first.”

He helped San onto the bed, arranging the pillows at the headboard just the way San liked them—stacked into a firm little nest where he could sit slightly upright, propped up and cozy. Once he was settled, San reached out automatically for one of the stuffed animals that lived at the corner of the bed. His favorite: a little round Shiba plush with a cute little smile and even cuter tail.

“Good idea,” Yunho said softly, smoothing San’s hair as he grabbed the plush and hugged it tightly to his chest. “You can hold onto him while I take care of you.”

San nodded, his eyes wide and glassy again. “Okay.”

~

Yunho didn’t start at the obvious place. He knelt between San’s legs and leaned in slowly, letting his lips ghost over the inside of his thigh, trailing light kisses along soft skin. San squirmed but didn’t stop him. His thighs trembled faintly under Yunho’s hands.

“You’re doing amazing,” Yunho whispered, letting his fingertips skim just above San’s knee, then higher, tracing up until he reached the crease of his thigh.

San gave a soft gasp, his grip tightening around the plush he's lovingly named Shiber.

Yunho’s fingers were warm and careful as they reached his cock—wrapping around it gently, applying only the barest pressure. San whimpered aloud, hips twitching.

“Oh—!” he cried, hiding his face in the plushie.

“I’ve got you,” Yunho murmured, letting his thumb brush carefully over the tip. “You’re okay. Just relax.”

The touch was so light, so tender, it almost made San cry right then. He’d never been touched like this before—had only ever known the vague, hurried fumbling of his own hands in the dark under covers. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this. His whole body felt hot, trembling with too much sensation at once.

Yunho leaned down then, pressing one last kiss to the inside of San’s thigh before whispering, “I’m going to use my mouth now, okay?”

San’s voice came out muffled against the stuffed animal. “Okay…”

Yunho gave him a second longer—watching for any signs of panic, checking his breathing, making sure he was truly ready.

Then he gently licked the head of San’s cock, warm and slow, before wrapping his lips around it and taking him in.

San sobbed into his plushie.

Not a sad sound—but overwhelmed. Like the pleasure was too much to hold all at once. Yunho went slow, carefully bobbing his head as he worked his mouth down, taking all of San’s small length in one easy motion. It was no trouble—he could fit it all, every last bit—and it let him lavish attention with no effort spared, letting his tongue explore, lips tight, sucking gently just the way he knew would feel best.

San was trembling like a leaf.

His hips jerked every so often, but he didn’t push—didn’t buck. He was clearly trying to be good, trying so hard to hold still while his whole world fell apart beneath him.

“It’s s-so good,” he sobbed between gasps. “Yunho—oh my god—it’s so good…”

Yunho hummed encouragingly around him, sending vibrations down the shaft that made San cry out again. His legs spread wider instinctively, his whole body sinking deeper into the mattress.

He couldn’t look. He didn’t dare look.

He just buried his face in Shiber, biting into the ear of it now with a quiet apology, whining shamelessly.

His hand eventually drifted down to Yunho’s hair, stroking once—then gripping tight. It wasn’t to guide or force, but just to anchor himself, to try and keep from floating away.

The feelings built fast—overwhelming, uncontrollable.

“Yunho—wait—c-close—!” San gasped, tapping Yunho’s head a little frantically.

Yunho pulled off immediately, still gentle. “You okay?”

San gave a breathless, desperate nod, flushed down to his collarbones. “S-Sorry—was gonna—”

Yunho shushed him with a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “Don’t apologize.”

Then he moved fast, not letting San drop out of the moment. He sat up on his knees and gently pulled San forward, maneuvering him so that he straddled Yunho’s thighs, their cocks pressing together between them.

San gasped at the contact—thicker, heavier now with Yunho’s cock nestled alongside his. The size difference was obscene—Yunho’s was at least 12cm longer, thick and flushed and beautiful. The contrast made San tremble again.

Yunho didn’t give him time to spiral.

He wrapped a hand around both of them—San’s small cock flush against his own—and started to stroke slowly, guiding their bodies in a new kind of rhythm.

San moaned—a pitiful, soft sound he tried to muffle with his plushie.

“You’re doing so good,” Yunho whispered, voice hoarse now, breath hot on San’s shoulder. “You feel amazing, baby.”

San let out a choked sob. “I-I c-can’t—”

“You can,” Yunho promised. “Let me see you.”

He leaned up to kiss him—and just as their lips met, San bit his bottom lip, hard enough to make Yunho groan—and that was all it took. The pressure in Yunho’s stomach broke loose, and he spilled between them with a low gasp, hips jerking. San tumbled over with him a second later, whining as his cock jumped and released into the tight space of Yunho’s palm, their cum mixing across both their bodies.

San slumped forward, panting, face sticky with tears and sweat, his glasses slipping more than halfway off.

Yunho just held him there, rocking them slowly.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured. “You’re so good for me.”

San whimpered quietly in return, his face still buried in Yunho’s shoulder. He was a mess—shaking from the aftershocks, his thighs sticky, his chest damp with sweat and their combined release.

