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The soft knock knock knock echoed through the quiet hotel corridor. San didn’t even need to peer through the peephole. Damp strands of dark hair clinging to his forehead and the nape of his neck.
He already knew, had known the moment the first knock landed, who would be standing on the other side of that door.
Jung Wooyoung.
Once San opened the door, Wooyoung slipped inside like he belonged there. Because, in every way that mattered after years of shared stages, shared dorms, shared secrets, he did. He closed the door behind him with the heel of his foot, then leaned back against it for a single heartbeat, eyes finding San’s across the dimly lit room.
San exhaled through his nose, a small, amused sound that didn’t quite become a laugh. “Already?” he asked, voice low and still rough around the edges from hours of singing, shouting, breathing in the thick haze of stage smoke.
Wooyoung didn’t answer right away. Instead he pushed off the door and padded farther into the room. His hair falling in soft, dark waves that framed his face in a way that made him look younger. He wore an oversized grey hoodie that swallowed his frame, the sleeves bunched at his wrists.
Fresh from his own shower, skin still flushed from the heat, he smelled faintly of the hotel’s citrus body wash.
“Missed you,” he said simply, the words slipping out like they’d been waiting on his tongue all evening.
San felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward despite himself. He stayed where he was, arms loosely braced on his knees, watching as Wooyoung crossed the last few steps and dropped onto the edge of the bed without hesitation. The mattress dipped under his weight, the sheets still faintly warm from San’s earlier collapse onto them after his own shower.
Normally this was the part of the night when San would finally let exhaustion win. After the roar of twenty-one thousand voices in Sydney’s Qudos Bank Arena had faded, after the last encore confetti had drifted to the stage floor, after the members had stumbled through quick goodnights. Normally he would crawl under the covers, phone on Do Not Disturb, and let sleep claim what little remained of him.
Concerts drained everything: lungs, legs, voice, heart. Some nights the members would drift toward one room or another, but most nights San preferred solitude.
The second Sydney show had ended on an high: the crowd even louder than the night before, the members feeding off one another’s energy until the final bow felt like floating rather than falling. And underneath it all had been the quiet relief that San was finally back with them. The long days of separation had all stretched like an eternity. When he’d stepped off that plane in Australia and seen the member later, their faces breaking into unrestrained grins, the knot in his chest had loosened for the first time in a while.
Even though he hadn’t been gone long in calendar days, the distance had felt too long. So now, with Wooyoung sitting on the bed, San found he didn’t mind the intrusion.
Not tonight. Not ever.
“Tssss,” San hissed softly through his teeth, the sound half-scolding, half-affectionate.
San walked toward Wooyoung. Standing near the foot of the bed, arms loosely crossed over his chest, the soft hotel lighting casting gentle shadows across the sharp lines of his collarbones still faintly visible beneath the loose black T-shirt he’d thrown on after his shower.
Wooyoung, meanwhile, had already claimed his spot: legs stretched out in front of him, looking entirely too comfortable in someone else’s space, like he’d done this a thousand times before (because he had).
“Make yourself comfortable then, Jung Wooyoung,” San drawled, voice low and laced with mock exasperation. He reached out and delivered a light, playful smack to Wooyoung’s thigh. Firm enough to make the fabric of the oversized sweatpants shift, soft enough that it landed more like punctuation than punishment.
Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled with immediate mischief. He retaliated without hesitation, swinging his hand out to land an equally casual hit against San’s hip, the sound a muted thwack against cotton.
“At least you don’t push me away like you do on stage,” he shot back, already drawing his legs up and scooting back a little farther on the mattress so he could lean more comfortably against the pillows. His grin was wide, unapologetic, the kind that showed too many teeth and dared San to argue.
San huffed a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head as he turned slightly to grab his phone from a table. “You’re just too annoying, Wooyoung. And don’t act like you’re not doing the exact same thing.” His thumb swiped lazily across the screen, probably checking messages, notifications, the usual post-concert scroll. But the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
He wasn’t really paying attention to the phone. His focus was still on the boy sprawled across his bed.
Wooyoung tilted his head, dark hair sliding across his forehead. “So annoying you had to throw me around the concert in front of everyone yesterday, huh?” His tone was teasing.
