Work Text:
San peers out the large front window of Craftopia, brow furrowing as he watches the low-hanging clouds dump thick, wet flakes across the mostly empty parking lot at an alarming rate. The weather report said to expect a white Christmas, but as far as he knew, the snow wasn't supposed to start until sometime tomorrow morning.
He thought he'd be home by then, warm and cozy in bed, curled up with his cat, watching from his apartment window as the city turned into a winter wonderland. Now, though?
San swallows a sigh and makes a mental note to text his neighbor to feed Byeol if it didn't look like he'd make it home in time for breakfast. Maybe he should invest in one of those automatic feeders, the kind you can set on a timer and–
A hand lands on San's shoulder, derailing his thoughts and making him jump.
"Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you," Hongjoong says with a crooked smile that gives San the impression that he meant to do just that. He's impeccably dressed, as usual, bundled up in a stylish wool coat with a thick scarf wound around his throat, a matching beanie pulled down just so over his hair. Not even the winter chill could keep Craftopia's general manager from making a fashion statement.
Hongjoong's gaze drifts from San to the window. He frowns. "You don't have to do this you know."
San shakes his head. "No. Absolutely not. You have a date and if you cancel it to do inventory, I'll send your head to Seonghwa myself."
Hongjoong blinks at him then smirks. "No, you won't."
San wouldn't, but he still shrugs a shoulder. "Jongho would."
That wipes the smirk right off Hongjoong's face. "I'm still the general manager, you know. I could fire you."
San grins. "You could, but you won't. I'm the only one who listens to you."
Hongjoong snorts as he digs around in his coat pocket. "Yeosang is the only one who listens to me. The rest of you are half feral." His hand soon emerges, a set of keys dangling from his fingers.
San reaches for them, but Hongjoong pulls them just out of his grasp. "Last chance to back out."
"And give you an excuse to back out? No way." San grabs for the keys again. This time Hongjoong relinquishes them with a wry tilt to his lips.
"Scanner and clipboard are on my desk," he says. He starts for the front door, making one last pass through the aisles, steps light and quick. "If you need extra snacks, eat the ones in the pantry in the break room, top shelf, behind the paper towels and coffee filters. Eat whatever you want, but do not let Wooyoung empty out the vending machine. I still don't know how he got the maintenance bypass code and I haven't figured out how to change it yet." He absently straightens a tangled ribbon display as he passes, San on his heels, narrowly avoiding a toppled pyramid of decorative gift boxes.
The last-minute Christmas Eve rush was a blood bath. Who knew so many people waited until the last second to shop for wrapping paper and ribbons, let alone all the otherbits and bobs to make their holiday merry and bright. He'd heard Mingi had needed to get between two grandmothers who had nearly come to blows over the last skein of a particular glittery green yarn each of them just had to have. San's not quite sure how that one got resolved. Tears were probably involved. Mingi's, to be sure.
Hongjoong stops suddenly, jarring him out of his thoughts, and shoots a look over his shoulder. "–and don't let him near my desk , especially the bottom drawer. Oh, and, please try to keep him on task. He can get...distracted."
San arches a brow. He's not really familiar with Wooyoung. They always work different shifts and San has only seen him in passing, but this is starting to sound more like a babysitting gig than doing inventory. "Aye aye, Cap'n. Should I also make sure he doesn't get wet or eats after midnight?" San jokes as they head toward the front of the store.
Hongjoong pauses near the door, frowns. "What?"
San resists rolling his eyes, huffing in amusement. "Nothing. I got it." He hopes Hongjoong doesn't notice his slight hesitation before he asks, "Is he here yet?"
"In the break room last I saw." Hongjoong checks the time on his phone. "Shit, I'm going to be late." Eyes a little frantic, he gives San one last look. "Are you sure–"
This time San does roll his eyes, practically pushing Hongjoong out the door. "I've got it! Now go. Have fun on your date. If you get laid it'll be a Christmas miracle."
Hongjoong flips him off as he jogs the short distance to his car, making him laugh.
Once he sees Hongjoong drive off, San locks the door and switches off the large, bright red sign over the entrance.
Craftopia is officially closed.
San turns towards the interior of the store and takes in the devastation before him. The store is a battlefield of glitter and ribbon, a plethora of other crafting supplies left strewn across the floor, casualties of wars won and lost. Cheery holiday music pumps through the speakers overhead as San lets out a heavy sigh. It's going to be a very long night.
He only lets himself wallow for a moment before squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine. They have work to do and the sooner they get started, the sooner they can go home.
San casts one last glance at the snow coming down outside, then heads back towards the break room, humming along to "Let It Snow" as it drifts through the empty aisles.
"Let It Snow" has shifted into "Jingle Bell Rock" by the time San reaches the break room. He hesitates before punching the door code in, palms gone a little sweaty. Intellectually, he knows there's no reason for him to be nervous. Sure, he's never worked with Jung Wooyoung directly before, San only working opening shifts while Wooyoung works closing. San has only ever been in the same room with him three times: twice when he'd come in for a forgotten item, and once when there'd been a payroll issue to clear up. They hadn't spoken, but each time San had gotten an impression of silky hair Wooyoung had to keep pushing back out of clever, dark eyes, and a full mouth that seemed quick to smile.
Okay, so he was attractive. San could admit that about any number of Craftopia's employees. But that's all Wooyoung is, just another employee. And despite what Hongjoong implied, Wooyoung can't be that bad or the general manager wouldn't put up with him. All San has to do is fall back on his training and make Wooyoung feel like they're part of a team working together to tackle the night's monumental task.
Feeling more self-assured, San confidently punches in the door code for the break room and strides inside with his head held high. "Hi! I'm San, the assistant manager. We haven't met officially before but we'll be working together tonight. You must be–"
San's words don't so much come to halt as trip over themselves and get lodged somewhere in his throat.
Because, honestly, what does one say exactly when you find one Jung Wooyoung waist-deep in an open vending machine? As if that wasn't bad enough, Wooyoung is wearing some sort of doe-brown onesie that molds lovingly to his devastatingly cute ass as he shakes it to Brenda Lee's spunky vocals, an adorable little tufted brown and white tail attached to the backside bopping along to the beat.
San has to clear his throat just so he doesn't swallow his tongue. He tries again, praying his face isn't as flushed as it feels. "Jung Wooyoung-ssi."
Wooyoung jumps and whirls around, arms full of snacks, a half-eaten candy cane dangling from his mouth. A novelty headband with antlers decorated with blinking lights sits slightly askew on his head. "Huh?"
San squashes the urge to fix it for him, instead looking pointedly at the open vending machine, then at the contraband in Wooyoung's arms. "What are you doing?" He tilts his head, finally getting a good look at Wooyoung's outfit, still not making heads nor tails of it. "And what are you wearing?"
Wooyoung blinks at San, then he carefully hooks a finger through the crooked end of the candy cane and slowly, obscenely, pulls it from between his lips with a quiet pop! so he can respond. "I'm getting our rations together now so we don't have to worry about it later," he says as if it's obvious. "And I'm a reindeer, duh."
Okay, maybe Hongjoong had been right to give him a heads up.
"Reindeer," San says flatly, desperately trying to keep his eyes from drifting below Wooyoung's nose. "I'm almost afraid to ask."
Wooyoung shrugs, nearly losing a bag of chips in the process. "I figured if I was going to be working on Christmas Eve, I was going to be comfortable, and festive as fu–hell. Festive as hell." He seems to remember at the last second that San is technically his superior, if only just.
San can't fault that logic. He himself had come dressed for work out of habit, a light sweater and jeans with some comfortable boots. The raiding of the vending machine, though, needs some further explanation. "You know there are snacks in the pantry, right?"
"Got those already." Wooyoung nods towards the break room table, where every edible item from the pantry has been scavenged and haphazardly piled. San can only watch in disbelief as Wooyoung hip-checks the vending machine closed then walks over and dumps his spoils onto the already sizeable spread. "There, that should last us until they plow us out."
That sounds...ominous. "Is it really supposed to get that bad?" He digs his phone out from his pocket and, yep, there's now a severe weather alert notification glaring up at him. They're predicting a foot of snow on the low end, with the storm unlikely to end until well into tomorrow afternoon.
San rubs a hand over his face and groans. Byeol's going to be so upset. While he has his phone out, he shoots off a quick text to his neighbor explaining the situation. The response he gets is quick and sympathetic, with a promise to check in on San's cat.
With that taken care of, San's shoulders relax some as he slips his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to find Wooyoung watching him, that damn candy cane back in his mouth.
"What?"
Wooyoung drags the candy cane from the tight, wet ring of his mouth, licking his lips before asking casually, "Texting your girlfriend?"