Yunho eased him off gently, coaxing him into the bathroom with him. He used warm wet towels to clean San off first, murmuring gentle praises the whole time, then gave himself a quick wipe-down before returning with water and a soft pair of sleep shorts for San to change into.

By the time they curled back up together in bed, the mood had shifted again—calm, warm, sweet.

San was curled up in Yunho’s arms now, clean and dry and holding Shiber again. He was quiet for a long time, just breathing in the scent of his boyfriend’s chest.

Then, in the smallest voice, he asked, “Do you… really like how I look?”

Yunho’s heart clenched. He tilted San’s chin up gently.

“Baby,” he whispered. “You’re perfect. Every part of you. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

San blinked quickly, eyes going glassy.

“I mean it,” Yunho added, kissing his forehead. “You’re exactly my type. And I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

San ducked his head shyly—but he smiled.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a lie to believe it.

They fell asleep just like that—tangled up, soft kisses trailing down into silence, two bodies and hearts slowly learning how to trust.

~

The afternoon sun filtered lazily through the blinds a few weeks later, casting wide golden stripes across the small kitchen of Yunho’s shared dorm suite. The place was mostly quiet, the TV humming softly in the living room, the air warm and a little sweet from the smell of buttered toast and melting cheese. Yunho stood at the counter in one of his oversized tees, barefoot and humming something soft as he moved between the stove and the fridge, grabbing ingredients for their usual after-class snack.

San, for his part, was perched on the edge of the counter, legs swinging lightly. He looked far too small sitting there, his socks mismatched, his glasses slipping low on his nose, and one of Yunho’s hoodies drowning his frame. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, but his face was tilted, dreamy and content, as he watched his boyfriend bustle around the kitchen.

Every so often, Yunho would lean in close to steal a kiss—like a reward for flipping the sandwich perfectly or for remembering to salt the soup. “Kiss break,” he’d say with a grin, and San would immediately melt, letting Yunho slot himself between his knees and kiss him slow and lazy, hands resting lightly on his thighs.

San giggled against his mouth during one of them. “You’re not even cooking anymore.”

“Your lips taste better than melted cheese,” Yunho whispered in return, nuzzling their noses.

“That’s not very romantic,” San mumbled, cheeks pink.

“I’m not here to be romantic,” Yunho teased. “I’m here to kiss my pretty boyfriend until he forgets his own name.”

San gave a quiet whimper at that, flustered beyond belief, but when Yunho leaned in again for another kiss, he didn’t resist. Instead, he slid his arms around Yunho’s shoulders, leaning forward with a soft, content sigh. The kiss deepened naturally, easy and slow at first, but the way Yunho’s fingers dug into San’s thighs made it linger—more heated than before. Their bodies pressed a little closer. San parted his lips on a quiet moan, Yunho’s tongue just barely brushing past.

When they broke apart for air, San looked dazed. His glasses had slipped nearly halfway off, and his ears were redder than the tomato Yunho had left chopped on the cutting board.

Yunho raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ve got that face again.”

“What face,” San mumbled, shifting.

“The one that says you wanna ask me something but your brain’s trying to self-destruct before you get the words out.”

San pouted, squirming on the counter. “I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re blushing.”

“You’re always kissing me!”

“Which you love.”

“…Okay, maybe a little.”

Yunho laughed, brushing a thumb over San’s warm cheek. “Come on. Tell me. You can ask me anything, you know.”

San hesitated, his fingers tightening in the hem of the hoodie he wore. His eyes flicked away, somewhere over Yunho’s shoulder. “I was just thinking,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper “what…what it’s like. To be… f-fingered.”

Yunho blinked. He didn’t expect that one. “Fingered?”

San nodded slowly, face now fully turned away. “I’ve never done it. My fingers are small and I just… I always got scared it would hurt.”

Yunho softened immediately. “That’s fair. It can feel strange at first. But it doesn’t have to hurt.”

“Have you done it?” San asked, voice quiet.

“A few times,” Yunho admitted. “It wasn’t life-changing, but it felt nice. Not really my go-to, but… when I was in the mood, yeah. I liked it.”

San nodded slowly, then after a pause, added in a whisper: “I think I want to try.”

Yunho’s heart skipped.

“You sure?”

San hid his face in Yunho’s shoulder now, burying himself in the soft scent of his boyfriend’s shirt. “Yes, please.”

Yunho grinned. “God, you’re cute.”

Then, without warning, he turned off the burners, and he bent and scooped San straight off the counter.

San let out a tiny yelp of surprise. “Yunho!”

“Carrying you like the princess you are,” Yunho declared, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Wrap your legs around me, c’mon. I need my hands.”

San did, huffing softly, his arms wrapped tight around Yunho’s shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He felt silly, embarrassed even, but Yunho’s touch was grounding.

~

Yunho carried him all the way to his bed and set him down gently, then began speaking in soft, guiding tones as he helped San lie down on his stomach. He kissed the top of his head, then his cheek, then the shell of his ear.

“I'll take my time,” he murmured. “If anything doesn’t feel good, just tell me, okay?”