San didn’t look up right away. He kept his eyes on the screen for another beat, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Wooyoung squirm with anticipation.
Then, without lifting his gaze, he answered in that calm, even voice.
“Had to. You need to be tamed.” A pause.
“But I guess it didn’t work, because you did the same shit today too.”
Only then did he finally glance up, dark eyes catching Wooyoung’s with lazy amusement. He set the phone face-down on the nightstand with a soft clack, stretched his arms overhead until his spine popped satisfyingly, and let out a long, deep yawn that ended in a soft groan. The motion pulled the hem of his shirt up just enough to show a thin strip of toned stomach, and Wooyoung’s gaze flicked down for half a second before snapping back up.
“You’re funny, Choi San,” Wooyoung said, genuine laughter bubbling under the words.
San reached up and ran a hand through his own hair, fingers carding slowly through the damp strands, pushing them back only for a few pieces to fall forward again. Wooyoung watched it like he was memorizing the rhythm.
“Mhm. I know,” San replied, the smirk deepening. He raised both eyebrows at Wooyoung.
Wooyoung clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sharp little tsk. He let the sound linger for a second, then pushed himself up off the bed in one fluid motion, feet silent against the ground as he closed the small distance between them.
“Any plans for tonight?” he asked, voice dropping into something quieter.
San tilted his head, considering. “Mmmmmm… no. Not that I can think of.”
His smile spread slowly, wide and bright and a little wicked at the edges. “Sleeping. That’s it.”
Wooyoung’s laugh was soft, almost a scoff. Before San could react, Wooyoung’s hand darted out and delivered a quick, playful slap to San’s ass, sharp enough to sting just a little.
“Oh, is that so?” Wooyoung said, stepping even closer so their chests were nearly brushing. “While you were being a fucking menace throughout the whole concert. Fuck you.”
San didn’t flinch. If anything, his smile only grew wider, eyes crinkling at the corners with pure delight. He leaned in until their foreheads almost touched, voice dropping. “I know you like it, Wooyoung. Don’t act like this now.”
San’s eyes were half-lidded now, dark and liquid in the low light of the hotel room.
Wooyoung tilted his head, lips parting on a slow exhale. “Maybe,” he murmured, the single word lazy, letting it hang.
He took a small step back, casual, testing. “Sooo… no plans, huh?” His shoulders lifted in an exaggerated shrug, the oversized hoodie slipping down one shoulder to expose the sharp line of his collarbone. “I think I’m gonna head back then, Choi San.”
He turned halfway toward the door, movements deliberately slow, giving San every chance to stop him.
He didn’t have to wait long.
San’s hand shot out, fingers closing around Wooyoung’s wrist. Not hard, but firm enough that the retreat halted instantly.
Wooyoung felt the warmth of San’s palm seep through his skin.
“Maybe I decided differently,” San said, voice quiet but rough around the edges.
Before Wooyoung could fire back with another quip, San’s other hand found the curve of his ass. Both palms sliding down in one smooth, possessive motion, fingers spreading wide to grip through the soft fabric of the sweatpants.
He pulled Wooyoung flush against him, bodies slotting together like they’d never been apart.
Wooyoung’s breath punched out in a startled laugh. “Oh, I see, big boy. Lying to me and now grabbing my ass?” His smirk was instant, wide and wicked, and a genuine, delighted sound escaped him. Half chuckle, half groan.
San didn’t move his hands. If anything, his fingers flexed, kneading lightly. “Or do you want to leave?” he asked, tilting his head.
Eyes locked on Wooyoung’s like he already knew the answer.
Wooyoung’s gaze flicked down to San’s lips, then back up. “I don’t think so.” One corner of his mouth curled higher. “Maybe I lied too?”
His free hand moved slowly, fingertips skating down the center of San’s chest, tracing the faint ridges of muscle beneath the thin T-shirt, lower and lower, until his palm settled over the front of San’s sweatpants.
He pressed, cupping the growing hardness there with confident pressure, thumb brushing once in a slow, teasing drag.
San’s hips jerked forward on instinct. A small, involuntary gasp slipped past his lips, soft and ragged, and his grip on Wooyoung’s ass tightened.