San's brain is momentarily scrambled by the shine left on Wooyoung's lips and it takes him a second to parse the question. "No?"
Wooyoung doesn't miss a beat. "Boyfriend?"
San blinks. Apparently Wooyoung doesn't do subtle prying. "Also no. I'm just asking my neighbor to look after my cat while I'm stuck here."
Wooyoung's face lights up immediately. "You have a cat?" He practically bounds over to San, flinging a companionable arm around him. "Do you have pictures? Can I see?"
He hooks his chin over San's shoulder trying to get a look at his phone and San is suddenly engulfed by the sweet smell of peppermint and marshmallow, like Wooyoung had been rolling around in a holiday candy display. Wooyoung's face is so close that San can feel the warmth radiating from him. If San dared to turn his head, he could nuzzle his nose right against the curve of Wooyoung's cheek and inhale more of that mouthwatering scent.
The fact that the thought even crosses his mind has San jerking away, slipping out from under Wooyoung and putting distance between them so fast that he actually stumbles. "Actually, we should probably get to work." The words tumble out of San's mouth in a rush, and he turns towards the door before Wooyoung can notice the embarrassed flush heating his cheeks.
He pretends he doesn't hear the snarky mumbled "Yes, sir" behind him. Pretends the hint of defiance doesn't spark something in his gut.
It's a short walk down the hall to the manager's office, not nearly long enough for San to cool down completely, but at least his hand is steady when he digs out Hongjoong's borrowed keys and unlocks the door.
The office is neat and organized, but there are hints of chaos here and there that keep it from being truly intimidating. A half-erased and rewritten work schedule on the whiteboard occupying the wall behind the desk, covered in Hongjoong's scrawl. Multicolored sticky notes stuck to practically every inch of the frame of the flat computer monitor on the desk itself. A corkboard set on a wall next to the small file cabinet, decorated with a shiny gold Christmas garland and covered with a hodgepodge of candid photos from last week's employee Christmas party.
While Hongjoong might keep his subordinates in line with a firm hand, it's obvious he cares about his trusted crew.
Determined to remain worthy of that trust, San wastes no time heading for the desk to get what they'll need to get their work done. "You've clocked in already, right?"
"Yeah..." There's a distracted air to Wooyoung's voice and San looks up to find him peering at the pictures on the corkboard, still sucking on that damn candy cane. His eyebrows reach toward his hairline. "Wow, and these are the work safe pictures? Makes me wish that I could have been there even more."
He smirks at San over his shoulder, candy cane poking into the side of his cheek in a way that has San's mind nosediving into the gutter. "Who knew you could let loose like that, assistant manager-nim?"
Hand hovering over the product scanner, dread settles in San's stomach. "There's pictures of me?" Hongjoong hadn't mentioned taking any pictures and San certainly didn't remember any being taken. Not surprising considering the state he'd been in.
Wooyoung hums an affirmative, an amused gleam in his eyes as he practically fellates the candy cane before pulling it from his mouth again. "Yep," he says, biting his lip to keep from smiling and failing miserably. "But you look like you're having a great time."
San is sure he's better off not knowing, but morbid curiosity draws him over to Wooyoung's side in front of the corkboard. It doesn't take him long to spot the incriminating photos. Fortunately, there are only two of him, but that's two too many in San's opinion.
The first could probably be considered relatively tame. It shows San, smiling widely enough to display his dimples and cheeks flushed, crammed into a shot with Yeosang and Yunho on either side of him. Someone out of frame is holding a sprig of janky plastic mistletoe over San's head, and both Yeosang and Yunho are planting kisses on his cheeks, though the former looks more enthusiastic about it than the latter.
"You seem popular," Wooyoung teases as he casts San a sideways glance.
San's cheeks match his ruddy ones in the picture. He refuses to meet Wooyoung's gaze. He has a vague memory of being goaded into observing the tradition only minutes after stepping through the door. He'd only just gotten his coat off before being descended upon by his already tipsy coworkers, and it had all gone downhill from there. As could be seen in the second photo, pinned to the right and slightly upward next to the first.
San has no illusions about his abysmal alcohol tolerance. In university, he'd always been the friend who would fall asleep first at the party and wake up with crude drawings on his face, with little memory between his first sip and the following morning's hangover. Which is why, since leaving school, he's taken care to limit his alcohol intake at public get-togethers.
But for whatever reason—maybe he'd been moved, nay, possessed by the holiday spirit—San had allowed himself to be plied with a few drinks too many if the picture staring him in the face is anything to go by.
Because there, in living color, is a disheveled San with his shirt unbuttoned nearly to his navel, flushed all the way down his practically bare chest. He's standing confidently on a chair, one foot braced on the edge of a table as he belts enthusiastically into a incriminatingly empty soju bottle. Worst of all, he's surrounded by a small crowd cheering him on.
Well that explains the vague, confusing comments and looks of amusement he'd gotten when he'd come in on Monday.
He's going to kill Hongjoong the next time he sees him.
But first, he's going to have to get through a night of inventorying the entire store, in the middle of a blizzard, with Wooyoung, who is quickly turning out to be nothing short of a menace.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, San lets out a deep sigh. It's going to be a long night.
He turns to Wooyoung, who's watching him with wide, amused eyes and lips pursed around the half-eaten candy cane, clearly trying to keep another laugh in check. San appreciates the effort. He's not sure his ego can take another hit just yet.
"Alright," he says as he strides back over to the desk, determined to focus on anything but Wooyoung's candy-glossed lips. "Scanner or clipboard?"
Wooyoung scoffs as he follows and leans a hip against Hongjoong's desk. "Scanner, obviously." He holds out a hand and San places the device in his palm. Which turns out to be a mistake because Wooyoung immediately leaps from the desk and takes up a wide stance across from San, scanner held at his side like a pistol.
"This store ain't big enough for the two of us," he declared in a thick drawl, eyes squinted menacingly. "Draw on the count of three."
Clipboard in hand, San raises an eyebrow. "Are you serious right now?"
"One..."
San rolls his eyes. "This is ridiculous."
"Two..."
"How is this fair? I don't have a weapon!"
"Three!"
San lunges for the red stapler tucked next to the keyboard on the desk and brings it up just as he hears the scanner beep.
He looks up to find Wooyoung smirking, pointing the product scanner directly at his chest. "Too slow, assistant manager-nim. I win."
Feeling ridiculous, but with a smile tugging at his lips, San places the stapler back and braces a hand on his hip. "Okay. You win. Now can we get to work?" He rounds the desk and starts for the door, hoping Wooyoung will follow his lead.
"What about my prize?"
San stops in the doorway to throw an incredulous look back at Wooyoung. "Pardon?"
"I won, so I get a prize." He shrugs and sucks on his candy cane. "It's only fair."
San stares at him for a long moment, at an utter loss. "Are you serious?"
Sharp eyes locked with San's, Wooyoung catches the now needle-sharp end of the candy cane between his teeth and bites it off with a vicious crunch.
"Okay..." San draws out the word, refusing to examine why he feels threatened and a little turned on at same time. "I mean, I guess we can dig something up from the lost and found or–"
Wooyoung's nose wrinkles in distaste. "Ew, no. I'm not taking somebody's musty castoffs as a prize." A particular gleam enters his dark eyes which San can only interpret as dangerous. "Besides, I already know what I want."
San is positive he doesn't want to know, but he finds himself asking anyway. "What do you want?"
Instead of answering with words, Wooyoung's mouth curves into a sly smile worthy of a fox as he uses the now dull end of the remains of his candy cane to point to something above San's head.
Confused, San looks up. "What–"
Oh no.
There, duct-taped to the jamb just above the office doorway, is another cheap plastic sprig of mistletoe. It had probably come off of Craftopia's own shelves. Hell, San thinks as he squints up at it with suspicion, it might very well be the same mistletoe from the holiday party.
San hadn't noticed it earlier, so focused on getting started on the night's work. He knows Hongjoong likely isn't the culprit; it's not his style. Which means it could have been literally anyone on staff.
San's gaze snaps back to Wooyoung, his eyes narrowing. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?" Wooyoung argues, immediately incensed. "It's not like I put it up there."
San shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. It's unethical."
Wooyoung considers this. "Unethical how?"
"Because you're my subordinate?" San can't believe he has to spell this out for him.
Wooyoung taps his bottom lip with the remains of his candy cane as if in thought as he takes a step toward San. Another. "Technically, I'm not really your subordinate." Step. "We don't work the same shifts." Another step. "If I'm not mistaken."
Wooyoung is technically right and he's close enough now that San can catch whiffs of that mouthwatering peppermint-marshmallow aroma still clinging to him. He can't help how his gaze dips to his mouth.
So he doesn't miss a single word when Wooyoung follows all that up with a purred, "But I wouldn't mind being your sub if you ask nicely."
