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There is much that San doesn't know about himself—he has a whole life to live after all!—but what he does know for certain is two things. One, he has a major sweet tooth. Like, unparalleled. As in, he can't name anyone else besides maybe Park Seonghwa that could even come close to rivalling his love for sweets. Two, he is a major closeted pervert—one that has been, somehow, successfully hiding it from the love of his life (read: unlabelled situation-ship).
This isn't to say that the sex they've been having is bad by any means! God, it could never be anything but sickeningly good. It's just that recently, nothing has been enough to satiate him. Nothing has been enough to rid himself, his mind and heart, of this infatuation—not talking about Wooyoung, he could never get rid of Wooyoung.
San knows that keeping silent is never the answer. Knows that he should just stop being a damn coward and just tell him what he really, really wants to do with Wooyoung. But at the end of the day, the cowardice wraps round and round, digging into his heart like Kurapika's judgment chain; piercing through, leaving him bleeding out if he ever tries to utter word of his perversion—if he ever dared to diffuse it through the thin walls of his heart into his veins and expel it as carbon dioxide out of his mouth. And so, he keeps his desires held close to his heart, even if he can feel those same chains loosening with every torturous wet dream.
This infatuation lodged in San's prefrontal cortex began where all issues regarding his heart do: Wooyoung.
San had just finished crunching his assignment—camped out in a dark computer lab room looking more like a ghost haunting the space than a living, breathing human being. Despite being hidden from eyesight in the corner of the room, someone bursts through the door with a loud clack of the lock unlatching, and he hears a pair of footsteps bound toward him with purpose. Another presence plops down onto the swivelly chair next to him without a word. San looks up, about to politely cuss them out for choosing the desktop next to him instead of literally any other one, but his mouth gapes uselessly as he sees it's Wooyoung!
His heart sings as his eyes roam over the first person he has seen in what feels like the centuries he's spent rotting away in this room. His gaze wanders over the smile on Wooyoung's face and the décolletage on show from his stretched out, oversized band shirt he's paired with some baggy denim jeans that absolutely look way too familiar to San and are definitely not in Wooyoung's size, trust, San would know. Though, a warm possessive feeling blooms in his chest as he realises that Wooyoung is wearing his clothes! His traitorous little heart swells near overwhelm, but San keeps his mouth firmly sealed, keeps the tight chain securely wrapped around the beating organ lest he goes spilling his guts inside out for Wooyoung to see him bare in his entirety. San shivers.
"Are you cold? How's it going Sannie?" Wooyoung beams, reaching out to rub San's nape. The proximity means that Wooyoung's warm, sweet musky perfume wafts over him soothingly as his eyes close into twin slits, subtly pushing more into Wooyoung's hold like a kitten demanding more affection.
"Mmm," San rumbles, a sound neither agreeing or disagreeing with Wooyoung's first question. "Youngie… I finished my assignment," he continues, practically preening for approval as he pouts smugly, dimples out and all.
"Ah, really?" Wooyoung drags the syllables, "then good boys deserve a prize right?"
San perks up at Wooyoung's words. His eyes pop open, half with wonder and the other half with disappointment at the retraction of warmth that once rested on his neck. Then, two Chupa Chups are dug up from Wooyoung's stylish black sling-bag, the zipper weighed down with a plush key-chain of a small, blushing purple kitty (which Wooyoung had once said looked exactly like San!). Wooyoung grabs one, strawberry and cream flavoured, unwrapping it with ease before lifting it to San's soft pout.
His cheeks warm as he parts his lips, letting Wooyoung push the pink head onto his awaiting tongue. San hums in thanks, holding the lollipop in place with his lips. He watches then, with rapt attention, as Wooyoung unwraps the other lollipop and descends on it. His rosy tongue flicks out, guiding the lollipop in then pulling it out, tapping it on his slicked lips.
"Anyway, you're so lucky this was your last assignment. I wish I was you—I have another class to get to after this and my group mates are such fucking assholes…"
The thing is, San really does try to listen to Wooyoung's whining. He really does because he loves it. Truly. Any time, any day of the week, he'd gladly listen to Wooyoung ramble as if tuning into his favourite podcast.
But fuck. How is any sane person able to focus when he does that?
He's fixated. On Wooyoung, wetly popping the Chupa Chup in, and out of his mouth. On him rubbing the lollipop over that full bottom lip unconsciously while he rants, swiping it over the mole he loves to suck on so much when he's rewarded with the opportunity to do so.
Wooyoung's lips shine with the mix of saliva and candy flavouring, compelling San to lick his own in a sad attempt to suppress the craving to selfishly place his mouth on his and just take. He watches like a sick voyeur, as his friend pulls the sweet out again with a disgustingly moist pop! after a harsh suck that hollowed out his cheeks. San's dick gives a pathetic twitch in his pants, as he pleads to any deity who can hear him to let him swap places with the stupid fucking lollipop.
"San-ah," Wooyoung groans, though his lips flicker into a cunning smirk, "are you even listening to me right now?"
"Sorry Youngie, your group mates?" San stutters in response, as he slides his chair closer toward the desk in an attempt to hide how pitifully hard he's getting from watching Wooyoung suck and swap spit with a lollipop.
"Hm," humming and still smiling like he knows something San doesn't, "I'll let it slide for now because I've got to run! See you later Sannie," he sing-songs.
The chair spins slightly with the momentum of Wooyoung standing, who leaves San with a demure wave of his fingers and a growing problem in his pants. As the saying goes, San hates to see him go, but loves to watch him leave indeed. Though that's also partly because even though there was absolutely zero action, he's already embarrassingly straining against the confines of his sweats and he needs to take care of it as soon as physically possible.
And so, San packs his shit up with a speed faster than Minato's Flying Thunder God technique, and hightails it to the comfort of his dorm room. Moving as efficiently as he can, he throws off his pants, leaving him in his light grey boxers. He essentially leaps onto his bed, wiggling a bit to get comfortable against the pillows propped up by his headboard. Leaning his head back he wastes no time, roughly palming himself through his boxers, marvelling a little at the dark wet patch that grows exponentially in size as he continues his ministrations.
Head now fully tilted back, as his mouth gapes into a small 'o', San closes his eyes and lets his mind wander. With great focus he channels the last time he and Wooyoung were together. He recalls being crammed into a dingy bathroom stall after the both of them had gotten each other a little too riled up whilst on, what was supposed to be, an innocent walk in the park for a change of scenery from studying.
San lifts his hips to shove the boxers down to his thighs as the image escalates. He's already leaking from before in the computer lab—wet enough from the precum drooling from his tip and dripping down the sides of it that his grip slips a little. He imagines that his hand is Wooyoung's sopping mouth, reminiscing about the way that devious tongue had swirled around his tip before taking it between his lips and sucking like he wanted to excavate San's soul from his body.
Just like how he had been sucking on that lollipop. San whines at the recent memory of Wooyoung's teasing lilt as he had basically fucked his own mouth with the candy while babbling on about his next class like he didn't know exactly the effect he had on Choi San.
Letting a swear hiss out through gritted teeth he grows harder in his own hands. Quickly, he feels the end near. He keeps at it—squeezing rhythmically at his tip while his other hand rubs up and down his length at the pace Wooyoung usually works his mouth to. But despite his heightened pleasure, he can't seem to actually finish.