“You’re going to be the fucking end of me,” San breathed, voice cracking just slightly on the last word.
Wooyoung’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. “I hope I am,” he whispered.
And then he surged forward.
Their mouths crashed together with bruising force. Days of pent-up want, of stolen glances across stages, finally breaking free all at once. It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, hungry, teeth clacking once before they found the right angle, lips sliding hot and slick against each other. San’s tongue pushed in first, seeking, claiming, and Wooyoung met him with equal ferocity. Tongues tangling in messy, wet strokes that left them both breathing hard through their noses.
The sounds were obscene in the quiet room. Wet slides, soft gasps, the occasional needy hum that vibrated between their mouths. Wooyoung’s hand stayed pressed firmly between them, palming San with slow, deliberate drags while his other arm looped around San’s neck, fingers threading into damp hair and tugging just enough to tilt San’s head the way he wanted.
San groaned into the kiss, hips rolling forward to grind against Wooyoung’s palm, seeking more friction. Their bodies pressed impossibly closer. Until there was no space left, only heat and pressure and the frantic rhythm they were already building together.
“Mhmm… San,” Wooyoung mumbled against his mouth, the word half-muffled, half-moaned. He rocked forward in answer, grinding down hard against the solid line of San’s thigh, chasing the same spark that was already licking up his own spine.
They moved like that for long moments. Kissing sloppy and deep, hips rolling in messy counterpoint, hands roaming wherever they could reach. San’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of Wooyoung’s ass, guiding their rhythm. Wooyoung’s palm kept working San through the fabric, thumb circling over the head every time he felt him twitch.
Wooyoung’s voice came out rough, almost wrecked already, the words spilling between them like they’d been clawing at the back of his throat all day.
“Just do what you’ve been wanting to do the whole fucking day. God damn, San just fuck me, please.”
San’s breath hitched. “You’re so-“
The sentence fractured as he rocked forward instinctively.
“Mmm, what am I?”
San’s hips jerked. A small, broken moan slipped out of him before he could catch it. “You’re unbelievable.”
Wooyoung’s grin turned filthy. “Unbelievable hot? Sexy?” He kept the teasing even as his own voice trembled with want, fingers tracing the vein that pulsed under the fabric.
“Shut up, Wooyoung,” San growled, but there was no real heat behind it, only desperation. His hands now flexed on Wooyoung’s hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
Wooyoung laughed, soft and dark, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of San’s pants. He tugged San backward with him, guiding him toward the bed until the backs of San’s knees hit the mattress. San let himself be maneuvered, dropping down to sit on the very edge, legs spread wide, chest rising and falling fast.
“Pants off,” Wooyoung ordered, voice low and commanding, eyes locked on San’s like he was daring him to disobey.
San didn’t hesitate. He lifted his hips just enough for Wooyoung to yank the sweatpants down his thighs, kicking them off the rest of the way. The cool air of the room hit his skin, but it did nothing to calm the fever burning under it.
Wooyoung sank to his knees between San’s legs without a second’s pause. His fingers curled into the waistband of San’s black boxers, dragging them down. San’s cock sprang free the moment the fabric cleared it. Thick, flushed dark at the head, already leaking steadily, the tip glistening as it slapped lightly against the taut plane of his lower stomach.
“Fuck,” San breathed, the word punched out of him as he stared down at Wooyoung kneeling there, eyes wide and dark with hunger.
Wooyoung licked his lips once, slow and deliberate.
“Wish everyone would know how good I suck your dick,” he murmured, voice thick with lust.
His gaze flicked up to meet San’s, pupils blown so wide the brown was almost gone. And the raw want in his expression made San’s cock twitch hard against his abdomen.
Before San could answer, Wooyoung leaned in.
He started slow, almost cruelly so. Lips brushing feather-light kisses along the underside, tracing the thick vein from base to tip with the flat of his tongue, tasting the salt and heat of him. San’s thighs tensed, muscles jumping under Wooyoung’s palms where they pressed San’s legs wider apart.
“Wooyoung-“ San’s voice cracked on his name, one hand flying to the sheets, knuckles whitening as he gripped hard.