Every syllable zips from San's ears down through his core like an electric shock. Goosebumps race down his arms as fire floods his veins and San is left speechless, lips slightly parted and tongue stuck behind his teeth in shock. Most damningly, San's dick twitches in interest in his pants as the faint strains of I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus fills the taut silence.
His face must give everything away because Wooyoung's brows nearly climb into his hairline. "Well, well, assistant manager-nim, aren't you full of surprises! We'll have to chat about that more later."
"No, we really really don't," San chokes out past the mortification constricting his throat, clutching the clipboard to his chest like a shield.
Not that it protects him from Wooyoung as he barrels on. "Enough stalling. I want my prize. I won it fair and square." The last is said with a pout that is far too dangerous for San's already compromised nervous system.
"Okay, fine," he relents, trying to inject some authority into his voice as he stands up a little straighter. He's the assistant manager here—he is not going to be intimidated by a menace in a reindeer onesie. "You get one peck on the cheek, and we never talk about this again."
The matter settled, San closes his eyes and turns his head to present his cheek to Wooyoung.
He expects to feel the quick press of lips any moment, but as the seconds tick by and nothing happens, San opens his eyes to find Wooyoung watching him with a bland expression as he sucks on the remainder of his candy cane.
He frowns. "What? Did you change your mind?" And, no, he does not feel a twinge of disappointment at that prospect.
Wooyoung casually licks at the candy cane. "Who said I was kissing you?"
San wants to pull his hair out but settles for a stern look. "You can't be serious."
Wooyoung smiles. "My prize, my rules."
There's a momentary standoff, neither of them giving ground until San decides, fuck it, and exhales heavily through his nose. "Fine."
To his credit, Wooyoung doesn't gloat. He just closes the distance between them until he's well into San's personal space, little between them now except a few centimeters and a clipboard. Their eyes meet for interminable seconds, that intriguing gleam in Wooyoung's dark gaze holding San's until it's finally hidden when Wooyoung lowers his lashes and turns his head slightly to offer his cheek up to be kissed.
It's not a big deal, San tells himself even as he feels like he just ran a marathon and his heart is two seconds from exploding through his ribcage. He needs to just do it or the anticipation itself will kill him. Keeping that in mind, San doesn't let himself think about it further.
He intends to tap a light, chaste peck to Wooyoung's cheek and be done with it.
Wooyoung, who is apparently never to be trusted, turns his head at the very last second and San sees it happening in slow motion, unable to stop.
His eyes widen as his lips collide with the plush and slightly sticky cushion of Wooyoung's mouth.
They stay pressed there for a moment, San frozen in shock. It's only Wooyoung's pleased little hum that brings San to his senses and he jerks back as if burned. "I–you–we—"
"Oh good, we've established you know your pronouns," Wooyoung quips, oblivious or simply uncaring that he's thrown San into a tailspin. In fact, when his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he seems far too pleased with himself.
San unconsciously mirrors the action, the taste of sweet peppermint exploding on the tip of his tongue. The candy cane, his barely functioning brain supplies, ever helpful in high-stress situations. And San is stressed. He just kissed an employee full on the mouth, on the clock.
And, most damning of all, he liked it. There's a warm fluttering in his stomach, molten heat starting to stir even further down, and he can feel his whole face burn. And unfortunately the embarrassment can't quite overtake the giddiness of feeling Wooyoung's lips against his own.
"You tricked me!" San accuses, his indignance undermined by an unconscious pout.
Wooyoung's brow furrows at the accusation as twirls the candy cane around with his tongue. "No, I didn't."
"You did!" San feels childish pressing the issue, but it's better than ruminating on how much he wouldn't mind kissing Wooyoung again. "It was supposed to be on the cheek!"
Wooyoung cackles, head thrown back to expose the tempting lines of his throat before he fixes San with a lopsided grin. "I never said that. You did."
San opens his mouth to argue but he replays the last couple of minutes in his mind and realizes Wooyoung is right. He'd been the one to insist the kiss be on the cheek, but Wooyoung never agreed to those terms.
Wishing he could sink into the floor, San rubs a hand down his no doubt bright red face and attempts to pull himself together. "Okay, fine. It was my assumption. You got what you wanted. Now can we stop messing around and get to work?"
Clipboard still clutched in his hand, San turns to leave but barely gets out the doorway before he hears a quiet, "I'm sorry."
He looks back, confused. "What?"
Wooyoung's self-assured, playful demeanor is gone, replaced with downcast eyes and hunched shoulders. He gestures vaguely. "The kiss. I was just having a little fun. But if I made you uncomfortable..." His eyes flit up to peer at San from beneath his lashes. "I'm sorry, assistant manager-nim," he says softly, dipping into an apologetic bow.
San blinks at the display, unsure how the evening ended up here. "Please, call me San-ssi...or hyung, if you want," he adds impulsively, rubbing at the heat prickling the back of his neck.
Wooyoung's head whips up at that. "Hyung? Isn't that a little..."
Yes, it was incredibly questionable for San to invite Wooyoung to call him that when they're basically meeting and working together for the first time, especially as Wooyoung's de facto supervisor. But San shrugs, unable to keep a half smile from curving his lips. "We've kissed. I think we can drop the formalities, at least for tonight."
Wooyoung nods. "Yeah, that too. But I thought Yeosang said we were both born in '99? So we're the same age, right?"
San nods. "I mean, technically, but your birthday's not until November. So I'm older."
Wooyoung freezes. He narrows his eyes at San. "How do you know when my birthday is?"
Shit.
"Uh," San says eloquently as he tries to think of an excuse that doesn't make him sound like a total creep. "Well, as assistant manager, I like to get to know a little about all our Craftopia crew."
Wooyoung gives him a bland look and crunches on the end of the candy cane. "You looked at my file, didn't you?"
San's shoulders slump as his gaze slides away from Wooyoung's in shame. "...I looked at your file, yes," he admits slowly, words pulled from the pit of his knotted stomach. An apology is on the tip of his tongue but he's cut off by another one of Wooyoung's laughs.
It's closer than it had been before and San looks up to find him standing so close that the toes of Wooyoung's sneakers nearly meet those of his boots. He's leaning into San's space again, the lights on his antler headband so close they dazzle San for a moment. He has to blink to refocus on Wooyoung's face. Which, granted, is dangerous territory when he's got that knowing smirk on his lips as he pulls the last pathetic stump of the candy cane from his mouth.
"Wow, San-ssi," Wooyoung teases, peppermint on his breath. "Singing shirtless on top of tables, kissing subordinates, snooping through employee files, and a hyung kink?"
"I do not have–" San sputters loudly, blush gone nuclear, then lowers his voice to a frantic whisper. "I do not have a hyung kink!"
His heart, his breath, stops when Wooyoung leans in, damp lips brushing the shell of San's ear as he murmurs, "Why are you whispering?"
He has a point. They're literally the only two souls left in the store for the next god knows how long.
Not for the first time since he officially met Wooyoung, San feels foolish, and it's enough to wear anyone's patience thin.
This is unprofessional, the quiet, rational part of San's mind provides even as he finds himself fisting a hand in the front of Wooyoung's dumb reindeer onesie and jerking him up so they're practically nose to nose.
"Are you trying to make me lose my temper?" San doesn't explode, instead the words coming out at a quiet, dangerous simmer. He's never been particularly quick to anger, but Wooyoung is getting under his skin with alarming speed.
For the first time since meeting him, San sees Wooyoung blush. But there's a hot spark in his dark gaze that makes it clear that he's far from embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, it looks like he's trying and failing miserably to fight a smile. "Not at all, I promise."
San wants to shake him. Wants to kiss him again. Properly.
No.
"Why don't I believe you?" San grits out instead, the hand not gripping the front of Wooyoung's onesie is clenched so tight around the edge of the clipboard that it's sure to leave an impression in his palm. Better to focus on that small hurt than on how warm and solid Wooyoung feels against him through that ridiculous outfit. Better than wondering what ,if anything, Wooyoung is wearing underneath it.
The thought makes San drop Wooyoung like he's been scalded, and he backs away quickly. "Forget it. We've wasted enough time." He smooths his hand down the front of his sweater as if flattening out imaginary wrinkles. "We need to get started before it gets too late."
San doesn't bother to look to see if Wooyoung follows him as he makes a hasty retreat for aisle one. Not even when he catches a disgruntled, "It's not like we're going anywhere anytime soon," from behind him.
🌨️🌨️🌨️
San has made it halfway down the aisle, straightening displays and taking notes as he goes, before he hears the first beep of the scanner.
And then another beep almost immediately after.
And another.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep beep beep beep bee–
Exhaling through his nose in annoyance, San looks over to find Wooyoung peering down at the scanner's display as he pushes buttons at random, lips pursed and brow furrowed.
