san wooyoung

04.10.17

they get more than a few days of accustoming themselves to this new real togetherness. of wooyoung tending to san, who keeps swearing he's okay.

and he is, the nurse says so, too, but wooyoung has to be sure. can't shake the reminiscence of his aunt's accident, the fact that this could have been a whole lot worse.

it's okay, it's good, and he keeps sleeping at san's apartment, practically living there now. san drives them both to school, in the sad shiny car insurance provided, when he's finally allowed to, helps him out as usual, but with a different air of tenderness now. an ulterior feeling of authenticity. because now they're allowed. in fact, it's expected of them. but he knows san's doing it because he wants to, due to nothing else.

wooyoung has tried not to think about the fact that if san is his soulmate, and has accepted him, he should be able to see by now. that is, if his parents' theory is correct. perhaps he has to wait until his birthday- the truth is, he has no idea.

in the end, it happens overnight. slowly, gradually, his vision returns to him. blurred light, first, still surrounded by corroded black edges, nothingness.

the absence of light begins to become coloured, familiar colours forming shapes, shades, objects. wooyoung isn't half sure he's not still dreaming, unable to believe his eyes. he blinks, then, repeatedly. 

opens and closes them, letting more and more light in. vision. he can see. the world is as he remembers, just so much more vibrant. shadows are darker, glowing bulbs iridescent. colours pop, variety of hues overwhelming.

he's not sure where to look first, where to place his eyes, just darts them around left and right. wooyoung moves slowly, as if the handicap is now physical. gradually, the way his eyes came back to him.

taking it all in, the mahogany wooden dresser, the royal blue curtains, dull cream sheets, wooyoung's never seen such beauty in the mundane. such marvelous reality in such simplicity. because this is san's room, and everything in it is familiar, nothing out of place, he knows it all by touch, could navigate it with his eyes closed.

and now he's getting up more quickly, more excitedly, quivering. the move to his feet is dizzying, his depth perception all sorts of jumbled, unused to the way the floor gets closer, the feet he sees that hit it. it makes him stumble, then laugh, act like a newborn deer learning to walk.

san's walls are cream, like his sheets, baring few imperfections. wooyoung's stick, lying discarded in the corner, is futile. the sight of it - the sight - has him grinning manically, the smile stretching across his whole face.

and san, san, is just there, shaving his face in the bathroom, his back to him.

the width of his broad shoulders dip into his magnificently small waist, familiar to wooyoung as the darkness he's accustomed to. even in a crowded room, even if there were a hundred people in here, wooyoung knows he'd be able to pick out san.

the sight of him, carefully bringing  the blue razor to his jaw, is reflected in the mirror, mouth angled down as he tries to shave the difficult bits. it has wooyoung laughing, which has san turning to him, white foam still adorning his face.

and there he is, in front of him, dark eyes as angularly slanted as wooyoung knows them to be, cheekbones jutting high and spectacularly defined as his jawline. the raven hair wooyoung has had his hands in so often is gloriously soft looking, sticking down the back of his neck, long lengths curling at his ears. the bathroom light casts a blueish shine on san, illuminating his surprised features animatedly.

"hi," wooyoung says breathlessly, holding his gaze.

"your eyes-" san starts, blanching as if he doesn't quite believe what it is he's seeing. his wrist jerks, grazing his jaw in a little cut.

dropping the razor, san breaks out in a smile that mirrors his own, rivals it, teeth pearly white and annoyingly perfect. it transforms his eyes to crescents, bright.

shaving cream still fresh on his face, san hurtles towards him, tackling him in a hug that knocks wooyoung to the ground. "oof-" he grunts, air momentarily knocked from his chest.

he doesn't even dare blink, doesn't take his eyes from san, too scared this is all a pipe dream. stretching out his arms, wooyoung holds san away from him, so he can look at him.

"i can see you," he marvels, the smile causing his jaw to ache.

san tries to lean in, to hug or to kiss him, but wooyoung holds him back firmly, just drinking in the sight of him. the look in san's eyes is fierce, burning a hole in wooyoung.