Wooyoung hummed in response, the vibration traveling straight up San’s length. Then he wrapped his lips around the head. Soft at first, just the warm, wet seal of his mouth and sucked. Gentle. Teasing. Letting his tongue swirl lazy circles over the slit, lapping up every bead of precome like it was something precious.
San’s head fell back on a choked groan. “Fuck…Wooyoung-“
That was all the encouragement Wooyoung needed.
He took San deeper in one smooth, practiced slide, lips stretching wide around the girth, throat relaxing as he pushed forward until his nose pressed against the smooth skin at San’s base.
No hesitation. Just the tight, slick heat of his mouth and the way his throat fluttered around the head when he swallowed.
San’s hips bucked up on instinct before he could stop himself. “Shit- sorry-”
Wooyoung only moaned around him, the sound vibrating down San’s cock and making his vision white out for a second.
He pulled back just enough to breathe. Slow, wet drags of his lips and then plunged down again, faster this time, setting a rhythm that was relentless. One hand wrapped around the base to stroke what his mouth couldn’t reach. The other slid up San’s thigh, nails digging in just enough to sting.
San lost it.
His control snapped like a frayed wire. Both hands flew to Wooyoung’s hair, fingers threading through the strands and gripping hard. Not guiding, not yet, just holding on like Wooyoung was the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet. His hips started moving in small, helpless thrusts at first, then deeper, harder, chasing the wet heat that surrounded him.
“God- your mouth…fuck, you’re so-“
Words dissolved into gasps and broken curses. San’s abs flexed with every roll of his hips, sweat already beading along his hairline and the hollow of his throat.
He looked wrecked, mouth slack, chest heaving and Wooyoung drank in every second of it.
Wooyoung didn’t let up. He hollowed his cheeks on every upstroke, tongue pressing flat against the underside, swirling messy patterns around the head before swallowing San down to the root again. The wet, filthy sounds filled the room. Slick slides, muffled moans, the occasional gag when San pushed just a little too deep and Wooyoung took it anyway, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the stretch but never once pulling away.
Sans hips now snapping forward, fucking into Wooyoung’s mouth with less and less restraint. “You take it so good- l-look at you…swallowing me like-like you were made for it”
Wooyoung’s only response was to moan louder, the vibration ripping another ragged sound from San’s throat. One of Wooyoung’s hands slipped between his own legs, palming himself through his sweatpants, grinding against his palm in time with the way he bobbed on San’s cock.
San’s rhythm stuttered. His grip in Wooyoung’s hair tightened to the point of pain. “I’m-fuck, Wooyoung..I’m gonna-”
Wooyoung pulled off just long enough to rasp, voice hoarse and wrecked, “Come for me San-ah.”
Then he dove back down, taking San to the hilt and swallowing around him.
A guttural moan tore out of San as he came hard, pulsing, spilling down Wooyoung’s throat in thick, hot waves. Wooyoung didn’t flinch. He swallowed every drop, greedy and unrelenting, milking San through it with slow pulls of his mouth and the tight squeeze of his hand until San was trembling, oversensitive, hips jerking with aftershocks.
When Wooyoung finally pulled off, slow, lips shiny and swollen, he looked up at San with a dazed, triumphant smirk. His chin wet, eyes glassy with lust and tears.
San stared down at him, chest heaving, wrecked and reverent all at once.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice shot. “You’re insane.”
Wooyoung licked his lips once, slow and filthy. “I know.”
San’s hand slid from Wooyoung’s hair to cup his jaw, thumb brushing over the swollen bottom lip. “Get up here,” he growled, voice low and dangerous again.
“Not done with you yet.”
San hauled Wooyoung up from his knees in one fluid, powerful motion. Hands gripping his biceps hard enough to leave faint red marks on the pale skin, pulling him onto the bed until Wooyoung was straddling his lap, knees bracketing San’s hips on the rumpled sheets. Wooyoung’s weight settled against him immediately, heavy and warm, their bodies aligning with that instinctive precision born from too many nights like this, hidden away in hotel rooms or backstage corners where the world couldn’t touch them.
San’s cock, still half-hard and slick from Wooyoung’s mouth, twitched against Wooyoung’s thigh, already stirring back to life under the heat of his gaze and the press of his body.