"Problem?"
"No, no, I got it," Wooyoung mutters, not even bothering to look up. Beep. "It's just being a little–" beep "–bitch is all."
Wooyoung presses another button and the scanner starts beeping in distress. "Oh, for fucks sake–" He starts shaking the scanner like it's a maraca, as if that'll help anything. San hurries over before certain disaster can occur.
He catches Wooyoung's surprisingly slender wrist and plucks the scanner from his hand. "Okay, nope, you're officially on clipboard duty."
"Hey!" Wooyoung grabs for the scanner, but San easily keeps it out of reach as he simultaneously shoves the clipboard at Wooyoung's chest to hold him back. "I said I got it!"
San's raised brow says more than any words could and Wooyoung huffs, snatching the clipboard from San. "It's not my fault Hongjoong went over how to use it too fast. That thing's got too many buttons! Why does it needs it need so many when–"
Wooyoung's gone off on a high-speed ramble, his expressive mouth moving in so many new and distracting ways that are dangerous for San's mental health and San makes a point of making eye contact to spare himself.
Perhaps not his brightest idea, because now he's focused on the tiny mole just under Wooyoung's left eye. It's just a little dot, but it's so charming. And in the perfect spot for a kiss if one was so inclined.
"–and then he bent me over his desk and spanked me for misbehaving."
San can feel the muscles in his face start to pull into a smile at the thought before Wooyoung's words finally filter back through and everything comes to a screeching halt. He nearly drops the scanner he'd managed so valiantly to save.
"He what?" San couldn't have heard correctly.
"Oh, so a little spanking gets your attention, huh, San-ssi?" Wooyoung taps the pen from the clipboard against his plush bottom lip and nods before pretending to write something down. At least, San hopes he's just pretending. "Good to know."
Wooyoung is teasing again. San knows he is. And yet, he can see it all too clearly: Wooyoung bent over a desk, cute ass bare to the world and ready to take his punishment. Except, it's not Hongjoong sidling up behind him. It's not Hongjoong's hand reaching out to smooth over pert, unmarred skin before pulling back to–
San shakes his head to disperse the fog of the fantasy, mortified he'd gotten so lost in his inappropriate thoughts about a coworker yet again.
Someone croons about roasting chestnuts over an open fire overhead, filling the awkward silence that's fallen between them. San's throat has gone dry, his pants have gotten a little tight, and he needs to escape right now.
"I'm going to the break room to grab something to drink." The words leave San's mouth in a rush as he brushes past Wooyoung to head to the back of the store after barely getting fifteen minutes of work done.
"San-ssi, wait–"
But he doesn't wait, just makes a beeline for the break room and the refrigerator where he knows a communal stash of bottled water is kept.
He swipes one and downs half of it standing in front of the fridge, then presses the cool bottle to his face.
He needs to get ahold of himself.
When Hongjoong had first mentioned who San was going to be working with on inventory, he'd felt giddy at first. Finally, a chance to talk to the guy who San couldn't seem to get out of his mind, even though they'd never spoken a word to each other before tonight. Several uninterrupted hours alone to get to know him and maybe, just maybe, lay the groundwork for...what, San couldn't even guess right now. He's so out of his depth with Wooyoung, both on a personal and professional level.
On the one hand, Wooyoung is a handful to work with. Not that we've actually managed to get any work done yet, San thinks, glancing ruefully at the scanner he'd tossed on the snack table on his way to the fridge.
San is quickly learning that everything that Hongjoong had said about Wooyoung is true; he's definitely a wild card to say the least.
But on the other hand...Wooyoung is funny, almost aggressively charming, and so gorgeous he makes San want to break all the rules—and there-in lies the problem.
Yes, technically Wooyoung isn't a direct subordinate, but the lines are already getting blurry for him and San doesn't want to take advantage of his position, no matter how slight it might be. He can't let Hongjoong down.
Besides, everyone knows workplace romances never work out.
San gives a short, incredulous laugh. Getting a little ahead of yourself there, Choi.
"What are you laughing at?"
For someone with such a lively personality, Wooyoung is surprisingly light on his feet.
His heart is thundering in his chest, San is relieved he manages not to startle at the sound of Wooyoung's voice. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair as he turns around. "Myself, actually."
"Why's that?" Wooyoung is standing in the doorway of the break room, leaning against the door jamb with the clipboard nowhere in sight. San swallows another sigh. His antler headband is so skewed now, it's in danger of toppling off his head entirely. San's hand flexes absently with the urge to set it right—or to take it off entirely so San can run his fingers through the silky strands of his hair.
Lost in thought, the soft strains of someone having a blue Christmas filters through the quiet between them as San gets briefly sidetracked in wondering if Wooyoung's hair is actually as soft as it looks.
"San-ssi?"
Wooyoung's voice snaps him out of it. San blinks the vision from his mind to find Wooyoung looking at him expectantly.
Right, he'd asked a question.
What could he say? San's never been particularly good at lying except to himself and that's never worked out in his favor. Case in point.
San looks at Wooyoung, then down at his feet for a moment, before glancing back up at him sheepishly. "I suppose I should start by coming clean."
Wooyoung steps into the room, confusion clear on his face. "About what?"
"I kind of..." San's gaze flits around the room, lifting his hand to rub at the heat rising up the back of his neck. "I knew who you were. Before tonight, I mean."
Wooyoung approaches the table laden with snacks and starts pawing through the pile. "I thought we established that when you admitted to going through my file," he says with a cheeky grin as he settles on a bag of spicy crisps.
"No, I mean–" Exhaling, San gathers himself, straightens his shoulders like a man ready to face a firing squad. "Before that. I knew who you were long before that."
The room goes quiet for a long moment and San can't look at Wooyoung, afraid to see the look of dawning unease on his face.
And then the silence is broken by a crinkle and the sound of crunching. Confused, San looks over to find Wooyoung, ass propped against the snack table, munching on his bag of crisps and regarding San with a rather bored expression on his face. "Is that all?"
San blinks. "What?"
Wooyoung shrugs and continues talking between shoving chips in his mouth. "You think I didn't see? How you look at me whenever we passed each other coming and going from shifts?" He pauses to lick his fingers delicately, casually shorting out San's brain before he carries on. "How you always hold the door open for me when you're leaving and I'm just getting in?"
"I–"
Wooyoung talks over him. "You think I don't know it was you leaving snacks with my name on them in the fridge for my shift? Or having dinner delivered for me when you notice I've forgotten to bring it with me that day?" He sets the bag of crisps aside and pushes away from the table to walk slowly towards San, a peculiar gleam in his eyes.
San, wide-eyed and completely thrown, is rooted to the floor. "I didn't think you noticed. You never said anything."
"Neither did you," Wooyoung says, coming to stand mere centimeters from San, so close their toes almost touch. So close San is awash in that tantalizing scent of peppermint and marshmallow once more.
"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," San says in complete honesty. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to make Wooyoung feel pressured in any way; San was perfectly happy to stay in the shadows and nurture his crush from afar. And then the opportunity to work directly with Wooyoung had come along and San's own greed had gotten the best of him, and now he'd ruined any possible chance of–
"What about any of tonight," Wooyoung smoothly interrupts San's runaway train of thought. "What about any of this"— he gestures between the two of them —"has given you the impression that I'm uncomfortable?" He ends the question by resting a hand on San's chest and if San thought his pulse had been racing before, he's surprised his heart doesn't just beat right out of his chest entirely at the contact.
What is happening right now?
"I–what?" San is at a loss and Wooyoung takes full advantage of it, the hand on San's chest suddenly turning firm, pushing San backwards until his back hits the door of the refrigerator. Surprise has the half empty water bottle slipping from San's fingers so he can grip Wooyoung's waist to keep his balance, leaving liquid to spill across the speckled linoleum of the break room floor. San has the fleeting thought about workplace hazard and how he should probably mop that up before someone slips.
And then Wooyoung presses the entire length of his body against the front of San's own and thoughts? What are those? San's never had one in his life.
"You're sweet, San-ssi, to be concerned about me," Wooyoung murmurs, his hand sliding up San's chest to wind around the back of his neck. "But I promise you, I'm more than okay with everything happening right now." His fingers card through the short hair at San's nape, blunt nails scraping softly and there's no way San can hide the way it makes him shiver, not with Wooyoung shamelessly plastered against him. It earns a cat-like grin and a second hand joins the first around San's neck. "Am I right in guessing you are too?"
What kind of question was that? Like San hasn't been teetering on the edge of his restraint since he first walked into the break room and saw Wooyoung bent over and shaking his ass in his stupid reindeer onesie. San's grip on Wooyoung's waist tightens briefly at the memory, hard enough to make Wooyoung's eyes widen and earn a quick inhale. Ah, so he's not the only one affected. Having confirmation stirs something hot low in San's gut and he can manage little more than a rough,"Yes."