Impatient, he lets go of his cock with a frustrated whimper as it bobs without the support of his hands, and scrambles for his phone. As if on autopilot, he switches to a private tab and opens his trusty site. Maybe visual stimuli will help?
His dick is painfully hard and sporting an angry shade of red. With one hand trying to soothe himself, he wipes the other on his boxers and uses it to thumb the first word that manages to break through his horny-haze and make it to the processing part of his brain: lollipop. San's eyes widen as he's met with less than 100 results.
He clicks on the first video.
The video starts off with an irrelevant person unwrapping a Chupa Chup while their partner lays on their back out of focus and he huffs, skipping to the part where he can project Wooyoung's image onto them. And then. He finds it. Holy fucking shit! His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull and his jaw genuinely dislodges, because, how has he not thought of doing this before?
He watches, fucking salivating, as the person holding the stick of the lollipop swirls the hard candy inside their partner's hole while their partner wreathes—knees knocking together to hide from the pleasure. He continues to watch, hand on dick not even moving, as the lollipop is repetitively fucked in and out, popping as it's pulled back. Watches, as their hole squeezes around the candy, causing what's probably a mix of natural wetness, lube and cum to slowly ooze and drip down onto the soiled sheets. As San begins to wonder the taste, he watches the person closest to the camera suddenly pull out the lollipop, and nose-dive into their partner's cunt—licking, sucking, as a throaty moan thunders from their chest.
With his grip still locked around his own dick, he imagines doing the same to Wooyoung. That is, reducing him to a sweaty, twitching mess, tasting like a Michelin combination of his favourite flavours of strawberry, cream, and best of all, the heady taste of Wooyoung himself.
He comes suddenly from the image and the ghost of that delicious mix on his tongue and it's loud and intense.
His eyes roll back as swears fizzle aggressively through his gritted teeth. His balls tense as they empty—San harshly stroking himself and kneading at the base of his cock, as he milks all he can. And when he eventually comes down, the squeeze of his hands now a gentle soothe instead of that fast desperate pace, he realises that he came so hard some of it landed on his chin and chest. He doesn't even wince as he feels the warmth of it slowly start to dribble down his chin and seep into his shirt, becoming one with the cotton fibres. He is in, quite frankly, an indescribable state of awe, inspiration and a weird limbo of finally figuring out what he was missing yet still feeling afflicted with the hunger for more.
San had come so hard he thinks that his chakras fucking aligned.
The video on his phone, forgotten entirely, goes black and reality settles back in making him reach for something to clean himself up with. Life-altering jack off session cleared, he grabs his phone with now clean hands, and swipes out of the full-screened video only to read: Making a messy pussypop! 🍭😜
His jaw dislodges once more, as his dick gives a feeble little twitch. He will just have one more thing to hide from Wooyoung he thinks, as he shamefully shelves the newly ascertained kink right next to his ever-growing feelings for his friend.
…
Who he believes is torturing him. Maybe on purpose.
"No you guys don't get it, like, he wants me dead! He wants to see me dead, and bleeding out, and dying—"
"Hey guys! Can I get you lot anything else?" Their waitress comes over to check on them, interrupting San's loud spiral. They all pause awkwardly as she pins San a look of concern after a second of processing the conversation she had just interrupted, the look so hysterically in contrast to the serene persona she had previously donned, that they had to adopt an air of fake nonchalance lest they start howling.
Mingi, mouth twitching and clutching at his thighs like he's trying to physically hold himself back from laughing in her face, is the first to speak up, "Um… yeah, could we just. Ehem, get our drinks refilled. Please?" To which the waitress nods, sending San another judgemental look before continuing to make her rounds. As soon as she is out of hearing-range, the seal on the moment weakens and breaks, causing a flood of cackles to be directed at San's expense.
"Could you actually be any fucking louder?" Jongho interjects.
"San, what on earth are you talking about?" Yunho cries, who then starts slurping up his soba with the gusto of someone who had been starved for days, "she's going to think you're being headhunted or something."
"Yeah dude, what are you talking about? Who wants you dead?" Mingi chimes in, still half-way chewing his food.
San runs an exasperated hand through the roots of his hair, making him look crazed, as the harsh movement causes the short lengths to stick up in weird directions. His cheeks are pink and hot to the touch from embarrassment, as he whisper-shouts, "Wooyoung! Who else would I be talking about?"
His three friends share a long, withering look as if to say 'they should've known'. Jongho shakes his head, placing his chopsticks down on his napkin.
"Firstly, you're paying for all of our food—"
"Wait what?"
"—because we know that you're about to spew some absolute bullshit so bad that listening to you should be considered a full-time job that comes with a free mental health care plan. Now tell."
Silence, then acceptance. San starts to utter something out so quietly they all nearly miss it. So they all lean in quickly enough to hear, "…He keeps sucking lollipops around me."
Three wailing groans echo out in a perfect, practised unison of vexation. Which of course does not deter San from continuing.
"He keeps sucking lollipops around me and I feel like I'm losing my mind! It was so bad that the other day I had to sprint to my room like I was fucking Iida with his stupid turbo engine calves, which I still find weird by the way—"
"Oh my fucking god you are the biggest nerd—" Mingi interrupts.
"—and it gets worse because I, fuck, wacked off so hard I basically ascended, like Super Saiyan, and now I can't stop thinking about wanting to stick a lollipop in him and suck him clean?"
"Um…" Their waitress warbles to announce her presence. She startles a little as they all slowly turn to face her, simultaneous in time and speed. "Sorry. I need to fill your drinks up?" Another bout of silence, grim. She fills up their glasses, damn near just setting the jug on their table so she wouldn't have to come back. This time though, she scurries away without looking any of them in the eye—safe to assume that if they needed anything else they would just have to get their sorry asses up and serve themselves.
"Christ, San…" Yunho starts, hand over his face to hide his embarrassment. Jongho just sighs, as he slumps into the booth, face deadpan like his spirit has been drained from this entire interaction because unfortunately, he was right. Mingi on the other hand, looks like he is having the time of his fucking life. "You're going to pay for our food and tip her generously for the emotional damage you've dealt on her poor soul, or we'll be permabanned from here and you know they have the best abura soba."
Mingi just snickers, nearly hiccuping and gasping for air, as he curls his arms around his stomach for dear life. "San, oh my god. You're killing me—y-you're fucking red!"
"I'm sorry!" He nearly screams out, frenzied, "I didn't know she'd be like right there!" He's red-hot with humiliation, cheeks superheated, the heat radiating off him like he's some stupid high-school exothermic reaction experiment.
Jongho exhales again, gathering the courage to acknowledge what San had actually said out loud with his full chest. "I think… you need to say, whatever the fuck you just said, to Wooyoung."
"I can't—" San tries to assert.
"San are you really trying to tell us he has no idea about how much of a weird pervert you are? Just tell him." Okay, thanks Yunho!
"No, I—"
"Dude, Wooyoung will probably take it in stride. He's probably just as sick as you—I mean, he even read that KiriBaku doujinshi for you, right? Even though he prefers BakuDeku? Wait I remember, he literally did! Like—literally a week after meeting you," Mingi argues.
San stops to think for a bit, eyes animatedly darting up and to the side as he brings a hand to cup his chin. "Well yeah, but this is different!" Different to San at least, because at the end of the day, no matter how close him and Wooyoung are, he really doesn't want to scare him off before they even had a fighting chance.