San nodded against the pillow, his face already pink. “Okay…”

Yunho began undressing him slowly—tugging down his sweatpants with care, pressing kisses to the backs of San’s knees as he went. San made a tiny squeaky sound when Yunho pulled his boxers down too, and instinctively reached back to cover himself, but Yunho caught his wrists and brought them forward before quickly taking his shirt off and handing it to him.

“Here,” Yunho said with a smile. “Cuddle with this, it'll help.”

San clutched it immediately, pressing it to his nose and inhaling with a shaky sigh. The familiar scent soothed something frayed and tense inside him, and his shoulders relaxed just a little.

Yunho crawled into bed behind San, his knees bracketing the backs of his thighs. He leaned forward, pulled San's shirt up just enough so he had access to his back, and began kissing slowly down the line of San’s spine, his lips soft and warm against bare skin.

Each kiss was a grounding touch, a reminder of care, of presence. San whimpered faintly as Yunho reached the base of his spine, the dip just above the swell of his ass.

Then Yunho placed a kiss on one cheek.

Then the other.

And then—without warning—he gave a soft little bite.

San yelped, lifting his head from the pillow with a startled whine, twisting to pout over his shoulder.

“Yunho!” he gasped.

“Sorry,” Yunho said, clearly not sorry at all, his voice full of quiet laughter. “You’re just… really biteable.”

“You’re mean,” San pouted, cheeks flushed as he buried his face again.

Yunho kissed the same spot gently. “Only in the good ways.”

With slow, careful movements, Yunho began kneading San’s ass in his hands, thumbs circling the soft flesh, spreading and squeezing until San was squirming against the mattress, whining muffled into Yunho’s shirt.

“You’re so responsive,” Yunho murmured, voice thick with affection. “It’s adorable.”

San didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was already losing himself to the feeling.

Yunho spread his cheeks gently, baring him fully, and let out a quiet breath at the sight. “Fuck,” he whispered. “So pretty.”

San let out a mortified sound, face burying deeper as his legs tried to squeeze tighter together.

“Don’t clench,” Yunho teased, grinning as he patted one of San’s cheeks. “I’m complimenting you.”

“You’re mean!” came the muffled whimper again.

Yunho just smiled, and asked “Can I try something? I think you’ll like it,” and San gave a quiet “yes”, trusting Yunho entirely.

Yunho was already leaning in by the time he was halfway through his yes. He took a long, slow lick up the center of San’s hole, firm but not too intense, and San shrieked into the shirt-covered pillow, hips jerking.

“Oh my god—Yunho—!”

“That feel good, baby?” Yunho asked, already licking again, finding a slow, steady rhythm with his mouth.

San couldn’t answer coherently. He was already trembling, reduced to high, breathy whines and sharp gasps as Yunho’s tongue circled his rim again and again, teasing the sensitive ring of muscle with maddening care.

His whole body jolted when Yunho fluttered the tip of his tongue directly against the center.

“Yuyu—!”

“You’re okay,” Yunho murmured between licks. “You’re doing so well. Just let go for me.”

San gripped the shirt tighter, tears already forming at the corners of his eyes from the sheer intensity of the sensation. No one had ever touched him there. He hadn't ever really wanted someone too until he met Yunho. And here Yunho was treating him like he was something precious—something delicious—and it was unraveling every wall he had left.

~

San was already a shaking mess by the time Yunho pulled back just slightly, his lips wet and glistening from where they’d been buried between San’s cheeks for the last ten minutes. His face was flushed, his breathing ragged, and his hands clutched Yunho’s shirt so tightly the fabric was nearly twisting. His hips kept rolling against the mattress, small and shaky, as if he didn’t know how to stop himself anymore, his little gasps high-pitched and frantic, spilling out every time Yunho’s tongue circled his rim again.

Yunho watched him for a moment, just breathing, watching the way his boyfriend’s body trembled under his touch—bare and beautiful and so desperately needy. San’s hole clenched again as Yunho pulled his hands up to gently knead at his cheeks once more, spreading him slowly just to watch how his body reacted. It was so soft and pink and fluttering now, the muscle twitching with every breath.

“Baby,” Yunho murmured, reaching up to stroke San’s lower back gently, “you’re doing so good for me.”

San didn’t respond, not in words. He just whimpered, burying his face deeper into the soft shirt bunched beneath his cheek, his knuckles white where he gripped the fabric. His legs were parted wide now, bent slightly at the knees, presenting himself without meaning to.

“Do you…” Yunho began softly, pressing one more kiss to the inside of San’s thigh, “Do you want me to try a finger?”

San nodded, frantic and helpless.

“Need you to say it out loud, sweetheart.”

San’s voice came out in the tiniest whisper. “Please… please, I need it.”

“Okay,” Yunho said, soothing him with another soft kiss. “I’ve got you, I'll give you what you need baby.”

He reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, keeping his touch gentle and deliberate, warming a small amount between his fingers before slicking them up. San tensed a little, so Yunho leaned down and kissed the back of his thigh again, grounding him. “It’s okay. I’ll go slow. I won’t do anything you don’t want, just tell me as I go.”

San nodded, his face still hidden, his entire body trembling like he was made of glass.