"i can see you," he repeats, bringing a hand to san's face, wiping some of that ridiculous foam from it.

his fingers touch san's skin gently, the pads trailing down to his neck. it's splashed with light freckles, constellations wooyoung traces, wants to connect with his mouth.

"you have freckles," he states dumbly, not sure why he's crying.

"yeah," san nods, wiping the tears away. wooyoung lets himself close his eyes, just briefly, leaning into that touch.

impatient to open them, to get drunk on this sight, wooyoung shuffles away, seeing more of san. takes his arm, surveys the tanned skin, the few freckles, turns it over so he can see the inscription.

traces his own name, jung wooyoung, disbelievingly.

it's different, to see it with his own eyes, stark and true. small letters, perfectly central. san shivers, his tongue darting out for a second. and wooyoung catches the silver glint of san's piercing, doesn't miss a single change in his countenance.

"fuck, you are hot," he says in a breathy laugh, surveying the bobbing of san's throat.

"jesus christ," san curses, running a hand through his hair, the black strands catching between his slender fingers.

it brings wooyoung's attention to the ink tattoo adorning san's right arm, curling up to his bicep. he likes it even more than he had imagined. and san- wooyoung can't even say he likes him more than he imagined, because san is familiar, nothing about him unlike what wooyoung expected, what he knows.

he's buzzing, on a never ending high. san senses it, too, not dissimilarly elated. gets his hands on wooyoung's face, cupping it, leaning in close.

it's hard to kiss him, with how widely san's smiling, but wooyoung does, kisses it right from his face. god, it's idiotic, but he doesn't even want to close his eyes now, wants to capture every second of this.

his mouth tastes freshly of mint, cold and clean. but his lips are warm, soft, rosy. it's muscle memory, a dance that wooyoung knows all the steps to. kissing san is familiar, thrilling, captivating. he's on a rollercoaster that never ends, his stomach swooping with each leisurely movement of san's mouth, flames lapping up his spine whenever he feels those fingers dig into his skin through the thin material of his shirt.

wooyoung gasps when those teeth drag against his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open for san to tease wooyoung's tongue with his own. he kisses him like that, hot and slow for a while, before switching to shorter bursts, mumbling words in between. each kiss translates the sentences, drawing them out until he's saying them right into wooyoung's mouth.

"i love you," he says, again and again, before and after each press of their lips, until wooyoung's breathless, giggling.

"wanna see you again," he gets out, turning his head so san's kiss meets his cheek.

"look," he tells him, mouthing against his jaw. "look until you're sick of it."

and he wants to, he does, but can't help the fluttering of his eyes, the tipping of his head, when san's latching onto his neck like that.

"then let me," he manages, pushing san gently away, holding him at arms length.

obediently, san sits back, ornamentally still. his lips are kissed red, sheen. the shaving cream is all but gone, the little razor cut more obvious on his skin. wooyoung thumbs over it gently, causing a subtle wince. brings his hand to san's hair, twirling some strands idly around a finger. watches it fall back down when he draws his hand away.

"you're kind of beautiful, actually." he states, stomach backflipping when san smirks, his mouth pulling sideways cockily.

so much for looking, because wooyoung would much rather kiss that smirk off his face, would rather kiss him stupid.

leaning onto his knees, wooyoung takes san's left arm, extending it toward himself. san just watches, and wooyoung feels brilliantly hot all over, inflamed beneath that searing gaze.

he holds san's eyes as he lowers his head, kissing the name branded onto his forearm. san shivers viscerally, producing a choked moan when wooyoung opens his mouth, tracing it with his tongue.

"wooyoung-" he warns, high and wrecked. the sensitivity rumors prove true, and wooyoung revels in it. "god, that feels-"

he kisses up his arm, up to his shoulder, climbing right into his lap. gets his mouth on the junction to his neck, tongue slipping when san's hands drag on his waist, gripping his hips.

"fuck, you're eager." he comments, tipping his head back.