Seemingly picking up on San's slight change in mood, Yunho gives him a slice of comfort, "San. This is what I know from Yeosang, so pretend you don't know, okay?" San nods vigorously. "Wooyoung really cares about you. Talks about you nearly all the time to Sangie. Do you know why he reposts so much shit about wanting to be railed into the next year by a loser nerd?" San shakes his head. "Look, what I'm trying to say, is that maybe… he's vague posting about you."
"Oh, cut the crap—he's definitely posting about San," Jongho exclaims. "How many other hot buff loser nerds do you think he even knows?"
San is quiet for a moment, though he can't deny the slight rush of adrenaline and hope that circulates his system.
"Do you guys really think so?" San asks, eyes twinkling a little.
Yunho and Jongho just about screams, "For heaven's sake—yes!"
"I swear on my mum that he wants you bro," Mingi adds as he nods solemnly, hand held to his heart.
And like the girl who is going to be okay, San's mouth quivers into a minuscule grin. Yeah, maybe he will tell Wooyoung.
"What are you smiling for? You still have to pay for our food."
"Jongho, please—"
…
For the past few days, Wooyoung has been a little confused, but also majorly pent up. Of course, there is only one soul to blame for his plight—Choi San.
See if, hypothetically, he had been hanging around San with a copious supply of strawberry and cream flavoured Chupa Chups in the hopes of provoking San to sample the saccharine taste of it from his lips, then is that so wrong?
A fresh one sits prettily in his mouth now—the head of it causing the flesh of his cheek to jut out in a suggestive curve, as his mouth instinctively salivates around the intrusion. He's hogging the side of San's double bed closest to the wall, comfortably caressing his calf in self-soothing motions with his socked foot as he waits for San to join him.
Tonight he's set his intentions, and he'll endeavour to make them manifest at any cost, already feeling the familiar, tingling heat pool in his lower abdomen while he watches San awkwardly fiddle around with his laptop before getting comfortable next to him. San settles in close, crowding Wooyoung with his wide shoulders and toned arms unclad by his well-worn grey tank top. His hair is freshly cut—Wooyoung had accompanied him to make sure the barber didn't fuck him up, because he has to be the one to look at San nearly twenty-four-seven dammit!—cropped closer to his scalp than his usual go-to length and still a little saturated from his shower he had taken after he so kindly let Wooyoung go first, the gentleman that he is.
Their scents intermingle in their close proximity, and when combined with the domestic ambience, simultaneously makes Wooyoung's heart thrum to a delighted rhythm yet also prompts him into crossing one long leg over the other—pinching his thighs together with a light squeeze.
"Young-ah, Wooyo-ie, what do you wanna watch?" San drawls with his fingers already hovering over his keyboard. "Is it your turn to choose or mine hmm?"
Wooyoung leans his head onto San's shoulder, softly slurring around his lollipop, "You can choose what to watch," and from the angle of San's chin grazing the top of his head, he can parse that San is ogling at his exposed collarbones. He smiles, pleased, nuzzling his cheek into San's shoulder, before taking out his candy to give him a little nip that makes San's whole body jolt.
"Hello-o-o," Wooyoung intones tauntingly, "choose already Sannie."
In lieu of a response to his bratty behaviour, San jostles Wooyoung's head that rests on his shoulder with a small quick up-down motion.
"Yah—don't bite me… I'm all sticky and gross now," San mutters through pouty lips, but goes to type in his favourite pirating site anyway, causing the search bar to drop down and expose his recent history. Wooyoung is about to mouth off about licking him clean, waving the hand that is occupied by his lollipop around in the air for dramatics, when one of the recent links San had visited catches his eye. He freezes in place.
Watch again: Making a messy pussypop! 🍭😜
What the actual fuck.
As soon as San starts typing, the link disappears. "Is it really okay if I choose though? I want to re-watch Haikyu!! from season three because Ushijima's spikes are—"
"Wait. Go back. What the hell was that?"
San pauses—seemingly oblivious, sounding startled by Wooyoung's sudden urgency.
"What? What was what?" He asks slowly, carefully. San nudges Wooyoung with his shoulder again.
Wooyoung withdraws his head with such haste he feels dizzy. He shoots up straight, uncrossing his legs, arms immediately prickling all over with goosebumps from the loss of San's acquainted warmth. Wooyoung shoves the lollipop in his hand back into his mouth, then snatches the laptop from where it idles innocently on San's lap so wildly, that the screen tilts back at least forty-five degrees from the sheer momentum of his velocity.
The device now warms his own thighs; Wooyoung spams the backspace button with a trembling finger—ignoring the slight cramping by focusing on the exhilaration caused by his adrenaline, because his body can't distinguish the difference between a life-or-death scenario and the concept of his best friend watching porn about making a pussypop… Fuck, he has got to see this or he'll never forgive himself.
San crams himself into Wooyoung's space like a curious cat, nearly cheek to cheek. Then as soon as the search bar is cleared of the words muddying the drop-down menu with the stupid suggested fill-ins, he sees it again.
This time, however, he knows San sees it too.
San's hand flies to the lid of the laptop, but Wooyoung is quicker, batting the offending limb away and holding it with a firm clamp, as he clicks onto the video. The video in question buffers—the icon spinning round and round, exacerbating Wooyoung's eagerness and San's outwardly growing distress.
"Shit, Wooyoung, wait—" He starts, but is ultimately broken off by the loud moaning blasting through the speakers of his laptop. Wooyoung tries to focus on the scene unfolding in front of him, but a tepid, sweaty hand blocks his view of the screen. "Wait—this is so-o embarrassing, oh my god. I am so sorry, I-fuck-forgot to delete my search history," San fearfully whimpers. "Wooyoung-ah, please don't look."
"San-ah. Let me see," Wooyoung mumbles severely.
The hand suspended in front of him hesitantly drops, and San shuffles away from Wooyoung a little to give him some space, still lingering close enough to monitor his face for a reaction, fidgeting as if he'll banish himself from his own premises at the first sign of Wooyoung's unease.
Wooyoung examines the contents of the video, analytic, relaxing his face into an impassive deadpan. He doesn't want to give himself away just yet. From the corner of his eye he can see San squirm where he's sat beside him, sagging his entire body weight. Can feel his slightly shiny eyes scan every little feature of Wooyoung's own face.
Good.
He wants to torment San just a little longer. Wants to let that trepidation stew. That's where all the fun is after all. So for the entire six minutes and thirty two seconds of the video, they sit side-by-side, anchored to this moment by the oppressive silence—only disturbed by breathy groans, wet sounds, and the occasional whine of Wooyoung's name by a demoralised San to get his attention, get him to change his mind and wipe the last few moments of their life clean and start over from when San's perversion wasn't mutual knowledge.
The end of the video is denoted by the screen going black and a replay button popping up. With the bright warm bedside lamps on, the likeness of them sat next to each other is reflected on the darkened screen. Wooyoung is not ashamed to note that San didn't disappoint him in the least. Because from watching the video, he's also terribly curious. On how the hard, sugary candy he's rolling on his tongue might feel, as it's fucked into him. The lollipop residing in his mouth now is just a small sphere now after having sucked at it for so long.
He snickers to himself, he would have to unwrap a fresh one soon.