When Yunho finally brought his hand back between San’s cheeks, he pressed the pad of his index finger gently to the tight little ring of muscle, circling it slowly with the lube. San gasped at the contact, arching slightly before trying to still himself again.

“It’s okay,” Yunho repeated, his voice like warm honey. “I’m just gonna press a little. Tell me how it feels.”

And then, with the utmost care, Yunho began to push forward.

San made a quiet, breathless sound as the tip of the finger slipped inside—barely halfway in. Yunho stilled instantly, giving him time.

“Okay?” he asked.

San whimpered. “It feels… weird. But not bad. It’s… um… a lot.”

Yunho smiled softly and kissed the back of his knee. “That’s totally normal.”

He eased the rest of the finger in little by little, never pushing too fast, curling it just slightly once he was most of the way inside—but still not fully. His fingertip grazed a spot, and San jerked with a sharp gasp, his hips twitching wildly.

And then, out of it seemed like nowhere, San came.

His entire body convulsed, a sharp cry muffled into Yunho’s shirt as his back arched and he sobbed out something that sounded like “oh my god” and “Yunho!” over and over again. The release was intense, untouched, and completely unexpected, thick ropes of cum painting the sheets beneath him as his muscles trembled through the climax.

Yunho’s eyes widened slightly but softened just as fast.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, gently pulling his finger out and running both hands up San’s back. “You okay? That was… wow.”

San sniffled, his face still buried, too mortified to look up. “I—I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know I could… it just… it just happened…”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Yunho murmured, stroking his back slowly. “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful. I’m so proud of you.”

San made a tiny noise, his legs still twitching faintly. “That was… um… a little scary. But it felt… really good…”

Yunho smiled, leaned in close again, and kissed the spot between his shoulder blades. “Do you want to stop? We can be done if that was too much.”

San hesitated. Then shook his head quickly. “N-No… please. Please keep going.”

Yunho’s heart swelled.

“Okay,” he said, kissing his spine again. “Tell me if it’s ever too much, alright?”

San nodded. “I will.”

~

Yunho slicked his fingers again, waited for San to breathe, and then re-entered him with one finger, going slow and steady. This time, San was a little more ready—he gasped and squirmed, but he didn’t panic. Instead, his hips pushed back just a little, clearly chasing the feeling.

“You’re doing so well,” Yunho whispered, curling the finger again. “Want me to add another?”

San bit down on the sleeve of Yunho’s shirt and nodded frantically.

“Say it out loud, baby,” Yunho reminded gently.

“I want… I want another, please,” San squeaked, his face impossibly red.

“Good boy.”

Yunho worked a second finger in slowly, easing him open with gentle movements and steady pressure. San cried out, muffled and high-pitched, his back arching again.

“You’re okay,” Yunho soothed, “you’re doing so good.”

He started moving them carefully, shallow thrusts, testing how San responded—and when he angled them just right, San let out a moan so desperate and sweet that it made Yunho’s chest ache.

San was shaking again, and not even a full minute later, he was crying out against the sheets and cumming for the second time, hips twitching as he soaked the ruined sheets once more.

Yunho didn’t stop praising him, didn’t stop stroking his back.

“Such a good boy,” he whispered, kissing his damp temple. “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you. So pretty when you feel good like this.”

San whimpered in response, overwhelmed and shy but clearly not ready for it to end. He kept trembling under Yunho’s hands, still grinding faintly against the bed.

“Can I try one more?” Yunho asked softly, kissing the curve of his waist. “Just a third. You don’t have to.”

San barely lifted his head, hair clinging to his forehead and tears pooling in his lashes. “Y-Yes. I want whatever you'll give me.”

“You really are amazing,” Yunho whispered.

He added the third finger slower than ever, giving San time between every tiny movement, curling his hand to fit just right. San whimpered, his knees bending more tightly, hips lifting without meaning to.

And this time, when Yunho started to thrust them again—slow and careful and angled just right—San came faster than ever before.

He let out a high, trembling cry as his whole body locked up, shaking and gasping and sobbing into the pillow, his voice going watery from the overwhelming pleasure, barely any cum actually spilling from his spent cock. Yunho felt his walls flutter and clench around his fingers, his whole body collapsing limp against the bed afterward, too spent to even speak.

Yunho pulled his fingers out immediately, wiping them off and climbing up to hold San gently.

“Too much?” he asked quietly, brushing the hair back from his flushed, tear-streaked face.

San nodded, barely able to keep his eyes open. “I think I—I’m all done…”

“Okay, baby. You were so good for me.”

Yunho pressed a soft kiss to his temple, then carefully scooped him up in his arms. San didn’t even resist—just curled into him, small and soft and clearly exhausted. Yunho cleaned him up the best he could with some tissues and water from a spare water bottle before setting him gently into his desk chair for a few minutes, pulling the ruined sheets from the bed and replacing them quickly with fresh ones. San just watched him through half-lidded eyes, still holding onto Yunho’s shirt for comfort.

Once the bed was made again, Yunho picked him up once more and laid him back down, slipping into bed behind him and pulling him close, pulling the blankets up over them both.