Wooyoung didn’t waste time. He shoved at San’s chest, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make San lean back against the headboard, breath catching in his throat.
“You think you can just order me around now?”
Wooyoung muttered, voice hoarse from the earlier abuse to his throat, but laced with that familiar edge of challenge. His hands roamed San’s chest, nails scraping lightly over the skin, tracing the lines of muscle that flexed under his touch. He ground down once, feeling San harden against the cleft of his ass through the thin barrier of his sweatpants that were tented obscenely now, precome soaking through the grey fabric as he rutted against San.
“Lube?” Wooyoung rasped, his voice wrecked.
San, still breathing hard, lifted one shaky hand and pointed toward the nightstand on his right.
Wooyoung’s lips curled into that slow, knowing smirk, eyes glinting even through the haze. “You knew you were gonna fuck me hard tonight, didn’t you?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Reaching over San’s body, he stretched toward the nightstand, long fingers brushing the cool wood before hooking the drawer open with a quiet scrape. The small black bottle of lube was right there.
He popped the cap with his thumb, slicking his fingers generously while San watched, chest heaving, cock now fully hard and curving up against his stomach, flushed and leaking anew.
Wooyoung didn’t waste time. He shoved his own sweatpants and underwear down in one go, kicking them off the bed carelessly, his own erection springing free. Veined, tip shiny with need. Kneeling over San, he reached back with slick fingers, circling his entrance once before pushing one finger in, slow at first, then deeper, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he worked himself open. His free hand braced on San’s chest for balance, nails digging into the skin as he added a second finger, scissoring them with practiced ease, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room.
San’s hands found Wooyoung’s thighs, gripping hard as he watched the show. Wooyoung’s face twisting in pleasure-pain, lips parted on soft gasps, body rocking slightly as he fucked himself on his fingers.
“God, look at you,” San murmured, voice dropping from argumentative to reverent, thumb stroking circles into the soft inner thigh.
“So fucking eager. Missed this, missed you so much. So desperate.”
Wooyoung’s laugh was breathy, broken.
“Shut up and stroke yourself, get ready for me.” He added a third finger, stretching himself wider, hips canting back into his own hand while his eyes raked over San’s body like he couldn’t get enough.
San obeyed, wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping slowly. Base to tip, twisting at the head with a slick sound from the remnants of Wooyoung’s saliva and his own release.
Wooyoung moaned, fingers curling inside himself to hit that spot, prostate grazing just right and making his cock twitch against his stomach. He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, wiping them carelessly on the sheets before shifting forward, straddling San’s hips properly now, one hand guiding San’s cock to his entrance.
San’s free hand steadied Wooyoung’s waist, fingers splaying wide. Wooyoung sank down slowly. Inch by inch, the thick head breaching him first, stretching him open with a burn that was equal parts pain and bliss. He gasped, head falling forward, hair curtaining his face as he bottomed out, ass flush against San’s pelvis, feeling impossibly full. “God- yes..fuck, you’re so big,” he whimpered, hands bracing on San’s chest as he adjusted, inner walls clenching rhythmically around the intrusion.
San’s hips twitched up instinctively, a low growl rumbling from his throat.
“Nghhh-fuck, Woo-”
Words failed him as Wooyoung started rocking. Small circles at first, grinding down deep, then lifting up halfway before slamming back down, setting a pace that was slow but brutal, every drop sending shockwaves through them both.
Wooyoung rode him harder, thighs flexing with each rise and fall, cock bouncing against his stomach untouched and leaking steadily. Wooyoung panted, leaning back to change the angle, hands on San’s knees for leverage as he rolled his hips in deep, filthy grinds. San thrust up to meet him, hands guiding Wooyoung’s waist with bruising force, abs contracting with every snap of his hips.
Wooyoung’s head lolled back, exposing the marks San had left earlier, one hand finally wrapping around his own cock to stroke in time with his bounces. He was close already, the dual sensation of San filling him and his own hand driving him wild, prostate nailed on every downward thrust.
San’s control frayed further. He sat up suddenly, wrapping arms around Wooyoung’s back to pull him close, changing the angle so Wooyoung was grinding in his lap now, deep and intimate.