Unbeknownst to San, his curiosity is extremely clear to himself based on how his dampened underwear clings to his folds like second skin, the almost excessive wetness nearly makes him wreathe uncomfortably, and he feels that familiar longing ache inside him. He shies at heart—feels it weigh at the centre of his chest—at even more of that wetness slowly ooze out, causing him to instinctively clench down on nothing. The more he dwells on it, the steadier that beating pulse between his thighs thumps firmer, steadier.
Wooyoung bites down with an audible crunch on what's left of the sweet to maintain some sense of composure, "You fucking pervert. Care to explain that?" He scoffs sardonically, turning away from the man next to him to chuck the finished stick into the compact bin on the floor. Wooyoung shuts the laptop, placing it on the carpeted floor, before wriggling his hand into the pocket of his cotton shorts. He fumbles around—he was sure he had brought two—retracting his hand in perverse satisfaction when he confirms that it was still there.
However, upon twisting his body back to meet those tear-rimmed eyes, Wooyoung almost loses it then and there.
San is sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. Those strong shoulders are hunched over, his muscular arms bulging, as they wrap around one fluffy pillow. Teary eyes droop at their ends, eyebrows scrunched together in angst. He's flushed all pretty and pink, aglow with humiliation. Wooyoung can feel himself throb, needing.
Then, San huffs, averting his gaze, pout on full display, as he faintly whines low in his throat. The sight and sound makes Wooyoung soften, San's pitiful state ebbing away at something in his soul, making him drop his meaner nonchalant act to move in closer and regain the lost eye contact.
Sitting on his knees, all-up in San's face, Wooyoung taunts him with sickening glee. "Na-a-w, Sannie is shy now? Hmm? He doesn't wanna tell Youngie what he's been watching in secret?"
When San doesn't reply again, Wooyoung caresses his face with hands. San is as pink as ever, radiating a level of warmth that if Wooyoung didn't know any better, he'd think he was feverish. Wooyoung runs his fingers over the underside of San's eyes where the blush is mainly concentrated. Then he moves to cup San's cheek, rubbing his thumbs back and forth while he admires the smoothness of his skin—he marvels a little, wondering how on earth he had struck gold. How he got lucky enough in this life to have met, and get to know someone as kind-hearted and handsome as San. Gosh, he's gone soft.
He stares shamelessly, as San wets those perfect lips with his cute tongue, the line of his cupid's bow shining with the residual moisture. His thick eyebrows are still pinched together adorably, imbuing Wooyoung with the urge to reach in and kiss the crinkle away.
"Young-ah…" The nickname slips out, whispered all too mellow to be reprimanding in any way.
Wooyoung croons in response, and no longer can he contain all his mirth, as he uncontrollably grins, brazen, ear to ear. He shifts to straddle himself on San's thighs, onto the spot just before they narrow down into his knees.
"Sannie, San-ah. Come on, tell me what you did while watching," again, San upholds his silence, but the way he clamps down onto his pillow is a physical reminder that he's holding back from probably spewing his guts. "Or-r, maybe you could tell me what you were thinking about while watching instead?" He says sultrily, tilting his head.
He leans his weight onto his knees, pinning his hands onto the mattress for balance to crawl closer towards San, maintaining their gaze. Wooyoung brings a merciful hand to graze the pillow in silent question, and after cradling it just the bit tighter, San fully loosens up his arms in answer. So, Wooyoung grabs the pillow, flinging it toward the wall-side.
He looks down—ah, poor thing is fuckin' hard.
"Awe, baby, what's this?" Wooyoung coos, as he drops his heft into San's lap. Instantaneous is the way strong hands encompass his waist, so in kind, he leans in closer to wrap his arms around San's neck in a loose hug. Then, Wooyoung grinds down, connecting them where they're both sensitive and needing—rubbing his clothed pussy all over the tent in San's sweats.
"Young-ah," San whines and Wooyoung gasps, as he feels the arms snaked around his waist squeeze and tighten, pushing him down whilst guiding his hips back and forth. He's ensnared in San's vice grip, subjected to San grinding up, and up, practically digging into his core through their clothes. The friction is addictive, pleasured sighs and pants heating the surrounding air. "Please."
"Young-ah, Youngie, Young-ah, is that all you can say?" Wooyoung mocks, breathing heavily into San's crimsoned ears while he continues to slothfully circle his hips. He presses a kiss to his pink earlobe, bringing his tongue to run it along his helix, "do you even hear yourself right now, San-ah? Already sounding so fucked-out and desperate, and we haven't even done anything other than watch your depraved porn."
At his words, San's hips twitch pathetically underneath him, squirming and stuttering in their rhythm. Wooyoung can feel San's paws scrunch at the excess fabric of his oversized shirt for some sort of purchase, "Stop—"
"Should I fulfill your fantasies tonight Sannie? You really wanna fuck a lollipop into me that bad that you're going so-o stupid you can't even say more than two words at once? Want me to let you sweeten me up and eat me out till I'm, fuck, cry—crying for your cock?" Wooyoung pushes a bit more. "Yah, San-ah, aren't you lucky you have me to play with all you want?"
He can feel, more than he can see, San nod vigorously from where he's hidden his darling face into Wooyoung's neck. He's precious when he gets like this, but Wooyoung can feel the prickling impatience seep into his blood. Leaving San's nape with one pacifying pet, Wooyoung shuffles back a bit, startling San with his distance, causing puppy-like, red-rimmed eyes to widen with uncertainty.
Wooyoung can tell San's about to open his useless mouth to babble out an inquisitive little sound to urge him to explain his actions, so he'll just hastily make his intentions as explicit as possible.
"Don't worry, San-ah," Wooyoung smiles, shifting his butt a little to make it easier for himself to grab the spare lollipop from his pocket. He brings it to their eye-level, "Strawberry and cream is your favourite right?" Seeing San nod obediently, he starts to unravel the crinkly, pink plastic from the sweet. Throwing the packaging onto San's bedside table, he places the lollipop onto San's bitten lips.
"Open up for me." San abides, inviting the saccharine taste of strawberries and cream into his mouth, eyes never leaving Wooyoung's once.
When Wooyoung deems the lollipop to be thoroughly wet and coated, he slips the candy back out of San's mouth with a pop, bemused at the string of saliva bridging the two before it snaps back onto slickened, plump lips.
Then, he leans back, sighing as he brings his free hand to press onto his clit, circling himself with three fingers through the thick material of his shorts, gliding them down a little to probe his fingertips onto his covered fluttering hole to tide himself over for now. He pulls the material of his shorts aside, showing San how he's completely soaked through his thin white cotton underwear—so soaked San can probably see everything through the translucent material.
He confirms it, as San moans, squeezing Wooyoung's waist hard with one hand, while bringing the other to thumb at his clit through his panties, making him writhe with ecstasy from the near direct contact.
Wooyoung puts a stop to San's touching with a berating clasp onto the guilty wrist. Compliantly, San stops touching, but not without letting his displeasure be known through another throaty whimper at Wooyoung's unkind act of denial. "Young-ah, please, please let me touch you."
"Hmmm." Wooyoung hums, letting San go when he's sure he won't act up, using the same hand to finally tug his sheer, sodden underwear aside, baring himself to San's debauched gaze.