San whimpered softly at the warmth and the safety of it all, burrowing into Yunho’s chest.

“You were so good,” Yunho whispered, kissing the top of his head. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you.”

San whined, tucking his face into Yunho’s collarbone, too embarrassed to say anything. But Yunho kept going, letting his words soothe rather than embarrass.

“You’re amazing,” he said. “The way your body reacts? So perfect. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I love touching you. I love taking care of you.”

San let out a little squeak and finally whispered, “I love you too…”

Yunho smiled and hugged him tighter. “I know, baby. I love you more than anything.”

They stayed like that for a long while, curled together in the dim, quiet dorm room, hearts beating in soft tandem, the air warm with affection and the remnants of love. San was sore and sticky and still blushing down to his chest, but he was happier than he’d ever been.

He pressed a sleepy kiss to Yunho’s chest and mumbled, “Thank you for making it feel so nice.”

Yunho just smiled and whispered back, “Thank you for trusting me.”

~

The dorm was quiet when they stepped inside, low lamplight spilling over the familiar space, the air still holding traces of Wooyoung’s favorite cologne and Mingi’s musky body spray—but they were gone for the night, off enjoying each other in their own new relationship, leaving Yunho and San blissfully alone.

San’s hand was still clasped tightly in Yunho’s, their fingers interlaced like they had been all evening—through the walk home, through the closing moments of their candlelit dinner, through every soft gaze and whispered laugh under the city lights. It had been a perfect date, one of those nights that wrapped around the heart and stayed there, glowing. From the soft string lights at the rooftop restaurant to the ridiculous photo booth detour after ice cream, everything about it had made San feel like he was living in a dream.

And now, back in the cozy safety of his dorm, the dream hadn’t ended.

They peeled off their dressier clothes together in a lazy, affectionate haze—Yunho laughing softly when San struggled to untie a stubborn knot in his hoodie string, San blushing when Yunho stripped down to his underwear without a second thought. But soon enough, they were changed into soft pajamas—San in his usual oversized T-shirt and cotton shorts, Yunho in a ribbed tank and boxers—and curled up together in bed.

San’s bed was always a little too small for the two of them, but neither of them minded. They fit together like puzzle pieces now, arms and legs tangled, Yunho’s hand resting over San’s waist as he kissed the top of his head.

“That was the best date I’ve ever been on,” San murmured against Yunho’s chest, the words muffled and dreamy.

Yunho smiled, running his fingers through San’s soft black hair. “Of course it was. I was there after all.”

San let out a small, flustered sound and tried to burrow even deeper into his chest. “You’re so cheesy…”

“You love it,” Yunho teased, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I do,” San admitted quietly, fingers clutching at the fabric of Yunho’s tank top. “I love you.”

Yunho’s heart always skipped when San said it like that—quiet but confident, bashful but true. “I love you too.”

They stayed like that for a while, just basking in the warmth of each other, bodies pressed close beneath the blankets, gentle kisses exchanged like secrets. It was peaceful, perfect, like nothing else in the world existed except for them.

But then, slowly, Yunho felt the way San tensed a little.

Not in a bad way—just the faintest shift in his posture. A slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his hands pulled in against his chest, almost like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Yunho tilted his head down slightly. “Sannie?”

San didn’t respond right away. His face was turned away, and from what Yunho could see, his ears were flushed red.

Yunho rubbed small circles into his side. “Everything okay?”

San nodded, but then a beat passed. He shifted again—closer this time, pressing their chests together—and then, very hesitantly, he leaned up to whisper in Yunho’s ear.

“…I want you to make love to me.”

The words were so soft Yunho almost didn’t catch them—but the way they made San tremble said everything. His whole face was burning, his voice so small it sounded like it could disappear, but he’d said it. He’d asked.

Yunho blinked, stunned for a moment. His breath caught in his throat, not from shock but from how deeply the moment struck him—how vulnerable and sweet and perfect that whisper had been.

~

Then, slowly, a smile tugged at his lips.

“You do?” Yunho asked, turning his face so they were nose to nose. “You want me to be your first?” he already knew the answer, but it was still fun to tease.

San nodded, still hiding, his blush still glowing on his cheeks and down his neck.

Yunho leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Baby… you have no idea how much I want that too.”

San let out a shaky breath, and Yunho could tell he was already feeling overwhelmed. So, naturally, he decided to poke the bear, or rather, kitten in this case.

“But,” Yunho murmured, voice dipping low as he pressed a kiss to the shell of San’s ear, “if we’re gonna do this, I think you gotta tell me something first.”

San stiffened. “W-What?”

“I wanna hear you say it,” Yunho said, grinning against his ear. “Something dirty. If you want my cock, you gotta ask for it.”

San let out a tiny yelp and tried to scramble away, but Yunho was already wrapping his arms around him, holding him close with a laugh. “N-No—Yunho! I can’t—you know I don't talk like that—”

“You can,” Yunho whispered, tilting his head to kiss beneath San’s jaw. “Come on. Just once. Be brave.”