"So are you going to do something about it or do I have to do everyth–"
San's moving before he realizes, flipping their positions so that it's a wide-eyed Wooyoung that finds his back against the fridge, held in place by the press of San's body and a leg that's now wedged between his thighs.
Wooyoung's mouth is a perfect circle of surprise. His shocked silence makes San brave.
"What's the matter?" He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of Wooyoung's ear, close enough that it's Wooyoung's turn to shiver. "Cat got your tongue?"
It's obvious bait, and San knows Wooyoung well enough now to know he won't be able to resist. Which is why San is ready, waiting for him to open his mouth to make some smartass comment.
"If you're worried about my tongue you could–ah!"
San barely does anything, just uses his hold on Wooyoung to urge his hips down against the firm muscle of his thigh. It's enough to pull a sweet little sound from Wooyoung's throat that sets San's blood on fire.
It might also have something to do with how hard San can feel Wooyoung is even through the thick material of his jeans and the fleecey fabric of the onesie. San has to wonder again if Wooyoung's wearing anything underneath his ridiculous outfit and, oh, if that isn't a maddening thought.
If he's ever asked, San will blame what he does next on a momentary lapse in sanity. Or self-preservation. Probably both.
It barely takes any effort at all to shift his grip from Wooyoung's hips to the backs of his thighs. San can't help but feel smug when he lifts and Wooyoung yelps, wrapping himself around San like a koala, fingers digging into his shoulders and legs winding instinctively around his waist. It's a short walk to the nearest table not laden with snacks, but every step is torture when San can feel Wooyoung's erection rubbing against him with every move.
Setting Wooyoung down doesn't provide much relief though. Because Wooyoung—who San who should have known by now isn't to be trusted—uses his surprisingly strong legs to pull San forward the second his ass hits the table. Knocked off balance, San slaps a hand against the table top to keep himself from crushing Wooyoung flat, but it does nothing to prevent the unavoidable way they rub against each other thanks to momentum and Wooyoung's scheming. San can't stop the hitch in his breath or the helpless kick of his hips at the delicious friction. Wide-eyed, he stares down at Wooyoung, only to find him staring back with a Cheshire smile.
"That's a good start, but it looks like I'm still doing most of the work from where I'm sitting." It's said with his usual cheek and San might have thought him unaffected if it wasn't for the husky timbre to his voice and the way the black of Wooyoung's pupils have almost completely swallowed the brown of his irises in barely banked arousal.
The words rankle San, chafing at him like an annoying shirt tag or something stuck in his shoe. But more than that, they spur him on, crank the heat of his want up from a licking flame to the focused jet of a blowtorch. "Anyone ever tell you that you talk a lot?" San grits out, trying to hold on to the last fraying strands of his control.
"All the time." Wooyoung's chin lifts, eyes boring into San's in fearless challenge. "What are you gonna do about it?" He tightens his legs around San's waist again, this time accompanying it with a sinuous little roll that takes a blade directly to the few remaining threads keeping San in check and–
Snap.
There's a low growl that San belatedly realizes comes from him. In the moment, everything is Wooyoung Wooyoung Wooyoung, San giving into pure want and taking that plush, pink mouth like it belongs to him.
There's no teasing, no build up. The hand gripping Wooyoung's thigh gives up its hold to bury in the soft depths of Wooyoung's hair, pushing the antler headband aside and off so deft fingers can wind in its silky strands before giving a none too gentle yank that makes Wooyoung's lips part on a gasp.
It's all the opening San needs.
He licks into Wooyoung's hot mouth, plunders it as he devours the taste of salt and spice of his unfinished snack and just pure Wooyoung. San imagines he can even taste the faint traces of peppermint from Wooyoung's earlier candy cane, and he chases after it like a man starved.
All the while Wooyoung is giving as good as he gets. He's a wild thing beneath San, all rolling hips and gasping moans when their lips part long enough for them to draw breath. Wooyoung is handsy, San is discovering, his greedy touch drifting from tugging at the short hair at San's nape to clawing at San's shoulders through his sweater. If the light wool blend wasn't in the way, his back would be scratched to hell already. San groans at the phantom pain because, fuck, he wants that, wants to feel Wooyoung leave marks on him so he knows this isn't just a very vivid dream.
Those eager hands have just made their way down to the hem of San's offending sweater, slipping under the fabric, fingertips igniting sparks against already burning skin, when Wooyoung finally wrenches his mouth away to gasp wetly against San's cheek, "Nnh, god, knew you had it in you, Sannie."
"Shut up." It's muttered without much heat, even as Wooyoung laughs, albeit breathlessly. San's more focused on learning the taste of the skin stretched taut across Wooyoung's jaw, on inhaling his scent until he drowns in it. He uses the grip he has on Wooyoung's hair to tug his head aside to have better access to his throat, and San dives in, nosing up the line of his jugular. He almost whines with how good Wooyoung smells, has to follow the trail with his tongue to see if he tastes just as sweet.
San gets skin and the salty tang of sweat just starting to bead on Wooyoung's skin, but there's something else, too, almost sweet. Maybe he's just imagining it, but he doesn't care, he just wants more. He starts sucking and teething at Wooyoung's neck like it's a chew toy, mouth leaving a necklace of red marks to later bloom purple in its wake.
And the entire time, Wooyoung spurs San on by eagerly baring his throat, moans of encouragement falling from his kiss swollen lips, body arching beneath San's heavier frame. Wooyoung's hands have found their way fully under San's sweater, palms like brands against his back and blunt nails digging red crescents into his skin. More, they say without words, echoing his hips which have started rolling up in a sinful wave that San doesn't even try to fight meeting. His own hips begin to rock down in tandem, slowly at first, but with increasing fervor until they're rutting against each other like a pair of horny teenagers. But soon, even that's not nearly enough, the sensual friction becoming more torture than any sort of relief.
San pushes himself up and away, tears his mouth free from the ambrosia of Wooyoung's skin with a groan.
"What? No–" Wooyoung whines out in protest, hands tugging insistently at San, trying to pull him back down. "What're you–"
Chest heaving like he's run a marathon, San saves his breath explaining. He plucks Wooyoung's hands from where they still grasp at him and pins them to the table above his head. "Stay." San growls it against Wooyoung's mouth. By some miracle, he obeys—or perhaps it's the open-mouthed shock that keeps him in place as San stands up, peeling his sweater off in one swift motion and dropping it to the floor.
San allows himself a moment of smug satisfaction. He's worked hard for his physique and the blatant hunger in Wooyoung's gaze is an incredible boost to his ego. He can't even really be mad when Wooyoung disobeys his one instruction and reaches for his chest, not when Wooyoung's warm palms feel so good as they cup his pecs and begin kneading firmly. It pulls a low chuckle from San. "Having fun?"
"You have no idea," Wooyoung shoots back, not even bothering to look up. San's just about to remind him where his eyes are when a thumb swipes over a pebbled brown nipple. San gasps as the brief, but electric sensation has his cock twitching in his jeans.
That gets Wooyoung's attention, his gaze snapping up to San's, a dangerous smile on his lips. "Oh? Sensitive?" He thumbs at both nipples this time then catches them between his fingers and tugs lightly.
It has San's hips kicking forward instinctively, the pleasure even more pronounced, and he realizes he's quickly losing the upper hand.
To even the playing field, San cups Wooyoung's jaw with both hands and tugs his face up for a kiss that's all teasing nips and filthy licks. San tops it off with a suggestive suction on Wooyoung's tongue that has him practically purring. Wooyoung's hands give up their teasing, but only so they can leave trails of fire down San's abdomen. His blunt nails scrape across hot skin, making muscles twitch and jump as they blaze a path down to the waist of his jeans. He exhales sharply against Wooyoung's mouth, stomach going concave when Wooyoung's fingers dip dangerously low beneath the waist of not only the denim, but also the elastic band of his underwear.
"Sannie," Wooyoung whines—actually whines—into San's mouth, the nickname a plea this time, and he's moving before he realizes.
His hands skim down Wooyoung's throat until they reach his chest. Wooyoung, eyes dark and sultry, lips kiss swollen and slightly parted by panting breaths, watches as San presses him down slowly but firmly until his back meets the table once again. He's still completely dressed, San realizes, and he needs to change that immediately.
San's relieved to find that the reindeer onesie is fastened down the middle by a row of snaps rather than anything more complicated. It makes it all the easier to grab the front on either side and just yank.
Satisfaction simmers just below the lust bubbling in San's blood when Wooyoung's gasped "fuck" melts into a loud moan, his body arching up as the costume is wrenched apart violently.