"Fu-fuck, Youngie," San groans eyebrows taut, bucking up to find relief, and he knows—knows that he's obscenely wet with his soft, dark curls saturated, shiny with his own arousal. He takes a hand, leisurely trailing it down to his slippery folds underneath the unshaven hair, parting them with two fingers to show off how already ruined he is to his one-man audience. He feels San relocate his hold, now clutching onto Wooyoung's thighs so hard his flesh deliciously spills out between San's splayed out digits.
He swaps the lollipop into his dominant hand, switching to hold his shorts and underwear to the side, then taps the head of the candy onto his clit, twitching from the sudden, foreign stimulation. "How did they do it in your video—do you remember? Oh, you must," Wooyoung purrs coyly, "probably watched it enough times that its ingrained in your muscle memory already."
San's mouth is parted, he's still flushed and wimpish, eyes half-lidded, gnawing on his poor lower lip—beguiled by how Wooyoung starts to circle his clit enticingly with the lollipop. "Did they do it like this?" Wooyoung hums, running it up and down his folds in a soppy rhythm.
"Or, maybe, you wanna see me do it like this," he murmurs, resting the lollipop just at his entrance, before slowly pushing it in. His cheeks pinked, bashful at seeing how easy his cunt swallows the lollipop whole—already dripping, ready and pliant to receive. He starts to twist the lollipop shallowly inside his hole to stretch himself a little, rubbing the hardness of it all around his walls whilst moaning at the sloppy sounds emanating from his self-pleasure.
San manages to lowly mutter, "Holy shit, Wooyoung," his cock still trapped under the confines of his pants, probably weeping and aching to be home inside Wooyoung's tight warmth. He makes no move to change that yet, still seemingly content to continue grabbing onto Wooyoung's thighs for dear life. And because Wooyoung loves seeing him all desperate and keyed up, he continues to ignore San's sorry little pleas.
He pushes the sweetness inside deeper with soft sploshes, feeling it open himself up even more, spreading that candied saccharinity all the way up inside. The pleasure makes him slacken, head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut. "Fuck," he moans, nudging the lollipop in so, so deep, that his fingertips slide up against his folds, drenching them with sticky sweet arousal. He feels one hand release one of his thighs, feels it travel down to his cunt before two fingers pry him open, spreading his folds apart. He feels San's gaze, where he can only imagine how greedy his hole looks, so effortlessly taking the lollipop in—the intensity of San's scrutiny making him restless.
Then, on thrusting it back in, as he tilts his body forward to reset his position, the head of the lollipop brushes up against the spongy, bumpy spot of tissue inside of him, and the sudden sharp tingle of gratification has him thrashing in San's one-handed grip, a high-pitched whine escaping from pleasure bitten lips, as he tries to close his legs together on instinct, all the while San continues to selfishly hold him open for his own inspection.
He can feel his hole convulsing around the lollipop, clenching rhythmically, pleading for more of that cloying friction, and with the way he opens his eyes to see San staring up at him all starry-eyed while they both listen to the euphony of moist squelching from how he mushily fucks himself open on a fucking lollipop has him toeing the line of release.
Maybe San can pick up on his physical tells, migrating his hand from Wooyoung's waist to clasp it over the hand with which Wooyoung grips the end of the stick, to steadily guide the hard candy out of his pussy. Twin moans fill the shared air between them, highlighted by an ungodly dewy pop! of the lollipop parting with Wooyoung's clenched hole. He whimpers, as he feels the almost excessive wetness ooze out of his slightly dilated hole that keeps gripping down onto nothing like he's mourning the loss of being filled with at least something, no matter how small. He's blushing and embarrassed at how San can see just how much he'd enjoyed the feeling of it brushing along his inner walls—maybe enjoyed it a little too much based on how San's smug little smile shows off his dimples.
"Wooyoung-ah, shit—look who's enjoying it now," San slurs like he's already pussy drunk, "baby, you're so, so good, look at how much your cute little pussy enjoyed that treat, ate it up so well." San lifts their intertwined hands up to near eye-level, the both of them taking a moment to admire how much smaller the candy has become after it was nursed and sucked at by Wooyoung's insatiable hole. It's depraved, the way its visibly much smaller than it was before. The way its completely fucking coated, pink and creamy with the mix of Wooyoung's essence and the slightly viscous surface from being cradled in the warmth of his cunt.
Seemingly unable to resist, San ushers both of their hands up to his own face, lolling out his tongue to lick Wooyoung's fingers clean to sample the taste. Hungry, and without uttering another word, he hungrily engulfs the lollipop, swirling it around his mouth to savour it. Wooyoung watches, face burning as San groans, eyes squeezing shut, clutching at Wooyoung's hand so hard their skin turns white from where San's fingers meet his in a harsh embrace.
"Mm, Young-ah… it's still warm from being inside you," San cries around the lollipop.
"Yeah?" Wooyoung replies, a bit meek. He manages to squeak out, "How does it taste Sannie?" A little flustered from how San's fingers, that had held his pussy held open, now gently caress his folds, spreading the gummy wetness all around like he's trying to prep his next meal.
" Tastes so fucking good," San continues, almost sobbing. His words do nothing to calm the steady throbbing heat in Wooyoung's core, and he feels that in his twenty-something years of being alive, never in his life has he felt emptier. "But I… I wanna taste you. Please, can I Wooyoung-ah?"
His pretty words fracture Wooyoung's desire to keep up this game of denial. So, he leans back, spreading his legs further apart before slotting his fingers right there next to San's—this time holding himself open in hopes of enticing San to finally just take what he's been fiending for.
"Have at it—"
Wooyoung's view suddenly shifts from where he was looking down at San, giggles bubbling out of his throat at San's eagerness as he now gazes up at the ceiling, bouncing slightly where his back meets the mattress. Something prods at his mouth, and there he sees San trying to feed the lollipop back to him. He takes it in, the candy now a quarter of its original size—eroded by the continuous back-and-forth between San's mouth and his pussy.
He feels his knees get pinned back to the bed, goosebumps raising along his exposed skin when a warm breath kisses where he's the most sensitive.
"Wait—San-ah, pass me a pillow. I wanna see."
San shoots up immediately, "Oh—yes. Wait, here."
Neck nestled, his view of San laying back down between his thighs is so much better. Wooyoung's smile hurts his cheeks when he see's the way dewy eyes look back to him for confirmation—which, is cute and all, but his patience is running thin. "If you don't do something in the next few seconds, I will leave you here to go finger myself in the shower Sannie," he sing-songs, sucking at the remainder of the lolly as he raises his eyebrows.
San immediately ducks down, suckling at his own fingers for any remnants of Wooyoung's scent, before resting two warm hands on Wooyoung's doughy thighs. Wooyoung nearly misses it, but he hears San whisper to himself, "Thank you for the food." He rolls his eyes, what a fucking loser—
A loud, wet kiss to his clit has him derailing from his train of thought. Muffled moans attempt their escape when San flattens his tongue, licking a wide stripe from his hole back up to his clit, and he's in love with the way San's strong hold keeps him pinned down all the while.
"Just so-o good Young-ah, thank you being so sweet to me, sweetening yourself up for me like this—fuck I am so, so lucky," San mouths against his cunt. Wooyoung feels him lap at his folds, running his tongue through his sticky hair then stamping reverent kisses all over.