“I—I am being brave,” San stammered, face absolutely scarlet. “I literally just asked you to… to make love to me…”

Yunho laughed again, soft and fond. “And you’re doing amazing. But I still wanna hear something filthy come out of your sweet little mouth. Just one sentence. I won’t make you say anything else.”

San groaned and pressed his face into Yunho’s neck, clearly trying to disappear. His body was hot all over now, his glasses fogging from how flushed he was.

“Don’t make me,” he mumbled into Yunho’s skin.

“Please do,” Yunho countered, rocking their hips together gently, just enough to make San’s breath stutter. “Just once. For me. Pretty please.”

San was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that Yunho was about to drop it, let him off the hook.

But then—

“I…” San choked, his voice barely audible. “I want… I want your c-cock…”

Yunho froze, eyes wide. “Oh?”

“I want… you to… to f-fuck me…”

There was a full second of stunned silence.

Then Yunho groaned, pulling San closer and burying his face in his hair. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.”

San let out a high-pitched whimper and slapped weakly at his chest. “Don’t say anything! I’m gonna explode—”

“I told you just one sentence,” Yunho said, pressing soft kisses all over San’s face. “And you gave me two. You overachiever.”

“I hate you,” San mumbled, his face still hidden. “I’m never saying anything like that again.”

“Yes you will,” Yunho said, nipping his ear gently. “You’re amazing. You sounded so hot. You’re mine, right baby?”

San nodded meekly. “Mhm…”

Yunho kissed him again—slow and full of love—and whispered, “Then let me take care of you tonight. Let me fuck you like you asked. I want to show you how good I can make you feel.”

San nodded again, cheeks still flushed from how Yunho phrased it but his voice steady. “Okay.”

“I’ll go slow,” Yunho promised. “We’ll take our time. And I’ll stop if you ever ask me to.”

“…You won’t think I’m like...too sensitive or anything”

Yunho pulled back just enough to cup San’s face in both hands. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I could ever love.”

San’s eyes welled up, and he reached for him—kissing him deeply, fully, knowing that it was only going to get better from here.

~

The kisses never lost their warmth—not even now, not even as the air around them thickened with heat and anticipation. Yunho’s mouth moved slowly against San’s, his hands resting on either side of his waist as they lay tangled together in the middle of the bed, legs brushing beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in quiet sync. Every now and then, San’s fingers would fumble shyly at Yunho’s shoulder, pulling him closer, a silent plea for more. And Yunho, always so attuned to him, gave him exactly that—kiss after kiss, soft and deep and reverent.

Eventually, San pulled back just enough to look at him, his cheeks bright and his lips already a little swollen. “C-Can we…?”

Yunho smiled gently and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, baby. We can.”

They sat up together, shedding their pajamas with the kind of quiet familiarity that came from so many shared nights of vulnerable closeness. Yunho was always careful to match San’s pace, watching his expression to make sure he wasn’t moving too fast. San still turned away a little when pulling off his shirt, and his hands trembled when he pushed down his shorts—but Yunho helped, smoothing his palms over his boyfriend’s thighs with that same gentle ease that had guided them all this way.

When they were both bare, Yunho reached over to grab the lube from the bedside drawer. San’s breath hitched just at the sight of it, and Yunho chuckled quietly, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his temple.

“Still okay?”

San nodded quickly, clutching at the pillows. “Mhm.”

“Words, baby.”

San blushed. “Y-Yes. I’m okay.”

Yunho smiled, slicking up his fingers carefully. “Good. I’m gonna start real slow, alright? Just breathe for me.”

He shifted down between San’s legs, spreading them gently with warm hands as he kissed along the insides of his thighs—taking his time, watching the way San’s body reacted to every gentle touch. He teased the sensitive skin just above his entrance, and San shivered, already clinging to the sheets.

Yunho pressed his first finger in with painstaking care, curling it just enough to rub along the walls as he murmured praise into the space between them.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart. So tight around me. Can’t believe I'm the only one that's gotten to touch here before… it’s like your body was made for me.”

San let out a high-pitched whine, turning his face into the pillows. “Yunho—!”

“You like when I say stuff like that?” Yunho asked innocently, even though the wicked grin on his face gave him away. “Is that why you’re clenching around me like this? So sensitive already…”

San’s body reacted instantly, his walls tightening around the single finger, his breath coming faster. “S-Stop teasing…”

“But you’re so fun to tease,” Yunho purred, leaning in to kiss along San’s stomach before he let his other hand wander up. “Can I touch your chest, too?”

San nodded shyly, hiding further beneath his arm. “Y-Yeah… you always ask…”

“Of course I do.” Yunho’s fingers brushed over San’s pecs, then circled a nipple gently. “You’re so sensitive here, too. I wonder if you’ll cry again.”

San sobbed the moment his nipple was pinched, his hips twitching forward and the tight heat around Yunho’s finger pulsing hard.

“Yunho—it’s too much—”

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Yunho murmured, curling the finger again, then slowly pressing in a second. He kissed the inside of San’s knee and kept going, letting San ride the sensation out. “Tell me if you need a break, okay?”

“I’m okay, I promise.” San whimpered, gripping the pillow tighter.