"i've never felt more alive," wooyoung murmurs, breath hot on san's skin.

"you mean horny- ah-" san corrects, breaking off as wooyoung sucks on his neck, pressing his tongue down.

"mhm," he hums in agreement, obsessing over the dark red blooming there, decorating san's neck among the starry freckles. azure flecks blossom among the red, shining with wooyoung's spit as he trails down his throat.

"want this off." he demands, pulling at san's shirt, helping him tug it over his head. wooyoung flattens a hand on his chest, fingers pressing over his sternum.

his body is athletically defined, but not too bulky. he has muscles, yes, but they're not overwhelmingly large. all things wooyoung knows, but now can see for himself. even shadowed by wooyoung's form against it, san's body is a spectacle.

"like what you see, princess?" san goads, leaning back a little, hands still firmly holding him in his lap.

he blushes at that, other hand wondering down san's side, squeezing at his waist. "yeah, yeah," he nods, kissing the column of his throat, moving his hand to san's abdomen.

"wait 'til you see yourself." san says breathily, and wooyoung  stops for a moment, confused.

"wha-" he starts, but san's picking him up, straining with the effort.

wooyoung locks his legs more tightly around his waist, clinging to him until san throws him down, on his knees in front of his full length mirror.

oh.

realizing what san intends, wooyoung blushes harder, heat spreading all up his neck. his reflection is startling, yet not entirely unfamiliar. he's certainly grown into his features, since fourteen, lost that clingy baby chubbiness he used to be so insecure of. the plump curve of his lips is pleasantly attractive, dark rosy red.

someone should have told him how bad his roots are getting, the sandy blonde hair starkly black at the roots.  it's not a terrible look, just not the one wooyoung's going for.

wooyoung's face is flushed, hair messed up, already looking so debauched despite the fact that all they've done is kiss. his eyes are brown instead of blue, wide and glassy. they widen, rolling back a little as san takes him by the darker bits of his hair, forcing his head up.

"look at yourself, princess." san breathes, mouthing round the side of his neck. "so pretty."

"yeah?" he asks, preening at the praise. he does look good like this, at san's mercy, whatever kind of fucked up narcissism that is.

"very," he confirms. "now, hands on the mirror." san murmurs against his ear.

and because wooyoung's still looking at his reflection, just how san wants, he can see the way he subconsciously responds to the words, the way his eyes glaze over slightly, his lips parting. he obeys, lifting his arms to rest his hands on the mirror above his head.

san lifts his shirt up, takes it all the way off, hands so hot on his skin. wooyoung's head falls against the cool surface of the mirror, resting there as san mouthes over the top of his spine.

his hands still at wooyoung's hips, wavering. san grips him, then, kissing between his shoulder blades. it's good, but he's impatient, and this position isn't giving him the access he wants san to have.

"can we-" he asks, fumbling with his words as san licks a stripe up his back. "can you- fuck-

"what?" san presses unhurriedly, sucking a mark on the side of his neck.

wooyoung quivers, every nerve inside of him alight. he turns his head a little, so he can see the hickey blossoming on his skin. god, he's glad they're allowed to leave marks, now, because there's nothing quite like this feeling. this inexplicable rush he's getting from being claimed, in some sense.

"you know-" wooyoung's frustrated, uncomfortably hard in his sweatpants.

"i don't. tell me." fuck him, smug cocky bastard he is.

"want you to fuck me, please?" he caves, shutting his eyes.

san kisses his shoulder, too sweetly, too chastely, for the circumstances. it has wooyoung's heart lurching, twisting.

"i love it when you ask so nicely." san smirks, another kiss lingering on his neck. "of course. gladly."

wooyoung sags in relief, brandishing a fresh smile. but it's short-lived, because san is not about to make this so easy for him.

"can you take me against the mirror?"

-

yeah so um basically so um

freelance smut bc majority of problems are solved 🥺🥺🥺🥺guys i'm just here to write silly little smut scenes

BUT this is one of my fav chaps so far idk i've been waiting for wy to see for so long

xxx