Wooyoung starts a low whine, a little needy sound building at the top of his throat, greedy for more of the contact where he really needs it, but it seems San knows exactly what he wants. San's tongue travels back to his clit, lapping at it after giving it a harsh suck which makes Wooyoung twist in his hold, but he can't escape—subjected to San's loving as his grip on Wooyoung's thighs gets stronger with the way they press him into the mattress.
"Sannie."
"I know, baby. I know," San mumbles, mouth still tethered to his cunt. Wooyoung bucks hips closer to his mouth as San mercifully lets go of one thigh, but not before plunging one thick finger into Wooyoung's hole.
"Oh," Wooyoung moans, the relief making his head fuzzy, the buzzing behind his temples weighing down his tongue, body going lax at finally being filled again. San repetitively prods his finger deep—nudging along his walls then working his way back all the way out. He hears San groan avidly, watches with eyebrows pushed together as San hollows out his cheeks to clean off Wooyoung's syrupy arousal from his finger.
Returning his hand where it belongs on Wooyoung's thigh, San gets back to work, drinking Wooyoung up like he's parched. He licks along the inside of his folds, curls his tongue around his swollen clit, sloshes his tongue back and forth with a familiar consistency he probably knows by now is Wooyoung's favourite.
It's sloppy. Drenched from the combination of Wooyoung dripping wet and San salivating, drooling all over him like he's feral for it.
Wooyoung can feel the pressure progressively build between his hips. The telltale signs that he's getting closer: his stomach flipping, his heart thumping so hard he can feel it in the base of his throat, his face heating at the sensation growing stronger as he gets more and more sensitive to San's touch. He reaches down with both hands to interlock his fingers with San's hair for leverage—holding him all the more closer.
Then, San's tongue retreats from his clit and Wooyoung groans in pure frustration through gritted teeth, his toes curling inward and he can only direct his vexation by pulling at San's hair by his roots, nerves aching for more of the same touch.
San is quick though. He manoeuvres a soothing thumb over to where Wooyoung needs it to continue the back and forth motions, then sinks his tongue right into Wooyoung's sugar soaked hole.
"Yes! More, San-ah," Wooyoung moans while San twists and twirls his tongue in his hole, licking and sucking at it like he's single-mindlessly chasing all the crevices the lollipop had graced and sweetened up. His tongue is diligent, reaming into Wooyoung's sensitive spots to edge him closer toward the finish line. San's whining while he eats him out does nothing to help curb the sensation either—the vibrations against his pussy only guiding him there faster.
"Mm, I'm so—close. Sannie, keep going just like that," he mewls, arching his back, and the slight adjustment in position has San's tongue abusing the spongy spot his lollipop was reaching before, making him incapable of doing anything but tearfully keen a high-pitched, urgent little noise.
Warm waves radiate throughout Wooyoung's body from somewhere deep like he's dissolving from the inside out, and there's a swooping sensation in his abdomen before the knot there gets tighter, and he thinks he might be saying something, but all he can hear is ringing in his ears, he thinks he might be crying and then he feels one more long and firm swipe at his engorged clit, and San pushes his tongue onto that spot, but instead of pulling away he just keeps pushing, and pushing into it and Wooyoung feels his entire body spasm violently, his eyes flying shut.
He wants to tell San that it feels so good that it feels like he's fucking dying, but he's physically incapable of speech. His jaw clenches and he bites down on what's left of the lollipop, feeling it fragment into small pieces in his mouth that slowly melt on his taste buds from how feverish he feels. He can feel himself squeezing down on San's tongue, gripping so hard it probably makes the movement hell for him, but it definitely doesn't stop the feeling of his wetness dribbling down from his hole to his ass.
His high is sustained by San's gentle licking and petting, and his softness feels like a feathered cushion after falling from a ten-story building. He feels completely, utterly boneless.
The leftover stick from the sweet is plucked from his lips. "Youngie, how do you feel?" Wooyoung hears after the whirring in his ears subsides.
He manages to warble out, "Like fuckin' jelly—my boy did so good," as he affectionately strokes at San's tresses, all messed up and sticking in all kinds of directions from Wooyoung's unwavering brace at his scalp. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," guilt stabbing at him thinking about how harsh he was with San's hair.
San beams so brightly, messy face and all, at his words that he has to squint, and he knows if San had a tail it would be wagging at speeds imperceptible to mankind's eye.
"Don't worry, I only have this much hair so you can have something to grab onto," San replies, cheekily sticking the tip of his tongue out at Wooyoung.
His heart throbs at San's stupid quip, an endeared smile plumping up his cheeks.
"Ugh, whatever—your face is all wet too by the way. But how about you?" Wooyoung goes to ask, whilst making grabby hands at the air. He's effortlessly puppeteered into a seated position, cringing both at the coarse friction of the sheets against his sensitive clit and the way he leaks like a faucet, causing him to soak the cotton fabric beneath him.
And speaking of leaking like a faucet, the front of San's sweats are damp, a massive wet spot right where he's still hard in his trousers.
"Oh Sannie, let's take care of you," pointing a shameless finger toward San's hard-on.
Upon highlighting his appetite, San flushes red all over again—watches the colour crawl from his chest and bloom outward to blush his shoulders, up to stain his face.
"Ah, you—ahem—you don't have to worry about me," he smiles abashedly while rubbing at his face with the back of his hand. His hesitance makes Wooyoung scrunch his face in curiosity. Makes him want to press him harder.
He jabs a thumb into the crevice of San's stupidly cute dimples. "What do you mean eh-erm d-don't w-worry about me?" he nags while mimicking Deku mockingly, "you're clearly still hard."
"Okay firstly, I did not sound like that. Also, never do a Deku impression while you're half-naked and my dick is hard ever again. Please. And yeah, but. You're probably tired right? I can, um. Clean us up—"
"Bro you're not serious," he cuts him off, leaning over to place his hands on the waistband of San's sweatpants, raising an eyebrow at the buff red blob in question—let me?
To which San, of course, concedes. Bobbing his head while he lifts himself up a little so Wooyoung can unshackle his untouched dick from where it's jailed beneath his pants and boxers, and oh never mind, San isn't wearing boxers, and oh, now he knows why San was so shy before.
San's cock bounces out of his pants, as Wooyoung drags them down, smacking against his soft, covered tummy, wetting his tank top in the process. His dick definitely hasn't lost it's appetite, blushing pink from where Wooyoung can see through how he's absolutely bathed in the pearly white of his own cum, twitching pathetically where he now continues to leak against his light grey tank.
He's wet, like, everywhere—all long the nice curve of his dick, dripping and painting white down mouthwatering veins to his balls, and its streaked in splotches all over his pelvis.
Wooyoung gapes and touches his fingertips to the corner of his own mouth to check if he's drooling. Then he covers up his tracks, chuckling incredulously, as he dons a cocky smile.
"Did you fucking finish just by eating me out?" he laughs wide-eyed. At least having the decency to bring a demure hand to hover over half his face.
"Dude! You can't blame me. It was fucking hot—you are fucking hot—and it was awesome okay? And you tasted really, really good I couldn't help myself," he says, while dazzling Wooyoung with his droopy kitty eyes, and Wooyoung really can't help himself either. He swipes at San's pec, a muted smack! from the sound being absorbed by his shirt and he lets himself cop a feel—squeezing to remind himself of the muscle's give, because he can and he will—before letting his hand fall.