He gasped against Wooyoung’s mouth, stealing messy kisses between words. “Ah fuck-“
Wooyoung keened, riding faster, harder, the bed creaking under them as they chased release together. Bodies slick, breaths mingling, all the built-up horniness from the tour exploding in wave after wave of pleasure.
Wooyoung’s rhythm faltered for half a second when San pulled him flush against his chest, arms banding tight around his waist like he was afraid Wooyoung might disappear if he let go. Their mouths met again. Sloppy, open-mouthed, more sharing breath than kissing now. And Wooyoung moaned straight into it, the sound loud and unfiltered, echoing off the hotel walls in a way that made San’s cock throb harder inside him.
“San-“ Wooyoung’s voice cracked on the name, high and wrecked already. Every downward thrust punched a new moan out of him, raw and unrestrained, getting louder with each one. “Ah- shit, you’re so- fuck, right there”
San’s head tipped back against the headboard with a dull thud, eyes half-lidded and glassy as he watched Wooyoung move.
“God, listen to you,” San rasped, voice thick with awe and lust. “So loud- gonna wake the whole fucking floor-“
“Good-“ Wooyoung gasped, head falling back, throat exposed as another long, broken moan tore out of him. “Let them- let them hear.“ He slammed down particularly hard on the last word, grinding in deep circles that made his own cock leak steadily.
San’s control was hanging by a thread. One hand shot up to clamp over Wooyoung’s mouth. Not to silence him, just to feel the vibration of those wrecked sounds against his palm. Wooyoung’s eyes rolled back at the pressure, lashes fluttering, and he moaned even louder into San’s hand, the muffled sound somehow filthier.
“You’re so- fuck…so tight,” San panted, hips pistoning up faster now, meeting Wooyoung’s drops with brutal precision. “Taking me so good-” He removed his hand just in time for Wooyoung to let out another shameless wail.
“San…San- gonna..fuck, I’m close-“
Wooyoung’s voice was shredded, words tumbling out between gasps and cries. His thighs trembled violently, muscles straining as he bounced harder, faster, chasing that edge with single-minded desperation. His cock slapped wetly against San’s stomach with every movement, leaking so much it pooled in the dips of San’s abs.
San wrapped a hand around Wooyoung’s length then. Stroked him in rough, twisting pulls that matched the brutal rhythm of their hips. “Come for me. Let me hear how good it feels-“
That did it.
Wooyoung’s whole body locked up. Back arching, mouth falling open in a silent scream that quickly shattered into the loudest, most broken moan yet. His walls clenched impossibly tight around San’s cock, fluttering and pulsing, milking him relentlessly.
The sight, the sound, the scene of Wooyoung coming sent San over the edge right after. He buried himself to the hilt with one last, punishing thrust and came with a guttural groan. Deep, pulsing waves that filled Wooyoung until it leaked out around the base of his cock, slick and hot.
His hips jerked erratically through the aftershocks, grinding up into that oversensitive heat while Wooyoung kept moaning soft, wrecked little whimpers now, body trembling as he rode out the last tremors.
They stayed locked together for long moments, breathing ragged, sweat-slick skin pressed tight. Wooyoung collapsed forward onto San’s chest, face buried in the crook of his neck, still making tiny, involuntary sounds. Half-moans, half-sighs every time San twitched inside him.
San’s arms came up around him automatically, one hand carding gently through Wooyoung’s damp, tangled hair while the other rubbed slow circles over his back. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I missed this.”
Wooyoung huffed a shaky laugh against his skin, still catching his breath. “Me too.”
San pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of his head, both of them boneless and wrecked and perfectly content in the afterglow, the room still ringing faintly with the echo of Wooyoung’s cries.
San stayed buried inside Wooyoung for a few long, lazy moments after they both came down, neither of them in a hurry to break the connection. Their breathing slowly synced, ragged at first, then deeper and steadier.
Eventually, San pressed another soft kiss to the top of Wooyoung’s head. “Hey,” he murmured, voice hoarse but impossibly tender now. “Gonna pull out, okay?”
Wooyoung made a small, protesting noise but nodded against his shoulder, fingers curling loosely into San’s sides.