He looked wrecked already, face flushed, eyes glassy behind his fogged-up glasses. His small cock twitched against his stomach, already leaking with no stimulation.

Yunho worked him open carefully, never rushing. When he added a third finger, San cried out again, burying his face and shaking under the weight of so much new sensation. Yunho made sure to lube everything thoroughly, rubbing soft circles over San’s tummy as he whispered comfort into the space between touches.

~

After a while, Yunho felt San twitch under his fingers, his hips shifting in a telltale way.

“You want more, baby?” he asked softly, withdrawing his fingers to give him a break.

San hesitated, still catching his breath. Then he turned his head slightly, eyes wide and hazy. “C-Can we switch positions…?”

“Of course,” Yunho said, already reaching to help him adjust. “Any reason why?”

San turned his head away again. “I…I don’t want you to see my face when I…when I finish.”

Yunho paused, then gave a low, affectionate pout. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard, but alright. I’ll do whatever makes you comfortable.”

He helped San shift onto his knees, getting him into a comfortable doggy-style position, pillows tucked beneath his chest and his body angled for both comfort and stability. Yunho ran his hands down his back, rubbing soothing circles into the small of it, pressing kisses wherever he could reach. He even bit lightly at San’s hip just to hear the flustered squeak he made in response.

“Stop being mean,” San mumbled into the sheets.

“I’m not being mean,” Yunho said innocently. “Just letting you know how delicious you are.”

San only whined louder.

Yunho slicked himself up thoroughly, taking his time, even adding more lube to San’s entrance just to be safe. He leaned over him again, arms bracketing either side of San’s trembling form.

“San… are you sure you're ready for this?”

San nodded, then surprised Yunho with a shaky, whisper-quiet, “Just—just put it in already. I want your c-cock, please...”

Yunho let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. “I thought you said you wouldn't say anything else dirty, seems you really do like it.”

“Shut up,” San hissed, face burning.

“Okay, okay,” Yunho said, grinning as he adjusted his hips. “I’m putting it in. Nice and slow, baby. You’re gonna take me so well…”

He eased in with excruciating patience, letting the head of his cock press past the tight rim before pausing, waiting, breathing through the tight squeeze of San’s body. San was gripping the sheets like they were the only thing keeping him grounded, his soft cries muffled into the pillow.

Yunho leaned down, mouth brushing his ear. “That’s it, baby. You’re all mine now. This cute little hole’s all mine. Gonna fill you up so good, stretch you out so sweet…”

San sobbed into the pillow, and Yunho kissed the back of his neck. “Almost there. You’re doing so good. Just a little more…”

But when Yunho pushed just a bit deeper, not even halfway in, he felt San’s entire body seize up. His hips jerked forward once, and then he was cumming—hard and fast, untouched—his small cock twitching as he soaked the sheets beneath him, a thick, hot mess staining the fabric as he cried into the pillow.

Yunho blinked, stunned, then moaned low in his throat. “You came already? Just from that?”

San could only whimper.

“God,” Yunho groaned, pressing another kiss to his spine. “You really are perfect.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting San ride out the intense aftershocks, one hand rubbing soothingly along his back. San trembled with each breath, still panting into the pillow, too overwhelmed to speak.

~

San was still trembling when Yunho leaned down again, his chest pressed gently to San’s slick back as he nuzzled into the soft hair behind his ear. Their bodies were still joined, Yunho only halfway inside and perfectly still, not daring to move until he was absolutely sure San was okay.

“You with me?” Yunho asked, his voice hushed and warm.

San gave a shaky little nod, his breath still hitching every few seconds. “Y-Yeah… I think so.”

“Do you wanna stop?” Yunho asked gently, his hand rubbing slow circles into San’s hip. “We can be done, if it’s too much.”

There was a long pause, and then San turned his head slightly, just enough to peek over his shoulder, his face flushed and wet with tears but his eyes soft and glowing.

“I wanna keep going…” he whispered. “You’re…still hard, right? You can keep going?”

Yunho choked on a groan and buried his face into San’s shoulder for a second before chuckling, voice tight and fond. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me.”

“I-I’m just trying to be good,” San muttered, cheeks practically on fire. “You said you wanted to see me be dirty…”

“You are,” Yunho said, breath catching in his throat as he slowly started to move again. “You’re so good for me. And so dirty when you wanna be…”

San moaned, his head dipping down into the pillows again, his small frame jolting with every careful thrust. Yunho built up the rhythm slowly, dragging the half-length of his cock in and out with steady care, letting San adjust all over again to the feeling of being filled, making sure to not go any deeper than half so that he didn't overstimulate him in the bad way.

He was tight—still so tight—and the way he clenched down whenever Yunho whispered something filthy made Yunho’s brain fog with lust. The pace was slow but thorough, every roll of Yunho’s hips drawing out another whimper, another sobbed gasp into the wet pillowcase.

“You like when I stretch you out like this, don’t you?” Yunho murmured, leaning over him as he thrust deeper—still not all the way, but just enough to make San writhe. “So small and soft and perfect… this hole was made for me.”