God he is so endeared by this man. "You're so…" he tails off, watching as San kicks off his sweats, throwing them to the ground.
San pouts, lips puckering as he winks and brings one curved hand to his cheek to imitate half of a heart. "So what? Handsome? Funny? Amazing? With my tongue, especially?"
Wooyoung fronts another attack on San's chest, his hand itching to give them another squeeze, "Yah! Don't get ahead of yourself! You still haven't even come properly. I was going to help you, but if you're going to be like that—"
"Wait, no-o-o. Please have mercy milord." San closes his eyes and sniffles theatrically, clapping his hands together in front of his face like he's praying.
He opens one eye. "But you did come like, really hard though, so I don't want you to push yourself or anything—"
"Agh, stop that," Wooyoung rolls his eyes, getting exasperated. "If you think I'm so fucking tired or whatever… then you do all the work then, okay Sannie-ya?"
He nods so hard that Wooyoung thinks he might get second-hand whiplash just by looking at him.
"Okay!" San smiles, wrapping both arms around Wooyoung's waist to pull him into a tight hug. "I'll do whatever you want Youngie," he murmurs, nuzzling their cheeks together.
And how could he not melt at his affection?
His blood has probably rushed all to his face—he can feel the warmth pulsing on his ears and cheeks, and all he can do is press a hand to San's shoulder and nudge him away before something else entirely slips into his bloodstream from his beating heart and is sighed tenderly into San's equally pinked ears.
"I'll at least make it easier for you then," he says lowly, shuffling so his back is to San, then deliberately sliding down the mattress languidly like a cat stretching into a spine-bending sprawl. Chest down and ass up like this, he knows he's a vision—his oversized shirt sliding down his torso and pooling around his rib cage, pussy on full display, his hole peaking enticingly through smoothened hair, all opened, relaxed and ready to take San inside.
He feels two hands come up to rub at his hip dips, petting all over the rounded plump curve of his cheeks, before drifting down to knead at his plush thighs.
"Mm, Wooyoungie… you're perfect," fingers prodding and prying at his pussy, heightening Wooyoung's thinning impatience.
"Then do something already," he whines as he progressively feels needier the longer San leaves him empty.
Then finally, he feels something thick push between his slippery folds. Wooyoung wriggles his hips, as San slickens his already wet cock using Wooyoung's juices, rocking himself back and forth while he pinches Wooyoung together to use him like his personal sleeve. His tip glides over Wooyoung's stretched slit, teasing himself in just a bit, causing the both of them to gasp at the sensation.
And it seems like Wooyoung isn't the only one who loves seeing the other reduced to an impatient, whiny mess, because San keeps teasing in just the tip of his cock—groaning at the wet schlick! Wooyoung's pussy makes when he eases himself out of his clenching hole.
"Ah—San-ah, in," he croaks out, dragging the last consonant. "Fuck, put it in!"
"Mmm," San whines pitchily through compressed lips. "Just. Shit—wait, 'less you want this to end rea-a-al quick Youngie."
Massaging Wooyoung's hips with pacifying motions, San at long last begins to slowly feed his length into Wooyoung's hole. The stalling mixed with all of San's teasing has that familiar heat beginning to build back up in his pelvis—makes the ease in all the more torturously delightful.
Inch by inch, each centimetre San gives him makes him feel like he's choking on it, this sensation in parallel to the warm fulfilment of San finally coming home to where he's been needing him the most. San squeezes it in so fucking deep, that Wooyoung has to remind himself to keep breathing. He pushes in further whilst dragging Wooyoung back by his hips until there's nothing left to take, and he can feel San's heavy balls soppily nudge up against his folds, pushing in until he can feel his folds feather around the curve of them.
"Hah, fuck, Young-ah… you f-feel fucking amazing, all warm and-ah—so wet and tight around me," San pants.
Wooyoung can do nothing, but keep breathing in, and out. Too overwhelmed and borderline delirious on the fullness inside of him, and it's involuntary the way his cunt keeps rhythmically gripping onto San's twitching cock.
"Mmmff, Youngie," San whimpers, "I-I'm gonna come soon."
"It's fine, just… start moving," he manages to reply, turning his head to the side, so he can see how flushed San still looks when he's buried deep inside—holding onto Wooyoung's waist like its the only thing that's holding him together, and his glistening eyes never leave the pretty picture they make when they're intertwined like this, unless its to glimpse at how equally dishevelled Wooyoung looks with his long hair falling over his nape and face.
Forever obedient, San starts moving, filling him, making sure that all of him is inside before mournfully pulling back away from that snug heat. Staying quiet is nothing but a foreign concept, the both of them proudly making it known just how much they've needed it.
Their mutual sounds of pleasure are highlighted by lewd slaps of skin meeting skin, underscored by wet schlicks and pornographic squelches of their bodies mushing together for that split second each time San ruts his entire weight into Wooyoung's pussy, before the second's over, and the cycle repeats itself.
And forever insatiable, San's cock has Wooyoung wailing as he claws at the wrinkled sheets. "Fuck! Sa-ah-nnie, more. Harder," managing to bend himself into an even tighter arch that has San battering his dick against an even deeper spot than before.
"Yes! Right—there!" he cries, eyes stinging as salty sweat drips into his eyes from where it collects along his hairline.
The cloying friction has him fucking himself back onto San's length, has him clenching, and unclenching around the girth of it, and he can only continue to cry from how San's balls smack against his clit on each harsh thrust. That same tension keeps compounding, flourishing from where its concentrated in his womb, and he's out of focus from the pleasure that it feels like he'll float away and cease to exist.
It's like he's hot to the touch everywhere. Reduced to butchered staccatos of San's name and fringing on overstimulation from the stupefying pleasure caused by his heightened sensitivity—from the occasional press on his clit, to the friction of his pebbled nipples against the cotton shirt he stole from San, and the way San practically kisses his cervix with every wanton grind like he's trying his hardest to knock him up and oh, he's so fucking close.
San rutting doesn't stop, but Wooyoung can tell San's also nearing his end from the frequency of his whimpering, how his thrusts start to get sloppy, defying their previous rhythm, and the way he keeps babbling anything and everything above him. "Baby, I love your pussy so much, thank you for letting me inside, fuck I'm—hah."
Clammy hands envelop his waist hard, pressing into skin like they intend on leaving behind explicit evidence of their coupling. Like he's trying to stake his claim.
Then Wooyoung's world gets smaller and suddenly all he can feel is San's chest—damp from exhaustion—pressing against his back. He's completely surrounded, his senses screaming San, San, San. All he can hear is San's uneven breathing against his ear, all he can see when he turns his head is San's cute pout, and all he can smell is the lingering saccharine sweet of strawberry and cream on his breath that intermingles with the rich smell of sex. He's high on it, lightheaded and sweaty, and his body is sore and aching with the need to get off.
"San-ah, make me come, and hurry," he orders impatiently, pressing back onto San's cock greedily.
San groans at the demand, cock twitching as he holds onto Wooyoung by wrapping his arms around Wooyoung's lithe waist, and instead of resuming the previous pattern, he alternatively resorts to grinding his dick into Wooyoung's sensitive spot just like before—humping into him like a dog in rut.