San moved carefully, lifting his hips just enough to ease out inch by inch, both of them hissing softly at the sudden emptiness and the wet slide of come leaking out. Wooyoung clenched instinctively, trying to keep it in, and San soothed him with a low shush, thumb rubbing gentle circles over his hip.
Once he was fully out, San shifted them both. Rolling Wooyoung onto his back beside him on the rumpled sheets. Wooyoung’s legs fell open naturally, boneless, thighs trembling faintly from the strain of riding so hard. San took a second just to look, taking in the flush that still painted Wooyoung’s chest and neck, the dark marks blooming where he’d sucked and bitten earlier. Beautiful. Wrecked. His.
“Stay right there,” San said quietly, pressing one last kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead before sliding off the bed.
He shakily padded to the bathroom on quiet feet, grabbed a clean washcloth from the stack by the sink, and ran it under warm water. When he returned, Wooyoung had rolled onto his side, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes and a small, lazy smile.
San knelt between Wooyoung’s legs again, gentle this time, nothing like the urgency from before. He draped the warm cloth over Wooyoung’s softening cock first, letting him feel the soothing heat, then carefully wiped away the mess on his stomach and thighs.
Wooyoung sighed, long and content, hips lifting slightly into the touch.
“Feels nice,” he mumbled, voice still rough from all the moaning.
San hummed in acknowledgment, moving lower. He parted Wooyoung’s thighs with careful hands and cleaned him there too. Slow, tender strokes around his entrance, wiping away the sticky trails of come that had leaked down his inner thighs.
Wooyoung shivered once, oversensitive, but didn’t pull away. Instead he reached down and threaded his fingers through San’s hair.
“Thank you.” Wooyoung whispered, the words soft.
San’s chest tightened. He leaned down and pressed the lightest of kisses to the inside of Wooyoung’s thigh, right over one of the faint red marks he’d left with his grip earlier. “You deserve it,” he murmured against the skin. “Always.”
When he was satisfied that Wooyoung and himself, were clean and comfortable, San tossed the cloth onto the bathroom floor to deal with later. He grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the minibar, cracked it open, and brought it back to the bed.
“Drink,” he said. Wooyoung took the bottle with both hands, sipping slowly.
Once Wooyoung had drunk enough, San took the bottle back, set it on the nightstand, and finally crawled back into bed. He pulled the covers up over both of them, then tugged Wooyoung close. Arranging him until Wooyoung’s head rested on San’s chest, one leg thrown over San’s thigh, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces.
Wooyoung let out a long, happy sigh, nuzzling into the crook of San’s neck. “You smell like me now,” he mumbled, lips brushing skin.
San chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Good.”
One of San’s hands found its way back into Wooyoung’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp in slow, soothing rhythms. The other rubbed lazy circles over Wooyoung’s bare back. Up and down, tracing the knobs of his spine, dipping into the dimples at the small of his back. Wooyoung practically melted under the attention, body going completely lax, heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction.
For a long while they just lay there. Quiet breathing, the faint thump of hearts slowly returning to normal, the occasional soft hum from Wooyoung when San’s fingers hit a particularly nice spot.
“You okay?” San asked eventually, voice barely above a whisper.
Wooyoung nodded against his chest. “More than okay. Just… really full. And happy.” A small pause. “And sore. In the best way.”
San smiled into his hair. “Tell me if it’s too much tomorrow. I’ll carry you to the airport if I have to.”
Wooyoung laughed quietly, the sound sleepy and fond. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Wooyoung’s fingers started tracing idle patterns over San’s collarbone. Small hearts, random swirls, nothing in particular. “Love you,” he whispered, so soft it almost got lost in the sheets.
San’s arms tightened around him instinctively. “Love you too, Wooyoungie. So much.”
He pressed one last kiss to Wooyoung’s temple, then tucked Wooyoung’s head more securely under his chin. The room lights were still on low, but neither of them bothered to turn them off.
Wooyoung’s breathing evened out first. Slow, deep inhales and exhales that fanned warm across San’s skin. San kept stroking his back long after Wooyoung had drifted off, listening to the quiet sounds of sleep, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Only when he was sure Wooyoung was deeply asleep, San finally let his own eyes close, a small, contented smile lingering on his lips as he held the most important person in his world close against his heart.