Well. That answers San's earlier question.
The bare golden skin of Wooyoung's chest is left exposed to San's hungry gaze, brown nipples already pebbling from being exposed to the cooler air of the break room. San's mouth waters. He gives into his burning want, diving in, and licking a broad stripe up the center of Wooyoung's chest before finding his way to a nipple and swirling his tongue around it. Wooyoung hums at the sensation, breath hitching softly—until San catches the bud between his teeth and tugs.
Wooyoung's response is immediate, body arching on a cry and hands flying up to bury in San's hair to hold his mouth exactly where he wants it. San would grin if his mouth wasn't currently occupied sucking and teething at Wooyoung's nipple, coaxing all sorts of needy sounds out of him.
He wants to ask Wooyoung who's the sensitive one now, but San's not that petty. Besides, he's got other priorities on his mind.
Leaving one nipple tender and throbbing, San shifts his mouth over to repeat his ministrations on the other—much to Wooyoung's delight, if the way he's started chanting San's name is any indication. While Wooyoung is wholly distracted, San slips a hand down his abdomen, skin like warm silk beneath his fingers, until it can delve into the hot confines of the onesie where it's so blatantly tented between Wooyoung's legs.
Wooyoung's squirms up into San's touch and they both groan when San's hand closes around Wooyoung's hard length through the cotton of his underwear. The front is already damp from a copious amount of precum. San rubs his thumb directly over the head of Wooyoung's cock through the fabric to coax out more.
"Oh fuck," Wooyoung whines, whole body shuddering at the torturous attention, and San has to lift his head, needs to see if he's making Wooyoung feel as good as he sounds.
It's very nearly a mistake because seeing Wooyoung like this—brows pinched in pleasure, a flush riding high on his cheeks while his plush bottom lip is caught between his teeth—it pushes San dangerously close to the edge. So close San has to close his eyes and rest his forehead against Wooyoung's heaving stomach for a moment to catch his breath, hands gripping at Wooyoung's hips tightly as he eases himself back from what would have been an embarrassingly fast orgasm.
Wooyoung, however, is an impatient thing beneath San, hands carding restlessly through his hair and heels digging into San's ass to urge his hips closer. "C'mon, Sannie, don't stop," he pleads breathlessly. "Want you inside me so bad."
"I want you too." The words are breathed against the skin of Wooyoung's lower stomach like a benediction, every part of San aching with his desire. "So much."
There's a tug at the longer strands of San's hair, hard enough to make him hiss in pain even as his dick throbs in his jeans, and he lifts his head to glare at Wooyoung.
Wooyoung who meets San's gaze boldly as he tugs again, sharper, and demands, "Prove it."
And, god, San wants to, wants nothing more than to strip Wooyoung completely bare and fuck him until he's a babbling mess. There's just one small problem.
"I don't have any, um, stuff." San's voice is swimming in regret. He hasn't gotten laid in months, hasn't even thought about anyone but Wooyoung even longer than that, so he hasn't been walking around with a condom in his wallet for just as long.
But that doesn't mean he can't get Wooyoung off in other ways, and San hasn't had any complaints about his head game before. He opens his mouth to say as such to forestall what he expects to be Wooyoung's disappointment.
Instead, Wooyoung throws his head back and cackles.
San is immediately suspicious. "What? What are you up to now?"
Instead of answering with words, a still-chuckling Wooyoung pushes against San's shoulders until he straightens. It allows Wooyoung just enough space to scoot off of the table so they're standing facing each other, bodies pressed together from bare chests all the way down to their straining erections. Biting back a grin, his dark eyes heavy-lidded with arousal, Wooyoung frees his arms from the reindeer onesie and lets it slip down until it bunches up around his knees. He's left standing there in his red briefs, that unmistakable damp spot on the front making San lick his lips, the need to taste a gnawing hunger in him.
San starts to reach out, only realizing when his hand is unceremoniously slapped away. "Uh-uh," Wooyoung tuts playfully. "Patience."
Patience? How the fuck is he supposed to be patient when Wooyoung is standing in front of San like every single one of his wet dreams come to life? How is he not supposed to want to touch, to taste, to devour everything Wooyoung has to offer?
Fortunately for Wooyoung, San is able to reign himself in; he wants to see where this is going. He keeps his hands at his sides, fists clenching and flexing with the barely restrained urge to take.
Wooyoung must be feeling magnanimous because he doesn't tease for once. Instead, he simply hooks his thumbs in the waist band of his underwear and shimmies them down past honey gold thighs.
San very nearly drops to his knees on the spot.
Wooyoung's cock is pretty, just long enough and thick enough by San's estimate to be a mouthful without being overwhelming, and San swears he can feel its weight on his tongue already. The shiny, leaking head is flushed the same shade of lurid red as Wooyoung's kiss-bruised lips and San wants to go to town on it like Wooyoung had with his candy cane.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer."
Wooyoung is joking, San knows he is. But there's a breathless tremor to his voice that gives him away and when San finally manages to lift his gaze to meet Wooyoung's, the look in his eyes is molten.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" San thinks maybe he would too. He's never been so bold, so adventurous, but something about Wooyoung brings out a side of him he's never thought he had in him.
It's thrilling.
Almost as thrilling as the way Wooyoung trails his hands down San's torso, over the defined planes of his abdomen, to catch at the waist of his jeans. "Maybe next time," Wooyoung murmurs against San's jaw, fingers making quick work of the fastening, dipping inside and San throbs at the promise in Wooyoung's voice as much as at his hot touch.
It's both the relief of finally being released from the tight confines of his jeans and the sweet torture of finally having Wooyoung's hands on him that pulls a low groan from deep in San's chest. The groan turns into a hoarse, "Fuck, Wooyoung," when the hand on San's cock starts stroking firmly, using the precum leaking from the head to ease the glide.
San buries his face into Wooyoung's throat to muffle the pathetic sounds trying to crawl up his throat with every pass of Wooyoung's slick palm. His hips start to rock with the steady rhythm Wooyoung has started and San can feel himself quickly heading towards release yet again.
"Shit, you–" San swallows a moan when Wooyoung twists his fist just right. "–thought you wanted me to be patient?"
It's San getting the best handjob of his life, but Wooyoung sounds ragged when he breathes, "I changed my mind."
It's all he says before he releases San's cock to turn away, leaving San to choke out a distressed and confused sound. That is, until Wooyoung bends himself over the break room table, spreads his legs as far as the fabric still wound around his calves will allow, and reaches back to part his ass cheeks, presenting San with a view of–
"Holy shit." The words are punched out of him, throat going dry at the sight of a dark blue jewel winking at him from the cleft of Wooyoung's ass. This time Wooyoung is in no position to stop him when San reaches out to touch, pressing gently at the sparkling bauble. He exhales a shuddering breath as Wooyoung hums his pleasure.
"Did you–" San swallows thickly, throat clicking as he struggles to make sense of what he's seeing. He can't stop staring at it, can't stop pressing and twisting it with gradually increasing intent. "Did you seriously wear a plug to work?"
Wooyoung gasps with every movement of the toy but manages to hum an affirmative. "Mm, yeah."
"Do you...do that a lot?" San doesn't know what makes him ask such a ridiculous question. But knowing what he now knows about Wooyoung, he's not sure if it's quite so ridiculous to ask, and suddenly San is greedy to know the answer.
However Wooyoung seems to have tuned San out, more focused on rocking his hips back into the incremental movements of the toy inside him, gasps growing in volume to more full-throated sounds that San wants to savor but—
San stops moving entirely when Wooyoung fails to reply. "I asked you a question." His voice is soft but rough, like velvet brushed the wrong way.
"San, fuck, don't stop," Wooyoung whines. He tries to get his hands beneath him to push himself back in search of more stimulation, but San stops him before he gets very far, a hand clamping down on the back of Wooyoung's neck to pin him in place. San doesn't quite know what to make of the broken moan that pulls from Wooyoung, but he files it away for later. Right now, he's laser focused on getting this information out of him.
"Answer me, Wooyoung." San hardly recognizes the low timbre to his voice. It does something to him seeing Wooyoung like this, beneath him, at his mercy after having the upperhand all evening. When Wooyoung doesn't reply immediately, San gives into his urges and tugs at the plug with just a touch more force.
"God," Wooyoung gasps after the wail he lets out tapers off. He tosses his hair out of his eyes, strands of it sticking to his sweat-damp brow when he throws a disbelieving look over his shoulder at San. "Who even are you right now?"
He sounds annoyed, but San can see the molten heat, the spark of something burning deeper in his dark eyes when Wooyoung looks at him. San holds his gaze and has the pleasure of watching Wooyoung's lashes flutter when he tugs at the plug again as a reminder.