San only whimpered in response, the sheets beneath him growing damper by the second with tears and sweat.

Yunho adjusted the angle just slightly, and San cried out—high and broken, his hips stuttering forward as his body quivered. Yunho grinned and did it again, and again, finding that perfect spot that made San twitch around him, his tiny hands gripping the sheets like they were all that grounded him.

“You’re shaking,” Yunho whispered, slowing down just a bit. “Too much?”

“N-No,” San gasped. “It’s—it’s just s-so good—”

Yunho kissed the back of his neck, murmuring more praises between thrusts. “Taking me so well… making a mess on the sheets already. Such a good boy for me.”

San could barely speak—his body said everything for him. His back arched with every thrust, his legs trembling with exertion, his cries turning into incoherent babbles muffled by the pillows. Yunho didn’t stop. His pace stayed firm but loving, giving San time to adjust to every inch he could handle. And after a while, they both began to tremble—both nearing the edge.

“I—Yunho—” San panted, “I think I’m close again—”

Yunho’s hands gripped him tighter, and suddenly he pulled out. San gasped at the emptiness before Yunho flipped him onto his back in one fluid motion, pushing his knees apart and slotting himself right back in, once again sinking in just enough to give San what he could take without overwhelming him.

San cried out loudly this time, his voice echoing off the walls, hands flying up to cover his face. “Y-Yunho—!”

“I wanna see your face,” Yunho breathed, already thrusting harder, faster within that shallow depth. “Wanna see how pretty you look when you cum.”

San shook his head frantically, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I—I c-can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Yunho whispered, nipping at his neck. “Be good and let me see.”

~

His pace didn’t slow—if anything, it grew more desperate, more intense. The room was filled with the sounds of slick skin, broken sobs, and whispered filth.

“You feel so good, baby,” Yunho moaned. “So tight and perfect around me… and you’re so pretty. Look at you. All spread out, crying for me, making a mess just from being filled—”

San sobbed openly now, his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a soft moan that never quite ended.

“Y-Yuyu—I wanna—wanna be filled up—please—I want your cum spilling out of me—”

Yunho groaned, dropping his forehead to San’s. “You wanna be stuffed full of my cum, baby? You want me to mark you from the inside out?”

San could only nod, too far gone to speak, his whole body twitching. Yunho reached down between them and wrapped a hand around San’s leaking cock, stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Cum for me,” Yunho whispered against his lips. “Let me see how beautiful you look.”

And San did—with a broken cry, his legs shaking, his chest heaving, his tiny cock spilling across his stomach again in warm, sticky spurts. His body clamped down so hard around Yunho’s cock that it forced his orgasm out too, and Yunho gasped, barely holding on as he spilled inside him, his hips jerking through every wave of pleasure as San's tight hole milked him of everything he had.

“You’re so full now,” Yunho groaned, still only buried halfway, still careful with how much San could take. “So warm…all mine.”

He kissed him gently—forehead, cheeks, lips—each one tender and breathless. “I love you,” he whispered.

San blinked up at him, glassy-eyed and shaking. “I—I love you too…”

Yunho stayed like that for a long moment, just holding him, their skin sticking together with sweat and release.

Yunho stayed like that for a long moment, just holding him, their skin sticking together with sweat and release.

Eventually, he tried to shift, to pull out gently. But the moment he moved, San whined and wrapped his legs tightly around Yunho’s waist.

“Don’t—don’t go yet…”

Yunho blinked in surprise, then smiled. “You want me to stay inside?”

San nodded, face still red. “Just for a little… please…”

Yunho chuckled softly. “You’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

He kissed his cheek again, nuzzling close. “I was gonna take you to the bath, but now you’re making me think I should teach you about something called cockwarming.”

San looked at him with wide eyes. “T-That’s a real thing?”

Yunho grinned. “Mmhm. But only if you’re good.”

San flushed bright red but slowly unhooked his legs, letting Yunho pull out with care. He shuddered at the loss, his thighs sticky and slick.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Yunho promised, leaning down to lift him gently into his arms.

San buried his face into Yunho’s neck as he carried him to the bathroom, letting himself melt into the warmth and strength of the man he trusted so deeply. Yunho set him down carefully on the sink’s edge, turning on the taps to draw a warm bath.

As the tub filled, Yunho helped wipe him down with soft towels, murmuring praise every time San flinched or shivered.

When the bath was ready, Yunho climbed in first and pulled San into his lap, letting his smaller body rest against his chest, the water lapping gently around them. Yunho washed his back, his hair, his thighs—every touch filled with tenderness.

San sighed, his cheek resting against Yunho’s shoulder. “You’re so gentle…”

“You deserve it,” Yunho whispered. “You deserve the best.”

By the time the water had cooled, San was barely awake, dozing quietly on Yunho’s chest. Yunho smiled to himself, brushing a hand through damp hair and placing a kiss to his temple.

Safe. Loved. His.

Always.

~

Notes:

As always, kudos are appreciated and comments are loved!

Follow me at Cursed_Nymph on the bird app for occasional shenanigans (And @HanaOzai because they deserve it) <3