"Mhm, Youngie, I can feel you hugging around me, please, please come on my cock, baby please, I need it, I need to feel you come on me," he pleads, as he tightens his arms like he needs to anchor himself against Wooyoung.
And it's the earnest begging that does it for him, as San mashes his cock against the place that sends him spasming violently—flailing in San's hold while his pussy flutters, squeezing and contracting around San's length with such zeal that it also has San keening high in his ear, as he comes with him, flooding his hole with thick spurts of white and filling his pussy up to the absolute brim.
Wooyoung moans with a heaving chest, as they ride their release together, far too tired to be concerned about the moist squelching which emanates from where San keeps fucking his pulsating cock back into his pussy like he's stirring their fluids together. However, the movement causes their combined juices to start leaking out and Wooyoung feels it dribble between his folds down to his clit.
Eventually after their breathing has evened out a little, San slowly pulls himself out of Wooyoung's ruined hole, and they both grunt at the way their releases come gushing out, hears the hefty splatter of it drip drop onto the already ruined sheets.
He flops onto his side wearily to alleviate the tension that has built up in his neck and joints from his spine-breaking position, clenching down unconsciously at the feeling of the viscous wetness that pours out of his pussy, but it's no use—his hole has been so thoroughly stretched out by San's cock that he can't even close it anymore.
"Woah…" San sighs, and when Wooyoung brings his tired gaze to his face, he sees San drooling over their mess that keeps trickling out of his cunt while he grabs at the base of his slowly softening cock.
Something about the way San's length is mouthwateringly glossy, completely coated in their mixed release, that has a compulsion brewing within the unused muscles of his jaw, makes his mouth itch to be filled too as if he has some kind of oral fixation. So, Wooyoung hums.
"Sannie-ya."
San's head snaps up to meet Wooyoung's eyes. "Yes, Youngie?" he asks while shuffling closer on his knees to Wooyoung nonetheless.
"I wanna taste you too," he mutters, batting his lashes at San through half-lidded eyes.
"But I don't think I could get it up anymore—"
"Doesn't matter, just wanna warm you in my mouth, can I Sannie?" he says—shooting him the most watery, pleading eyes he can muster.
"How could I ever say no to that?" San goes to reply, then he's being unceremoniously pushed onto the pillows that line the bed's headboard. He lets out a little, "Oof!" giggling from being manhandled by Wooyoung.
"Still not tired, Youngie?"
He doesn't even deign to respond to San's question, too busy shoving himself between muscled thighs, laying on his stomach so he can be face-to-face with it. Without wasting any more time, he grabs San's wet cock, holds it with one hand while the other fondles his balls—rolling them in his palm gently, as he brings his tongue to lap in between them and then all around to slurp up the pearly white mess that coats them.
The taste of them is inebriating—musky, salty with a slight tang, but there's also an underlying sweetness that rounds out the taste, as if he can still somehow taste the sugar sweet strawberries and cream from before and it's fucking addicting.
San whines, low and cute, softly entangling one hand into the hair at the back of Wooyoung's head, whilst he brings the other to rub at the tattoo at the base of Wooyoung's neck.
He craves more of that same heady flavour. So he presses a kiss to the base of San's cock, swirling his tongue there to lick up the creamy ring that had formed around it, humming in satisfaction when the same scent sinks into his taste buds. He continues his path upward toward the tip, tracing his tongue along a thick protruding vein, as he savours the way San's cock quivers at his touch, those muscular thighs convulsing.
He continues to lap at San's length, cleaning him up with a flattened tongue. When he's lapped up their fluids along his shaft, Wooyoung finally directs his focus onto his blushing tip, licking around the underside of the pink head before guiding it into his mouth and sucking.
San bucks, mewling and gripping at Wooyoung's hair without yanking, "F-fuck, I'm-m still sensitive."
And at San's words, Wooyoung takes him all the way, shoving as much of his cock into his mouth as he physically can, and San sighs, as Wooyoung blankets him in the delicious velvety heat of his mouth.
Wooyoung doesn't give him time to adjust though, immediately sucking and slobbering all over that it makes San cry and chant his name from the hypersensitivity. He can feel San's dick give feeble twitches, can feel him dripping inside his mouth, as he milks him for all he's worth—making sure he's completely and utterly empty.
And after swallowing everything San had left to give, Wooyoung feels him soften on his tongue, so he finally relents. He eases off, pressing one last kiss to the tip then promptly launches himself into San's chest.
He feels San bundle him up in his arms and he's way too fatigued to care about how disgusting they both are. "Now I'm the one who's all sticky and gross," he mutters.
"Wooyoungie," San starts, nuzzling his cheek into Wooyoung's temple, "that was fucking awesome. I don't know what I did or who I saved in my past life, but I've never been more grateful."
Wooyoung snorts. "And to think it all started because of some lollipops," he laughs. "You know I was just trying to get you to fuck me? I didn't know you were harbouring some perverted fantasy about lollipops—no, pussypops right? You fucking freak."
"You probably have more confessions to spit out, so speak now or forever hold your peace," he says as he tightens his arms around San's neck.
Heat radiates from where his forearms hang around San's nape, and San burns so hotly that it's concerning. The rising temperature has him sitting up straighter so that he can see properly gaze at his face.
"Sannie?" he lays the back of his palm to rosy cheeks, right over San's moles. "You okay?"
San's eyes glimmer—shiny and round, as he cowers into himself a little, "I did have something to tell you, and it's what I've been thinking about for the past week that I've been a bit distant."
Wooyoung nods, urging him to continue, now morbidly fascinated with what other filthy kinks he could have possibly been keeping to himself.
"Wooyoung-ah, let me take you out."
His heart begins to thud and he can feel the heartbeat pulse behind his ears. "What? We already go out to eat together, like, all of the time—"
"No. Young-ah. Like, on an actual date. A romantic date. So I can ask if you'd have me as your boyfriend. Ahem. Officially. You can of course say no! I don't know why I said it like you already like me back. But also if you don't, please have me. I promise I can sweep you off your feet—"
San is silenced with a long overdue kiss to his overactive mouth as Wooyoung smashes their lips together. Before San can speak again, Wooyoung scoffs.
"Oh my god. Shut up, you are such a loser. Yes, I will let you take me out and spoiler alert! When you ask me, I will accept you as my boyfriend. Is that clear enough?" San nods. "God I can't believe a stupid lollipop is what made us confess to each other. Choi San! This is so-o-o unromantic."
"Oh! The lollipop! Wooyoung did you see where you threw that stick?" San asks, starting to frantically look around the chaos that is their bed in disarray.
Wooyoung tilts his head. "Why? I'll find it and throw it away when we clean up."
"No! You cannot throw that out… I'm going to preserve it in loving memory."
Never in his life has Wooyoung ever been so wholeheartedly flabbergasted by what a man had to say, and if this was literally anyone else he would scramble out of their arms to pull on his clothes and fucking run for the hills, blocking them on everything including Spotify if he had to.
But this is San, his lovely, sweet, albeit weird, San. So he just sighs, getting up so they can both go clean themselves.
"If you still want to re-watch Haikyu!! then get your ass into the shower so we can come back and change the sheets," he laments.
However, it's all worth it once he sees San's dearest dimpled smile.
"Yay!" San cheers, bouncing off the bed to usher them into the bathroom.
Fucking dork (read: love of his life).