"Fuck, fine!" he grits out, face flushed, sweat sheening the beautiful line of his back. "I do wear it to work sometimes." He pauses, licks his lips before admitting quietly, voice gone sultry, "But only the days I know I'll see you."
San's pulse has started thundering in his ears so he can't have possibly heard right. "What?"
The corner of Wooyoung's mouth curls up into a smirk, like he knows exactly how his admission affects San. "I check the schedule every week," he says, voice hot honey melting from San's ears straight down to his belly. "And when I know I'm gonna see you, I take my time stretching myself at home before my shift, plug myself up hoping that maybe today will be the day..." Wooyoung doesn't finish his sentence, but the way he starts rolling his hips to encourage San to start moving again says enough for him.
And San, who is only a mere mortal, is only too happy to oblige.
Without warning he presses the plug firmly into Wooyoung, grinding it deep just to hear Wooyoung mewl before pulling at it, exposing the gleaming metal slowly but inexorably, watching as Wooyoung's lube-slick hole stretches obscenely around the ever-widening bulb of the plug. It seems to just keep getting bigger, Wooyoung whining and squirming until San has to press a hand down against the small of his back to keep him still.
And just when San thinks it's going to keep going, the plug finally pops free with a wet squelch that's nearly drowned out by Wooyoung's relieved moan. Wooyoung's hole clenches uselessly around nothing, a trickle of lube slipping free from the stretched opening to slowly drip down his premium.
It's absolutely filthy.
It's the hottest thing San's seen in his life.
The plug immediately gets tossed aside onto the table, instantly forgotten, and San takes himself in hand, lining himself up so the head of his cock just kisses the loose pucker of Wooyoung's hot, wet hole. He's not sure which one of them moans at the sensation, maybe they both do, but still he doesn't press inside. Not yet.
"Wooyoung-ah." San's voice is strained, his cock aching, but he needs to be sure. "Tell me you want this."
Wooyoung's laugh is equal parts disbelief and desperation as he finally gets the leverage to push himself up to properly glare back at San. "I swear to God, if you don't get in me right now I'll—hngh!"
His words are cut off by a broken moan as San pushes in with no warning in one long, relentless thrust. By the time his pelvis is flush with Wooyoung's ass, San is breathing hard, head hanging low, forehead resting between Wooyoung's shoulders as he fights for control. Nothing could have prepared him for just how good Wooyoung feels, the soft, molten hot clutch of his body already testing San in every way.
It doesn't help at all when Wooyoung, menace that he is, winds his hips back in a way that can only be described as obscene, taking San impossibly deeper. "Shit, Sannie, you feel so good," he whines, words catching with every twist of his hips. "Need more. Need you to move now."
Wooyoung's sweet demands already have San's hands migrating to take hold of his hips. Not to stop Wooyoung's movements, but to hold onto something real before San's soul tries to leave his body. It's overwhelming already, having Wooyoung like this for him, needy and impatient.
But then Wooyoung hits San with the coup de grace.
"Need you to fuck me, hyung."
The sound of San's control breaking is a throaty grunt as he withdraws his cock almost completely, then thrusts back in with a rough snap of hips that punches a surprised cry from Wooyoung and drives the table across the floor a few centimeters from the sheer force of it.
There's no more teasing, no build up, just a fast, brutal rhythm as San fucks loud, wanton sounds out of Wooyoung, his head thrown back in pleasure. Hands braced against the table, he arches back to take everything San will give him, the occasional encouraging "fuck yes!" or "harder, hyung!" peppered between inarticulate cries.
San can't get enough.
Greedy, his fingers dig bruises into Wooyoung's waist that he knows will last for days. He knows he should feel ashamed at the flare of possessiveness it ignites in him, but the thought of Wooyoung bearing his mark only makes San's cock throb with a rush of unfettered hunger. He wants to tear Wooyoung apart and put him back together again, make him cry from pleasure and kiss the tears from his lashes.
But most of all he wants to make sure Wooyoung never forgets this, never forgets him.
San looms over Wooyoung's slighter frame, wrapping a strong arm around his waist to hold him in place as he continues to pound into him. His other hand comes up to grasp Wooyoung by the jaw and angle his head until San can take his mouth in a messy, open-mouthed kiss that's all tongue and teeth and he swallows down every helpless noise Wooyoung makes like it's the sweetest nectar.
It's only the need to breathe that has San breaking away to pant, breath ragged, against Wooyoung's ear. San groans as he bites at the pierced shell when he accidentally angles his hips and smears the head of his dick right over Wooyoung's prostate, causing a startled shout and a rippling clench that makes San's hips stutter.
"Yeah? Right there?" He rasps as he does it again, over and over and over, this time the angle and thrust very much on purpose, and he's rewarded by Wooyoung's broken pleas of, "Fuck, hyung, don't stop don't stop don't stop–"
Stopping is the last thing on San's mind. In fact, his mind is free of all thought entirely save for the need to get Wooyoung to tumble over the edge first. San can feel how close he is, can feel it in the way the muscles of Wooyoung's abdomen quiver against the arm still wrapped tightly around his waist, in the way Wooyoung's movements have gone from smooth and purposefully to jerky and desperate. It makes the knot of pleasure in the pit of San's belly coil even tighter, pulling so taut he's balancing on the razor's edge of release.
"C'mon, baby," San murmurs against Wooyoung's ear, the words low and rough but no less heavy in their intensity. "Come for me like a good boy."
Wooyoung freezes on a choked gasp, his whole body going rigid. For a split second, San is terrified he's said something wrong, but this gives way to satisfaction as Wooyoung is mewls pathetically, hips grinding back as he shakes apart in San's hold.
Hooking is his chin over Wooyoung's shoulder, San fucks Wooyoung through his orgasm, watching through lust-hazed eyes as his cum paints the table in long white streaks. The sight very nearly has San coming on the spot, but he holds back with Herculean effort, slowing his hips until Wooyoung goes boneless in his arms.
San gently releases a still panting Wooyoung to ooze boneless across the table. He starts to pull out so he can finally get himself off, but Wooyoung groans against the tabletop. "Don't."
His voice is scratchy from use but the single word is clear enough to have San's cock throbbing hard enough to make Wooyoung snicker. "Yeah, thought you'd like that."
San isn't sure he hasn't gone delirious from the lack of blood flow to his brain. "You'd let me?" His voice sounds faint to his own ears.
Wooyoung can barely lift his head, but he does the best he can just to make eye contact with San. "Come inside me? Yeah. Then I want you to plug me up again."
San swears he must have saved a bunch of orphans from a fire in a past life or something. He certainly doesn't need to be invited twice. "How are you real?" he groans sinking back inside Wooyoung to the hilt. He wastes no time chasing his own release. His orgasm is like a river being held back by a cracked dam, and all it takes is a few quick, rough thrusts aided by Wooyoung's encouraging sounds for that dam to burst.
It washes over San, a deluge of intense pleasure. He hunches over Wooyoung, vision gone white, a litany of curses falling from his lips as he fills him with jet after jet of cum. It feels endless, so powerful it almost hurts.
When he's wrung dry, jerking hips finally gone still, San slaps a hand onto the table to keep himself from collapsing completely on top of Wooyoung. His spine and knees have gone to jelly. Face buried in the damp hair at the base of Wooyoung's neck, San fights to catch his breath. The scent of peppermint and marshmallow somehow still lingers on Wooyoung's skin, but now it's blended with the scent of sweat and sex into an intoxicating miasma that has San nuzzling against his nape.
Wooyoung giggles and squirms beneath him. "You good?"
San hums, content. "Mm. I'm good." He presses a kiss to Wooyoung's shoulder. "And you're amazing." He feels Wooyoung shiver beneath him and concern wriggles its way through the afterglow. "Are you cold?"
"Sannie," Wooyoung says, amusement tickling at his voice. "I'm basically bare-ass naked right now. Don't get me wrong, you're the best human blanket a guy could ask for, but what do you think?"
Though he's slightly embarrassed by the obvious answer, San can't help but smile. "I think," he says slowly as he pushes himself up, a hand running down the shallow dip of Wooyoung's spine, "that means I need to take better care of you then."
Wooyoung hums curiously at the declaration. It quickly turns into a soft hiss of discomfort as San slowly pulls out, and he rubs a soothing hand along Wooyoung's flank as his soft cock finally slips free. He gets momentarily distracted as a dollop of cum drips slowly from Wooyoung's puffy hole before remembering his objective.
San has to stretch a little to reach the plug from where it has rolled slightly farther away than intended, but he manages and soon enough he starts to press the blunt tip inside.
Again, Wooyoung hisses and San stops immediately. "Shit, sorry."
Wooyoung huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "'S just cold. Keep going."
San does, pressing it in with slow care until the jeweled base sits snugly between Wooyoung's cheeks. Wooyoung exhales a satisfied little sigh, before he wiggles his bottom subtly, as if adjusting to being full again. San quickly tucks himself back into his underwear before his cock can get any ideas about going for a round two.
"Stay here," San says with a gentle pat to Wooyoung's behind. "I'll be right back."
"I can't feel my legs so I don't think that'll be a problem," he mumbles and San fights a smile at the boost to his ego, making a beeline to the supply cabinet.
He returns to Wooyoung a few moments later with a pack of lemon-scented disinfectant wipes. Wooyoung scoffs the second he catches sight of them. "Seriously?"
San arches a brow as he rips open the package. "Trust me, these were the best option. Unless you want to smell like bleach until we can get out of here?"
"I'll take the lemony fresh option."
"Thought so."
San wipes Wooyoung down with gentle care, the curve of his ass and between his legs first, before helping Wooyoung to stand upright to clean the rest of him. He gives only the weakest of protests as he's pulled up to sag back against San's sturdier frame. San grabs another wipe to take care of the mess growing sticky on Wooyoung's stomach. When that's cleared away, San leaves a wobbly Wooyoung to toss the used wipe along with the first one into a nearby waste bin.
By the time he turns back around, Wooyoung seems much steadier on his feet. He's already pulled up his underwear and is just shimmying himself back into the reindeer onesie. He's quite the sight to behold—skin still flushed, lips kiss-swollen, hair a complete wreck—and San just wants him all over again.
San looks away quickly to do up his own pants, then goes in search of his sweater. His mind is already starting to reel in the aftermath of what they've just done. Sure, they share a mutual attraction, that much is obvious, but is there more to it than that? Can there be given their working situation?
More importantly, does Wooyoung want there to be?
San glances over at Wooyoung, who is now fully dressed and has taken it upon himself to use more wipes to scrub the surface of the table free of any evidence of their indiscretion. He's very thorough about it, which San appreciates. However, he doubts he'll ever be able to eat lunch at that table again without remembering how they defiled it in high definition and popping the most inappropriate boner while surrounded by coworkers.
San wonders if Wooyoung will have the same issue, or if he'll just write it off as a fond memory, a wild story to tell his friends about over drinks and nothing more. The thought leaves San's chest feeling tight, a sour feeling he can't name curdling in the pit of his stomach.
And to top it all off, they're still trapped together for God knows how much longer, with inventory still waiting to be done.
Okay, deep breath. It would really suck if Wooyoung saw this as a one and done. San knows himself well enough that it would probably take a good while to get over the hurt. If he ever did. He'd have to see Wooyoung in passing nearly every day, hear about him in passing from Yeosang or even Hongjoong, all while pretending nothing happened.
"What's got you pouting over here in the corner like a kicked puppy?"
As if summoned by his thoughts, Wooyoung appears in San's line of sight, expressive face curious but with a slight frown around his eyes.
"M'not pouting," San says as he tries to draw his bottom lip back in where it belongs.
Wooyoung rolls his eyes. "Brooding, then. Here." He presses San's sweater into his hands. "Put this on, you're distracting."
Pointedly not pouting, San does as he's told, but even the pleasure of Wooyoung's sideways compliment isn't enough to soothe San's doubts. He can't quite meet Wooyoung's eyes once he's tugged down his sweater and, clever as he is, Wooyoung catches on quickly.
"You're not..." Wooyoung's usually robust voice sounds so small and he clears his throat, tries again, this time going for nonchalant and not quite hitting the mark. "Having regrets already, Sannie?"
The words are a sucker punch, and it surprises San that he has enough breath left in him to protest vehemently, "No. Never."
"Then why won't you look at me?"
San looks at Wooyoung immediately. He's biting his lip, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he shifts from foot to foot. Head angled low, he peers at San from behind his overlong fringe and San wants nothing more than to push his hair back so he can see Wooyoung's eyes better.
His hand moves on instinct. Just like before, Wooyoung's hair is silk between San's fingers as he brushes it back to tuck behind his ear. His fingers lightly graze the piercings lining the shell and he feels Wooyoung shiver, his eyes closing briefly.
When they open again, Wooyoung's gaze is unfathomable, the dark depths giving nothing away.
San takes the plunge.
"Do you?" He asks softly, hand slowly, carefully drifting down to gently cup Wooyoung's jaw. "Regret it, I mean."
"No. Never." Wooyoung's voice is soft yet firm, and hearing his own words said back to him sucks the air out of San's lungs even as the knot in his chest finally loosens.
It's only when he kisses Wooyoung that San feels like he can breathe again.
It's unlike any of their previous kisses, soft and unhurried and, most of all, given freely. It's almost sweet, the way their lips brush and glide against each other until finally fusing, like they're tasting each other for the first time. Wooyoung's arms slowly come up to loop around San's neck as he melts against him, making San feel brave again.
When the kiss finally ends after a long moment, San rests his forehead against Wooyoung's and quietly confesses, "I really like you, Jung Wooyoung."
A shy smile blooms slowly across Wooyoung's face and his cheeks go delightfully pink. "And water is wet," he says, still trying to play it cool, but there's nothing but sweet sincerity in his voice as he adds, "Lucky for you, I like you, too, Choi San."
San chuckles against Wooyoung's cheek before pulling away just far enough to look him in the eyes. "When we get out of here, I'm going to take you on a proper date. Flowers, dinner, the whole thing." He smiles, gliding a thumb along Wooyoung's bottom lip. God, he just can't stop touching him.
"Then we'll go back to my place so I can take my time with you like you deserve. I'll make you breakfast in the morning." San lets his hand fall away from Wooyoung's mouth to find a new home at his waist, squeezing gently. "What do you think?"
Blinking slowly, as if waking from a daze, Wooyoung nods. "I think you might just ruin me and I can't wait."
San laughs, pleased at Wooyoung's response. "Neither can I." He seals the promise with a chaste kiss that turns into two, and then three, and then more. Before long, they're standing there in the middle of the break room kissing like they have all the time in the world as a soft rendition of "O Christmas Tree" drifts faintly from the speakers.
It's tempting to stay there in their own little world, wrapped up in each other as the snow piles up outside, but the more responsible side of San starts to prod at him, a pricking at his conscience that he can't ignore.
He pulls back with a sigh, hands petting down Wooyoung's sides. "We should really get back to work."
Wooyoung goes still in his arms and fixes him with a bland stare. "Wow, way to ruin the mood, Sannie."
"I know, I know," San groans, head dropping to Wooyoung's shoulder. "Believe me, inventory is the last thing I want to be doing right now."
"Then don't?" A hand comes up to scratch softly at the short hair at San's nape and he almost purrs. He can hear the whine starting in Wooyoung's voice and it spawns a smile on San's face despite his reluctance.
"And have Hongjoong on our asses? I don't think so."
Wooyoung snorts. "You have a point. The only one I want on my ass is you."
"Such a romantic," San mutters as he lifts his head, reluctantly putting a little distance between them.
"That's your department, assistant manager-nim." Wooyoung sing-songs the title. "Or do you still want me to call you, hyung?" He moans it lewdly, twirling away cackling at the blush it brings to a sputtering San's cheeks. Snatching up his unfinished bag of crisps from before, Wooyoung starts for the door, clearly pleased with himself.
San is helpless but to trail after him. "You can just call me, San or Sannie. It's...easier."
Wooyoung turns, walking backwards toward the front of the store, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "You mean it won't make you horny."
"Wooyoung..." San can't tell if he's threatening or pleading but Wooyoung has mercy on him. For now.
He stops, munches on his snack as he considers before finally saying, "Fine. On one condition."
San eyes him, wary. "And that is?"
Wooyoung grins. "I get to use the scanner."
San considers. "Counter offer: I use the scanner—" he holds up a hand when Wooyoung opens his mouth to argue "—I teach you how to use it, and we switch off halfway through. And..."
San approaches Wooyoung, keeps walking so he has to retreat until his back comes up against a shelving unit. Until San has him caged in with nowhere to go. "And," San repeats, voice gone low and persuasive, "if you do a good job, I'll blow you after as a reward."
Wooyoung doesn't even pretend to think it over. "Deal."
🌨️🌨️🌨️
As the snow continues to come down outside, they manage to finish taking inventory with minimal hiccups. San may get a little distracted in the fiber arts aisle when Wooyoung bends over to restock a lower shelf with yarn, and San has to do a recount of the crochet needles, but he figures the view is worth it. They still get everything done sooner than expected and, true to his word, after they return the clipboard and scanner to Hongjoong's office, San keeps his promise.
With Wooyoung sat in Hongjoong's chair, but they agree to keep that to themselves.